#☆ ▏✦ This is my SIN for giving in to my own WEAKNESS ✧「 character tag 」

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[vampiredaisiesss]

vice | homelander x reader

noun

a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit.

tw: gaslighting, homelander giving oral, p in v sex, homelander is a manipulative bitch, dubious consent.

"I let my anger get best of me, okay?" he says softly, still supporting that puppy dog look in his eyes. "I shouldn't have lasered that poor guy."

But you've known him for so long, You can see past his bullshit anytime. That's why you cross your arms over your chest and keep yourself mum. You were not going to give in to him today.

He takes a calculated step forward. Gloved hands reach for the hem of your dress, playing with it like a child played with the edge of its mother's dress. But there's nothing pure about it.

Every touch of his drips with sin. A venom that must have infiltrated your heart for you continue to love him despite all he is.

Suddenly, he's on his knees in front of you. The caped crusader makes sure your eyes stay locked to his ocean ones throughout. His hands continue bunching up the edge of your dress. You let out a exasperated sigh, your own reaching out to get his off.

"John, stop," It's too late. His lips press to the inside of your thigh, right above your knee where he knows you are sensitive. "What are y-"

He sinks his teeth in the supple flesh, letting a moan drag out of your throat. Then lays his tongue flat against the bite mark, enclosing it using his lips. He starts to suction around it, only leaving your skin to continue his ministrations upwards.

He's so close to where you always need him the most. So close it makes something inside your belly liquify into a warm, wet puddle.

"John, please..." you sound uncertain. are you begging him to continue or begging him to stop? even though you intended for the latter, your voice comes out as a manifestation of the former. "Please, stop."

You grab a handful of his hair as he nears your core, paying your words no heed. He looks up, piercing blue eyes boring into yours, and licks a long strip up your slit.

A groan escapes his mouth, his hold on your thighs prying them further apart. You have to lean back on the wall to keep your upper half upright as he lifts both your legs on either side of his shoulders.

At your refusal towards a response, something in his gaze turns. Desperation becomes laced with arrogance and the fine line between the two starts to shrivel.

His red gloved fingers start painting your skin possessively red.

"You have America's greatest superhero on his knees for you, ravishing your sweet cunt night after night," he growled, lips attaching to your clit in circles. "And you continue being a bitch about some godforsaken piece of shit that probably would've taken advantage of you, if I hadn't intervened."

Your mouth is opened in permanent gasp. No noise comes out of it. He has successfully shut you up, and he knows it by how well your body is reacting you him.

Your hands pull at his hair with every brush of his tongue, thighs clenching around his head in a vice like grip.

"What more do you want, huh, before you stop being an ungrateful little brat?" his voice comes muffled from your thighs.

He has this ability of unhinging his jaw like a snake, devouring you whole. He torments your clit with fast, but light strokes, dragging it down to thrust it inside of you. When his lips aren't attached to your bud, his nose fills the role, and you buck your hips desperately to feel yourself rub deliciously against the length of it.

White hot lava is flooding through your veins. You feel it consuming you alive.

His fingers replace his tongue inside of you. He has a habit of keeping his gloves on when he has a point to prove. And they help him prove it. The rubber makes his already thick fingers thicker. It gifts his already impressive skills friction. Pleasure collides with pain in your belly, pulling you over the edge, into a harsh undercurrent.

And it gives him power over you. The only power he has always had.

America's greatest superhero fucks you like it can save him from drowning. He keeps your whole weight effortlessly pinned to the wall, hips meeting yours at a bruising pace. His hair is a mess, his face covered in you. When he shoves his tongue into your mouth, he wants you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He's the perfect specimen, right down to what's between his legs. He's thick and long with a curved tip that hits all your sweet spots. When he's inside you, it's like a drug. He washes over you with a certainty that dulls everything else.

He moulds you to his will.

"John, I'm sorry," You breathe out in the crook of his neck, hands gripping his shoulder like you'd fall without him. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay," he coos at you, holding you tighter against his body. His left hand cradles your head while he pounds you harder into the wall.

You can feel the cracks forming on the wall where his hand is placed at your side. His thrusts are becoming more frantic. "You fe..feel so, so good, baby," he whisper against your ear. "Made just for me."

Within seconds, he's finishing inside you with a loud growl. His hips tremor slightly as his head tips back, teeth gritted in pleasure. After he catches himself, he tends to you, letting any regret in your mind dissolve into self-doubt over the course of a long, languid kiss.

[lost-romantique]

I love how much Sam Haft is talking about Mastermind...

I definitely did notice how Mastermind and Apology Tour are so opposite of each other in messages.

Apology Tour left Blitz more humbled as he realizes the gravity of his sins, and as he (in his eyes) loses Stolas completely.

But Ghostfuckers is supposed to be the turning point for Blitzø’s character as he is pushed to the brink of insanity, and has to be saved by Millie in order to get out of the experience alive.

Blitzø learns from Millie in Ghostfuckers that it's okay to be weak and vulnerable, and thst he isn't just some monster that destroys peoples lives.

I just find it so fascinating how Blitzø in his journey of self-actualization, gets rewarded for his self-sacrifice by getting the love and appreciation of his found family and by his peers.

For people that don't know, self-actualization is a concept based off Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.

For the longest time, Blitzø was moreso busy focusing on his safety and physiological needs versus actually fixing himself; and I feel like a part of that is due to his years alone he spent after the fire. Blitz was forced into a mindset of "survival" and he never really left that mindset, even after creating I.M.P. As a result, of ignoring his trauma for so long, it ended up giving him a very fucked up way of thinking that severely impacted his relationships in the long run.

I specifically love the fact that Sam Haft mentions that Mastermind is supposed to be a humbling episode for Stolas as he's actually made aware of how much privilege he possesses.

It really makes me look forward to Stolas' future character development as he "touches grass".

Also, low-key don't understand why some people were surprised Stolas would actually go to great lengths to save Blitz...

Of course he would, Stolas has always put others needs before his own, it's a part of his character.

Legit, a huge part of Stolas' character development as a whole is him standing up for himself, and putting his wants and needs first before his own.

It's one of the things he learns from Blitz that he states time and time again, "he taught me I could choose" to "I am the mastermind, the master of my fate".

I think the sad part is that the fate he chose and honestly yearned for was the sweet release of death...

Christ on a stick, Stolas babe, please gain a support network. Honey, you fucking need it. Desperately.

Go be best friends with Moxxie and watch Cats together or something, please. That way Blitz and Millie could go hang out and commit arson or something.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . INTERRUPTED ; — you find your alone time with multiple tokyo revengers characters being interrupted.

FEATURING: sano shinichiro, hanma shuji, haitani rindou, sano manjiro + sanzu haruchiyo.

warnings: f!reader, exhibitonism, bonten!timeline, shin owns his bike shop, phone calls / being walked in on, cock-warming, sort of possessive behaviour in sanzu’s, ch-oking. note: hewo :3 i am v happy w how these turned out i think so i hope u guys enjoy hehehe <3

✩ ˛˚ . SANO SHINICHIRO

shinichiro could never fucking say no to you, you just had to give him one of your pretty little looks from underneath your lashes and he was like fucking putty in your hands.

it’s like you knew exactly how to get to him, made just to tease and test his own self control and fuck—turns out he hasn’t got any at all, because now your usual little afternoon visit to see him at work has ended up with his hips pressing flush and tight against your own as he sinks his cock into the warm hug of your pussy.

it wasn’t normally something that bothered shinichiro, but when it’s only 2pm on a friday afternoon and he’s just heard the bell on the front door of his bike shop ring to alert him of another customer. he’s pretty sure they might find a problem with the fact he can’t deal with them because he’s balls deep in you in the back shop.

you feel the deep press of your boyfriends cock against the sweet spots inside of you when his next thrust stutters, followed by another languid withdrawal of his hips before he’s rolling them back into you at an even slower pace. but he swears he feels you squeeze even tighter when the sudden ring of the bell at the front desk rips you both from your blissful, hormone-drunken state.

“just a sec..” shinichiro calls as his fingers squeeze almost painfully at your hips and he’s pulling back to give you a lidded look from under the messy mop of black hair framing his flushed features. you shudder when you feel the cool metal of his chain leave your too hot skin but he still doesn’t pull himself away when your hands tighten in the fabric of his shirt. “f-fuck, angel, gotta let me go.. quit squeezin’ so tight.

“but shin, ‘m so close.” you babble through your pouty lips and even the fucking sound only seems to lure him closer as he offers you another stuttered thrust and he grits his teeth. another ring of the bell accompanied by another sinful squeeze of your walls around him and shit— he wished he’d just closed up for the day. god he is fucking whipped.

“mmm—fine, angel. shit— jus’ gotta make it quick, alright? make it up to ya later.”

✩ ˛˚ . HANMA SHUJI

your trip to hanma’s office had started somewhat innocent, it was always down to him when you ended up spread out on his desk atleast — not that you can be blamed when he’s so infuriatingly handsome, amber lidded gaze never once leaving yours as soon as you enter.

it’s the same look that he’s giving you now as you sit spread out for him across the paper work that he couldn’t give two shits about right now. he’s still dressed apart from his unbuttoned slacks — just enough to free the heavy strain of his cock but still a stark contrast to the way he’s stripped you of everything — offered you up to himself like a luxury meal he’s about to devour, and you almost shudder with how exposed you feel before you melt at his touch again.

“you miss my cock that much, babydoll?” hanma goads, smirks as one of his large palms, sin squeezes at the flesh of your thigh so he can push you wider. you can barely offer him words with the way your desire weighs heavy on your lungs, a weak little nod that only makes his grin twitch even wider as he wraps your thighs around his hips.

“such a helpless little thing, can’t cum without me doing all the work.” it was almost uncharacteristic for him to give into you so easily, he liked you begging — crying for him to finally fuck you but any suspicions soon melt when the fat head of his cock finds the entrance to your flexing pussy.

you gasp and hanma growls as he sinks carefully up inside you, punishment taking its usual place around your throat as he squeezes lightly at the sides — he always said it was your prettiest fuckin’ necklace afterall. his other hand on your hip pulls your hips closer to his as your back arches and his cock feels like it sinks into you forever. he was long and thick, curved upwards and warm and it glides so sweetly past the spots inside of you that make your whole body twitch against the wood, your pussy tightening harder around him the deeper he goes.

but just as you find yourself floating into a blissful state, almost consumed completely by him — you jolt when there’s a sudden, sharp knock on his office door and his fingers around your throat squeeze a little tighter before he chuckles.

your wide-eyed as you look at hanma but he doesn’t stop, he looks amused and there’s something dark, wild in the same familiar amber that looks over you when the next knock is accompanied by him forcing your walls to spread open wider for him. “s-shuji.” you try, a small plea for him to tell him he’s busy — to do something, anything.

but then you only feel him press into you deeper, looking at you from over the frames of his glasses before he’s urging your head to tilt back — palm pressing tight against the middle of your throat as he drags you along his cock with the other.

“came here to cum didn’t you? better tell ‘em.. or. else.”

✩ ˛˚ . HAITANI RINDOU

rindou is fucking late, he knows as he gives the watch underneath the expensive fabric of his suit a lazy, lidded look from underneath his lashes. it’s not that he was stuck in traffic or anything, hes at the venue for the executive meeting atleast — hes just far too fucking obsessed with the way you’re bouncing on his cock as he sits in the front seat of his fucking car to actually leave.

ran’s definitely going to kick his ass, he thinks before it’s replaced by the next particularly sharp connection of your hips — warm hug of your pussy reducing him to low grunts and growls as every thought in his head is consumed by only you instead.

“fuck sake, i gotta go princess. but shit, got the sweetest lil fuckin’ pussy.” rindou hisses through gritted teeth as he lets his head fall back against the headrest — his violet gaze heavy underneath his mused bangs as it focuses on the way your pretty tits jiggle everytime you sink back down onto his heavy cock. he’s gotta go, but why can’t he bring himself to fucking move.

“so close rin!” you whimper through pouty lips, your mind cloudy with how well hes fucking you and it does wonders at drowning out the way his phone is vibrating in the passenger seat — his hands preoccupied with dragging you along the length of him instead.

“yeah? lemme see how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum ‘round my cock, gorgeous.” the ragged tone of rindou’s words feels like it drips through you as the muscles in his well trained body shake beneath you. his pace is unrelenting as he begins to meet each of your thrusts with heavier ones of his own, fingers squeezing tight into your hips so he can push his cock even deeper into you with every wet connection.

“you been thinkin’ ‘bout my cock, princess? already made me fuckin’ late, gotta make it up to me.” rindou groans and your walls reward the thick spread of his cock with another needy twitch. your pussy squelches, wet and messy as the sounds echo around the walls of the car and fuck— he wants to ruin you. but his next harsh thrust stutters when there’s a sudden knock against the drivers seat window that makes his head twist quickly, because despite the dark tint and the condensation from you both — he knows who it fucking is.

“oh little brother? hm, don’t make me drag you in here.”

✩ ˛˚ . SANO MANJIRO

you think it’s warm, comfortable when you’re curled up in mikey’s lap — a place that had become one of your favourite despite how many people feared him. but he was different with you, softer as his slender fingers trace up the length of your spine — making you shudder as his cock rests inside the intoxicating hug of your walls.

it was a nice sort of routine, like a little ritual than always seemed to keep him grounded and it was some of his favourite moments with you — sacred moments with you. you pull back to give him a pretty, drowsy sort of look and you almost melt completely when it earns you a relaxed sort of expression in return followed by a small smile. “manjiro.” you begin and he swears the use of his full name from between your lips makes him shudder as something warm licks at the base of his spine.

“hm?” it’s low the hum that mikey offers you but you only sigh contently before you’re urging yourself closer, letting yourself bask in his hold as his arm around you proceeds to tighten as his lips rest against your temple. “it feels good, you’re warm.” he drawls and the whispered affirmation makes your insides ache before the next squeeze of your walls is pulling a shuddered breath from the man beneath you.

but just as you get comfortable in the blissful atmosphere in the room, it’s interrupted suddenly by the harsh wrap of knuckles against his office door before a particularly scared looking gang member scurries in after. he opens his mouth to speak but the cold look your boyfriend gives him seems to make the words die in his throat before he cuts him off completely.

“i’m busy.” mikey’s tone is blunt, ragged and a stark contrast to the softer one that he seems to reserve only for you as his fingers continue their ministrations along your skin. but you find yourself tensing when his words aren’t followed by the sudden unwanted company leaving, something that your boyfriend picks up on when instead they proceed to try again as they stutter out something unintelligible.

“didn’t you hear me?” there’s authority in the sharpness of his tone this time and it leaves no room for argument — only an apology as the gang member bows before leaving, probably mentally preparing himself for the visit he’ll be receiving from sanzu later no doubt. but you find yourself relaxing into manjiro’s embrace again as soon as you’re both alone again, hearing him sigh before it’s followed by a sudden, deep kiss of his cock as he shifts beneath you.

“so annoying. i’m comfy.”

✩ ˛˚ . SANZU HARUCHIYO

“haru..” you gasp from where sanzu has you hips pressed tight against his desk — swiping his fingers softly through your folds as he drags the pad beneath the hood of your clit, rolling the sensitive bud until he can see the way your thighs twitch. it was insane, the way he’s toying with you — playing with your pretty cunt like you’ve got him fucking hypnotised.

“i know, angel. just real pretty.” he hums before he’s deliberately pressing down onto your puffy clit harder, eagerly, until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside. he rewards you with a sweet little kiss against the puffy bud when he’s not met with much resistance, grinning at the even sweeter little whine it pulls from your pouty lips.

“such pretty sounds, perfect fucking pussy.” sanzu’s fingers are long, long and thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but you feel something blissful flutter in your tummy with the soft affirmation from his scarred lips. it was intoxicating to see a man so dangerous turn to fucking putty when he was between your legs and gazing up at you from under long lashes.

his warm breath rolls over your slick folds as he pants, his crystalline eyes transfixed and shining on where his digits sink into you, until his head lowers and his tongue is curling against your clit before he’s dragging it back up — complimenting every twist of his wrist with kitten licks like you’re the sweetest thing hes ever fucking tasted. it was rare for you both to get some alone time, he was a busy man afterall being bonten’s number two and you forget just how fucking good he makes you feel — making your toes curl from where they rest over his shoulders so easily.

but just as you let yourself melt back onto the heavy wood behind you, fingers smoothing through the bubblegum roots of sanzu’s hair before you pull — you’re jolted from your blissful state by the sharp ring of his phone in his pants. you hear him click his tongue before he’s spitting out a curse, but he continues to sink his fingers into you as he struggles with the device, swiping at the screen as he swirls tantalising circles into your clit with his thumb.

“what the fuck is it?” he spits and fuck— you swear the sudden boom of his voice makes you even wetter as your walls squeeze tight around his fingers, making his scarred lips twitch into a wild grin as he hums. you can tell he’s barely listening to the caller, not important enough for his attention so you know it’s not mikey, but his attention remains on you despite the way he addresses them. “fuckin’ do something about it then, im busy.”

you’re so fucking wound up, moans muffled behind your lips despite the way sanzu’s so desperately trying to drag them out of you before he’s resting the phone face up on the desk beside you. you’d assume he was done, but you can still hear the faint voice on the other end and the hooded look he gives you is dark before he’s suddenly burying his face into you, drinking up everything you offer to him despite the way his sharp gaze cuts up into you as he grumbles out a warning.

“keep that pretty mouth quiet, angel. those sounds are for my ears only, wouldnt want to have to kill that sorry bastard for hearing what’s mine.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. do not copy any of my layouts / writing + translate / repost onto any other sites.

[anneapocalypse]

On Wuk Lamat, and Female Characters in FFXIV

The Thing with Wuk Lamat is you can tell me you think she had too much screentime; you can give me numbers on how many lines she had or how many scenes she's in relative to other characters or other expacs; you can prove to me "objectively" that she gets more focus than other main NPCs; you're simply not going to convince me that this is something I should be unhappy about. And not just because it's silly to think you can use numbers to prove a story is good or bad and make someone else go, "Wow, you're right, let me just throw away all the joy I experienced with this story and revise my opinion because you've scientifically proven to me that I'm wrong."

Because while I love Final Fantasy XIV and I have greatly enjoyed its story in so many ways, fundamentally one of my biggest beefs with this game has been how much female characters have been denied complex character arcs and growth and agency and interiority.

Minfilia gets treated as a sacrificial vessel who lives for everyone but herself and doesn't even get to have feelings about her own death because that entire arc is focused on a male character's angst about it instead. The game tells us in the Heavensward patches that Krile sees Minfilia as her best friend and then just forgets about that later and never follows up on what that loss must have meant to her. Ysayle is basically right about most of what she's fighting for but harboring a bit of self-delusion is apparently such a terrible sin that she has to pay for it with her life, while her male foil is deemed so worthy of salvation that there's a whole plot point about how important it is that we risk our lives and others' lives to save him. Y'shtola is a major character who's been around since the beginning, and the game keeps dropping maddeningly interesting things about her (apprenticed to a cranky old witch in a cave! saved her own life and the lives of her friends with an illegal and dangerous spell and it worked! reserved and undemonstrative yet regularly through her actions reveals herself to be deeply caring! disabled!) and then shows complete disinterest in following up on any of those things with the kind of depth and care shown to male characters with complex arcs like Urianger.

In general there is also a repeated thread of female characters being portrayed as weak or overly emotional: Minfilia is weak because she doesn't fight and needs to be eaten by a god in order to gain "a strength long sought." Krile is portrayed as not being able to pull her weight with the Scions (despite the fact that she actively keeps five of them from dying in Shadowbringers) and the only thing they could think of for her to do in Endwalker was be yet another vessel for Hydaelyn (hmm, that sounds familiar) and it's not until Dawntrail that she gets much actual character development in the main story and even that has to come alongside "Look, she can fight now so that means she's useful." (And I love Picto!Krile, I'm just saying, there's a pattern.) Alisaie, despite having very good reasons for needing to find her own path apart from her brother, is portrayed as having to prove herself when she returns, that she's "not the girl she once was," and "will not be a burden" (while Alphinaud is repeatedly given the benefit of the doubt and reassurance and affirmation from other characters even after he takes on responsibilities he isn't ready for and fucks up big time).

And if you follow me you know I adore Urianger, and I love Alphinaud and Thancred and Estinien too, so please don't misunderstand what I'm saying here! I'm not knocking those characters, or saying we shouldn't also love them. I just use them as a comparison to demonstrate how the female characters have been neglected.

Lyse has some of the stronger character development among the female Scions, and while she's still kind of portrayed as being too emotional and hotheaded in early Stormblood, I think it's actually explored in more depth in a way that I like; Lyse has good reasons for wanting to fight for her nation's freedom, but having been away from Ala Mhigo for several years now, she needs to understand the stakes for the people who've been there fighting for years, what they've lost and still have to lose. She grows as a person and rises to the challenge of leadership, and I'm even okay with the fact that she leaves the Scions afterward because it feels right for her to stay in Ala Mhigo, and at least she doesn't die.

And by all accounts she was, like Wuk Lamat, widely hated when her expansion came out.

Unironically I think the other female Scion with the strongest character arc is Tataru. She tries to take up a combat job, finds that it's not for her, and decides to focus on where her strengths are instead. In doing so, she both holds the Scions together as an organization in the absence of a leader by capably managing their finances, and also comes into her own as a businesswoman and makes international connections that benefit both the Scions and her personally. In contrast to Minfilia, she's not portrayed as weak because she doesn't fight, and is actually allowed to be an important character who's good for more than being sacrificed. Tataru is still distinctly in a supporting role for the player character, however, and her character arc happens as a side story that takes up a relatively small amount of screentime over several expansions, which I think is probably why she doesn't evoke such a negative reaction.

But there is a pattern of the game's writing showing disinterest in the interior lives of female characters generally, and in making their growth the focus of a story.

So yeah, I'm going to be happy about Wuk Lamat! I'm going to enjoy and celebrate every moment of her character arc, of her personal growth, of watching her put the lessons she's learned into action. I'm going to love and treasure every moment when she gets to be silly, embarrassing, emotional, scared, grieving, confused, upset, seasick, impulsive, and still deemed worthy of growing into a hero and a leader. I will love her with all of my soul and you simply will not convince me that it wasn't worth the screentime after such a profound imbalance for basically the entirety of the game. We've never had a major female character get such a strong arc with this much love and attention put into it and that means more to me than I can truly say. The backlash to it is disheartening, as this kind of thing always is, but I'm not going to let it ruin the wonderful experience I had playing it and how much joy it continues to bring me.

And for those of you who don't want any of that for a female character, thank goodness you have Heavensward and Shadowbringers and Endwalker and no one can take those away from you.

(And if you follow me you know that I love Shadowbringers and Endwalker and have very fond memories of Heavensward despite some issues with it, so not only can I not take that from you, I am not trying to!)

Some of us have been real hungry for a character like this with an arc like this, so, I think, y'know, maybe we can have that. As a treat.

[mxtxfanatic]

Who Killed Wei Wuxian? the Politics of Culpability in MDZS

The title is kind of a misnomer because we know how Wei Wuxian died and we know who is responsible, so let's get those quotes out the way:

“To be honest though, if it weren’t for young Chief Jiang’s knowledge of the Yiling Laozu’s weaknesses, the siege of the Burial Mounds might not have succeeded. Don’t forget what kinds of things Wei Wuxian has at his disposal. Don’t you remember when he annihilated more than 3,000 high level cultivators?”

—Chapt. 1: Rebirth, fanyiyi

[Wei Wuxian] “I have to clarify this. [Jiang Cheng] didn’t kill me. I died because one of my techniques backfired.”

—Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

Wei Wuxian died from the backlash of attempting to destroy the second yin tiger tally while the first siege of the Burial Mounds took place. Jiang Cheng and the rest of the cultivation world is directly responsible for his death, thus are to blame. However, this meta isn't about who we are "meant to" blame for Wei Wuxian's death but about the conversation that the novel has about culpability. Contrary to the bad faith engagement that happens around this topic within the fandom, mxtx actually brings up this culpability problem many times in the novel:

After a moment of silence, Wei Wuxian said, “What else have you heard?” “Jiang Cheng, Clan Chief Jiang, brought people to encircle and besiege the Burial Mounds. He killed you, sir.” “I have to clarify this. He didn’t kill me. I died because one of my techniques backfired.” Wen Ning finally lifted his eyes and looked at him directly. “But, Clan Chief Jiang, he clearly—" “It’s impossible for someone to walk on a lonely, single-log bridge safely and soundly for an entire lifetime. It couldn’t be helped.” Wen Ning seemed to want to sigh, though he had no breath to sigh with.

—Chapt. 43: Beauty I, fanyiyi

Wen Qing waited quietly for him to finish cursing, “And so, you see? There’s no use. With the way things are, the identity of the one who placed the curse of Hundred Holes is no longer important. What’s important is the fact that the hundreds of people at Qiongqi path and... Jin ZiXuan were indeed killed by A-Ning.” Wei WuXian, “... But, but...” But what? He himself didn’t even know what to put after ‘but’. He couldn’t think of a reason to give, an excuse to use. He spoke, “... But even then, I should be the one going. I was the one who made the corpses kill the people. Why would the knife go instead of the murderer?”

—Chapt. 77: Nightfall, exr

Wen Ning says that Jiang Cheng is to blame for Wei Wuxian's death while Wei Wuxian says that it was an inevitability that could only be blamed on the circumstances rather than any individual. The Wen siblings say that Wen Ning is the one who killed Jin Zixuan, but Wei Wuxian argues that he is the one who turned Wen Ning into a weapon, thus absolving Wen Ning of the crime and placing it solely on Wei Wuxian's shoulders as the weapon's wielder. Who's side does the novel take? Well to answer that, let's take a look at another character who has caused many deaths throughout the novel: Jin Guangyao:

Jin GuangYao saw through the worries in his eyes instantly, and became so enraged that he actually started to laugh, “Lan XiChen! All my life, I’ve lied to countless people and have destroyed countless more. Just as you’ve said, murdering my father, my brother, my wife, my son, my master, my friends—There’s not a single sin left in this world that I haven’t committed!”

—Chapt. 108: Concealment Part 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Of all the characters Jin Guangyao lists, he personally, with his own hands, verifiably killed two. Jin Guangshan was raped to death. Qin Su committed suicide. Jin Zixuan was killed in the Qionqi Path ambush. The details of Jin Rusong's death are unknown. Jin Guangyao didn't even personally kill any of the clans the Jin used as experiments nor did he murder the sex workers with his own hands. Only Wen Ruohan and Nie Mingjue were directly killed by Jin Guangyao—the former by being literally stabbed in the back and the latter through poisoning—so why does Jin Guangyao claim responsibility? It's because he planned these death. Without his direct manipulations and explicit intention to kill, none of those characters would have died as they did. Thus, despite not taking a knife to each of them individually, the blood of all of these characters is on Jin Guangyao's hands.

Here's another example:

It had taken the Four Great Sects three full months of recuperation, reorganization and planning before they’d finally become ready to take seize upon Burial Mound in retaliation; at last “exterminating” the last remnants of the Wen Sect along with the deranged Yiling Patriarch himself.

—Chapt. 108: Concealment Part 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Around 3,000 cultivators gathered to kill 50 individuals. Logically, there is no way that 3,000 people literally had a direct hand in killing a few dozen people. However, they all came with the explicit intent to massacre, and they all take pride and credit in having participated in the first siege. Even though not nobody took turns personally smashing Granny Wen's head in, they are each still culpable for her and the other Wen remnants' deaths.

But what about the people who were "only following orders" (the Nuremberg defense, for people who haven't yet released how many of villain stan defenses sound like Nazi arguments) or "didn't mean" their actions? Should they be blamed just for being followers of bad people, whether be it because they genuinely believed in the mastermind's lies or wanted to personally benefit from the chaos? Should they be considered blameless for murderous intent that makes a victim of the "wrong" person? Mdzs addresses that, too:

One of them shouted from afar, “Wei... Wei Ying! If you’re really that strong, why don’t you go find those sect leaders participating in the pledge conference? What could you prove by picking on us low-level cultivators with no power to fight back?” Wei WuXian let out another short whistle. The cultivator who shouted felt as a hand suddenly tugged him down. He fell off the city gate, breaking both of his legs, and began to scream. Amid the wails, Wei WuXian’s expression didn’t change at all, “Low-level cultivators? Do I have to tolerate you, just because you’re low-level cultivators? If you dared say those things, you had to dare shoulder the consequences. If you knew that you were insignificant pieces of scum as filthy as ants, how come you didn’t know to think before you speak?!”

—Chapt. 77: Nightfall, exr

Wei WuXian could tell the arrow tip was originally aiming for his heart, his vital region. Yet, because the archer wasn’t skilled, the force of the arrow tip dwindled by midair to have missed the heart and shot into the ribcage. Everyone around the person who shot the arrow had eyes wide open, staring with shock and even fear at the disciple who had done such a thing. Wei WuXian looked up. Darkness veiled his face. He pulled out the arrow and tossed it back hard. With a wail, the young cultivator who snuck an attack at him was hit right in the chest with the arrow he tossed back! A boy next to him threw himself on top of him, “Brother! Brother!” The sect’s array was immediately thrown into chaos. The sect leader pointed at Wei WuXian with one shaking finger, “You... You... You are so cruel!” With his right hand, Wei WuXian unhurriedly pressed the wound at his chest, temporarily ceasing the blood flow. His voice was indifferent, “What does cruel mean? If he dared shoot the arrow at me when I was off guard, he should’ve known what would be facing him if he failed. They call me the cultivator of the crooked path, anyways, so you can’t possibly count on me to be generous and not bother with him, can you?”

...

Wei WuXian was pushed onto the ground again by the force. The next time he looked up, he saw the gleaming blade of a sword pierce through her throat. The boy holding the sword was the young cultivator who cried over the disciple who had shot the arrow. He was still crying, eyes covered in tears, “You thief! This is for my brother!” Sitting on the dirty ground, Wei WuXian stared with disbelief at Jiang YanLi, whose head had already dipped, blood trickling ceaselessly from her neck. ... The boy finally realized that he killed the wrong person. He pulled out the sword, along with a series of bloody spurts. With fright, he staggered back, mumbling, “... I-It wasn’t me, it wasn’t... I was going to kill Wei WuXian, I was going to avenge my brother... She was the one who threw herself over on her own!”

—Chapt. 78: Nightfall, exr

The cultivators both at Nightless City and those who didn't go choose to provoke Wei Wuxian based on the slander spread by the cultivation clan leaders. Those at Nightless City are gathered specifically to pledge to kill him. However, the moment Wei Wuxian turns his sights on them, then it's "But we're just baby 🥺 why not pick on someone your own size?" Wei Wuxian's response is masterful in that he calls them out for what they are: opportunistic cowards who prey on the weak but fear the strong. They wanted to attack him without consequences, but the moment consequences happened, they wanted to shift responsibility. The clan of the boy who attempted to kill Wei Wuxian is the same, as well as that boy's brother who killed Jiang Yanli. You chose to be here, you chose to participate, so just as you wanted to share in the spoils, you must also share in the responsibility, whether you were able to achieve your goal or not.

Now with all of this context in mind, let's circle back to Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian's convos: who are the killers? In the case of the first siege, the answer is Jiang Cheng... as well as the rest of the cultivation world. While the responsibility may vary in degrees (Jiang Cheng owed a debt to the Wen siblings and Wei Wuxian that the other participants did not), it is still a shared one. In the case of the Qionqi Path ambush, Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, too, share and accept responsibility despite only one person getting their hands dirty while the other person (subconsciously) gave the orders. Wei Wuxian may have turned Wen Ning into a fierce corpse, but Wen Ning had the consciousness to refuse and chose not to in service of defending the man who saved his family.

Finally, I want to leave on this note: while Jiang Cheng is to blame for Wei Wuxian's death, Wei Wuxian, himself, does not wish to place that blame on his former shidi. One reason is that he acknowledges that his murder was a forgone conclusion—something anyone would have plotted towards, anyways, with or without Jiang Cheng's willing intervention—the moment the cultivation world turned on him as an enemy, and two, because of this:

Suddenly, [Jiang Cheng] said, “I’m sorry.” Wei WuXian froze, then said, “......You don’t have to say sorry.” After everything that had happened between them, it was impossible to tell who was the one most at fault.

—Chapt. 103: A Hatred for Life Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

There is so much bad blood between these two that to weigh their transgressions against each other—particularly in the wake of the golden core transfer reveal—would be petty and diminish them both as people. Wei Wuxian gave up his golden core for the man who later willingly and gleefully plotted his murder, but Jiang Cheng lost his only friend, his sister, and his reputation over all of those jealousy-clouded decisions. In a way, this entanglement made them both lose, so the best answer is to cut the loss and move on (Wei Wuxian's approach) rather than trying to forcefully maintain the connection of tangled debts at the threat of facing even bigger losses (Jiang Cheng's approach until the climax). There's nothing to be gained from trying to hold Jiang Cheng accountable for his crimes against Wei Wuxian, so it's best to simply let sleeping dogs lie and for Wei Wuxian to continue to live his life happily no longer tied in any way to the man who led to his death.

[satrs]

Heyyy! Hope you're doing well!

Thinking about soft dom Inumaki rn tho. Like what if she was so soft but reader basically begged him to take more control, take more control, maybe use his cursed speech on them on minor things? Like scareming his name etc.

So yeah do with that request as you see fit lol

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎ yesss he needs some more attention like fr! i feel like almost no one talks abt my baby anymore like??? C'MON!!

I'm doing fine and I hope u do too! Thanks for the request and have a lovely day/night/evening!^^

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ!

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; dom!inumaki toge x sub!fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 0.7k

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT! MDNI! fingering. nipple sucking (on fem!).

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!

"You don't gotta be so soft with me all the time Toge. I'm not made out of glass, you know."

Inumaki couldn't believe what he just heard. Where was that coming from? And what do you mean with 'not soft?' Did you want him to be rougher with you? Slap you? His questioning expression caused you to chuckle, turning around on your position on the bed, fully facing him. "I love how we fuck. It's just- maybe take more control? It's just that-"

He drowned out your words completely as he starred holes into the celling above him. Take more control? But how could he when his sweet little girl was just so breathtakingly gorgeous when she took what she wanted?

And you're wrong. For him, you are made out of glass, such delicate skin and angelic body almost too perfect to have a single rough finger layed on.

But on the other hand, you are is gorgeous girl so why complain to your requests? If that's what you really want, he would give it to you.

He didn't even knew what you were rambling about as his mouth moved almost on it's own without much mind too it.

"Quiet."

As if on cue, you immediately stopped talking, eyes widdening as you realized what he just did. You heart beats rapidly with excitement as you bit your lower lip when you noticed him crawling ontop of you, sly smirk adoring his handsome face.

He didn't have to utter a word for you to understand what was on his mind right now, moving your hand to your top in an attempt to strip naked.

"Don't do that." And again, you helplessly withdrawn your hand back to it's previous spot but this time, not on cursed command but solely on his words alone, big orbs starred up at him in anticipation. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips before giving into the temption to capture your lips with his, sighing into your mouth at your delicate taste.

His hands explored your body, squezzing your breast in his hand while the other hand was occupied with finding it's way into your flimsy panties.

His lips parted from yours, directly attacking your neck with wet and sloppy kisses and licks, sucking marks onto your tender skin before returning back to caputer your neglected nipple into his mouth. You moaned at his actions, hands tangling into his white locks only to be slapped away and pinned next to your head.

His fingers played with your slick folds, small circles being drawn onto your clit as you bucked up into his touch needily. As his fingers slowly entered your aching hole he let out a groan at the feeling of your velvet walls sucking his fingers in so graciously.

Your breathing was turning heavier with each movement of his fingers, toes curling in pleasure as he hit that one particular spot inside of you. Sinful sounds escaped your mouth as your vision slowly blurred with the increasing of his finger's movements, hand desperatly clinging onto his head then his hand in an attempt to escape the almost too pleasurable feeling of both his mouth and hand working wonders on you.

He took your weak hand in his, interwinding your fingers to stop your pitiful actions. "Tell me how you feel."

A slight electric tingle went through your body at the cursed command, almost to deep in pleasure to answer. "T-too good! I can't- I'm gonna cum Toge! Sososo good!"

He hummed in content at your answer, attention turning back to your body as he drew you near the edge with every second passing.

With one last curl of his fingers your back arched into his touch, mouth falling open as praises and cries of his name came past them while you unraveled underneath him.

While you came down from your high you tried to break free of his grasp, only for his interlocked fingers to tighten their grip as his other hand worked on his pants. "Don't move." He said, slight whine flying past your lips as you licked your lip in anticipation.

A good talk always brings good outcomes, right?

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[swaps55]

When does Anderson realise what's going on between Sam and Kaidan?

After the Normandy goes down he glimpses into Kaidan's grief. When Kaidan starts fighting his way back after that he gets to know him better. When does the other shoe drop? He knows Sam so well, shouldn't be taking him forever ..?

This is a FANTASTIC question, and one I have given a fair amount of thought. I'd claim "spoilers!" and keep the answer close to the chest, but it'll be a hot minute before I get to it, and who knows if anyone will still be reading by that point. XD

Still, I'll put it under a spoiler for anyone who doesn't want to know.

I initially asked myself the same question: why hasn't Anderson figured this out yet?

And here's the answer I came to: Anderson is not just grieving a soldier, he's grieving a son, and I imagine he feels very alone in that grief. Plenty of people knew Commander Shepard. Not many people knew Sam. In Kaidan, Anderson has found a rare person who understands his grief. That's a powerful thing. My guess is that he wouldn't take the time to ask why or examine it very deeply - all his emotional and mental energy is going towards burying and moving on for someone he loved like his own child.

When Sam comes back, I don't think it occurs to him to ask, "why do you care so much?" when "thank god you care as much as I do," is all that really matters.

So with that said, when does he figure it out?

Originally, my answer was: he doesn't. I was going to leave it at, "he never figures it out on his own, and Sam doesn't get the chance to tell him." It was going to be a huge regret for Sam that his father figure never knew he'd found someone.

But as I've gotten deeper into Opus and deeper into Mezzo, I'm no longer happy with that. It feels like pain for the sake of pain, rather than pain that's meaningful to the narrative or to the characters.

So toss that one in the garbage. So what does happen, then? Sam and Anderson don't have a whole lot of opportunity to interact before the reapers come. When Sam is in lockup, he's not exactly going to be chatty about his fraternization history. We've already walked through that he doesn't really clock it from Kaidan, because the role Kaidan plays in Anderson's own complicated feelings for Sam's death and resurrection give him a pretty big blind spot.

My working premise, then, is that Anderson does find out, but not because he figures it out.

It's because when Kaidan gets injured on the final push, Sam pulls his helmet off and lays one on him right in front of Anderson before they say goodbye, and Anderson has a bigger "oh" moment than either Sam or Kaidan ever had, lol.

I've written a snippet of the conversation Sam and Anderson might have about it in Anderson's final moments. It's less a snippet and more of some passing dialogue in my head that I scribbled down so I wouldn't forget it:

~

"Tell me about him. About...you and him."

"What about it?"

Anderson gestures with a weak hand. "Any of it. All of it. I...missed everything, and it was right under my nose."

"No," Shepard says softly. "You didn't. It just sort of...grew up around us. Like it never started and just always...was."

"Tell me."

At first Shepard is silent. Fear strikes Anderson's heart, but then he shifts, exhale coming out like a rattle. "Ever just...meet someone, and then turn around one day and realize there is nothing you wouldn't do, no bridge you wouldn't cross, no sin you wouldn't commit...for them."

A faltering smile touches Anderson's lips as he remembers the lost boy playing in the fountain, the kid who was determined to bend physics to his will, the man who laid in a hospital bed after turning the N7 test on its head and asked if he'd done enough.

"Yes. I have."

[forestdeath1]

Lily and James — the alchemical Queen and King. Lily is the main symbol of the entire saga.

In Harry Potter, there are two levels - the mundane and the symbolic. On the mundane level, Lily is a character with her own strengths and weaknesses. On the symbolic level, Lily is the main symbol of the entire saga. Perhaps that's why there's so little talk about her because symbolically Lily is what everyone strives for, everyone searches for but cannot find. Harry learns more about Lily only before the final battle, and there's a reason for that.

It's no secret that HP books are heavily laden with alchemical and Christian symbolism. I'm not religious, and to me, all these symbols are just cultural codes that have had a significant influence on almost all classic literature and art.

Philipp Otto Runge, Chagall, Goethe — they're all alchemical codes

Firstly, alchemy is not about literally turning lead into gold, it's a path of spiritual development, a path of transformation, a "hero's journey," the journey of the Son returning to the Father. Alchemical transformation is described in the text "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz." This is the third manifesto of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood.

So, lilies are a very ancient symbol.

According to Jewish legends, the lily grew in Eden just at the time of Eve's temptation by the devil and could be defiled by him, but even amid temptation, it remained as pure as it was, and no dirty hand dared to touch it. In early medieval depictions, Christ was placed against a backdrop of lilies or in the lily flower, seen as a symbol of the Virgin Mary. The orange lily often symbolizes the blood of Christ.

Symbolically, Lily is the love of God, a divine spark, and the blood of Christ itself, which was shed in the name of redemption and salvation to atone for the sins of all humanity. And what is the blood of Christ? In Christian tradition, the blood of Jesus Christ is a symbol of the life-giving and saving spirit of God.

By the way, lilies and roses were often confused in translations, and symbolically they are the same. Many suspected that the Rosicrucians' rose is a stylized version of the Egyptian and Indian flowering lotus, and the lotus has often been considered a water lily (they are different, but symbolically they merged). But calling the main character Rose would be too dull and obvious a reference.

Lily - symbolically, she is both the mother of Christ and the Spirit of God herself, the bearer of divine love, to which all seekers are drawn. This is not the only meaning, but for now, it's enough.

God is love, says John the Apostle. (Remus John Lupin, hehe. It was absolutely unnecessary to know his middle name. It's intentionally inserted because each of the marauders, except Sirius, by name signifies one of the disciples closest to Christ. Sirius is a separate story, he signifies something completely different.)

And who is drawn? Well, primarily we see two - James and Snape.

One of the most important things we learn about James is that he's a deer. The deer is a well-known symbol. In myths and folk beliefs, the deer was associated with the soul's aspiration to heaven and purification.

"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God" Ps. 42: 1

In the Alexandrian "Physiologus," there's an ancient enmity between the stag and the serpent. The serpent hides from the foe in the clefts of the earth, but the stag, with the help of water, draws out the serpent and defeats it. (Water has always been a symbol of the serpent, even in Slytherin's element water, but the stag fights the serpent not with ordinary water but with the water of baptism. The snake has another important meaning for alchemy, but more on that later.)

Snape belongs to the Serpent, to secret knowledge, occult knowledge, "philosophical" reason, dark magic, which has always been contrary to the divine nature in Christian understanding and originated from the devil. James belongs to the Lion and the Deer.

The Lion is a typical alchemical symbol. Also, the Red Lion is Christ. Gryffindor embodies the soul's aspiration towards light and transformation, towards salvation. By the way, St. Godric (the hermit) also had his own pet deer, which he saved.

The deer seeks love, the spirit of God, the divine spark, God Himself, and in this persistent pursuit is shown James's path, as a seeker and as an alchemist. The Potters — if not alchemists themselves, then at least from the lineage of alchemists — the Peverells (The symbol of the Deathly Hallows is an alchemical-masonic symbol). And this means that the Potters are at least seekers; in their souls, there is a desire to find the divine and undergo transformation. The Potters have a strong hatred for the 'serpentine essence' of evil, and this is what needs to be transformed. (By the way, the graveyard is located near St. Jerome's Church. Besides translating the Bible into Latin, Jerome also healed and tamed a lion).

Masonic-alchemical symbol. Symbol of the philosopher's stone. Symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Solve et coagula is a principle of alchemy meaning "dissolve and coagulate".

An alchemist is a gardener, and this is another interesting reference to James and Lily. The way James tries to find an approach to Lily is an alchemical process. The alchemist tends to the Garden. In Vrisvik's Great Work (the Magnum Opus), it appears as the Garden of the Wise. The Gates to the Garden of the Wise for the Chosen become the process of dissolving "our Substance." James manages to approach Lily only when he dissolves his Ego. The Ego is the main enemy on the path to transformation.

The tradition of "hermetic gardening," that is, "cultivating the flowers of Wisdom in one's garden," becomes a leading line in alchemical symbolism. James cultivates wisdom.

While Snape cultivates "dark knowledge," although his soul also strives for light and love. But Snape is still too captured by his Ego, too captivated by base emotions, a thirst for revenge, recognition, or power, a craving for "secret knowledge." He cannot resist it, no matter how much he may strive for Lily, for the divine transformation of his spirit, and James, still dwelling in his Ego, instead of showing mercy to Snape, pushes him further away. The stag fights the serpent, but God is love. Ultimately, Snape temporarily closes off the paths of alchemical transformation for himself.

The Rebis is the end product of the alchemical magnum opus or great work. The lion must dissolve the serpent. Hermetic gardening. The alchemical wedding: the Queen and the King.

But besides all this, the deer is also a symbol of eternal renewal and victory over death ("The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" 1 Corinthians 15:26 ). A symbol of Christ. His constantly renewing antlers represent eternal life.

In the original Greek of the New Testament, the names Jacob and James are variants of the same root—Yaaqob. James is an active force, a seeker, an investigator, a supplanter. James the Great was of a rather impulsive character, but everyone was also amazed by his courage, he was the only one who acknowledged Christ as the Messiah. And he is the only apostle whose death is described in the New Testament. He dies at the hands of King Herod, a cynical and evil king who was willing to murder babies for his purpose. James also dies at the hands of Voldemort, who is willing to kill a baby for his purpose.

Moreover, it was Saint James who was considered the heavenly patron of alchemists. His tomb was located in Santiago de Compostela, which was the oldest center of adepts. It was there, in 1378, after twenty years of unsuccessful attempts to decipher the Book of Hieroglyphic Figures, that Nicolas Flamel, the most famous alchemist of the Middle Ages, went. By the way, Shell Cottage... the scallop shell is a symbol of the apostle James and the "trademark" of the Way of St. James. Shell Cottage is also alchemical. It is there that Harry sees the symbol of the Deathly Hallows around Lovegood's neck.

James is a seeker. Lily is a symbol of the divine spirit, sparks, transformation. That to which all must ultimately come, that which must change in our world in the image of God. But for now, our world is seized by evil, by the antichrist. To defeat death means to defeat the antichrist in one's soul.

James finds Lily. The Soul finds the Spirit. The Spirit descends into the Soul. The King and Queen marry—and a new life is born, another hero capable of defeating the evil that has engulfed the world, capable of cleansing the world of evil. The connection between Harry and Christ is no secret to anyone.

The power of love conquers death. A rune appears on Harry's forehead—Sowilo rune—the victory rune, the sun rune, the irreversible rune. It symbolically serves as the key to the world of Alfheim—the world of the light elves, that is, the bright ideas, the prototypes of the buddhial plane, the ideality in this world.

The key to God. Harry becomes marked. His scar is a reminder to him that he came into this world not just by chance, but to destroy evil. And coming into this world, materializing, a person invariably receives a particle of the antichrist within himself. That's how this world works. Evil is in the soul of each of us, and through the Great Work, a person must purify himself.

And none can live while the other survives, because they mutually exclude each other by their very nature. Christ and antichrist.

But Harry has a difficult path ahead, the path of the Great Work before he can achieve victory. And that will be the theme of all 7 books, 7 years — exactly 7 days is the duration of The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz for the transformation oh his soul, for victory over death.

[glowingbadger]

Hi everyone, I have a mental illness called Welt Yang.

Save me massive DILF cock save me

As a disclaimer, I'm an HSR-only Welt enjoyer, so you'll have to forgive me as I do my best to nail his voice and character down (no, I will not "just play HI3," how much time and hard drive space for Hoyo games do you think I have) - plus, it's my first time writing him, and I'm always a little less sure on my first outing with a character, even when it's, y'know, just smut.

CWs include some pretty rough/intense sex, my shameless size-queen tendencies, and some... aggressively cane-centric foreplay (is that even a thing?? Is anyone into this?? I just got possessed by the idea and had to try it, sorry not sorry)

Welt Yang (HSR) x GN/AFAB Reader

NSFW 18+

What does it take to provoke Welt Yang? This question had lingered as an impertinent impulse in the back of your mind for far too long now- since before the two of you had confessed your feelings for one another. Even then, in that vulnerable moment between you, while his joy and relief at your reciprocated feelings had been clear, he remained the picture of reason and maturity. Some time later, you'd now realized that even while making love, he remained impressively composed. Rather, he seemed restrained. And that word- restraint- that, you would not stand for.

When he holds you in his bed, Welt is focused, dedicated, relentlessly devoted to your satisfaction. He exhibits the kind of skill that only comes with years, and as for his size and stamina both, he certainly provides more than you had ever dared to hope for. He's given you nothing to complain about- and yet, there's one thing you still crave. You want to see him falter. You want to push him somehow, to see how he responds to something new and unexpected and sinful.

That's how you've found yourself at the door to his quarters in only a loose buttoned shirt and panties. After a quick courtesy-knock, you slip into his room and close the door behind you. Welt is seated in a modest but comfortable armchair, a book in one hand while the other absently rests on his cane at his side. His extra layers have been forgone for the night, leaving him in a turtleneck and trousers, and a responsibly portioned glass of liquor rests on an end table beside him, barely touched. His eyes flick up over his glasses at you when you enter, and his expression softens- then, he takes another look, and his eyebrows rise just slightly.

"Evening," he says in his usual measured tone, "Do you need something, dearest?"

"Just to see you," you reply sweetly. His eyes are warm on you as you approach, your hands fussing aimlessly with the hem of the shirt that just barely flits around your upper thighs. Despite this, his line of sight remains disciplined.

When he speaks next you're already carefully easing onto his lap to straddle his hips.

"It's getting late," his composure remains, but you catch his voice subconsciously dipping lower as you settle against him, "You... ought to get some rest."

This close, and at this angle, you imagine Welt can appreciate just how few of this shirt's buttons you've deigned to utilize tonight. Yet other than that tantalizing dip of his voice, he has yet to show the slightest weakness.

"Actually, I was thinking we could help each other relax a bit tonight," you say with a grin. At last, he sets aside the book in his hand, and his golden eyes meet yours.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

Your coy smirk makes your intentions more than clear, but this is so like him. As always, Welt seeks to gather intel before making any moves of his own- but you're prepared for this.

"How about this," you say, brushing his bangs from his eyes, "I'll give you a hint, and you tell me what you think."

"Hm," he hums softly, "Very well. I'll do my best not to disappoint."

He moves to dissipate the cane manifested in his hand, but you instead take both it and his hand, and guide them up towards you. You position the cane until the tip is planted in the seat cushion, between both your legs and Welt's. The staff of it travels up the center of your body and, as you nestle yourself against it, between your breasts. The handle, of course, is level with your lips.

You watch Welt's chest rise and fall with a single long breath as he observes you. With one hand holding the cane steady, your other strokes the handle as you draw it to your mouth. Slowly, shamelessly, you circle the end with your tongue, and practically moan when you notice his eyes narrow and his fingers clench tight at the armrest beside him. But he says nothing.

You keep pushing, tracing the cane's handle with your tongue, making sure to keep your arms drawn in around your chest all the while so he can enjoy the sight of it held snug between your breasts.

Welt murmurs your name, and you offer him an innocent smile.

"Something wrong?"

"Not at all," he replies, eyes fixed directly on you, "Please, go on."

An understated reply- but you can tell you're finally inching past his iron-clad stoicism.

Your free hand runs up and down the length of the cane while your lips brush the tip in that same deliberately sensual way. Welt's jaw tightens. You shift the cane just slightly so that it's pressing between your thighs, and rock your lower body gently forward so it rubs lewdly against you. Immediately, you notice your lover practically digging his fingernails into the armrest, and you smile as you give a soft, moaning sigh. You let him watch like this for a while; your hips sway at a slow an erotic pace, and while one hand continues to hold onto Welt's cane, the other sneaks the fabric of you shirt upward just enough that he can clearly see you rubbing yourself against the staff. Your cunt is already warm and wet with arousal, and each pass slickens the cane just a little through your already-soaked panties.

With a flick of his fingers, he exerts the slightest pressure on the cane, adjusting its angle and rutting it more firmly against you. You inhale sharply, your eyes briefly unfocused, yet he only says,

"Make yourself cum."

You hardly notice the whimper you let out as you firmly, wantonly grind your wet cunt along his cane. The way he's holding your gaze makes your heart race. The stern furrow of his brow has dashed every thought from your mind but the desire to please him.

"I believe I understand your 'hint,' dearest," he speaks softly, but with a heat simmering just beneath the surface. His hand trails warm up the outer curve of your thigh, and he says, "You're trying to rile me up, is that it?"

Your face is warm and flush, and you nod as you watch him with dazed and unfocused eyes.

"Interesting. To what end, I wonder?"

As he speaks, Welt subtly moves the cane between your thighs, enhancing the strangely stimulating sensation of it grinding against your clit. Your hips move in time, matching his rhythm and urging you steadily closer to your climax. The tension winds tight in your belly, your lips part as you softly sigh and moan your lover's name.

"You're... always so co-composed..."

Welt considers your reply, never easing the pressure at your clit.

"And you would like to see me... less composed, I take it?" you nod, he hums softly, "I see."

"Welt," you whine, the pace of your hips slowing as your thighs begin to tremble, "Ohh... mmmh, g-gonna-!"

With a shaky breath and a shudder down your spine, your head tilts back as you cum on the shaft of Welt's cane. Fuck- it's so depraved, a rush you'd only imagined in the quiet of your private quarters late at night. Now, your body trembles as your climax makes your nerves tingle and your legs feel weak. You can't imagine how shameless you must look in this moment. Yet Welt doesn't say a word as his cane vanishes, and his arm wraps under your backside.

He stands in one swift movement, lifting you in his arms and carrying you towards his bed. Soon enough, you're laid beneath him, both wrists pinned down under one of his hands. If you'd had time to collect your thoughts, they'd already be scattered again; he's looking at you in a way you've never seen before. A ravenous way that's so unlike the gentle, rational gaze you know.

"You wanted to break my composure?" he draws near, his breath hot against your face. His hips press between your thighs, and you feel his cock, rock hard and straining against his trousers, rutting firm against your soaked-through panties, "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to restrain myself enough to carry out my work each day? How hard it is to maintain this composure around you?"

"You..." you can barely speak, your skin feels like it's burning, "It never seems like..."

"Perhaps I have been too reserved, in my desire not to unduly pressure you," his voice lowers to a near-growl, "But let me make this perfectly clear. I want you every time you return from a mission. When I see you're safe, and I see that glow, the way you shine when you've accomplished your goal- I want to take you then and there against the windows and watch the stars reflect in your eyes while I fill you."

"We-Welt, I-"

"I want you when I see you talking and laughing with the others, and I feel so fortunate to have you that I want to make you cry out my name, just to remind myself that you're truly mine."

"Welt..!" you're desperate with arousal, and each word only compounds your growing need for him.

"I want you when you wear a new outfit. I want you when I sketch you. I want you when I can't sleep at night," his lower body grinds against you, forcing a breathy moan from your throat as his cock throbs between your lower lips, "I want you now- so badly that I'm not certain I can be as gentle with you as I'd like."

You can't breathe. Can't think. There's nothing- nothing but this man and his body and his lust and his heat between your thighs.

"Please..." you whisper.

Welt discards his glasses on the floor beside the bed, then tugs his shirt over his head to follow. It's uncharacteristically rushed and careless of him. In fact, he can't even be bothered to finish undressing either of you; he simply opens the front of his trousers and works his throbbing-hard cock from his boxer briefs, then tugs your underwear down your legs so forcefully you think he might tear them. He supports himself with his forearm on the pillow beside your head, while his free hand positions his massive length at your entrance. You feel the heat of his crown nestled between your folds, the tip pressed torturously against you. He exerts the last of his restraint to hold there while he hooks his arm under your knee and pulls your leg upward, spreading your thighs wider. Then, with a groan that resolves into a sigh of relief, he pushes into you.

"Fuck-!" your gasp is barely audible. He begins thrusting his hips immediately. Gone is all of the careful foreplay meandering towards gentle love-making. Finally, at long last, Welt is fucking you, with all of his strength and passion. Already, your head is swimming, your eyes rolling back as his thick cock stretches you around him, driving deeper and deeper with every urgent push of his body against yours. Your shirt is scrunched up beneath you, a single button at your bust struggling to hold fast while Welt ravages you against the mattress. Then, his lips are on yours, and he's kissing you with deep, open-mouthed erotic kisses that couldn't be further from his usual gentlemanly technique. He's hungry for you, greedy for your body and your kiss, and ready to truly claim you at last.

You don't even notice that he's no longer pinning you down until you realize your nails are dragging down his back. His abdomen tightens with every thrust, his shoulder muscles rhythmically tense. Briefly, you wonder at how he's able to keep in such incredible shape at his age- but the insistent pounding of his cock at your very deepest point hardly gives the impression of a man flagging with years. The tinge of pain as he hits your core is wonderful, each spark of it lighting a new fire to build upon the last. It only compounds with the pleasure of him utterly filling you, stroking a thousand different sensitive spots that only he has ever reached. Your pussy clings and squeezes around him, yet your prior orgasm and this ecstatic thrill of him fucking you so deep and hard have you more than wet enough to take him with all of this new forceful intensity. You gasp and moan for him freely, and he echoes your name in reply with that low, rasping tone of his that makes you ache.

The primal rush of it all has left your mind blissfully vacant. Your free leg- the one not still being held spread over Welt's arm- wraps around his hip, or his thigh, or some part of him. Once he's kissed you dizzy, his lips travel to the column of your neck, and little blooms of pain and pleasure across your skin tell you he must be marking you fiercely. He's panting into the crook of your neck, his thrusts a bit faster, a bit more erratic.

"So good..." he groans, "So... damn good. Don't know... how much longer I can..."

"Issokay," you breathe out in a daze, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, "Me... t-too..."

Welt's body pitches forward, tilting you back on the bed as he buries himself in you to the root. His hips shift just a little, just enough to feel more of that exquisite friction. The pressure of him filling you so completely seems to travel up through your center, and when he gasps out your name and begins to cum inside of you, the powerful throbbing of his shaft sends ripples through your entire body. You cum just as he does, head spinning and crying aloud for him as he pumps his heat into your waiting cunt. His cock twitches, pulses with his orgasm, and his head sinks down onto the pillow beside you as he releases your leg at last and wraps his arm instead around your midsection to hold you against him.

Seconds, maybe minutes pass in the blissful quiet of his bedroom. You each struggle to catch your breath, and you can hardly muster the strength to move your limbs. At last, Welt kisses you once more, briefly and sweetly, before pulling out from your sore and over-filled pussy, then slumping down onto the bed with you.

"Is that... What you had in mind?" Welt says with a subdued smile.

"uh-huh," you turn towards him on the bed, your fingertips idly grazing the line of his jaw, down towards his lips, "Though, it was way better in reality than I'd imagined."

Welt's smile broadens just a little, emphasizing the handsome creases near his eyes. His arm wraps around your waist.

"I think, perhaps, we ought to spend some time... Trading notes."

"Oh?" you settle more closely against him, still fluttery and giddy inside.

"I would hazard a guess that you have a few more ideas and desires that we haven't yet discussed. I certainly have no complaints about being seduced," he nudges your chin up with a hand and kisses you, slowly and tenderly. When he parts from you, his voice is low once more, "But for now, I want to know everything I can about how to satisfy you, utterly and completely. If it pleases you, then... I won't hold back anymore."

[hollowed-theory-hall]

been noticing something in the fandom lately well not lately I would say for the past couple or more years that the side characters who were considered underrated started getting more and more recognition which is a good thing not complaining. But as these side characters appreciation sky rocketed, Harry's on the other hand kept on declining ??? Its a little mind boggling to me that people are able to love the mc's bffs, mc's parents, wife, previous love interest, enemies, teachers so much...but not the mc himself ??? Weird that it almost feels like these folks dodged around harry while reading HIS story !!

Your blog gives me hope, more people should follow you. Seriously

Thank you so much! 💕

I'm glad you like my blog and I think there are more of us who love Harry than you might think.

I'm not, like, an expert on fandom culture in the HP fandom since I wasn't really active in it until recently, and even now I kinda have my bubble that likes Harry a lot. I mean, yes, there's the New Marauders Fandom that is notorious for mischaracterizing basically everyone and diminishing the og story for the sake of their own fanon, but I think the dislike of Harry's character in favor of side characters is older than that in the fandom. Like, I remember "Harry is so lame" and "Harry isn't that powerful" and "Hary's just Expeliarmus" talk from way back in the day like a decade ago. So, I don't think it's really new.

If I had to guess at a culprit to blame, I'd blame the movies.

Becouse movie Harry is all these things:

he has no personality (he has none of Harry's sass and anger and wit)

he's passive

he's lame

he's weak (both emotionally and magically)

and worse than all of the above — he's boring.

Like, everything the people who hate Harry say about him is true for movie Harry, but couldn't be further from the truth when it comes to his book counterpart. This is why Harry's characterization has always been the movies' greatest sin for me and I hope the new HBO tv show gets it right (though my hopes are pretty low). Like, I could forgive certain inaccuracies if they get the vibe of the world and the characters right — but movie Harry is a hate crime against me personally.

And while characters like Ginny and Ron also suffer in their movie portrayal, characters like Hermione, Neville, Luna, Draco, and Snape got interesting portrayals (if inaccurate to the books) which resulted in movie fans liking them more. Like, I don't think you could read the books without coming to the conclusion Harry is a great character, so... I'm blaming the movies and fans who only read fanfiction/watch the movies and never touched the books. Or ones who read the books a decade ago and don't necessarily remember anything from them and only know the fanon, that's also a possibility.

[willowisapillow]

👑🍑 Why Peach Is One Of My Favorite Comfort Characters 🍑👑

It’s Princess Peach Month, babes, and as a fangirl, I’m obligated to make a post like this become a reality. Feels quite sinful that I wasn’t able to jack for the month last year (aside from reposting some cringy fanart), but this year I’ll try and bring my A game this year. Was also inspired to make this post after reading some articles that are in defense of characters that are in a similar vein to Peach, like Daphne Blake and the Disney Princesses (specifically the classic ones like Snow White, Cinderella and Aurora).

Last year, I made a post where I partially went in defense of the pink diplomat, but for this post, I’m gonna go in full defense of her, and also why she’s personally special to me.

Now, where do I even begin? Imo, Peach has been one of the most unnecessarily lambasted, maligned, overhated but also misunderstood characters in not just Super Mario, video games, but also fiction as a whole.

One of the most talked about criticisms I hear about her is, “ShE’s UsElEsS, aNd Is aLwAyS bEiNg KiDnApPeD LiKe EvErY dAy”. While it kinda has become somewhat of a running gag in the series, I am willing to admit that she’s not always able to defend herself. However, I’m still here to say that’s she’s far from useless or weak, girlie clearly can defend herself, like- are y’all really forgetting the many times where she can be strong like in SM3DW, Mario + Rabbids, SMB2, SMBW, SMRPG, and so many other titles? Hell, are we really forgetting about the movie that literally just came out a year ago where she’s being a strong, dutiful leader, AND the fact that she has two solo starring games where it was her turn to save the day all by herself? Let’s also not forget the Smash Bros. series where she’s one of the highest ranked characters in three of the entries. And also, it’s not, “every day”, some of y’all need to stop exaggerating that 💀

Even when in captivity, she still manages to help out Mario by sneaking 1-Ups like in Mario Galaxy. It irks me with how stuff like this is often ignored in order to pigeonhole her into the damsel role, when she is strong in her own right. She doesn’t always get captured, and more people could understand this if they stopped degrading her for Bowser and Daisy’s actions.

Speaking of Daisy, another criticism that I hear about her is, “ShE’s A bAd FrIeNd To DaIsY, aNd BeTrAyEd HeR fOr RoSaLiNa.” Jesus H. Christ, this one genuinely makes my blood boil. Daisy is another one of my favorite characters in the series that is special to me, and it makes me upset with how her and Peach’s friendship is often portrayed in the fandom. Like, show me proof. Show me factual evidence that Peach “betrayed” Daisy that isn’t from fanart, fanfiction, animations, or anything else fanmade. This is giving the same vibes as, “Mario is a bad/abusive brother to Luigi” rumor that MatPat popularized and I hate it sm. And while we’re at it, can we not throw Rosalina under the bus, she herself gets an unnecessary and unneeded amount of hate already :/

Peach and Daisy are canonically BFFLs, and I hate hate hate how they’re usually portrayed as enemies. I remember seeing so much fanart back in the day where Daisy is bullying, fighting, or being straight up toxic towards Peach. I do see Daisy playfully teasing Peach and being competitive, but being toxic? No, honey, no 😣

And now moving on to my next criticism which is, “ShE’s ToO sTuPiD aNd GiRlY”. Aah yes, the whole, “being hyper feminine/girly is bad” trope, oh how I have not missed you. First of all, Peach is not stupid. Naive? Yes. But she’s no dumb blonde, or airhead, or ditz, or bimbo, or whatever the hell type of pejorative, misogynistic, blonde stereotype-based word you wanna throw at her. She’s clever, and has been able to use her smarts to outwit her captors. And newsflash, there's absolutely nothing wrong with loving traditionally feminine things like baking cakes, or fashion, or liking the color pink. It kinda rubs me the wrong way with how people remove the feminine aspects about Peach and the other things that make her special in order to have her be taken seriously. They just end up making her a Daisy clone. You can be both girly and badass too, y’know!

And here’s my final criticism that I hear about her, “ShE’s A sPoIlEd, StUcK uP bRaT wHo DoEsN’t CaRe AbOuT mArIo”. Look, just because she’s filthy stinking rich, doesn’t mean she’s a spoiled brat. This is yet another thing I see her being portrayed in fanmade stuff; spoiled, bratty, entitled, and bitchy, and I’m just here like, “Did y’all mistake her for Wendy, or?”. Peach is one of the sweetest, empathetic, selfless, and most wholesome characters in the series, and would never act like that.

But nope, pink = girliness, and girliness = bad, so that means we gotta make her a complete Karen/s

I get alternative character interpretations exists, but I feel like people use that as an excuse to deliberately demonize and flanderize characters for the sake of it -_-

As for Mario, have you guys even played any of the games? She clearly does love and care about him and is grateful for what he’s done for her. She thanks him for helping her, giving him kisses, baking cakes for him, and inviting him to fun places. If she “didn’t care about him”, then she wouldn’t be doing all the above mentioned stuff for him. And something I also forgot to mention in my Y2K Peach post is how people assume she has Stockholm Syndrome- which she doesn’t. She clearly doesn’t like Bowser, wants nothing to do with him, and shows 0 romantic interest in him, so how could she have Stockholm Syndrome lmao

Phew, glad I got all of that off my chest. Stuff like this has been bugging me for so long, so I’m glad to finally let it all out. Now I’m gonna explain why I find Peach to be one of my favorite comfort characters.

Ever since I was a small tot, I’ve always admired Peach. She was pretty, pink, super girly and ruled a whole damn kingdom. While she isn’t always strong, there are still times where she’s able to put her foot down and stand up for her friends and herself. She puts her subjects' needs before her own needs, and is basically a gentle soul. She’s also a jack of all trades, she’s not just a baker, but also a golfer, tennis player, kart racer, equestrian, and so much more. She’s also able to be patient with others, and sees the good in even the wickedest of people.

I especially loved playing as her in the Smash Bros. games, I’ve been a Peach main ever since the Brawl days. Her inclusion in the series just shows me that, even if you love doing unapologetically feminine things like wearing dresses, painting your nails, shopping, or cooking, you still matter. You’re still capable and strong in your own way, and you can still save the day. Embrace who you are. To this day, I still find this to be an empowering message that not just young girls, but anyone can resonate with. This is why Peach has always been a special character to me <3

Apologies if I kinda went into, “I’m 14 and this is deep” territory, but that’s just what I truly feel about Peach. She’s no damsel in distress, or a pretty face, or a walking talking prize, she’s much much more than that. She’s one of the best characters, and deserves better not just in the games, but in the fandom as well.

I’m probably gonna get crucified and clowned on for this, but Idc, I spoke my truth 😤

Before I leave, if you still dislike Peach after reading this post, that’s perfectly fine, just make sure to keep the comments respectful and please don’t start any flame wars. Thank you 💕

Thank you all for reading my needlessly long and unhinged defense of one of my favorite Princess characters, and I hope you all have a good day or night, and make sure to stay safe out there ✌️

👑 🍑 👑

[minsimagines]

aftermath

pairing; pro hero!katsuki bakugou x f!reader

word count; 1,1k

warnings; mentions of sex, mentions of body parts, mentions of alcohol, enemies to lovers?, my bakugou is a bit of a douchebag but not so bad in this, 

+ my take on the characters and settings of mha is a little ooc on purpose, it’s almost a little au, but not completely. 

“this is awkward.”

you glance up, wide eyed as if you’d forgotten he was sitting opposite of you, suddenly afraid he could read your mind, or see the memories of the prior evening replay in your eyes. 

the bar sat right off campus, tucked below a dungy alley between otherwise pristine buildings, hidden from the unbidden like a thought unuttered. 

this underground hideout was a world in its own right, governed by the high and mighty pro heroes who were never as righteous as they appeared on television. the very ones you’d found so undesirable — and you’d been vocal about this fact straight to his face only to have that attitude thrown back at you tenfold.

now here you sit, in the dark of their den of sins, where you know newer, stranger and lewder scenes are unfolding behind every door. the drink is good, you’d give them that, but does it really matter when your mouth is dry just thinking of the obscenity you’d indulged in the very night before? and is this atmosphere really awkward as he says, when he was inside you only hours before this meeting? aren’t you beyond awkward now? you’d have reminded him of this fact, if only you weren’t so sensitive to the topic of no longer being pure. 

not pure of your virginity — that was lost a few years ago. this new impurity was something you had never foreseen.

and, well, you were being awkward.

how had you sunk so low, you wonder? where had your anger and your self respect gone? he was the enemy. metaphorically. you did not like him, he was pretentious and mean, and he had ripped the world from under you — sat you on a sinking ship with only his arms as a lifeboat. 

he’s watching you with intensity that tells you he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. he notices your nerves, of course he does. those eyes miss nothing. the small hint of a smirk lingers on the edge of his lips.

“i don’t think it’s weird,” you clear your throat, swallowing. “it’s just… different.”

it’s true. within you, where you’d once harbored a livid dislike for him, now sat only the disdain for the fact that your anger toward him had changed. you were angry, he had made you see him differently and that was infuriating, but it was not truly him you were angry with — the choice had been yours. 

“different,” he echoes, eyes narrowing slightly as though he finds that amusing. 

had it been just his wicked idea of sex; had it just been his way of exuding his kinks onto your clean mind then this would have been different. this situation would have even been okay, because you would have known for a fact you were just an outlet, and that felt somehow easier to accept than what had truly happened. 

it had gone from longing looks and sultry whispers that had your knees weak to something obscene and overwhelming, and then it had simmered back down to the soft and stomach fluttering. of all the things you could have imagined him wanting to do to you, you’d never even dared think he would be intimate. 

that was the thing that made you so uncomfortable. 

you couldn’t get it out of your head, it replayed over and over. his breath on your neck, the weight of his warm body around yours, his breathy laugh when you’d given into the pleasure and fallen apart in his arms, the praises he had whispered into your skin as he buried himself to the hilt in your pussy. tucking you against his body. falling asleep to his fingertips against your scalp. 

he’d promised you the stars, and to your immense animosity, he’d delivered. 

“too different?” he asks. the heat of his gaze drops to your tank top, but there is the hint of something else in those eyes. 

it makes you reach over the small table, fingers gripping the tattooed forearm that rests on the surface. his eyes drop to look at your smaller hand on his wrist, before he glances up at you. 

“i’m… tougher than i look,” you utter, braver than you really are. it lures out the smirk he usually bears around you, when he finds you particularly alluring. he knows you’re bluffing, knows you only say it because even if his kind of sex isn’t what you seek in a lover, you have an infatuation with him that he seems more aware of than you are. 

but you know that you may even be willing to compromise, because just as possessive as the look in his eyes is, you too have grown to feel some kind of bond with him. it is tentative, at best, but it’s there. 

he has slowly been tearing you apart, piece by piece, until every little thing about you was  bared to him, and you were ripe for the taking. 

he’s no good for you, but the way he slides his arm back just to wrap his hand around yours reminds you that no one will make you feel this way. it’s nothing special, you’ve held hands with boys before, but none of them had given you this spark of electricity shooting up the veins of your arms. 

your heart crept out of your chest and slipped down your limb, in between your intertwined hands, free for him to do with as he pleases.

you want to withdraw from him, as if it would take your heart back, but what’s given cannot be taken back. and after this corruption, you find you almost like the risk of your heart’s safety being in the hands of another. 

his tongue rolls over his lower lip. you watch it, flashes of memories of what that muscle can do running havoc through your mind. 

“you sure about that, pretty girl?” he raises a brow.  

the earth may as well have shattered beneath your seats, for the tremble that rushed through your body at his tone. 

“no,” you admit softly, because when it all comes down to it, shy or not, he knows when you’re lying. he pries the answers from you anyway. 

“last night was foreplay.” he leans back, glances away, runs his available hand down his face to attempt to hide his grin. 

you release his hand only to smack his forearm, lips pressed thinly together. he chuckles, and you go in to hit him again to make a point. 

he’s quick. takes a hold of your smaller wrist, tugging you toward him. the table is small, he’s right in front of your face now, and he’s loving the way your eyes widen, your lips parting, your cheeks reddening.  

“if i could kill you, i would,” you grumble breathily.

“if,” he murmurs fondly.

[redcloaklynx]

I think it's insane that the two things we know about Vellioth are so contradictory and that contradiction makes him so compelling. Ok I can't explain this concisely.

...there we go.

[THAT INITIAL COMPELLING CONTRADICTION]

So Vellioth's epithet was "the Martinet" - meaning he was strict and enforced discipline, and yeah that makes sense. We learn of two punishments that Cazador suffered through, and "seeing your friend drained dry because you reached out to them" is pretty standard for what I expect a vampire to do, while the second, "getting impaled for 11 years for executing a failed plan, I don't even care that you were trying to rebel" is, I assume, the harshest punishment Vellioth meted out (Vellioth only lived 72 years! That was at least 1/7th of Cazador's spawnhood!).

On the other hand he was madly laughing when Cazador killed him, when he was melted to his bones and his soul was made into ink and trapped in the palace - how do you reconcile this behaviour with that of a 'strict disciplinarian'? Especially one who got everything to go the way he planned, which included his own very painful death? I can totally accept that his personality was not the stereotype I originally assumed (emotionless militaristic sergeant); that he was plenty expressive, that's awesome and I'm far more interested in his character now actually, but the other part?

If he is a meticulous and successful planner, why did he dedicate his life's work, as an immortal vampire, towards making a successor that carries his legacy but hates him?

Because I do believe Vellioth got everything he wanted, unlike Cazador. So that we're on the same page, here's an entire section to explain why.

[WHY I THINK VELLIOTH SUCCEEDED AT WHATEVER THE HELL HE WAS TRYING TO DO]

Mainly, my reasons are that Vellioth laughed and willingly gave his blood in the rite where he died, that Cazador follows Vellioth's lessons to the letter, and that Vellioth's presence leaves the palace when he feels like it.

For reference, here are Vellioth's lessons:

First lesson: "always to dominate. Allow none to be your equal." The example provided is of Vellioth draining a friend of Cazador dry, after Cazador reached out to them

Second lesson: "power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak, and to be weak is to fail... and die." And the juicy part, where Cazador was impaled for 11 years, not because he rebelled, but because he failed at the attempt

Third lesson: "to act not in haste. A near immortal has time to plan, time to act only when others will pay the price of action." Then, when Vellioth deemed Cazador learned his lessons, letting him become a true vampire in a rite where they both laughed

Notice that Cazador follows these better than Vellioth: he doesn't allow any of his spawn to be his equal - to become a true vampire, he's lonely, and he reigns for longer.

Also, in the game, once the player learns these lessons, "Vellioth is no more." After haunting the palace for two centuries. What.

Like in the same room there's a scroll that reads "For my sins, my soul was made ink and written onto this parchment, where its scrawl crawls sleeplessly for eternity - unless you free it." which implies Vellioth was trapped by Cazador, but I don't see why Cazador would make the freeing mechanism "tell some high-wisdom stranger about my past as a slave." That part felt like Vellioth giving one last middle finger to Caz, and choosing to ditch before he witnesses his spawn fail and die to the player. Which means Vellioth had chosen to stay "trapped" in the painful/humiliating display Cazador mounted entirely willingly.

Cazador objectively seems like the more successful vampire, reaching the Ascension that is every vampires' wet dream, but he ends up unhappy (I'm referencing that Detect Thoughts on Cazador in his coffin that reveals he thinks of himself as a monster that will not end, and eternal unlife as a curse). Vellioth, meanwhile; all signs point towards him executing his plans flawlessly, and without regrets. I can only conclude, for some reason, that this is the future he wanted.

[CONCLUSION]

What I'm saying is that Vellioth got what he wanted, but what he wanted doesn't makes any sense. His priorities are out of whack.

Why? Certainly the easy answer, in my opinion, is that he went mad, possibly through Cazador's machinations (how else do you get a vampire lord to willingly give you his blood?). I don't have a better answer - I don't really care about that question, actually. Rather, in conclusion, can I invite you to consider my attempt to compile canon-compliant Vellioth traits?

-> Vellioth doesn't fear death. He doesn't want to live forever. He never liked the benefits of vampirism (never thought of it as a gift), 70 years of unlife was long enough for him, or did Donnella ruin it for him?

-> Vellioth is selfless? Humble? Cautious? According to Astarion, vampires are power-hungry creatures who see all other vampires as competitors. Vellioth doesn't try to make himself known, doesn't try for world domination (as far as we know), and the legacy he leaves is purely in Cazador's name. He is, for some reason, not vain or power-hungry, at least not for himself. (I do doubt that a vampire can be selfless or humble though.)

-> Maybe he sees Cazador's accomplishments as an extension of his own? His lessons sure don't prime Cazador to perpetuate the cycle; he doesn't expect Cazador to have a successor. Maybe he thought Cazador was more likely to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension, and stuck around to see it happen?

okay thanks for reading please don't be too mean if I said something stupid. and a disclaimer: i do not care if your vellioth is not canon compliant. i love reading vellioths that do not at all follow what i have in mind. i analyze canon for fun, i am not trying to police anybody

[cyndaquillt]

Image : A landscape painting of the Jungle Terai by William Hodges titled 'A View in the Jungle Terry', 1782 (Source)

Bhool Bhulaiya 3 is an interesting piece of media in the sense that it has many of my identities and interests but feels a little off in terms of repping them. In the spirit of fix-it-fics, I have an expansive BB3 alternate timeline AU where I can project my needs for historical and cultural accuracy of this story. Read my brief retelling of the events leading up to Manjulika's haunting in BB3 on the above link or under the cut! TW/CW : implied gender dysphoria, transphobia, major character death

This work uses he/him pronouns for Debu before she completely figures out her gender identity. I simply mean to use this as a writing tool and the intention isn't to misgender Debu. He/him pronouns for Debu may also pop up in cases where a character denies her gender identity in their pov.

The estate at Raktghat is haunted by Manjulika and a Raj Purohit of the old rajjo is the only one with the knowledge of how the haunting came to be. But does the oral tradition of the Raj Purohit's family remember who Manjulika really is? Does it know of the sin of its own people? Does it remember what Raktghat really was like before the rakt seeped into its grounds? Do the tales still speak of the time when Raktghat was Joybhum?

The year is 1805. A collection of several estates and fiefdoms in the Jungle Terai region go on to become the Jungle Mahals district under the British Raj. British presence in the area is nothing new but the renaming of the district brings more of their control into it rather than being a mere name change. And yet, some fiefdoms persist. Like the fiefdom of Joybhum, near modern day Purulia in West Bengal. The feudal lord of the fiefdom even manages to keep his title of a 'Rajah', fully acknowledged as a ruler of Joybhum by the British. And yet, he knows it's not all over yet. The white men loom like vultures on the horizon, scavengers ready to pick him apart as soon as his foot slips and they deem him dead. Sometime after the Jungle Mahal is created, a son is born to the Raja of Joybhum. A male heir! Sure, he has daughters already, both capable leaders. But the white men will find a weak link and take over if there's no male heir. His daughters may be of the 'right' lineage and skilled in ruling but he knows they wouldn't be enough to deal with the lurking scavengers. He is their protector, he is Joybhum's protector. And Joybhum will not be compromised. If the Raja has to make the servant's son its ruler to protect it, then so be it. He names his son Debendranath. Lord of the Debendra, King of the King of Gods. His Crown Prince. His Debu.

Debu is thrust into the etiquettes and responsibilities expected of a prince from an early age. The Raja sees Debu's birth as a good omen for the kingdom, harking in several blissful years of peace and prosperity. The Raja's control of Joybhum is firm and his wealth grows. He hosts lavish events, patronizing troupes from nearby regions as well as from poschim or the west, such as a Kathak troupe from Awadh and Odissi troupes from kingdoms just south of Joybhum. His daughters take a keen interest in these two art forms and he makes arrangements for exceptional gurus of the two disciplines to stay in Joybhum and teach his daughters. He doesn't mind that the nobility doesn't learn the dances of the tawaifs and devdasis. He is his daughter's provider, their Baba, and he will give them whatever they ask for. Manjulika learns Odissi and Anjulika learns Kathak and he is very proud of their talents.

However, there is another little child quietly looking from the sidelines and being mesmerized by the beauty of the dances, especially Kathak. Debu goes with Anju didi to her classes, never misses a single one! And dances along on the sidelines. Everyone in the class finds it cute! Even compliments Debu! He is encouraged to dance more and he likes when he's told he's doing it well! These are some of the best days of Debu's childhood. Until one day, when he is about 10 years old, the Raja decides to pay a visit to Anju's Kathak class. The Raja spots Debu and is furious. It is not befitting of a prince, the future crown prince, to dance away like that. What will people say? The sahebs will swoop in, just like they've done to several kingdoms at this point that haven't produced suitable 'heirs'. The white men are already on the Raja's neck for 'lavish spending of public money on the arts' and if they find out the crown prince — 'But Baba! Didi does it so why can't I!', wails the 10 year old and immediately gets a slap on the cheek. 'Tui ki tor Didi? Are you your sisters? Tui Raja hobi. Rajader moto thak. You will become a king. Behave like a king.' Well. Debu wishes he was his didi. Debu wishes he was never the son his baba pinned his hopes on and instead the daughter who learned whatever she wanted. A small fire of envy is born. Debu didn't choose this and he doesn't want to live the life of a prince. He would rather be someone else entirely.

And yet, he is shoved into a prince's life with full force. Debu is banned from visiting the classes and is instead being taught what princes are expected to know - horseriding, swordplay, politics. Debu's distaste towards his own princehood and even manhood intensifies. Why was he born a man? He wishes he were just born a woman. He would rather hold a jhumka in his hand than a sword. He would rather wear his poschimi angrakha and panjabi for twirling while dancing instead of when meeting foreign ambassadors on the arduous diplomacy trips his father takes him on.

Around the time Debu is 16, he starts to run away at night. People think he's going to brothels or has a fling, as rumours go about young princes. Little do they know that he goes to see Chhau performances with the locals of Joybhum, disguised as a teenage girl. He is enchanted by the dance itself and even more so by the men playing the roles of women in the dance-drama. He wants to be them. He wants to be the woman on the stage. She wants to be on stage. She realizes how she really sees herself. She is starting to figure out who she really wants to be. And it's not the crown prince of Joybhum.

The rumours of the young crown prince going to brothels spreads far and wide and reaches the Raja's ears. The Raja is infuriated. He is more of a Raja than a Baba these days anyway and his fury at the crown prince indulging in lecherous deeds knows no bounds. The Raj Purohit, the Raja's trusted advisor, convinces him to channel his anger constructively, and arrange Debu's marriage. Boys will be boys, and the only way to calm the boy down is giving him the role of a husband and a man. The royal Rajput family of Singhbhum has sent a marriage proposal for one of the princesses from their branch family. A marriage alliance would not only benefit the kingdom, but would also set Debu on the right track. And so Debu, at the age of 18, is married off to a princess she barely knows and doesn't love.

She continues to leave at night, and is quickly found out by her wife. They start to chat. Honestly and frankly. And Debu has her first friend she can be open with. Her wife even lets her try out her ornaments! She watches her dance, she listens to Debu talk about dance styles and techniques and even lets Debu teach her a few steps!

Debu does stop leaving the palace and the rumours die down, making people think that the marriage really did contain the young prince after all. But the Raja wants an heir. The Raja declares Debu as the official crown prince of the fiefdom in court to pressure Debu and her wife into their roles as the future monarchs. So that they start thinking of an heir of their own. And then the storm really arrives. Debu's wife has to go to her baaperbari in Singhbhum shortly after. There was a forest fire and one of her close relatives was caught up in it. Meanwhile in Joybhum, Anjulika and Manjulika, upset at Debu's being officially given the title of the crown prince, plot to kill her. This is when they find out that Debu still loves Kathak. Debu still dances even! A part of their hearts is elated! Their little baby br— no, sister— is still the same cute child who would dance in the corner during Anju's classes! But they are their father's daughters and they are princesses. They know why the Raja pins his hopes on Debu and they know his fear of Joybhum being annexed. They know they can't be the perfect male heir that the sahebs have fed into the Raja's mind as the ideal for a ruler. But they are fighters. Debu, however? She is no fighter, never was. Maybe, just maybe, they can get their father to see who she really is. What's the worst that could happen? At most Debu would be exiled and once the sisters work their way up to the throne, they'll bring Debu back! So they plan a show for their Baba. Debu is delighted when the princesses ask her to perform for them. Alas, she doesn't know that she's going to have an audience of more than just the two of them.

Her sisters betray her. The Raja walks in, just like he had when Debu was 10 and dancing in the corner. He looks furious, just like he did back then. And there's something else, something more. A look of resignation? Disappointment? ...surrender?

There was someone else who had ratted Debu out to the Raja before the sisters.

The Raj Purohit has had Debu figured out for quite some time now. He knew the rumours of the crown prince going to brothels was false. He really tried to fix the situation by proposing the marriage and hoping it would really dissuade Debu and save the kingdom. And yet, Debu kept at it. Somehow things got worse, what with that Singhbum girl enabling this behaviour further. So he bribed some village folk to stage a fire near her ancestral property. A member of the royalty getting caught in it wasn't in the plan, but it did make sure she's away for at least 13 days. In the meantime, the Raj Purohit goes to the British and outs Debu. No one had been more successful in coercing the Raja to tighten Debu in his responsibilities than those sahebs after all. Things were all going to plan. He wasn't there when the dialogue between the Raja and the British happened and doesn't know that instead of getting the Raja to put pressure on Debu, they got him to sign off Joybhum's sovereignty to them. It was either that and keeping the estate, or foregoing everything including the property. And the Raja chose property. He can no longer be the protector of Joybhum or his children. But at least he can save his estate.

There are not going to be any real Rajas in Joybhum anymore. A branch family would likely inherit the property and the British would take over its governance. All titles would be fake, without meaning. Hollow and empty. And it was Debu who ruined it.

Debu is not needed anymore.

Debu can just burn to ashes. Anju and Manju can just go away.

And finally, when everyone is gone, and when Joybhum burns and bleeds, the Raja can take his last breath.

Joybhum was one of the earliest fiefdoms in the Jungle Mahal district to completely fall apart. The crown prince’s death triggered a chain reaction and neighbouring estates all started falling apart like dominos. Joybhum vanished. The Jungle Mahals vanished.

The locals claim they saw blood coming out of the palace's doors and flowing out into the nearby Kangsabati river for years after the fall of the fiefdom. The palace was shedding tears of blood. Joybhum was doomed for good and Raktghat was born.