#I love you flaws I love you enemies I love you adversaries I love you dark secrets I love you 1 dot flaws that can ruin you easily | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

swallow-the-bird · 1 year ago

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Do you have any favorite Harry Potter ships?

Well, besides my all-time favorite Grindeldore, I’m actually quite eclectic in my tastes! 🤣

Snarry, Snamione, Snily, Jily, Hedric, Dnarry, Sirry… I’ve read fanfictions about all of them, and I’ve enjoyed them. Perhaps it’s because the Harry Potter fandom has so many talented writers. As long as the story is captivating, I’m thrilled to read it!

There’s another pairing that I initially thought was improbable, but later became infatuated with—

Harrymort/Tomarry!!

***** ‼️ LONG post alert ‼️ Oh, whenever I get to a topic that excites me, I always end up being such a chatterbox🤣Please also be aware of what I say below is only my VERY SUBJECTIVE opinions ‼️ *****

While Harrymort/Tomarry seem to have a lover-enemy dynamic similar to Grindeldore, the premise for each is vastly different. Gellert and Albus once passionately loved each other in their youth, while Tom/Voldemort and Harry share deep animosity and are destined adversaries. How could they possibly be together? Moreover, I once believed that Tom Riddle was an emotionless monster. (But I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense!)

While Gellert might be categorized as a sociopath, capable of true loyalty and emotions towards a select few - Albus Dumbledore- and taking a lifetime to learn how to love, he at least has the capacity to love. This is evident when he ultimately understands the true meaning of remorse and willingly sacrifices his life to protect another’s grave.

But what about Tom?

In my eyes, Tom is a complete psychopath. Perhaps his traumatic childhood twisted his moral compass, but some characteristics seem innate and psychological. Tom’s emotional blunting seems more pronounced. He inherently lacks empathy and remorse. Even if he can comprehend others’ emotions and manipulate them, he doesn’t genuinely understand or empathize with them, which is why he can’t grasp the concept of remorse. Hence, he chose to become Voldemort. This made me question:

How can such a person love? He doesn’t even understand what love is.

This mirrors Gellert’s scathing taunt to Voldemort, “…there is so much you do not understand—!”

Yes, Tom Riddle—Voldemort— does not, and cannot understand love. But can he?

Some of my favorite authors have remarked:

“Yes, Tom Riddle—Voldemort— does not understand love, and he may never be able to. But just because you don’t understand something, does that mean you can’t have it?”

Harry is like a reflection of Tom Riddle. While Tom Riddle, in his hatred and fear, denied love and chose to become Voldemort, Harry, despite facing the same hatred and fear, came to understand what courage meant and chose love.

“Just by letting Harry see even the tiniest hint of Voldemort’s humanity, he will bravely embrace that one-in-a-million hope.”— Oh yes, hope. This is how many Tomarry/Harrmort fictions begin their stories.

Harry might harbor hatred for Voldemort for a lifetime, but the essence of forgiveness isn’t the absence of hate; it’s about learning to move on. If there’s anyone willing to embrace a shattered soul with such heinous crimes, it would be Harry Potter. Just as he has embraced death with the same courage, it’s this Harry who, when confronting his lifelong nemesis, still chooses “Expelliarmus”.

This love-hate story is inevitably not just about the hopes and courage of love, but also about its pain and despair. It makes us question the nature of love, hate, life, death, and humanity.

Harry understands love, so he believes in humanity, which gives him hope and courage, especially when mired in human flaws and tragedies.

“You see the world in such a unique way; I believe even despair seems colorful to someone like you.”—this is a line from one of my favorite Harrmort stories, “One thing he will never know”. In it, Harry chooses to cling to that sliver of hope in Voldemort and falls hopelessly in love with him. When Harry grapples with guilt, Dumbledore leaves him with this wisdom.

"It may seem terribly wrong, but if I may venture a guess, it must also feel so right," were Dumbledore's last words to the boy, "Harry, I don't think there is any shame in love. You must never doubt that when someone has been loved like this, it always leaves a mark, and that it will eventually change everything. You are much braver than I ever was.”

Thanks to these brilliant fanfictions, I’ve come to believe in the heart Voldemort thought he never had. Even if it’s fractured, it still exists, and a sliver of humanity remains. Perhaps we all need a broad perspective to see the world:

Not understanding love doesn’t mean you can’t have it.

I just realized I wrote so much! Maybe it’s because I’ve never shared my love for Tomarry/Harrmort with anyone after Grindeldore. Here’s my chance!

PS One of my favorite fanfictions, “One thing he will never know,” is written by a talented Taiwanese author in Chinese.If you’re interested, you can check it out here:

(* I've taken the liberty of translating some of the lines that impressed me most into English, as I wrote above.)

I also have read many excellent Tomarry/Harrmort stories from the English fandom. If you have any recommendations, please share them with me!

#harry potter #grindeldore #albus dumbledore #gellert grindelwald #tomarry #Harrmort #this is love and what love can be #my very subjective opinion again #voldemort #tom riddle

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findingtarshish · 1 year ago

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The enemy and adversary backgrounds in v5 occupy such an interesting space, because they're one of the most "solvable" flaws but also have the capacity to get so much worse. Got a 1 dot enemy that you never dealt with? while you weren't looking, they became a mage. Got a 1 dot adversary? you didn't counter their schemes in time and now they've overthrown the prince. They're a 3 dot now. I love how dynamic they feel

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #v5 #vtm v5

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flamurai · 2 months ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. those shadow casted fingertips curled at misshapen flesh, wishing to garner its warmth and most of all the strength found just below the surface. still, there lingered something else. a yearning unplaced, stirring in beastial veins. they felt connected, tendons intertwined and constructed into an abomination. akaza cradled his heart, in the palm of his hand. there would be no retaliation should it be torn from chest and devoured with ravenous hunger. is that not what the creature craved ? much was uncertain now, capturing a spark behind sigil borne eyes. they were frightening, but alluring all the same. strange, it could have brought tears to his remaining eye being acknowledged by your supposed adversary. shinjuro, the man adored as 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 couldn't even look at him. a human, one that knew love and adoration despite all his misdeeds, was contested by a demon's celebration. you should have died with your dignity !

words were always dishonest, however the actions which followed deemed them sincere. his touch gave way to an exhale, expression painted with 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 for their soon to be departure and benign utterances. hashira were always praised, many saw them as impervious beings. that couldn't be further from the truth. their gradual decline and dwindling numbers were an ordained prophecy. the pillar was no exception. such like cattle to an eventual slaughter, grazing fields and called upon when bountiful. his own sacrifice was in 𝐕𝐀𝐈𝐍 , the collateral damage stood before him now. its features softened, speaking with endearment. muzan would tear them both asunder, perhaps make one another watch as limbs severed and bones shattered. the mere thought caused fingers to furl, clenching around the other's hand.

head would shake ever so gently, gaze withering to a close as brows pinch together. little flame , why did that bring him immense sorrow ? better yet, why was it humored for this long without argument. lavender cascades the sky above them, light not quite peering through dawning fog. let him go, he must leave before it's too late. ❛ i promise you ... as i live and breathe, it will never go out. ❞ you can always find it, even in your darkest hour. glistening orb, 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 as the blazing sun, would seek his eyes once again. voice hastened, distance closing just an inch more as though it were a secret bestowed unto only him. ❛ in a month's time, there will be a festival. a farewell to our summer season the fireworks are at their most beautiful. ❞ slowly, appendages begin to relent. loosening from him, ❛ though i'm certain you've seen them many times before, i intend to watch them from here. ❞ tread lightly, this was an invitation on the rise.

it would be exact, however an undisclosed date set. keeping senses open would be crucial. but it must be this way, they were never meant for this. humans and demons were not known to coexist, they were foolish to even consider it. no, kyojuro was foolish. ties are separated in that moment, retrieving what remained of his blade and holding it close despite jagged edges. much like their predicament, holding enemies closest no matter the danger. a 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 prevails upon his lips, though it possessed nothing short of discouragement. they were wrong, made with flaws and pitiful desires. nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself from making these mistakes. soles withdraw upon grasslands glossed with morning dew, shoulders nearly grazing as words whisper across from his ear. ❛ until then ... keep your distance. ❞ for both their sake, remaining at bay was for the best. listen for the fireworks overhead, i'll be right here.

no last glance is spared, it couldn't be afforded to them. once light on feet, now resides a haggard pace to extend as much distance from him as possible, vision blurring at the corners as exertion burned through his muscles. rengoku rivaled those 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐓 and agile on the battleground, and though not the sharpest, he would hurtle through the shadowed cavern of forest flora. sun rays piece through overgrown trees, thickened with leaves and awakened wildlife greeting the brink of dawn. movement halted upon arrival, fingers dipping into his chest, teeth gritting against agony brimming from his wound. something warm coated nails, the scent causing expression to twist blood, reopened flesh. they would question him. but that demon would remain undisclosed, identity unspoken, their words exchanged in confidence. stay away, akaza.

until now ... the farewell to summer's temperament. dusk enveloped the mountain ranges, remaining light beginning to fade behind their mass. days merged, began to lose meaning as mind withered away on the entity : spurring memories, obsessively contemplating and replaying their time spent together that night. that creature whom unsettled nerves, and sunk proverbial teeth into reluctant skin. pearly incisors that peeked from his mouth when speaking. there is something mystifying about them, it causes nose to scrunch in 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 repulsion. arms fold over chest, back pressing against brittle bark as a dual-toned gaze searched the skies. very soon, there will be an embellished horizon. muttered disquiet that resembles his 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 leaves curved lips, a saddened smile when a firework catches flight and echoed from above. a pang within his heart, a furnace neglected and dwindling to the softest flicker. why did this afflict him ? there should be relief in that they would never meet again, but still something aches with anticipation for him.

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 whether they lie to themselves about it or not. it is intoxicating in its own right, draws you in and makes you swallow the poison with eager lips that sought it out. but it comes with a price, one that is too much to pay if you ask him –– because there is something in him, something hidden down that screams like a siren that all of this is wrong. it yells out from the depths that this is not who he is, that there is something that was taken from him. that there has to be a reason for his aversion to women and children, that there is a reason to his refusal to indulge the other moons in their journeys. 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌! can kyojuro not see this with his own eyes? can his multi-hued gaze not gaze upon him and realize that he is not the demons that he has slain before? it is more than the sun that ails him –– it is a conscious, a beating heart that screams out for someone to save it.

there is also a part of him that wants nothing more than to SAVE RENGOKU. to pull him in and swaddle him in the power that cascades, that promises. because while it is the lie that all seek out, he knows that it can aid. it can mend. he will never have to worry about not being enough again. he can just worry about himself. he wonders if underneath that flame that beats and lashes out, if he is nothing more than a sacred boy who hasn't been promised to his family in good faith. if he is a broken child, a broken childhood; he vaguely remembers the flame hashira before him. the multi-colored hair and eyes, but he did not have that INFERNO BLAZE that kyojuro turns on him now. no, he is better. he is something more.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓. it was unfortunate that he had stepped in, had found his way between him and the damn weakling with the earrings. he had been dispatched for a REASON and you do not say no to your master. his body still aches from the black ichor that he had spit upon the ground, the RESONANCE of upsetting lord muzan. but his fingers press against skin that burns, that blazes, that attempts to purify him. there is ANGER born in that gaze; that speaks of how he has broken him, how he has shattered what had been HIS. and there is regret in akaza's being, no matter how much he attempts to pretend there is not. HE FEELS MORE THAN THE OTHER MOONS. he is human in ways that shouldn't be accessible to him any longer. but he feels the pounding of a heart and is pulled in, hypnotized by the beat of it, of the inferno that rages on.

it feels like a fever that races across his skin. he swallows, feels the pressure of it in his throat, then slips golden eyes up to observe through pink lashes. there's a pounding in his head, in his heart, that attempts to sync up with kyojuro's no matter what his head says. the one that warns him to go home, to avert himself away from the temptation of a human, a hashira of all things. but he closes his eyes for a long moment, twists his own breath into his lungs. ❝ it is not a matter of sharing. it is a matter of safety. surely even you wouldn't want to be lord muzan's pawn. ❞ HE HASN'T WANTED TO BE ONE IN SO LONG. it burns like fire in his lungs, in his heart, in what's left of his blackened soul. fingers press tightly against a chest for a long moment, feel the steady inferno there, before he bites down the inhibitions that have kept him steady for so long. ❝ go, little flame. far from here before they realize that you have lived, that you are stronger than one of their highest ranking. ❞ what would become of him if muzan were to find out? he feels the phantom ache in his skin again, the pulsing of lord muzan's blood that is always turned into a weapon when he wants them to obey. a careful touch, the tracing of blackened tips against the very spark that could harm. ❝ and do not let this go out. ❞

#if you see typos or ANYTHING. no you didn't hol.#˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ´ˎ˗ THREADS.#chaoslulled

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unhealthyfanobsession · 4 years ago

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I teased this in a previous post and people asked me to expand so...here’s my controversial take that Rhysand and Nesta are actually parallel characters in many ways and that they both hate each other so much because they ultimately hate themselves.

Alright ladies and gentleman, anti’s and stans, buckle your fucking seatbelts or hope off the roller coaster here because I’m about to learn you a thing or two about the most divisive characters in the ACOTAR world.

Starting out very broadly- both characters are introduced as sort of confusing villains (Rhys is “evil” but he’s also helping Feyre. Nesta is an “awful sister”, but she also is protective of Elain and tells Feyre essentially to go and be happy), both have faced significant trauma and grapple with self-loathing and feelings of not being good enough, and both ultimately find redemption and healing with their mates who love them. They also both currently exist in a strange parallel coming out of ACOSF where Rhys is supposedly “chosen by the Cauldron” and Nesta is “blessed by the Mother”- the two sacred entities of Prythian.

Intrigued? More specifics and text analysis under the cut

Mommy (and Daddy) Issues:

Both characters were basically raised by their mother’s alone and then lost them at a young age and that had a deep impact on them. Rhysand had a far more positive experience of being raised by his mother HOWEVER I would argue that it was still “grooming” of a type since she took him away to train in Illyria specifically so that he wouldn’t be influenced by his father.

Rhys’ mother did this out of love and Nesta’s mother groomed her out of a social climbing agenda, but it had the same effect- they both lost the parent who was their primary caregiver at a young age and they were both not close with their father’s because of their mother’s actions (again this was a good thing for Rhys, not as much for Nesta).

Parents Death: Rhys and Nesta both blame themselves for one of their parent’s death and are deeply affected by feeling like they failed someone important to them.

Rhys thinks that he is responsible for his mother and sister’s death because he gave Tamlin info

Rhys even says after this “It should have been me.”

Nesta feels that she was unable to save her father and she hates herself for it.

Rocky sibling relationship and Separation:

Rhysand and Cassian are obviously a lot further along in their sibling journey, but it’s stated that he and Cassian HATED each other and fought constantly essentially until Azriel arrived and then they decided to be “allies”.

Nesta and Feyre are also at each others throats but seem to put their differences aside in order to not upset Elain. (Even when Feyre first goes back to the human lands Nesta says NOPE NO FAE! But as soon as Elain asks her to do as Feyre says she agrees) and then Nesta states in ACOSF that she and Feyre were brought together by Elain to be allies in the war.

Rhysand and Cassian obviously grew into true brothers despite their adversarial, insulting, bitter beginning... and Nesta and Feyre after ACOSF have done the same. Obviously there’s still a lot of work to be done in that relationship, but the parallel stands (and is just strengthened by the fact that in both cases it’s the character with more power in the relationship- Nesta for being the oldest and Rhys for being the one whose family took Cassian in is then mated to the opposite sibling!)

Both have a parent who essentially separated them from their ‘siblings’ for their own benefit. Nesta’s mom isolated her as a child so that she could groom her and tell her how to maneuver her sisters when the time was right while Rhys’ father- afraid of his, Cassian, and Azriel’s combined power- separated them for 7 years through the first war to ensure they wouldn’t ally against him. Nesta was also separated from Feyre by Tamlin and tried to go to the wall to get her back but couldn’t get through- which is very reminiscent to me of the scene at the beginning of ACOWAR from the first war where Rhys is searching desperately but without hope for Cassian.

Shared Trauma and Learning to be “Evil” to protect their family:

both characters are sexual assault survivors who spend a chunk of their book (I’m counting ACOMAF as essentially Rhys’ book since that’s when we learn more about him as a character) grappling with that, coming to terms with it, and moving forward with a general attitude of “Never Again.” I would also argue that even their abusers are parallels as Rhysand was only ‘with’ Amarantha because he was trying to protect his family and Nesta was only ‘with’ Tomas because she thought his family might be able to take in and feed Elain (she says in ACOSF that she would give him whatever he wanted- her body meant nothing to her and Elain meant everything, which is essentially Rhys’ UTM mindset). In addition, both characters are able to escape their abusers out of love for Feyre. Rhys does so when Amarantha is about to kill Feyre, and Nesta does so because she realizes that Tomas would never go to the wall with her to save Feyre.

Beyond this, both characters express that it is the lack of control over their own lives that truly haunts them. Rhys when he felt like he had no choice but to be Amarantha’s puppet and Nesta with a lot of her life, but especially when she is forced into the cauldron. Both of these are things that make them feel like failures for not protecting others. Rhys is haunted that he couldn’t protect Feyre under the mountain and Nesta is haunted that she couldn’t protect Elain from the cauldron.

This leads both characters to have a terrifying power-surge nightmare brought on by their trauma (Rhys from Amarantha; Nesta from the Cauldron) that terrifies those around them and can only be stopped by their mate.

In addition to this, they both have a “persona” that they put on and sometimes feel like they can’t shake off, a face that they made to protect themselves and their family. Rhys with his “Court of Nightmares” persona that he uses UTM, in the Hewn City, and with the other High Lords until the war. Part of his growth is letting people see beyond that ‘most powerful high lord of darkness’ mask.

For Nesta this is expressed by her “wolves” that she uses to put up a wall between her and the people who mocked her and her family, and especially Elain. And her learning to open up with Cassian and her found family was really important for her growth

HOWEVER, they both also keep that persona. Rhys has his mask polished for when anyone might threaten the people he loves and so does Nesta. Neither of them truly gave up that side of themselves, the darkness, they simply learned to stop it from consuming them.

They also both LIKE doing this to their enemies. Rhys likes to toy with his enemies and torture those who would harm his family or betray him and so does Nesta- she revels in cutting down anyone who insults Elain and says in ACOSF that she’s felt the urge to do the same for Cassian. They both wield words like weapons and use their intelligence to ensure they are always one quip ahead of their enemies. Something that both Feyre and Cassian admire in their mates and try to emulate to a degree.

(Bonus points for the fact that in both cases their families did not ASK to be protected/sacrificed for.)

Found family and sacrifice:

Rhys calls Cassian and Azriel his “brothers” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Nesta calls Emerie and Gwyn her “sisters” after becoming close while training and they conquer the blood rite together. Rhys sacrifices himself to Amarantha in order to protect Cassian and Azriel (and Velaris). Nesta sacrifices herself to hold the path of Enalius to protect Emerie and Gwyn. There’s also a line in ACOMAF and a parallel line in ACOSF essentially about Nesta being willing to do anything- including “whore” herself- to protect Elain, and in order to protect his brother’s that’s exactly what Rhys did- “whore” himself to Amarantha.

Both are ‘saved by’ and feel not good enough for their mate:

I hesitate to use the word “saved by” because ultimately both characters have more agency than that, HOWEVER, both characters rely on their mate to a degree to pull them out of a very dark time and place. Feyre helps Rhys remember who he is and forgive himself for under the mountain and he even specifically calls her his “salvation.”

I don’t think I need to even say the Nesta part here, all of ACOSF is essentially Cassian helping Nesta climb out of a dark period so that they can heal together.

(Both also start connecting with their mates on a “just sex” situation.)

Both characters think that because of the things they’ve done and the darkness inside of them that they don’t deserve the people they have been mated to.

Obviously there are many differences, but the characters are similar in a lot of ways and what I think this really highlights is just how true that line is in ACOSF about Nesta being a wolf that was never allowed to learn how to be a wolf. Meanwhile Rhys is 500 years older and has always had power and agency of some kind even at his lowest point. Nesta didn’t have that power and wasn’t allowed to really unleash herself so she armed herself with a steel exterior to make up for that lack of power and control. Which is very similar to what Rhysand did when he felt he didn’t have power under the mountain- put on a cold face, not let anyone in, and act cruel in order to get through it.

Overall it’s an interesting character study because in a lot of ways these are very similar characters, but there is such a MASSIVE divide among the fandom of liking and hating one or both of them. Ultimately, I do think that a lot of the hate Nesta gets is because she’s a woman and female characters simply aren’t allowed to have the same flaws as male ones- which is kind of Nesta’s whole life story. BUT I think that Rhysand actually gets unintentionally screwed over by the narrative in one big way. Becuase my final paralell is that I think a lot of people came around on Nesta when they saw in her perspective that she knows she has problems and how much she was struggling… and I also think that Rhysand is so hated by those who dislike him because of Feyre’s ‘he can do no wrong’ perspective. I think if we saw more of Rhysand internally struggling and knowing that he made the wrong call sometimes and second guessing himself he’d be a lot more likeable character. We know he’s capable of this because when Cassian calls him out on the training roof for always thinking the worst of Nesta he just says “you’re right. I’m sorry” and he even *kinda* admits some wrong when he’s so shocked by how deep Nesta’s trauma is. Feyre and the rest of the IC constantly exalting Rhys as perfect when he so clearly isn’t and in fact has a lot of the same “flaws” as Nesta is probably the most frustrating thing about the character, which ultimately I think is kind of unfair because we know from his few perspectives that he doesn’t see himself that way.

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starboundanon · 3 years ago

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I am so excited to see you are doing asks and may do headcannons :D that is something I for sure look forward to if you start it! Love your work so, so much so hearing prompts and headcannons make me so happy! I dunno what to ask lol...i guess do you have general Dark!Din headcannons??

Ahhh my beloved Owl, I am humbled to have you in my inbox. ♥ This has nothing to do with anything but I want you to know I have read your most recent Hope update probably a total of six times. It was so good it fried my brain. I am in awe of you, as always.

Now, general dark!Din, you ask?? Well, it seems fitting that this should be my first official headcanon request, so let's see here.

TW: darkfic

I don't think Din is intentionally cruel, even when he's dark. I think the fucked up things he does serve their own purpose, and he can justify them in his mind — for example, when there's a power imbalance between him and Luke and he holds it over Luke's head — I think he would only do that because, in his mind, keeping Luke "in his place" and respecting his authority is the only way to keep him safe, so he can justify being kind of shitty (like in Starbound). What I mean is, even when dark!Din is at his most evil, it's not coming from a place of wanting to inflict pain on Luke — it comes from a very flawed, unhealthy, messed up place of love, because Din just isn't the type of character to treat his loved ones the same way he treats his enemies.

Din can be dark and still be an absolute fuckin' service top, folks. The pleasure he heaps on Luke may be forced but do you think he's worried about his own orgasm?? No sirree, he is 100% dedicated to making Luke feel good... regardless of what Luke wants. I think he would get a pretty big rush from knowing he could pleasure his lover so well, and that it would, in some ways, be about holding that kind of power over another person — he loves reducing Luke to a crying, hypersensitive, writhing mess, loves basking in the knowledge that he and he alone holds that kind of power over the little Jedi. I think that moment would be better than orgasming, for him. Just taking his time to take Luke apart piece by piece until he's a broken pleading mess, before Din's even taken his own pants off.

I think Din, even as possessive as he can be, would feel quite a bit of guilt over separating Luke from his friends and family........ right up until he meets Anakin/Vader. As soon as he learns who Luke's father is and what he's done, he switches on a dime, and goes from, "I'm sorry baby, I am, maybe we can arrange for them to come visit you for Life Day or something?" to "If anyone so much as mentions your name in my air space I will shoot them out of the sky without hesitation. I will not risk that man ever stepping within sight of you, cyar'ika." It's less about owning Luke and more about completely distrusting everyone the boy has ever met, especially his family. He doesn't try to stop Luke from having friends on Mandalore/Tatooine/wherever they are; he just has to approve of them, first............ sadly, he has very high standards, lmao.

Some honorable mentions:

If Luke is being disobedient and won't eat when he's told to, Din hefts him onto his lap and feeds him by hand.

He fully believes he has the right to punish Luke when he "acts out," which more often than not includes edging him for hours until Luke's brain is mush. Once, after a very close escape attempt, Din set aside the whole day to touching Luke without giving him release — constant, unending stimulation that he forced upon him mercilessly — until Luke was so desperate to come, he damn near made a Force Vow that he would never try to escape again, if only Din gave him mercy.

Din enjoys cradling Luke in his lap, and isn't above baiting Anakin/Vader into an ambush by sending him Holos of his son dressed in something very pretty and sitting on his lap like a Hutt slave, probably even feeling him up over the garment just to enrage his adversary as much as possible.

#dinluke #herbie asks #tw darkfic

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greywayfarer · 2 years ago

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Damn Finn hope *REDACTED* was worth it, bc your whole family line about to be erased 😳

I just want to say it’s been a LONG time since I’ve loved a fic as much as In the Blood. I just adore it, when I stumbled upon it I read it all in one night, it lives in my brain now and it’s tearing shit up. I’ve never talked to anyone on Tumblr before: That’s how much I love your writing! This fic has my absolute favorite dynamic between characters: two people who are completely different from one another while being perfectly complimentary to one another while being locked into rigid roles that provide narrative (and sometimes sexual) tension.

Secondly: is there a way to anonymize my username? I’ve never done an ask on tumblr, I couldn’t figure it out

Also it pains me to admit it bc Seneca is my favorite, but I’m starting to think that he has a couple quirks that may have prevented him from ever winning the succession even if Ephram *hadnt* ever come home.

As for this latest fight…Seneca, come on man.

Seneca is powerful and cunning when he respects his enemy going into battle (Conrad, the non-Finn assassins) AND if people he truly loves aren’t involved (Ryden, Ephram, even his father). Seneca is careless and/or complacent if he thinks his adversary is beneath him in power or strength of will (Isen, Finn, tbh imo in that last spar with Ephram) OR when he’s distraught (Isen killing Ryder, having to fight Ephram after even partially admitting his feelings to himself, Lara being injured w a side of ephram/phoebe). Despite all his native talents, his diplomatic skill and his level of training, these make for surprisingly bad odds for him when things get real. Who times out to taunt the dying guy when there’s still an ex with a baseball wandering around omg??—but Seneca had taken Finns measure and had contempt for him, so…a big who care on the ⚠️ level I guess. It sure looked like my man even ignored some pretty heavy warning signs of a set-up from Merrin bc he was sure he and Ephram had him too cowed to betray them

My fan theory: despite how well he hides it behind a mask of stoicism and gentility, one of Seneca’s biggest weaknesses is his pride, both in his (former) station and in his personal abilities, and he has trouble forgetting that the safety that is afforded a pre-succession prince is gone from his life forever. But perhaps unluckily for the court, with that second (omg) traumatic brain injury in a couple months seems like Nasria is about to find out what Ephram’s like when the royal emotion smoother over-er is out of commission for a bit ???

I guess these aren’t questions, more like appreciative rambles…anyway, thanks for writing this piece. It’s incredible.

Awww thank you flowerpaugee, I'm so stoked that you liked my story. Admittedly, I wasn't sure how both In the name of the King and In the blood would be received considering the taboo nature of both the relationships and, you know, the fratricide. But I'm so happy many of you have given it a chance!

As to your fan theory, couldn't agree more. Seneca's biggest flaw is his pride, and while we talk a lot about Ephram's impulsiveness and having no idea what 'rules' generally are, Seneca has his own version of impulsiveness that could lead to his destruction (and those around him). He does not handle his emotions well, despite having a sort of icy Prince mask he uses in politics, and that makes him do stupid things that he will have to control if he and Ephram are going to be any sort of successful King and Consort.

Maybe Ephram could be the balance to that for Seneca. His fixation of Seneca would make that known and he could steer Seneca in a more level headed state.

Seneca will certainly need it in terms of Ephram's own problems with his future rule!

#asks #In the blood

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rosheendubh · 3 years ago

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WIP...art-manipulation as visual inspiration for The Elegy of Dead Kingdoms...(crossover of StarWars/revamped Thrawn trilogy, FireFly/Serenity, and the Keltiad...also, spoof SpaceOpera-RockOpera featuring anyone from David Bowie, to LED Zepplin, NewOrder, U2, Ah-Ha...etc)...

~Background

~ At the impetus of River Tam, and the Operative, the Serenity’s renegade crew defies transit laws prohibiting unauthorized access to the wormhole connecting Terran space with the quadrant of the Republic Alliance and the Galactic Empire. Having only a fragmented record mentioning a lone survivor from a planetary massacre, the crew track rumors of a psionically gifted orphan said to have come from the Terran Fringe system of New Celtica, possessing the ability of manipulating the molecular structure of organic matter. An exile once in the service of Palpatine, whose skill of biokinesis Thrawn covets to stabilize the unpredictable violence of his cloned hybrids. A woman with adversaries on both sides of the wormhole, winning a Jedi to her cause, and determined to discover the key to a secret kept hidden for a thousand years. A buried legend of Old Terra, Earth That Was, that may be the last defense between the ancient darkness wakened by Thrawn‘s pursuit of absolute dominion, and the destruction of all life throughout the galaxy...(queue *cinematic drama music*)...

Somewhere between the battle of the Dark Force fleet, and Wayland, MonMontha offers a last ditch effort at negotiation with Thrawn. Imperial forces victorious in recent campaigns, have pushed back the RepublicAlliance to their InnerPlanetary systems. Rogue genetic scientists from the Terran quadrant, refusing to abandon their research after the PAX Hydrochlorate failure on Miranda, found a ready market amid trans-conduit Imperial war-profiteers, for their newest discovery. An archaic protogenome derived from dark-matter structures, endowing hybridized Reaver clones with real-time tissue regenerative capacity. These clones now render Thrawn’s army nearly indestructible. The scene above is merely my toying with a concept of the ethereal, and formidable River Tam crossing paths with the illustrious brilliance embodied in the GrandAdmiral Thrawn...

~scene~

On Coruscant, during Monmontha’s attempt at negotiating a peace, Rhyanon ferch Garowen (alluded to above) blatantly rejects Thrawn‘s coercive effort at bringing her to his side during a dinner banquet. B/c of this act of arrogance, Thrawn vows no mercy in the progression of his campaign, conquering and converting sector upon sector into a dark matter/anti-matter morass which becomes dubbed The Dimensional Rift, despite the valiant efforts of the Republic Alliance squadrons, directed by LukeSkywalker, and allies, to fend off the onslaught of Thrawn’s Dreadnaught fleet.

Before all that though, with the evening following the dinner still at hand, Thrawn abides by the Old Republic etiquette of host and guest, honoring civil diplomacy amongst enemies. A requisite social diversion-music or a dance-ensuing in the Palace reception hall holds no interest to him in Rhyanon’s absence. Preferring solitude, he meanders out to a balcony overlooking Coruscant’s expanse of lights, twinkling ladders of motion, reaching up to the lower atmosphere. And here, she follows after him minutes later, floating between shadows, a specter of innocence and dangerous beauty.

She pauses beneath a statue of some nameless goddess, a figure of Victory or Life, a pretension of lesser cultures. Weaker nations seeking hope in empty icons. The girl, young woman really, by the standards of human chronology, offers an entirely different contemplation.

From the sofa where he’s seated, viewing her from across the fountain, Thrawn appreciates the lithe symmetry of her form, a subtle disguise of strength and grace. Dangerous beauty. “You’re very like her, River Tam. A work of art, a living masterpiece,” he comments.

For as young as she is, not more than 20 years surely, she carries herself with a remarkable serenity. Stepping lightly around the other sofa, she leans her hip against the cushioned neck rest. Barely flickering an eyelid, she focuses luminous dark eyes on him, shining through the mottled patterns of light scattered between them.

Her voice resembles her figure, light and flowing. “A failed experiment, you mean, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Flawlessly, she speaks his name, though he knows they weren’t introduced at any point previous to this moment. ”I was supposed to be like them—the researchers were trying to make me like them. One of your chimeric hybrids.”

“Ah, the one who got away,“ he muses. Something at that stirs a flicker in her dark gaze. “Yes, little Albatross, I read the classified reports of your Core Parliament. About your brother, the escape. An elegant devising. And a lesson as to the deficiencies of private-contract security.“

Tension firms a line between her brows, hardens her expression as she glances away from him for a moment. “It wouldn’t have mattered.“

His derision comes out as a short, barking laugh. “Why? Because your escape resulted more from the incompetence of poorly trained guards than the alleged skill of your brigand crew mates?

Her attention swings back to him, conviction firm in her words. “No. Because my brother watches out for me. He protects me. And he loves me.”

Thrawn says nothing, stoic against her emotion, such a human flaw. Rubbing his thumb and middle finger together, of the hand draped eloquently off the arm-wrest, he continues sizing up this most intriguing amalgam of softness and mettle.

”Love is a weakness,” satisfaction grim in his tone, picking at a piece of this puzzle embodied by River Tam. Toying with it, testing how she’ll react. “It causes distraction from the warrior’s path. Makes them vulnerable to fear. And you, little Albatross, were foremost, molded as a weapon. A living masterpiece of perfection.”

Her lids slant, head tipped to the side slightly. “I dream about them still. The other test subjects. The Reavers. The dreams used to frighten me. They were worse when the scientists would be administering some new cocktail. They’re not as bad as they used to be, since Miranda. But their voices—I...hear them-“a frown ghosting over her features”-though I’ve learned to hush them.”

”I think you hear a lot more than that, River Tam.”

Challenge broods in a strange magnetism between them. ”So do you,” she says mildly, sending a wary shiver over his skin. How she knows about inoculating himself with the protogenome he can’t begin—

-of course he can. She’s a mind-reader, a telepath. What can’t she pick out of the whirl of thought composing humanoid psyches if she’s so determined?

His awareness smolders like embers in a breeze, open to the Shadow’s primordial sequences merged into his own cells. Enhancing perception, layers of reality peeled back when he channels this infernal heat coursing through his blood. Vision, smell, sound, his mind branching like light off a faceted diamond, reflecting images in a 1000 different plains. And Thrawn, glorying in the draught of fractured darkness.

River’s eyes glint in guarded scrutiny, attuned, perhaps to the whisper of power subsumed by Thrawn’s cultivated urbanity. Wandering over to where he’s seated, she lowers herself next to him on the couch. Her mind brushes against his like leaves floating upon a watery surface, remaining on the periphery without venturing into the depths.

“Chiis physiology-Stamina, strength, resilience against extremes of physical exposure. Superior reflexes and intellect inherent to your species, allowing adaptive advantages over the millennia. A robust psychology keeping you from succumbing to the deterioration of sensory assimilation, the way your clones eventually will. A perfect medium for channeling the Shadow.”

Thrawn wonders where she’s going with her exposition. She bears the full weight of his scorching gaze with nary a flinch. The fey-like curiosity alive across her youthful grace causes a rare unease, unused to be so unabashedly studied. He holds himself still, tensing at the light pressure of her hand taking his out of his lap, wrapping delicate fingers over a wrist corded by muscle.

”Everyone has a weakness,” she says. “Even you.”

Anger snarls beneath the surface of his poise, a broiling red froth that must have blazed up in his gaze. ”Whatever you think you see child, you take liberties of interpretation,” speaking in cold, controlled wrath before which she pales, breathing deep to collect herself. The pressure of her touch on his wrist, though, remains steady.

Her hand, slender fingers resting atop his own, no suggestion of anything other than gentleness. His own hand, larger, stronger, a grip that could crack her bones with minimal exertion. Strangle the air from her lungs, twist her fragile neck like silken twine. Tangling the rich brown waves of her hair in his grasp, forcing her head back till her spine might snap, plundering her mouth as he would plunder her body. Raze her mind till she was left a weeping pile of bruised limbs and torn clothes, cowering on the chill marble floor, her thighs bleeding like the rags of her mind.

Unperturbed, she shares every image coalesced in his thoughts. Each portrait of violence fading into the recess of darkness where the Shadow brews and twists like smoke above the infernal hells. As well, he’s viewed the record of her encounter with the Reavers after Miranda. Like Rhyanon, she would fight him with a skill capable of delaying the ultimate conquest. This wisp of a child, scarcely into womanhood, moving like sand and water, a song of death captured in every leap and twist. Every dive and slash as she wound a choreography of slaughter against an entire pack of beastial invaders. The outcome inevitably in his favor, if for no other reason than the greater strength of his sheer physicality would overwhelm, exhaust her eventually, compared to human anatomic inadequacy.

“A matter of minutes, to take you. An act of utility, really--to break you. Make you beg for a mercy that would never come.“

Her eyebrow crooks up, scolding or skepticism. “But you wouldn’t do that, any of those things.”

Her patient humoring isn’t what he anticipated. ”What makes you think so?” he asks out of mere speculation, momentarily forgetting the antagonizing subtlety guiding their conversation.

”Because you‘ve seen what I am. The weapon, not the woman. And,“ she says, sighing with an almost child-like assurance, looking out to the far horizon, “because seduction isn’t your weakness. She is.”

Damn the girl, for gut-punching through his composure with such guileless effort. His gaze follows hers, tracking the aerial traffic dotting Coruscant’s night skies in a flickering menagerie. He concentrates on keeping his breathing even, stilling his mind, as he considers his reply. The silhouettes of soaring towers outlined by shimmering lights blot out the sky, the glow which would normally be visible on a less metropolitan planet, of satellites in orbit, and stars far beyond.

”One word,” he says finally. “She could have changed the tide of this war for the Republic with one word.“

She turns, a searching intensity in her deep gaze. Seeing too much within him. “So could you, change the tide of this war for Republic,” she says softly, giving a gentle squeeze of his wrist.

Impatient and irritated with the poignancy in her tone, Thrawn shakes her hand off. “She has no idea, the fate to which she’s condemned the galaxy,” he tells her with a hard look, rising off the sofa. He looms over her, eyes burning across her face, so that for the first time, she shudders away from the brewing wrath. He marvels again, the steel disguised beneath the seeming delicacy of her body. Her sandeled feet tucked beneath her on the sofa, the fabric of her dress, simple design of polyfiber cotton, drapes fine curves of breast, hip, and thigh.

Despite her attention fastened upon the night horizon, nothing of intimidation colors her posture, but sadness tinges the turned-down line of her lips. He bows his head to her before heading back to the reception hall lying through a corridor adjoined to the balcony. A salute, a parting to conceal his remorse of the lost fate she chooses with her friends and allies.

“And you, little Albatross,“ he rasps in dire promise, the epithet snaring her surprised glance up at him. “You have no idea what’s coming. None of you do.”

A wasted masterpiece of living art, dangerous beauty.

—

Watching him stride away into the dim hall, the Grand Admiral’s disappointment aches like an overstrained joint. Bothersome, but eventually fading unless exacerbated. In his absence, the darkness hovers about her, the balcony esconsed, now, in transient quiet. Illusory peace.

Alive, so alive, the hum of myriad thoughts, voices, hopes, griefs—the gambit composing sentient life throughout the city. The planet. Her mind-reading truly can’t extend with any precision beyond the palace, but a general hum always persists in the background of her consciousness. The sound of living beings. A vibration silenced forever upon Miranda.

That silence had almost broken her sanity more than any experimentation. As scientists sought to harness innate hyper-sensory perception with neurochemical alterations, subjecting her to an intensive programming, molding her mind-body duplex into prime mental and physical conditioning. In the process, she was often torn, battered, abused, and tortured, her mind confused, shifting between lucidity and dissociation and nightmare. But never breaking.

The sound of death, of nothing. Emptiness like a vacuum, no thought, or feeling. Miranda had almost broken her. Miranda, it turned out, opened the road to a recovery of herself. What she is, what she’s meant to be? No one seems to know. At least not since Simon rescued her from the illicit lab which had been her prison. Hyper-awareness, sensory adepts, psychic traits expressed amongst humans were hardly uncommon through the Terran quadrant, both Core and Fringe systems. Posited by some scientists as a natural development of sentient consciousness, induced by interstellar travel over the centuries.

Among these foreign systems across the wormhole, peoples attributed such gifts to some metaphysical energy field. The Force. Light and Dark. The association, to River’s thinking, paradoxical for a property endemic to all beings, carrying no inherent morality until determined by the intent of the wielder. Perhaps she just didn’t quite grasp its intricacies as yet, conceding that nuances of intuition, emotion, passive reception, meditation still often eluded her. The Force embedded such concepts, rather than the more actualized focus of psychic traits held by the majority of systems native to the Terran quadrant.

What she is. What she‘s meant to be—*a weapon, a work of art*. *No*, she answers her own query, the feeling of defiance liberating. *A failed experiment. The one who got away.*

”And you forget,“ she whispers to the attentive night. “I can still hear them in my head. All the time. Just like you do, Mitt’raw’nuruodo.”

Miranda is not what Thrawn has in mind, that sort of emptiness. He wants something more. Under Imperium’s auspices, subjugating and assimilating one star system after another, spreading this corruption of time and reality, bleeding the Dark Entity’s ravenous, primordial substance like an oil-slick settling into the sinkholes of what had been viable Star-systems. Seeding these tortured hybrids cloned of Reavers, and whatever other mutated derangements of horror will fuse and divide in an incubator. With his enhanced soldiers, their minds a racket of incessant savagery, submission to Thrawn throughout the galaxy seems inevitable. Especially now that Intel, and Republic specialists working with Rhyanon, recently confirmed the adaptive capacity of certain hybrids to infect other living creatures with their intracellular genetic material.

They’ll never be completely hushed, even in the deepest caverns of her own mind. Reavers. The chimeric hybrids. They howl, writhe, snarl, and scream in agony beyond their comprehension. But the havoc of their consciouses, keeping the hybrids contained as a utilizable resource requires increasing concentrations of sedatives, hyponotics, and psychogenic pharmaceuticals.

She can feel their echo within Thrawn, too. Not of the violence, but his craving the Shadow’s power. It’s why he covets Rhyanon-her abilities of biologic manipulation, transforming the very backbone molecules of life. Healing, rejuvenating, reconstructing, restoring from disease, infection, deterioration and decay. Thirsting for the surcease she could provide, balancing the Dark Entity’s immersion of his own constitution. A living masterpiece, the kind of gifted elegance Thrawn desired, Rhyanon, like River, was another one who’d gotten away. Another failed experiment. Another dangerous beauty.

Rhyanon loathes him. Holding her captive on his flagship under the influence of cortical inhibitors, and hallucinogens. Trying to force her into stabilizing the synaptic connections of higher brain function in his hybrids. Dampening their insanity as the cloned offspring reached maturity. Coercing her in other ways as well, while she resisted the influence of intoxicants deluging her system. That was why she rejected his play at truce earlier during the dinner, an offer to join him voluntarily. That. And the fact she and the Jedi were patently lovers. A circumstance exacerbating the already furious enmity between the Grand Admiral and Luke.

Rhyanon would use those same graces of biokinesis to tear him apart one atom at a time, despite the danger of inducing her own body’s destruction. The price of biopsionic talents, a check limiting the potential for abuse of that power over life and death. Unfortunate, in that Rhyanon’s ability, synergized with the particular strengths shared between their small group of Force-wielders and sensory adepts, offers the only potential counter against Thrawn’s growing influence.

Finding some way of battling this Dark Matter entity. This Abaddon, commanding elemental forces dating from the universe’s origins. A being capable of destroying multiple star-systems if they resist its Seeding. They’d all seen what happened on Namsonis 4 in the aftermath of losing the majority of Dreadnaughts. A desperate evacuation. A world wrenched apart like a ball of mud crushed in a fist. A solar system facing a monstrous dehiscence of time and space, heart of chaos, blowing a hole through the core of a sun, and incinerating the other 6 planets spared Namsonis’s fate. Hours later, a festering wound across the void of black, rocky debris and ionized gas discharges the last traces of a star system no longer existing between tomorrows.

Contrary to the stillness in which she sits, River’s thoughts spin countless strands in the spreading web of her mind, her fingers running absently along the ridge of her collarbone. Picturing simultaneous star-maps, envisioning parallel scenarios of navigation vectors, battle engagements, the stratified calculations worked in trans-dimensional matrices. Always hearing the Reavers seething in the recess of her soul.

Finally, arriving at some conclusion, she reveals to the passing night, ”I do know exactly what’s to come.” And maybe, maybe there’s a chance. One distant, improbable-verging on impossible-chance they have of subverting this menace before it reaches the Terran quadrant.

#Star Wars #firefly serenity #grand admiral thrawn #River Tam #Rhyanon ferch Garowen #Luke Skywalker #Lattice of Infinity

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gins-potter · 3 years ago

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Just curious, why don’t you like enemies to lovers? Not even if it’s written well, with a satisfying redemption arc and character development?

Okay, I wouldn’t say I don’t like enemies to lovers all the time, just that 90% of the time it’s not for me. Bear with me because I’m pretty sure this is going to get long because I have lots of thoughts on the topic.

If it’s like you said, well written with a satisfying redemption arc and character development I very well may like it. I just happen to find that redemption arcs that are satisfying for me personally don’t happen very often. Obviously this is a subjective topic, but personally what makes a redemption arc satisfying is not the villain or enemy having a single moment of repentance 5 minutes before the ending of the novel/movie/tv show. For me to be satisfied it actually has to be an arc and one that exists away from a relationship. Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender jumps to mind. If memory serves, Zuko’s redemption arcs starts at the beginning of season 2 which means that arc is developed across two whole freaking seasons and that commitment to redeeming him is why it’s often characterised as one of the best fictional redemption arcs. And also why I’m much more open to shipping Katara/Zuko or Zuko/Sokka (I much prefer the latter just because I’m a Kataang girl).

But going back to enemies to lovers specifically, I also find that a lot of the time the “enemy” goes too far to be redeemed. If you look at the actual definition, an enemy is “a person who is actively opposed or hostile to someone or something. a thing that harms or weakens something else.” When you have two people on different sides on a (usually moral) conflict who are actively trying to defeat, kill, or harm the other, for me I’m not comfortable with shipping them even if the enemy or villain has been redeemed. And that’s no shade to people who are! It’s just part of how I interact with fiction, my favourite characters tend to be the good guys, imperfect and flawed sure but relatively good people who are trying to do good. And that translates to shipping as well.

Take Sp*rxshipping or D*rklina for example (just to use two ships I’m relatively familiar with). With Sp*rxshipping, V*ltor is directly responsible (in part anyway) for the destruction of Bloom’s home-world and the imprisonment of her parents for nearly two decades and then spends a whole season trying to destroy the universe more or less. For D*rklina he manipulates Alina and tries to take her power to use for his own goals (to sum it up very quickly). Neither villain have much of a redemption arc imo (the Darkling’s backstory and motives are explained and arguably sympathetic but for me personally don’t justify his actions) but even if they did, how do you redeem an enemy like that in a way where the hero would conceivably forgive them and want to be in a relationship with them? And again this is just something that I personally need to enjoy a ship like this, some people don’t, some will be satisfied with a redemption arc no matter what’s happened between the villain and hero, some don’t need the redemption arc at all. And all are valid! This is fiction, and (generally) liking what you like doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s just that personally for me I don’t find those kind of dynamics enjoyable and why enemies to lovers in the truest sense of the trope isn’t one I typically enjoy.

Now, if you consider other kinds of enemies to lovers ships, because enemies to lovers is a broad category and encompasses a lot of different dynamics (insert rant here about how enemies to lovers should be broken down into more specific categories) I’m much more open to those ships. Take the category of ships I would call adversaries to lovers for instance. An adversary is “one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute”, a definition that isn’t all that unlike the definition of “enemy” technically but the cultural implications of the two words create a difference. To me adversaries might be in conflict or dispute like the definition says but to a lesser extent than enemies might.

Nessian jumps to mind. They start out as very opposed to one another and constantly in disagreement despite the fact that they are on the same side of the larger dispute in the series (Prythian vs Hybern). And then we get that really nice redemption arc for Nesta in ACOSF (I call it a redemption arc for the sake of this post even though I wouldn’t necessarily characterise it as such as it’s more an arc explaining her history and why she is the way she is) where she really grows as a person, in conjunction with Cassian but also on her own. I never thought I’d ship Nessian and without that arc in ACOSF I probably wouldn’t but it’s because of that arc, and the fact they were never truly enemies just adversaries that I found myself loving them in SF. Previously they’d hurt each other’s feelings sure, they’d been nasty to each other, but never to the extent of true enemies. And as I’ve said a couple times now, if they had gotten to that “enemy status” as it were I personally probably wouldn’t be comfortable shipping them even with Nesta’s “redemption” arc in SF.

I’ll finally talk on rivals to lovers the last category of enemies to lovers ships and probably the funnest one imo and the one I ship the most. Rivals, defined as “a person or thing competing with another for the same objective or for superiority in the same field of activity.” are two people not diametrically opposed but nevertheless in competition with one another because of a similar goal or desired objective. Perhaps the softest of the enemies to lovers ships, this category tends to bring out a lot of fun tropes like stupid over the top competitions. And with this one a redemption arc isn’t really needed at all because neither side really ever crosses a line so much that one would be needed, the two sides just happen to be in competition until they realise “eugh I actually really like them” and have to deal with that which is always fun. The Hating Game by Sally Thorne comes to mind for this one, and while I didn’t love that book as much as everyone else seemed to, it wasn’t because of the ship.

So I guess the whole point of this was to A). finally have my “enemies to lovers is too broad a category and should be broken down into sub categories” rant and B). show that when I say “I don’t like enemies to lovers ships” I mean enemies in the truest sense of the word. And that liking enemies to lovers is totally valid! They’re just something that I personally don’t enjoy a lot of the time.

#answered #i am so sorry #holy crap this took me the better part of 30 mins to write #anti darklina #anti sparxshipping #just to be safe #anti valtor

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arsenicpanda · 3 years ago

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How about 4, 23, and 27?

Good choices! One of them got a little long (unsurprisingly), so under the cut we go!

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

I do, I very much do, it is, unsurprisingly, Betty/Archie, which offends my sensibilities by telling two of the best characterization decisions on the show--the decisions to make Betty (especially Betty) and Archie be versions of their tropes that show the inherent flaws in those tropes, the inner darkness in them, if you will, and the flaws in the dreams of middle class Americana--and telling those decisions to go fuck themselves. I just. It’s the whole point of the show, and Betty’s character is as interesting as she is (which is to say, very) largely because of this decision and I just. I can’t with this nonsense, it infuriates me. Like, if you ship it, more power to you, but we probably can’t talk about Riverdale together very much because I feel we will wildly disagree about it, and we don’t need that in our lives.

23. Unpopular character you love?

Hiram Lodge is ICONIC AND BEYOND REPROACH. He has done nothing but be entertaining since his first sinister appearance, and I will love him forever. Mark Consuelos knows exactly what show he’s on, and I cannot wait for Citizen Lodge. My only objection is that he doesn’t get to go up against Betty and Jughead enough.

The non-Riverdale answer is Final Fantasy VII’s Professor Hojo, who is a terrible asshole of a monster mad scientist, and I will love him forever.

27. Least shippable character?

Uncle Frank, hands down, because I want him gone. For real though, I’ve had a sit down to think about this, and honestly Betty has been given so few opportunities to have good scenes that will show off her chemistry with characters her own age. Outside of the other core four and Donna and kiiiind of Toni, most of Betty’s character dynamics with characters she can be shipped with are theoretical because the non-core four character Betty spends time with are Kevin (gay) and Cheryl (enough cousin for it to count, alas (seriously, if not for the, y'know, incest, Betty/Cheryl would have been so good, y'all)), so it makes shipping her not impossible but more of a challenge. Like, hard mode, basically. I mean, it took until season 4 for her to get her first enemy with big homoerotic vibes. Archie and Jughead got theirs in season 2 at the latest, and Veronica got hers in season 1 (honestly, whether or not Jughead belongs in s1 depends on how gay you interpret the vibes he has with Dilton and Reggie). I mean, her dynamic with Donna was top fucking tier and may it soon return, but damn did we get it late. Like, the absolute disrespect they have done Betty Cooper in giving her shipping opportunities by having all her adversaries be adults and not letting her have allies, my god. Here’s to hoping she gets a bunch of scenes with Tabitha with big sapphic energy, purely for the purposes of evening things out and giving Tabitha screentime, I have no ulterior motives here, what are you talking about.

#asks #sullypants #Riverdale #anti b*rchie #in this house we love and cherish Hiram Lodge and his nonsense #thank you sully for always humoring me with these #my thoughts on Riverdale let me show you them

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sasorikigai · 3 years ago

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" Papa- why is our clan emblem a scorpion? "

-| @hazazhi | [i like letting papa hanzo explain things,,,]

Random Inbox Shenanigans || @hazazhi || always accepting!

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || There is a perpetual chaotic war raging in his head; should Hanzo Hasashi ever embrace these feelings as the Shirai Ryu continues to be threatened by other prominent and formidable clans of Earthrealm or leave them for dead? Essentially, they were precarious allies for the shared goal of protecting and securing Earthrealm’s sustenance. Yet, the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster has to admit that things are as complicated as ever, the possibility of an ‘us’ swinging between ‘definitely,’ and ‘never.’ It is like a never-ending novel, filled with rich descriptions of a love, passion, dedication, and discipline that never will come short as ‘flawed.’ Hanzo finds himself tampering with the plot, trying to change the outcome, but maybe he is not quite ready, maybe the equilibrium is as of yet still unsteady, or maybe he is wasting his life chasing after concept that can never be realized.

Hanzo has never been a pessimist, for he remains strangely optimistic despite the stakes involved as the thought of losing the proverbiality of his nature plunges his mind into the abysmal depth of inescapable contemplation. The mantle of his title, Sasori, was originated because of his predatory, intimidating and assertive nature in kombat. Having achieved the unthinkable of gaining the mantle of Grandmaster at the tender age of early thirties, for more than a decade, did Grandmaster Hasashi continue to motivate himself to change the whole world he has known as Shirai Ryu, manifesting the mighty clan to be the place where dreams will be fulfilled, goals to be achieved, with healing every soul by filling them with abundance and love.

Also being sophisticated and unforgiving to the extent that Hanzo could effortlessly determine the precise distance and direction of his opponent in his dualistic nature, as he both encompassed tenderness and tenacity. Once the opponent has been detected, he would turn, stalk to his adversary, and seize his advantage through offensive tactics. Not to mention that its indomitable willpower against any threats, even as accumulating blemishes dilapidating the steeled, soldered resolve of his exterior.

There is certain pride and proudness etched upon the erect composure of the warrior’s stance, as Hanzo lovingly gazes down at his beloved son, with his legs squatted down in order to meet Satoshi’s gaze. It is better that they witness a scorpion engaged in battle with thousands of army ants, as he carefully observes the mighty claws sweep through the conglomerating black dots, slaughtering them with strength, speed, and efficiency. “See the Scorpion? No matter how many enemies, it continues on. It is strong, yes. It is fast. But do you know why the Scorpion is feared?” Hanzo pauses, as the dwelling fire in his dark amber surges onward and outward, becoming onslaught of his own exemplified strength in turmoil and strife.

“Its will. Willpower is what makes your destiny your own, for Shirai Ryu sculpt one’s own destiny with the strength of one’s mind. Learn to be strong, in your heart and mind. Promise me you'll remember that." Even in most difficult trials and tribulations, the indomitable will will never conquer one’s body, mind, and soul; as long as the triad of willpower, unflappable courage, and determination combined with strength and polished skills remained in a warrior, one shall never relinquish to any danger and will be the master of any situation. As a father, Hanzo Hasashi wished to Gods he does not believe that Satoshi won’t ever face such peril alone, but knowing that he will also grow to be the Shirai Ryu warrior in time, he would hope that he could demonstrate such in moment’s time, when Satoshi would be old enough to join him in missions. “Remember that, and you will achieve and conquer through every struggle and strife.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon)#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ i am hanzo hasashi (i)#(relationships; satoshi)#hazazhi

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phoenixtakaramono · 4 years ago

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THE UNTOLD TALE - CH3 PREVIEW

There was an important takeaway to be had from tonight’s interaction: Shen Yuan had asserted his place as the lord of this residence and as Luo Binghe’s future ally.

Several thoughts had, however, been plaguing him ever since Shen Yuan gifted Luo Binghe the handscrolls, leaving like the composed gentleman he was while the half-demon pondered over the newfound revelations for the night. Those thoughts filled Shen Yuan’s brain with a renewed vigor that his exhausted body did not feel, roiling through his brain as he changed into his night clothes. Even now, lying down with his hands folded over his stomach, they consumed his mind as he stared up at the azure, gauzy canopy that looked eerily similar to the one in the guest bedchamber that Luo Binghe now slept in.

Wisps of hazy white rose from the lotus-shaped censer he’d brought to his bed. The coals within were still fresh in the copper, keeping him warm in the night, with the fragrance of sandalwood circulating within the room.

His unyielding companion, the blue text box, hovered above. Shen Yuan kept his gaze averted from it; he had read and reread the Chinese characters countless times that if he closed his eyes, he could still see the most recent notification engraved in his mind’s eye.

【Prediction! Future Event <<A NIGHT OF PASSION>> has been changed into <<LOADING CHEKHOV'S GUN>>. You have reached the conditions to clear the scenario. Countdown commencing. Reward: B-Points +50.】

The planes of his face were bathed in a soft blue glow as he ruminated. Shen Yuan couldn’t find it within him to feel any guilt or to throw blame at anyone other than himself. He’d unlocked the <<TRUE END>> main scenario and, judging by how the <<SYSTEM>> was not giving him a choice, he had to build that rapport between themselves and see that friendship through.

These are the seeds you’ve sown, Shen Yuan, he reminded himself. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He could only dig his hands into the soil and watch the seeds slowly bear fruit.

Bing gē—or, rather, Luo Binghe—was not a 2D character on paper; he was now a real person who breathed and talked and had a will of his own. Even so, Shen Yuan didn’t know the extent of the ramifications if an extraordinary “prodigy” gained self-awareness that he was the male protagonist of a fictional erotica series.

It’d be interesting. If someone found out one day that they were a precious existence in a world which catered to them, they’d naturally become arrogant. All the attractive people belonged to them, hearts were won over for no real reason, and enemies would be seen as less of a threat and more as an annoyance. Shen Yuan could envision it; Luo Binghe would probably behave more recklessly, confident in the fact that he was protected by plot armor. He’d be a spoilt menace in a male power fantasy world—until the novelty wore off, and then the boredom set in.

The corners of Shen Yuan’s mouth curved. He didn’t know how likeminded Luo Binghe was, but if he thought like he did, he’d exploit his advantages.

A protagonist’s existence was akin to a cockroach, dragged from door’s death each time without fail.

This was not merely a case of schadenfreude—another difficult foreign term he’d learned during his pursuit as a novelist—where he reveled in another person’s misfortunes. It was a well-established trope in all forms of literature that when a person was casually dropped into a life-or-death situation, they would resurface as calamities. Since Luo Binghe was an important main character, he would naturally benefit.

...Sorry, youngster. Shen Yuan raised a white flag in commiseration for him in his heart. I didn’t mean to conscript you, but you must continue to work hard. Nationalistic pride exists among many Chinese writers.

Even pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had not been exempt from that.

In most narratives, the protagonist’s role was to rise above the rest and “smash the system.” Shen Yuan squinted up at the UI, his eyes beginning to water from its bright glow. He blinked rapidly, but the strain in his eyes refused to ease.

He swore in his head. This better not be the sort of tale where he and Luo Binghe had to compete to establish who was the one true protagonist, having to assert narrative dominance. Shen Yuan had no intention of pulling aggro to himself.

Raising a forearm up to shadow his vision, he groaned. He declared to no one, “Airplane brother, you’ve done your first son a great disservice.”

(He’d done a disservice to the original Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan as well as among many others.)

The events that had played out tonight strengthened Shen Yuan’s conviction. He could now see how people easily fell for his act; the charisma of a stallion protagonist was potent. Even so, he had capitalized on goodwill—and Luo Binghe’s strange fixation—hoping continuous acts of kindness being demonstrated toward him would soften him toward Shen Yuan and prove his intentions were sincere.

Should he prove himself to be of use, surely even somebody like Bing gē would not discard him during his rise to power or see him as a threat?

The only method he could foresee showing his fellow protagonist that his services were indispensable was by lending him his wisdom—and his predictions on the account of Shen Yuan being a <<FORTUNETELLER>>. His goal to leave a favorable impression with the other protagonist was already well underway, with the aim of establishing how it would be in Luo Binghe’s best interests to remember Shen Yuan’s acts of compassion and to return them tenfold in the future unless he wished to owe the celestial favors.

He recalled the last question he’d asked of him before Shen Yuan left, regarding the compatibility of his fated one.

Would it be strange if I wrote a predestined romance, for once? As much as Shen Yuan favored subverting expectations, he was aware of what sold commercially. There was a structure that made their literature different from those in the Western market whose shocking narratives could not only arouse pity in their audience, but also a sense of awe, excitement, fear, and suffering.

Their protagonists were not always someone of high society; they often hailed from humble origins as a device for the writer to underscore the merits of working hard and to criticize the system—a fictional one though, to avoid absolute censorship by the Chinese government. Their heroes began as nothing more than a windblown leaf in the social structure and years of ethical traditions set in place. They started on the bottom rungs of society to draw people’s attention to their lives, to the injustice and unfairness, which made their struggles all the more impactful to the reader.

The fates of the leading characters were tied to the juxtaposition of the harmonious ideal of society and the reality of a flawed system. Chinese tales were inherently romantic oftentimes, with tragic conflicts written to emphasize the beauty of a bond and rousing sympathy and pity for their plight. The archetype of a tragic hero was meant to be presented so profoundly that great reverence would well up spontaneously in one’s heart.

In his opinion, Luo Binghe had suffered plenty.

Under normal circumstances, as Peerless Cucumber, Shen Yuan was the sort of novelist where it would not be considered strange for him to challenge the romantic notion of soulmates by making his leading characters comrades or adversaries instead of lovers.

It was like the overseas Inception movie; he’d satirized enough old and tired clichés, it almost became expected of him to subvert expectations for all of his publications.

Guilt weighed on his mind. While he understood the implicit reality of his situation, he still felt like he was, in some way, disappointing his audience. The shame he felt was bizarre.

He swallowed. “My cherished readers...,” Shen Yuan murmured to the void as though they could hear him, “forgive this writer if I don’t subvert your expectations in this aspect just this once.”

The harem was the closest Luo Binghe had to a family. After the parental kindness of the washerwoman was torn away from him early in his life, after having endured the unhealthy environment that followed, the only love and tenderness he received in his life came in the arms of beautiful women. Tokens of affection were given in the form of intimate acts. It was no wonder Bing gē’s character had ended up twisted. He collected lovers with a greed not unlike a hedonistic minister who accepted bribes.

What a complicated man. Shen Yuan’s heart ached for the “blackened hero.”

There were so many women in the harem. In the presence of Luo Binghe, each one was gentle, kind, respectful, and submissive. But it was unrealistic for one husband, who had undergone the traumas that he had, to share his heart equally amongst them and not expect any misgivings.

What this Luo Binghe needed was a foil to his temperament, somebody patient, charismatic, and well-educated. Since Luo Binghe would be uniting the Three Realms, they needed to be proactive keeping him in check from becoming a self-indulgent, fatuous ruler. They cannot be sensitive to criticisms and speculation. A sensible head was needed on their shoulders to guide their merciless husband in understanding right from wrong and from any sycophants looking to lead him astray. It was integral to help the protagonist maintain a harmonious empire so that, together, they could lead a golden age of reform.

Shen Yuan wondered if there even existed such an extraordinary person.

Luo Binghe’s reputation was already in tatters in the Mortal Realm on the account of having a demonic heritage and having razed down the great righteous sects. Whatever goodwill he’d originally cultivated with his deceptive “nice guy” act had to be regained. Winning the war against the son of heaven and finding a good match would be integral in swaying public opinion to his favor. In public, they must present a united front, ruthless against their adversaries but dependable towards their subjects. It was only over time that the Sacred Rulers would prove themselves worthy of being idolized and beloved by the masses.

The <<SYSTEM>> had said that he and Luo Binghe should work together and in the end, they would unlock the epilogue that blessed them with their star-crossed lovers.

Until such a person was found, he supposed he could step into the role as his counsel whenever Luo Binghe needed advice. It was like tossing a peach and getting a plum back. Celestial or not, Shen Yuan used to be the son of a family of manufacturing executives. His profession might have been as an author, but he was educated in the principles of economics. Aside from sharing the <<PROTAGONIST’S HALO>>, his modern knowledge and his knowledge of both novel series were his cheats.

Like the spring breeze that thawed the frozen soil, he would be someone who reached into the abyss and grabbed that bloodstained hand. He could set a standard for Luo Binghe to emulate as the type of wise leader he should be, and his handsome junior could learn from his modern examples and put some of them into practice for his kingdom.

He’ll enable him into becoming the best person that he could be. And maybe, just maybe, the new era might be salvageable and worthy of pride for generations to come for not only the immortals and demons, but for the mortals as well.

“I’d redeemed you once,” Shen Yuan declared, his lashes fanning against his cheeks. He closed his eyes in reminiscence of his own fanfiction, inhaling the light, woody scent of the censer nearby. “I can do it again.”

In the meantime, he reflected, I must collect more merits. I cannot be lazy and lag behind in accomplishments.

While Luo Binghe fought his battles, Shen Yuan would be fighting his own—whatever they might be. He would not be outshone by his junior in his own meteoric rise.

“...System?” he inquired drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning on his side, he stared at a faraway wall. The glazed white surface of the porcelain pillow felt cold against his cheek, its smoothness reminiscent of jade. “Can you hear me?”

Ping.

【This <<SYSTEM>> provides the Esteemed Host a 24-hour service.】

“I don’t remember Airplane brother going into detail about what the education system is like in this setting. Is it supposed to be historically accurate to the ancient feudal model or…?”

Ping.

As he listened to the long encyclopedic explanation, what he’d heard confirmed his worst fears. Education was the privilege of the elites. Immortal cultivators prioritized studying matters of the “spiritual heart” and Qi refinement, in the martial and mystical arts, breaking through the bottleneck of each cultivation stage until their dedication allowed them to reach the pinnacle that was the Ninth Stage.

With that narrow-minded focus on self-enlightenment, the basic education curriculum of the twenty-first century would be seen as innovative in the pre-established setting of this strange world.

In the early webnovels, Bing gē had stagnated as a late-stage Core Formation expert. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, in his laziness to research the many intricate nuances of the Cultivation World, had waved it all away by attributing his protagonist’s OPness to his ancient, heaven-fallen demonic heritage and to the deus ex machina that was his legendary sword. Even then, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky still occasionally confused the Foundation Establishment with the Nascent Soul stages.

It wouldn’t be until the end of the series—after the outcry of the netizens—that the unsatisfied Luo Binghe made the breakthrough into the proper Nascent Soul stage with the help of his wives and their many gratuitous papapa scenes.

Then in the epilogue, the author had infuriatingly time-skipped all the way to the penultimate Ninth Stage, describing how Luo Binghe became a legend among legends who had finally attained eternal youth and aged back into his late twenties in his new immortal body after having miraculously passed the Heavenly Tribulations—disasters from heaven which were akin to nuclear radiation for those of demon blood. After an unspecified many years of rule, he’d left his legacy behind—with the uncountable size of his harem and a boundless number of his descendants “mourning the loss of a great and oftentimes misunderstood man.”

Just remembering it made Shen Yuan’s blood pressure spike dangerously. Taking deep, calming breaths, he rolled back onto his back as he forced himself to attain catharsis from listening to the mind-numbing exposition the <<SYSTEM>> was extolling to him like a history program. His fingers clenched the bed sheet.

Eventually he found himself feeling adrift, the words beginning to lose their coherency to him as he phased in and out of consciousness, his mind becoming wrapped in a haze of smoke. Soon his tense muscles relaxed.

The countdown had reached 00:00:00 when sleep finally claimed him.

Note: Small details of this scene might be subject to revision when the final draft comes out. Ch1-2 can be found on AO3. Link is in my bio!

#svsss #luo binghe #shen yuan #bingyuan #shen qingqiu #scumbag system #bingqiu #the untold tale #preview #phoenixtakaramono #svsss fic #obvs there is some canon divergence here #or rather a creative interpretation on PIDW canon #the dream sequence takes place after #I’m excited for the foreshadowing #SY is essentially describing himself #that’s the joke

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twistedtummies2 · 4 years ago

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Gotham’s 31 Most Wanted - Number 2

Welcome back to Gotham’s 31 Most Wanted! Each day of January, I’ve been counting down my Top 31 Favorite Batman Villains of all time! Today, we’re covering My Second Favorite Batman Villain! And he is a puzzling fellow, indeed. Number 2 is…The Riddler.

Edward Nygma, a.k.a. The Riddler, is another of those villains who has gone through various ups and downs in his long history. The basic idea of the character has always remained the same: obsessed with puzzles and word games since childhood, and consumed by a compulsive need for attention and respect, the Riddler is a villain who longs to prove himself Gotham’s Cleverest Carbon-Based Lifeform. The character is frankly one of the biggest egotists in Gotham City, seemingly suffering from a sort of superiority-inferiority complex; a constant need to put others down in order to boost himself up, as he tries to present himself as the smartest person in Gotham, and perhaps even the world. Riddler’s modus operandi is as follows: the character gets his moniker from a habit of leaving clues for Batman and the police to solve, usually in the form of riddles or puzzles of some sort. These clues can be hints to his next caper, a way to stop him, where he’s hiding out…maybe even all of the above. He also makes a habit of creating complicated and elaborate death traps, all of which DO have weaknesses of some kind, but it is up to those trying to break them to figure out what they are. Some of his “games” are simple, others are far more complex, but they are all created with the express purpose of flaunting Riddler’s intelligence, as he waits for the moment when his pursuers will fail to guess the answers and find the solutions. This fundamental flaw in Nygma’s personality is where a lot of the less-than-stellar reception he’s gotten comes from: who in their right mind expects to be a great villain when they deliberately create clues and weaknesses? Indeed, there was a period in time where the Riddler was widely regarded as something of a “Loser Villain;” a clumsy goofball who thought he was smarter than he really was. While villains like Penguin or Scarecrow have gone through dips in their careers, they are usually treated with some element of respect even in their lowest points; the Riddler seemed to be a character that even the staff at DC felt was no good for a time, and I’m sorry to say that it is still a feeling I’ve seen circulated here and there, though it isn’t as common nowadays. What I think people miss when they look at that is that they’ve answered the riddle of the Riddler simply by asking that question: who in their right mind does things like that? Answer: NO ONE. Edward Nygma is, in his own way, one of the most demented Batman Villains of all time. Time and again he’s TRIED to give up his habits, or at least create clues and puzzles so baffling they CAN’T be solved, period…but time and again, he FAILS. He just can’t stop himself. He CRAVES that sense of victory, of proving that he’s better and smarter than everyone around him. He’s tried to reform a couple times throughout the years, but inevitably, the thrill of crime and the infamy it brings him calls him back to the darkness. It’s almost tragic, really. The other thing that people miss, despite it being pointed out frequently by many an analyst and scholar, is that the Riddler is a very specific sort of enemy: again, many villains reflect Batman in some way, and the Riddler, above ALL of the rest, seems to be the one who acts as the great adversary to Batman as a detective and problem-solver. The Riddler typically does NOT make his games easy to solve; the challenge for the Dark Knight is finding ways to escape, or free the hostages, or stop the robbery, or whatever he has to do, with limited time. Can he figure out the secret before it’s too late? THAT is the kind of game the Riddler plays: it’s not a matter of deliberately trying to lose, and it’s not as if he’s not a dangerous character. He’s recognizably (nowadays) a genius, gifted in many fields of science and other academic elements, and with a keen deductive mind that honestly could outclass Batman’s own. Bottom line: for a person trying to prove he’s the smartest in the world…what is harder to pull off than the perfect crime? The sensation that everyone knows you’re responsible, but nobody can prove it or stop it? He wants his name up in lights, as he howls to the world that he cannot be outsmarted; that’s not a character who is fundamentally weak, it’s simply a character who is fundamentally unhinged. I’ve always loved the Riddler; there’s never been a time in my life where I WOULDN’T defend him as one of Batman’s greatest villains. I love characters who are clever, intelligent, mischievous, perhaps dangerous, and who can be enigmatic and strange while also fascinating. The Riddler is all of these things, and I’m glad that, in recent times, he HAS been getting more and more respect. He really does deserve it. While not every story or interpretation has been perfect, we’re currently in one of the “ups” of his career as I type this, and I hope the next “down” doesn’t come for a while. Tomorrow the countdown comes to an end. The time will soon be here to talk about My All Time Favorite Batman Villain. HINT: He Can’t Be Killed; That’s Why They Cast a Phoenix to Play Him. (If you got that reference, you are awesome.)

#gotham's 31 most wanted #january advent calendar #new year's countdown #batman villains #batman #villains #dc #comics #supervillains #rogues gallery #best #favorites #riddler #edward nygma #edward #nygma #e. nygma

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blacksunscorpio · 4 years ago

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Hi Scorp, What does it mean to love on your dark side? I need some examples. Phrases to say to accept the darkness rather than repress it. I'm a 4th house Pluto Stellium

What it Means to Love on Your Dark Side

We're all born like blank canvases. However, at some point during our childhood development, we are taught information that teaches us to separate things into right and wrong. Into, good and evil. The minute we eat from this proverbial tree of knowledge, our shadow is born and consciousness begins to divide itself into multiple parts. Moreover, in our cultural socialization process, we begin to compartmentalize these habits within us that are “kosher and acceptable to the world” [ this is termed as the Persona] and those that are unacceptable [The Shadow]. The latter as a result is usually forced to be hidden away/

But. contrary to popular belief, your shadow is not an error or a flaw, It is a part of the natural order of who we are. Not the sum of us, no, but a significant part. It’s not a problem to be solved; it’s an enigma that must be faced. It has the power to connect us to the depths of our own imaginations. It’s there to protect you.

Example 1.

Let's say that you have had a bad experience with someone. They’re a pathological liar. Manipulative. Condescending and have maybe subjected you or someone you know to said nastiness. One day, they do something nice for you or say something nice to you and you think to your self:

“SMH...This fake ass bitch [gender neutral], they’ve got an agenda, this piece of shit never does anything unless it benefits them”

You don't say thank you. That is your shadow self reacting to the perceived threat this person has been. The problematic individual you’ve observed them to be in the past. Once bitten, twice shy, right? When this happens, don’t be ashamed of this reaction. That is your shadow self picking up on the queues your conscious self absorbs. Instead of telling said person what you really think of them talk to your shadow self instead,

You say: “Thank you for being alert enough to protect me.”

Example 2.

Let's say that you’re a woman, you see a man. He is gorgeous. Well-groomed. Charming. The bulge in his pants is considerable, Whatever. The bottom line, your body is filled with lust. You are more aroused by looking at this man that you’ve been in any of your past relationships. But alas, you see a glint of silver on his left ring finger. He’s married. But you want him anyway.

This is your shadow-self triggering your need for stimulation. Showing you you are fertile. In touch with your sensuality. Your need for passion. For Pleasure. No matter the cost. But instead of letting your shadow self overpower your other-selves and cause you to break up a marriage.

You say: “Thank you for showing me, that I am not frigid, but that I’m capable of unrivaled levels of passion.”

The Next Level is Working With Your Shadow Side.

Utilizing its energy to achieve a justified end. Revenge, for example, is one of those things. [I’m sure you, like others with Plutonic placements, can understand this.]

When you feel wronged in some way, your shadow self’s visceral reaction is to want payback. We teach people how to treat us. When you feel this urge, Think of it like this: That it is your shadow self giving you an alert from the Universe

The message the universe is conveying through your shadow? That you’ve been appointed teacher in your enemy’s karmic lesson.

Workplace perks? You get to choose the curriculum.

Lesson Plan One: The Success Option.

You glow up. You spit on your adversaries and sneer because they aren’t worth your time. Beat your enemies at everything. Be ruthlessly happy. Let them test your commitments but fail trying to see you give up on them. They stress themselves with pop quizzes trying to figure out how to beat you. How to keep you down. They do homework on your social life, your next move, your job. You give them midterms worth 50 percent of their grade, the subject matter? A 7000-word essay on why you’re so unbothered. They pull all-nighters trying to piece together how you keep shitting on them.

You say: “Thank you, for showing me that basking in my success is not narcissistic but an acknowledgment of my strengths in the face of opposition.”

Then there’s Lesson Plan 2: The Hard Knocks Approach.

[Growing up in Brooklyn, with a West Indian and South American family, I’ve seen and done it all.] This lesson plan is more militant. More offensive. You crush your enemy totally. It’s been taught by every successful general in the ancient world. Just like the 48 laws of power says “All great leaders since Moses have known that an enemy must be crushed completely. (Sometimes they have learned this the hard way.) If one ember is left alight, no matter how dimly it smolders, a fire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: Crush him, not only in body but in spirit.” This goes for something as simple as ignoring the "mercy rule" during your college basketball game, never letting the opposing team catch up to making sure a rapist not only loses his freedom [jail] but making sure he's never able to get an erection ever again.

I believe there is no shame and it is absolutely okay to admit that sometimes, a person just needs a good ass-whooping. Whether that’s a physical brawl, a perfectly manufactured curse or hex, a lecture that lays all their dirt bare, a lawsuit, or something as simple as a witty clap-back.

Whatever you do, your mission as the educator is to make sure the student [i.e the enemy] graduates with a B.A. in humility with a concentration on never fucking with you again. Your curriculum here is not to bend them or get them pressed like lesson plan one.

But to break them.

Experience is the best teacher, after all. When this level has been achieved, we say:

“Thank you shadow, for being a messenger, for helping me teach and for allowing me to take part in balancing scales.”

Sometimes the universe speaks to you through your shadow self. It alerts you to methods of facing challenges. Your higher self teams up with your shadow and adds a bit of cosmic guidance, and your conscious self processes and executes. This is why it is important to love on all parts. Integration is key. The Higher, the Conscious, and the Shadow. They make up the sum of who you are. At the end of the day, we use both hands every day, don’t we? We have two for a reason. Unless you learn to first embrace that darkness within, you can never pursue the light of self-love in a balanced way. The more our darkness is avoided, the more it metastasizes within us, waiting like a volcano to erupt at any moment. And because it is powerful, it can have chaotic repercussions if left ignored. But when it is acknowledged and respected, it will only appear to whisper not scream. It will come when it’s called instead of burst in unceremoniously. It will be like a well-trained guard dog. Dangerous? Of course. There to protect? Naturally.

#asks #shadow self #higher self #conscious self #good q #balance #astrology asks #astrology and psychology #my writing #perspective #bruja tips #witchblr #astro tumblr

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