#the vicious poison trope

[hyog-blog]

The Story of Pearl Girl (ep. 33 + ep. 34)

At this point, I'm just enjoying whatever is happening on screen XD There's a sweetness to these last episodes, yet there's also bitterness because Yan Zijing's health is getting worse. No magical cure in the nearest vicinity so far, and Su Muzhe still has no idea her boo is so sick.

Otherwise, they're getting closer in the best way possible - like partners in crime revenge and in business, and could easily get much closer than that, but alas. I'm still hoping for a plot twist that will make it a happy ending, no matter how ridiculous, I'd take it, no questions asked.

Su Muzhe is resembling Yan Zijing more and more both in terms of running business and making bad people suffer and pay for their wrong-doings. She's such a bad girl, I love that side of her :3

Meanwhile, Yan Zijing and Zhang Jinran happily cooking together, discussing YZJ's shady plots and tactics. Behold the baby face of a man who poisons your main witness on the case so he doesn't get snatched from under your nose by some bad officials. Yan Zijing has every right to be smug))) 2ML needs to appreciate his lawlessness more - it's literally saving lives XD

And this is the face of a man who feels he's about to be bent over, but still has no idea about the scale of it. And a cunning face of a woman who will screw him badly, no foreplay whatsoever >:D That's Yan Zijing's school right there. Kang Ju just quietly enjoying the show in the back :D

A few romantic moments in-between plotting and scheming. YZJ actually wants to enjoy some time with her, but why does this feel like the last quality time they'll ever have? Like he wants to give her a few good memories before, you know, poison happens. They're still deliciously cute and complex together. Just a very wholesome couple. And once again, such beautiful shots.

The face of a woman who can see right through her boo, and the face of a man who loves her to bits because of that. And probably a few thousand reasons more, but he'll never tell her about that. He's so smitten though :3

And some pretty scenes because the show keeps on delivering gorgeous visuals. Cinematic deliciousness.

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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There are three possible love interests that you can pursue in the game.  

Firstly, Alistair Calderwood. Prior to meeting the heroine, he is engaged to the villainess, but holds no romantic feelings for her. Needless to say, he falls deeply in love with the heroine and ends his engagement, which drives the villainess absolutely insane. In Alistair’s route, her obsessive tendencies result in her regularly harassing the heroine. Although it starts off small, similar to playground bullying, it quickly devolves into something more vicious. On one occasion, she even succeeds in poisoning the heroine, though she survives because the dose is thankfully non-lethal. And also because of plot armor. Definitely plot armor.  

Anyways, long story short, the villainess spirals more and more due to her obsession with Alistair, and she is eventually punished for her crimes through execution—by none other than Carmine, the man standing before you.  

That’s only the first route, though.  

Carmine Mortis is the second love interest in the game. His is an admittedly clichéd story, with that whole trope of a knight falling for a noblewoman and coveting her affections, but societal norms and social status end up standing in the way of their relationship. It’s not a particularly original concept, but you’ve always had a soft spot for characters that will fight tooth and nail for their loved ones, which is why he was your favorite out of the trio.  

Eventually, Carmine and the heroine overcome all the obstacles in their way and obtain their happy ending. But this ending unsurprisingly comes at the cost of the villainess’ life. She is a recurring antagonist, regardless of whether or not you choose Alistair’s route and her engagement falls through. Yet another reason why you think she’s such a poorly written character, because her motives in this route are much less established. The premise of the game is that the heroine is from a failing noble household, and her family moves to a new kingdom after being driven from their own land. The villainess kind of just decides to pick on her when she is introduced into high society, for remarkably petty reasons.  

God. You seriously don’t know who’s writing these villainess-type characters, but it’s a literal tragedy how poorly done they are. How hard is it to create a convincing and humane antagonist that people can maybe even sympathize with at times? Even villains that are flat-out meant to be hated can still be well-written, provided you understand their motives and they have a compelling character arc.  

But you suppose it’s a bit too late for such criticism, because from now on, this isn’t just a story, and these people are no longer simply characters.  

This is your life.  

And you’re sure as hell not going to throw it away.  

Carmine purses his lips. “Is everything alright, my lady? You seem a bit disoriented. The shock of the situation must have really frightened you.”  

You blink, realizing that you’re still holding onto his hand after he helped you to your feet. You pull away as fast as you can, and while it’s true that coming face to face with your would-be executioner is jarring, to say the least, there’s no reason for you to actually panic at this stage.  

You are innocent. You have yet to commit any of the crimes the villainess did—and you don’t ever plan to. There’s no reason why Carmine would ever slice your head off with his sword. Having played the game, you know exactly how powerful he is, and how incredibly easy it would be for him to end your life, but there’s simply no situation where that would ever occur.  

As far as you’re concerned, this will be the last meeting the two of you ever have.  

“I’m fine,” you reassure. The longer you stare at him, the more you calm down. He’s still a knight, after all. A protector of the people. He only punishes criminals, and since you’re not a piece of shit (presumably), there’s no conflict to be had.  

“Why did you try to apprehend that thief all by yourself?” Carmine frowns. Rather than looking angry, he just looks confused, which seems to be how most people react to you these days. “Even if he wasn’t concealing a weapon, did you plan on restraining him on your own? He would have overpowered you with ease.”  

Well, that’s not necessarily true. You could have done… something. Probably. Maybe.  

…fine, it was a stupid, spur-of-the-moment idea. But at least your heart was in the right place.  

“I just wanted to help,” you shrug. “I couldn’t let that man get away with stealing. I wasn’t sure if anyone else would act in time, so I took my chances. Admittedly, the thought that he might have a weapon didn’t really cross my mind… but I’m sure he wasn’t actually going to hurt me.”  

From a little distance off, the thief, who has since been tied up and bound with rope, proceeds to glare at you. 

“No, I had every intention of stabbing you,” he states.  

“Oh. Well, that’s… good to know. Thank you for your candor, I guess.”  

You flash him an awkward thumbs-up, but he merely spits on the floor and curses you in response. Meanwhile, Carmine stares at you in abject horror, and Fiona looks like she wants to curl up in a ball and die.  

Carmine shakes his head. “Try to ignore him, my lady. Deplorable scum like that isn’t worth your time. I assure you, he will be punished accordingly. Not only did he steal, but he also threatened violence. It’s a good thing I was able to apprehend him before anyone actually got hurt.”  

You look back at the thief again, who is muttering under his breath, no doubt saying immensely unflattering things about you. Still, you catch him muttering something about ‘spoiled nobles’, and how ‘people like you will never understand what it’s like to go hungry’. While you certainly don’t condone his crimes, you try to remain sympathetic to the fact that there are people who are less fortunate than you, and sometimes, those people turn to drastic measures in order to survive.  

“I wish I’d at least ripped a hole in your stomach before I got arrested,” the thief snarls.  

Dude. You’re making it really hard to feel sorry for you right now.  

Carmine narrows his eyes. “On your feet, criminal. And don’t speak to her like that. Have you no concept of respect?”  

Carmine jerks the thief up by the rope binding his limbs together, and makes a big show of keeping one hand poised above the hilt of his blade. It’s a silent threat. A warning of what will happen if he doesn’t cooperate. 

“I need to have this man brought in,” Carmine says, turning towards you again. He pauses to look you over. It seems like he’s still worried you might be hurt, or perhaps shaken up, and it’s true that you were shaken up—but for a different reason entirely. 

After what feels like an eternity of silence, he smiles.  

“There’s no doubt that what you did earlier was incredibly reckless. However… I can appreciate that you have a penchant for justice. It’s very admirable that you were willing to put yourself in harm’s way to stop a criminal.”  

Oh, wow. He’s actually complimenting you? That’s awesome! This was pretty much exactly what you intended. The more favorable impressions people have of you, the better your reputation will be, and the less likely it is that you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of a pointed blade.  

It’s definitely going to take a while, but already, it looks like your villainess title is starting to be stripped away.  

“I just want to help, however I can,” you say, smiling sweetly and batting your eyes.  

Carmine chuckles. “Yes, well, your intentions are respectable, but from now on, please be more careful and avoid placing yourself in harm’s way. Us knights are always on the lookout for criminals. We’ll be sure to keep everyone safe.”  

“Will do, boss.”  

Your smile turns to a wide grin, and Carmine gives you a curious look, clearly not used to your modern-day slang. You’ve been trying to adopt the mannerisms and way of speaking of people in this setting, but it’s difficult to completely overwrite old habits. Maybe you’ll get used to it with time. Or maybe other people will get used to how much you’ve changed. Whichever comes first.  

What started off as a rather tense encounter has fortunately ended without any issues. If you avoid the heroine, there’s no reason your path should ever cross with Carmine’s again. It’s possible you might catch glimpses of him in town every now and then, but otherwise, you will both lead separate lives.  

So far, it looks like you’ve managed to distance yourself from two of the three major love interests in the game. Not bad for less than a week in your new body. Not bad at all.  

“God, I’m so epic,” you sigh. 

Fiona, however, doesn’t seem to think you’re that epic. In fact, she has rather strong opinions on the matter.  

“Lady [Name]!” she fumes, and you watch as she balls her hands into cute little fists and shakes them wildly. She’s clearly upset, but honestly, she’s just too adorable to take seriously.  

“What is it?” you chuckle.  

“How can you even ask me that? You could have gotten seriously hurt earlier! If that man’s knife had struck you, you could have died!”  

She gasps for breath after exclaiming her last point, more riled up than you’ve ever seen her. What a loud scream to be coming from such a small little maid. It’s actually rather impressive.  

“Yes, I was reckless,” you admit. You reach out, hesitating for a moment, then you grin and pat her on the head. “It’s a good thing you reacted so fast. I sure am glad I brought you with me. You saved my life, Fiona. You’re amazing.”  

Fiona bristles. “Huh? O-Oh. Well, of course! I couldn’t possibly have let my lady get hurt! B-But what you did still wasn’t safe! There’s no telling what could have happened if that knight hadn’t been passing by!”  

She puffs out her cheeks, still very much indignant, but it looks like she’s not opposed to you patting her head. It actually seems like she’s enjoying it quite a bit. 

You finally let your hand drop, then smile again. “You’re right, Fiona. That was very rash of me, and I promise it won’t happen again. I overestimated my authority and thought I could get a criminal to behave. I guess I just wanted to feel like I was doing a good deed.”  

Fiona’s eyes widen, and you can’t blame her, because based on everything she knows of the previous [Name], wanting to ‘do good’ must sound like some kind of sick joke.  

But you can see it in her expression. Slowly but surely, her doubts and reservations are melting away. Perhaps she felt your sincerity when you patted her head, or even before, when you expressed interest in remembering her name. Whatever the case, you can tell that she’s making an effort to look past all the offenses [Name] committed against her, and is choosing to believe in the you of the present.  

You’ve just gained the cutest little ally you could possibly ask for.  

“I-I understand what you were trying to accomplish, but it was still terrifying!” she insists. She presses a palm to her chest and exhales shakily. “Just… please don’t ever do that again. I’m not sure if my heart will hold out.” 

“Aw. I’m sorry for scaring you. Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”  

You wink playfully, to which she just sighs and hangs her head in resignation.   

Still, Fiona has a point.  

At this rate, it’s much more likely that you’ll die because of your own stupidity, rather than the plot of the game.  

“...holy shit, is that stall selling mini donuts?!” 

“I’m telling you, honey, our daughter might actually be a genius!”  

Your father beams proudly as he flips through the latest pages of homework he assigned you. Needless to say, you completed everything again, and with stellar marks too. Your mother watches on with obvious skepticism, peeking out from behind her frilly hand fan. She can’t quite seem to wrap her head around what’s happening. As far as she knows, you’ve always been, well… an idiot.  

“[Name] really solved all of these questions herself?” your mother asks, still not buying into the whole thing.  

“She most certainly did,” your father hums. “I even sat here and watched her do it! Isn’t that incredible? To think that we were housing such a prodigy all this time!”  

You grin cheekily, to which your mother starts fanning herself faster, mumbling something inaudible under her breath. Probably to do with the fact that she thinks you might be possessed. It’s a popular theory that still hasn’t died down, by the looks of it.  

Whatever. You’re fully aware of the fact that you’re behaving very differently than the previous [Name], but you need to do this. You need to make a massive change, otherwise, there’s no doubt that people will resent you for the heinous acts the villainess committed before. Besides, it’s not entirely unheard of for people to reinvent themselves. It’s not especially common, but it does happen every now and then.  

Also, you think it’s really funny how your parents keep acting like you’re the second coming of Einstein. You’ve always considered yourself to be decently smart, but given how straightforward your father’s math problems are… they’re definitely giving you too much credit.  

Oh, well. It’s much better to have naive, supportive parents than ones that will make your life hell.  

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” your mother frowns. “[Name], you always used to whine and avoid studying. You said you would rather die than have to do homework, and one time you threw a fit and threatened to jump out the window.”  

“...”  

I already knew the villainess was a whiny little bitch, but come on. Whatever happened to standards, sis?  

“Um.” You awkwardly clear your throat. “Yes, well, I’d rather not speak of that incident. I’m embarrassed with how I behaved. It’s true that my sudden change in demeanor might seem rather shocking, but I really am trying to become a better, more accomplished person. Once I started actually applying myself, I realized it wasn’t as difficult as I initially thought. I only wish I’d done this sooner.”  

Unlike your father, who is absolutely giddy with the newly-improved version of his daughter, your mother seems to be much more dubious of this whole situation. Perhaps it’s a mother’s intuition or something. Obviously, she would never be able to guess that you’re an entirely different person trapped inside a new body, but it’s clear that she still has her suspicions.  

She snaps her hand fan shut, then nods. “I see. Well, this is a relief. It’s good to see you taking things seriously for a change. A strong work ethic is something to be admired.”  

She pats your shoulder and smiles encouragingly, but as she’s walking away, you swear you catch her frowning at you out of the corner of her eye.  

Yeah. She’s definitely not fully on board yet. You can only hope that, with time, she’ll come to accept the change.  

At least your father’s having a field day.  

“My darling little genius,” he praises, ruffling your hair affectionately. “[Name], I want you to know that your mother and I are both very proud of you. In fact, we’re considering finding a tutor for you to work with. Clearly, someone of your intellect needs to be challenged accordingly, and with their help, you’ll learn at a much more accelerated pace.”  

A tutor, huh? Well, you’re not opposed to it. You’ve spent the past few years of your life listening to countless professors drone on during lectures, most of which didn’t teach you jack shit. The better portion of your academic career has been self-taught. A tutor should be fine, because you get to work one-on-one with them and they’ll actually listen to your questions.  

“Of course, father. I’m excited to expand my knowledge and push past my limits.”  

He outright squeals in delight, then pulls you into his arms and gives you the biggest bear hug of all time. He was initially furious when you broke off your engagement with Alistair, but it looks like he’s completely gotten over to it.  

And to think that all it took was solving a few math problems. 

“Thank you, math,” you mumble quietly, which are undoubtedly words that nobody has ever spoken before.  

Your father eventually pulls away from you, still smiling. “Keep up the good work, my dear. And remember that we’ve been invited to attend a social function tonight. I wanted to remind you in case you’d forgotten. If you continue to be diligent with your studies, I’d be more than happy to let you pick out some new dresses for future events. You mentioned before that your wardrobe has been looking rather sparse as of late.”  

You’re tempted to roll your eyes, because what the villainess considers to be sparse is easily a hundred times more clothes than you’ve ever had. 

“Thank you for your generosity, father. I would certainly appreciate some new clothes, but I’ll shelf the issue for the time being. I’d like to make sure I’ve earned my reward. It still feels like I have a long way to go.”  

Your father chuckles. “My, my. To think that you’re even exerting so much restraint! Who are you and what have you done with my daughter? Haha.”  

“Haha… ha.”  

Don’t play with me, old man.  

He grins one last time, pure adoration in his eyes, before eventually leaving. So far, it’s pretty safe to say that your father is on your side, Fiona is loyal and is slowly coming around to the fact that you’re a better person, and your mother remains to be fully convinced. But either way, you’ve successfully broken up with Alistair and haven’t had to face any consequences, which is a win in your book.  

Now, then. It’s time for the most challenging task you’ve had thus far.  

Etiquette. 

Having played the game, you’re somewhat conscious of how certain characters within the nobility were expected to behave, but putting it in practice is a different matter entirely.  

Up until now, you’ve been able to get away with your crude, modern-day way of acting, mainly because you haven’t attended any parties or notable social gatherings. You’ve stayed within the confines of your manor, and save for when you went into town that day, you haven’t made any public appearances.  

This time, however, things are different.  

Your parents can mostly excuse your erratic behavior. You are their daughter, after all, and so long as no one important is there to bear witness, they don’t seem too concerned with it. But when faced with countless members of the nobility, most of which are looking for just about any opportunity to gossip and scrutinize, your carefree attitude won’t go over that well.  

Your one saving grace is that people already have a bad impression of the villainess. They already expect you to make rude, shameless remarks and go around trying to stir up trouble. Obviously, you won’t be doing any of that, but you hope that whatever mistakes you might make tonight will be overlooked. The last thing you want is to stick out like a sore thumb.  

“Can you believe it? [Name] actually had the gall to show up.” 

“Didn’t she make one of the other ladies cry at the last party?”  

“She did. I heard that poor thing couldn't handle the abuse and ran out into the garden, then she tripped and broke her ankle.”  

You blink tiredly.  

Looks like not standing out is a hollow dream. 

“Shh! She’s coming over here,” one of the gossiping women chides. They’re all huddled up in a group, but the second they notice you passing by, they throw on practiced smiles and pretend like nothing ever happened.  

“[Name]!” the same woman coos, using a very obviously fake, superficial tone of voice. She then curtsies, most likely because you outrank her. “Oh, how lovely it is to see you! I was wondering if you’d been invited. You always have a way of… spicing the evening up.”  

The women standing behind her giggle obnoxiously. It’s obvious that this is intended to be a passive-aggressive display, as well as an attempt to humiliate you. 

But what they don’t realize is that you’re not the same person anymore—quite literally. Therefore, no matter how they try to insult you, there’s no reason for you to take it seriously. And besides, your foremost concern is ensuring that you survive. What’s a few catty bitches compared to the threat of death?  

“Hello,” you smile. “It’s nice to see all of you as well. Also, in regards to what you were whispering about earlier, I’m afraid I don’t remember. Did I make someone cry? Truly, it must have slipped my mind. Perhaps I need a reminder.”  

They stiffen up, because normally in high society, these underhanded remarks are rarely acknowledged face to face. You’re expected to play the long game and retort with passive-aggressive comments of your own, not call them out on their bullshit.  

You have to admit, pretending to be a villainess can be pretty fun at times.  

“I-I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” the woman mutters. She then gestures towards her lackeys, glaring at you before she leaves. “I believe a close friend of mine has just arrived. You’ll have to excuse us.”  

They leave without further issue, good riddance. It’s best to keep people like that at arm’s length. You do want to establish a better reputation for yourself, but if you let others walk all over you instead of holding your ground, you’ll never be taken seriously.  

Anyways, for obvious reasons, it looks like most people are avoiding you. Officially, your parents are the actual guests, but as their daughter, you’re expected to accompany them. They’ve already gone off to exchange niceties with the host of the evening, which fortunately leaves you free to do what you want.  

And right now, what you want is to have some of that expensive wine that everyone’s drinking.  

There are a few servants roaming around carrying trays stacked with alcohol, and you gingerly pick up a glass, smiling appreciatively.  

“Thank you,” you say, and the servant reacts by flinching in surprise. Being thanked by the villainess is probably just as big of a shock as being hit by a bus.  

He scurries off, and surprise, surprise—no one else has come to talk to you yet. You take a sip of the wine and let out a sigh. Well, this is fine. From what you remember, the villainess doesn’t have many actual friends, for obvious reasons. There are a few noblewomen who occasionally flock around her and help her harass the heroine, but those same noblewomen also talk shit about the villainess behind her back, so it’s hardly a genuine friendship.  

You decide to make like a wallflower for a bit and just observe. There’s a lot to be learned, after all. High society has all kinds of unwritten rules, and the more you know, the better you’ll fare.  

Okay, so… that dude is apparently having an affair. Everyone knows it, including his wife, but they’re pretending like it doesn’t exist. And that woman over there showed up wearing the same dress as someone else, which is apparently mortifying enough to quietly cry over.  

“This is all so confusing,” you mutter, taking another gulp of wine.  

“What’s confusing?”  

You squeal. You’re so startled that you nearly drop the glass of wine in the process, but fortunately, your amazing (self-proclaimed) reflexes kick in just in time.  

Some rude bastard just snuck up on you! The absolute nerve! You’re actually about to chew him out for it, since you nearly had a damn heart attack, but you stop yourself the moment you make eye contact.  

Standing before you is none other than the third and final love interest—Flynn Pearce.  

Flynn leans closer, tilting his head. “What’s so confusing? You look unusually focused. I noticed you standing over here and mumbling to yourself. You seem to be drinking much more slowly than usual too.”  

You press your lips together. The third love interest from the game, Flynn, is none other than the villainess’ close childhood friend. They basically grew up together. That’s how far back their friendship dates. This of course means that when he starts developing feelings for the heroine, someone that the villainess has decided she hates, she openly expresses her disapproval and makes efforts to keep the two of them apart.  

Flynn is an interesting character, because he’s a bit more morally gray than the other love interests. He is obviously aware of all the villainess’ flaws, but still defends her in the initial acts of his route, because of their long-standing friendship. Unlike Alistair, who is written to be charming, poised, and compassionate, or Carmine, who despises acts of injustice and can’t stand the villainess’ wrongdoings, Flynn isn’t meant to be so clear-cut. It takes a while for him to come to terms with his feelings for the heroine and realize how permissive he’s been of the villainess’ behavior over the years. His character arc leads him to realize how guilty he is by association, and after dealing with the self-loathing that comes with this realization, he eventually casts the villainess out of his life.  

This is the only ending where the villainess isn’t executed by Carmine. In an act of hateful desperation, she lunges at the heroine with a knife, fully intent on killing her.  

But the villainess obviously doesn’t succeed, and instead, she finds that same knife plunged into her chest.  

By none other than her dearest friend.  

You could argue that Flynn is the only real friend the villainess ever had, which could have potentially made her death more tragic, if not for the fact that she was horribly written and had no redeemable qualities.  

Anyways, that same friend is now standing right in front of you. Just like Carmine, if you make the wrong choices and somehow end up tangled in the plot, he too has the potential to end your life.  

It’s always fun staring death in the face.  

“Um, nothing really,” you say, doing your best not to openly grimace. “I was just thinking… that this wine is a weird choice. I’m not sure why they picked it. It’s a bit confusing, is all.”  

Flynn frowns. “I tried the wine. Didn’t you say before that it was one of your favorites?”  

“Oh. D-Did I? Well, maybe the batch is off or something. Either way, it’s not a big deal. I’ll drink it all the same.”  

To prove your point, you throw your head back and chug the rest of the wine. Come to think of it, you do recall that the villainess is a bit of a heavy drinker. You suppose you should do your best to play the part.  

You hoped that would put Flynn’s suspicions to rest, but instead, he narrows his eyes even further. 

“Not a big deal…? If the wine really wasn’t to your taste, surely you’d have more to say about it. Normally, you would have been more vocal about your complaints. I remember you once argued with the hosts for their poor choice of hors d’oeuvres.”  

You gape at him. 

Oh my god. Fuck you, shitty villainess! Why do you have to be such a massive asshole all the time? It’s impossible to meet your ridiculously trashy standards! 

“Ah, right,” you chuckle, hurrying to compose yourself. You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s true. To be honest, I have a lot of improvements in mind for tonight, but I’m rather tired. I just don’t have the energy to go and throw their mistakes in their face. Besides, incompetent people will never learn, I’m afraid. It’s just a waste of my time. Anyways. I’m off to go grab more wine! It may not be good, but it’s palatable, at the very least. I need something to keep me busy for the rest of this mind-numbing ordeal.”  

You leave without giving him another chance to comment. Shit! You weren’t expecting to run into him so soon, and you knew from the start that he’d be the most troublesome one to deal with, since he knows the villainess so well. It won’t be as easy to cut him out of your life as it was with Alistair and Carmine. You’ll need to avoid him to the best of your ability, but you just don’t know how.  

While you clumsily weave through all the people, freaking out internally, Flynn stares at you from afar, without blinking once.  

He purses his lips.  

“She’s… acting strange.”  

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[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

[ritunn]

Vile Beauty - A Look at the Elves of Lorwyn/Shadowmoor and Queerness

"Beauty determines values, and we determine beauty."

That's the flavor text that accompanies the card, Masked Admirers, a rare, now uncommon, elf that made its debut in Lorwyn. Flavor text that summarizes the views of the Lorwyn elves who we'll be revisiting next year.

Beauty Determines Value

I started playing MtG back in 2009 and I took a liking to the elf and kithkin tribes almost immediately. I was young enough that I didn't quite understand the social commentary being made by the writing behind the elves at the time, but it's something that's entranced me since then. In Lorwyn, the virtue often associated with elves, their unnatural beauty, has been twisted. The vain elves live in a hierarchical society where the most beautiful live on top and a single scar or blemish can ruin your life. While nature is nothing more but a tool to continue their harm of others or to be shaped to be as beautiful as them.

It's a strange society, but one that fits all too well with elves and the tropes we've come to associate with them. Though the twist of eyeblights, the name elves give to those too ugly to be anything else in elf society, but also what they call everyone else, adds an fun twist to the basic idea of "What if the beauty industry was a society?"

Eyeblights at best are treated as eye sores, creatures to be avoided if needed and an annoyance at worse. At worst, they are hunted for sport, blades slicing them in twain while the insidious moonglove poison kills them in seconds if that fails. This is often reserved for giants and boggards, the name for goblins, but they aren't above using these selfsame measure on other elves.

But for those elves who would reach so low as to become eyeblights, often due to disfigurement, purposeful or accidental, they are allowed to become nettelvine breeders. Nettlevine is a parasitic plant cultivated by the plane's elves that shortens the already short lifespan of elves, but also grants them great control over it, allowing them to make mockery of the plane's treefolk and devastate the enemies of the elves. But, what lays in the store for those elves who reach the pinnacle of beauty?

We Determine Beauty

Elvish society in Lorwyn is separated into four distinct classes, the faultless, immaculate, exquisite, and perfect.

Faultless: the lowest caste, the faultless meet a minimum threshold for beauty. They're without fault as the name suggests, but their beauty isn't anything better than what is expected for an elf and work the basic jobs required of society.

Immaculate: those who act as dignitaries for the elves. If you're cunning enough in addition to beautiful, you can reach the level of immaculate and attain some special privileges within elvish society.

Exquisite: second only to the perfect, elves who reach exquisite are masterful hunters and lead other elves in hunting excursions with packs of wolves to kill eyeblights. As dangerous as they are beautiful and the only caste below perfect with permission to speak to them.

Perfect: the most cunning of all elves and of transcendental beauty, perfects rule elf society in Lorwyn and have permission to kill anyone they'd like in a caste below them. Vicious and vain rulers of which only a few exist.

Eyeblights are not in the caste system. As mentioned before, these elves are either made into nettlevine breeders or killed. Even associating with creatures that aren't elves or using them to kill eyeblights such as one of the Lorwyn/Shadowmoor protagonists, Rhys, did can earn you the ire of other elves. Speaking of Rhys...

Rhys, the Exiled

Rhys was a student of Colfenor, an elder treefolk and the last yew treefolk. He taught him the secrets of yew poison magic and they'd maintain a psionic bond for life even when Rhys became an eyeblight hunter. His past of being associated with an eyeblight like Colfenor always earned him some contempt, especially from his superior, Nath. Nath was a more traditional elf, one who was quite annoyed when Rhys made use of a pair of giants to deal with goblin raiders after the hunting party's trap went wrong due to an inexperienced archer, an archer Nath cut down for his mistake. As such, Rhys and Nath had a tense relationship, one that broke when Rhys became one of the very eyeblights he hunted and his friend turned against him.

Nath had ordered Rhys to exterminate some peaceful goblins getting together for a story time festival. Despite Colfenor's pleas not to go through with it, he did and the attack went horribly wrong. The goblins turned feral and murderous due to the Great Aurora starting to begin, an event that inverts the traits of every race on the plane and brings eternal night. With little choice, Rhys unleashed the magic Colfenor taught him and killed everyone except for himself, his friend, and Nath. When he awoke, he found his horns destroyed. He had become an eyeblight and his friend and Nath had promised to slay him, but not before he was rescued by an elf named Maralen and a group of fey.

The rest of the story follows his adventures with Maralen of the Mournsong and the other adventurers on Colfenor's quest to continue to yew treefolk line and stop the Great Aurora, but this fall is what we care about. Rhys knew what was wrong but still went through with it anyway. Corrupted by the pressure of a society and willing to kill to maintain his position, only to lose it all. Though, when night comes the only true monsters on Lorwyn become its saviors.

Beauty is a Seed

The elves of Shadowmoor, the name the plane adopts when the Great Aurora brings eternal night, are an interesting contrast in the dark fairy tale feel the plane adopts during this phase. These elves are also obsessed with beauty, but the world itself has become as ugly as they were inside while phased to Lorwyn. Thus, there's the twist. They seek to preserve beauty, those little slivers left. Beauty is a seed, waiting to blossom under capable hands as the flavor text of Bloom Tender puts it. As everyone else becomes the monsters they believed them to be, they stopped hunting them. They hunted for beauty instead. No longer vain, they care for each other and see the seeds of light in the darkness. They see true beauty, of nature, of love, of life, and just want to protect it. There's something so kind about it, so heartwarming, a glimmer of hope in darkness, all ripped away when the morning tide washes away the darkness and things return to normal. We get a glimpse at what the elves could be, and in a way, it hurts.

Something I have yet to mention is the deer-like apperance of the elves. In Lorwyn, this soft apperance hides the truth: they are predators, hunters, to be feared, not prey. But on Shadowmoor, they are the prey, able to fight back, but prey nevertheless to hideous monsters like scarecrows, kelpie, deurgar, and the twistwed residents of Shadowmoor. They've become the ones they once hunted, the other, but for once, they're free of hierarchy and free to live life and dream for a better tomorrow and they revel in that. Rhys is able to find redemption in Shadowmoor, and embrace his true ideals. Night doesn't last forever though, and neither can this. But, I'm intrigued to see how it ends up being handled come 2025.

Toil to Renown

So, what do I love about the elves of Lorwyn/Shadowmoor? Well, they are quite pretty, I love the design, but these days, I think love that they're the very people that'd despise me. Being queer means to live outside the binary standards of beauty quite often. Some transphobes even go as far as to label others trans based off of very minute masculine or feminine traits that no one but them cares about. This leads to reinforcing gender stereotypes and leading to violence and/or vitriol against anyone who doesn't fit in. We become eyeblights, as does anyone who's cis and not quite the perfect model of their gender. All the while, people like Rhys, who don't totally agree, are browbeat into conforming and suffer for it when they too find out they will never live up to the standards of such wretched people. Whether they come out queer or simply have an accident.

But, I also love these elves, the ones on Shadowmoor, because I see myself in them too. I want to find the beauty in a cruel world that despises me and others I call friends and family and protect it with all my heart. Beauty isn't flawless skin and a sharp intellect, it's in a lonely flower blossoming, the laugh of someone you love, celebration of life. We fight every day to live and assure our continued existence in a world that despises us. Is that not reason to celebrate? Life may be grim, but there's beauty everywhere and we decide it ourselves. I hope WotC explores that duality again in 2025, because it's a beautiful message I've taken to heart for years. Thanks for reading.

[merakiui]

Omg that last thought tickled about sick reader w trey tickled me soooooooo good 😭

I raise you this!!! Darling hates the taste of medicine, so trey tells her he'll use his unique magic disguise it to have the flavour of her favourite juice. Little does she know, trey has literally just been giving her juice and lying about it being medicine the whole time 😭😭

Omggg and visits to Doctor Riddle??? Riddle is totally in on the whole thing and is secretly giving trey advice on how to keep you jussttt sick enough to keep you entirely dependent on him without putting you in any true danger. Maybe the two of them really crank up the dramatics by helping you to slowly get better, and then as soon as you start to misbehave too much, it's back to square one.

Sometimes your head gets so loopy and gone that while you let trey bathe you, you're not entirely aware of everything he's doing to your body 😭😭

You and that anon are so big brained for this. I really like this trope because I've always been quite sickly (it's something that seems to run in my family.) When I don't feel well I'm literally soooo whiney and clingy and I *need* someone to hold me, and I get the feeling that trey, Floyd, Riddle and rook in particular are the ones who would eat that shit up

OOOOOO YES YES OTL

It’s such a good trope, especially for Trey and (doctor) Riddle! They’re so logical and level-headed most of the time, but rational thought is thrown out the window when you come into the picture. Trey has done so much for Riddle, so Riddle feels as if he needs to return the favor somehow, even if that means compromising your health for the sake of returning goodwill. And you have to trust Doctor Riddle because of his credentials! He’s a doctor! He’d never lie to you! It’s his job to help you get better, and sometimes you do get better. But then you’ll push Trey away when he tries to get close to you or you’ll try to run away; and now you’re bedridden once again. :( it’s a vicious cycle you fail to realize because you’re so certain you just have poor health.

Omg and being unaware while Trey bathes you because your head is so foggy and you’re so sleepy… aaaaa normally Trey tries to be good and keep his hands to himself. He doesn’t want to do anything you might dislike him for, but you’re so out of it when you sit in the bath, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes. And he’s so tempted to do more than just washing. He limits himself to lingering touches when you’re in this state, his fingers never going any further than he intends them to. Though he wants to feel more of you, preferably inside you, he holds himself back. He likes you, and sometimes he feels guilty about that because he likes you too much.

Or maybe he holds himself back for all of one week before he realizes he can successfully get away with more than just groping. :) maybe he even knocks you up during one of these times and neither of you realize it until Trey starts suspecting it when you exhibit certain symptoms; and now suddenly your health is no longer declining. Now you have to be healthy and well for the baby, and Trey and Riddle can no longer keep you sick, lest they somehow harm the baby with their interferences.

Omg I agree that Rook and Floyd also work for this trope! Although I also feel like Jade enjoys it just a little more than Floyd. Floyd likes it when you’re needy and clingy; Jade likes the idea of being in total control of you when he intentionally makes you sicker and weaker. I also think Vil would be good for this trope! He knows his way around poisons and curses. :) he could easily utilize this knowledge to keep you just weak enough to rely on and love him while still allowing you to feel like yourself most of the time.

[dagaz-s-disastrous-descent]

Time to talk about my favorite sci-fi trope that is severely underutilized.

In most sci-fi stories involving aliens, humanity is the faction that is the underdog, the ones being hunted down by superior beings that are physically and sometimes mentally stronger than us. I think that it's a fairly boring take that has been overplayed to death throughout the ages.

What I propose instead is aliens are afraid of us; just think about it. The two main substances humanity needs to survive are water and oxygen. Both of those substances have great destructive power that we don't think about every day. Oxygen oxidizes stuff in your cells, which means that we are setting ourselves on fire (albeit on a very small scale) with every breath we take. Water is a combination of hydrogen, one of the most volatile elements out there, you know the stuff that STARS are made of, and the aforementioned oxygen. Our world is essentially hell, and we are all demons breathing fire and drinking death.

We are also a very war-like species, every few years we basically make our planet explode for no better reason than to earn a piece of land for "our own people", or to earn a few shiny coins or a piece of paper with no inherent worth, it's scary to think what we would be capable of if we faced true enemy, an existential threat, and not enemy we made ourselves out of greed or spite.

We also right now in our times wield terrible destructive power that can be summoned with a flicker of a wrist. Atomic bomb was invented before solar panels, we found a way to summon the core of a star to destroy each other before we found a easy way to turn natural power of the sun into hot water. It's utterly terrifying and fascinating to me.

Average human is also a fairly durable and tough creature, it takes more than you think to take us down if you don't know where to aim that. We also breed like rabbits so if you take one of us down ten more are ready to take their place.

I think that's why i love imperial guard so much, we are talking what is essentialy a modern-day army, just with better equipment going against horryfic xenos and still winning, still snaching bloodied victory from the vicious claws of defeat. We might not be the toughest or smartest species out there but the combination of our traits makes us one of the most powerful forces out there (if we ignore tyrandis but you can't get better than bioweapon mixed with cthulu tbh, that's a bit unfair comparison at the best of days)

If you are a creative type creating a sci-fi universe, don't be afraid of making humans the biggest badasses out there. We drink poison and we breathe fire and we should be proud of that!

[katyspersonal]

Rather late to the party my friend, my apologies.

For my headcannon submission, I choose a share a headcannon I've had since I first finished the game.

Starting with the Cleric Beast, we know that it is cannon it once was a member of the Church. More than likely someone completely unimportant lore wise. However it was one of the first bosses in the game that gave me this headcannon.

The Beasts we fight as bosses are twisted distortions of their desires given physical form via the beast blood.

I know, the "Inner Darkness" trope is very original but I like it.

Reinforcing this headcannon for me, is the man himself Laurence and how his "Meager Flames" could represent his "Smoldering ambition". Then there are the Abhorrent Beasts who are duplicitous by nature, the "Suspicious Beggar" being the prime example of this. Finally Blood Stained Beasts seem to represent what happens when one holds everything in, it becomes a poison that seeps out and into everyone and everything around them when the damn finally breaks.

Hope that you enjoyed this headcannon of mine.

o: You are not late, and these are very good ways to look at what determines the form of the beast! I like how the game is not fully clear on whether the type of the beast depends on the personality (or rather, what is repressed) of the person or is reactive to what kind of substance the person accepts, and how! It seems so far to depend on ...both?

I am currently mostly focusing towards "physical" determination; what kind of blood was taken, under what circumstances, for how long, but the "psychological" aspect can't be removed fully I think? Following the idea that Vermin is a real thing and reflects the human dregs, I once made the observation that Old Hunters who drop it have red eyes same as Abhorrent Beasts, so perhaps this is true that they are the most vicious people. Vicious enough to have the same mind as a beast as they had as a man, and shift on will. With Laurence's fires, it additionally could reflect his sheer desperation to still keep his humanity. Most beasts are scared of fire, and I always thought the bandages various hunters and Amelia wear are to cover the self-inflicted burns to 'ward off' the beasthood! So maybe he just was realizing he was at the very brink and so, so, so, SO desperately wanted to banish the beasthood from himself that it manifested as the thing the beast is supposed to fear 🤔

Also:

The man himself actually confirms your vision in the interview ( x )! Only, he seems to apply the idea of "they are the most awful because they hold back the strongest" to Cleric Beasts! Perhaps, Blood-Starved Beasts could be a reflection of not simply self-repressing too much, but also giving away self-destructively? It also seems to be literal - the beast itself has skin shedded, and there is a crucified beast of this type in Old Yharnam! But uh... if you ever knew a very "selfless" person that denies EVERYTHING to themselves and only gives to others, you know those people are very unstable and start doing more harm than good due to how much strain they put themselves into. Many of them DO become toxic... but metaphorically. xD And in Bloodborne world, it is literal too!

Anyways, thank you for the ideas, this is very interesting to think!

[saincorner]

𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚑𝚠𝚊 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: S-class Hunter Doesn't Want to be a Villainous Princess

* * * *

* * *

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿(𝘀): Haegangn / 해강

𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁(𝘀): Hash / 해시

𝗧𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗵𝗶𝗻: Manhwa

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Ongoing

* * *

𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:

She had transmigrated into a hunter constellation fantasy novel, and after 10 years, she finally attained the No.1 Hunter ranking and cleared the tower…

But now she transmigrated into a Romance-Fantasy novel as an exalted and infamously evil princess?

【The ‘Vicious Blood Cult’ asks where on earth are we.】

【The ‘Monarch of Waves and Healing’ is confused.】

【The ‘Lord of Temptation’ is delighted with the familiar world.】

But if you look closely, this princess doesn’t usually live a bad life, does she? Every day, there are assassination attempts and all kinds of schemes…

【The ‘Vicious Blood Cult’’s skill ‘Unsinkable Poison’ LV.999 purifies the Mandrake’s poison!】 【The ‘Monarch of Waves and Healing’’s skill ‘Blessing of Water’ LV.999 heals wounds perfectly!】 【The ‘Lord of Temptation’s skill ‘Temptation of Sleep’ LV.999 puts the assassin to sleep!】

But, what the hell. Everything’s so dull compared to my previous life.

I planned to leisurely clear my missions while savoring the moments when I’d be able to take a break and rest,

But now, her older brothers and the male lead, who had previously tormented the villainess, began to follow me around…

I will take revenge for you and grant you everything you want, so damn system, please send me back home!

* * * *

* * *

I swear to God, the artist for this manhwa has a taste for stories that subvert the original tropes of a genre, and I'm totally here for it!

First, we have "Beware of the Villianess," a manhwa that satirizes the reverse harem aspect of certain romance novels. And now we have "S-class Hunter Doesn't Want to Be a Villainous Princess," a manhwa that fuses both the Villainess and Tower-Defense genres together to deliver an interesting narrative that combines both tropes for our entertainment.

It's a familiar yet compelling babasahin that keeps veteran readers invested in the story, but it's also digestible enough for newcomers to observe. Inside, you can also see a notable commentary on class differences and power dynamics and how they can negatively affect a person's life and behavior. One such example is Reene, the original Villainess in the story. 

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenyra was usurped, half of her children were killed, here and there betrayals and other troubles, two bastards, to whom she gave huge dragons, betrayed her, Mysaria was poisoning her mind, but God forbid, if she rejects the idea that the last close person betrayed her and thinks that other riders can follow these two and betray her as well.

*EDIT (12/17/24):

I agree and disagree. There's other layers to be had.

Rhaenyra suffers from really bad sexist writing on GRRM's, not just the maesters', part and it undermines his own point.* And no, she doesn't need to be necessarily "moral" like Dany to be a deserving ruler if we're talking about how society creates its rulers and what it expects fdrom them and what does that mean for the "traps" it makes to keep vicious cycles alive for power.

I never claimed her to be a morally good person or to be morally equal to Dany. This is not Rhaenyra's role. Yes, she--unlike Nettles--shows how wit and compassion does "save" not only the compassionate leader, but those they are responsible for. She both shows how patriarchal violence doesn't care if you are Saint Mary AND how it is only by wit and genuine compassion that you may relieve yourself, as a woman, from falling into that trap. Rhaenyra's voluntarily compelled to fall back on her class as most women like Cersei and Alicent do against the sexism; it comes with consequences but it also doesn't mean we ignore the sexism just as we don't ignore/discredit racism if a black man/woman were to be homophobic or sexist themselves.

The point of her story was to highlight how no matter how good or evil or morally ambiguous a person you are, if you are female, you are subject to losing a power men are just granted. Or usurped. And this is inherently wrong. Rhaenyra chose to go to war rather than give up. This is valuable & still an important an salient note to consider here. Visenya was not thinking "for the realm" or for the benefit of smallfolk or outside of her family, yet she as so many fans bc she was not passive or restricted by "madness". She has less sexist writing.

..................................................................................

Back to this ask---Definitely a response to this post.

Have you read my Twitter post about Rhaenyra & Nettles, anon? I suggest you do, it is a shorter explanation. This is going to be my only open, detailed, & calm explanation about it here on Tumblr. And I hope that people bother to read all this.

It's like when we come across either an accomplished/just a "cool" OR someone who has struggled against one form of societal oppression (ex. sexism) but still has performed oppressive acts themselves (homophobia). AKA, someone like Black female rapper I forget the name of who's homophobic.

Pre-Points

First, what SeptonEustace says Rhaenyra/Mysaria said and did in F&B's account (w/Nettles) is in the same field as racism/miosgynoir in the same way we could also say that it was run-of-the-mill classism, because yes upper-classed/aristocratic classed AND white/white-adjacent women in those classes of Europe can and have used "witch" accusations or re-characterizations against those women who either happened to be pale or darker skinned....as long as they were known as the underclassed.

As a Black woman, I can see the original classist formula used against underclassed peasant white women in Europe (think of how Alys Rivers may not have actually been a witch but only called that bc she was in a relationship w/Aemond) for the development of the black Jezebel trope that will be used against Black women until it was also applied to other PoC women. Nettles was described as "brown", which could go for any sort of PoC/Black person, or a darker skinned white person...that's just how BR/GR European looked at Italian/Spanish/Med Europeans in the earliest forms of the racism.

She is described as "black-haired, brown-eyed, brown-skinned, skinny, foul-mouthed, fearless" in "The Red Dragon and the Gold". That could go for "Black" (which in this world is Summer Islanders), or "brown" people, and the Dornish are not PoCs even with their "olive" tones. GRRM conceives them as Med Europeans:

NEVERTHELESS!!! What if we trust what Septon Eustace tells us is what rhaenyra said abt Nettles, Rhaenyra still is either being racist, xenophobic, or severely classist. And the trope is used in all these scenarios and they are interwoven for how they are used against Black, PoC, and non white, non upper-classed women.

The Black Jezebel stuff, that sort of thing still happens today: a white woman/girl who sees a black woman/girl become the center of attention or otherwise receive the admiration/attraction from a white man and they try their best to slander the black woman or "persuade" the white man/boy away from the black woman/girl, trying to convince them that the black woman is an undesirable match but also person. To reestablish white dominance by "reclaiming" the white man. Because the white woman depended on the white man for access to many rights or privileges due to their society baring them of those rights due to their gender. And the (richer or "midclassed") white man, in the U.S. esp, has had the highest positions, the most money reserved, and the most political power/privileges/rights. Thus, that will come with the psychological games to feel more in control. Again, in both romantic/sexual & in platonic contexts.

Why should the blood purity Rhaneyra displays be relegated under her grief? Why isn't blood purity recognized as its own entity, as a thing with its own origins and role in Rhaenyra's downfall? Yes, she is a victim of misogyny, but she is also a perpetrator of misogynoir as white women often can be when the "threat" of a sexual competitor appears as the differently-objectified, more vulnerable Black woman. If fans of her story and Fire and Blood and ASoIaF can see that Rhaenyra's paranoia partly causes her downfall towards the very final months, why isn't it the same for her clear blood purity? This is the same blood purity that Rhaneyra's society/family passes down to her--that she uses to try to gain back and maintain power both immediately and by large. Why then do people try to separate the two as if they aren't connected and inform the other to bring her down?

-- not "inform the other"... rather "the grief loosens deeply embedded blood purity because that what emotional distress can do, get people to slip and reveal stuff --

Has to be because they aren't familiar with racism for Black women, or American history, and/or don't want it to color or affect how they define their own politics and everyday lives. To not have that sort of burden or implication of responsibility. Participation in society requires this confrontation and acknowledgment, the process of social change requires it. And of course that some in the fandom may just be racist and want to hide while performing it to continue it.

Either way, with this AND what I will describe below, those who dislike or can find no/less sympathy for Rhaenyra specifically because of how she handled Nettles very much have that right. They--and I--are warranted.

IF it is true that Rhaenyra actually said those things that Septon Eustace--who in the same paragraphs--also says that Mysaria was witchlike in how she somehow managed to convince Rhaenyra Nettles was a threat by using a Jezebel-narrative's imagery of Nettles beign pregnant w/Daemon's child. When you go back to Princess and the Queen, Rhaenyra never says these words and Mysaria never says what she says...curious.

The History of the Black Jezebel (this is All Under the Assumption and Scenario that Rhaenyra DID say What She Said abt Nettles, btw)

Jezebel is a Christian biblical figure that traditionally's been used to connote female wickedness and (later sexual) duplicity:

According to the Bible (Kings I and II), she provoked conflict that weakened Israel for decades by interfering with the exclusive worship of the Hebrew god Yahweh, disregarding the rights of the common man, and defying the great prophets Elijah and Elisha.

Here's the thing, black women--esp in American history AND currently, are often dehumanized into sexual creatures. Similar and borrowing from already existing socio-Christian ideas of [white] women being themselves inherently sexually deviant because Eve was "manipulated" or just was to blame for both her and Adam failing and being cast out of the Garden of Eden.

After the consolidation of the slave trade and European expansion/colonization, the colonized or nonChristian women received differentiation from the Christian/European in the new patriarchal/colonist matrix. It is also here where the prior Christianness of the white women got subsumed by her non-brown/Africanness. Only recently (beginning around the Victorian era) that modern white women granted the "inherently modest, sexually chaste and domestic goddess (if faithful)" assignment. The perfect mothers in the invented "private", domestic space. We also have the stereotype of the Femme Fatale, the woman as capable & powerful enough to destroy the social order and sanctity of "good" white families/society. Families and societies are headed by white (cis het) men. The "opposite" of the domestic goddesses and her more modern products (like Girl Next Door).

Yes, either way, white women's statuses' (legally and otherwise) remained defined as subordinate to men. Yes, there's still this tendency for women to be called sluts for not being "faithful" or having "high(er)" so-called body counts that stem from the Eve-Domestic-goddess pipeline. Yes, there is certain element of lack of self-restraint in the Eve-evil/Femme Fatale white woman. What makes the white Seductress/Femme Fatale different than the Black Jezebel is that Black women are thought closer to animals in need of white guidance. For their political and (coming from colonialism) spiritual development.

Going back to making white, Christian women "different" from the non-Christian African women used as slave labor. White women at least have the sociopolitical privilege of being the incubators of men's heirs and later in history, domestic goddesses (ironic wording). Black women and girls are animalistically and inherently lewd, being of a people (ethnic group) themselves inherently without proper civilization that began with heir absence of Christianity/God.

And with that element of control over African bodies and defining/validating their place in European and white colonial territories, the ideological, anxiety-mystique precursor of the Black Jezebel slowly forms. Esp when entering into real chattel slavery enslaved Africans could become Christian to legally free themselves--for a time in the colonies and from tradition, no Christian could be enslaved. Africans being able to become Christian and then free themselves made white people lose their source of slave labor. After slavery and the slave trade were abolished, Jim Crow and several different laws/measures prevented most Black people (esp in the South but also in many North places) from accumulating either wealth or political power. and even here, the true stereotype of Jezebel came into its own and got its name from several comedic/sensationalist pieces of media. Sex and magic and femininity are partially combined in media because of the anxiety towards magic in Christian Europe and women having independent power apart from the powers and privileges granted to them by patriarchal institutions. (The images and meanings of its positivity or negativity depend on how its portrayed, the main perspective[s], and how these things create the values of the conflict in different stories with magic and womanhood.)

Africans who were not Christian and were sold/grew up as enslaved persons or their descendants can easily qualify as practicing "witchery", though their own religions/ancestor worship/rituals are neither inferior nor superior to any other. And it wasn't that long into the slave trade that Africans became inherently different even if Christian, racially different from white Christians by law and successful domination. Therefore, in maintaining control over the Black female body and its meaning, Jezebel has elements of evil sorcery, to be used and implied through that element of the capability to "ruin" whiteness and white families.

It has the social purpose of justifying sexual objectification, sex trafficking, the invisibility of Black women's thoughts and emotions, etc. while still assigning the blame for violence from white people (esp men) to these women and girls. If you can do that, then it doesn't really matter that this young girl goes missing. It doesn't matter as much when she's raped by a police officer and sometimes it's never even put into the news or revealed until a couple of decades later.

And it becomes just one of many unspoken justifications to disable Black political power or dignity today. For Black women, with deep psychological consequences that look different from a white woman's.

Mysaria & Rhaenyra's Actions Toward Nettles and Blood Purity (this is All Under the Assumption and Scenario that Rhaenyra DID say What She Said abt Nettles, btw)

Under the condition that Septon Eustace wasn't lying about how Mysaria convinced Rhaenyra against Nettles/Rhaenyra choosing to target Nettles after misogynoirist language (bc he hates Rhaenyra and uses language that could be easily be coming from him):

So even though Westeros has no slave trade (though a few do participate in its commerce if not directly own any) and they haven't colonized any Sothryos, Ib, Naath, etc regions nor other "PoCs" (yet) blood purity can't really be separated from racism at a certain point or with some instances.

It's very clear that GRRM has Rhaenyra use blood purist terminology and ideology when she says "stink of sorcery" and "common thing" and "You only need to look at her to know she has no drop of dragon's blood", "thrall", "low creature", and "spells that bound a dragon to her, and she has done the same with my lord husband". Whether he did it unconsciously or not (and I think he did it consciously and with intent). Rhaenyra doesn't use such language with the Velaryon/Hull bastards as often as with Nettles, whose color AND baseborneness Rhaenyra uses to characterize her.

We know Mysaria is the architect of her would-have-been demise:

Rhaenyra's suspicion of Nettles takes on a different flavor, an intensity than the one she had for Addam and Alyn Velaryon after the Two Betrayers. Grief doesn't excuse nor erase the presence of blood purity, and blood purity facilitates grief's/need for control's worst, willful actions. If she hadn't used colorist and blood purist sentimentality in her explanation in going after Nettles, then, anon, we'd go by your assessment.

She's expressing a certain kind of casual yet sharp hatred for Nettles that goes beyond betrayal but also has the cognitive dissonance present in justifying said hatred. That comes with the anxiety of someone "not one of 'us' (Andal-FM Westerosi of the paler skin variety)" nevertheless having some sort of control or access to the power (here dragons and a lover-defender) associated and historically reserved for Targaryens. The vivid sexual imagery in "your husband's bed", "his bastard in her belly", words like "thrall" and "bound", all connote a possessiveness and loss of control that trigger Rhaenyra into acting. (Remember that Mysaria was going to have Daemon's baby way back until Viserys inadvertently caused her miscarriage when he exiled her).

One could argue that Rhaenyra's suspicious hatred for Nettles (even with her probably never got to know her like maybe Jace, though this really should clue one into discrimination) stems from Nettles seemingly keeping Daemon, the love of her life and main emotional support. That she was just afraid of losing that on top of her sons' lives and her trust in her closer advisors and thus needed to know she had a semblance of the past in actually seeing Daemon. However, Daemon is also one of her means of gaining and maintaining political power. He acted as one of her chief military commanders if he leaves her, it may have sort of sucked out the sense of his faith in her, made almost meaningless their past. And not really wanting to confront that, she used blood purity and misogyny (the text shows the precursors to misogynoir) against Nettles.

It's almost like Aerys II after Duskendale in that way, that personal decay, pressure to maintain control over those sworn to take back/maintain her throne. Nevertheless the constant feeling of vulnerability to others not being so honest with her, the mistrust sliding into paranoia and only compounded with grief. This makes it even easier to take the "easy" ways out, i.e., executions of "the least important" persons. She's still much more powerful than Nettles (in terms of privilege) to then be entrusted with said power to victimize someone like Nettles. Even when she has suffered so. Nettles would have lost her life.

This hatred, though "casual" in how easy it was for her to use it in language, is used to characterize Nettles as a "special" sort of evil in continuance with Mysaria's vivid sexual imagery and has dire and nearly fatal consequences for Nettles. See that disparity, the privilege Rhaenyra has and is using against someone like Nettles? We can't make it the same as the one she does against the other bastards. Especially since unlike both of them, Nettles is executed. Addam and Alyn were imprisoned or to be imprisoned truly only on account of Corlys and the Velaryons. This shows more of Nettles' sociopolitical vulnerability getting dismissed in lieu of the image and sense of control.

Ironically, Rhaenyra's own sons have been targeted for something similar, as her youngest Joffrey at least is noted for having nontypical Targ features. Remember that cognitive dissonance I mentioned? The fact that her sons all were able to ride dragons helps them have a better chance at happiness and survival, but Rhaenyra is less concerned with Nettles' wellbeing and contributions to keep said boys alive and alive to be her heirs, supporting her claim. And that blood purity honestly is just as much a part of Targ monarchy as it is for Andal-FM aristocracy, especially with the dynasty having mostly assimilated to the Faith/Andal-FM culture. Whether unconsciously or semiconsciously, she takes advantage of that extant paradigm.

And notice how he emphasized Mysaria's "skin as pale as milk" and "hooded robe of black velvet lined with blood-red silk" that contrasts against Nettles' brownness and past bedraggled clothing from her time being alone in the streets. Paleness is often described both in ASoIaF and the real-Western world as a marker of feminine beauty. And we know that Mysaria is unlikely to have been aristocratic herself--having been first a dancer, then a sex worker in Lys and KL. Gyldayn theorized that Nettles did sex work (therefore "impure" and unattractive to Daemon) to survive and get sheep for Sheepstealer and thus explain how she bonded with the dragon and thus tried to reduce the phenomena and its possible implications about Targs and dragon bonds, rationalizing her connection to Sheepstealer, & denigrating her character.

Mysaria, the more "obvious" Valyrian-descent beauty vs Rhaenyra--another, more obvious Valyrian beauty with an actual dragon vs Nettles, undetermined-descent-yet-doubted-bc-of-blood-purist-politics having her own dragon.

Though Westeros is not medieval Europe and the world is not the direct equivalent of either ancient or medieval societies...it shares much. And this, the blood purity, is one of the "much".

BTW, while the blood purity is worst for Nettles, this doesn't mean I think Rhaenyra didn't perform blood purity against the rest of the dragonseeds. Nor that her decisions concerning Rosby/Stokeworth were not bad political choices.

*EDIT* (8/21/23):

THIS is a great post by @mononijikayu about medieval queens, female rulers, the history of how women in leadership positions were made and seen as threats to the very structure of social "order", and contextualizing Rhaenyra thru Empress Matilda. I didn't even know about Matilda's husband being comparable to Rhaneyra's Daemon! PLZ READ!!!!

Excerpt:

just as much, along with these fictitious portrayals, more lies are depicted. these women are considered vixens that cause havoc to men by shifting them into desires and danger. through the written word, we see how women are cast in roles of villains in men’s lives. it is because by their conclusive thoughts, women are the only creatures that are able to turn ‘good honorable men’ into despicable creatures who do shameful, deplorable acts for the sake of women’s pleasures.  it is within this narrative that ancient chroniclers declare that women were in fact the doom of men. if they were not able to control the dangers posed by the wiles of women, then the foundations of the mighty society they had built would be up in flames.  [...] as i mentioned, these factors of community are written down and preserved. and with that, the example of the ancients were the foundations by which medieval society built itself. the same concepts continued to cause the same issue within society and that was the exclusion of women from participating in the bigger picture of community and state, much so with governing states in their own right—without judgment or disapproval. 

[a-s-fischer]

So I am a non-thiestic Jew, which means I don't believe Lilith, or any comparable figures, exist, which is why I felt able to offer a few alternate folkloric figures. I am not genuinely afraid of anyone attracting the attention of a hostile, powerful, and vicious, mother and baby killing night spirit.

But yeah, according to the folklore of Lilith, which is inextricably Jewish, Lilith is a murderer of babies and pregnant and laboring women. She is the folkloric personification of maternal and infant mortality. She is the folkloric personification of SIDS. She is the folkloric personification of waking up to find your child dead in their crib. She is the folkloric personification of dying in agony days after you brought a child into the world, as your blood is poisoned with septic shock. She is the folkloric personification of finding out you were pregnant as you are miscarrying, bleeding and crying from the pain of your body expelling the child you didn't even know you were carrying.

The people who want to worship Lilith are people who at least nominally believe in mysterious and potentially dangerous powers, and if I were one of them, Lilith is not the kind of figure I would want to draw the attention of. But I can actually understand the impulse, and I can understand wanting to confront and work with the personification of that kind of fear and pain. Which is why I laid out alternates.

The problem is a lot of the Gentiles who want to work with or worship Lilith are very insistent that actually the Jews are lying about her. The people from whom's culture the figure that you are trying to work with or worship derives, are wrong about her and lying about her. And I have two things to point out about this particular logic. The first and the simplest, is that if I were a baby and gestating parent murdering demon, who wanted a bunch of people to worship them, and leave themselves open to my influence, that is exactly what I would want them to think.

The second is where my non-theistic Jewish concern with the worship of Lilith really comes from. And it's that bit where the Jews are lying. Christians have been accusing the Jews of lying about their deity figure for almost two millennia, as a way of dealing with the challenge posed, as early Christians viewed it, by the continued existence of Jews and Jewish interpretations of their shared holy texts. And this idea has dug deep into the psyche of the historically Christian world. Witches and neopagans absorb this idea, this trope, that Jews lie about other people's gods, that Jews lie about their own traditions to deny other people's gods, from the culture around them without even realizing it, or identifying it as the traditional Christian antisemitism that it is.

And in this case, with Lilith, this idea gets combined with another popular little Christian antisemitic trope that has dug its way deep into the psyche of the historically Christian world. And that idea is one that I have seen Christians and people from the Christian world, from every branch, and no branch, and from every political persuasion use, the idea that Jews and Judaism are somehow responsible for everything that a given Christian might dislike about Christianity, which has morphed into everything that a given person might dislike about society. This is a great idea, for the Christians at least. One of the niftiest tricks Christians ever pulled was convincing themselves, and lots of other people, that any problem they might have with Christianity or Christian society, this small marginalized minority was to blame. It's been really useful to Christianity and to the historically Christian world to have a scapegoat, which is one of the many reasons antisemitism has such staying power. "The violent Old Testament God is the reason XYZ Christian thing exists and it is bad," is the classic example, but popular political examples are right wing Gentiles insisting that communism is the Jews fault, or left-leaning Gentiles insisting that the Jews are all greedy capitalists. The key is that whatever you think the problem in society is, it's the Jews fault.

And one specific iteration of this is that during the 60s and 70s, among certain feminist thinkers, the idea arose that before Judaism brought monotheism to the world, the patriarchy didn't exist. This is absolute historical hogwash. The ancient people who we now call the Jews were of course a deeply patriarchal society, but so were all of the other societies around them, whether or not they worshiped powerful goddesses. Inanna/Ishtar was a certified badass, but that didn't make Mesopotamian civilization any less male-dominated. Athena was a powerful war goddess, and she was the eponymous divine patron of a city with one of the most misogynistic societies ever to develop.

But the fact that this was historical hogwash did not mean that this idea that Jews and monotheism were responsible for the patriarchy didn't have a lot of popularity and prominence during the second wave feminist movement, especially in people who floated to the spiritual side of that movement, ie goddess worship, witchcraft, certain forms of neopaganism. This is the context in which Lilith entered the Gentile witchy and neopagan consciousness.

So Lilith's appeal to a lot of Gentile witches and neopagans, both at the time and now, relies on the idea of "reclaiming" her as the fierce Goddess that she's supposedly is, from those evil patriarchal Jews who clearly have been lying about her, to slander her divine feminine awesomeness. This is the subtext to the ask I answered above in the original post.

So when I wrote my post about three different alternatives to Lilith for Gentile witches and/or neopagans: https://a-s-fischer.tumblr.com/post/724297755667873793/yo-i-had-this-queued-and-didnt-realize-it-was I wrote describing alternatives which were similar to the Jewish folkloric version of Lilith, not the Lilith described in the previous paragraph. As such I was very aware of the fact that there were going to be plenty of Gentile witches and neopagans for whom none of the figures I suggested would be in any way appealing. I knew this because of something that I don't actually see talked about very often in discussions of cultural appropriation. We usually talk about it as the appropriators seeing something shiny in a culture that is not their own, that they want to use or experience. We talk about it as if the appeal were in the thing being taken, and this is true a lot of the time. But sometimes, the appeal is in the act of taking.

And the appeal, for a lot of people who venerate or want to work with Lilith, is in the antisemitism, whether they realize it or not. The appeal is in the ability to fall back on those old comfortable habits of mind absorbed from Christianity: the habits of mind that go "The Jews are lying about our glorious Goddess/Lord and savior, because she/he stood against their evil patriarchy/hypocracy and corruption." It's about leaving Jesus and the trappings of Christianity behind, without leaving behind that sense of safety and control that comes with having a scapegoat.

It feels good when you can blame those big systematic problems that you can't really do anything about on a person or a group of people, especially if that group of people is comfortably Other. It means you don't have to look at how you might be complicit in those big societal problems, as well as victimized by them, and it means you know who to hate. It means that you are striking a blow for justice and for your people when hurt the group you have designated are to blame, even if nothing ever changes, and the only thing you did was cause other people pain. Yes, those habits of mind sure are comfortable, and Christians have been killing us over them for as long as they've had institutional power. You can imagine that most Jews are not stoked to see a new group take them on and play them out.

And it's only within this framework, this conspiratorial antisemitic framework, that the idea that the Jews are lying about a figure from Jewish folklore, for whom that folklore is the only source, makes any sense at all, and it's only within this framework that Gentiles taking that figure, divorcing her completely from her folkloric roots, and then worshiping her as a goddess, would even be appealing. It's for this reason that the prominence of Lilith worship in the witchy and neopagan communities, deeply troubles me.

“Lilith is part of a closed religious practice” except it’s not appropriation to worship her as that is not practice what is within the closed practices of judaism :) Lilith is not an exclusive figure! Lilith is open

So according to your logic, it's okay to worship Lilith because she isn't worshiped in Judaism so therefore worshiping her isn't cultural appropriation. So if I a completely non-Native American/First Nations person were to start worshiping the W*ndigo, that would be completely fine, and not at all cultural appropriation, and not deeply fucked up, because W*ndigos are not worshiped in any of the cultures that have them as part of their cosmology and traditions. And I'm sure that the people from the various cultual groups that originated the W*ndigo, who tell me that doing that would be deeply deeply fucked up, and culturally appropriative, are just wrong and harshing my squee.

Don't incorperate Lilith into your practice if you aren't Jewish, and worshiping the demons from other cultures is no less culturally appropriative because they aren't worshiped in their home cultures. Hope that clarifies things! :)

[nanamisbbygirl]

requests are open right? it’s completely fine if not !! but could u do nanami being really stressed and overwhelmed with work (it could be the office work or jujutsu, whatever u please :)) and he’s just been bottling up his frustration, finally he snaps and takes it out on the (gn!) reader? like he just starts yelling and adding a few untrue things against you (all out of anger, u could leave this part out if u want). but immediately after he regrets it and comforts the reader. i’m sorry if this is long 😭 no rush tho! take ur time, tysm <33

includes: nanami kento x gn! reader

type: drabble (hurt/comfort + fluff)

a/n: omg yes, this is my favourite fanfic trope!! sorry for the late response my love! hope you enjoy!!

for two weeks straight nanami's boss had him working overtime. and he. hated. it. he could hardly strand being stuck in that godforsaken cubical as it was but now it was just too much stress. everyday he'd go home with his aching back and bags forming under his eyes, just for you to take care of him.

he was always so, so grateful to you because of it that, so as he stands before you, anger getting the best of him, he can't even process his thoughts to try and stop himself.

"you know what, y/n i don't really care-- I'm tired enough as it is, can you please just stop talking." nanami snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

at the same time, you felt your jaw snap shut, eyes widening at what he had said. still, you didn’t want to let him talk to you like that, especially after you told him you were scared people found you too loud and overbearing. “if you’re so tired why don’t you just go to bed?” you respond, which only lit up another fire inside nanami. 

“can’t i just sit on the couch and relax? isn’t it my house too? i’m tired and you know that so why can’t you just let me be? you’re giving me a headache, so just stop bothering me, please.”

there was poison in his tone. he had never talked to you like this before. usually when he has a rough day he mentions it to you, which always leads to you helping him through it. yet, he was vicious which directly stung your heart. you pressed your lips together, feeling something swirl inside your gut as your hands ball up into fists. 

you didn’t want to show him that he had gotten the best of you, not trying to bother him anymore with your tears. “fine,” you mumbled before making a b-line for you bedroom. 

considering the mood he was in, you didn’t think he was going to enter you bedroom anytime soon, giving you the chance to sink your face into your pillow, letting your stray tears stain it. 

just as you thought you would slip into a saddened sleep, there was a faint knocking at your door. you didn’t respond to it, though, trying you best to contain your tears, sniffling and rubbing your bloodshot eyes.

“y/n…” nanami had let himself in, watching as you were curled up on your shared bed. again, you didn’t respond, not even a quiet ‘go away, i’m not in the mood to talk.’

he was drowning in guilt, he shouldn’t have raised his voice, shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. he wanted to apologize but as he crouched by the bedside he knew there wasn’t an excuse for how he treated you.

even as you looked at him, puffy and swollen face, he felt his heart sink. “i’m sorry, my love.” he spoke softly while all you could do was continue to sniffle as any rebuttals remained trapped in your throat.

“i know i hurt your feelings.” he placed his hand gently on your thigh, somewhat expecting you to flinch or reject his touch. yet as you eased into him, it gave him a tad bit more confidence to continue. “i know it’s no excuse but you have no idea how stressed i’ve been. it’s not your fault though, and you can’t imagine how sorry i am to have snapped like that.”

you pouted, “you hurt my feelings a lot.” you were on the verge of tears again, watching him rise and side on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hand up and down your back.

“i know,” he cooed. “i’ll do anything to make it up to you: order in? run you a bath? watch a movie? anything you want”

sitting in silence for a moment, contemplating your options. “a bath sounds nice, but will you come in with me?” with those pleading eyes, there was no way nanami would’ve even considered saying no. 

“of course.” he brought the back of your hand up to his mouth, giving it a kiss, “i’ll go now and get it started for us.” 

[howtofightwrite]

I had always wondered about a certain aspect in martial arts or combat media that features some martial arts, and that is the "evil" or "dark" style that is considered reprehensible and immortal, and the style is... using guns, poisons, bombs, traps, hidden weapons, and so on. Every time there's a battle with such practitioners, they always gets called "dishonorable" or "evil" or maybe even cowardly. But then you also have "if this was a real fight, you'd be dead" trope when it comes to something like a mock duel vs a duel to the death, which often shows how in a "real fight" there's no use for honor and such and would often have the protagonist of such genre be fighting as dirty as possible and be treated as badass. My question then is... well, what exactly is "honor" in a fight? Isn't "dirty tricks" like sands in the eyes to resolve combat as quickly as possible the most desired trick? What exactly should be the balance between "pragmatism" and "honor", whatever the latter is?

Okay, so, I'll have to level with you, I have never heard of a martial arts style that considers IEDs as an important technique. Also, martial arts that incorporate firearms are more of a myth than reality. There are disarms, but there's no such thing as a, "gun kata." That's pure fiction.

Honor isn't about good and evil, it's not about right and wrong: Honor is about threat control. Honor is defined by those in power, and then applied to those below them, to ensure they cannot rise up and disrupt the status quo.

"The only unfair fight is the one you lose," thought process comes out of the understanding that giving your foe a fair chance to kill you is an utterly terrible idea. Especially against a better trained and better equipped foe, getting into a stand-up fight is suicidal.

It's dishonorable to run from a fight? Who does this benefit? Dying because you wouldn't break and escape just means you're dead.

It's dishonorable to attack someone from behind? Again, this only really benefits your foe. It's about tricking you into putting yourself into a more vulnerable position.

But, why is this a rule? Why is it dishonorable to stab someone in the back, but not to stab them in the face? In the distant past, when nobles fought on the battlefield, stabbing someone in the back meant you didn't know who you had just killed. However, if you saw their face before killing them, it meant you could properly assess whether they were one of the enemy nobles, meaning they should be ransomed back, rather than summarily killed on the battlefield. It made the battlefield less dangerous for the nobility, but no safer for the peasantry, and also helped to further enrich the winning nobles. But, of course, the person who is expected to behave, "honorably," was the conscripted foot soldier, who would see no benefit from, "being honorable," but may face harsh retribution if they killed someone they shouldn't have.

(This, also explains a large part of why guns and bombs can be considered dishonorable. These are indiscriminate, and therefore, a threat to those who set the rules.)

Honor is meaningless to a corpse. However, if you're in a position of power, dishonor is incredibly valuable. Dishonor becomes a tool to politically weaken (or in some cases outright eliminate) a threat. Dishonor can be applied through mere allegations. Dishonor can also apply social stigmas, and if it applies to a family, can be used to undermine entire factions.

Because it's dishonorable to lie, all but your most transparent lies can be used to implicate, and dishonor, your potential rivals. Best of all, questioning the honor of the powerful is often behavior that permits immediate, and vicious, retribution. So, even if someone does realize you're lying through your teeth, it gives you the pretext to eliminate them.

Honor is not, and never has been, about being a good person. It was never about morality or ethics. It is a weapon, wielded by those in power, against those beneath them. The first, and most effective lie honor presents is the idea that this is about being a good person. It is insidious, because, for the person with good intentions, it will lead them to punish themselves, if they step out of line.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to do the right thing. In many cases, that is laudable. However, honor is a about perverting that into a system where you will voluntarily hand advantage to your foes,

This isn't just codes of honor. Laws (both secular and religious) can be used in similar ways. To punish and marginalize potential foes, while simultaneously entrenching your own powerbase.

In many cases, codes of honor can support ethical, or moral behavior. It's something to consider carefully before fully ejecting the concept. However, living to see the next sunrise is more important than being honorable. It may be important to make your actions appear honorable, after the fact, but that's more about political damage control. The most important thing to understand about honor is that its real purpose is not what it appears to be. It was always a lie, designed to get you to put yourself at a disadvantage.

-Starke

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[tomicaleto]

What about 49 & 79 and Obikin for the trope mashup? 👀

(this is @edge-ofnight btw 🤭)

The hilarious dichotomy of sending an anon but revealing who you are (kidding, I saw another ask where you explained it was because you can't send asks from secondary blogs lol)

Anyways, I'm sorry this took me so long, I struggled thinking about a setting but here it is! Hope you enjoy!

49 - Fake Married and 79 - Anger Born of Worry

“This is ridiculous.” Obi-Wan barely acknowledged the statement with a distracted nod. It only made Vader fume harder than he already was.

But Obi-Wan couldn’t say anything. Not when he had the Sith next to him dressed in beautiful golds and reds, an outfit that showed his toned stomach and jewelry braided into his curls.

‘It was tradition,’ their hosts on the planet had said. The younger spouse was supposed to wear those shades, to represent the passion of youth. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had been provided with a much sober outfit, dark blue hues paired with silver.

They had come across each other on the neutral grounds of Suitina, both with intentions of offering benefits for the people of the planet to join their respective sides of the war. It had spiraled out of control when they had started bickering as they usually did on the battlefield and that’s how they had been found by the Suitines.

And had been promptly mistaken as a married couple.

And for the sake of their respective missions, they had allowed the Suitines to believe them.

Now they were waiting for the Governor to grant them an audience, with Vader looking incredibly tantalizing in his borrowed outfit but pissed off at their current situation.

Obi-Wan knew how damaging an angry Vader could be.

“Why are you so calm about this whole thing?” The Sith asked once again, the jewelry in his hair twinkling as he turned towards Obi-Wan with a snarl.

“Darling, please, we don’t want to upset our hosts.” Obi-Wan snapped back, barely resisting a smirk when Vader fell quiet. Pet names didn’t work much on Ventress, who often shot her own back at Obi-Wan, but Vader was another story altogether.

He often fell quiet and had even blushed once or twice, which was an interesting reaction on its own.

As the doors opened and they were summoned inside the chamber, Obi-Wan hoped their ruse would hold.

—

“I hate you so much,” Vader grunted, cutting another creature in half. Obi-Wan ignored him, focused on not getting killed by three more creatures himself.

The Suitines had been open to their offer —and Obi-Wan hadn’t figured out yet how that would work with them holding different sides of the war in a farce of a marriage— as long as they dealt with an infestation of unnatural monsters.

They weren’t sentient and Obi-Wan was sure he had never come across this kind of thing. Tall and faceless, they were ruthless in their attacks and vicious. Vader seemed to be in his element, slashing indiscriminately at the monsters with a grace and swiftness that had Obi-Wan distracted.

Which was of course, when one of the monsters managed to break past his defense and scratch at his chest. He hissed in pain but managed to kill the beast before pressing a hand to his chest and pulling it away covered in blood.

Not good, that meant the scratch was deeper than it would appear.

He tried to keep his focus and guard up but his sight was turning blurry.

Damn, it seemed like their claws were poisonous.

With increasing difficulty, he retreated but was caught by another monster, falling on his back with a pained grunt.

Three monsters more circled him and then he heard a rough “No!” and the red blade of Vader was slashing at the creatures, his eyes glowing almost red and using the Force in ways that had Obi-Wan nauseous.

Or maybe that was the poison.

He lost track of time and suddenly Vader was kneeling next to him and pulling him up, carrying him over his shoulders.

“You better not die on me, Jedi!” He shouted, cursing in a foreing language after.

“I’ll do my best, darling.” He slurred, which only earned him another curse as Vader started sprinting across the land, probably taking him back to the city for medical treatment.

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me, Kenobi. I swear to the Force…” He cut off but his hold on Obi-Wan’s arm tightened. “You’re lucky their poison is not lethal.” “At least they didn’t take the opportunity to kill me yourself from you.” He pushed, cheekily.

“I’ll drop you, don’t test me.”

“That’s how you treat your beloved husband, I’m hurt.” He had to hug Vader’s shoulders to avoid falling as the man actually stumbled and loosened his hold on Obi-Wan. “Alright, I’ll shut up now.”

Thank you for asking!

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP

[savethelastdan]

For the trope mashup game! Could we have magical accidents and first time? Sesskagu, of course 💖💖

inspirational track: lay all your love on me

It was hard to say, whether this current problem was worse than that which had been his original problem. As with most conflicts, it really depended on who you asked. 

As for what Sesshomaru himself thought, well - he would keep that particular opinion to himself. 

-

The first problem that he had seen as a problem, had actually arisen from a good thing. One of the best things to happen in the past few years, if you asked those who Sesshomaru had hesitantly accepted as his comrades: 

Kagura had resurrected. 

She'd been given a life, and a properly-beating heart, by the gods themselves. In exchange, she was tasked with maintaining all winds in the sweeping territory of the West, where many demons of her element apparently refused to go. 

The rest of them are scared of you, she told him with a cheeky grin. Kagura always referred to others of her kind that way - 'them', not 'us'. Even though I said there's nothing to worry about. 

Having such a responsibility didn't seem to bother her, thus Sesshomaru didn't have a reason to be concerned. And in his estimation, the two of them didn't actually cross paths that often. 

But in every instance where they did meet, no matter how brief, a…disturbance soon followed.

 It's a hot day when Sesshomaru catches her at the top of a hill, close by Rin and Kohaku's village. He's chasing some blood-stained scent, while she is catching the barely-there summer breezes in her sleeves. The stretch of skin on her sun-browned forearm, usually hidden behind layers of fabric, plays in the corner of his eye. She sits up when he passes. Maybe she expects him to address her. But Sesshomaru simply turns his head, and continues on…

He never made it to visit the children that day. Minutes later, the swords at his side had begun to shriek incomprehensibly; every attempt to pull them from their respective scabbards resulted in a sharp sting, uncomfortably similar to Tessaiga's vicious shock. Only after hours had passed (and Kagura had left) did they finally calm. 

Audacious little witch, she sits on his windowsill with her legs crossed neatly. Sesshomaru stares wordlessly at her in obvious distaste, but Kagura simply turns her face to the sky. 

"Such a nice view is wasted on you," she sighs. The moonlight paints the curve of her cheek in silver-blue. 

Sesshomaru turns over and closes his eyes. He won't care whether she stays or not.  

In the morning, he awakened to find the room rent with deep scratches. The stench of poison remained, so strong that Jaken fainted as soon as he slid open the door. For the rest of the morning, Sesshomaru's hands remained in tense, gnarled fists. They curled even more tightly, at the thought of whether he would find Kagura on his windowsill again, sometime. 

She's in the middle of redirecting a rogue storm, laughing so loud it rings deep in his ears; Sesshomaru kneels close to the ground and watches, silent. Kagura tosses a glance over her shoulder and mouths something he can't figure out, no matter how many times he replays it in his head…

An hour later, his demon form burst forth from beneath his skin, and he spent the night pacing on all fours in the dark. Every time he tried to push the energy back, all it took was the image of her wind-swept form to lose his grip again.

So - there it was, a problem. Obviously caused, or at least made worse, by Kagura's near-constant presence on his mind. But Sesshomaru had long handled concerns like this by either beating them into submission, or pretending there was not a problem at all. 

Which is how he ended up with his second, some-may-perceive-to-be-worse, problem. 

-

"You say you need something to control demonic energy?" Totosai blinked several times, as though by doing so it would clear the cobwebs out of his brain and allow him to fully grasp the situation. Gesturing to Sesshomaru's pair of swords and pieces of armor, he grunted, "Don't have much room left on your person for anythin'. You're a bit of a walking advertisement, at this point." 

Sesshomaru let the corner of his mouth droop just the slightest bit. Sweat erupted across the old weapon-maker's brow. 

"Well, alright. Let's see what I got that's small…" 

After a few tense moments, Totosai lifted his head and shoulders from the depths of an old, worn-out chest with a handful of dark-colored beads. "Don't remember where I got these. They're supposed to help with…memory, or focus, or something like that?"

Sesshomaru nodded, and Jaken rushed forward with a haughty sniff. A coin purse hit the table with a heavy thunk, startling Totosai out of his rambling. 

-

"Hey, Miroku, what's Lord Sesshomaru got around his neck?" 

"To be honest, Shippo, I try not to look too closely at him, just in case it is taken as an offense."

"It looks kinda like - well, you remember that time you were at that village flirting with everybody?" 

"…"

"And Sango kept getting mad at you?" 

"…"

"And I said I had something that would help you stop thinking about girls so much?" 

"Ah, yes, that village! I must admit, that necklace was a tad ridiculous but it did help, in its way. Why are you bringing that up now?"

"Uh, well…" 

-

These were the facts: 

He had come into the village to visit Rin. Kagura arrived shortly after, to meet with Kohaku. 

She'd brightened upon seeing him and immediately started to tease. Attempting, as usual, to draw out a response, though he never knew what exactly she expected from him. 

With every moment he had to look at her, breathe in her scent, restrain himself from reacting - the beads tightened around his neck. 

The beads that, apparently, encouraged one's restraint through very public reminder. 

As soon as he deigned to meet her eyes, the beads burst into cloud of bubbles. The air split with an embarrassingly loud alarm, before the jewels reformed around his neck once again. The whole charade deeply amused the demon-slayer's babies that clamored around them. (They were all too interested in the shiny things on Sesshomaru's person on a normal day.) 

 "What the hell?" Kagura's eyes widened at the display. She was not in awe of him, nor fearful; simply curious, which usually motivated Sesshomaru to hurry up and disappear immediately.

But the fact was, his demonic energy had developed at a level few living yokai could match. Ordinary beads, meant for repression of human desire, would simply fall apart when faced with such power. But some god somewhere had apparently seen fit to humble him. Instead of disintegrating, the necklace's magic went haywire.

More bubbles, growing larger and larger with every second that Kagura smirked at him. They enveloped the slayer's shrieking children, forcing their uncle to run about trying to keep them from flying away. The beads kept popping, forming and reforming at a ridiculous speed. 

Kagura looked at him, one of the land's most fearsome creatures who usually exhibited nothing but the finest self-control, and laughed.

He did manage to flee, and would have gone all the way back to the very edge of the West. Was it not imperative to remove the infernal jewelry first. 

"Look, I don't quite understand what happened today." Kagome said, coming to sit beside him. The red and white fabric of her priestess outfit puffed dramatically around her legs. "But if you want to talk about it I'm happy to listen."

Sesshomaru had no desire to do so. However, as things stood, his reputation had already been sorely affected. And he had not succeeded, in the end, of fixing his original problem.

"I heard those gave you some trouble?" Kagome pointed at the necklace, her nose wrinkling. 

"Their true properties were not made clear to me," he muttered, restraining the urge to rear back as his sister-in-law attempted to untangle the beads. At least there was no chance of them malfunctioning around her. 

"I figured. What did you think they were supposed to do?" 

"It is not for a human to understand."  

"Oh, come on." The necklace unwound from his neck to settle heavily in Kagome's palms. She flinched, as Sesshomaru's now-unrestrained demonic energy rippled freely through the air. "They don't look quite like subjugation beads…"

"It is not to control one's body, so much as one's mental state." Maybe if he kept talking, it would keep his mind off the wind witch, and thus he would not transform in front of his brother's bride…

"Are you trying to stop thinking about something?" 

He made a sharp motion with his chin that she thankfully accepted as a response. 

"Something that has to do with Kagura, right?" 

Again, his version of a nod.

Kagome's face scrunched up. It was obvious that she was trying to choose her words carefully. Most people did, around him. 

"You know, Lord Sesshomaru, sometimes pushing our feelings down makes them come out worse than if we'd just said them in the first place." 

And as if on some kind of cue, a gentle breeze swept around them. 

-

He found her in the forest. Even with all the shadows around, her eyes were bright when she turned to meet his gaze.

"So, what was all that? Did the kitsune successfully prank you for once?" 

Sesshomaru stepped closer. One hand moved, slowly like in a dream, to rest on her shoulder. Since she resurrected, he had not been able to touch her. 

She stepped closer, until her own hand rested on his other arm. For the second time that day, energy rippled through Sesshomaru's bloodstream. Like the pain of being struck, except…he could not explain it. 

But for the first time, beneath his grip, he sensed the air around Kagura shift, too. 

"You're such a fool," she snorted, tossing her head so sharply that the beads of her earrings clicked against the side of her neck. "What's the point in holding yourself back?" 

I didn't want you to see, he thought, knowing he would never be able to say it. Wondering if she might understand, anyway. In case you did not want me, the way I want you. 

Her fingers climbed to the collar of his robe, where Totosai's ridiculous trinket had rested. Bakusaiga and Tenseiga sung her name, and she smiled like she could hear it, too. 

"Nod if all this is because you want me." 

Sesshomaru flinched. "What - "

The hand by his throat closed into a fist. Her gaze bore into him, strangely calm. 

Stiffly, he inclined his head. The marks on his face burned, but it felt different than before, when he'd been so out of control - 

"Finally." 

She leapt up to push their mouths together; her other hand had somehow untied his pauldron without him noticing, and it fell to the ground. His back hit a tree with a loud crack. Wind crashed around them, howling, to cut off the rest of the world. For every spike in his energy, her own rose to match it. 

"Let me help with your problem," she murmured against his mouth, robes pooling around her waist. "And then you can help with mine..." 

[poke-entomology]

@pokemon-ranger-site-agent​

Hey, I like the idea of a western pokemon game and saw you were looking for fakemon suggestions. So I thought I’d share an idea for one based on the Piasa bird, a chimeric looking creature that supposedly ate warriors. Legend says it took 20 men with poisoned arrows to bring it down!

I think it ought to have the Fairy/Dragon, Fairy/Dark or Fairy/Flying typing due to how it was defeated (having a weakness to poison and steel). Also, there’s a surprising amount of legends about creatures who don’t look quite right or make unnatural sounds. Glowing eyes in the dark. Coyotes making noise in the night and then there’s no tracks in the morning. A wild animal tore up in a way that couldn’t possibly have been a bear. That midwest trope just screams “Fae creatures” to me!

In terms of gameplay, it might have an ability that weakens fighting or normal type attacks, seeing as it hunted humans. Or you could lean into it’s vicious nature by giving it something like Moxie or Beast boost. Hell, even having it heal whenever it beats an enemy would be great! As for a signature attack, Vendetta: ??? power 100 accuracy. The user waits in ambush for the opponent to attack. If the opponent’s attack would cause supereffective damage, this move goes first and the move’s base power becomes 150! Otherwise, this move’s power is 70 and moves last.

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

Taatea the Lantern

Toa Taatea is the leader of the Toa Hora. Cooler and calmer than many Toa of Fire, her caring nature often leads her on extended rescue missions, and she’s a bit of a worrier. Before they got their own Toa, she was also responsible for the noxious wastes of Su-Wahi.

Taatea’s weapon of choice is the Blaze Thurible, an elegant burner with which she burns various incenses, to calm vicious Rahi or smoke out her foes with choking fumes. Her Mask of Purity neutralises any poisons or toxins in her body, allowing her to breathe easier even in the deepest volcanic caves.

Taatea was an opportunity for me to play with the existing tropes of the series. Where Toa of Fire are typically brave, mighty warriors with big powerful weapons, I wanted Taatea to be more of a cleric-like figure and a graceful entity. I also wanted to address the otherwise low number of female characters - what is sex to a non-breeding robot? I really like her hooves too. All of the Toa Hora have original Kanohi, but I’m not good enough at 3D modelling for that. So, for now, she has a yellow Kaukau ... which is like $200 on the second-hand market, so like hell I’m getting one for the real model.