#Most Ruthless Rejections People Have Endured

[greensaplinggrace]

🔥for Genya Safin? 👀

anytime anybody attributes genya's decision to remain in the grand palace entirely to the darkling, they do her character a major disservice. they erase her depth, her traumas, her agency, and some of the key, defining points of her personality, her relationship with choice, and her driving motivation. not only that, but in large part, when people "excuse" genya from this decision, they are couching their reasoning in terms of perfect victimhood and female infantilization. I have never seen an analysis of this scene pushing all of the blame onto the darkling that did not in some way shame imperfect victimhood and moral ambiguity in women.

we lose a lot of good character analysis when we refuse to engage with women's choices as their own. people like to strip them of consequences or agency in order to blame others for their actions, because to admit women are capable of being imperfect victims or people with darkness in them or people that make bad choices or unreasonable decisions - like any person would - is to engage in a level of nuance that fandom rejects. you flatten these characters into perverse caricatures and you fetishize their victimhood without accounting for the reality of such trauma, and in doing so you brush aside the ugliness of the situation and you scrape out everything that makes the victim a person and you replace it with a doll you can easily defend.

genya made a choice. it was not the darkling's choice, it was her own. what happened in this situation was a very fascinating intersection of character motivations and personalities in a situation that highlighted their greatest traits. it is baffling to me that people like to flatten this scene when it is by far the most interesting one out there - imo anything between aleksander and genya is interesting because they are so similar, but I digress.

you have two very practical and goal focused characters in the same room together. you have the darkling give a young girl an ultimatum - strike one: this is a mark against him. he should not be giving children of this age any ultimatums when they are too young to be making such decisions. but he is a general and they are his soldiers and he is a character whose motivational focus is idealistic at the rejection of the individual. he is a) practical, and b) opportunistic - so this scene is a fascinating look into these aspects of his character.

then you've got the darkling engaging with genya. he is relating to her and he is sympathizing with her. people love to mark this as either full manipulation or complete non-manipulative empathy. but realistically, it would be both. it is very likely the darkling understands what genya is going through and is very sympathetic to it. it is very likely the darkling would not push her further to remain in the grand palace if she chose otherwise. but he is practical, and he has certain goals, and he respects genya's strength of character. he is also one of the only characters fully aware of the political climate, and one of the only politically savvy characters on the side of the grisha.

genya remaining in the grand palace is the best decision, in his mind. to remove her would put the grisha on the backfoot. to remove her would put the grisha at a disadvantage in the political climate, and it would instead give the king leverage over them. she is also useful to him, because he is an opportunist, and this is the most reasonable option to him, because he is practical. so he doesn't just remove her from the situation, he gives her a choice.

genya is also practical. she is highly competent and incredibly smart. she is vengeful, she is vicious, she is ruthless, she is prideful, and she is unbelievably caring. it is fucking baffling to me that people assume she's some wilting flower that was wholly manipulated into her situation and then simply sadly endured while she wished for a better life until she could be rescued by her savior when in reality she takes an active role in her story and is the fucking symbol of quiet, ruthless, karmic resistance and righteous fury.

the decision genya makes to stay is the crux of her character. it is her defining moment. everything you can glean about her character can be directly derived from this decision that she makes. and people will just take that away from her? you're joking. let's just say she didn't choose to side with alina as well while we're at it. those scars she got were random and not the direct consequence of her own choice. those scars she has aren't symbols of her resolve and her loneliness and her compassion and the strength she must have had to spare alina knowing what the darkling would do to her. they're just there I guess - all the darkling's fault. please. I'm fucking seething.

genya has reasons for deciding to stay in the grand palace. and she remains there because she has reasons. she has internal logic and depth of character. she has a driving motive that - surprise - puts her in danger! she suffers and she is traumatized and it is because the darkling gave her an ultimatum and it is because of grisha persecution and it is because of the king's corruption and the queen's inaction. but first and foremost it is because she chose to stay. because her character - her personality - dictates it. and she is not regretful.

like you all love to make her some weeping perfect victim when she's not. you love to say she'd fold in on herself waiting for rescue when she wouldn't. you love to say she'd walk away from her goals and her motives and her care for both the individual and the masses when everything about her says otherwise. you love to make her kinder than she is, softer than she is, less practical than she is - because she is too much like the darkling in too many ways and this is simply unacceptable in this fandom. none of these female characters have depth or gray morality to you. none of these female characters have complicated relationships with their trauma and their choices to you. it's literally all just the fault of one man. and I'm sick of it.

genya fucking looked the darkling in his eyes and forgave him for what he did to her. not because she cared about him, but because she cared about herself and her recovery. in a feat of monumental strength and incredible fortitude. literally all this fandom does when they talk about her is judge the darkling. as if she doesn't at all exist beyond him. how is that in any way liberating or providing understanding for survivors like her?

send me a 🔥 for an unpopular opinion (x)

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #sab #genya safin #aleksander morozova #the darkling #you've got a scene that is RIFE with character goodies for two of the most interesting characters in the series #who are incredibly similar #and you're just erasing all that. okay #myramblings #sab salt #sab discourse #sab meta #negative #fandomcourse #asks and answers #lol ty for the ask nonny #ask games

[eisa96]

“Glad he had his character development” Did you—Did you even hear yourself? And this is coming from fans who claimed themselves they read the main story. Don’t lie.

“he’s so violent” “bad anger issues” “poor Touya he doesn’t deserve to be hit the poor baby” “poor Kohane :((“ “poor Mita”

Where do I even start—

Mita sabotaged Vivids because he thought he did the ‘right thing’ for Bad Dogs/Akito and he thought that the other will agree with him. Which caused that reaction from Akito. Rightfully so

He does not like dirty tricks. Need to remind you that he experienced those things in his years spending his life in Vivid Street, singing. Mita absolutely knows this. Seen it. And he’s doing the exact same thing as those musicians. Why do you think Akito reacted so strongly to that?

Kohane. He made it very, very clear that he hates half-assed people that aren’t serious in pursuing their dreams. Him and An share the same strong desire : surpass Rad Weekend. And here comes Kohane, someone that isn’t experience in the field that An immediately accepts as her partner.

Before, other musicians reached their hands to An. She ended up rejecting them all. But what makes Kohane special? When she’s not even experienced. It made it seem that An is not as serious as he is in their dream; therefore trampling on it. Another thing is; when he throw those harsh words to Kohane (after the Vivids blackout incident), ever thought that he’s also protecting her?

Remember. He knows how vicious Vivid Street is. Has encountered and endured those musicians that Kohane will eventually will face. If she’s not ready in taking it seriously, she’ll suffer. Akito, in his own words; is looking out for others. And this is something that never changes.

Not everything is black and white. Even without the future events or side stories that came along after the main story, the writers already introduced Akito as a complex character that is more than he looks.

Touya. To those who read the main story, you should be very aware why Akito resulted in punching him here. If you only say that Akito has deep anger issues and that he shouldn’t use violence to speak his words here and painted Touya as the victim ; you are very, very wrong.

Akito was trying to be calm and level-headed in that situation. Up until the point Touya stabbed him right where it hurts that he finally snapped and hit him. Akito didn’t punch him because Touya didn’t want to be partners with him anymore nor because he said he won’t sing. He punched him because he belittled Akito’s dream. Touya told him that his dream is childish, that he should stop chasing after some “little event that’s only famous in (this) town”. That their songs are meaningless. The words are not only ruthless but cold.

This is the same person Akito shares his dream with and has sung together as partners for the last 2-3 years.

Touya wasn’t fazed that Akito punched him. He’s hurt that he deliberately upsets his partner by directly hitting him where it is the most painful. With his words. Both of them are hurting in this event. Not only just Touya.

People kept focusing on Akito being a ‘bad person’ in the main story but never see what his actions and words did to those characters he supposedly hurt.

Mita realized his mistakes, reflect on his actions and apologized to Vivids. He also cleared Bad Dogs name and confessed that they have nothing to do with the incident. That they only wanted a fair battle, that he was the one who did all of that.

Kohane carefully processes Akito’s words and agreed that she wasn’t taking it as seriously she thinks and found what she wants to do. And in some way, allows her to be brave in stepping forward to pursue that dream with her partner. She knows that her skills are not enough but she will try to aim on performing the best event with her partner.

Touya was not hurt by Akito, let’s make this clear. After the incident, he gets to talk about his troubles to An & Kohane and asked them not to tell Akito about it. Akito in so many ways, helped him to feel alive again. The one thing that held him back was that—He felt unworthy to stand by Akito’s side which shine so brightly compared to his ‘half-assed’ one (his words not mine). And what did Akito do? After he learns about what Touya was hiding?

He came and talk with Touya. Let him know that he doesn’t want anyone but Touya as a partner. Lets him know that it’s okay even if the other thinks he’s not good enough for him. Lets Touya know that they will do it together; as partners, pursuing their dream they share. Together. Akito again, brought light to Touya’s world again. He was hurt, yes. They both are. But this one conversation alone, helps them to learn more about one another and heal.

This is what people are not seeing.

#project sekai #vivid bad squad #shinonome akito #I am tired seeing people keep painting him as the ‘villain’ of the story #when what he did is the opposite #he helps keeping the story going and made Vivid Bad Squad happen #remove what he did and the story won’t go anywhere #eisa talks

[deathfavor]

The more vulnerable Xue Yang becomes when he doesn't WANT to be vulnerable, the angrier and more violent he becomes. He tries to provoke whoever is causing it when that happens. He tries and wants to make them angry, to make them hurt or start a fight. He wants them to lash out. Xue Yang doesn’t like to be vulnerable. That is equal to weakness in his eyes. He doesn’t like having his laughter and amusement and viciousness pried away. He doesn’t want people seeing how cracked and broken he is beneath all of that. He’s fucked up and he knows it and he enjoys it but he hates the causes and truth he hides. Making someone hate or hurt him is better than being exposed in his eyes..

He doesn’t enjoy being forced to face his broken aspects. ( Or his desire to be USEFUL or needed sometimes when someone is interesting to him. ) He hates that. Hates when someone else can break him down till his vulnerability shows. And there’s very, very, very, few people who could really do it. Because you have to be able to endure his violence physically , verbally , emotionally to be able to reach it. You have to be strong enough to let him bite and still be rational enough to analyze him. The closer you get to vulnerabilities, the more he fights and claws like some wild animal. You have to endure the taunts or insults or hate-laced comments, but if you can, then it’s him in all his ugly rawness , his desperation to matter to someone. All of him. From his ugliest sides to the gentler side we get a glimpse of.

Which makes the scene with Xiao Xingchen all the more rough. He’s lashing out with such ruthlessness BECAUSE he’s vulnerable. Even if he CHOSE to ( to some degree ). He insists on telling his story, not for pity but because its home. He tells the truth to Xiao Xingchen, he rips himself open because he WANTS Xiao Xingchen to see him in that moment. All of him. He doesn’t even fight back despite Xiao Xingchen stabbing him and trying to kill him. Xue Yang, the street dog who always attacks and plays offense, is choosing to RUN from a fight for once not because he needs to but because he WANTS to.

Xiao Xingchen basically spits on him (in his eyes) and calls him disgusting which is when Xue Yang snaps. He doesn’t believe Xue Yang when he’s telling the truth , when it matters the most. You can SEE how raw Xue Yang is in those scenes because when he’s screaming at Xiao Xingchen that Xiao Xingchen can’t even save himself.

That’s not the face of someone who doesn’t care. But Xiao Xingchen can’t understand the point Xue Yang has been trying to make the whole time with his story, with his words. Not that Xue Yang's explaination excuses anything he does. It doesn't, but to HIM it makes sense. Xue Yang is desperate, he’s angry, he’s vulnerable. He TRIES being vulnerable and Xiao Xingchen can’t understand it and rejects him. He’s drowning in his volatile emotions , he’s lashing out , he’s trying to hurt Xiao Xingchen because he himself is vulnerable and he hates it. It makes him feel disgusting and pathetic. And the fact he isn’t been seen or understood makes it even worse. So he lashes outwards to hurt others as a twisted way to soothe himself. He wants Xiao Xingchen to hurt and feel pathetic and hopeless just like he does in this moment.

TLDR: Xue Yang lashes outwards the more vulnerable he gets as a defense but if you can endure it then you can see more of the real him that he himself loathes.

#᛭ — [HEADCANON] once there was a tragic little boy [XUE YANG]

[chipped-chimera]

Thought I'd do a little bit of a personal update! I'm doing the reorganising thing which is still slow but really motivating - enough that I'm having good energy days where I'm getting more done! I should be able to start work on the new fish tank soon!

More commentary/thoughts/where I'm going creatively below the cut. (It might be a bit heavy, you've been warned - check tags for more info)

EDIT: Fixed Tumblr borking this, now looks like how this WAS SUPPOSED TO oof

So I'm in the process of redoing my entire office just to fit this fish thank (which has now been leak tested so we're good to go), as well as reorganising based on tips I picked up from this book for people with ADHD that I've found massively helpful. Honestly it's been great for helping me just THROW SHIT OUT because while I can have my moments of ruthless detachment and clear inventory my family is very much a 'use/reuse/reappropriate' kind of deal, which while great often gives me hesitation throwing stuff out primarily because of that pressure - especially when I'm stuck living with them. Now I know it's necessary to get everything to a state where it will STAY organised.

It's also let me take inventory of the stupid amount of traditional media art supplies which have been sitting there since high school in near pristine unused condition (we are talking a LOT of very useable acrylic paints here) and get them all organised. After chatting with my psychologist yesterday I've bought more/replacements for things I had to throw out (literally dry as a bone markers) as she literally said she 'very much encouraged' my idea of starting a visual art diary to help process emotions and stuff.

I know over the years my inspiration to do stuff has withered, usually because it's been hammered by bad moods (caused primarily by external forces I could not control on top of my already battered neurology). I know now because of shit in my past that has been largely unresolved, art has never been an outlet for emotions for me because I'm so afraid of taking up space. Despite emotions being a powerful source for art, I rarely draw on them both because I have spent so much time trying not to feel them or hiding them because unfortunately my history is one of a lot of rejection, right down to a very young age where my caregivers should have been way more on the ball. It's helped me acknowledge my way of expressing love and affection is kind of fucked - when I feel close to someone or like them a lot it has the opposite effect where I instinctively want to pull away from them because I'm scared I'm going to 'ruin it', like my life is tainted and by associating with them I'll drag them down somehow. I know it's silly but it's very hard to get past because it's automatic - that was the only way I was guarenteed to get affection, if I was the most borin, biddable, palatable child in existence who caused no problems, even if it meant enduring physical and emotional pain alone. I inherently find it hard to trust people being genuine about liking me as a person because I'm just waiting for the shoe to drop when they realise I'm too much hassle - which unfortunately was the circumstance my relationship ended around so yeah, that did not fucking help. Basically I go from being really comfortable around someone to masking intensely and yeah that is NOT GOOD. I also legit feel the reason I have alexytheimia is because I had to develop a buffer so early in my life just to survive as far as I have.

I'm hoping art journalling will help me process some of those thoughts and feelings and I still want to try and show them, just to show myself they DO have value, they are a valid part of the human experience and they should be allowed to take up space - I do not need to hide them away or cut pieces of myself out to become more 'palateable' to people. So yeah um, I guess there will be some vent art, I don't know if I'll post only to my art blog or here because it's more sketchy shit and I reserve the art blog for finished pieces now ... either way knowing me it's going to be highly metaphorical and symbolic so I don't know how 'triggering' it could be but either way I'll probably tag the absolute shit out of it just to make sure I don't adversely effect someone (yes I am aware of the irony in me saying that as it's basically me trying to 'not ruin' things again but even putting it out there at all is a big enough step - also tags are just basic decency).

So uh ... That's what I've been up to? Also why I've been kind of shit about WIP Wednesday tagging and responding to other tag games (which I am now once again remembering a bunch of that I STILL have sitting in my motifs cause I still wanna do them ; m ;) I think I tend to get something like reverse SAD this time of year, arguably for the same reasons SAD develops - it gets so damn hot that I have the curtains closed in my office (which has the biggest window in the house) all day to keep the heat out. So arguably I have just made 'tiny dark winter' for about two months because I ain't going outside when it's over 30C (aka the temp tomorrow. And the day after THAT. Fuck I hate summer). Just instead of dark and cold it's dark and sweaty - feeling clammy also being a sensory problem for me so all around BAD TIME until the season changes :/

Outside of all that I'm speculating writing a wlw romance in a western setting because I have had on off cowboy rot since forever and I should probably do something with that already. Currently speculative Native American love interest/secondary protagonist with a background that probably touches on maybe the boarding schools and then reconnection with culture. We've had similar stories with our indigenous population in Australia unfortunately (colonialism is a plague) so I can sort of have some understanding but I probably need to hit the books on that one. For any Americans/Canadians reading this if you know some good books, PLEASE send me your references, I really want to make sure I do this right. I reblogged a post a few days ago about how Native Americans are often dehumanised in westerns and they just become part of the landscape, and I really want to push against that. Also do some contrasting against how oppressive western colonial era culture was by comparison to native culture honestly because I feel that would be a really interesting dynamic. Idk when/if stuff with this project will start happening but we'll see.

If you read this far, thanks! It's pretty validating to know people care this much, since it's hard for me to believe people do care a lot of the time because of all the above bullshit. So just so you know, I love you guys 💖 and you get a bonus cat:

Tiny p.s. living with my parents now is very different from when I was a child, I know the people who caused me hurt are long, long gone. They are not the same people anymore - so I am okay! It's still frustrating but more for the reasons of wishing I had my own (bigger) space to live in and put all my stuff and just 'I am a 30 year old extremely supressed lesbian speed running puberty and this environment is not conducive to exploring that' if anything. While I'm out with my Mum I can't like ... talk about that shit lol. So yeah, frustrating but for entirely different reasons. Just clearing that up.

#kerytalk #trigger warnings: #trauma #emotional neglect #depression #honestly it's pretty light on specifics though so hopefully ok #healing

[faintingheroine]

I heavily dislike the soap opera fans on Twitter who ship Bihter and Behlül and think they know anything about the novel without reading it. They actually think that the book is Bihter and Behlül’s love story. They actually throw a hissy fit when they are told Nihal is the protagonist by people who have actually read the novel. They actually use the first line of this quote to “prove” Behlül loved Bihter back haha:

“There was no doubt that he loved Bihter; never in his life had he had such a deep, enduring affair. Of course this was his first and last love; but would it always continue in this fashion, with the same meetings, the same words spoken at the same moments, the same kisses exchanged with the same vows of devotion, like a marriage in meaning and melody?

Slowly, he had begun to wish for novelties, for different flavours in the palette of this romance. In the first weeks there had been things that made them shiver with fear; until they had possessed each other entirely, while there were still distances to be overcome in their love, they would feel a thirst for the satisfaction of their desires. But later, when there was nothing more to be expected from the continuance of this affair, the quiet hours had begun, those monotonous hours whose calm was like death throes. There was nothing of the passions, the thrills, the frenzies, the tears, the wild struggles to love each other better, in short, nothing of that urgency that ever replenishes a romance; they were no longer even jealous of each other…

Behlül, in complete contrast to his expectation, was finding in Bihter a soft, gentle woman; she had a way of coming to his room, as if obeying some rule, that made even Behlül feel uneasy; they could find no time to desire each other in this relationship. Behlül was realising, though not quite clearly, that in the hands of this woman he himself was beginning to take on the part of a woman. He was the one who was sought out in his rooms, the one who was taken and possessed whenever he was desired. While he could not examine it fully, he felt that the manner of this affair was belittling to him, and in the depths of his heart, in a place kept secret even from himself, he felt an enmity towards Bihter.

By his account, there was some pleasing loveliness missing in this delicious woman; in their love-making, Bihter became so material, she consented to all of Behlül’s passionate desires with such surrender, that what might have been generous turned against her and became contemptible things that made her common and disgraceful. Nothing was denied Behlül, no desire of his was thought excessive. But he relied on the pleasure of being rejected, on pleading, on the object of desire being hard-won.

One night, as an idea that would surely be spurned, he had wanted to get Bihter drunk. She would cry out against the idea; he hoped that she would not consent to this wish with a wanton weakness. Then to search for this woman’s intoxicating love, to conquer her, would be a great satisfaction. However, when Bihter agreed, the thought of making her drunk disgusted Behlül. This incident remained an unfinished joke between them; but in Behlül’s heart at least, there was a resentment towards her borne of her failure to refuse.

This resentment rose from being unable to respect Bihter. For men to love a woman, they need to be able to respect her; towards dishonourable women, even in the most violent loves, they never fail to feel a certain contempt. While he avoided analysing his feelings clearly, Behlül had at last begun to see Bihter as a woman who escaped her marriage bed and entered the intimacy of another’s room, and at night, in his room, sinking into the armchair by the stove, scanning a few pages of Paul Bourget — that ruthless anatomist of women — he would at one and the same time wish for Bihter to come, and dread her coming.

(Chapter 15)

Literally, they said “fuck context” 😭😭😭

I wish I could delude myself so throughly. I would use this one (1) scene to “prove” Ibrahim loved Nigar back:

Because fuck context. Fuck reading comprehension.

#aşk ı memnu #aşk-ı memnu #bihter #behlül #aşk ı memnu 2008 #magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl

[thequeenwechoose]

My thoughts on 1x05 of House of the Dragon

As always spoilers for book and show

Rhaenyra: It was very nice to see that she and her father are getting along so well. She acepts her role in the game. She and leanor are getting along quite well i think it could have been far worse for her (cough lannister). Her rejection to christons proposal was no surprise, i mean why would she give it all up? She clearly doesn’t love him and that is alright. She owns him nothing. Daemon seems to be a whole other level, i m still not sure if she was just taunting him but i was very surprised at her choice of words. They definitly share something deeper. But it wasnt the right time for them to happen. The very rushed wedding ceremony was disturbing. They were both crying and not from happiness. In the end both had no choice.

Daemon: Oh my he killed his wife. A quiet disturbing scene but i could not really feel sorry for her, it was clear she did not like him and i dont feel sorry for characters who have 5 minutes screentime and then die. Thrones pulled that card to often. I still think he did not do it in the books but the show decided it and so it is. Do i hate him for it (as obviously a lot of people do at least what i take from the tumblr comments here?) No i dont because i know who he was in the first place. To quote the book the brightest of heroes and the blackest of villans. He is the character i feel most for in the show and that will not change. From his point of view he endured this marriage for a very long time 10 + years i think? This is a long time in the world of westeros, all the while he has to see his brother having a family and a place to belong. Daemon does not have that (yet). Sometimes a marriage does not work we dont know what happened between them in the past. But something drove him away from her. If he would be so cruel he would have killed her far earlier. With his banishment he had no other option, he was backed in a corner. Does that make it right that he killed her? Of course not. I mean he was about to walk away when she gave him that final blow. At the end as cruel as it was she would have died very slowly. Rhanys giving viserys that information would have been okay for me they did not need to show it. The only thing the acomplished with that is that he is indeed a very dangerous man. But this is a dangerous world. You wont live long in it if you are not at least a bit ruthless.

Moving on to the wedding this was the most fun entrance to watch, i could not stop laughing. He waltzes in without a care in the world well knowing viserys could not refuse him openly. He was banished but i think since this conversation was just between the two of them the rest of the court doesnt know and he would have to give an explanation which he could not do without ruinning the wedding. And that damn smile. I think he came for rhaenyra. I have no other explanation since he was not there in the book. He met laena and flirted a bit with her but his ultimate goal was to talk to his niece. This conversation was quite explosive, he was to stunned to speak while she was taunting him and i havent seen that of him so far. Usualy him being silent means he is going to do something horrible, here he was clearly taken aback by her (like in the last episode). She continues to surprise him i think he hasnt met a woman before who dares that. And he is so into that. And when he could not take it anymore he snapped and crabbed her neck and almost? kissed her. All in front of viserys and the whole court to see. I think they kissed but that’s just my opinion. And when hell breaks loose he just vanishes? This is a very loose end from the writers, i guess they could not decide what to do with him. Ultimatly he was to late for rhaenyra to marry her at this point of the story. He would not take her away because that would mean alicents son would get the throne. As we have seen before he cares a lot about his family legacy. In the books he was never fond of the queen and her children (nice detail that he is the only one in the room who does not stand up for her).

Viserys: Am i the only one who thinks that his illness feels a bit rushed? I mean it was clear that he is not healty (maester conspiracy?). After the picture that was relased last week it think that he could be a lepper. It would explain why he cuts himself so often on the throne. He simly does not feel it. The wedding seemed to stress the hell out of him Daemon, Alicent, Daemon and Rhaenyra (his face was priceless). I wondered why he did not stop the chaos you know like robert baratheon at the jousting. But i think he was to weak for that. That he rushes the wedding was no surprise after all that chaos. Him collapsing at the end was a bit  much. In the scene where he asks strong after his legacy i could not help but think that he is rememberd as the king wo laid the foundations for the dance. All which could have been avoided if he had fired otto hightower at the begining of his reign and kept closer to his brother. Oh and not mary alicent of course. He is without doubt the most tragic character on the show.

Alicent. So i guess this was meant to be her coming out episode. With the dress she started team green. But why does she change so drasticly? Does she hate rhaenyra because she did not tell her that she slept with chole? Or is it the fact that she is jealous that rhaenyra has more freedom as she, that she could choose her husband while she could not? Her father fires it on in a very drastic way, blatantly telling her that she will kill her children (not an uncommon thing in history, in the ottoman empire it was traditon that every brother of the future sultan was killed to ensure peace). I think ottos great plan had one weakness he had not considered: that viserys would stay true to rhaenyra even after he had a son. Her calling rhaenyra stepdaughter was a bit much given that they are the same age. I can understand her feeling of isolated at court. She is a victim of her fathers conspiracy and now she belives what he told her, there is no way back from here. The sad thing is it had not to be this way.

Christon: He finally showed his true colours. I understand that his good looks were very distracting for people that did not read the books. But i never believed him to be a good and honorable man. You could see a glimpse of it at the tournament when he attacked daemon from behind. He wanted to marry rhaenyra out of guilt not out of love she would have been miserable with him. I still dont understand why he confessed to alicent so quickly are we to belive he is feeling so guilty he cannot bear it. (All i could think about in that scene was that jamie had three kids with his sister and served in the kingsguard despite that without saying a word.) Him being offended that rhaenyra wanted to continue their affair (she truly took daemons words to heart lol), i can understand but no one says he had to comply to it. It was such a cliche that he believed she loved him because she slept with him. Why he killed joffrey at the wedding i did not understand, sure he taunted him but you can’t kill everyone who does that. I think it was a good look at his true nature, he is not the white knight he wants the world to see. I guess he is finaly a green now,

Chorlys and Rhaenys: What a power couple. They seem to be very happy together. He wants the throne for her. She is worried of the powerplay and she is right to do so.

Driftmark looked very beautiful. It was good to get out of Kingslanding for a while. The music and the dancing at the wedding are very refreshing and cool. But it was a very dark scene, i had the feeling of being in a cave. Why do weddings in westeros always escalate? The lack of dragons is something that makes me a bit angry i hope they redeem that next episode. I felt it all a bit rushed after all it was the midseason finale. They had to tie all the loose ends and prepare for the big timeskip. I have mixed feelings about the actress changing but i understand that it's necesary. There is no way that you would belive young mily alcok has 3 kids. I think emma will do a good job. The romance between her and daemon will look better with her aged up.

A word on the costumes. They spend a lot of time on alicents dress and it looks very beautiful. Rhaenyras wedding dress disappointed me, it lokked to simple and the hairstyle was a bit over the top.

A solied episode but not one i will rewatch very often i think. 3 of 5 stars.

#house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #hotd #review #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen

[apilgrimsjournal]

Unearthly Foe

Recently, the church has been experiencing unnecessary tension from us who have not had enough time to sit down and communicate our differences and misgivings. I happen to love these people with equal honor and respect but I cannot help but think how different I thought the church would be. I have these wrong preconceived notions that Christians are people who are always willing to keep no record of wrongs, forgiving, and rely on God to handle the things we have no control of. But God is teaching us all that that is sugar-coated Christianity. If Christians are always lovable people, then the love we show to each other cannot possibly be genuine since loving often comes with sacrifice, long-suffering, enduring, and more attributes which are found in 1 Corinthians 13. To walk away and stop caring for each other is the easier way out to the flesh, but that results to indifference which is the exact opposite of love. Even C.S. Lewis attested that to love at all is to be vulnerable, love will cost us our comfortable lives because we follow the One who for His great love to us, died for our own sakes, too. The Holy Spirit is teaching me that loving each other should always be the first priority of the church. And if I am being honest, this is so difficult to learn and do, myself included. Because even if we tell people from outside about Christ, but fail to love one another inside the church, what good is that to us? Surely, God did not design His church to be that way.

More importantly, I also keep thinking about how the Evil One must be enjoying this. Satan wants to kill and destroy what God is restoring to Himself which is His church: the people He graciously redeemed. This Enemy is formidable and because Satan knows he cannot defeat God, he will rather attack His people: His image-bearers. He will not stop until he damns the souls of God’s people to eternal fire just as he was damned. His envious pride has no limit, unlike us humans, who tire and get weary. The principalities and forces of darkness know no sleep or rest so we must take heed and be wary of their tricks and snares. They usually use our thoughts and feelings to create issues that were not even there in the first place and cause dissension and strife. These evil ones are cunning and ruthless to us, because unlike us, they do not have the chance to repent and turn to God, the wellspring of life and joy, and be with Him anymore. So, I pray that God will grant us wisdom to know what to believe and reject, who the real foe is, and what matters the most. May we remember that eternity with God and enjoying His being forever should be the ultimate end of each of us.

Psalm 103:

15 As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field;

16 for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.

17 But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children,

18 to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.

#christian #hope #jesussaves #love

[imperialmadam]

I posted 68 times in 2022

That's 30 more posts than 2021!

10 posts created (15%)

58 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@foxindarkness

@bluestaratsunrise

@saurons-pr-department

@udunuruk

@bilbo-babe

I tagged 63 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#rings of power - 31 posts

#sauron - 23 posts

#adar - 17 posts

#mairon - 13 posts

#halbrand - 11 posts

#melkor - 10 posts

#silmarillion - 9 posts

#tolkien - 8 posts

#lotr rop - 7 posts

#fanart - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 29 characters

#incorrect silmarillion quotes

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

When Halbrand showed up on the horse at the end of the last Rings of Power episode, he looked so much like Aragorn that I thought Viggo Mortensen had a cameo for a moment.

28 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#4

“Do you know how the orcs first came into being? They were elves once. Taken by the dark powers. Tortured and mutilated. A ruined, terrible form of life.” - Saruman, The Fellowship of the Ring

So Adar went through that? I want to hug him.

63 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

#3

How the Villains of Rings of Power Won Me Over

I wasn’t excited about either of the main villains of Rings of Power (Adar and Halbrand-as-Sauron) until I saw them.

1. Adar. When I first heard about him, my reaction was kind of eh, okay. I didn’t have a problem with an evil elf, but I thought he would be just a lesser version of Sauron. The poster of a spiky black gauntlet holding a sword didn’t help that impression.

But it quickly became clear how much care went into creating this character. He’s no Sauron Lite. We see ruthlessness, but we also see kindness, especially in his first scene where he puts a dying orc out of his misery. Then we get his backstory. Giving a face and a name to one of the elves corrupted by Morgoth was an excellent idea. He also sees orcs (sorry, Uruk) as people, which we don’t see very much in Tolkien, although Tolkien apparently struggled with that.

The writers also gave Adar heroic traits, such as the fact he got to give an inspiring speech before the battle. And it wasn’t really that evil. Aside from the last sentence (close our fist around these lands), he talked about endurance and freedom, not conquest.

It also helps that Joseph Mawle has incredible charisma and screen presence. I can’t take my eyes off him when he’s on screen.

2. Sauron. I was concerned about Sauron’s depiction. This was the first time we’d truly get Sauron as a character on screen. (I don’t really count The Hobbit, he just shows up as a shadow or armoured figure, says and does evil stuff, and is defeated.) I hoped the RoP writers would get his charm, manipulation and desire for order.

As someone following speculation about the show, it was hard to avoid the idea that Halbrand was Sauron. Even before the show started, people were saying that. And he was showing many Sauronish traits - being a blacksmith, his burst of violence, his advice to Galadriel about mastering people, the fact he’s done evil things. One on its own, fine, but all of them together? The H=S theory seemed more likely each episode. And I didn’t like it. Halbrand just didn’t catch my attention enough. Hot, charming and snarky, sure. A decent character in his own right, but too ordinary to be Sauron. Before, I was worried Adar would be a lesser Sauron, and now I was worried Halbrand-as-Sauron would seem dull after the complex and intriguing villain that is Adar.

But I knew the execution would make or break the reveal, and it worked! I could see Halbrand as the Dark Lord. I can see why the finale was Charlie Vickers’ favourite - he truly shone in that episode. The way he went from charming to terrifying when Galadriel rejected him was incredible, and felt very Sauron-like. They also got the idea that Sauron does want to help Middle Earth - but he thinks that means ruling over it. And that final shot of Sauron walking into Mordor with his cloak blowing around him was breathtaking. Halbrand was not the Sauron I imagined, but he is Sauron.

I should rewatch the season. I will probably enjoy Halbrand more now I know he pulled off the Sauron reveal.

(I have to say I expected a more dramatic Sauron transformation than Halbrand dyeing his hair and putting on a black cloak - but I suppose he had to stay recognisable as Halbrand.)

89 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

#2

(Sauron returning to Mordor after drowning in the Fall of Numenor)

Galadriel: Halbrand...

Sauron: Don’t start.

125 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Gandalf: Morgoth? After all this time?

Sauron: Always.

136 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[lacaja-depandora]

#fail #lol #Most Ruthless Rejections People Have Endured

[tusfails]

#fail #lol #wtf #Most Ruthless Rejections People Have Endured

[yuikomorii]

I feel like they made Yui like that because of her blood type?In Japan ABs are known as the intelligent ones,while Os(aka Yui)as the optimists.

//Ooh,I know what you’re talking about!A few years ago,I found out about the Blood Type Personality Theory and it’s really interesting to me since I’m a 0 too and honestly I can relate to what’s written there.

Basically, in Japan, blood types are considered an important indicator of a person's personality,for this reason many anime characters get the one that defines them the most.

Rejet was quite smart here,some blood type traits really reflect the personalities of the DL characters!

0:Yui,Ayato,Kanato,Laito,Reiji,Yuma,Shin

0 blood types are considered generally optimistic. Japanese people call people with 0 blood type, warriors because they are strong and enduring. They are honest and hate people who hide the truth.They have a habit of setting high standards for themselves and do all they can to achieve them. They like to look after people, especially those younger than them.

These people have good leadership qualities and little things do not bother them. Their lack of care for the ‘small things’ can cause others stress or anxiety because they give less weight to actions that are important to others,which can be read as rudeness or insensitivity even if they don’t want to appear that way. They also have some difficulties in expressing their feelings because they are afraid of being rejected.

Positive personalities traits:easy going, positive outlook, confident, energetic, outgoing, cautious,strong-willed,loyal, peaceful, passionate, independent, reliable,determined,carefree, trendsetter and devoted.

Negative personality traits: Jealous, ruthless,insecure,rude, non-punctual, insensitive, cold, unpredictable, self-centered and arrogant.

AB:Shu,Ruki,Carla,Kino

Blood type AB is a hybrid of A and B, two different personalities mixed together. They are calm and rational but have a complicated personality. The holders of AB blood type are the highest ones in the percentage of their intelligence. They try to keep their true personalities from strangers, thereby making most believe that they are a mixed personality. It is hard to decode these people until you know them thoroughly.

Positive personality traits: Charming, controlled, cool, dream chaser, caring, rational,calm,talented,trustworthy, adaptable and creative.

Negative personality traits: Complicated, vulnerable,complicated,mysterious,discriminating, self-centered, forgetful, unforgiving and critical.

A:Subaru,Azusa

People with A blood type are sensitive, cooperative, emotional, passionate and clever. They are very patient, loyal and love peace and thus do not like to get into a fight with anyone. But sometimes these people become overly sensitive and fragile-hearted.They are anxious and easily get hurt; that’s why it takes time for them to open up to people. They like to keep things neat but can be stubborn and get stressed out easily. They do not like to show their emotions and feelings to anyone unless comfortable with them.

Positive personality traits:kind,shy,attentive,polite,, reliable,organized,responsible,neat,loyal.

Negative personality traits: obsessive,anxious,overly sensitive, pessimistic, stubborn, easily stressed and fastidious.

B:Kou

People with blood type B are known to be easy-going, honest, and bubbly. Compared to all blood type personalities, the B group is the most outgoing. They are generally curious and are not afraid to speak their minds. They can sometimes express their opinions regardless of what other people might feel. Because of this, they are sometimes perceived to be selfish and self-centered. These people are very creative and quick decision makers,but they are not good at taking orders. They put every part of themselves into something they want to focus on. They are focused on achieving their goals and don’t like interference from other people.

Positive personality traits: Curious, strong, relaxed, creative, adventurous, passionate, cheerful, active and outgoing.

Negative personality traits: selfish, unforgiving, uncooperative, irresponsible and unpredictable.

Of course,not all traits apply to every character,but somehow each description fits them ;D You can check this site if you’re fond of learning more about blood types!

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #admin #(I really had fun writing this lol)

[servantofthefates]

How a Scorpio REALLY Sees You

Now that it’s Scorpio season, it’s time for brutal honesty.

Aries – As a Twin

A love-hate dynamic. Not because we do not understand each other, but because we are way too similar. Same level of temper and ambition. After all, Aries is Cardinal Fire and Scorpio is Honorary Fire; and Aries’ father Mars is Scorpio’s ancient ruler. Between the two, there is intimidation. But at the end of the day, nobody comprehends Scorpio like you do.

Taurus – As an Ally

Great at marathons and other challenges of endurance, Taurus is an asset to Scorpio. We both have an inner sense of stability, long-term vision and the capacity for patience with a purpose. Of course both being Fixed signs, there may be clashes at times. But also because both are Fixed signs, our values deep down tend to align.

Gemini – As a Potential Enemy

Just because Scorpio likes or loves you does not mean Scorpio trusts you. Gemini at its core has the tendency for duplicity. A manipulative streak that may be calmed but never really killed. That is why Scorpio can greatly enjoy Gemini’s fun personality, while never forgetting that with them, falseness is always a possibility.

Cancer – As a Cousin

You love some of your cousins. Others, you hate. Others yet, you have absolutely no feelings for. Scorpio and Cancer are similar but not alike. Both being Water signs, our level of sensitivity and capability for strong emotion should be comparable. But Cancer’s passive-aggressive tendency is something that makes forthright Scorpio reject their company.

Leo – As the Potential Soulmate

At their best, Fixed signs Scorpio and Leo are the most loyal of the twelve. They also tend to have the greatest sense of self love — something deeper and more meaningful than ego. And so when you combine two people who truly love themselves and who are also capable of pure faithfulness to somebody else, then what you have is a connection that will last for ages.

Virgo – As a Best Friend

There is simply no friction between Virgo and Scorpio. Earth and Water will always create harmony together. And even though Virgo’s intensity is practical while Scorpio’s intensity is emotional, at the end of the day, intensity is still intensity. That is something we recognize and admire in one another. Because of mutual respect, we give way to each other’s peculiarities.

Libra – As an Acquaintance

It is not impossible, but it is difficult, for Scorpio to forge a profound and lasting connection with Libra. Because Scorpio is deep water, and Libra is carefree air. The former craves stability that the latter seems too breezy to offer. Scorpio needs more than what Libra can usually give, and Libra tends to be afraid of Scorpio’s depth. So we just smile at each other from afar.

Scorpio – As a Potential Rival

Chameleons, we can wear any face we want for the day. That is why, of each other, we are wary. Dealing with another Scorpio feels like having a gun pointed at you, while also pointing your gun at that person. Either could go off at any minute. Both people will have strong opinions and even stronger personalities. When not kept in check, explosion is an inevitability.

Sagittarius – As a Younger Sibling

Scorpio sees Sagittarius as a cooler kind of fire. We share Aries’ temperament and Leo’s self esteem. But somehow, we do not have a lot of common ground with Sagittarius. They are, to us, a safer, more transparent version of Gemini. Fun and sociable. But never quite capable of understanding us the way their Fire siblings can.

Capricorn – As a Peer

Scorpio has deep respect for Capricorn. Because this Earth sign knows the true meaning of hard work, commitment and never taking any shortcuts. Even more, Capricorn can just be as ruthless as Scorpio when it comes to things they truly believe in. And that is something that Scorpio acknowledges and very much appreciates.

Aquarius – As a Wildcard

We love some. We hate some. And even those whom we love, we hate sometimes. Aquarius is Fixed Air. But the “Fixed” seems to be less pronounced than the “Air”. We appreciate their innovative mind and fearlessness of being different, but we see in them a tendency for frivolousness that we find unattractive, even repulsive.

Pisces – As a Child

Water at its calmest, Pisces is very sweet and soft-spoken. Scorpio enjoys this submissiveness. We do not see it as a weakness, but rather, something endearing that needs to be protected. Moreover, romanticism, creativity and mysticism are abilities these signs share very strongly. There is between the two a deep kind of affinity.

#Scorpio #Zodiac signs #Astrology #Witchblr #servantofthefates #Zodiac personalities #All About Astrology

[maxwell-grant]

Who's your favorite Batman villain?

The Penguin. Was gonna put off this ask for a bit but I got surprised today with an incredible rendition of him, so now the dastardly bumbershoot waddled and squawked his way into my thoughts again and I gotta talk about him.

Penguin's not just my favorite Batman villain, he's my favorite DC character and comic book supervillain, the main reason I even want to write a Batman story someday.

I love the imagery that surrounds him, the trick umbrellas and the birds he so lovely dotes after and the WAKs and the Iceberg Lounge, which has become maligned in recent years as a sign of his downfall, but I very much appreciate as a concept in general still. I love a lot of the performances and actors who've taken him over the years. Burgess Meredith and Danny DeVito are some of my favorite performers of all time, Paul Williams has a wonderful voice and starred in my favorite film of all time. Tom Kenny, David Ogden Stiers, Robin Lord Taylor, Penguin's just had such great, terrific performances and adaptations. Batman Returns is my favorite Batman film by far and it was what got me to start paying more attention to Oswald.

I love the roles he can play in any given Batman story and how he's managed to endure all of his falls from grace by becoming an indispensable part of Batman's worldbuilding. I love his varied dynamics with Batman and Riddler and Catwoman and Gordon and his henchmen and those who get close to him. I love his style and the way he conducts himself when he's allowed to be more than just a generic mob boss. Penguin's design has, by simply staying unchanged over the decades, gone from "common rich person wear draped over a funny cartoon gangster" to "he is so out of touch and desperate for respectability that he dresses like an 1930s capitalist caricature, like a little kid's idea of what a rich and respectable man looks like, and Penguin's still stuck in that mindset". I love how absurd and plausible he is.

I like that Penguin can very easily fit just about any kind of Batman story, from the campy supervillain plots to the gritty urban crime ones. You can tell stories about Penguin falling in love, pretending to be legit because he doesn't want his aunt to learn he's a criminal, and opening up a comedy act with a talking penguin, or stories about Penguin terrorizing the city with giant robots and guided missiles and driving people to suicide. I like that he's a character who both relishes in his lifestyles of supervillain and crimelord alike, and yet is perpetually restless because the minute he acquires what he wants, he immediately starts wanting something else. He could have Batman and the Batfamily and all other supervillains wiped out and have Gotham in his pocket and maybe even become President of the United States, and he'd still want more. Because Oswald is nothing but wants, the wants of a traumatized manchild in a funny costume throwing money and toys and brute force and tantrums at the world until it makes sense, which only makes him far too fitting as a Batman villain.

Everyone forgets that Penguin was canonically the first villain to ever successfully escape Batman at the end of a story, completely bypassing the usual "villain swears revenge behind bars" ending to instead escape scot-free, and went on to establish himself as one of his biggest, most inventive and most cunning villains, second only, if not equal, to Joker. I love that he's ruthless and inventive and classy and cunning and brutal and how his main trick is using the fact that everyone underestimates the short fat man to his advantage. He's taken traits that got many of us in real life relentlessly tormented for them, and he uses them to pull the wool over those who think they are better than him.

It'ss a trick that works because even in real life people can't stop looking at this weird and silly little man and think "that guy's too silly for a Batman villain, he's not a murder clown or musclebound monster, what's he gonna do" and, yeah, that's the point, that's been the point from day one, he doesn't look scary or intimidating or even that evil, and he's the guy who pulls the rug under supergenius fighting machine Batman and becomes the top crimelord of Gotham City, a city ruled by terrors and manias and monsters infinitely bigger and scarier and stronger than he is, and he STILL made it to the top and he STILL maintains it, time and time again even when newer and flashier and scarier villains come and go. Batman is, at it's core, a fundamentally absurd character, and Penguin acts as a reminder of that. Because the minute we accept a man can terraform himself with training and money into a living legend on the level of gods, there's no reason why a tiny fat man with similar drive and resources can't likewise throw his weight with monsters and warriors far above his station.

Despite how ridiculously often he's disrespected by writers and fans alike, how far he's fallen off his former position in Batman's Rogues Gallery, and how often he's used as just a punching bag for assorted Bat-people, Penguin never goes away. He's the biggest survivor of all of Batman's villains, more so than the genuinely immortal ones, because he's the cockroach that won't go away no matter how many times you flush it.

Because once you get past the piles of money and the lounge fortresses and the armies of goons and the piles of cartoony gadget toys not too dissimilar from Batman's own, what the Penguin has is brains, and spite and hatred on a scale no other Batman villain has. He hates Batman, because Batman is nothing but yet another bully who thinks he can push Oswald around just because he's bigger and stronger. He hates the lower class for it's unsophisticated brutes and boors that made his childhood hell. He hates the upper class that's rejected and also tormented him since infancy, that he desperately spent so long trying to be a part of. He hates the monsters and supervillains he works with and has to associate with to stay alive. He hates the city that he fights to rule over tooth and nail.

And although he may never admit it, he hates himself, because he'a short paunchy man with a beakish nose who's brutal and immoral not just because those are the cards life dealt him, but because he likes what it affords him too much to give it away. Because he's never going to have the love and acceptance he desperately craves, he will never be able to accept it or keep it. Because he can never fully be a gentleman, or a monster, but instead a sad mix who belongs in neither of their worlds. Because at the end, he doesn't look like anyone else. He looks like one of him.

And still, I like Penguin because he's a Gentleman Villain. The one Gentleman Villain of Batman's rogues gallery, even if that's faded from a lot of his recent appearences that pushed the crimelord aspects to the forefront. He dresses like a gentleman thief, he's canonically a huge A.J Raffles fan, he's one of the most cunning brains of Gotham, he's got the money, resources, and adventurous spirit. Problem is, he's The Penguin. And suddenly, all that he has becomes overblown, outlandish, theatrical, and out of touch purely because it's him trying to do all those things. He's a gentleman adventurer gone rogue, the Count Fosco of the DCU, and that only makes it amusing, even endearing, when Penguin does engage in the swashbuckling antics he's so fond of.

When all his plans go to hell and so he starts fencing Batman, or when he commands henchmen with superflous fancy language, or even when Oswald gives the whole "hero" thing a shot and we see he's actually not bad at it, maybe he actually could have been one if it wasn't for the bile drowning his heart and the hellscape that warped innocent young Cobblepot into Gotham's Penguin, a name that immediately denotes something silly and ridiculous, and he carries it with pride, because he will make you respect that name.

And that's just a couple of reasons. I really, really love this character to the point of obsession and the main reason why I ever wanted to write stories for DC was to get to write Penguin and at least try to do the character a little more justice. But if nothing else, Penguin endures, regardless of what happens to him, in and out of universe. If nothing else, that's a very admirable quality in a supervillain. Oswald is the best.

#replies tag #comic books #batman #batman villains #the penguin #oswald cobblepot

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

------------------

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #smut #ransom drysdale x woc!reader

[witcher-lore-enjoyer]

Viper Witchers

Cat | Griffin | Bear

Gorthur Gvaed

The Witcher School of the Viper made their home in the stronghold of Gorthur Gvaed. Guarded by a remarkable tower adorned by a frighteningly ominous spiral coiled around its contours. Yet it held not a candle to the terrifying moat that surrounded it—deep by several hundred feet and truly… breathtaking. No one could tell if what was filling it should still be called water. The smells above the moat were, to put it mildly, hard to forget. Viper witchers, who survived the fall of the stronghold, later joked that it was the stench that led the Usurper’s army to find Gorthur Gvaed. Countless soldiers died in this gutter. According to legends, so many perished that one could have made their way to the other side of the moat on a bridge composed entirely of their corpses. And the odour grew even worse

Located in Tir Tochair (a scarcely inhabited mountain range that divides the Korath desert from the modern-day northern and central provinces of the Nilfgaardian Empire. It is known as the largest lasting enclave of gnomes.)

There were many scrolls and manuscripts about the legend of the Wild Hunt.

Founder

Ivar Evil-Eye

There’s a terrible tale behind each and every scar⁠—you’d be surprised just how many are true.

Ivar was one of the unfortunate few who endured the mutations extremely well, and so was selected for further, more complicated experiments. Of those subjected to these enhancements, only he survived—perhaps due to the mages only managing to partially complete the trial.

As a result of these experiments, Ivar gained his moniker, as well as a new sight. His so-called “Evil Eye” saw a different world. Many other worlds, really. With his eye, he watched as ghostly riders dashed along the Spiral, and observed how they’d kidnap, kill, and conquer. Forever haunting Ivar’s special vision, these spectres became his obsession. 

Training

Each student is given a pet to raise during their stay at Gorthur Gvaed, in order to form a strong emotional bond throughout their training. Years later, before becoming a fully-fledged witcher, they are ordered to slaughter their companion in cold blood.

Viper Witcher Mentor

Viper mentors are especially cold and ruthless in order to prepare their students for the harsh life that awaits them.

Some Lore from Gwent

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or weaker. It depends, really.

It is often said that witchers took on the characteristics of their schools' namesake creatures. Without a doubt, this was true of the Viper School. They were agile, quick, and frequently made use of deadly poisons.

As with the other witcher schools – the Wolves' Kaer Morhen as sole exception – none were aware of the Viper School's location. Only one detail ever became widely known... That it stood somewhere south of the Yaruga. In Nilfgaard.

Perhaps it's no wonder then that Vipers were less inclined to neutrality than other witchers. The Empire would never recognize such a stance. There is only obedient servant... Or mortal enemy.

Emperor Emhyr var Emreis gave them a choice they could not refuse: assassinate a few kings in the Northern Realms in exchange for rebuilding the school to its former glory.

The emperor, however, did not keep his promise and instead of rebuilding the school, he sent bounty hunters after its few remaining members to remove any loose ends.

Armor and Equipment

Viper Witchers are trained to fight with twin blades, often referred to as “fangs”. This style focuses on fast and furious strikes aimed to overwhelm their target, be it monster or man.

These blades would often be coated with poison as the school made great use of its knowledge of alchemy.

No need to strike deep when but a scratch will prove fatal.

Five More Witchers

Letho of Gulet

Witchers never die in their beds. - Letho

Some friends you see after many years apart and you immediately develop a headache. Not out of antipathy, but as a somatic premonition of the hangover sure to follow your drunken reunion. Seeing others, however, gives you an itching pain in your back and a desire to reach for your blade. For Geralt, Letho of Gulet had a foot in both of these camps.

Letho, if Geralt doesn’t ask him to go to Kaer Morhen, says, that he will be heading to Zerrikania citing a possible reason that it's a matriarchy and he's always had a deep belief "that it's women who should rule the world."

Serrit and Auckles

He seems different, but in reality is so similar. Our paths have been the same: we survived the Trials, endured the same training and have slain so many monsters that we no longer keep count. So many men, also. The difference is in the details – when I see him moving in combat, I want to laugh, but I also see that he is just as effective, if not more so. There is, however, one critical difference I cannot describe adequately. He has a goal, he is committed to something. He doesn't wander the world as if blown about by the wind. I believe he feels emotions at a level I cannot attain, yet these emotions are not typically human. Is it an illness of some kind? I think he teeters on the brink of instinct and emotion, and that he uses up a lot of energy to maintain his mental health. I hope I get a chance to know him better and learn from him. Nothing specific – just life. - Serrit about Geralt

Serrit was a lot more hot-headed than his brother, complaining about the lack of action they had in the past days.

Letho's got a plan… what could go wrong? - Auckles

Auckes seemed to be the less serious of the brothers, being sarcastic at times while being very confident of his skills.

He appeared to regard Geralt as a friend, which is reflected when he asked if Geralt wasn't hanged for Foltest murder and Letho asked him if he wanted to see him hanged, he lowered his head and just answered "no".

Along with his brother, Auckes was fond of using bear traps.

Kolgrim

Fate seemed to take pleasure in torturing Kolgrim. Fortune only smiled upon him if it was accompanied by a stroke of very bad luck. It was always thus, even before Kolgrim became a witcher. When he was still a young harmless brat...

On the eve of Saovine small Kolgrim was kidnapped by a weeper, which replaced him with its own cursed offspring. Fortunately, the monster was slaughtered by a witcher that very same night. The boy's savior, having taken pity on him, decided to escort him back home. Kolgrim was relieved to be returning to the warmth and safety of his mother, unaware of his impending misfortune.

The woman greeted the witcher with hatred in her eyes, not believing a single word that came out of his mouth. Blinded by her contempt, she refused to even look twice at her own crying son, utterly convinced that the weeper's baby was her real child. With the door slammed shut in their face, the witcher had no other choice than to take Kolgrim with him – straight to the Viper School.

Over many future years, fate mocked Kolgrim many times – both during his murderous training and the later travels around the Continent. His life ended most ironically. For he, who was once stolen and then rejected from his mother, was accused of kidnapping a child.

Warritt The All-Seeing

By slightly modifying the Supirre sign, Warritt gained the ability to see... everything.

Supirre is a Sign enhancing the auditory perception of the user. Drawn on a solid surface, it allows the people near the Sign to hear sounds which would be normally inaudible due to the distance or background noise. As such, it is often used for eavesdropping.

It compensated the monster hunter's lack of sight by giving him the ability of echolocation.

#the witcher #witcher #school of the viper #viper school #viper witcher #viper witchers #witcher school #witcher schools #witcher reference #gwent: the witcher card game #Letho #letho of gulet #Warritt The All-Seeing #Serritt #auckles #kolgrim #ivar evil-eye #Gorthur Gvaed

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

The Importance of Antiheroes

By Brooksie C. Fontaine (me) and Sara R. McKearney 

Few tropes are as ubiquitous as that of the hero. He takes the form of Superman, ethically and non-lethally thwarting Lex Luthor. Of Luke Skywalker, gazing wistfully at twin suns and waiting for his adventure to begin. In pre-Eastwood era films, a white Stetson made the law-abiding hero easily distinguishable from his black-hatted antagonists. He is Harry Potter, Jon Snow, T’Challa, Simba. He is of many incarnations, he is virtually inescapable, and he serves a necessary function: he reminds us of what we can achieve, and that regardless of circumstance, we can choose to be good. We need our heroes, and always will.

But equally vital to the life-blood of any culture is his more nebulous and difficult to define counterpart: the antihero. Whereas the hero is defined, more or less, by his morality and exceptionalism, the antihero doesn’t cleanly meet these criteria. Where the hero tends to be confident and self-assured, the antihero may have justifiable insecurities. While the hero has faith in the goodness of humanity, the anthero knows from experience how vile humans can be. While the hero typically respects and adheres to authority figures and social norms, the antihero may rail against them for any number of reasons. While the hero always embraces good and rejects evil, the antihero may do either. And though the hero might always be buff, physically capable, and mentally astute, the antihero may be average or below.  The antihero scoffs at the obligation to be perfect, and our culture's demand for martyrdom. And somehow, he is at least as timeless and enduring as his sparklingly heroic peers. 

Which begs the question: where did the antihero come from, and why do we need him?

The Birth of the Anti-Hero:

It is worth noting that many of the oldest and most enduring heroes would now be considered antiheroes. The Greek Heracles was driven to madness, murdered his family, and upon recovering had to complete a series of tasks to atone for his actions. Theseus, son of Poseidon and slayer of the Minotaur, straight-up abandoned the woman who helped him do it. And we all know what happened to Oedipus, whose life was so messed up he got a complex named after him. 

And this isn’t just limited to Ancient Greece: before he became a god, the Mesoamerican Quetzalcoatl committed suicide after drunkenly sleeping with his sister. The Mesopotamian Gilgamesh – arguably the first hero in literature – began his journey as a slovenly, hedonistic tyrant. Shakespearian heroes were denoted with an equal number of gifts and flaws – the cunning but paranoid Hamlet, the honorable but gullible Othello, the humble but power-hungry MacBeth – which were just as likely to lead to their downfall as to their apotheosis.

There’s probably a definitive cause for our current definition of hero as someone who’s squeaky clean: censorship. With the birth of television and film as we know it, it was, for a time, illegal to depict criminals as protagonists, and law enforcement as antagonists. The perceived morality of mainstream cinema was also strictly monitored, limiting what could be portrayed. Bonnie and Clyde, The Good the Bad and the Ugly, Scarface, The Godfather, Goodfellas, and countless other cinematic staples prove that such policies did not endure, but these censorship laws divorced us, culturally, from the moral complexity of our most resonant heroes. 

Perhaps because of the nature of the medium, literature arguably has never been as infatuated with moral purity as its early cinematic and T.V. counterparts. From the Byronic male love interests of the Bronte sisters, to “Doctor” Frankenstein (that little college dropout never got a PhD), to Dorian Grey, to Anna Karenina, to Scarlett O’Hara, to Holden Caulfield, literature seems to thrive on morally and emotionally complex individuals and situations. Superman punching a villain and saving Lois Lane is compelling television, but doesn’t make for a particularly thought-provoking read. 

It is also worth noting, however, that what we now consider to be universal moral standards were once met with controversy: Superman’s story and real name – Kal El – are distinctly Jewish, in which his doomed parents were forced to send him to an uncertain future in a foreign culture. Captain America punching Nazis now seems like a no-brainer, but at the time it was not a popular opinion, and earned his Jewish creators a great deal of controversy. So in a manner of speaking, some of the most morally upstanding heroes are also antiheroes, in that they defied society’s rules. 

This brings us to our concluding point: that anti-heroes can be morally good. The complex and sometimes tragic heroes of old, and today’s antiheroes, are not necessarily immoral, but must often make difficult choices, compromises, and sacrifices. They are flawed, fallible, and can sometimes lead to their own downfall. But sometimes, they triumph, and we can cheer them for it. This is what makes their stories so powerful, so relatable, and so necessary to the fabric of our culture. So without further ado, let’s have a look at some of pop-culture’s most interesting antiheroes, and what makes them so damn compelling. 

Note:  For the purposes of this essay, we will only be looking at male antiheroes. Because the hero’s journey is traditionally so male-oriented, different standards of subversiveness, morality, and heroism apply to female protagonists, and the antiheroine deserves an article all her own.

Antiheroes show us the negative effects of systematic inequalities (and what they can do to gifted people.) 

As demonstrated by: Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders.

Why he could be a hero: He’s incredibly charismatic, intelligent, and courageous. He deeply cares for his loved ones, has a strict code of honor, reacts violently to the mistreatment of innocents, and demonstrates surprisingly high levels of empathy. 

Why he’s an antihero: He also happens to be a ruthless, incredibly violent crime lord who regularly slashes out his enemies’ eyes. 

What he can teach us: From the moment Tommy Shelby makes his entrance, it becomes apparent that Peaky Blinders will not unfold like the archetypical crime drama. Evocative of the outlaw mythos of the Old West, Tommy rides across a smoky, industrialized landscape. He is immaculately dressed, bareback, on a magnificent black horse. A rogue element, his presence carries immediate power, causing pedestrians to hurriedly clear a path. You get the sense that he does not conform to this time or era, nor does he abide by the rules of society.

The ONLY acceptable way to introduce a protagonist.

Set in the decades between World War I and II, Peaky Blinders differentiates itself from its peers, not just because of its distinctive, almost Shakespearian style of storytelling, powerful visual style, and use of contemporary music, but also in the manner in which it shows that society provokes the very criminality it attempts to vanquish. Moreover, it dedicates time to demonstrating why this form of criminality is sometimes the only option for success in an unfair system. When the law wants to keep you relegated to the station in which you were born, success almost inevitably means breaking the rules. Tommy is considered one of the most influential characters of the decade because of the manner in which he embodies this phenomenon, and the reason why antiheroes pervade folklore across the decades.

Peaky Blinders engenders a unique level of empathy within its first episodes, in which we are not just immersed in the glamour of the gangster lifestyle, but we understand the background that provoked it. Tommy, who grew up impoverished and discriminated against due to his “didicoy” Romany background, volunteered to fight for his country, and went to war as a highly intelligent, empathetic young man. He returned with the knowledge that the country he had served had essentially used him and others like him as canon fodder, with no regard for their lives, well-being, or future. Such veterans were often looked down upon or disregarded by a society eager to forget the war. Having served as a tunneler – regarded to be the worst possible position in a war already beset by unprecedented brutality – Tommy’s constant proximity to death not only destroyed his faith in authority, but also his fear of mortality. This absence of fear and deference, coupled with his incredible intelligence, ambition, ruthlessness, and strategic abilities, makes him a dangerous weapon, now pointed at the very society that constructed him to begin with. 

It is also difficult to critique Tommy’s criminality, when we take into account that society would have completely stifled him if he had abided by its rules. As someone of Romany heritage, he was raised in abject poverty, and never would have been admitted into situations of higher social class. Even at his most powerful, we see the disdain his colleagues have at being obligated to treat him as an equal. In one particularly powerful scene, he begins shoveling horse manure, explaining that, “I’m reminding myself of what I’d be if I wasn’t who I am.” If he hadn’t left behind society’s rules, his brilliant mind would be occupied only with cleaning stables.

However, the necessity of criminality isn’t depicted as positive: it is one of the greatest tragedies of the narrative that society does not naturally reward the most intelligent or gifted, but instead rewards those born into positions of unjust privilege, and those who are willing to break the rules with intelligence and ruthlessness. Each year, the trauma of killing, nearly being killed, and losing loved ones makes Tommy’s PTSD increasingly worse, to the point at which he regularly contemplates suicide. Cillian Murphy has remarked that Tommy gets little enjoyment out of his wealth and power, doing what he does only for his family and “because he can.” Steven Knight cites the philosophy of Francis Bacon as a driving force behind Tommy’s psychology: “Since it’s all so meaningless, we might as well be extraordinary.” 

This is further complicated when it becomes apparent that the upper class he’s worked so arduously to join is not only ruthlessly exclusionary, but also more corrupt than he’s ever been. There are no easy answers, no easy to pinpoint sources of societal or personal issues, no easy divisibility of positive and negative. This duality is something embraced by the narrative, and embodied by its protagonist. An intriguingly androgynous figure, Tommy emulated the strength and tenacity of the women in his life, particularly his mother; however, he also internalized her application of violence, even laughing about how she used to beat him with a frying pan. His family is his greatest source of strength and his greatest weakness, often exploited by his enemies who realize they cannot fall back on his fear of mortality. He feels emotions more strongly than the other characters, and ironically must numb himself to the world around him in order to cope with it.

However, all hope is not lost. Creator Steven Knight has stated that his hope is ultimately to redeem Tommy, so by the show’s end he is “a good man doing good things.” There are already whispers of what this may look like: as an MP, Tommy cares for Birmingham and its citizens far more than any “legitimate” politicians, meeting with them personally to ensure their needs are met; as of last season, he attempted a Sinatra-style assassination of a rising fascist simply because it was the right thing to do. “Goodness” is an option in the world of Peaky Blinders; the only question is what form it will take on a landscape plagued by corruption at every turn. 

Regardless of what form his “redemption” might take, it’s negligible that Tommy will ever meet all the criteria of an archetypal hero as we understand it today. He is far more evocative of the heroes of Ancient Greece, of the Old West, of the Golden Age of Piracy, of Feudal Japan – ferocious, magnitudinous figures who move and make the earth turn with them, who navigate the ever-changing landscapes of society and refuse to abide by its rules, simultaneously destructive and life-affirming. And that’s what makes him so damn compelling.

Who needs traditional morality, when you look this damn good?

Other examples: 

Alfie Solomons from Peaky Blinders. Tommy’s friend and sometimes mortal enemy, the two develop an intriguing, almost romantic connection due to their shared experiences of oppression and powerful intellects. Steven Knight has referred to Alfie as “the only person Tommy can really talk to,” possibly because he is Tommy’s only intellectual equal, resulting in a strange form of spiritual matrimony between the two.

Omar Little from The Wire, an oftentimes tender and compassionate man who cares deeply for his loved ones, and does his best to promote morality and idealism in a society which offers him few viable methods of doing so. He may rob drug dealers at gunpoint, but he also refuses to harm innocents, dislikes swearing, and views his actions as a method of decreasing crime in the area. 

Chiron from Moonlight, a sensitive and empathetic young man who became a drug dealer because society had provided him with virtually no other options for self-sustenance. The same could be said for Chiron’s mentor and father figure, Juan, a kind and nurturing man who is also a drug dealer. 

To a lesser extent, Tony from The Sopranos, and other fictional Italian American gangsters. The Sopranos often negotiates the roots of mob culture as a response to  inequalities, while also holding its characters accountable for their actions by pointing out that Tony and his ilk are now rich and privileged and face little systematic discrimination.

Walter White from Breaking Bad – an underpaid, chronically disrespected teacher who has to work two jobs and still can’t afford to pay for medical treatment. More on him on the next page. 

Antiheroes show us how we can be the villains. 

As demonstrated by: Walter White from Breaking Bad. 

Why he could be a hero: He’s a brilliant, underappreciated chemist whose work contributed to the winning of a Nobel Prize. He’s also forging his own path in the face of incredible adversity, and attempting to provide for his family in the event of his death.

Why he’s an antihero: In his pre-meth days, Walt failed to meet the exceptionalism associated with heroes, as a moral but socially passive underachiever living an unremarkable life. At the end of his transformation, he is exceptional at what he does, but has completely lost his moral standards.

What he can teach us: G.K. Chesterton wrote, “Fairy tales do not tell children that the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” Following this analogy, it is equally important that our stories show us we, ourselves, can be the dragon. Or the villain, to be more specific, because being a dragon sounds strangely awesome.

Walter White of Breaking Bad is a paragon of antiheroism for a reason: he subverts almost every traditional aspect of heroism. From the opening shots of Walt careening along in an RV, clad in tighty whities and a gas mask, we recognize that he is neither physically capable, nor competent in the manner we’ve come to expect from our heroes. He is not especially conventionally attractive, nor are women particularly drawn to him. He does not excel at his career or garner respect. As the series progresses, Walt does develop the competence, confidence, courage, and resilience we expect of heroes, but he is no longer the moral protagonist: he is self-motivated, vindictive, and callous. And somehow, he still remains identifiable, which is integral to his efficacy.

But let us return to the beginning of the series, and talk about how, exactly, Walt subverts our expectations from the get-go. Walt is the epitome of an everyman: he’s fifty years old, middle class, passive, and worried about identifiable problems – his health, his bills, his physically disabled son, and his unborn baby. Whereas Tommy Shelby’s angelic looks, courage, and intellect subvert our preconceptions about what a criminal can be, Walt’s initial unremarkability subverts our preconceptions about who can be a criminal. The hook of the series is the idea that a man so chronically average could make and distribute meth.

Just because an audience is hooked by a concept, however, does not mean that they’ll necessarily continue watching. Breaking Bad could have easily veered into ludicrosity, if it weren’t for another important factor: character. Walt is immediately and intensely relatable, and he somehow retains our empathy for the entirety of the series, even at his least forgivable.

When we first meet Walt, his talents are underappreciated, he’s overqualified for his menial jobs, chronically disrespected by everyone around him, underpaid, and trapped in a joyless, passionless life in which the highlight of his day is a halfhearted handjob from his distracted wife. And to top it all off? He has terminal lung cancer. Happy birthday, Walt.

We root for him for the same reason we root for Dumbo, Rudolph, Harry Potter: he’s an underdog. The odds are stacked against him, and we want to see him triumph. Which is why it’s cathartic, for us and for Walt, when he finally finds a profession in which he can excel – even if that profession is the ability to manufacture incredibly high-quality meth. His former student Jesse Pinkman – a character so interesting that there’s a genuine risk he’ll hijack this essay – appreciates his skill, and this early appreciation is what makes his relationship with Jesse feel so much more genuine than Walt’s relationship with his family, even as their dynamic becomes increasingly unhealthy and Walt uses Jesse to bolster his meth business and his ego. This deeply dysfunctional but heartfelt father-son connection is Walt’s tether to humanity as he becomes increasingly inhumane, while also demonstrating his descent from morality. It has been pointed out that one can gauge how far-gone Walt is from his moral ideals by how much Jesse is suffering.

But to return to the initial point, it is imperative that we first empathize with Walt in order to adequately understand his descent. Aside from the fact that almost all characters are more interesting if the audience can or wants to empathize with them, Walt’s relatability makes it easy to understand our own potential for toxic and destructive behaviors. We are the protagonist of our own story, but we aren’t necessarily its hero.

Similarly, we understand how easily we can justify destructive actions, and how quickly reasonable feelings of anger and injustice swerve into self-indulgent vindication and entitlement. Walt claims to be cooking meth to provide for his family, and this may be partially true; but he also denies financial help from his rich friends out of spite, and admits later to his wife Skylar that he primarily did it for himself because he was good at it and “it made (him) feel alive.”

This also forces us to examine our preconceptions, and essentially do Walt’s introspections for him: whereas Peaky Blinders emphasize the fact that Tommy and his family would never have been able to achieve prosperity by obeying society’s laws, Walt feels jilted out of success he was promised by a meritocratic system that doesn’t currently exist. He has essentially achieved our current understanding of the American dream – a house with a pool, a beautiful wife and family, an honest job – but it left him unable to provide for his wife and children or even pay for his cancer treatment. He’s also unhappy and alienated from his passions and fellow human beings. With this in mind, it’s understandable – if absurd – that the only way he can attain genuine happiness and excel is through becoming a meth cook. In this way, Breaking Bad is both a scathing critique of our current society, and a haunting reminder that there’s not as much standing between ourselves and villainy as we might like to believe.  

So are we all slaves to this system of entitlement and resentment, of shattered and unfulfilling dreams? No, because Breaking Bad provides us with an intriguing and vital counterpoint: Jesse Pinkman. Whereas Walt was bolstered with promises that he was gifted and had a bright future ahead of him, Jesse was assured by every authority figure in his life that he would never amount to anything. However, Jesse proves himself skilled at what he’s passionate about: art, carpentry, and of course, cooking meth. Whereas Walt perpetually rationalizes and shirks responsibility, Jesse compulsively takes responsibility, even for things that weren’t his fault. Whereas Walt found it increasingly acceptable to endanger or harm bystanders, Jesse continuously worked to protect innocents – especially children – from getting hurt. Though Jesse suffered immensely throughout the course of the show – and the subsequent movie, El Camino – the creators say that he successfully made it to Alaska and started a carpentry business. Some theorists have supposed that Jesse might be a Jesus allegory – a carpenter who suffers for the sins of others. Regardless of whether this is true, it is interesting, and amusing to imagine Jesus using the word “bitch” so often. Though he didn’t get the instant gratification of immediate success that Walt got, he was able to carve (no pun intended – carpentry, you know) a place for himself in the world. 

Jesse isn’t a perfect person, but he reminds us that improving ourselves and creating a better life is an option, even if Walt’s rise to power was more initially thrilling. So take heart: there’s a bit of Heisenberg in all of us, but there’s also a bit of Jesse Pinkman. 

The savior we all need, but don’t deserve.

Other examples:

Bojack from Bojack Horseman. Like Walt, the audience can’t help but empathize with Bojack, understand his decision-making, and even see ourselves in him. However, the narrative ruthlessly demonstrates the consequences of his actions, and shows us how negatively his selfishness and self-destructive qualities impact others.   

Again, Tony Soprano. Tony, even at his very worst, is easy to like and empathize with. Despite his position as a mafia Godfather, he’s unfailingly human. Which makes the destruction caused by his actions all the more resonant.

Antiheroes emphasize the absurdity of contemporary culture (and how we must operate in it.)

As demonstrated by: Marty Byrde from Ozark.

Why he could be a hero: He’s a loving father who ultimately just wants to provide for and ensure the safety of his family. He’s also fiercely intelligent, with excellent negotiative, interpersonal, and strategic skills that allows him to talk his way out of almost any situation without the use of violence.

Why he’s an antihero: He launders money for a ruthless drug cartel, and has no issue dipping his toes into various illegal activities.

Why he’s compelling: Marty is an antihero of the modern era. He has a remarkable ability to talk his way into or out of any situation, and he’s also a master of using a pre-constructed system of rules and privileges to his benefit.

In the very first episode, he goes from literally selling the American Dream, to avoiding murder at the hands of a ruthless drug cartel by planning to launder money for them in the titular Ozarks. Despite his long history of dabbling in illegality, Marty has no firearms – a questionable choice for someone on the run from violent drug kingpins, but a testament to his ability to rely on his oratory skills and nothing else. He doesn’t hesitate to engage an apparently violent group of hillbillies to request the return of his stolen cash, because he knows he can talk them into giving it back to him. The only time he engages other characters in physical violence, he immediately gets pummeled, because physical altercation has never been his form of currency. Not that he’s subjected to physical violence particularly often, either: Marty is a master of the corporate landscape, which makes him a master of the criminal landscape. He is brilliant at avoiding the consequences of his actions. 

It’s easy to like and admire Marty for his cleverness, for being able to escape from apparently impermeable situations with words as his only weapon. He’s got a reassuring, dad-ly sort of charisma that immediately endears the viewer, and offers respite from the seemingly endless threats coming from every direction. He unquestionably loves his family, including his adulterous wife. As such, it’s easy to forget that Marty is being exploited by the same system that exploits all of us: crony capitalism. The polar opposite of meritocratic capitalism – in which success is based on hard work, ingenuity, and, hence the name, merit – crony capitalism benefits only the conglomerates that plague the global landscape like cancerous warts, siphoning money off of workers and natural capital, keeping them indentured with basic necessities and the idle promise of success.

Marty isn’t benefiting from his hard work in the Ozarks. Everything he makes goes right back to the drug cartel who continuously threatens the life of him and his family. He is rewarded for his efforts with a picturesque house, a boat, and the appearance of success, but he is not allowed to keep the fruits of his labor. Marty may be an expert at navigating the corporate and criminal landscape, but it still exploits him. In this manner, Marty embodies both the American business, the American worker, and a sort of inversion of the American dream.

In this same manner, Marty, the other characters, and even the Ozarks themselves embody the modern dissonance between appearance and reality. Marty’s family looks like something you’d respect to see on a Christmas card from your DILF-y, successful coworker, but it’s bubbling with dysfunctionality. His wife is cheating on him with a much-older man, and instead of confronting her about it, he first hired a private investigator and then spent weeks rewatching the footage, paralyzed with options and debating what to do. The problem somewhat solves itself when his wife’s lover is unceremoniously murdered by the cartel, and Wendy and Marty are driven into a sort of matrimonial business partnership motivated by the shared interest of protecting their children, but this also further demonstrates how corporate even their family dealings have become. His children, though precocious, are forced to contend with age-inappropriate levels of responsibility and the trauma of sudden relocation, juxtaposed with a childhood of complete privilege up until this point.

Conversely, the shadow of the Byrde family is arguably the Langmores. Precocious teenagers Ruth and Wyatt can initially be shrugged off as local hillbillies and budding con-artists, but much like the Shelby family of the Peaky Blinders, they prove to be extremely intelligent individuals suffering beneath a society that doesn’t care about their stifled potential. Systemic poverty is a bushfire that spreads from one generation to the next, stoked by the prejudices of authority figures and abusive parental figures who refuse to embrace change out of a misguided sense of class-loyalty. 

Almost every other character we meet eventually inverts our expectations of them: from the folksy, salt-of-the-earth farmers who grow poppies for opium and murder more remorselessly than the cartel itself, to the cookie-cutter FBI agent whose behavior becomes increasingly volatile and chaotic, to the heroin-filled Bibles handed out by an unknowing preacher, to the secrets hidden by the lake itself, every detail conveys corruption hidden behind a postcard-pretty picture of tranquility and success.

Marty’s awareness of this illusion, and what lurks behind it, is perhaps the greatest subversion of all. Marty knows that the world of appearance and the world of reality coexist, and he was blessed with a natural talent for navigating within the two. Like Walter White, Marty makes us question our assumptions about who a criminal can be – despite the fact that many successful, attractive, middle-aged family men launder money and juggle criminal activities, it’s still jarring to witness, which tells us something about how image informs our understanding of reality. Socially privileged, white-collar criminals simply have more control over how they’re portrayed than an inner-city gang, or impoverished teenagers. However, unlike Walt, Marty’s criminal activities are not any kind of middle-aged catharsis: they’re a way of life, firmly ingrained in the corporate landscape. They were present long before he arrived on the scene, and he knows it. He just has to navigate them. 

Just like our shining, messianic heroes can teach us about truth, justice, and the American way, so too does each antihero have something to teach us: they teach us that society doesn’t reward those who follow its instructions, nor does it often provide an avenue of morality. Even if you live a life devoid of apparent sin, every privilege is paid for by someone else’s sacrifice. But the best antiheroes are not beacons of nihilism – they show us the beauty that can emerge from even the ugliest of situations. Peaky Blinders is, at its core, a love story between Tommy Shelby and the family he crawled out of his grave for, just as Breaking Bad is ultimately a deeply dysfunctional tale of a father figure and son. Ozark, like its predecessors, is about family – the only authenticity in a society that operates on deception, illusion, and corruption. They teach us that even in the worst times and situations, love can compel us, redeem us, bind us closer together. Only then can we face the dragons of life, and feel just a bit more heroic.

Other examples:

Don Draper from Mad Men. A similarly Shakespearian figure for the modern era, Don is a man who appears to have everything – perfect looks, a beautiful wife and children, a prestigious job. He could have stepped out of an ad for the American Dream. And yet, he feels disconnected from his life, isolated from others by the very societal rules he, as a member of the ad agency, helps to propagate. It helps that he’s literally leading a borrowed life, inherited from the stolen identity of his deceased fellow soldier, and was actually an impoverished, illegitimate farmboy whose childhood abuse permanently damaged his ability to form relationships. The Hopper-esque alienation evoked by the world of Mad Men really deserves an essay all it’s own, and his wife Betty – whose Stepford-level mask of cheerful subservience hides seething unhappiness and unfulfilled potential – is a particularly intriguing figure to explore. Maybe in my next essay, on the importance of the antiheroine.

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