#code vs magic

[kathrahender]

So let me get this straight:

You're okay with your children watching murder scenes or worse things in media, but when two boys/two girls kiss is suddenly too much for you.

Do you realize how horrible does that sound?

You prefer your children watching something ilegal and immoral (like yk, killing someone) over letting them watch two persons showing that love has no gender.

Very logical.

Very very logical.

And not inhuman at all.

[faunandfloraas]

[sly Changbin is now invisible]

[sanchoyoscribbles]

magical girl misa misa: emissary of love & death! 🖤

I said I was going to hit more characters with the magical girl beam this year and I didn't get drawing misa out of my system with the last drawing, SO. More of her :)

[sitishafiyyah]

Art vs Artist 2023 (Remake)

[thecoochiefairy]

grillz. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 8.0K word count. wifeblackfem!reader, husband! onyankapon, football! onyankopon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon, dominant!onyankapon, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, pussy eating, choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk/aggressive dirty talk, condomless sex, creaming, slapping ass/face, kissing, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ y’all already know what it is, it’s yo’ favorite couple. i just hope you like this one. ony is very grillz by nelly + paul wall coded, idk. anyways. lemme hush. for reference, my girl’s hair is in that curly/braids jayda-wayda hairstyle if it seemed confusing ! aight, love y’all. bye. teehee.

visual. visual. visual. visual.

𝓐ᥫ᭡:: your husband is invited to a basketball game.

YOU MIGHT’VE BEEN MORE NEUROTIC THAN YOUR MOTHER IN LAW. You came to that conclusion as you sprinted through the house, the scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting through the air each time you found something else to fixate on. 

You were supposed to be ready an hour ago. Your husband had been invited to a Lakers VS Pelicans game—and if being honest, this might’ve been your first outing since you had your third baby. 

Saint, you’d named him. A little too on the nose, but Onyankopon wanted to keep the tradition of your children’s names going. This pregnancy had been entirely different than Salem or Sage—pains, sickness, barely able to walk, accidents on yourself—you 

endured all the worst parts within your trimesters, but you were so blessed to have a healthy five month old boy. 

Now having three children, life was a lot different than you prepared for it to be. You were a full time stay at home wife. But it came with a price—being without Onyankopon for weeks at a time as he traveled, the overwhelming amount of time that you spent taking care of your children alone—not to mention the lack of dates, and sex. Hard to believe that you hadn’t hunched on your husband in six months. But having children all close in age required an extensive amount of attention, and although you’d die for them, a small part of you just missed being alone with your husband. And now, you had the opportunity—you were just a little too anxious. 

“Papa? Do you wanna pack your football?” 

Your eldest was now three, Salem being the sweetest baby boy you could ask for—he was always helpful with his one year old sister, being the big brother he was always excited to be. You were currently trying to pack up all three of your children for their grandma's house, while you were supposed to be getting ready. Onyankopon was too busy with a conference call to notice your hysteria.

“Yes, mommy. Can I pack my Legos?” 

“Of course, Papa—“ your eyes flick around the bed, noticing that something was missing. You scratch at the bonnet atop of your head, a sigh passing your lips as you question, “You wanna be a big boy and go find Sage’s binky for me? Did she drop it in the toy box?” 

He’s already running out. You turned around to look at the packed suitcases, eyes narrowing as you tried to think if you were missing anything. 

“Say-Say?—did we pack your baby brother’s socks and diaper bag? I know I put down Sage’s—“

Speaking of Sage, your one year old sits on the bed, previously focused on a fruit pouch that’s now drained—Her miniature fingers wave up for your attention. 

“Mommmma—Abu.”

You exhale, “You want your apple slices, pretty girl?” 

She nods, hands clapping together, 

“Yes, yes.” 

She looks around the room, seemingly waiting for the magical fruit that she wants to appear out of thin air—and at this point, you might’ve needed to be a magician.

“Okay,” you huff softly, “Just—okay.”

You place her on your hip as you throw on your house slippers, quickly padding your feet down the sleek stairs of your condo. The open kitchen nearly takes up the downstairs area, your hand reaching for the miniature fridge where you keep Sage’s snacks refrigerated. 

That’s when you stop. Your eyes flick over to your husband as he stands on the porch—you’re able to hear the baritone of his voice as he has the door cracked, pouring food into the bowls of your two Dobermans. You weren’t trying to run into him before you weren’t ready, but it was unfortunate that you lived together—and that Sage wanted those damn Apple slices.

You sat her on the counter as you pulled open the container of freshly cut fruit, putting one in her hand as your voice softly replied, “You’re welcome,” to her babble of “Thanyou.” 

Seeing Onyankopon reminded you of all the reasons you’d married him. The sable shirt he wears hugs the sculpt of his muscular frame, covered by an oversized varsity jacket that fits his broad shoulders perfectly. His cargo pants and forest green Nike dunks pull the entire outfit together, chain heavy on his neck as it shows his jersey number on the pendant. You’d redone his cornrows for tonight, neatly braided as he cleaned up his hairline, crawling all the way down to his facial hair around his lips and jawline. But the current star of the show was the glitter in his mouth, nearly ten bands of fully diamond encrusted grills he’d bought for the both of you—you just hadn’t worn yours yet. He was erotically intimidating at times, your eyes falling to the band on his ring finger. He was yours. 

“Baby,” his deep voice catches your attention, now realizing he was walking back into the house, “I know a nigga ain’t losin’ his mind—why you ain’t dressed?” 

The moment you go to answer, Salem comes flying downstairs. 

“Mommy! I can’t find Sage’s binky!”

Your eyes flicker back to your husband, pulling Sage onto your hip as you confirm, “That’s why.” 

“Why you ain’t come tell me, huh? I would’ve helped you. I was just talkin’ to coach about our last game.”

He looks good up close—smells good too, the scent of his cologne pulls you closer as you breathe in the aroma. 

You shake your head, “You know how I get before they go off to your mom’s house. I wanna make sure Salem has all of his favorite toys, Sage has her snacks and—“

You stop yourself, “Do you remember if I pumped milk for Saint? I fed him before I put him down for a nap, I just—“

And in that exact moment, the baby monitor goes off. Saint weeps through the microphone, wanting the attention of his momma. 

You dig your nails into the top of your bonnet, scratching away your anxieties as you sigh, “Maybe you should just go, Ony. The Pelicans gave you front row seats, I don’t want you to miss that.” 

You weren’t the only one stressed. Onyankopon had been having a hard time balancing football and family life, but he’d been there every second since the season was close to being over. He knew you needed time with him—you’d been cooped up for months.

He raises an eyebrow, “And leave you here? I thought you was tryna’ have a night out with yo’ nigga— I’m tryna’ show you off to the whole world tonight, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until you ready—C’mon, Imma’ help you find lil’ mama’s binky.” 

“Ony—“

“Mama, c’mon now. I wanna make this easier on the both of us.”

He takes Sage into his arms, the one year old babbling giggles as he blows his lips onto her cheek, “You act like you the only girl inna’ house that need attention, huh? Let yo’ momma breathe.” 

You sigh, “I’m not even close to being ready, baby. Don’t we still gotta’ drop them off to your mom’s—“

“My momma gon’ come finish packing them up. You tryna’ find another reason to skip out on this date?”

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad. He was already dressed, up and ready to get out the house without the tribulation of three little ones. This would be an adult night. 

You lean your head into his shoulder as you murmur, “I’m actin’ like my damn momma.” 

A soft chuckle passes Onyankopon’s lips, a hand reaching down to cradle the back of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

 “Sum’ like that.”

“Don’t be funny, nigga. I ain’t asking for commentary.”

“Aight, Aight. Forreal’—Imma’ make sure they all packed up and go change Saint. I know he givin’ that diaper the business while he sleep.”

He nudges you softly—your arms crossed, eyes looking down to the floor. He knew that you were overwhelmed, and a date didn’t even seem practical at this point. A hand rubs your chin as he tilts your face towards him, a finger curling under your jaw, “You gon’ give up on me now?”

You hated how sweet he could be at times. You pout a bit, “I’m sorry. I’m going, okay? You love me?” 

Onyankopon’s hand cups your cheek, pulling you into a kiss, his lips a bit harsh as he whispers against them. 

“You just askin’ to hear me say it. You already know what it is.”

A smile finds a way to your lips, hands wrapping around his neck while standing on your tippy toes, pressing pecks into his jawline, ”I love you too.”

“Hurry up. Gon’ make that ass clean so I can put my tongue in it—“

“Onyankopon!”

“See? You already gettin’ me started. Should’ve been ready, I wouldn’t have said allat’.”

Here was something else new that came with your third child. Your body. You’d always been curvier in your hips and thighs, but after Saint, that seemed to tenfold. 

The black mini skirt you wore was now was smaller than mini, the poke of your ass nearly peeking from the bottom of your girlishly pink thong. Your matching black baby tee clung around the full weight of your breast, going from a C to a Double D in the span of six months. 

You’d braided the front of your hair and perfected the swoop of your edges, the rest of your tresses bouncing in wand curls above your shoulders. Your lashes darkened your slender eyes, honey freckles bouncing off the complexion of your caramel skin, heart shaped lips coated in brown liner. You weren’t used to heavy jewelry, as Onyankopon had bought you a real anklet—it was weighted, cold around your skin, matching the silver sparkles in the pink platform sandals you wore. 

Your lips parted a sigh as you turned to the side—you weren’t insecure, but seeing the full figure that motherhood had given you in tight material was a bit nerve wracking, especially after months of only oversized clothing. 

 “I don’t look—different, do I?” 

Onyankopon’s eyes narrow at you, chin hovering over your body as he wraps his arm around your neck, gently putting you within a headlock. You smelled good, a bit sweeter. 

”Different,” he repeats, licking his lips, “You look like a muhfuckin’ meal, baby. A nigga might have to keep you inside.” 

You hum a soft laugh, trailing your French tips against the arm that wraps around your neck, “I told you about puttin’ me in these headlocks like I’m one of your teammates,” you roll your eyes. 

He presses a kiss to your cheek, watching you through the mirror, “What’chu’ mean? Thought you liked this shit, it be makin’ you blush like a lil’ school girl.”

He lets go of the pressure, but not the arm around you, “You look gorgeous, Mama. You gon’ stop all that overthinkin’ now?”

“Maybe.” 

You pull his arm down as you turn, running your fingers over the shown tattoos on his neck and face. You hum, “You look good,” sticking your tongue out as you await for his mouth to follow. His grills shine within your vision.

He grunts into a chuckle, leaning down to press his lips against yours. His tongue is cold from the ice he chews, lips always softer than they appeared. His mouth pops from yours as mutters, “You tryna’ distract me.”

You give him a smile, showing off the pure shine of the matching ones he’d bought you. The heart shape of your lips made them look perfect, sultry even. 

“You like em’?”

“You know I like em’,” he rasps. 

His hands are harsh, grabbing onto the sides of your small face as he pulls you back in for another kiss. His lips suck on the plush of yours, “Matchin’ a nigga fly.” 

“You better like them for ten bands, nigga. You be gettin’ real besides yourself cause you got money.” 

“You talkin’, but that money takes care of this family, and be buyin’ yo’ ass allem’ bags, perfumes, and shoes. Daddy be takin’ care of you, huh?” 

His eyes narrow into a snarl, smacking one hand against the plump of your ass, watching it bounce through the skirt it’s hidden behind, making you giggle as he grunts, “I don’t?” 

“You do,” you kiss at his jaw, “Did Saint wake up when you changed him?”

“Nah, I just put him in my momma car. Sage was good too, you know crybaby quick to start screamin’ if she don’t get that binky—and Salem, he just excited to go to grandmas. You know we’ a team, right? I always got you, girl.” 

You sigh, “I know. You um—got his diaper bag?”

“Nah.” 

He smacks your ass again, “Goddamn, girl—Ion’ even know what you just asked me.“ 

You giggle, “The diaper bag, dork.” 

“Can’t hear you. Yo’ ass covering all the sound in the room.” 

“Onyankopon.” 

“Aight, lawd. You ain’t no fun.” 

In this moment, you almost felt similar to a baby—like you’d just gotten thrown into the world without any preparation. You forgot how much you hated the spotlight that was required being married to your husband—this was a Pelicans basketball game, and he somehow got more attention just being there as the New Orleans Saints’ quarterback. Your nerves got the best of you as you pulled up to the front of the stadium, seeing the valet workers prepare to open your passenger door. It was—chaos.

“You’ straight?” 

You give him a nod, knowing you weren’t entirely.

The paparazzi was always a nuisance, and even more so with the news of your newly born baby—Onyankopon could tell that he was being watched as you step out of the car, the flash of  light going off as his hand holds on to your hand firmly, pressing your body into his, as if he was shielding you. You lower your head as you hear him politely answering questions, cameras flashing in every direction—you hated this part every time.

“I’m excited to be able to come to a Pelicans game close to our off season, they been on a roll lately—and Zion, that nigga crazy onna’ court. We gon’ make it a close game tonight—hopefully.” 

The questions were quick to come up, “You have any bets on who’s winning tonight?” 

“Bets? Nah, ion’ do that shit,” he turns to you, “My wife my lil’ good luck charm—she gon’ be the reason they win tonight.”

You lean your head into his shoulder, a shy smile finding its way to your lips as you squeeze his hand a little tighter. He pulls you into a small kiss, the cameras flashing from the showmance between the two of you. 

It was quieter on the inside, the amount of people, security, and other familiar faces crowding the arena as you’re guided to the front row of the court. It was a couple minutes before the game started, and you already knew the drill—you crossed your leg over the other as you fixed your hair, re-touched your lip liner, sprayed yourself of perfume—all the awkward ways you could distract yourself as Onyankopon socialized with others sitting in the row next to you. Unlike you, he was extremely friendly. You would give a soft smile each time he introduced you to someone, but that was about it. You were more comfortable talking to your three year old than most adults.

He’d kissed your cheek multiple times, trying to coax you out of your shell as your eyes stayed transfixed onto the players practicing on the court. He could sense that you were trying your hardest to fit in, but he didn’t want that. He just wanted you to be yourself. 

“You want anything to drink, baby?” He leans down, lips close to your ear as he holds your thigh, “They got food too—it’s gon’ take a minute to get to you, might as well see what you want now.”

You shake your head, eyes flickering up to him, “I’m okay.”

“Don’t be lyin’. I know them’ lil’ apple slices you be stealin’ off our daughter ain’t that good—“

Onyankopon cuts himself off when he sees you smile. He’d always been good at making you laugh, and it wasn’t any different now. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “They got Sangria? And loaded fries?”

“Oh aight, you tryna’ turn up tonight? You’ scandalous,” which makes you giggle as he continues, “Heard you. I’ll be back.” 

The moment he began walking away, the stadium camera seemed to find him— your husband appeared directly onto the Jumbotron—it showed a quick reel of him on the field, the crowd creating an echo as they cheered. His grills shine under the camera as he smiles, throwing up his fingers as he greets the cheers—It makes you blush. 

The game officially starts. Right on time, a hand rubs at the back of your neck, Onyankopon sitting next to you as he presses a cold drink into your hands, “You need me to turn on yo’ seat fan?”

You lean closer to him as you steal the fries out of his hands, “Nope. Just want you to enjoy the game, baby. I don’t wanna see you cry when the Lakers put belt to ass on the Pelicans,” you giggle.

“I ain’t even gon’ put that Lakers blasphemy into the universe. You actin’ bad.” 

“And you’ delusional.”

“Call it what you want!” 

The game is a brawl. Cheers take over the stadium as the Pelicans manage to get a few points over the Lakers, who are just barely in the lead. You hold back your laugh as you watch Onyankopon lean into the court, eyes narrowing as his voice carries, “What you doin’, nigga? You’ gon’ let him take the ball from you? Ref—you gon’ call that foul? Nigga tripped his feet clear as day!”

You sigh as you take a sip of the sweet alcohol flowing between your lips—this was your husband. 

It was now half time, and you couldn’t lie—you were feeling the effects of your Sangria. You might’ve become a little mouthy as you watched fouls or unfair calls of the ball, nearly as into it as your husband was. When they were back to showing familiar faces against the Jumbotron, your eyes flickered up as you heard the crowd go back to roaring, seeing yourself and Onyankopon in your seats as you watched the game. You gave a shy wave into the screen, giggling as your husband childishly pecked your cheek repeatedly along the Jumbotron. 

“You prettier on the big screen—shy ass,” he nudges your shoulder, “You still good?”

You nod, “I might order another Sangria—or a Margarita, or—one of those. What’s in Sangria, baby?” You tug at his letterman, humming through your question as you lean into his lap. 

A chuckle leaves his lips, “What I’m gon’ do with you, girl? You’ tipsy already.”

And although you were a little tipsy, this was the most laid back you’d ever been in a while. He missed your playful attitude, and even more so when you were comfortable. 

His hand rubs at your shoulder, pecking your cheek as he says, “Ion’ know. How bout’ we order both and mix ‘em into one cup?”

“You’re so smart,” you sigh, “My sexy, smart man.” 

Yup. That was it—you were now drunk.

Well, blame the Sangria-rita you’d just made. You were always able to hold yourself together in an environment where you couldn’t show just how intoxicated you were. But being around your husband without your kids, it might’ve had you a little more relaxed. And horny. When the game ended—and the Pelicans won, of course—instead of going home, Onyankopon had gotten a call from one of his teammates, mentioning that they would all be out at the club for another teammate's birthday, their wives joining in at the section as well. And of course, Onyankopon's friendly ass just couldn’t say no.

He could see the nerves in your face as you arrived at the club. Your eyes scan around, seeing familiar teammates with their wives and girlfriends. You’d never met half of these girls, and the ones you had met already seemed to be having fun together. 

Onyankopon leaned down, lips near your ear as he gently said, “We can go home, Mama. I can go pick up the kids on the way back—“

Were you giving off that you weren’t enjoying yourself? Hell. The Sangria might’ve worn off and made you a little sleepy, but you really weren’t ready to go home. You pull him down by his jaw as you interrupt,“I’m fine, baby. Promise—just need to hear a lil’ music. I want you to have fun.” 

His nose nuzzles against your hair, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he pulls you into his side, “I’m always gon’ have fun if I’m with you, girl. Come on.”

A hand comes down to the lower part of your back, leading you right into a VIP section. Onyankopon was greeting his teammates, a soft wave pulling at your fingers as you greeted the wives and girlfriends. You could be friendly—they just weren’t your type of crowd. 

But of course, you loved your husband enough to try something once. You took a couple of shots with them, Hennessy their choice of drink. When you mentioned that you didn’t enjoy the taste of more common brown liquors, one of them gave you an eye roll, and that was your cue to head back over to your husband. Maybe it was the liquor in your system, but you might’ve been a little irritated from that interaction. 

You wrapped your arms around Onyankopon’s neck as you sat on his lap, trying to hide the annoyance in your face—Too bad you weren’t good with that.

“I see that face you makin’. What happened?” 

You try to shake it off, “I be tryna’ be cool with them hoes. They’ weird,” your murmur to him, going into your purse as you search for your phone.

“You gettin’ mad for no reason,” he holds your phone out for you, “They just be tryna’ fit in with the crowd.” 

“You don’t need to give me explanations for bitches you don’t even know,” you flick your eyes back up to him, “Ain’t nobody mad. If I was, I would’ve said that.”

He raises an eyebrow. Onyankopon leans down into your ear, a hand pulling you in by the cradle of your neck as he questions, “What ‘you gettin’ an attitude with me for?”

“What I look like startin’ an argument with you in front of everybody? I’m just sayin’, I don’t like them girls.” 

“You don’t like nobody. Yo’ ass mean.”  

You narrow your eyes at that. You then wrap your arms further around his neck as you smile, “I like you, Daddy.”

Your eyes. He could see it all in your eyes. 

He raises an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling you into another one, a bit more harsh as you feel his hand caress across the bottom of your thigh, a thumb stroking against your skin. 

“Keep behavin’, girl. You gon’ let a nigga dance wit’ you, or you gon’ have an attitude about that too?”

“You gon’ throw some ones on me if I dance?” 

You move your hips along his lap, giggling through the shots you were beginning to feel in your system.

“I’m throwin’ hundreds out this bitch if it’s you.” 

Onyankopon’s hand smacks at the side of your thigh, “You talkin’ too much. C’mon.”

You stand in front of him, your eyes a bit blurry from the lowlights of the club, which somehow makes your tipsiness worse—This was a side of you that hadn’t shown in months, the arch of your silhouette drowning in his sight as you hold the edge of your skirt, ass shaking within his face. You dip your head down to watch him from behind, teeth sinking into the plush of your lip.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

Swat, his hand palms your ass hard. The sting rushes into a pleasure you hadn’t expected, making the skin flush.

The mixture of a giggle and whimper passes your lips, barely audible as you hear the music thumping around you. You’re really horny now.

Your brain is foggy—so foggy that you tug your panties to the side for a millisecond, letting him see the glisten of your pussy. You feel his palm latch along your throat from behind, tugging you back onto his lap. 

He grunts, “You tryna’ have me kill a nigga in here.”

“I think that Hennessy’ talking,” you giggle to him.

His hand smacks your ass harder, the sound piercing the atmosphere. The music wasn’t going hard enough to mask it. 

“Yo’ ass gon’ be the reason we leave. Keep fuckin’ playin’.”

“Okay—down, boy. You got a teammate to celebrate his birthday with. Go, imma’ babysit another drink.”

“You gon’ behave?”  he tilts your chin up, finding your eyes in his.

“I always do. Kiss?”

Onyankopon’s lips are on yours in seconds. He knocks your head up as he taps your chin, grills shining a blue tint under the lights of the club before he leaves you alone. 

The thing is, you didn’t exactly do what you’d told him you would.

You’d ordered a lemon drop martini, doing the opposite of babysitting your drink as you consumed it in minutes. A small smile spread across your lips as your mother-in-law sent pictures of your babies enjoying their time at grandmas, and although you missed your kids—the sight of your husband across the club had your attention. 

You could admit it now—you were fully drunk. The club was closing, and you were entirely too far away from home for Onyankopon to drive back. So you’d both decided on a hotel for the night—and with your intoxicated minds, you might’ve chosen the nicest one in New Orleans, booking the rooftop of the tallest building. 

You giggle as he carries you bridal style, using his foot to open the door to the room—and it’s a sight to see.

The floor is marbled, an expensive crystal chandelier casting warm shades of orange and gold across the room. The walls were high, mirrors reflecting the lights from the chandelier. The bed is huge, with a golden, lacy canopy.

You gasp, “Baby—there’s a pool!” 

An infinity pool to be specific—it was beautiful, lit up against the night skyline, the sounds of jazz music faint in the background from the echoes of downtown. 

“Baby. Be care—“  

You almost fall, saved by Onyankopon as he lifts you up by the back of your thighs, holding you in front of him as your legs wrapped around his waist, throat giggling as you hold onto him, “Oops.”

“You drunk as hell, Mama.” 

He tosses you onto the bed before you can answer—And you squeal, drunk laughter passing your lips as you bounce up once, eyes still on the man in front of you—and God, he was your everything. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol you’d been drinking all night, but you missed him—and now, you wanted him all over you.

You watch him undress himself—that jacket hits the floor, tattoos on his arms and biceps beginning to outline underneath the lights.

You groan, “I’m hot, baby. I wanna go swimming.” 

“Ion’ know,” he’s slow with his words, easing out of his pants, “I could just rub up on you, baby. Let you fall asleep in my arms.”

“That’s boring,” your eyes wander his body as you bite your bottom lip. Your legs spread a bit on the bed, “Can I go look at it?”

You were a drunken mess, your words slurred, your sentences a bit incoherent as he shakes his head, chuckling at the sight. 

“You can’t even think straight, girl. Just lay yo’ ass down.”

You roll your eyes, huffing, “Whatever. I gotta go pee.” 

You didn’t give him time to answer. 

Your body was stumbling off of the bed—but instead of the bathroom, you made your way directly towards the pool. You’re tugging off the material of your clothes, stepping out of the skirt you wear, pulling the baby tee over your head effortlessly—you’re bare up top, nipples shining a pretty brown under the lights, your thong molding along your hips at the bottom.

“You’ hard headed.”

His voice is a chuckle, but his eyes glare at you. He watches your body dive into the pool. 

“I thought you was usin’ the bathroom,” His voice is low, eyes at your figure that flows beneath the water as his feet begin to follow you outside. 

And then you come up—Your eyes are the only thing above water, slender as you swim to the edge. 

“It feels good, baby. You wanna feel?” 

You come up more the moment your fingers fall around the flesh of your breasts, squeezing at your hardened  nipples as you whimper, “C’mon, Ony…”

His voice gets lower, “Goddamn. Aight.”  

Your eyes flick down to his dick that slaps his abdomen the moment he pulls it from his boxers, a sultry smile on your face as you swim to the side of the pool where he’s fully undressed, his body towering above you as he steps in.

The minute he steps in, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down within the water as you lift yourself against him. Your eyes glow, your tongue dragging against his lips as you giggle, “I missed you, Daddy.”

Onyankopon chuckles, lips brushing against yours, “What you miss about me?”

“Being alone with you. Touchin’ on you—“

You’re softly whining, your tongue swirling along his throat, meeting him in a filthy kiss as you come up. And of course, he’s kissing you back even worse—tongue invading your lips, drowning you under his mouth. You allow your body to sway its way towards the edge of the water, turning as you lean yourself against the glass of it, back now facing him. Your little show from the club returns, and under perfect lighting? Your pussy was even prettier. It’s pink as you spread it in his face, glistening to coax him even further.

You whimper, “—The way you fuck me. Come take me, Ony.”

Onyankopon grunts at the sight.

Being drunk brought out a whole different side of you—but your husband was no better. It was the way he ate your pussy when intoxicated—his tongue wagged up against the soft flesh of your folds, the soppy arousal drenching his facial hair each time his full lips sucked your clit up into his mouth. He can’t help it—he’s dipping his tongue in between your opening and hole up top, your fingers tightening along his braids as you whimper in return. But you’re worse—you’re twisting your hips from side to side, riding his face to meet his tongue that sucks your clit from behind. Your ass is all in his face, but he loves it, spanking you with rumbles vibrating against your flesh. 

You always got what you were asking for, but you were needy regardless. You didn’t expect your back to arch any further than it was, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his fingers tightened within your curls, fucking you in a way you’d missed in months. Your ass bounces onto his creamy dick by the pull of his strength—your lips releasing giggles, squealing in between your moans as he takes you from behind. 

“This’ how you missed me, huh? Boucin’ back on my dick like a muhfuckin’ slut? Look at you.” 

You were so drowned in him, you were hardly paying attention to where you were. The marble was cold on the edge of the pool, and with the tiniest bit of sense you had, you whined, “It’ssogood, baby.” 

A low groan leaves his lips, the sound vibrating against your neck. 

“You loud. Finna’ wake up the whole neighborhood.” 

You’re too drunk to listen, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you place your arm behind your back, waiting for him to grab ahold of it. Your moans are long, whiney as you’re somehow still giggling, so elated from how good every stroke feels. His tip is becoming lost in your pussy, your intoxication making you wetter by the second. 

His hand wraps against your arm, your leg going further over the edge, your back in the perfect arch as you mewl. Your eyes roll as he snakes his other hand to the front of you, clutching your jaw to snap your face behind to look into his—That’s when you sling your hips back, fucking yourself on his dick, a hazy smile on your face, screwed with a mixture of pleasure. 

“Ony…” 

You’re squealing to him.

“You still miss a nigga, huh? My shit deep enough for you to remember?”

Onyankopon’s hand tightens along your neck, his fingers gripping the bottom of your chin to bring your face closer to his. You squirm at the change in angle.

One of your hands slides against the side of his head, fingers running across the length of his cornrows. Your lashes are heavy, fluttering as you plead, “It’s deep,” your voice hardly audible over the sounds of your skip clapping together. 

“Feel so full when you’re in me,” you whimper along his mouth.

Your voice was music to his ears. 

The wet flesh sends echoes against the marble, your moans loud in his ear. But everything you were giving him was worth the wait of you being pregnant. He’d taken care of you, babied you. And now, he fucked you like you were his again. 

He could be sweet, sensual—but he could also be a demon. You’re out of the pool now, close to the bed—but you couldn’t make it there on time. Your fingers clutched

along his shoulder as he carries you with no effort, legs held by his arms as he’s lifting you up, tip slapping the sensitivity of your puffy folds, dropping you down in seconds. A squelch comes in return from the curve of his dick reaching inside. 

“Ion’ wanna hear nothin’,” he grunts to you, “Just listen to us.” 

You knock your forehead against his, eyes watering as you tremble whimpers, cradling the nape of his neck in your fingers. Your mind is hazy.

His gaze pierces yours, your lips barely hovering above his as he grunts, “You hear that? That’s the sound of you leakin’ all on my shit. Just droolin’.” 

Your face screws into a pout as you whimper, “Ohmygod, baby. You’re so strong. Oh my goddd. Ughn. F—fuck,” your nails sink into his skin. 

“The fuck did I say, huh?”  

A swat comes to your face, and your eyes flutter, sinking your fingers between your lips as you hush the noises from your mouth. There’s tears in your eyes, thighs trembling as he continues to hold you in the air. Plop, plop, schluck. 

“That’s my good lil’ bitch. Open.” 

He spits in your mouth, gripping your neck tighter as he speaks.

“Tongue.” 

When you do, he spits again. 

“Goodbaby.”  

Your whimper is a high-pitched sound, your teeth nibbling against his bottom—but that’s when he releases you onto your feet—your legs instantly trembling, and he can tell you won’t be able to keep this up. 

“On that bed,” his voice is low. 

“Knees first.”

The moment you crawl onto the bed, you drop your face onto the sheets, back still arched, spreading your reddened pussy as you gently rotate your hips for him. 

“C’mon, Daddy.” 

The arrogance pours from his body as he slaps his tip against your folds, your hips jolting at the feeling. His dick is sliding in, sinking every gifted inch he has for you—It’s even deeper this time, a pinch coursing through your lower stomach the moment the back of your thighs clap with his abdomen, tearing away like Velcro each time. 

You’re mewling, “Damn, baby. I love you so much—why you fuckin’ me like this…”  

You’re babbling, asking nonsensical questions. You knew that.

He finds a grip in your curls, tugging you onto him. His eyes are low as he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ you like this ‘cause you want me to. Look at that pussy. Look at that shit. Pretty lil’ bitch I got.” 

Your eyes are watering heavily. You’re nearly silent for a while, just feeling everything he has to give you. Your body shakes, and you let out the deepest gasp, your exhale a low sob. 

“Keep goin’.” 

It came out a grunt, his voice cracking through the thickness of his Southern drawl. His words are nearly harsh—he craved you—but he meant it, “That’s so muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama. That cream you givin’ me. Yo’ cum is so pretty.” 

And he’s right—you’re cumming, the creamy release of your pussy painting his balls in your affection. Onyankopon’s fingers are tucked along the back of your neck, tattooed frame large above your smaller figure. 

You don’t mean for your mouth to unlatch a loud, “Ughn—Ooshit, baby…”

But it does. 

His body slaps against your round ass, “You been goin’ through it—You coulda’ just came and sat on this dick, Mama. Know you’ been thinkin’ about it. Know you been needin’ it.” 

Your fingers slip in between your lips, sucking lightly to muffle your sounds. You whimper, “Sorry, baby,” as you go back to dropping your hips down to meet his body. You imagine how that looks from behind—how your walls just suck him in, a whiney mess that you are, becoming needier by the second. 

“Uh-huh,” He groans, “Yeah—you been missing your nigga, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

That’s all you can manage to get out—your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, but you try your best to keep them open.

“Missed you so—muc—ugh—much, daddy.”

Seeing you this way was always rewarding. It was like all the senses in your brain went fuzzy, and you’re swirling your hips in a circle, throwing your ass back to meet his body. Fingers still tucked in between your mouth, you’re groaning. 

“See’—there you fuckin’ go. That’s my girl—“

His equal groan is deep and husky—loud, almost guttural.  It makes you shake, “You my good girl, ain’t you? You gon’ start acting right, huh?”

You had no thoughts within your mind.

“I’m your good girl,” you whimper, “See, baby—just wanted you,” your siren eyes peer behind your shoulder to watch your ass bounce. One of your arms reaches back—but Onyankopon’s already there again, snatching your wrist behind your back. 

“That’s all it was? You just wanted me?”

He leans his body down, pushing himself deeper into you. With your arms held, he’s got you locked—helpless.

Your face was red, eyes cloudy. You nod in answer, not trusting your own voice. 

Onyankopon’s hand releases the one held behind your back, his fingers wrapping around your throat from behind instead. His hips are going, heavy body throwing you onto his dick. 

His groan is a low hum, “Daddy’s here now, Mama. That’s all you needed.”

You can’t help the sound that comes from your lips—the whine that’s loud, a shaky breath being sucked into the air. His words, his affirmations to you—your eyes water again, and you give him a continuous nod as you watch your ass go up and down. Your feminine tone cries softly, body quivering as his words echo in your brain. 

He wants to mean every word he says. The way he grips your throat is a sign, the way he’s dropping you down, holding you in place.

Your sobs come out in low gasps,“Ohhh my god—“ 

You’re getting lightheaded.

“O—Oh—Oh, baby…” your brain’s getting foggy—no wonder you see dots.

You moan, “Oh, God. I love you so…much.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, “You mean that?” 

His body makes it hard for you to answer—and his words,  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, baby. You forgivin’ me, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “I forgive you. I’m so sorry,” you whine, “S’much, baby.”

You were being honest. Although, you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. 

You can barely even see, mouth parting as you’re going to speak again, eyes rolling back. It’s silent. But that’s when your voice gets louder—even though it doesn’t seem possible, “Please forgive me, baby. Just needed you, Ony.” 

You give him a shaky nod, trying to focus on your breathing. He grips your throat harder, just the way you like, “I hear you, Mama. You hear me?” 

You gasp,  “Yes—Oohgod, baby.” 

“We ain’t finna’ have these problems no more?” 

“No—I love you—love you so much,” you sob again, body beginning to give. You’re shaking harder, you know you’re crying, but it only makes him go faster, a loud groan coming from his lips.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

“Uh-huhhhh,” you moan, lips quivering, “I forgive you—I always forgive you, Ony.”

Your nails dig at his skin, the sounds you’re making being loud enough to wake the dead. You moan, “I’d never—ooh—doubt you, I was jus—just—“ 

Your brain gives up—you can’t make sentences.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so sorry. You now have to prove your own words, curls hanging above your face as you’re exhausted from now being on top—Onyankopon’s large hands unfortunately have you trapped, your whimpers seeping through the walls as he’s constantly bouncing you down against his lap. This is the sight you’d been looking for—that glare, that growl from his lips, your smaller frame being swallowed by his—even if you were above him. Your thighs burned, your hips ached. 

His hand lifts your body by your throat.

“You know how I feel?”

His hips thrust upward, “I gotta be here for you a lil’ more,” His deep groan makes your legs jolt, “That’s on me, aight? Imma’ make up fo’ that, I promise.” 

His tone goes dark. 

"I love you, Mama," He grunts, "And my kids—I haven’t been a good husband, have I?”

You shake your head, finding your own rhythm within your hips as you rotate above him, “It’s okay, baby—“ you breath hitches, “Such a good h—husband, Ony…” 

His hand around your neck loosens—his thumb rubs against the pulse beneath your jaw, “You promise?” 

His lips suck on your bottom lip, his hips moving against yours now—slowing.

You nod. Onyankopon’s other hand cups beneath your thigh, guiding your body—up and down, your head lolls to the side, curls draping along your hand as your eyes roll, “Baby, I c—can’t…” 

“Yeah?” He grunts, “You can’t—lemme’ hold you then. C’mere.” 

His kiss is soft—he’s tasting you, groaning through a snarl of his lip, “Uh—uh-huh—“ His hips aren’t slowing, “I feel you, mama.”

You’re crying softly as you hold onto him,

“O—Ony…”

“I’m a good husband, ain’t I? Talk to me.” 

He’s begging, his voice deep, “Please don’t be mad at me, baby. I’m already mad at myself because I’m not there for you no’ more.”

This bastard was evil. 

The tears in your eyes aren’t helping your case, your arms wrapping around his neck as you shakily sob out in return, cumming again, holding onto him for dear life as you cry, “Not m—mad at you, Daddy…” 

His tongue slides down to your neck, sucking on the skin, leaving bruises. 

With the sudden touch of cold metal against your thigh, your body shivers, mind entirely fuzzy at this point. 

“That’s yo’ niggas ring,” He hushes you with a light grunt, his hips going—”You feel it, mama? You feel it on me?”

“I feel all of you,” you moan, hands scratching his back, “And I love you so much, baby—feel you so deep—oh god—don’t—stop, baby.”

His tongue swirls on your throat, and it makes your head fuzzy, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I hear you, baby,” you whimper in his own words he spoke earlier, “It don’t matt—oh, matter, anymore, baby. I’m yours, Ony.” 

Your back arches—but he’s still holding your throat. Onyankopon grins at the sight, his head leaned into your neck—grunting and groaning while his large hands help you move. Faster.

“I’ll always be there fo’ my kids—But, you my baby—I’ll never leave you when you need me. And you gon’ need Daddy, huh? Just like now.” 

You press your forehead against his, digging your teeth within your lip as your eyes roll—your mouth parts as you shudderingly moan, “Yeah, Daddy. Okay.”

You’re gasping, eyes watering, hips burning. Your entire body trembles as oceans of pleasure crash in violent waves, the mixture of a groan and scream dropping from your lips, panting as you try to control your sounds. You’re squirting. 

His eyes are glaring, tone deep, “Who you gon’ get on the phone and cry to, huh? Who gon’ treat you the way I do? Fuck yo’ ass the way I do? Who gon’ catch all these tears like me?” 

You’re fully sobbing, “Fuuuck, Ony.”

He grunts at your sounds, “Just like that—“ His hand presses on your waist, “Go ‘head baby. You know I’m right behind you.” 

Your body gives for a third time. Onyankopon’s tongue rushes against yours, the warmth of his cum filling you as his large palm cradles you into his body. You don’t know when your eyes closed, or when you stopped breathing. Your vision is a blur when you’re able to see again. 

“Mama—you aight?” 

You give the smallest nod. Your face is flushed, your mind a bit fuzzy as you whimper, “Got too drunk, baby. My head hurts.”

Onyankopon chuckles, the sound low as he’s leaning against the pillows, your smaller figure sinking into his chest.

“Lemme’ get you a warm towel—“

“Nuh-uh,” you mumble, “I’m fine. You stay here.”  

His hand is slow as his palm smoothes along the small of your back, his lips pressing against your cheek, “I told you I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

A comforting silence fills the room for a couple of minutes, your body nearly passed out against his. That’s when you feel your husband shift a bit beneath you as he murmurs, “Baby…I wanted to give you sum’ before the end of the night.”

You hum softly, eyes still closed. 

“Can I guess what it is?”

His laugh is low, his hand gently stroking the skin of your lower back. 

”You get one guess,” He murmurs, his other hand finding a grip in your hair.

“A Unicorn,” you softly gasp, eyes still closed as you hum, “Yup. It’s my very own unicorn.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Onyankopon chuckles as he says, “You was’ close, but nah— I know you’ been talkin’ bout how you wanna renew our vows.”

Your head peeks up. 

“And?”

“And—I figured, yo’ nigga can’t re-marry yo’ ass without some new rings.”

He leans over the bed, pulling two small boxes from his pants. It’s brighter than the jewelry within his mouth—a heart shaped diamond crystals within your eyes, the ring larger than the rock you already carried on your finger. 

You gasp, “Ony—are you serious?” 

“Dead serious. I got that lil’ venue you wanted in Rome, too. I’m ready for another lifetime with you,” His fingers find your chin, “You ready for another lifetime with me?”

“You did this all for me?” 

“I’d do anythin’ for you, girl. You my best friend,” He grins, “Can you promise me one thing, though?”

A sigh escapes his lips—you leap into his embrace, hugging him tightly, “That I’ll give you like a million more babies?” 

Onyankopon chuckles at your reaction, his large arm hugging around your frame as he answers, “Nah. Promise you ain’t never gon’ doubt me again. A nigga love you forreal’.” 

Your heart is warm. Your hands graze along his facial hair, looking over the face of the man that truly loved you like no one else would. 

You sigh, “I love you too, Ony. You got a hair tie?”

“Yeah,” he raises an eyebrow, “Whatchu’ need one for?” 

He’s shifting across the bed, digging into an open drawer of the bedside dresser.

“Cause I’m finna’ suck the skin off that di—“

“Girl,” he chuckles, “Lawd. You ain’t tired?

“I’ll never be tired of you. Say you feel the same—and that you love me!”

He chuckles, “I do. Quit playin’.”

And you knew that, because he did.

[cute-chamomile]

Every time one of the senior engineers puts too much faith or compliments me I'm like ! Please ! I'm just a creature ! I make mistakes and am sloppy literally all the time !

[lady-protector]

and that's a wrap on my tarot series! the upright majors, at least. there may be others sometime in the future if I am seized by a combination of insanity and hyperfixation once again.

you might notice a few cards are a bit (or in the case of the fool and alternate chariot, a lot) different! I did a few retakes for consistency/style.

below the read more I've included a bunch of notes about symbolism and reasoning behind my choices if that interests you!

(tag for individual card posts)

0. The Fool: Ardbert was really the only choice for this one. He's our stand-in, our shard, our mirror. Feo Ul is included partially because of lore (they are my co-WoL's shard on the First) and also because they also fit the themes of adventure and new beginnings and exploration. Most of the cards I played pretty loose on the posing vs traditional depictions, but this one I wanted to hew a little closer, which is why he's on a cliff with a foot hanging over the edge a bit, with his axe standing in for the bindle. This is my second attempt at the card -- the first was in Il Mheg, but I moved it to Kholusia (Ardbert's home) and dawn to more closely symbolize that it's the beginning of something. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 8/10, posing Feo Ul was annoying.

1. The Magician: This card could have had several subjects, chief among them Alphinaud or a more modern G'raha, but I settled on Alisaie a) because the other two cards I had in mind for her (Chariot and Justice) were already taken, and b) the card's focus on physical magic and depicting the "tools of the trade" reminded me a lot of Angelo's creation! So that's why she's here, and why I set the card in Matoya's Relict, among the tools of magicians who came before (Matoya, Y'shtola). I retook the shot because I was unsatisfied with the blurriness/the way the light covered her face in the first one. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 5/10, simple pose but working with Impact's spell effect complicated things.

2. The High Priestess: Another that I never questioned who would appear on it. Y'shtola's arc is entirely about uncovering forbidden, secret knowledge and wisdom, so she fits beautifully. The blue-white orb and the purple staff depict duality between dark and light, and how Y'shtola walks in two worlds, seeing things that are beyond sight, standing before an altar/holy place to the Night's Blessed. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Premade pose, knew where I wanted to place her -- the only thing was finding a prop for her off hand.

3. The Empress: Hoo boy did Minfi give me some trouble. I knew that I wanted our Antecedent, who provides both authority and care for the Scions, to represent the Empress, but I struggled to find a depiction that wasn't, well, boring. Minfilia is deeply linked with the Solar, and I didn't want to lean too hard into Word of the Mother/Hydaelyn territory, so I settled on a triple goddess-like idea. Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 6/10. Not mechanically difficult, just conceptually.

4. The Emperor: Another one that I knew who I wanted but struggled with the concept. Haurchefant is very much emblematic of the stability, structure, and masculinity provided by the Emperor, but it wasn't until I decided to add his equally-Emperor-coded father that things settled into place. Together, Edmont and Haurchefant evoke the image of father and son as well as king and knight, filling both major male authority roles that the Emperor exemplifies. Attempts: 4. Difficulty: 6/10. Same as the Empress.

5. The Hierophant: this one was one of the hardest to choose a subject for -- the WoL's allies are largely a bunch of revolutionary firebrands, and I disagree HEAVILY with the popular choice of placing Aymeric here. So I landed on Alphinaud -- out of the Scions, he is the one most concerned with tradition and the "right" way to do things, with formal education and structure. He wants to bring Sharlayan into the modern day, not upend the institutions that raised him and that he very much still respects, much like how he still respects his very traditionally Hierophant-coded father. So I placed him in his family home with a sort of smug look since he can be a pretentious little shit sometimes (affectionate). The spell effect is from Kardia, and I paid special attention to having the shapes align perfectly with the lines in the background, to give a sense of stability and order to the shot, especially contrasted with Alisaie's more dynamic and chaotic depiction. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, entirely in alignment.

6. The Lovers: Hrasevelgr and Saint Shiva are a great choice for depicting the Lovers as two people, but no one does the Lovers in one subject better than Ysayle. Invoking the spirit of a woman who died for love in order to bring harmony to her people, but it truly being her own power and her own choice the whole time... it's great. Her pose is her transformation/summoning pose, turned into a gesture of affection, which I was particularly proud of. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10, posing monsters is always a little funky.

7. The Chariot: This one has two options -- my co-WoL, Marz, and Tataru/Cid/Nero for the NPC variant. All 4 characters share a singular drive and refusal to let anything stop them once they've set their mind to something, and the 3 NPCs have the added benefit of being associated with a literal "chariot" in the form of airship design. Marz's place on Shadowkeeper has some lore associations (Cylva is her shard on the 13th) as well as being a void mirror to Kaede's sin eater shot. For both I wanted to have dynamic poses to evoke the activity of the card. Attempts: 1 (Marz), 2 (NPCs). Difficulty: 3/10 for both, no major hurdles once the lovely @/karoiseka pointed me at an airship in NG+.

8. Justice: The heart of the Justice card is its emphasis on truth, and no character in FFXIV is more committed to truth even in the face of great suffering than Aymeric de Borel. Because of this, the shot is taken at the top of the Vault, where he confronted his father over his concealment of the truth of the Dragonsong War. The card is usually depicted with a woman holding a sword and balanced scales -- Aymeric is holding his sword in a pose used in statues in the Pillars, and the symmetry of the shot/light and shadow split down the middle is meant to give the feeling of balance. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. I knew my concept, location, and shader before I even went in, and it came out exactly like I wanted.

9. The Hermit: Originally I had Urianger for this card, who still fits well, but when I moved him to Wheel of Fortune, there was a clear second choice: The Exarch. He even resembles the Hermit, with his cloak and staff, holding himself in isolation and possessing secret knowledge with which he guides the party. G'raha has grown out of this role as of Endwalker, but the Exarch fits it to a tee. I wanted to show his longing to return through his body language and reaching out for the portal that shows him the world he is set apart from. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 4/10. Nothing major but did have to do two entirely separate cards lmao.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The one I struggled with the most, conceptually. At first I had a more abstract choice, with the 3 starting city state leaders and Tataru, in a sort of "fate leads to the Scions" idea. But then I remembered that Urianger is a fortune teller who uses a wheel-like weapon with a literal wheel of cards, and, well. Yeah. The man is intimately associated with fate and choice, and the choice to place him on the moon is intentional, to separate him from his more secretive depictions in HW/ShB. He is the one who prepares our second option (flight) while giving us the choice to make our first (fight). Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 7/10. He's up on a high ledge that's not normally accessible and that's always a pain in the ass.

11. Strength: The one that started it all. The original shot of Kaede contained some layer elements I wasn't happy with so I ended up retaking it to better cohere with the others. Strength is about confidence and inner strength "leashing" power, symbolized by the woman and the tamed lion, and there's exactly one good lion model in XIV -- Forgiven Cruelty. It also has the fun side meaning of Kaede conquering and wielding the light that almost killed her. For Moenbryda's, I went with something simple -- her axe to symbolize her strength, but with her archon mark and the Sharlayan Thaliak statue prominently featured, emphasizing her intelligence. Attempts: 2 (Kaede), 1 (Moenbryda). Difficulty: 6/10. Kaede's was straightforward enough (though I had to wait an annoyingly long time for the sky to shift colors correctly), but Moenbryda's involved me floating her up on a building so i could get Thaliak in the shot correctly.

12. The Hanged Man: Holy moly this one was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I knew from the minute I started this what I wanted to do with it -- Lahabrea holding Thancred's ankle as he reaches for Minfilia. The Hanged Man is one that I felt it was especially important to mimic the iconic pose on the card, and this was how I decided to do it, but it took me over an hour and a half to accomplish. Anyway, the Zodiark idol stands in for the Tree of Life, which I really liked. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 10/10. Absolutely infuriating to have to pose 3 actors in three dimensional space like that.

13. Death: I only ever considered Estinien for this card. It stands for transformation and change, for shedding the old to make way for the new, and I chose to depict that by having his old corrupted drachen mail posed behind him like a shadow or an abandoned husk. He has left the hate and the rage behind, but the helmet is meant to symbolize that he always remembers it, and carries it with him so that he can do better. His lance is also vaguely reminiscent of the traditional Death scythe. That spot in Coerthas is where he challenges you in the early DRG quests while controlled by Nidhogg, as well as being just visually striking. Attempts: 1, but it took a while. Difficulty: 9/10. The ground is very much not flat, the helmet is on a minion, and I had to change angles and locations a few times.

14. Temperance: I briefly considered Hythlodaeus here, but Krile fits very well. Calm, competent, but unsure of her own worth. I chose Eureka Hydatos both for its importance to Krile as well as its easily accessible water -- instead of pouring from a cup, Krile is looking at her reflection. This one came together so quickly and easily. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. In and out of Eureka in less than 20 minutes.

15. The Tower: Originally, before I reshuffled, G'raha was going to be the Tower simply because I didn't know where to put him, and I couldn't think of an ally who is ultimately a destructive force, but it always bothered me because he truly didn't fit. Meteion, though -- despite her innocence and unwillingness, is THE destructive force within Endwalker's story. This card had the highest hurdles -- I had to get 7 friends to help me queue for Endsinger and then leave, and I almost couldn't get my tools to load Meteion in properly. After that it was smooth sailing, however. I used the whole lockout timer, but this was only the 4th shot I took, and it's one of my personal favorites. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, purely for queuing.

16. The Devil: Addiction, obsession, and control -- Zenos was the only answer for this card. I included Zero as well, despite intending this to be a primarily 6.0 and earlier set, to represent the humans bound in chains to the Devil, using the way she's pinned between Zenos and the scythe to symbolize that she's trapped. Afterward I realized this exact shot and character choice would have also worked quite well for the Tower, as well, but I ultimately prefer the Devil for him. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10. Came together surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I had to make Zero's hat touch pose myself.

17. The Star: Symbolizing hope and new life, I can think of no one better suited than Ryne and the Empty. Ryne herself was given her own new life when Minfilia passed on her power, and the ability to make her own destiny -- and she used that power to revitalize a barren wasteland. My first version of this shot had a photoshopped in central star, but I decided to revisit the concept with an in game effect for the star instead. Helios provided what I needed, with the fun extra benefit of some additional rainbows (happy pride!). Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 3/10. Nothing crazy beyond trying to find a good angle to get the star in the shot, as well as Eden and the rainbow crystal. Second attempt I messed up the framing and had to redo it again.

18. The Moon: The card of dreams, fear, anxiety, and secrets, Gaia is perfect here (and a lovely companion to Ryne as the Star), though I did briefly consider Urianger as well. I wanted to have Gaia on the sand, with the moon hanging between the crystal walls of the Empty above her, but the angles would NOT cooperate to allow me to get the moon in the shot. So, levitation was the only answer. Fortunately it suits Gaia well, especially the distance that it evokes. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 6/10. I hate midair posing.

19. The Sun: Another card that sprang fully formed into my mind. Joy and fulfillment is symbolized by Lyse enjoying the morning light in a free Ala Mhigo, thinking of Papalymo. It also allowed me to get both of these very different characters into a single card, as they are very much a package deal, though I did consider Papalymo for the Hierophant as well. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Came together very quickly.

20. Judgement: The last two cards of the Major Arcana are very high concept, with very lofty ideals, so they felt hard to pin down. I thought of doing both my WoLs here, or maybe Elidibus with his three forms for light, dark, and balance. But ultimately I ended up on Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, as the sort of "final judgement" before the battle with the endsinger, the last step before everything ends. Their literal rebirth, the resolution of Emet-Selch's conflict with the WoL, the not-redemption but understanding reached, our efforts judged worthy -- it all just seemed to fit. The card design is simple but I hope the colors and emotion of the scene carry the weight of the arcana. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. No major roadblocks.

21. The World: At last we arrive at the end, not only the last posted but the last taken as well. I always knew I wanted Venat/Hydaelyn for this card, as she is the literal heart of our world, as well as an Azem who has reached the end of her journey, as Ardbert was one who was at the beginning of his all the way back at the Fool. But when I didn't use Elidibus anywhere else, I decided to add him here as well, since he also served as the heart of the star for a time. Light and dark united together, watching over Etheirys. The one who destroyed our world in order to save it, and the one who saved our world only to try to destroy it. Perfect symmetry, a completion of the circle. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 9/10. I had to stitch together 3 separate screenshots in photoshop, with the fore and backgrounds cut apart so I could control the opacities separately. Probably the card that took me the longest, but it was worth it.

[supremefloof]

fandom reveal? seven of them anyways

sayeon lee from hand jumper + X from to be hero x - if i had a nickel for every one of my favorite characters that wears a suit, glasses, a tie clip based on a roman numeral and snaps their fingers to use their OP power I'd have 2 nickels... really, they look like they were designed in the same room lmfao. complimentary colors, black vs white, everything! if they met it would probably be disastrous. love them! also a nice coincidence that X has the "X" clip and rank 10 is the highest Aberrant Corps rank in HJ.

watcher grian from the life series - these are very entertaining minecraft youtube videos. it's crazy how it's unscripted. grian watcher lore is the most intriguing thing for the guy who alludes to "lore" the least these days!

dr. benjamin kondraki from SCP - idk that much about scp but the concept of a photographer with a symbiotic(?) horde of magic butterflies is really cool.

madoka kaname and homura akemi from puella magi madoka magica - ive only watched a handful of anime but i dont think anything will top this... walpurgisnacht movie pls come out this year no delays pleaseeee

firestar from warrior cats - guilty bc he is the equivalent of a kettle cooked sea salt flavor potato chip. hilariously, this means he has one of the most consistent characterizations of any warrior cats character. if I saw this cat though id take him home so fast allergies be darned. also (spoilers for the broken code arc): was him randomly possessing rootspring and murdering a guy nostalgia bait? yes. was it funny as fuck? also yes. favorite scene in that arc. literally just firestar aura farming. i havent read warriors since then though, warrior cats is... definitely something. for anyone wanting to get into warriors just read the graphic novel adaptation, it's genuinely the best, most well-written piece of media warriors has ever made despite being based on the original books and it's not close.

N (and Reshiram) from pokémon - natural harmonia gropius!! the guy!!

tagging this post will be a nightmare but ill give it my best shot o7

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta flex-status="undead monster gains"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="SATURDAY_MUSCLE_TRUTH_011::SKELETOR_REDEMPTION_FILE" EFFECT: childhood rewritten, villainous inspiration spike, trap respect enforcement </script>

🛐 HE-MAN TRIED TO TRICK US: SKELETOR WAS SWOLE AS F☰☰K TOO

---

Let’s talk about the biggest muscle-based misinformation campaign of your childhood—right up there with Santa Claus and “milk builds strong bones.”

They told us He-Man was the only alpha.

Sword. Glow-up. Tan. Blond Jesus in a fur Speedo.

But meanwhile, Skeletor was out here yoked beyond belief, cackling through war crimes while casually bench-pressing trauma in a hood held up by pure trap density.

💀 SKELETOR’S SWOLE ANATOMY: FACTS THEY HID FROM YOU

📏 Shoulders for days That man could shoulder-press Castle Grayskull without flinching.

💪 Biceps of Doom His staff had a full-on ram skull on it. That’s not plastic. That’s plate-loaded evil.

🧼 Abs for Eternity You could do your laundry on that torso. Not a single soft edge. Just pure bone-deep hypertrophy.

🟣 THE DOUBLE STANDARD: HE-MAN vs. THE GRIND

He-Man had a magic sword that gave him gains on command. Transformation cheat code activated.

Skeletor? No shortcuts. No enchantments. Just rage-fueled compound lifts and villainous macros.

He stayed cut year-round. No off-season. No excuses. Just delts, drama, and diabolical volume training.

🧠 THE REAL GYM INSPIRATION: SKELETOR

🦴 No skin? No problem. You try deadlifting with exposed jawbone and no rotator cuffs.

🛑 No fans. No pity. No quit. He didn’t need a support circle. He had haters, and that was enough.

🎯 Consistency > Catchphrase He lost every episode but never once skipped leg day.

He-Man had magic. Skeletor had mind-muscle connection and pain tolerance from hell.

📢 THE REAL LESSON HE-MAN HID FROM YOU

"You don’t need a magic sword to be powerful. You just need to lift. Daily. Even while plotting universal domination."

Skeletor was proof:

You don’t have to win to be legendary

You don’t need applause to be aesthetic

You don’t need fans to build delts that make minions cower

And sometimes? Being the bad guy just means you train alone harder.

---

👊 STOP SLEEPING ON SKELETOR

---

They painted him as a joke. A clown. A screeching skeleton in purple briefs.

But real ones know:

That wasn’t a villain. That was a walking masterclass in perseverance, hypertrophy, and trap worship.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t shrink. He kept showing up—jacked, angry, fabulous.

That’s not evil. That’s discipline in its rawest, baddest form.

---

🔁 Reblog if you respect the traps that ate Skeletor’s hood 🦴 Save this for the next gym bro who forgets the power of villain arc aesthetics 📸 Share it with someone who thought He-Man was the only one with “The Power” 💀 Bookmark if your childhood just got corrected by hypertrophy and humor 🧠 Follow for more childhood myth destruction and psychosexual cartoon analysis

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [AUTO-FLEX IN: 00:07:77] -->,

[honey-milk-depresso]

Batfam x reader going to an escape room

Gesus I went insane from this, I was too lazy to do Babs and Bruce I’m sorry- 😭😭

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Batfam x S/o VS Escape Rooms

Dick Grayson

God forbid you bring him to a horror-themed escape room. He can fight Joker, Slade, almost get killed like three days a week but he’s scared of them nasty ass sound effects when you unlock a clue and begin jumping on you while screaming until he stops and goes “oh hey, a clue-”

Sometimes keep pointing at the wrong kinds of clues. Like the ones that have the sticker label that says “NOT PART OF ROOM” and can still ask, “is this a clue???”

If you’re scared, both of you can cling together although both of you would push each other to try to punch in the coordinates because you fear the whacky effects this escape room offers.

He will, however, do everything you tell him when trying to solve puzzles. Dick will sacrifice all his loud sound fear and do it for you. Otherwise if you’re brave enough (magically) he’ll just look from behind and clap with amazement.

Whether you two escape or not… usually not. You guys get stuck there most of the time although he wouldn’t be so jumpy and can focus if you two pick a non-horror-themed escape room. You two still had fun though and that’s all that matters. <3

Jason Todd

I felt like he might’ve destroyed the props inside the room out of frustration. Horror themed or not, this man can get frustrated over puzzles he’s failing at. Like one time this man was punching in possible combinations as stated in the piece of paper you two found (miraculously) that had a riddle to the password of the lock the two of you were trying to open and ends up breaking the lock with his bare hands out of frustration that the host had to rush in after catching all that on camera.

He keeps complaining, “that shit is more nonsensical than Riddler’s riddles, goddamnit!” He just wants to win and get out of here with you. That’s the whole POINT.

The one who keeps making sarcastic jokes about all the clues like “this guy puts ‘DEATH’ as the password, how original”, “wow. Who could’ve guessed the VAMPIRE out of the three options where the two others are HUMANS is the killer. Incredible.” You’ll never here the end of it-

If you’re scared, he’ll hold you closer to him (while he slowly loses his shit to colour coordinated buttons) and secretly likes how you cling to him if you are scared. If not, he’s appreciative you try to calm him down and help him stay focus.

You two would sometimes get out, sometimes not successfully, but all the time you’d usually get a bill to pay for the damaged props. Couple goals. <3

Tim Drake

He is full on lock mode INTO this escape room game. By this point, you two are just speed-running through this to get out and win.

Tim is a detective with an IQ of 142 after all, so most of the escape rooms are just easy for him that you complain isn’t fun anymore. Thus, you two go for the really hard ones and I mean those REALLY hard ones like “The Caretaker” kinda with a 1.5% success rate THEN would things get interesting.

Tim likes a challenge, and he gets even more determined to be successful in escaping. He’s not scared of the props, even in horror-themed because he’s super driven to win. If you get scared of horror-themed, and even more terrifying is that it has such a low success rate he’s still by your side trying to reassure you while trying to solve the clues to get the both of you to the next section. Most of the time, you two get out. He gets super salty if he was about to key in the code to get out but just that split second he ran out of time and the both you didn’t get out. Kiss his cheek so he’ll completely forget being salty and more red-faced. <3

Damian Wayne

Like Jason, might’ve break a few props in the process of being frustrated. He’s laser focused in winning and escaping, it’s just that he’s frustration bubbles up easily in an escape room when he come across a particularly challenging roadblock he might push away his rationality and break the lock with his bare hands like Jason (dude how??).

He’s not scared of escape rooms, and maybe for the cheaper ones he’ll think are lame: commenting on how fake the blood is or how plastic-y the skull is with his bad painting. If you’re scared though, he’s silently celebrating the fact he gets to hold you close all while having a straight face.

Inside, his brain is yelling “YESSSSSSS- THANK YOU LORD FOR LETTING ME HOLD THEM IN MY ARMS AND-”

Yeah- pretty much just sums up the most chaotic experience for you or at least, whatever goes on his head.

Usually would get out with him, although sometimes you two would find a bill to pay for broken props but it’s not as bad as Jason’s count so don’t worry. <3

Duke Thomas

He’s pretty good at escaping actually. Well, he’s not as fast as Tim, but if given an hour on an average escape room, Duke can get out with you in maybe 50 minutes flat.

Of course, he’s not gonna try escaping an escape room with a success rate of 1.5% like Tim is, he knows his limits.

Has fun in horror and non-horror themed escape rooms alike. He’s mildly scared of the horror ones, maybe just be slightly jumpy but he won’t scream hysterically or anything. He’ll probably laugh it off and focus on figuring out the clues.

Maybe throw in a joke or two like, “wow, this guy just gives us the password through people’s surnames that are all colour names. If only it was that easy in stakeout mission-”

If you’re scared, he’s there for you and reminds you it’s fake. You’re not gonna die here (because this isn’t a twisted kind of escape room set up by Joker or anything like that, it’s an entertainment one so it’s okay-) and is pretty chill about the whole thing.

Pretty high success rate to escape for most escape rooms and definitely a lot of fun with him even if you guys fail! <3

Cassandra Cain

Also pretty high success rate of getting out of your average escape room, but she also might be another one to break the props but usually by accident.

She might be a little frustrated rattling with the locker and wondering what other possible the lock combination could work when she accidentally uses her strength and kinda… breaks the lock by accident. The two of you would look at each other as Cass slowly just… puts the lock away and gets to the next clue while the two of you act like nothing happened.

Very calm and collected and she’s just unfazed with the horror-themed escape rooms. She’s seen far worse and in fact, she thinks the horror-themed ones are fun that she’s seen smiling more while solving each clue.

If you’re scared of the props, she tried to reassure you they’re face by showing the blood is fake and the skulls are fake (and then accidentally breaks them somehow or drops the fake blood on the floor-) as she tried to reassure you.

Overall, 10/10 good time with Cass. <3

Stephanie Brown

Okay so… she’s focused, yes, but she takes a really long time to think. Just a tad bit. Might be like Dick: points to the prop that has a “NOT PART OF ESCAPE ROOM” label and goes “is this a clue???”

She’s trying, she really is. Has a pretty normal chance of escaping with you but usually with only 5 minutes left or less. I think the most insane one was when you and her finally broke out on the dot when one hour was over and it was time’s up. The host was just doing that white guy blinking meme thing and was like- “huh- okay-”

She’s kinda jumpy in horror-themed escape rooms, but she’s not like Dick to scream her lungs out. Maybe just let out a yelp or “HOLY SHI—” out loud and be like “goddamnit” when she quickly recovers.

If you’re scared, it’s okay she’s got you! Even if she’s a bit startled in the beginning, she’ll be your (mostly) knight in shining armour!

She jokes a lot about the props around like: “Lmao, this goofy horse painting’s like Jason”, “Why the skull look so poorly painted on the eyes”, “What is with that silly sounding witch laugh, lmao” to lighten up the mood.

Funny times with Steph in there so 10/10. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[new-revenant]

Danny makes some little animal stick figure desktop pets, with Tucker's help, mainly to help with homework, act as autocorrect, and serve as something cute. He notices after a few weeks that they can interact with different things in different ways (think of the stick figures from animation vs animator) and is impressed. He decides to bring the six with him in his phone on a class field trip to Gotham and excitedly shows Sam and Tucker the evolved code. While there and walking around the sticks were just messing around in Danny's phone when they manage to accidentally air drop themselves into Tim Drake's laptop. Tim somehow doesn't notice until he's back at the cave and connects his computer to the bat computer and accidentally uploads the desktop pets to it, Danny at this point also realized his desktop pets were gone. At this point Danny and Tim are both low-key freaking out for different yet similar reasons.

omg they accidentally created a computer virus! And it’s probably a ghostly one too all things considered. Maybe it’s just some blob ghosts that infected the code, or Technus. Team Phantom might be blaming Technius at first haha.

And Tim is going to suffer, this I swear. Why are these weird, stick figure things messing the Batcomputer? He tries to fix everything and delete the little animals before anyone else shows up…but an 1 hour later, when Batman calls everybody to the Batcave, they find Tim is now a sobbing mess, whining about how the Batcomputer got hacked by stupid stick figures. Who hear that of course and decide to blast music right into his ears. The rest of the Batman try-and fail-to fix it. It definitely isn’t a normal virus, and could be something magical, but they aren’t too sure. Meanwhile, Team Phantom has been trying to figure out where Tim lives. Now Danny, as Phantom, is floating around Wayne Manor. He really hopes they don’t sue him after this.

[felassan]

blue lyrium veins in the Deep Roads, or an abandoned mine.

in the very next scene, Harding uses her new magical powers to protect Rook and herself from red lyrium darkspawn (blue vs red/blue and red coding cropping up a lot in this trailer..). when she uses her power, her face glows blue-white with a veiny pattern that reminds me of blue lyrium veins, and petrifying something to stone is well.. Stoney. :D (which 👁️ bc it doesnt feel like a wild out-there guess that her powers have something to do with Titan stuff [see Valta]). the color of her magic powers here is blue-white. this reminds me of this post where I was looking at her beautiful tarot-style art piece and wondering if the white 'feathers' and strands of white light amalgamating around the arrow she's about to fire there is suggestive or symbolic of her new magical powers.

I also wanna say here that the acting for Harding's dialogue line at this moment, "What is happening to me?", was so scared, emotive and well-done that my heart-broke for real. she sounded so afraid :<

later in the trailer we literally see her using her new powers to like, Earthbend! this shot reminded me a lot of Toph. :)

she's so pretty omg 😭

[vxn3lla]

Masterlist🐚🌊

Law of Assumption

Reality is Yours

Ignore the 3d

Some things aren't necessary

EIYPO

Self Concept and Living in the End

Challenge Step One

Challenge Step Two

Challenge Step Three

Challenge Step Four

Challenge Step Five

Do it Yourself

Manifesting through "Lack"

Imagination

Your one affirmation

Get it Right

On doubts, "lying to yourself", and electronics

Why being "delulu" isn't the "solulu"

Law of Assumption ALWAYS works

Limiting Beliefs Rant

Giving things outside of you power-my take on the lions gate portal

Letting go vs Focusing

There is no right or wrong way to manifest

Taking action and why it can be a good thing (after all the other steps)

Techniques

0.0035%

Notion Template for manifesting

The only “time” is now

New Years Eve Challenge

Fun manifestation idea

you are the creator

Stop settling

important

“purging” and persisting (if you truly had a good self concept the idea of purging shouldn’t bother you whether it’s real or not

Stop giving the 3d power

your desires are meant for you

misconceptions

Reminder

Void State

Some things on necessary (void state reblog)

I am vs void state

Putting the void state on a pedestal

Your are the void state

Cramps

Success Stories

adambja tapes

nyc trip

Your one affirmation successes

more success stories

gotta keep persisting

glitch pt 1

glitch pt 2

shifted to better cr for a bit

shifting symptoms and subliminal dream results

Affirmations and Vaunts and Subs

Self concept/dream life affs

Void state vaunt

Giant subliminal

Subliminal requests

nothing left to manifest ryuu

ryuu bundle

YouTube

subliminal google drive

magically delicious

youtubefix

yeet

magicallydelicious2

playlist

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕

βιβλιοθήκη

·.★·.·´¯`·.·★ 🅷🅴🆁 ★·.·´¯`·.·★.·

"About Me" (just posts related to me/"daily" blog)

Celebrity "Look-Alike" not really face reveal but kinda

personal blog

Code word

mom manifesting?

one week no methods

me being indecisive

Thunderbolts review (on my very inactive letterboxd)

DR intros

Gossip Girl dr

Studio Ghibli dr

Daughter of Nosferatu dr

Nonduality

You are consciousness/everything and consciousness/everything is you

Shifting

Don’t overestimate it

[therealhepcat]

Xehanort vs. The Legal System

Content Warning: The following discussion includes child abuse of a fictional character, manipulation, and harm.

Additional Warning: Long Post

Offender: Xehanort, Keyblade Master

Victim: Ventus, Keyblade Apprentice (11–12 years old at time of offenses)

Timeframe: From when Xehanort finds Ventus in the Badlands to just before he abandons him on Destiny Islands

Jurisdiction: High Court of Kingdom Hearts Tumblr

Presiding Judge: Me

Charge 1: Child Endangerment

Description: Willfully exposed Ventus, a minor, to extreme psychological stress, magical threats, and combat scenarios far beyond his capacity—under the guise of “training.”

Real-World Equivalent: Child endangerment, reckless supervision, and exposing a minor to harm.

Sentence: 10 years

Charge 2: Child Abuse (Physical, Emotional, Psychological)

Description: Systematic manipulation and abuse of power. Xehanort gaslit, emotionally broke down, and physically harmed Ventus. He repeatedly lied, withheld the truth, and psychologically conditioned Ventus for his own goals.

Real-World Equivalent: Aggravated child abuse, emotional cruelty, and abuse of a dependent minor.

Sentence: 20 years

Charge 3: Aggravated Assault

Description: Inflicted physical harm during the heart-splitting process and other moments of magical violence. Vanitas’ creation was achieved through brutal force and dark energy against Ventus' body and heart.

Real-World Equivalent: Battery with a deadly weapon and aggravated assault against a minor.

Sentence: 20 years

Charge 4: Torture

Description: Caused immense suffering by forcibly extracting part of Ventus’ heart. The procedure led to loss of consciousness, extreme pain, and psychological fragmentation.

Real-World Equivalent: Torture, violation of human rights, and psychological warfare.

Sentence: 25 years

Charge 5: Human Experimentation (Unethical & Non-Consensual)

Description: Ventus was used as a living test subject to attempt artificial manipulation of light and darkness to create the χ-blade. Ventus was unaware of his role in a metaphysical experiment that permanently altered his being.

Real-World Equivalent: Violation of the Nuremberg Code, Geneva Conventions, illegal medical/human experimentation, and war crime.

Sentence: 30 years

Charge 6: False Imprisonment / Coercive Isolation

Description: Held Ventus in isolation at the Badlands, keeping him under control through manipulation and magical influence. Ventus’ ability to leave or understand his situation was unclear.

Real-World Equivalent: False imprisonment, unlawful detainment, and coercive control.

Sentence: 10 years

Charge 7: Reckless Endangerment / Medical Negligence

Description: After rendering Ventus comatose, Xehanort discarded his body on Destiny Islands without seeking treatment or help, abandoning him in a vulnerable state.

Real-World Equivalent: Negligent abandonment, reckless endangerment, and medical negligence.

Sentence: 5 years

Charge 8: Attempted Murder / Reckless Harm

Description: During the heart-splitting ritual, Xehanort subjected Ventus to an act of extreme metaphysical violence—tearing darkness from his heart in a way that nearly destroyed him. While Xehanort did not explicitly intend to kill Ventus, his actions showed willful disregard for the child's life, resulting in near-fatal trauma and long-term memory loss.

Real-World Equivalent: Reckless assault causing severe bodily harm / attempted manslaughter of a minor.

Sentence: 20 years

Charge 9: Creation of a Sentient Weapon (Vanitas)

Description: Used Ventus’ heart to generate a living being of pure darkness, solely intended for destructive purposes. Vanitas’s existence was engineered without regard for Ventus’ autonomy.

Real-World Equivalent: Unlawful creation of a biological weapon, genetic/spiritual violation, and war crime.

Sentence: 30 years or life

Charge 10: Violation of Magical Consent Laws (Fantasy Law)

Description: Manipulated Ventus’ soul, heart, and being without informed consent, altering his fundamental identity through arcane means.

Real-World Equivalent: Unauthorized metaphysical experimentation and violation of spiritual/mental integrity laws.

Sentence: 10 years

Charge 11: Unlawful Creation of Life (Fantasy Law)

Description: Created Vanitas using part of another person’s soul without divine or governing body sanction, violating magical ethics and disrupting balance.

Real-World Equivalent: Unauthorized soul manipulation and magical equivalent of cloning or illegal AI/human synthesis.

Sentence: 25 years

Charge 12: Trauma-Induced Permanent Disability

Description: Ventus fell into a coma for years following the damage inflicted by Xehanort’s actions. His heart was irreparably fractured, and only external intervention (Sora) allowed partial recovery.

Real-World Equivalent: Causing long-term disability or coma due to assault/negligence.

Sentence: 15 years

Charge 13: Attempted Possession of a Minor’s Body

Description: Before deciding to use Ventus to forge the χ-blade, Xehanort planned to override his consciousness and inhabit his body—destroying his individuality to extend his own life.

Real-World Equivalent: Identity theft, possession of a minor, and metaphysical murder of the soul.

Sentence: 50 years

TL; DR - Major Charges (13 Total):

Child Endangerment – Put Ventus in dangerous training

Child Abuse – Physical, emotional, and psychological harm

Aggravated Assault – Harmed Ventus with magic

Torture – Caused intense pain during heart splitting

Human Experimentation – Used Ventus as a test subject

False Imprisonment – Isolated him in the Badlands

Negligent Abandonment – Left him comatose on Destiny Islands

Attempted Manslaughter – Nearly killed him in the Vanitas creation

Weaponizing a Sentient Being – Created Vanitas from his heart

Magical Consent Violation – Used his heart without permission

Unlawful Creation of Life – Created Vanitas via soul division

Causing Permanent Disability – Left Ventus comatose

Attempted Possession – Planned to steal his body as a vessel

FINAL SENTENCING

Total Sentence: 270 years to life

Parole: Not eligible

[headlessdino]

fanon vs canon batfam

the way that the batfam fandom can change the characters so much makes me go INSANE because like... did we read the same comics orrrrrr................ I GET THAT NOT EVERYONE LIKES READING but they can watch shows or just interact content rather than making content in which the characters are heavily mischaracterized. that brings me to what this post is actually about.

fanon dick: best brother ever, has a good ass, nice to everyone, happy-go-lucky, peacemaker, happy robin, his ass, sensitive, hugs a lot, kind of dumb, but he has an ass so it's okay, did i mention his ass?

canon dick: more serious than in fanon, can be manipulative, driven, angry as robin, pretty sociable, can be an asshole, very trusted and respected hero, empathetic, puts others before himself

fanon jason: swears excessively, angry robin, hyper masculine, kills a lot, reckless, loner, undying hatred toward bruce, almost always aggressive, calls tim replacement and holds an insane grudge against him

canon jason: "robin gives me magic c: ", willing to kill when the situation calls for it, strong moral code, not angry at the fact that bruce "let" him die, not super close to the batfam tbh

fanon tim: coffee addict, outcast, sad all the time, gets no bitches, has no social skills, complete and utter nerd, has no spine and lets himself get bullied, kind of irrelevant, built like a twig, shy uwu boi bean (sorry) (i shed a few tears typing that out), only smart person in the batfam ever, "pure", kind of kid to get bullied and have his lunch money stolen from him, has abusive parents and has never felt an ounce of love from anyone ever

canon tim: more of an energy drink guy, pretty chill, has dated around and doesn't really struggle socially, skateboards, a VIGILANTE who has a decent amount of muscle (woah who would've guessed), kind of insane but also pretty normal compared to what they say he's like in fanon

i could keep going and talk about damian being characterized as violent but also like he's a baby or bruce being treated like a perfect parent OR an abusive one but i'm tired so i'm gonna leave it at that

[artbyblastweave]

Regarding the semantic limitations of capeshit, is there a decent term for "superpowers exist but capes and costumes just isn't a thing for whatever reason" be it due to it never occurring in the first place or due to the status quo settling without capes and costumes and the whole hero vs villain duking it out thing? Like especially the it never occurring in the first place I find quite interesting, and is something I see often enough in media in which magic and spells are innate and the consequences of that power being unrestricted and unpredictable, but I don't think that is termed either afaik

I think that the TVtropes parlance for this is "Not Wearing Tights-" works with that label are often in conversation with or direct adaptations of traditional cape-and-costume superhero stories but with the aesthetic sanded down out of a combination of budget pragmatism and excessive self-awareness.

Unfortunately it's kind of a self-justifying trope in a lot of ways because the logistics of creating an effective traditional costume are genuinely batshit crazy on a lot of levels. Wild Cards is a setting where the idiom exists but fell off as a mass practice because there were very few would-be heroes with powersets and resources that made a typical superheroic presentation practical. Mutant City Blues is a TTRPG setting where, in the face of widespread mutation, would-be "traditional" heroes exist but are largely limited to the convention circuit for liability and practicality reasons and are viewed as unserious weirdos by those who tend to their business in plainclothes. Heroes is a universe where there are several characters who probably would costume up if the opportunity presented itself but shit's going down too fast and too constantly for that to ever become workable. Ex-Heroes is a setting where many of the powered vigilante heroes used to have costumes but they were almost universally really shitty hack-jobs produced on shoestring budgets, propped up aesthetically by the users put-up-or-shut-up ability to flip cars and fly, and, in the face of zombie apocalypse that defines the setting, eventually became just too much of a pain in the ass to repair and replace.

Mass adoption of costumes and code names is, unfortunately, something a setting actually has to do a lot of legwork to justify, and this has been true since at least Silver-age marvel, where, if you go back with a fine toothed comb, a surprising number of the characters are visibly coming to their heroism from a showbusiness perspective- Spider-Man the would-be wrestler, Daredevil the son of a prize fighter, Hawkeye the circus performer, Iron Man the unofficial corporate mascot, Wasp the fashion designer, Cap the USO propaganda object, this crops up a lot. Likewise, works like Worm and Abberant and The Boys burn a lot of narrative capital on the logistics of acquiring a costume that doesn't suck shit, and the proximity to power that a really high quality costume implies.