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stardustizuku · 7 months

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Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

#Kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebaciel #essay #loli speaks

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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

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The Crew Heads with Reader: Bro Code

G/N. Silly. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo).

"What is that?"

You point at the red mark, the ring of teeth on his tattooed arm and Jake mutters something under his breath.

"What?"

"...Bite." He forces out.

"Courtesy of?" Your eyes flicker over to Eli, who has found a very interesting spot on the floor.

Really, it might be the most interesting thing he has ever seen. He wouldn't be able to remove his eyes from it for love nor money. Not even if Yenna shrieked, screamed, screeched in front of him

"No-one." Jake says, wordlessly agreeing with Eli that the ground is fascinating and staring resolutely at it too.

Because if there is one thing the Crew Heads agree on, it's bro code.

Fighting one another, beating each other up is one thing-

Sure, they might kill each other. Sure, some of them hate each other. It's nothing personal though. Just something they do.

...What real men do. Casual grievous bodily harm, accidental oopsy murder. You know how it goes.

But where you're concerned - snitches get stitches. And stitches from you, doesn’t bear thinking about.

Where you're concerned, the story could be they were all holding hands, skipping along the road, then simultaneously ate shit together. Falling over one by one like dominos.

It would be the utmost worst violation of bro code to tell on each other. Even if you're the one now cleaning up the aftermath.

Under silent oath, a pact formed with just one quick catch of the eye, they promised they would not tell. If you found out, if they confirmed - you would give them hell. A fate worse than death.

"And Johan, let me guess. You fell and gave yourself a blackeye." You arch an eyebrow in his direction.

Johan nods, lips pulled down in a pout and eyes (one fine, one bruised and swollen) narrowed at another spot at the floor. The appeal of the scuffed floorboards is contagious, three of the four Crew Heads gaze now firmly fixed on it.

"No brass knuckles involved?" You ask, and get a short shake of the head in response.

"Just like Samuel's back injury isn't from being thrown on the ground?"

Samuel's eyes dart over once to Jake, then he rearranges his face into a haughty, cold expression. As if that was a ridiculous suggestion and not the truth.

They were absolutely not fighting. They would absolutely not get caught.

"Of course not." He sneers, then pain flashes across his face as a short, sharp spasm shoots through his body.

You resist laughing and spitting out that that's karma for lying.

Instead, you sigh. Still have enough control to refrain from face palming.

Right.

Sure.

However-

As if this all wasn’t obvious enough. Perhaps the most damning evidence of all, is the Converse print on Eli's right cheek.

You look pointedly at Johan's footwear. "And I suppose Eli has become an ambassador for Converse, if he's wearing their logo on his face?”

Eli, on impulse, tries for a nod before his brain catches up and realises how ridiculous that sounds.

You continue on, not missing Eli’s twitch. “It's got nothing to do with you lot fighting, and someone kicking someone in the head, hmm?"

Nervous glances are exchanged.

“Eli didn’t bite Jake? Samuel didn’t give Johan a black eye? Jake didn’t slam Samuel to the ground? Johan didn't give Eli a taste of his shoe?”

This entire conversation is futile. It's clear as day they were fighting. Even a blind, deaf and mute person would be able to tell.

Still.

Bro code.

"No," comes the chorus of voices, and you consider fatally maiming them all yourself.

#who the fuck is eugene anyway #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #jake kim #eli jang #johan seong #samuel seo #jake kim x reader #eli jang x reader #johan seong x reader #samuel seo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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hellodropbear · 1 month

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it's time. (IV)

mapi leon x ingrid engen x child

part I, II and III

enjoy! this is the final part of the series

please send requests for any one shots for this family because I love them!

~~~~~~

The knock at the door was loud and rapid.

Mapi knew exactly who it was, having received very subtly passive text messages from Alexia about 15 minutes earlier.

Besides, it's not like it was going to be Ingrid, and nobody else visited her at the apartment.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she opened the door, bracing herself for whatever Alexia was going to say to her.

No words ever came out though, the midfielder just striding in and sitting herself on the sofa, her feet right beside where Isabel was playing.

"Ale!" The toddler's voice became excited as soon as she noticed her godmother walking in.

"Hey my Is." Her first words were incredibly exasperated, a long sigh escaping as her attention was turned to Mapi who was standing anxiously by the front door, having frozen after closing it.

"Frido told me that Ingrid is 'dejected and confused.'" She used her hands to make quotation marks around the adjectives before continuing. "She told me exactly what you said to her, how you said it. When you said it."

Mapi exhaled softly, walking over to where she had been playing with her daughter and sitting down, her little black cat settling in her lap.

"You told me to talk to her." Her voice came out like a mouse, quiet and hesitant.

"I didn't mean say one sentence on the pitch after the game and walk away! I meant think about what you wanted to say, how to say it and then have a grown up conversation with her!"

Isabel's head whipped back up, unfamiliar with the aggression in Alexia's voice. The midfielder winced, reducing her voice down to a softer tone.

"You are going to have to fix this Mapi, you can't avoid her like I know you were planning on doing."

The centre back's hands were occupied with the toys, but her mind was far from playing as she considered her options.

"What, so I tell her I want to be friends?"

Alexia nodded easily.

"But what if I can't? She's not someone I can just be friends with, Ale."

"Then you can just see where it takes you."

She shakes her head, her hands freezing around the toys in her hands.

"I wish it were that easy."

Alexia's heart broke with Mapi's voice, only now noticing the heartbreak written all over her best friend's face. Because this is really what Mapi thought was the right thing to do.

"Depriving yourself of happiness for the sake of your child is not going to end well for either of you."

Alexia's voice was softer now, her hand coming to a rest on Isabel's curly head of hair.

But Mapi just shook her head again, disagreeing.

"Isabel doesn't deprive me of happiness, she makes me happy. She's kept me going ever since Luis died."

The midfielder knew this, and she knew how much her best friend loved her child, how much she needed her and how much she relied on her. The baby was everything to Mapi and it was so obvious that she was just so afraid of doing something wrong, of messing up Isabel's childhood.

Everyone who knew the mother knew that wouldn't happen because she has done such a good job of raising the happy baby despite her own problems that she could easily let overcome her.

Once, she told Alexia that she had lost a best friend but been given a new one instead.

Another time, she had said that she would never be good enough for the baby that carries half of Luis around with her. She admitted that every once in a while, she would see tiny bits of her late best friend in her child and be so overcome with emotion.

Because it took her best friend dying to have this baby who she loved so much.

The day of Isabel's birth was a day of huge and conflicting emotions because Mapi loved the baby before she even saw her and couldn't imagine giving her away so quickly, but she also knew that if she hadn't just experienced the greatest heartbreak of her life she would have had to give her back to her parents.

And on top of that, the death of Luis and Isabel meant that they wouldn't be able to watch their little girl grow up, they wouldn't be able to be parents, something both of them desired so greatly.

So she loved her baby daughter so much, but part of that love would always be tainted by what she could have been, what she should have been; the fun aunt.

She was given the baby because she was the next best option after the two perfect parents, and she made a promise to herself that she would spend every day of her life trying to live up to what Isabel could have had.

Why should the baby lose out on such good parenting because of a tragic car accident?

And Mapi knew that she could never and would never break that promise.

Alexia knew that too, but she didn't think that Mapi finding someone to love would break her promise. If Ingrid was the right person, she would love and care for Isabel too, just like she already did.

"I know, Maria. But I think you deserve this, I know you do. If you don't like her like that I'll leave you alone, but I think you do."

Mapi's face softened.

"Of course I like her, Ale. She's kind, she's loyal, she's helpful. Is loves her and she loves Is. She's gorgeous - on the inside and the outside but she is so much more than that. She's complex, Alexia and-"

She was interrupted.

"And so are you. We all are complex and that's good. We all have our own stories and hardships, they just vary in size. You have a big story Mapi, I know. She knows that too."

"She doesn't know."

The centre back shook her head because in truth, she hadn't been able to bring herself to say it.

She had spent hours with Ingrid, every day over the past month they'd seen each other, gone on walks, had dinner together. Of course the topic of how Isabel was born should have come up, because Mapi was obviously a gay woman, it wouldn't have just been an accident.

She'd told Ingrid that she gave birth to Isabel, but nothing more.

Ingrid didn't feel like it was her place to ask any questions, and Mapi didn't know how to say anything more without breaking into tears for her lost best friend. She couldn't tell Ingrid about the pressure she felt because the Norwegian wouldn't have understood. Surely, she couldn't have?

Alexia's eyes rose and then focussed back down on Mapi.

"She doesn't know about Luis? Why you were out for so long?"

She shrugged, letting out a long exhale.

"I said that I gave birth to Isabel and didn't want to leave her so soon to go to training. She didn't ask any more questions. It's not like I lied or anything."

"I think you need to talk to her, Mapi. You don't need to talk about Isabel, but you need to tell her your thoughts. Try and be friends, for the sake of the team, please."

Mapi shrugged, telling Alexia that she would consider it.

The midfielder also suggested visiting the psychologist, but the suggestion was quickly shot down, as it was when Jonatan suggested it on her first day back.

Mapi had been to a psychologist once since Isabel was born, and it was a secret she would likely take to her grave. It had been a low point and she didn't know who to talk to, so she searched up a psychologist in Barcelona and went the next day.

She had sobbed on that sofa as Isabel slept in her arms, entirely unsure of what to do next and how to deal with her career, with her baby and with the grief that consumed her everyday life.

The psychologist had sat there with a neutral face, appearing bored as Mapi poured her heart out. She only spoke when Mapi's cries were reduced to quiet whimpers, telling her that she was depressed and shouldn't have taken on a load as big as a whole child when she was still clearly grieving her best friend.

The referral to the psychiatrist had only made the Spaniard feel worse, and she had returned to her apartment with less security in her decisions than she had before she went.

Another promise was made that day, and that was that she would never return to a psychologist, not unless she was forced to by the club. She would deal with everything else on her own.

~~~~~~

"You've been so good to me, Ingrid, and I'm so grateful. But I'm sorry, I can't do this. I can't have a girlfriend."

The words echoed through Ingrid's mind in the days that followed, unsure of what had happened, where she went wrong.

Mapi was the first person she'd become friends with, and she thought it was going well. She thought the Spaniard had liked her just as much as Ingrid liked the Spaniard, but clearly not. She had read the signs wrong or something, because you wouldn't say that to someone you liked.

She heard Isabel calling for her on the bus on the way home again, but this time she just smiled and waved.

She couldn't bring herself to sit next to Mapi, not when she had left her in the dust as soon as she recited her rehearsed lyric. It was confusion that she felt for a few days, but it didn't take long for that confusion to morph into anger and bitterness.

Frido had been understanding throughout it all, listening to all Ingrid's anger and confusion, advising her over and over to just talk to the Spaniard.

"She's got a child and we don't even know where she came from. It took her 14 months to start training again after giving birth when it usually takes up to 9. There must be something going on, Ingrid. She said she can't have a girlfriend, not that she doesn't want one."

The Norwegian had scowled, brushing off Frido's concern for Mapi and complaining that she was supposed to be on her side.

Frido was, but she was level-headed, she was smart. She wasn't blinded by anger or love or whatever Ingrid felt for the short centre-back with the adorable child.

"I don't want to talk to her, I don't want to go and beg. I just want it to be easy, I wish it was just easy."

Frido shook her head, an arm around Ingrid.

"It's not easy for an average person, let alone someone like Mapi who clearly has so much stuff going on. We don't know if she has anyone to talk to about anything, about raising a child."

"Alexia is like Isabel's other parent, she's been there since day one, apparently. Mapi's mum and Alexia were the only ones at the hospital when Isabel was born. She's not completely alone."

Ingrid shrugged but Frido frowned, becoming more and more curious about Mapi found herself with this child, and what the mystery was.

It wasn't her business, Frido knew that, but everyone was so proud of the Spaniard when she went back to training, her first game back. Their pride in the special centre back was more important than anything else after a long two years off.

And Mapi's emotions on that first day, the seemingly happy tears that she had wept in the changing room. They felt like more than happiness about a return to football.

Although, Frido couldn't be sure. Maybe Mapi just loved football more than anything else, a perfectly reasonable and realistic explanation to the emotions that were witnessed that day.

Ingrid knew it was more than that, more than just a return to football that had made her so happy. Because Ingrid knew Mapi, and while football was important to the Spaniard, it was nowhere near as important as her life outside of the sport: her friends, her family. Her daughter.

It was something that Ingrid was so drawn to. It was clear on the pitch how much she loved the sport, how she thrived when she was playing it. But outside of that... it was like she didn't play football.

Her apartment was like a sanctuary, a place cut off from the rest of the world where Isabel could live in naive happiness and Mapi could rest with her baby and her cat. It exuded happiness, bright colours and toys displayed, the fridge decorated with bits of scrap paper covered in a selection of scribbled lines. Mapi would draw Ingrid's attention over to the fridge when a new piece appeared, bragging about how her child was an artistic genius, how she would grow up to be just like her Mami.

She was so full of love for someone so small and it made Ingrid's heart weak, unable to fully comprehend the stark difference between Mapi at football and Mapi with Isabel.

She fell in love, she thought, with both versions of her.

With the one who would carelessly block dangerous shots, carefree and boisterous on the field, assertive and aggressive when she needed to be but always running off with a laugh afterwards. She lead the team in a way that even Alexia admired, the young players drawn to her uncanny ability to make everyone laugh.

She fell in love with the one who spoke in a childish voice, relishing in the never ending hugs and kisses that Isabel would provide, swinging her around in the park and never being more than a couple metres away from the baby that she loved so so much. A perfect mother with a perfect daughter, both so full of love for each other.

And Ingrid felt so lucky that she could see both sides of the Spaniard, that she could witness her around two things she loved so much and compare how differently she materialised her love for both of them.

But then she made her return to a competitive game, in Valencia with a perfect comeback.

Ingrid was so excited for her, happy to see her thriving on the field, a place she loved. She played brilliantly as well, quietening all the people who said she shouldn't be there, that she had spent too much time off.

She proved that she had, in fact, been that missing piece of Barcelona in their past two years of struggle, easily filling in the gap with her generational talent.

And the Norwegian was so proud, despite not knowing the whole story, not knowing all the challenges that Mapi had faced between the birth of Isabel and now. She knew enough to be proud and that is all that mattered.

She had smiled brightly at the Spaniard, walking towards her and pulling her into a hug ready to whisper her congratulations.

But Mapi had other plans, her words rendering Ingrid speechless as she walked away, back down the tunnel with Alexia's arm swung over her shoulders.

But the Norwegian felt frozen in time, unsure of what had just happened and why she said whatever she had just said.

She'd been pulled from her frozen state quickly by Frido, who had noticed the interaction and frowned.

It was easy for the Swede to recognise her best friend's crush, and also to recognise how it was so easily reciprocated by Mapi. She hadn't expected Mapi to say what she said to Ingrid, and was suddenly filled with overprotective and frustrated anger.

~~~~~~

Isabel had begun to miss Ingrid's presence after about a week. It was clear when Mapi took her out on her walks, her small head peering out of the pram, trying to spot the tall Norwegian with those warm and comfortable arms.

Mapi brushed it off every time, but it didn't help the pit in her stomach at all.

The Spaniard was lonely, she realised, and she had been since Isabel was born.

Sure, she had a person living with her, but there was only so much she could say to a baby so little without going crazy at the lack of response. Other than the word 'Mami', of course.

She was lonely before Ingrid, and it was only after she pushed the Norwegian away that she realised how she filled that hole so easily.

Conversation had fallen so easily between them and it filled the silences that Mapi had grown so used to as she lived her life with the baby. She enjoyed talking to someone about things that weren't about her grief, her baby.

She enjoyed talking about herself again, simultaneously getting to know Ingrid and everything she stood for.

She fell for the Norwegian, quickly, but that wasn't hard for her to understand, it hadn't taken her long to realise it.

It was harder to realise that they couldn't be anything more than friends, that she had to push her away - the exact opposite to what she actually wanted to do. She knew Ingrid would be upset. That she'd be confused and angry.

But it's what she knew was right. At least it's what she thought was right.

She wasn't so sure anymore, her heart breaking a little bit more every time Isabel looked around for the Norwegian, her face falling at her absence over and over again.

"Ingrid!"

The lift doors opened to a sweaty Norwegian, headphones in and her eyes on her phone.

Isabel saw her first, Mapi's eyes also on her phone on the trip down.

Both of the adults looked up at each other, Ingrid almost immediately diverting her eyes down to Isabel who was beaming.

"Hello Is! I've missed you!" She smiled at Isabel, and Mapi's smile dimmed slightly.

It was a reminder of what she had pushed away, of everything she couldn't have.

The baby giggled happily, reaching her arms up to try and get Ingrid to lift her.

The Norwegian made eye contact with Mapi, silently checking if it was alright and the centre back nodded easily.

Ingrid tried to ignore the sadness in Mapi's eyes. Maybe the centre back did miss her. Maybe she did regret pushing her away.

Maybe there was a reason why she pushed her away, more than just to hurt the Norwegian.

She picked Isabel up easily and the baby fit perfectly on her hip, planting a kiss on her cheek and wrapping her arms around her neck.

She looked over at Mapi, who was still somewhat frozen by the elevator door.

"Mami! Ingrid." She pointed at the Norwegian. "Play!"

Mapi shook her head.

"No, Is. Ingrid can't come with us."

The baby frowned, tilting her head at Mapi.

"Why?"

"Because she's just been on a walk! She can't go on two."

The Spaniard's voice was weak and Isabel's lip trembled, her smile disappearing as she understood her mother's words.

"No!"

She began to cry and Mapi stood frozen on the spot, completely unsure of what to do.

She wasn't a bad mother, she was better than this. She knew how to calm her crying baby but for some reason she just couldn't move.

She bit back her own tears, refusing to let Ingrid see her cry, to see her so weak and helpless with her baby when she was supposed to be a strong and independent mother.

Ingrid let Isabel cry into her neck, rocking her softly and staring at a frozen Spaniard.

"It's fine, Mapi. I can come."

She frowned at her still frozen form, unsure how else she could deal with the situation.

Mapi didn't know either, but she nodded, somewhat misunderstanding Ingrid's offer when she shoved the pram over to her.

"I can't, I can't deal with this right now." Mapi felt hysterical, but she tried desperately to keep it together. "Please just take her, calm her down. She hates me, she hates me so much."

It wasn't true, obviously, because Isabel loved Mapi more than anything.

But Ingrid knew Mapi, and she knew she wouldn't listen to anything that she had to say in attempts to comfort her.

"I'll take her, come back in an hour or so and you sort yourself out, Mapi. She's confused, she doesn't hate you. She just got used to me and then you got rid of me and is confused about it all. She's only little. So go back to your apartment, calm yourself down and sort yourself out. I'll calm her down and bring her back in one piece."

Mapi nodded aggressively, stepping backwards into the closed lift doors, awkwardly pressing the button as Ingrid walked away with her still crying baby.

It was only when she reached her apartment again that everything hit her. The confusion, the guilt, the stress, the embarrassment.

And she cried. She let everything out as loud as she could because for the first time in so long she was alone in the apartment, no child to hear her cry, no friends to help her work through the emotions.

It never worked, either. Crying was the best way for Mapi to release everything, she realised and she took advantage of the empty apartment as she realised that she hadn't been able to cheer her own daughter up, she had passed off to her teammate as she cried.

She was weak, she was a terrible mother.

She couldn't do it anymore.

Luis would be disappointed.

Worse, Luis would be heartbroken.

And that's what she thought as she fell asleep, the tears tiring her eyes until they dropped closed, sending her off to a restless sleep on the sofa.

~~~~~~

"Wake up, Mapi."

She must have forgotten to lock the door because Ingrid had walked in as she slept and was now sat on the other side of the sofa.

Mapi's eyes snapped open, looking around in confusion before sinking back into herself as she realised it was not just a dream.

"Isabel is ok. She's asleep and I put her down in her cot. She stopped crying pretty quickly and was happy at the park. She fell asleep in her pram on the way back."

Mapi nodded, sitting up and wiping her eyes.

"You need to tell me what's going on."

The Spaniard frowned. There was a lot going on.

"Which bit?" She smiled weakly, faltering under the Norwegian's harsh gaze.

"Why you said what you said. Why you just froze when Isabel was crying, practically running away and letting me deal with it. Why you came up here and cried yourself to sleep. I deserve to know this. I at least deserve to know why you pushed me away so easily and so suddenly."

If there was a time that Mapi wished the floor would swallow her whole, it was right then and there. Because she wasn't prepared for this conversation, she didn't know how she was supposed to have it without breaking down all over again.

It wasn't an easy topic, talking about why she can't date which is what had caused the whole debacle. It opened the whole story about Luis and how Isabel was created.

And of all times, this night was the worst possible time for Mapi to speak about Luis. Right after she realised how disappointed he would be in her parenting, how sad he would be that his daughter was being raised by someone so incapable.

It was funny, really, how one tiny situation could change Mapi's entire perspective, how it could completely destroy any confidence she had about her parenting abilities.

She didn't want to talk about it, not at all. But Ingrid was right there, a judgemental yet somewhat concerned eye focused on the Spaniard who seemed to be struggling to form a sentence.

The silence lasted multiple minutes and Ingrid was about to speak again right before Mapi opened her mouth.

She didn't know what she was going to say, but she knew she needed to say something, so she did.

She started at the beginning, with Isabel's health issues and Ingrid had no idea where it was going.

Why did it matter that Mapi's best friend's wife was sick?

But very quickly, as Mapi spoke about their desires to become parents, everything began to fall into place.

And the Norwegian was horrified by the tragic story she was hearing, a lump in her throat forming as the mother lamented how she was the only option left to raise Isabel, how she was alone in her final trimester until Alexia came over two weeks later and found out that Luis had died, that her best friend had been left behind with his unborn baby, her life changed forever.

His genetics still growing inside her long after he took his final breaths.

Mapi didn't stop as her voice broke, moving away from the topic of Luis and onto how much Isabel meant to her, how much she worried that she would make a mistake, that her friends would have made such better parents than she did.

How she had to have full focus on raising Isabel and couldn't be distracted by anything - she couldn't be distracted by football in the beginning which is why she took so long to come back. How she can't be distracted by a girlfriend now, which is why she pushed Ingrid away.

Ingrid wiped a tear away as Mapi's fell freely, continuing to explain how she had been depressed but unable to get herself any help after the one disastrous trip to the psychologist.

How she felt incapable of unloading her issues onto others, only telling Alexia the necessary stuff to stop her from nagging.

"Luis would be so disappointed in me because I have ruined everything. I can't do anything by myself and I never should have agreed to keep her. I love her so much, I don't want to ruin her."

That was where the Spaniard stopped, seemingly overcome with emotion as she broke down into her hands, Ingrid quick to move to her side and pull her into a warm hug.

"You're so wrong, Mapi. So wrong. I've never heard anyone be more wrong in my life. You are the best mother Isabel could ask for and it hurts that you can't see that."

Mapi could only cry, too conflicted to even try and decide what was true.

"Ale said I needed to talk to you, to fix things. Because I don't want you to hate me and I definitely don't hate you. But Ingrid, we can't just be friends, you know that."

She looked up at the Norwegian, who easily noticed the anguish all over her face.

"Why don't we try? See where it takes us. We can figure it out together, Mapi, you don't have to do everything alone."

She nodded, trying to convince the both of them that they could try.

And Mapi nodded hesitantly.

"Isabel does like you."

Ingrid chuckled quietly, nodding.

"Not as much as she loves you. She was asking for you about 2 minutes after we left. You are so good to her."

Mapi smiled, leaning into Ingrid's embrace.

"I don't think I can be just friends with you, Ingrid. I think that's why I've been so upset."

Ingrid hummed in agreement, waiting for her to continue.

"I've been so worried about losing you and so worried about being distracted from Is. But I don't think I ever could be, I don't think you'd ever let me be."

The Norwegian chuckled.

"I don't think she'd ever let you, she loves the attention too much."

And just like that, Mapi knew.

Ingrid was the right person, the person Alexia had been going on about for years, since before Isabel was even considered.

"And Mapi?"

Mapi looked up, her eyes meeting Ingrid's.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you either."

She smiled, placing her hand around Mapi's neck and drawing her close.

Mapi leaned in closer and waited for Ingrid to finally close that small gap.

And then Ingrid's lips were on hers, a promise, a declaration of love.

And Mapi made another promise to herself, right then and there.

She would never let Ingrid go.

~~~~~~

right so that’s the end! hope you’ve enjoyed so far!

not the end of Isabel Leon because I already have a few requests for her that have been thought about or planned (some of them)

I also have the blurb of her at the Olympics (2032) doing her sport that nobody has guessed so I’ll give you an obvious clue - it’s an action sport lol

I’m considering putting her in something else too but they’re like polar opposite disciplines so let me know if you think yes or no

and please send me requests because I want to write more about Isabel!

thanks for reading and for the love on this story, you’ve made me cry from all the nice messages

have a good day :)

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #woso imagine #alexia putellas

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pocketsizedowls · 2 months

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My Conspiracy Theory about Natlan's Pale Characters

I started playing Genshin Impact around the 3.7 update, right after the Interdarshan Championship. While I wasn't around during the initial spark of outrage against Sumeru due to the characters' overall lack of melanin, I eventually learned a lot about Sumeru's cultural inspirations through the SWANA and South Asian creators in the fandom. I think it's beautiful how we learn about each other's cultures through Genshin, and I believe the designers at Hoyoverse do lots of research to facilitate these conversations. This is why I think it's a shame that Natlan, which features rich Indigenous cultures in the Americas, Africa, and Pacific Islands, features primarily pale characters AGAIN.

While it's possible that through the art, story, and fashion of Natlan we will once again learn about the diverse cultures of Indigenous Americas, West Africa, and the Pacific Islands, I don't think it's enough. Considering a lot of these cultures take pride in their skin color and bodies through tattoos, body paint, and other markings/piercings, Hoyoverse is doing a disservice to today's Latin American, African, and Pacific islander fan base by making the majority of Natlan characters pale. To insensitively cherry-pick what traits of each culture to represent and what to discard is the definition of cultural appropriation and racism, which is such a shame because of how many discussions about culture that Genshin has started since 2020. As a Chinese American player, I'm especially disappointed that the company who educated so many people about my culture is failing my brown and Black friends to such a spectacular degree.

Many people have come up with excuses such as it's just skin, it's just a game, Hoyoverse is a Chinese company so what do you expect, Latin America also has white people, etc. I won't bother debunking these myths because there are plenty of people doing this labor already, but what I do want to bring people's attention to is the fact that many Natlan characters were most likely designed with darker skin in mind. Through fanmade recolorings (here's an example), I noticed that Mualani and Kachina's tan lines and skin details look more pronounced with darker skin, while Xilonen looks more mature and Kinich looks more brooding. Having studied studio art during undergrad, I cannot unsee these intentional artistic decisions and cannot shake the possibility that the researchers and character designers of Hoyoverse were forced by higherups to whitewash everyone at the very last minute. If this is true, I hope Hoyoverse will find some way to reverse their decision or turn a new leaf in the future. Considering many other Chinese games like Reverse: 1999 and Dislyte already have diverse representation and melanated characters, Hoyoverse should find no problem following their lead.

As of right now (i.e. 4.8 update), Genshin players from all over the world are expressing their dissatisfaction with Hoyoverse through boycotts, review bombing, and posting on social media. The Chinese fanbase - Hoyoverse's primary audience - is especially vocal and organized about their efforts, which means if Hoyoverse doesn't notice now, they will notice soon. Despite how much we like using Genshin as an escape from real life, it's important to recognize how insidious the consequences of erasing melanated characters can be. Anti-Blackness and colorism harm people on the daily, which is why we must speak up when a company as big and influential as Hoyoverse is doing the harming.

Thanks for reading! Here are some related threads from X, formally known as Twitter:

Petition to "Stop Cultural Appropriation and Whitewashing in MiHoYo Games"

Valeria Rodriguez, i.e. Surcrose's English VA's thoughts on Natlan

Natlan Characters Look Better with a Dark Skintone

Kaveh rerunning in 4.8 is a ploy for WHAT!?!?!?

We Should All Email Hoyoverse

Official Account for HYV Boycott

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sapphireneil · 6 months

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His special Gift // Demon!Leviathan x sub!m! Reader NSFW

CW: frustrated Levi, Demon form, tail shenanigans (tail fucking), *unprotected* anal sex, teasing, marking, usage of petnames for reader, dashes of praise and degradation, breeding kink mentions, established relationship, implied pet play

Obey Me! Leviathan x sub!m! Reader

In honor of his birthday <3 - dedicated to Noé

You watched in frustration as Levi stormed out of the living room, off into his own. You and the brothers had wanted to get get him a signed edition of the Ruri☆Tunes game which had been a limited edition on Akuzon. Unfortunately they were sold of in a few seconds, making it impossible for either of you to get one and since they went on sale the night before Leviathans birthday, all of you were left empty handed… almost.

You get up, leaving the living room and paying no mind to the dirty comments the brothers were making. Heading to your lovers room, you fumble a bit at your clothing, adjusting your uniform so the suprise you had prepared, wouldn‘t be spoilered.

That done, you knock at his door, allowing yourself in, as he didn‘t respond, seeing your lover curled up in his favorite gaming chair, gaze fixed on his DDD. „Hey…“ you spoke, with caution, as you spotted the horns on his head and the tail that had wrapped around the chair he sat in. You knew that he would never hurt you, and that you could avoid it even if he'd try, considering the pact you'd made, but to provoke an already hurt demon, never was a good idea.

So all you did was unbuttoning the upper part of your uniform, revealing the seams of some velvety lingerie top, which left your collarbones bare, a light purple dog collar lying smug around your neck. Attached to it, was a small metal plate, heart shaped, the engraved letters reading your beloved's name - Leviathan. The metal made a slight jiggle sound, causing the purple haired male to look up at you, finally, his pupils widening as he processed what he was looking at, blushing, mouth agape.

"Whoa-" Levi gasped, blinking in disbelief, putting his phone down without a second glance at it.

You took this reaction, and his fixed gaze, as an invitation to undress yourself further, eventually leaving yourself in only the top and some brief underwear, which did absolutely nothing to conceal your already raging boner. With curiosity you gazed into Levis eyes, watching contently as his split tongue darted out briefly to wet his lips, eying you up and down. There's silence between the two as his gaze grows more lustful with the second.

Before you could speak up, his tail wraps around your waist, pulling you to him, with more force than actually would've been necessary, but it only illustrates his need for you, so you weren't going to complain as you comfortably settled into his lap, the black tail still snug around your waist as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look in his eyes. Where frustration was just a second ago, now glistened want.

"Thats the best surprise gift I have ever received ~" Levi murmurs, his tone hushed, lower than usual, as he finally brings his lips to yours.

You sigh into the kiss, parting your lips as he hooks a finger under the collar, pulling you closer. A few moments its just tongues battling for dominance and small moans of desperation until you need to part for air, lips all red and puffy.

"Awww, won't you look at that, so eager to please me puppy~" he coos, making you whine and thrust your cock against his, the precum already staining your pretty underwear, as you whine, desperate for friction. Levi just chuckles, his tail loosening around your waist, just to sneakily make its way into your panties, making the fabric rub against your already painfully hard cock. Swishing, his tail made way to your hole, showing how exited your beloved was. Very exited.

You gasp, hands grasping your beloveds thighs as you felt the tip of his tail inside of you, moaning at the sudden stretch, your back arching, as a signal for him to proceed, eager to feel these parts of his tail inside you which would make your panties burst at the seams. As if he had heard your thoughts, Levis tail retracts, leaving you empty and whining from the loss of touch. „Take these off for me okay baby,?“ he whispers, right next to your ear, shivers going down your spine, as you remove yourself from your lovers lap to oblige to his request.

beautiful Lingerie joins black clothing on the floor, now only the collar was left on your body, the metal plate clattering slightly, as you move to settle back down in your naked boyfriends lap again, straddling his thighs with yours and hooking your feet behind his back. „Such a pretty puppy… all mine“ Leviathan whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear, and yet it causes the butterflies in your stomach to spark.

The purple haired quickly kisses your flushed cheeks, before his mouth makes its way to claim you as his. In a matter of seconds, your neck and shoulders are plastered in bite marks and deep purple hickeys, his forked tongue apologetically gliding over your irritated skin, making you whine and buck your hips up in desperation, your cock rubbing against his. This made your boyfriend whine in response, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as you felt his tail inside you again, stretching your insides. „Feels good…“ you whine, in an desperate attempt to fuck yourself even deeper onto your lovers tail. Leviathan did nothing but visibly enjoying the obscene picture in front of him, which only added to the sensations his tail could feel when you clenched around him, wanting him even deeper inside your womb. Levi let out a low hum as he pressed one hand on the bulge that his tail left in your womb, right over your neglected dripping cock, where you wanted him most. Desperately you whine, burying your head in the crook of his neck, as you try chasing your orgasm on his tail. „Look at you my dirty little pup, fucking yourself stupid on my demon tail… but it isn‘t enough, is it?“ he coaxes, his voice way too gentle for the dirty words that left his mouth. You let out a moan at the embarrassing words, inching yourself closer to him, your dicks touching, just for Levi to breathily moan in your ear and pull back his tail, now the scales were wet and sloppy. Whining in protest, as you now felt incredibly empty, but before I could even question the cause of his actions you were cut off by his tail lifting you onto his cock.

Levis hands now on your waist, forcing his entire length deep inside of your womb, deep enough to almost kiss your cervix. You squirm and writhe in pleasure, begging for him to move. "You're such a pretty boy, aren't you? Mhhh im gonna make sure to breed you all nice and full~ so that everyone knows you're mine and mine only~" he says, his voice almost dangerously low, etching into a growl. His hands still stayed flush on your waist, keeping you in place as he started thrusting into you at a steady and fast, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck, as if anchoring yourself onto sanity. He bounced you on his cock like a helpless little fucktoy, and yet your hole kept sucking him in greedily as he penetrated that sweet spot inside of you, making your legs shake and moans spill from your lips. "L-levi~" you breathe out, signaling how close you were to your release. That was all he needed to steady his pace, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he got close too, the end of his tail now pressing both of your cocks together, jerking them off in a pace that matches his thrusts of his second cock. You can only hear him moan out your name before his spills from your lips as well. You fill his hot thick cum fill up and paint your insides in white, the rest of the seed painting Leviathans chest.

Both of you need a while to catch your breath, slowly coming down from your high when Levis hands release you, and you fall forward into his chest, lacking the energy to hold yourself up any longer. Carefully, Levi pulls out, not wanting to hurt you, before wrapping you up in his comforting embrace. Just before you slip into dreamscape, you hear Leviathan mumble something in the crown of your hair

"I don't need birthday gifts as long as I have you, my love."

Whoaaaa, that was another long one- this originally was supposed to be just a short drabble, and it sort of escalated into...this

Hope you enjoyed :)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x male reader #om! leviathan #obey me levi x reader #obey me x you #male reader smut #obmnb #obey me nightbringer #xiaosfavqingxin #requests open

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gortashs-skidmark · 5 months

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Tieflings DnD - variations for the fanfic writers and artists!! -

There’s a lot about tieflings on the internet. THESE ARE CANON, except for one thought i put in.

If you’re gonna do BG3 fanfics about Tieflings, please please please consider adding some spice with origin lore and CANON facts about their race :) it would be SO fun!

Pls I need more zevlor fanfic too.

PLS READ: I don’t believe in censorship or ignoring the subject of people who are oppressed, but be mindful of how you write and use oppression of dnd races on your tav pls.

- Orange; Canon Historical Events, Abilities, Bodily Facts, and Bloodlines. It means i think you should look into it.

Pink: I think it's cute. Red; Warning, Comment Purple; Headcanon (only one of them)

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; <3 ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

- Tieflings are prone to bad luck, because of the Curse of Aasimar.

- Planar Proverb “don’t ever make a bet with a Tiefling” hey I already made one with Lakrissa.

- They’re arcanally gifted, most of them. Zariel Tieflings are much better melee fighters.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

- Tielfling Blood; is tainted from the hells so they could have human parents. Be descendants of demon, devils, evil deities, night hags, and succubus!

- i know y’all love aphrodisiac fanfics, succubus spittle is exactly what you need dawg. Someone make me a fanfic including succubus heritage.

- along with that, Tieflings are unable to breed with anyone except humans or other Tieflings. Literally. They can be Tiefling or human.

- Usually there is some tell to if they’re Zariel, Asmodeus, Mephistopheles by birth mark, or traits like cat eyes, or night hags bloodlines have red eyes without pupils or scelaras

EDIT: I thought the flaming pupils were cat-like slit eyes in the game, but Karlach does indeed have regular slits!

- Tieflings can be male, female, or without gender. It is a canon fact. A win for my gender struggling homies.

- They can have green, blue, purple, pink, yellow, red skin tones. With dark hair colors only like black, purple, dark red and blue. I don’t care for this, genes be gene-ing so have any color you want.

Mephestopheles is recorded as to having blue skin, pale blue whites and red eyes, soot black scales, with large wings in the 2nd Manual. BUT in a 3e version he is described having red skin, bat wings, being 9ft, with white eyes, and slick black hair. Both of these are present in Mephestophic Bloodlines in BG3. Raphael is the son, though cambion, is red.

Asmodeus rules the Nine Hells. Mephestopheles being his archduke, only rules the 8th layer. Asmodeus has a humanoid, and a scale-fiend version of himself. He's red, slim, 13ft tall, horned, vibrant red eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard. He is Lawful-Evil.

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The Blood War (where Karlach escaped) is described as a "philosophical war" and which kind of evil would rule. Asmodeus plays a part but didn't start it, it's rooted in ancient Hell conflicts. Asmodeus claimed it was a senselessly bloody conflict from a militia standpoint. He really hates it, he's not a fan of it. INFERNAL POLITICS ARE FUCKING COMPLICATED. look into it :)

Zevlor was a Hellrider or Rider of Elturel! a Cavalry unit for Elturel during the 14th and 15th century. They ride horseback, and use spears and bows. They're well reguarded!! Zevlor should have more pride in himself for his service, being a refugee isn't his fault, or The Descent.

In the late 1400's striving for Paladin Knighthood in the Order of Companion was a rank of Hell rider. Before and after the year 1494, you could be a Paladin and join freely.

The Order of Companions was an Elturel, of Western Heartland, theocratic realm of Paladin Knighthood. It's just a region of Paladins that are highly reguarded. They typically worship Tyr, Torm, Helm, and Aumanator.

They kept order in the high capital of Elturel, preserving local civilization from outer destruction. They're super Lawful Good.

Typically an Oath of Devotion or an Oath of the Crown.

"For a City Guard, they outmatched the armies of the Whole Realm" - Forgotten Wiki Realms

They guard general land, they aren't really police, and can escort as far as Waterdeep if privileged to. It is a job they hold for life. I FUYCKING LOVE HELLRIDERS.

Shortly after Elturel’s descent into Avernus, the Tieflings were blamed for the fall, and expelled from the city entirely. Zevlor and any tiefling hellrider’s title has been stripped from them. Any hellrider’s were arrested at The Gate. And the reputation of tieflings sunk even lower.

Badlurian’s are Elturian’s rivals but Duke Ravenguard was tricked into coming to Elturel for politics and ended up helping and sending in troops to help fight. He’s extra important! I might find Wyll, all though lovely, useless, his father is very brave and noble and amazing for what he does.

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- Tieflings can have feathers! Although rare. They can have fur, scales, or be bald like humans. They can be any variation of sorts!

- A more common portrayal of tieflings, is having solid colored eyes, whites and irises the same color. They can be black, red, silver, gold, or white.

- Tieflings are technically minorities and don’t live in the highest neighborhoods. It gives them an even worse reputation.

- Most of the Tieflings with famous status, also give bad reps. Climbing their way to the top in corruption.

- When Tieflings get nervous, experience anxiety, or are upset. They’re known to wrap their tails around their leg!! Super telling.

- They can use their tail like a monkey, very dexterous about it. It’s about 5-6ft long.

- Their ages, weight, height. All similar to humans. Idk how logical that is with 5 extra feet of meat behind them. Sometimes they can live longer, to about 120-150 years old.

- Tieflings can look just like humans. Though they can have their hellish features, those with strong hellish features are often killed at birth out of disgust.

- They can also have legs of a goat, tail akin to a horse or a lizard.

- Tieflings can be really good at thieving, hiding, and deceit.

- their diet consists of meat, marrow, gristle, fat, and bones. They’re highly carnivorous. They even eat roasted insects.

- Many worship Besheba, the goddess of bad luck, finding similarities in them and their goddess.

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- Tieflings are as sensitive as humans, same hearing. They usually have dark vision. And their body temperatures can be colder or warmer than humans depending on their type of tainted blood. --Mephistopheles blood lines are from the frozen layer of hell, maybe their blood is colder.

- They don’t purr, sorry girlies. They’re closer to humans than Tabaxis or Driders.

- Tieflings don’t regrow horns unless they’re still young, though they do tend to file them down.

- They have a natural unsettling aura about them. Even if their heritage is unknown to others, it makes people uncomfortable. They also can smell of sulphur.

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- There are so many Tieflings bloodlines. I love the Babau Tieflings bc they’re already known as uncanny creatures-- Babau Tieflings are gaunt and skinny, darker skin, and a small horn coming from the back of their head.

- Marilith Tieflings are known to be seductive- more than they already are, and have dark hair. They have snake-like half-bodies and have grey tongues.

- Succubus Tieflings! They’re like the ones you see in bg3, often have a small set of wings.

- Tieflings can have so many fucking variations it makes me dizzy.

- Tieflings can have bat-like wing shaped ears, that perk up and shit. I know yall think about ear movements. <zevlor has this>

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Edit: Ya'll loved this :) I can do another on Tiefling politics if ya'll want. Or more bloodlines and fun facts if you want.

I have built another list of Canon facts about Driders and Kar'niss Headcanons if you monster fuckers are interested!!

Currently in the works; He Who Was Headcanons and Shadar'Kai canon facts and events.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tiefling #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #karlach #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart

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lovekendri · 1 year

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shameless | finnick odair

finnick odair x fem!reader

request: Hiii! i love your peeta fics, would you be able to do a Finnick story kinda the same as your one with peeta where it’s the reader’s first time? ♥️

thank you so much for your request @emiiixx! this was originally just going to be a fluffy fun spicy fic but i think this might have what you're looking for! ♡

summary: you attend a celebration party for your boyfriend's 10th anniversary as a hunger games victor, his charisma leads you to your first time.

cw: 18+ only! established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), bit of a pleasure dom!finnick, inexperienced!reader, mention of fingering, tiny bit of a choking kink, praise kink, marking kink if you squint, aftercare!

wc: 2.6k

type: ❀ | ✽

Loud yet incoherent music pumped throughout the crowded central area of District 4, a celebration for none other than your boyfriend.

You were lost in crowds of people and circles of tables, yet flooded with questions and admiration of how incredibly lucky you were to have such a desirable man, how delightful he must be to have around your finger.

In reality, you were wrapped around his finger.

He was yours, you were his, it was a truly simple relationship to the unlucky outsiders. From afar, you'd watch him be spun around by eager teenage girls and obsessed older ladies, desperate middle aged mothers and intoxicated younger girls. You watched him receive kisses on the cheeks, girls jumping for just a single peck anywhere near his lips.

He was yours.

A cup in your hand and surrounded by teenage girls dying to know what a kisser he was at their young age, you felt superior to consider him yours.

"He's definitely a good kisser, right?" one girl would chirp, pleading to be heard over the boom of loud speakers.

"What about a tongue kisser? Does he like that?" another would pry.

"My boyfriend loves to do that stuff," the third would drawl, fanning herself in exclamation.

"Oh, honey, I don't think you know the next thing about tongue kissing yet," you'd say, giving a breathy laugh. "You'll get there."

You walked past multiple groups of people, some who wouldn't acknowledge you, but others who waved politely and said hello.

Your target was Finnick, and as you walked up to him, you set a light hand on his shoulder and trailed your fingers around his black collared shirt.

It was your favorite way to get his attention.

He turned to you almost immediately, a glint of light in his eyes appeared and a playful grin grew on his face as he trailed you walking around to his side, signature smile glowing.

He admired your matching sparkly black dress, taking in the sight before speaking.

"I missed your face, pretty girl," he said, just loud enough to hear over the blare of music, taking your jaw into his rough hand and grazing your lips with his thumb. His hand was swift to trail around your neck and down your back to pull you to his side.

Loud cheers from a group of people sounded from behind you at the gesture, as you two were the life of the party. He smiled at the acknowledgement, your giggle lighting up his face. He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead softly, fingers squeezing at your side.

Besides fighting off girls, he was talking to other mentors and victors of District 4, popular among the other Careers who had fought alike to the death. It was common to have them over at your house in Victor's Village to have small gatherings and dinners.

"I'll say day after day, lucky woman," a female victor said to you, winking at you and nodding her head toward Finnick.

"Oh, please. I'm sure you could get him any day, having won the Hunger Games and all," you joked back, ignoring the playful glare down from Finnick and the bite of his fingers digging into your side to pull you closer.

Her name was Rose, and she was a bit of an older lady, probably in her late 30's, early 40's. She supposedly won the Games when she was 16, pretty much the average age to win, but she was pretty, blonde, tall, and looked surprisingly young. Though, you suppose, the Capitol helps out with that a bit.

Rose and another male victor laughed with you as Finnick rolled his eyes and sputtered about how he wishes he could strangle you sometimes, and that you drive him insane most days.

"Man," Finnick lowered his voice to talk in the small circle of four other people as they leaned in to hear him, "I'd enjoy some sugar cubes and sparkling juice in the comfort of my own home right now."

The victors in the circle laughed nodding in agreement. You watched a male victor put his hands into his pockets, his posture slouching back in his dress shirt and pants. Another victor took a sip of his drink, while Rose looked toward Finnick.

"You should share some sugar cubes with your lovely girlfriend," she joked, "I'm sure she'd love them."

Finnick turned to you, nodding.

"I know it's my party, but I'm sneaking out of here," he laughed, "nobody will notice anyways with you guys around."

Finnick winked at Rose and another victor that was paying attention, sliding his hand into yours and pulling you away from the party, pushing through a small gate to lead you toward Victor's Village.

He was practically dragging you through roads.

"Slow down!" you laughed, "we don't have to fly out of the party!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, halfway down a lit street toward his house. Not expecting him to stop so abruptly, you slammed into him.

"Not that slow!" you said, playfully punching his arm as you giggled out the pain in your cheek that you felt.

"Oh, you're fine," he said, grabbing your jaw, and kissing you on the forehead once again.

You loved when he kissed you anywhere, but you loved forehead kisses and steamy make-out sessions. Finnick made you feel like the only girl in the world, the only one he lusted and loved for.

He pulled you the rest of the way to his house, pulling his keys out of his dress pants pocket to unlock the door.

He pushed open the door, flipping on the light switch and leading you directly to his cozy living room, the simple chandelier casting a warm beige glow over the room.

You fell face first into the denim colored velvet couch, rubbing your hands into the soft fabric and releasing a heavy exhale in relief. You felt the couch dip beside your legs, and the zipper on the back of your dress loosened, slowly being undone.

"Can I take your shoes off for you, love?" he asked, his hand now rested on your back at the bottom of your zipper.

You kicked your feet up onto his lap, and exhaled once again, getting comfy as he helped you undress. He had no problem undoing your heel buckles and pulling them off, dropping them onto the ground.

You heard Finnick take a long inhale, running the hand that rested on your back along your spine and onto the back of your neck. He leaned down, laying halfway on the side of the couch.

Gently tucking his face into your neck, he gave you a few pecks on the empty spaces his hand didn't cover.

"Finnick," you exhaled into the couch, lifting a hand to place on his thick bicep. He paused his kisses, listening to your quiet breathing get faster.

"Something wrong, my love?" he asked, murmuring into your neck. Licking a spot on your neck and biting it softly, he pushed a gasp out of your throat.

"Didn't think so."

You squeezed his arm once more, tingles and swirling heat building in your stomach as he kissed you more, leaving small bruises along your neck the more he bit.

"Can we try something new tonight?" he asked quietly, face still buried into your neck and hand wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling where your head moved if you even tried to move it.

He had as much as fingered you before, and you two often made out. You had never experienced full sex with him, but you were eager to if he offered.

"I'd have no problem with that," you said, your stomach now a whirling tornado of heat and butterflies the more he spoke. Your throat was constricting from both his hand and the anticipation, nervous to try something so new with him.

He erected himself once again, sitting up straight on the couch and dragging his hands around your hips. Squeezing your waist, he pulled at your hips to have you sit up for him.

You picked yourself up, adjusting yourself to face him.

Your cheeks were hot from laying face down, but also because of the way he admired you, his eyes darting around your body as he took in your image with a sharp inhale.

"Come here, pretty girl," he cooed, undoing the belt that held up his dress pants, watching your expression like a hawk as you stared in awe at his seemingly perfect and precise movements.

Your cheeks began to burn bright red as you watched him pull the belt from the belt loops and undo the button around his waist, your stomach swirling aggressively with heat and arousal as he watched you.

He left the button open, pushing the fabric to the side and revealing a set of black boxers and readjusting his hips to sit away from the couch cushion, manspreading, as he grabbed for your hips to pull you on top of him.

You scooted toward him, allowing him to grab you by the hips and pull you on top of his lap, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

This would be the only time you were taller than him, and the way his warm, plump lips guided and pushed against yours erupted a volcano of butterflies. Your thighs were bare against his legs, the soft fabric of his pants warm and inviting.

Your dress was loose against your back, the thin straps beginning to fall down your shoulders ever so slightly, the hem of the dress riding up your legs the more you kissed him, his hands tightly gripped onto your hips.

Finnick was focused on making you feel the best he could, trailing his lips down your jaw and throat, kissing dangerously low on your collarbone and chest.

When he pulled away, you met his eyes, looking down at him for the first time in your life. They were darkened with lust and desire, his mouth curling up on the sides as he watched the redness of your face deepen, your eyes darkening with the same lust, plagued with need.

He looked down, a small breathy laugh falling out of his lips. He moved his face toward your chest, his hands slowly moving up your hips to place his hands over your breasts.

He kissed around your breasts, sometimes licking a small spot before biting it until he dropped his hands onto your hips again.

Moving his face up your neck to rest his lips against your ear, he whispered.

"You ready, love?"

You exhaled quietly, nodding as he adjusted his pants once again, pulling down his boxers.

It sort of sprung up against his stomach, a perfect length with girth, a few prominent small veins running up to a glistening dark pink head.

Your face was the color of a ripe tomato, watching as he stroked himself once or twice, grabbing your hips and looking up to you once again.

You lifted yourself up, preparing for him to sit you himself.

As he adjusted to sit you on him, the entrance of his dick for the first time sent electrifying butterflies through your body, a light moan pushing past your lips as he sat you all the way down with ease, your thighs once again meeting his dress pants.

He grabbed for your ass, squeezing gently as he began to rock you back and forth, hitting the perfect spot to send butterflies and heat coursing through your body.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned, throwing his head back, gripping your ass tighter as he forced himself to move your hips at the same pace.

Small moans and whimpers released from your throat every time he rocked you, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his head into your chest as you gripped the back of his shirt.

He began to move you faster, his fingers digging into your ass to leave a definite mark on you the next morning.

"You feel so good," he praised, his moans breathy and deep, heat building quickly in your stomach as he moved your hips faster.

He shook your arms loose a bit to kiss your neck once again, biting harsher than before, licking the spots when you'd gasp. You'd push your head down to kiss him, moans and whimpers threatening to break the kiss when he'd thrust just right, the friction between your thighs and his pants growing hot. Your straps had fallen down your shoulders now, your breasts barely covered by a strip of fabric with Finnick's face buried by your neck.

The fact he was fully clothed while you were practically falling naked in front of him was oddly arousing, the idea of him watching you strip from his thrusts made your face hot. The darkened light of the living room and the occasional creak of the old couch left the room in a steamy sensation, the rest of the house black with empty light while nothing mattered to Finnick, just you feeling good.

This was the best thing he'd ever treated you to, his perfect dick sliding in and out of you with no effort, the kisses and nips he'd leave at your neck to mark you as his. The muffled sound of skin slapping as pants met bare thigh, the jingle of the metal buckle that laid to the side.

"Come on, I know you're close, baby."

You felt the rush of an upcoming orgasm as he plead for you, his hands grew impossibly tighter on you, practically slamming you onto his cock as your body erupted in butterflies.

"Cum for me, pretty girl."

White hot heat burst through your body, loud moans and cusses falling from your lips as he worked you through your orgasm, the butterflies and searing pleasure overtaking your body as you collapsed against his chest, your head falling to his shoulder.

Deep moans erupted from his mouth as he worked himself through his own orgasm moments later, slowing you to a halt, his hands leaving your ass to caress your body.

"You're such a good girl," he cooed once again, kissing your neck and pulling you up from his body to look at him.

His smile was soft and genuine, your body exhausted from the best thing you'd ever felt.

"Let's get you cleaned up, darling," he whispered, pulling you off of his lap to place you down against a pillow off to the side.

He stood up, buttoning his pants once again and leaving the room for a few minutes.

You'd heard various lights switch on and off, listening to the softness of his footsteps around the house.

Finnick came back with a pair of plaid pajama pants and an old tee of his, a wet towel, and a small box of cookies and water from the pantry.

Helping you up, he wiped you down with the towel, helping you take off your dress and replace it with the pajamas and tee. He sat you back down against the cushion, turning around to grab the cookies.

"The best for last," he smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly as he set the cookies and water on the table in front of you, turning on the tv to a show you'd never seen before, the volume barely up.

As you took a cookie, he laid down next to you and placed your head on his lap, relaxing as you combed your fingers through his hair, the sound of the tv and the quietness of his breath soon lulling you to sleep.

main masterlist | my profile | thg masterlist | request | proof-read: ✓

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jaundicity · 10 days

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i have a lot more to criticize about this show but let me tell you guys the real tea of it all..

the writer's team for HOTD simply does not know how to portray war.

they don't know the complexities of war, nor do they hold a knowledgable grasp of the true horrors of it and how it affects everyone from the powers orchestrating it (eg. the blacks and the greens) to the people at the bottom.

now, i'm not saying that they should put on their soldier helmets and go fight in wars, because that's stupid and as much as i dislike them, i don't want that for them at all, but i am pointing out that they clearly don't understand that the dance isn't an easy heroes v. villains superhero battle that they have written it out to be, because it's not.

it's a criticism of war and its destructive nature, of the powers that basically damn innocent people to die for nothing because of their rulers aka. the people who should be protecting them ultimately letting their desires cloud their duties to the land they're overseeing. for the writers to not understand that and basically glaze over what george was basically saying through the text in favor of producing HBO's attempt at marvelizing the WOIAF is truly gutting, because why even try to make war a winning game? it isn't.

fuck, even movies and tv shows outside of that do so much better at portraying the messages that the OG dance has that HOTD has failed to drive home. come and see, all quiet on the western front, even the hunger games especially in mockingjay— those are fantastic media that accurately or even come completely close to portraying how devastating war can get. so much horror, grief, rage and overall tragedy is shown in the three pieces of media that i just listed, so it is insulting to me and hopefully to others that ryan and co. had not seriously considered looking to them or any other media for inspiration on how to accurately hit the mark on the original story's real themes for the show.

#i've been rambling for a hot minute but MAN these writers have me heated #they had the opportunity to deliver what could've been the most impactful series in terms of its themes derived from the original source #but instead they were like MARVEL MOVIE!! HEROES AND VILLAINS!! BLACK AND WHITE MORALITY!!#like congratulations! you have utterly and disgustingly failed at what the original source material was trying to say #anti hotd #anti hotd writers #anti ryan condal #anti sara hess #hotd critical #jaundice.txt

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elorathebard · 4 months

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Everyone In BG3 Has The Same Ass (PROOF)

This is a follow up post to this one. ALRIGHT here's my photographic evidence that everyone in this game has the same ass. Pictures are under the read more. I revoked penis privileges for all the character models and censored the general crotch area, but there will be bare booty. Consider yourself warned.

Alright here's all ya men. Models and textures have been ripped straight from the game data, color values are taken from the game's code, and shaders have been painstakingly recreated by the great Volno, with a few slight tweaks by me to get the textures to look better in EEVEE. (Sorry everyone, I don't have the patience to wait 15 minutes per photo to render ass comparisons in cycles)

The black backdrop is there because otherwise y'all would be staring into a featureless bright white void. Dark mode users cry, Astarion's chin disappears, it's just ugly all around.

Here's the view from the back.

And here's your side view.

Now, I know you're wondering. Did Elora fuck with the camera angles or use different models, all to convert us to her devious ass-genda? Be comforted, dear viewers, because I came prepared. With measurements.

Now, we know from a tweet from Larian that Astarion is 5' 9". I'm a little skeptical of that number myself, since there's a Githyanki line in the game that puts him at 5' 11". There's also the fact that if you convert the feet to inches, you get The Funny Sex Number. But whatever, I'll play along.

Here's a ruler that's exactly as tall as Astarion, divided into 69ths. If the number Larian gave us is correct, then each marking will be one inch.

Here's the same ruler, centered on the cheeks. According to these Incredibly Scientific Calculations, everyone's cake is 14 inches wide and 7 inches tall. Perfectly rectangular.

If we spin em around, we can see that everyone has a standard Dumper Depth of about 2 inches.

And. since I know someone will ask, no, Wyll does not get a new ass upon demonification.

Now, I see you Holy Rolan Empire. I see the Gortfuckers. I see the Raphaelites. You are NOT exempt. Because guess what.

THEY ALSO HAVE THE SAME ASS.

Now before everyone comes at me in the comments, I'm pretty sure this is just a case of BRUTAL video game efficiency. The game's already 130 GB. They need to save on resources wherever they can. In an ideal world, Gale wouldn't have abs, Gortash would have love handles, and everyone would have custom-sculpted derrieres. But unfortunately we live in a timeline where computer hard drives are finite.

I bring this up not to de-legitimize anyone's choice of husbando, but so that we can move past the ass wars and move onto more important discussions. Like whether gnome tavs can canonically turn into mind flayers.

#bg3 #bg3 memes #bg3 render #blender #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 gortash #bg3 raphael #bg3 rolan #bg3 wyll

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kamotecue · 1 year

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finally found ∞ j. fleming

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

summary: everyone has a soulmate, it’s their destined half. you wondered when you’ll find yours, considering everyone in your family already had found theirs. aussie!reader

you ever heard of the word soulmate? most people think it’s someone you’re destined to be with—they aren’t wrong. however, there are two types of soulmates, a platonic one and one that’s romantically.

some are either fated with a platonic soulmate, or a romantic one. you’d be able to tell through the tattoo that was marked on your skin. whether it was designed with a heart, signifying a romantic one—or an arrow, for platonic one. yet your soulmate tattoo had been linked with a heart, there was also a football signaling your soulmate’s hobby.

but they aren’t just your other half—they’re the one person in the world that would know you better than anyone else. a soulmate is someone that inspires you, to become a better person.

the one that would love you unconditionally, who accepts you for who you are—and the one you’ll carry with you forever.

despite being the middle child of the family, you were the only one who hadn’t met their soulmate. and every family reunion you’re parents would remind you of that.

but you’re only 21, you had focused on university—studying in a prestigious school like stanford. you had graduated from your major, which was architecture.

you heard someone clear their thoughts as your head snapped up, looking at steph—one of your team’s captain. concern was held in her eyes, as you had tied your laces swiftly.

“nervous, l/n?” steph asked, as you had stood up—the eyes of your teammates had made their way to you, as you shrugged.

“just got lost in my thoughts, cap.” you commented as she hummed, giving you a soft nod.

“focus, yeah? we need one of our best strikers after all.” you gave her a nod, as you were handed the trainer jacket, you were confirmed to be part of the starting eleven.

but you had noticed something after the national anthem had ended—you weren’t wearing it.

“your gloves, n/n. don’t you usually wear them?” emily had asked, as your eyes widened.

“i must’ve forgotten it in the locker room.” you commented as the starting line up began to shake hands with the other players. everything was going smoothly, until your hand grazed hers.

the soulmate mark had glowed, as you came to cover it—quickly putting your hand around your left wrist. jessie had hummed before continuing, but you knew a teammate of yours had caught that.

“found her then?” kyra teased, as you softly glared at the midfielder who laughed at your expression. the whole team looked at the duo in confusion, as you cleared your throat, wanting to focus on the game.

the game had started, hayley was the only one that managed to score in the first half—two beautiful goals at that. but now that it was half time, you had simply took a breather.

“will you talk to her?” kyra swung her arm around you as you had entered the tunnel, not knowing how a certain canadian looked at the action.

“after the game, i’d like to focus.” you said, as kyra gave you a nod, removing her arm only to tap you on the back.

the whole half time break, the team was listening to the coach’s tactics as they had also focused on getting hydrated.

but when you stepped on the pitch again, a certain person with freckles noticed how you wore the gloves. the black gloves suited you perfectly, covering your wrist as the glowing mark was hidden underneath.

canada had managed to slip a goal past macca in the 52nd minute. it was fleming who had scored, despite there only being one goal to differentiate the game—you wore a soft smile on your face.

you might be against each other, but it was your soulmate after all. as she celebrated with her teammates, she had turned to look at you—she noticed how soft the smile looked, how adoration was seen in your eyes, making a soft smile go on hers.

as you had made a quick tap on the ball in the 58th minute, you were tackled by chloe lacasse who had managed to clip your ankle.

the land was a bit awkward, as your wrist managed to break your fall—but a pop was heard, making you groan.

kyra was the first one to be beside you when the whistle had blew, she knelt at your side as you held your wrist in pain.

“let me see.” the physio said as they analyzed your wrist, you had grimaced in pain as they did their job.

“looks bad.” kyra said, as you didn’t even look at your wrist. you instead focused on her jersey—being injured was something you hated.

“stop commenting on how bad it looks, ky. i thought you’re supposed to be comforting me!” she laughed at your distress, giving you a small hum.

“alright, seems like you’ll be subbed off. mary would be taking your place.” she commented as she took note of mary who was waiting to enter the field. you had missed how the canadian midfielder looked at you in concern, on the sideline their captain sinclair looked at you with interest.

how could she not? it wasn’t normal that someone had caught jessie’s eyes. you were escorted off the field as the crowd had clapped for you, mary tapped your shoulder as you painfully hummed.

you were sitting at the bench, a cast was worn around your left wrist—the game was coming to a close and canada hadn’t scored another point. but the dreams of the canadian team were shattered as they were unable to catch up, the whistle had blew as your teammates ran on the field—you just sat there in disbelief.

“won’t you join them?” the kit man had commented, as you hummed, contemplating it.

“i will.” you had walked onto the field, hugging your team one by one as kyra had wrapped her arms around your waist bringing you up.

“kyra!” you nudged her with your good hand as she chuckled before putting you down. you had saved jessie last, she gave you a soft smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“i suppose we would talk later, yeah?” jessie said, as you gave her a nod. strawberry kisses was playing in the background, as the team made their way around the pitch, doing a lap as usual.

you watched as jessie’s family held her in their arms, a sad smile made its way to your face. you were contemplating on going there, or not—but a soft smile was shown on jessie’s mother, she had gestured for you to come closer.

as you stood beside her, you noticed how jessie’s eyes were a bit red. but that didn’t matter, as she went into your arms. you rarely might have talked to each other, but she wanted your hug.

“jessie’s soulmate then?” her mother asked, as you gave her a timid nod. you were shy, not to mention she is one of your soulmate’s parents.

“although we’re a bit sad at the game, welcome to the family.” she said, as you gave her a small smile before thanking her.

“just met my family, yet you’re already in their good books.” she teased, as you chuckled feeling a bit shy. which was not normal as you were one of the out-going ones in the australian team.

“could i perhaps have your jersey?” jessie’s sister, elysse had asked shyly as you gave her a small nod.

“i need a bit of help though.” you said, looking at your cast as jessie hummed.

“i’ll help you.” jessie said, you raised your arms as jessie had tugged at it, managing to sneak a peek at your exposed stomach.

“would you want it signed?” you asked, as she gave you a shy nod. a fellow fan had handed you a pen as you used your right hand to sign the cast.

“here you go.” you said, as jessie had passed her sister the signed jersey. you knew your teammates would tease you, as they had watched the interaction.

you gave her a cheeky grin, before you bid goodbye. she understood as she had her own duties, media duties which is what she dreaded.

yet that was your happily ever after, you had spent the night talking to her—rather than joining your teammates. but it was worth it—the teasing the team would give you.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #canwnt x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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queenendless · 5 months

Text

Chase (Darth Vader x Fem!Adult!Reader)

A/n: Tales of the Empire gave me ideas. Particularly on a snowy chilly planet ... it's a very open setting as to what is going on in this so bare with me. First time writing SW stuff on here.

So AU with unburnt Vader who's also kinda OOC in this, some fluff and steamy romance with some Anakin at the end, but it's a short ass piece cause of short notice for today.

PLEASE DONT REPOST, EDIT, COPY, PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE AND OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. RATHER IF YOU DO ENJOY IT THEN LIKE REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME PLS N THNX.

And May The 4th be with you.

Your cloak blew from the chilly winds.

Your hood covered head raised up to meet at the top of the snowy hill.

Climbing up with the darkening gray storm clouds piling up, heighting the anxious tension filling you up inside, the helmeted figure coming into view struck through your core.

He had pursued after your wandering lost self.

You wanted to see how far he would go, as selfish as that was.

Your fear of the cold blooded, brutal Sith Lord becomes mingled with how you are lustful of his imposing presence.

Your cape fluttered in the blowing cold winds as you hurried away, straight to the ice cave entrance.

He knew you thrive off the chase.

And you knew he was relentless in playing along.

“You cannot run forever, Y/n."

His deep modulated voice bounced off the towering crystal ice walls, using the light shining from the high cracked ceiling to guide you.

“I've come this far.” Your tepid sweet voice echoing back at him had him growling a bit.

“You cannot hide from me.”

You didn't need to be Force sensitive to feel that he was honing in on you quickly.

Your flushed nervous face met your eyes as your bumpy reflection followed your side, his heavy footsteps sounding that much closer. “Doing good so far, all things considered.”

You should have figured uttering those words into existence would jinx your ongoing streak. The moment you stepped back from the dead end and spun around on your heel, you bumped into that armored chest.

You screamed a bit as his leather black gloves grabbed your forearms and pinned you to the wall gently but firmly.

His red lenses hid his eyes boring into your very soul, his giant frame enveloping you, pressing you carefully against the alien texture. His heavy breathing made your breathing go silent like a scared mouse, caught by the big bad beast.

“The game is over.” For some reason, he sounded so smug about it.

“You're unbelievable.” You pouted up at that obsidian face.

“You're foolish.” He scoffed.

“Says the man wearing the robot suit.”

The fact that he released his grip on you and leaned back a bit to actually take off that intimidating helmet still took your breath away.

“It helps with the image.” To hear that warm enriching amused voice again already had you giggling as your hands cupped his sculpted cheeks to pull his face down to peck those tempting lips.

His helmet clanked along the ground as his arms slithered around your waist to lift you off the ground, grinning slyly to you hugging his waist in response.

“It's working, my Lord.” You shakily spoke, weaving through that shoulder length darkened hair to tug him closer, pecking many a time quite desperately.

“This little ploy of yours has gotten us completely off track.” His husky tone was sheer evidence that he did not give a damn. Not one bit.

“Forgive me, Lord Vader, for my teasing.”

You squeaked as those giant leather hands of his cupped and squeezed your ass.

“I shall have to punish you, my dear. Quite thoroughly~” Those blue eyes were riddled with devious intention, marking your neck with ferocious bites along your delectable skin.

Your fevered gasps and lecherous cries traveled the caves as you became a mess under his wet steamy mouth. “A – Ani~!”

The former Jedi turned Sith Lord smirked, devouring your mouth with that needy tongue of his.

“Hush, my love. We're just getting started.”

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yutarot · 2 months

Text

deal or no deal (mark lee smau)

6) “i like you.” (written chapter) 888w

- game day -

“technically, me going to the game with mingi means you have to get some sharpie on that forehead.” you yell to mark in the other room, probably panicking to get ready considering it was 7pm and the game starts at 8. the routine of bangs which follow by a pained hiss confirm your thoughts.

“you okay in there mark?” natty shares your laughter as mark curses at you both from the doorway.

finally coming through the door in his green and black basketball jersey, mark stumbles across the kitchen of the boys’ frat house, house keys twirling round his finger. “technically, you and mingi aren’t even going on a date, let alone is he your boyfriend, just wait till i score a 3 pointer tonight.” he’s smug. you hate it.

“you won’t.” you reply but he only winks at you, heading outside to the minivan where chenle and the rest of the team are waiting.

once you make it to the SKU campus, you feel nothing but a pang of nerves cascading across your chest, nerves that have nothing to do with the result of the game.

“you can drop me here,” you call to jeno, who was driving, “mingi said he’d meet me outside, thanks jen.”

you wave goodbye to natty, jeno and donghyuck, straightening down your hair and wondering what is causing you to be so nervous meeting a man you’d known for over a year.

that was until, you saw his face infront of you.

“hey.”

never in your life had you experienced anything as awkward as this moment. wishing the band or anyone was with you.

“so, uh, you wanna take our seats?” you ask and he nods, not saying a single word until you enter the stands.

“you look really nice, yn.”

what.

whaaaaaaaat.

“what?”

he laughs a laugh u wish you will never witness again in your lifetime unless your with him, you nearly melt in your seat. “i said you look really nice.” he’s still laughing but you don’t find anything funny right now. you want to go home, back to the dorm with natty and julie where you can squeal to your hearts desire. instead, you have to hold yourself back, sufficing with a quick ‘thank you’ and turning your head back to the game as the cheerleaders run onto court.

you spot julie in her uniform, giving her a wave and giggling as she smiles back.

you forget completely about the man beside you.

“you’re friends with julie?” he asks. brows furrowing.

“yeah, she’s my roommate. why?”

“nothing.”

weird.

you soon realise you hadn’t messaged mark or chenle to wish them luck on the game. pulling out your phone, you find the groupchat , sending them a text and shoving your phone back into your pocket; hands clammy and shaking. you were so nervous.

throughout the game, mingi had said nothing but a few comments, occasionally criticising the play or yelling out chants everytime NCU scored. you couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited you in the first place, his sudden lack of disrespect towards you baffling and without reason.

that was until half time.

as you return to your seat from a quick bathroom break, mingi turns to you, eyes set on your own.

“look yn, i need to talk to you.”

you nod in reply.

“what’s going on between you and mark?”

you’re confused. is he asking if you’re dating? you and mark get that alot but from him… he has no reason to ask that.

“we’re just friends. why?”

“i like you.”

oh.

it’s sudden, unexpected.

he didn’t hesitate.

you’re stuck in place, eyes unable to drift to his, mouth unable to close.

he’s everything you’ve ever wanted. lead guitarist of your college band, second most popular guy on campus (after jeno of course), and here he was telling you the three words you’d been waiting and waiting to hear.

and yet all you can think about is how you will win that stupid bet.

“you don’t have to reply, not yet.” he continues, “i just want you to know.”

your mind draws back to the practice you had in mingis garage where you first played your new solo, it was then. that was when his attitude changed. that was when he started liking you. only, you struggled to understand why.

after the game, you waved goodbye to mingi as you clambered back into the car with jeno, hyuck and natty, mark and chenle joining you after their win against SKU. if you were being honest, you weren’t watching the second half of the game, mind fixated on the three words mingi had told you. the three words that would be running in your mind over and over and over and-

“yn?” mark calls out from the seat next to you, a look of worry plastered on his face. why is he worried? he should be ecstatic right now? “you okay? you haven’t said a word.”

“oh sorry, im fine.”

mark knows you, and he knows you are in fact, not fine. but he dismisses it anyway, keeping a reminder to himself to ask you later.

the drive back to the house is loud and embodies the atmosphere of party, crammed somewhat illegally in the back of jenos car, the boys singing chants and natty cheering alongside them.

you should be happy, but your not.

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@therealbobbyshloby

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humornaut · 1 year

Note

Hey, @basil-daisy here.

I just wanted to drop by because there's something that has been eating my insides for a long time and I can't get it out of my head.

I wanna talk about the scenes in Black Space, more precisely the scenes in the Church of Something, both the Sunny route and Omori route, although the Omori route one was really the one that made me think.

Have you ever thought about how the scene where Omori finally finds and "saves" Basil in the Omori route feels strangely like... A wedding?

It's not only the bridal style way Omori catches Basil. It's the way Basil lightly complains about Omori being late, the way they stop as Omori gives Basil his flower crown back and how directly after the act is interrupted by Stranger, who objects the whole "thing". A spectacle a bunch of "guests" witness.

I was always really curious about the church symbolism. For example the way Basil is stuck at the top of the church. I've tried really hard not to think about what usually is in the same place in churches because that comparison is making me die inside, even if it weirdly makes sense (Basil died for your sins U^U).

Besides that we have Sunny's interesting relationship with religion. Mainly that he probably feels insanely guilty. He feels judged by all the religious statues, moreover the snow angels, which are also one of my favourites, don't need to have the game tell us Omori feels judged by them. You feel it just by looking at their eyes.

The fact that Basil is in a church of all places is so telling too. Besides masses churches are known for holding weddings and, well, funerals. And in case of Faraway town's church is has a graveyard right behind it, where Mari lies.

I wonder if the scene in the Omori route is supposed to feel like a wedding but also double as a funeral (considering it marks the end of Stranger and his admittance of defeat that is actually a premonition of Basil's death in real life). It's one of the few scenes between routes that changes drastically and what it represents is absolutely fascinating.

What is really interesting also is that in the Sunny route the scene feels is completely different. It no longer feels like wedding. If anything it is just Basil begging for forgiveness, which does of course ties well with religion. But he's not begging for God's forgiveness, no, he's begging for his best friend's forgiveness.

I imagine this might be another way of showing us that Basil idolises Sunny as well as telling us that Basil feels really bad (what an understatement).

I also question if the Omori route scene is there to mirror the Sweetheart marriage scene somewhat, but I think I would need to dwell a bit more on that to come reach a proper conclusion.

Anyway, I hope you're having a lovely day! 💜

Wow, this is a really good ask! I'm going to break it down into a few different parts.

The Symbolism of the Church of Something

I think you are right on the money in how things go down in the Church of Something in the Omori route. The entire scene does almost play out as a wedding! Not just as a marriage to Headspace Basil, but as a final marriage to Headspace in general. After Sunny moves, whether or not he ever finds out about the fate of the real Basil, he has wholly become Omori. Stranger's objection does represent the last vestige of Sunny's mind trying to stop him from doing this; after all, saving the real Basil is the only loose end that Sunny really feels a responsibility for in a way that he can fix. He may want to see his other friends again, but he doesn't feel guilty for not doing so, because he feels he doesn't deserve it. Basil's a different story, because he knows he did Basil wrong for the selfish reason of protecting himself from his past.

To deepen the significance of this "wedding to Headspace Basil, and with it, a marriage to the concept of Headspace itself", I also want to point out that there is an implication that the end of Black Space in the Sunny route is not an end to the loop of Headspace, which won't happen until Sunny decides to shatter the light bulb on the next night. There is Stranger dialogue in the hub area that makes clear that killing the Basil that has seen the truth in Red Space is something that usually happens, and when you go there, you can find multiple of Basil's bodies littering the area. Instead, it's the Omori route that "breaks the loop of Headspace", via Stranger choosing to attack Sunny for abandoning Basil and the others.

That's not even mentioning the things that happen after this in the Omori route.

The flower crown that Headspace Basil gives to Sunny in the last Headspace Night in the Omori route provides twice as much HEART as the next best charm in that department (with those charms being the the Pretty Bow, a charm tied to Aubrey, and the Tulip Hairstick, a charm tied to Omori). The use of the word "precious" is also used in the Sunny route, in the description for Basil's Photo Album:

All three of these charms are only accessible in the Omori route, as well. The Pretty Bow item is only receivable after defeating Abbi, and is explicitly described as "too flashy for your taste".

Finally, so long as we are talking about weddings in Headspace, there is another thing that we would be remiss not to talk about. To go along with your mention of the Snow Angels (who have another interesting connection that I will go over later), the charm that you get from completing this area is the Wedding Ring.

As I've mentioned before, there are three different charms that allow the wearer to start happy, and they generally have fairly romantic connotations. First is the daisy, which both you and I understand is likely tied to Basil, but also has a romantic connotation due to the context of being a reward for assisting a character acquire a gift for their crush.

The second is one that I would also tie to Basil.

The Heart String is such an interesting little item, and the way it is tied to Basil isn't as immediately obvious as the Daisy. First off, this item is really easy to miss. You have to grab it during the chase section within Humphrey, and you can't go back to grab it afterwards to get it. There is also another item in the same area: the Blender weapon for Hero. This item immediately sets off alarm bells in my head, because smoothies (the only snacks in the list that are made in a blender) are snacks that are pretty clearly tied to Basil. Why make these two items into two of the only completely miss-able items in the game? And it doesn't evade my notice that shortly before Humphrey, where you find these charms, you have the Branch Coral, who makes another connection to Basil using the romantic image of a string.

Finally, the wedding ring is tied to Basil in another way, and that is what's going on in the area that you find it. Obviously, there is a negative association between Headspace Basil and the cold/snow, but there's also the fact that the ascent up Snowglobe Mountain is reminiscent of the leadup to the Church of Something in general, with the stairs and the snow. And regarding the Snow Angels, aside from the religious connotations behind them, there is another neat association. Take a look:

this was pointed out by someone in a discord server that I am in, and I unfortunately do not remember who at this point. Let me know if you see this and want credit!

I would argue that this similarity was intentional, as an older version of the game had White Egret Orchids looking much different, though I can't find a beta picture of Basil's house at this exact moment. These Snow Angels serve much the same purpose as Stranger in this route: being embodiments of Sunny's guilt for abandoning Basil and refusing to take responsibility for his sins. This takes place on the final night before Sunny moves, the same night that the real Basil chooses to end his own life. These are his final thoughts following Sunny into his dreams (whether you take this as literal or figurative).

One last thought on Basil in the Omori route before moving on: the Basil Rush, and how it’s the most explicit the game ever gets about how Sunny imagines his Basil's closeness.

Like, oh my goodness. The TAG photos didn't even need to exist, but they were put in anyway! And a little detail that goes unnoticed a lot, is that the hand-holding TAG photo is one in which Omori has initiated it! I think part of the tragedy of the Omori route is that it is most player's second playthrough (if they ever play it at all) and it is when the idea of Sunny and Basil having romantic feelings for each other starts being implied way heavier than before. Congrats! You got some heavy romantic subtext between the two boys. One of them is dead in the real world because you didn't save him.

Moving on!

The Religious Connotations of Headspace Basil

You didn't want to go into it very heavily, but I will: among other things, Sunny's dreamworld has turned Headspace Basil into a Christ-like figure.

Of course, there is his position in the Church of Something, but that's not all. He constantly wears a Flower Crown (crown of thorns, anyone?). In fact, Omori has to give Basil the Flower Crown back in the very first Black Space area, the Watermelon Area, seemingly as a preface for what's going to be happening with Headspace Basil throughout that portion of the game.

Look at what he says during the hide and seek game:

There's also the fact that in the Sunny route, we are looking at a game that takes place over three days and three nights after Basil disappears from Headspace, which I'm sure I don't have to point out the significance of.

This is a connotation that Sunny is making himself. Basil did not choose to take on Sunny's sins in real life, he expected that they would always be together. It was Sunny that decided to throw the responsibility of both of their sins on Basil, by choosing to forget. Basil will literally die for Sunny's sins in the real world.

Which brings us to the Flower Crown that Basil gifts to Omori after being rescued. Whether Sunny knows it or not, Basil has decided to end his own suffering in the real world. By gifting the flower crown to Omori, Headspace Basil has symbolically indicated that the situation has been reversed. Basil is no longer suffering for Sunny's sins, but Sunny is about to start suffering for Basil's. We are told numerous times throughout the game that Headspace is on its last legs. It's running out of places to hide the truth. We see Black Space leaking through almost everywhere, and the Basil Rush ends in a direct reminder of the day of the incident.

All that is to say, Headspace is seemingly going to fail, and soon. Black Space has grown too strong. If you ask me, it's only a matter of time until news of the real Basil's death has reached Sunny in the real world, and that will be the tipping point. From there on, assuming Sunny even decides to go on after that point, he will be living with the same weight that Basil did for those four years after Sunny left him, and there won't be anyone to save him.

The Sunny Route and Sweetheart's Castle

Finally, you mentioned how the scene goes in the Sunny Route. It should be noted, right after Stranger merges with the version of Basil there is the first time in the entire game that a version of Basil in Sunny's head refers to Sunny exclusively as his best friend, and from that point on, we will see that repeated in Sunny's mind. The room that Omori and Basil fall into prior to Red Space is one that we will see during the truth sequence, but it also appears in the Omori route, in a manner that we should discuss, as it ties into what you said about Sweetheart's Castle being connected. After all, the room that Omori and Basil falls into is the same room that Sweetheart's Castle turns into once you accept the Keeper of the Castle's deal, as I noted in my post about Sweetheart's Castle previously.

Sweetheart herself represents Sunny; both in his quest for presenting a perfect version of himself and his broken understanding of love, both of others and himself. Spaceboy represents the more "Omori" part of him; someone claiming to be above his emotions, but ultimately ruled by them. He even changes his name while he is in a relationship with Sweetheart. From this interpretation, we can extrapolate that their wedding in the castle is a representation of the Omori route's ending, right down to ending up on Snowglobe Mountain.

I also want to point out what happens right after this. You don't immediately just jump on down to the Lost Library. You try to leave, but right before you exit the area, you get the cutscene showing Stranger on the stage, leading you into the hole, meaning you literally need to walk down the aisle of an area explicitly designed for a wedding to follow Stranger into the Lost Library.

Whether or not you interpret Sunny and Basil as having romantic feelings for each other, this seems very symbolic of the fact that accepting and following Stranger (who I have previously described as the individual in which Basil's love of Sunny resides, be it romantic or platonic) is how you get to the truth. It's as if Sweetheart and Spaceboy's wedding represented the ending of Black Space in the Omori route, while what happens right after represents the ending of Black Space in the Sunny route. And like most of the ways Sunny remembers aspects of his history, the library is tied to Basil. Where the real Basil would provide books for Sunny to read, Stranger leads him to an entire library filled with books depicting his memories, both good and bad.

I hope you found all this interesting! I haven't really gotten the chance to talk about these things before, since I haven't really found the motivation to talk about them in their own post before! I hope you have a wonderful day as well! Time to go back to packing for my flight tomorrow!

#omori #omori analysis #omori spoilers #omori basil #omori sunny #omori sunflower #sunnflower #sunflower omori #omori stranger #black space #church of something #sweetheart's castle #snowglobe mountain #snow angels #what's going on with headspace basil is so interesting and i could talk about it for ages

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writingjourney · 1 year

Text

bound by lace | cardinal copia x f!reader

summary: after mercilessly teasing you at papa’s birthday dinner, the cardinal can't have you sneaking away from him.

content: 2.8k words, f!reader, dom!cardinal, panty-sniffing, public boners, (semi) public sex, spanking, gagging, mild degradation, praise, rough sex, white suit copia, he’s a bit of a pervert here, they're established, 18+ MDNI

This is what happens when @leezlelatch tells me to write a "short" warmup drabble – I spend two days writing purely self-indulgent filth. You should also check out her fic!

Masterlist – Ao3 link

By now you’re certain that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You’ve been watching the Cardinal for a few minutes now as he’s palming himself under the table, a black-gloved hand massaging his cock that’s trapped by the tight fabric of his white suit. He can’t take his eyes off of you, his head turned into your direction to make sure you know exactly what or who he’s thinking about.

You regret that you let him have a say in the seating arrangements. The round tables have been spread out in the courtyard to allow enough space for Papa’s private circle to celebrate his birthday with an opulent outdoor dinner party. As Papa’s personal assistant it would be considered impertinent of you to disappear from the party until dinner is officially over and he knows it. His own position allows the Cardinal a seat at the table with Papa himself whom he entertains from time to time but does not seem to actually listen to. The way your seats are angled gives you a prime view of the Cardinal’s lap – and his stiff cock.

No one else is privy to his actions, distracted by rosemary-marinated steaks and casual conversation. You, however, have been shifting in your seat ever since he started his performance. After not having seen him all day you’ve been plagued by indecent thoughts about his body. He’s been ignoring all of your desperate texts – only to show up in the tight white suit that he knows has your brain shutting down on sight. It’s a game for him, really, and with every flick of his wrist, his smirk only grows wider.

Conversation at your own table flows easily. Instead of participating you’re trying to grind at the edge of the chair for at least some friction, rubbing your thighs together as inconspicuously as possible. The Cardinal’s brows pull together when he sees this, his hand tightly gripping his erection, giving you a little show as he pushes his hips into his hand. You fight the urge to moan at the sight, wriggling on your chair until by accident your panties catch, slipping down your hips by just an inch.

You shift again and again until the fabric fully slides down your ass. Hidden by the white tablecloth, you hike up your skirts, then pull your already dripping underwear down and bunch it up in your fist. When he turns his head to observe your miserable hip-wiggles again, you risk throwing the lacy bundle in his direction from under the table. They land right next to his white leather shoe, the wet patch resting on its pointy tip where anyone could see them if they knew what to look for. His gaze drops down and at the realisation of what exactly you gifted him his eyes widen. Two can play this game, Cardinal.

You watch with a suppressed giggle as he drops his napkin with a loud whoops and picks it up, hooking his gloved pinkie into your panties. Hidden behind the heavy white fabric that is stained with black lipstick marks he brings them to his face, stopping right underneath his beautiful straight nose. Your eyes widen as he pretends to clean his mouth, taking a deep breath through your underwear that has his chest rising and falling heavily in his tight suit. He catches your eyes just after his exhale and grins at your shocked expression. While he brings the napkin back to rest beside his empty plate, the panties fall into his lap. You can see his hard cock twitching at the contact, straining the unforgiving material of his pants in a way that looks more painful the harder he gets.

You hear a deep cough and look back to his face, his smirk pulling the corners of his mouth up to emphasise the delicious blush that has now spread over his freckled cheeks. He’s so very handsome, so very aware of his effect on you. Almost sensually, he trails his fingers from his belly down to his groin, hiding the panties in his hand and rubbing them over his cock. His eyes close for a moment, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh as he drags them over his bulge again and again. When he finally pushes them into his pocket, they leave a wet stain running along the seam of his crotch.

It’s enough. You can’t keep sitting here watching him while you drip into your dress. Fleeing the scene seems safe – he would not dare to stand up now, showing a whole table of Papas and Sister what’s going on in his pants. As soon as his attention leaves you momentarily, you slip away with an excuse to use the bathroom. For a few seconds you hurry down the cool hallways, the skirt of your dress billowing behind you and allowing a gentle breeze to caress your inner thighs. You have to stop and think to locate the nearest bathroom, but you’re not even close when you hear rapid footsteps behind you, flat heels clicking familiarly on old stone tiles.

You don’t even have enough time to turn around before he’s pulling you into his chest, stifling your surprised scream with his gloved hand. His erection is poking into your ass and he rolls his hips against you, practically humping you from behind.

“You think you can run away after this little show, rattino?” he murmurs. “Leave me sitting there in pain while you sneak away to steal your pleasure from me?”

You can’t help but moan against his fingers. With his arm slung around your waist, he drags you a few steps down the hall, his fingers on your mouth now sliding between your lips and pressing down on your tongue. Impatiently, he pushes you into an alcove that houses an expensive bronze statue based on the Lupa Capitolina. Only instead of a she-wolf the metal was molded into a three-headed hellhound nursing her puppies.

When you start to suck on his fingers, desperate for his attention now, he immediately pulls them out and tuts. “You don’t get to taste me, rattino, not even the leather on my hands.”

His tone draws a pathetic whimper from your mouth. The Cardinal has no mercy. With one hand digging into the meat of your hips, he holds you in place before you can feel the fingers of his other hand sprawling out on your back. For a moment he gently caresses your spine but then he suddenly pushes, bending you over the statue while grinding his hips into yours. You both moan at the feeling, the sound reverberating in the hallway at an alarming volume.

“They’re going to come looking for us,” you whisper. “Please, can we go somewhere else?”

“No no no, I won’t let you run again. You better be quiet, sorella, I know how loud you can get.” You can feel his hand moving between your bodies, fiddling with his pants. “So naughty, throwing your underwear at your Cardinal, teasing him like this in front of our Papa. You were not worried anyone would notice then, no? Did you want to embarrass me?”

You shake your head and rest your warm cheek on the cool metal of the statue.

“Words, rattino, or I will leave you bent over here for the rest of the night.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “No, Cardinal, I did not want to embarrass you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm, you are, eh?” He starts to rut again, his hard cock rubbing against your ass cheeks through the soft fabric of your dress. “Tell me why you did it, dolcezza, and maybe I will reward you for your courage.”

“I wanted to tease you back,” you admit. “Seeing you so hard for me was torture. You tortured me with your tight suit and your– your cock.”

He chuckles at your silly outburst. “You are not very patient, amore. Do you not trust me to take care of you in due time?”

“I need you. I needed you all day.”

He gives a melodic hum as he runs his hand from your back down to your ass, hiking your skirts up until you can feel the cool air against your bare cheeks. “That is a good reason, dolcezza. I will allow it for today.”

His sudden need to converse with you is slowly driving you insane. You push back into him, trying to get him to move, but all he does is grip your hips as tight as he can while his other hand rains down on your butt in a hard slap. The impact echoes loudly in the hollow alcove and you yelp, holding onto the neck of the hound to avoid sliding off its back.

“Ah, I did not say there would be no punishment.”

“’s too loud,” you whine.

“You’re right, I think I should fill that big mouth of yours, rattino.” He chuckles deviously. “And lucky for me you gave me the perfect thing.”

He pulls away to the point where you can’t feel him anymore and lose him in your peripheral vision. But before you can complain he roughly shoves your panties into your mouth. You can feel the cold wet patch against your tongue, the fabric quickly soaking up your spit.

“You know what our sign is, amore, yes?” he asks softly. You dutifully tap your fingers against the metal of the statue three times. “Brava ragazza. Now I will not hear another sound from you until you have received your punishment, okie dokie? I think five more will do.”

You nod and he gently runs his gloved hand over your ass, caressing the spot he just hit.

“You already had numero uno and since your mouth is ugh… occupied… this time I will count them for you, yes?” He gives you one more soft caress and then his hand comes down again, lower this time, the sound barely muffled by the leather of his gloves. It doesn’t hurt as much as his bare hands and yet you feel the sting so clearly that you bite into your makeshift gag. “Due.”

After this, he switches hands, his weaker left palm meeting your ass with slightly less force. Despite being in a more sequestered area of the abbey, you fell incredibly exposed and it only adds to the wild cocktail of pleasure and pain.

“Tre.”

A short break in which he soothes your skin with the soft leather. He gives you no warning before he strikes you two times in quick succession and you fight off a whimper by biting harder into the fabric in your mouth. No sounds, he’d said. He rewards you with an appreciative hum.

“Quattro e cinque.” Again, he soothes your skin, using his other hand to tickle your thigh. “You are doing so good, dolcezza, such a good little rat for your Cardinal. Just one more now.”

For the last one, he uses his right hand again. It’s the heaviest blow, aimed so low that you can feel the impact in your throbbing cunt as you slide further up the statue.

“Sei.”

You exhale through your nose and close your eyes, revelling in the burning sensation of your skin and the pleasure that’s pooling into your core.

“You know, this color is even more beautiful than your blush when I rubbed your panties over my cock,” the Cardinal says behind you with a chuckle and then you feel his lips on your ass. He presses a few gentle kisses to your abused skin, soothing with his tongue. His mouth travels all the way up to your lower back until he’s stopped by your dress. “Are you ready for me now, dolcezza? You are dripping all over your thighs.”

You whimper desperately at his words. He’s been avoiding your pussy on purpose but now you can feel his finger probing at your slick entrance, spreading out your arousal. A soft hum of relief leaves you at the contact, the sound of his zipper filling your ears like a choir of angels singing their heavenly praise.

He wastes no more time, slowly easing himself into your drenched cunt. After the long wait, the stretch feels so good that your eyelids flutter closed. For all his teasing, he must have been on edge as well because once he bottoms out, a strangled groan bubbles from his chest and his fingers dig into your hips with a bruising intensity.

“So good,” he whispers. “So f-fucking good, amore. Cazzo.”

And then he starts to move. The first thrust sends you flying halfway across the statue and you wrap your arms around its belly, chafing your finger on one of the edges. The Cardinal doesn’t stop, just pulls your hips back and slams himself into you again. You keen, muffled by the gag, but in your ears the pathetic noises you release and your skin slapping together resound so loudly that you’re sure the whole abbey can hear. He proceeds to roughly fuck into you with no regards for volume, the angle just right so he hits you where you need him. With all the pent-up desire for him you approach your climax fast and hard and you stop caring as you try to hold yourself steady as best as you can.

You’re right at the precipice, dangling so close to the edge when the Cardinal suddenly stops. It’s only then that you hear the clattering of heeled footsteps in the distance. You can almost see Sister yelling at you, the most embarrassing images flashing before your eyes, but with every passing second the sounds fade out more and more. You immediately push yourself back, wriggling as much as you can from your cramped position to get him to hurry up.

“Shhhhh.” He slowly rocks into you again, dragging the tip of his cock along your sensitive walls. “We will not rush this, dolcezza, no. I want you to feel every bit of it.”

Carefully, his speed picks back up, insistent hips rolling against your ass until he rediscovers his previous rhythm. With your moans stifled by your panties, the only outlet for your growing pleasure is your tight grip on the statue’s tits. The Cardinal must be close as well because soon he falters, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he clumsily slides his hand down to fumble with your clit. It’s all you need to fall. When you come, pleasure spreads over your body like liquid fire. You clench tightly around him and with a strangled moan he spills into you, twitching and shivering into his last few strokes.

For a moment, you stay exactly like that, stuck in the quiet afterglow with only your laboured breathing as evidence. The Cardinal lets you recuperate briefly after he pulls out, his hands soothing the skin of your hips that he gripped so tightly at the height of his pleasure.

“You did so well, amore, so well. Your Cardinal is so proud of you,” he whispers when he leans down to remove the panties from your mouth. “You are okay? Not too much?”

With your eyes still closed, you hum happily and rest your forehead against the cool metal, wetting your dry lips. He lets the fabric of your dress slide back over your tender backside and you whimper at the delicious pain. As you open your eyes to see him moving into your peripheral vision, he gives you an apologetic smile that you can’t help but return.

“We should go back, amore,” he finally says, tucking his softening dick back into his still wet pants. “I think they will be serving dessert soon and I really want the strawberry cake.”

“I don’t know if I can sit anymore,” you mumble, righting yourself on shaky knees. You can feel his seed dripping out of you immediately. He won’t give you the panties to clean yourself but pushes them back into his pocket.

“Maybe you have to sit on my lap for the rest of the evening,” he says, gently kissing your temple as he pulls you close. “Or kneel under my table hehe.”

You playfully push against his chest. “You know Papa hates it when we do PDA. He says we’re obnoxious.”

“Well, I hate it when he sits on my desk and messes up my papers and he does it all the time anyway.”

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, brushes a strand of hair from your eyes. Up close you see all of his flushed, freckled face, his black eye make-up smudged into sweaty streaks. You wipe at his messed up lipstick but all he does is lean in to press a soft kiss to your lips. Finally tasting him is all the reward you need and you sigh, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue is gentle as it greets yours and when he breaks away, he smiles at you more fondly than ever.

“You know, we could steal some of the cake from the kitchens and just dip…” you propose, pressing a few kisses along his jaw.

His smile widens. “You always have the best ideas, amore.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #copia fic #copia x female reader #copia smut #cardinal copia smut #mdni

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 3 months

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what are your thoughts on the olympians’ thrones? we know that they are connected to the power of the gods, and that kronos’ tactic was to destroy olympus/their thrones in order to weaken them (so when kronos destroyed the arm rest of ares’ throne, did that weaken him during the battle with typhon?)

but why should the destruction of their thrones weaken them? isn’t the source of their power, their divinity, well, themselves? and what of minor gods? or what about during the first titanomachy? sorry for the lengthy question but it’s all very confusing and im interested in hearing your take.

THE OLYMPIAN THRONES

first let's see what Dionysus had to say about this in The Last Olympian

"Whichever! Now listen, the situation is graver than you imagine. If Olympus falls, not only will the gods fade, but everything that is connected to our legacy will also begin to unravel. The very fabric of your puny little civilization—"

"Yes, yes. Your entire society will dissolve. Perhaps not right away, but mark my words, the chaos of the Titans will mean the end of Western civilization. Art, law, wine tastings, music, video games, silk shirts, black velvet paintings—all the things that make life worth living will disappear!"

"—the other gods would never admit this, but we actually need you mortals to rescue Olympus. You see, we are manifestations of your culture. If you don't care enough to save Olympus yourselves—"

Let's look at the third part first! Dionysus tells us that the gods are manifestations of human culture. And as we know, in the RRverse, the gods have moved around with the flame of progression, where the most human power is allocated. This is why they are in the US in the RRverse, and why they tend to reflect a more American culture (ie, Zeus in a CEO suit, Poseidon as a fisherman, Ares is a biker, ect.)

So what I'm getting from Dionysus's explanation here, is that the gods and human culture are intrinsically intertwined with each other. You can't have one without the other and all that. If human culture fades, the gods weaken, and if the gods weaken, human culture fades.

Something interesting to note here is that Dionysus says that the gods will fade if their thrones are destroyed...interesting, considering Dionysus and Percy also discuss how Pan faded.

But Pan didn't fade because of a lack of human belief/culture - he faded because his domain was being destroyed. Helios and Selene faded because they lost faith in themselves.

I think Dionysus might be overexaggerating a bit here. I don't think the gods would have necessarily faded if their thrones were destroyed- just significantly weakened. And perhaps, weak enough that if they ever just decided to give up...they would fade.

(Which brings up an interesting notion of Dionysus fearing them fading, because maybe that implies he thinks not all of them have the willpower to push through that...food for thought)

Kronos destroying Ares's arm rest is curious, since after the defeat of Typhon, we see the Olympian gods and nothing is out of the ordinary, even with Ares. So I'm guessing the arm rest getting cut off didn't exactly affect Ares, but if a larger piece of the throne or even the throne itself was sliced up? We'd have a different story.

I believe the source of the gods' power comes from a variety of places- mortal belief, their thrones, and belief in themselves. We see the latter occurring with Apollo in The Tower of Nero especially, where he's able to bring himself back into immortality on his own willpower, and I think we even see this happening with Hades and Poseidon, leaving their respected realms to come to the aid of Olympus and leaving behind their grudge (Hades) and ego (Poseidon) for the greater good.

This brings up an interesting idea, then. The Olympians have three main sources of power. But are they even aware of the third?

Because think about it. People, in series and out, have automatically assumed Helios and Selene faded because of a lack of mortal belief. But, that is not what happened, for they were still majorly worshipped- instead, it was a lack of faith in themselves. They lost their sense of self.

So I think the "power ranking" of these sources go as follows;

Belief in self

Mortal belief

Thrones

Mortal belief is often talked about, especially in ToA where Nero tells us mortals gave him a prolonged life and eventually immortality. He does not have a throne like the Olympians, though he does have a fasces, where his immortality is stored.

Could it be that the Olympian's immortality is stored in their thrones? Maybe. But remember, Nero is a wannabe god. There has to be drawbacks to that, and I bet the fasces was one of them. He has to contain his immortality in something, while the Olympians do not, because they are immortal. Full stop.

Now minor gods...this is a bit trickier, but I think minor gods have a power scaling of their own. The Olympians are on another level for godly power- they are The Squad so to speak.

How powerful minor gods are I think depends on their domain, as well as mortal belief/their own belief.

Hecate, for example, is probably exceptionally powerful for a minor goddess because of her position as the goddess of magic, the Mist, and crossroads among other things (did you know she has some influence over prophecy? ;3 she and Apollo were two sides of the same coin when it came to prophecy).

Iris is probably not as powerful as Hecate is, because, uh, rainbows aren't exactly powerful when it comes to magic XD

As for the Elder Olympians' power during the Titanomachy...that's also interesting to think about. Imo, I think their power grew over the time of the war, since they didn't really have the opportunity to fine-tune anything what with being in Kronos's stomach and all lol

Zeus probably got more practice in when he was young, but probably not as much when he became cupbearer. And I also think the symbols of power of the Big Three help channel their power- which now has a funny image because here are the guys learning how to focus their power with training wheels while the girls are just fucking around and finding out.

Demeter probably strangled a few people with her plants. Hera probably unleased a hoard of peacocks on someone. Hestia no doubt set a few things on fire.

lmao, that's funny to think about.

Anyway, finally got around to this one!!! :D

#the oracle speaks #anon ask #asked and answered #the trials of apollo #ramblings of an oracle #trials of apollo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo dionysus #pjo apollo #toa apollo #pjo zeus #pjo poseidon #pjo hades #pjo demeter #pjo hera #pjo hestia #the last olympian

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