#guest battle royale

[transkeyleth]

[Image Description: a pencil sketch from the guest battle royale episode of critical role that shows tova holding her bloody battle axe over a slightly bloodied very teary sprigg. there is a huge arrow that says 'guilt.' poking into tova's forehead. End Description]

O m g

[xmencovered]

Infinity War Vol 1 #2 / Published: May 26, 1992 / Artist: Ron Lim

[beedreamscape]

Who would've thought Sam's Battle Royale would be the most wholesome thing with almost no deaths!?

But I know that in some parallel universe, FCG is watching horrified at the robot/automaton violence.

[gremlingottoosilly]

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.” 

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being. 

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king. 

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him. 

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them. 

Then he got lonely. 

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least. 

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl. 

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving. 

— I didn’t ask for the tea. 

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly. 

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say. 

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention. 

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then. 

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant. 

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks. 

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least. 

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear. 

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war. 

— You’re flattering me, sir. 

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth. 

— If you say so. 

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself. 

— Why you work as a servant? 

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now. 

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it. 

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv? 

— I…have damage, sir. 

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have. 

— What is it? 

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years. 

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard. 

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can. 

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of. 

— Doin’ a good job, love. 

— I hope so, sir. 

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god. 

— You don’t smell me, then? 

— I don’t smell anything, my lord. 

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him. 

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell. 

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him. 

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him. 

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago. 

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help. 

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you, 

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters. 

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight. 

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned. 

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Royal Consort? 🥺🥺

The worst part about knowing there was danger on the way was acting like everything was fine. Danny found it very annoying that instead of going through the guests individually to find the key for the invading forces, he had to dance with his future self.

Danny was pulled into a fast-paced Viennese Waltz by his future self. (He would call him Phantom since it was easier in his mind. No way could Future him have the right to be a Danny when he came dressed like King Phantom)

The two dazzled everyone by their skill. It was one of the few things Princess Dora could beat into his head when Danny had been crowned. Shockingly, Pointdexter was the ghost that took his mediocre skills and sharpened them to a level that Danny had once considered competing with.

Danny considered Pointdexter one of the best dancers to ever live. This was one reason his classmates were so cruel.

The two became fast friends after he defeated Pariah Dark, especially when Danny stumbled over the ghost version of Casper High. It seemed Pointdexter's soul was trapped in his old torment, and his classmates—the real ones from life—were still bothering him after their mirror fight.

Danny beat the 1950s teenagers and freed Pointdexter, finally removing him from his bullies. He had the teen relocate to the King's castle as his Lair Manager, where he was tasked with caretaking Pariah Dark's castle.

This, unfortunately, was done after Danny had taken the Royal Consort necklace, so his lair manager was not able to stop him from wearing it. It did make sense now why Pointdexter mentioned more than once that he was "rather vain to love yourself that much, Dano".

He just thought it was weird 50s lingo.

Phantom couldn't be that far into the future—not if they still looked so much alike—the only difference was that he was an inch or two shorter. If anything, he would guess this Danny Fenton, in all his Kingly attire, was a year or two from the current day.

He wanted all the information Phantom could give him, but sadly, the other was just as in the dark of tonight's events. The only real clue they had was what Phantom experienced.

Sometime around midnight, someone would activate the key—a rectangular tool with a loud boom when it was turned on. The tool tore apart Wayne Manor as it blew the roof away, and the invading forces were teleported to Earth.

It quickly overran Gotham, even with the Bats arriving almost instantaneously, and the aliens made quick work of the rest of the world. The Justice League responded quickly, too, and soon, it was an all-out war with planet Earth as the battlefield.

Millions of lives were lost in the battle that first night. Batman was killed around 2 a.m., followed by Superman—who was helping hold off the main mother ship—at 5 a.m. The Justice League put up their best effort, but it soon became clear they were outmatched.

The following months saw humans scrambling to fight while countries were destroyed one by one. Their armies conquered, their heroes fell in battle, and the humans were either enslaved or killed. It seemed Earth had earned a reputation in faraway galaxies.

Humans or anyone from Earth were deemed exotic pets. The aliens had come to poach them.

They had blocked all communication with Earth's allies, including the Green Lantern Corp and New Genesis, not wanting anyone to interfere with their hunt. They also decided that the resources from Earth were of enough quality to take over the planet and rip it apart to sell to the highest bidder.

The aliens came in never-ending waves no matter how many Earthlings managed to kill, forcing humanity to flee underground.

In only a short while, Earth was picked clean.

In a low, anger-coated voice, Phantom said he had just finished a mission to rescue humans from a breeding center. He had helped them escape to Ghost Zone, which had become one of the few forces keeping humans safe. His army had torn apart the galaxies to find the stolen humans when Clockwork offered him a chance to fix everything.

Danny wanted to ask so much more, but with the gala attendees watching their every move, they figured they should discuss it less, even in Ghost Dialect.

Phantom had pulled Danny into a secluded location to hiss his explanation, but it was only a few minutes before Tim Drake Wayne found them. Danny wasn't sure why, but the other teen seemed determined to speak to Phantom.

It didn't help the Waynes that Phantom already suspected them and was very hostile whenever Tim opened his mouth. If the Waynes were innocent, that could lead to a problem later, but for now, Danny could only glare at Tim.

Phantom said that the person who turned it on had stuck the rectangular device to Jazz's back, using her body as a gateway. That meant someone in this crowd would approach his sister to turn her into a sacrificial lamb.

King Phantom had already warned her—under the disguise of dancing with her to honor Danny's family. He had even danced with his parents and one with Dani—but Jazz had insisted on staying. She theorized that if she left the gala early with Dani, as Phantom had wanted, someone else would become the gateway.

The aliens would attack no matter what, and removing her would take away concrete information.

Danny and Phantom did not like it, but both agreed with her logic. They didn't even know who had betrayed humanity- whether it was voluntary.

It was barely nine-twenty. The suspense was killing Danny.

"Mind if I cut in?" A silky voice fills the air, tearing Danny away from his anxious thoughts. Danny turns to find a woman standing at their side. She is gorgeous and holds herself in a way that lets the world know she is aware of this fact.

She leans over slightly so her cleavage is on display, resting an arm on Phantom's shoulder. Her smirk sharpens when Phantom's eyes drop to her hand as he lets his hold on Danny slip.

Her smugness quickly shatters when Phantom's face clouds over in rage at the hold she has of him.

Phantom reaches up to fling her hand away. His voice overlaps with thousands of others, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone who hears it. "Don't touch me."

Danny gapes alongside the woman as Phantom twists around and waltzes them away.

"Dude, what was that?"

"We don't have time for her or anyone who wants to replace you as my husband," Phantom hisses, though his expression remains ever so loving as he swings them about. Danny matches him step by step, ignoring the gaping crowd. "The Waynes are watching us, and half the venue has asked Jazz for a dance. Dani even more so."

The two glance toward Dani, who is in an equally fast-paced Viennese Waltz with Damian Wayne. She seems to be purposely stepping on his feet. There is a line of young, influential boys waiting for their turn.

It seems they all believe this is a chance to get married to the princess of the dead. It seemed half the Gotham elites believed Phantom would go for an arranged marriage for his daughter.

Fools them.

"We still have hours before midnight. Dancing with or talking to other people would be a good idea, so try to find the key," Danny whispers to him. "You've only danced with me since you arrived. I know it's for your King Phantom image, but we can't-"

Tim Drake Wayne slides up next to them, dancing with the air and keeping pace with their movement. Both halfas blink as Wayne smiles at them brightly, looking at ease for someone acting so ridiculous. "Hello again."

Danny and Phantom keep dancing, and Danny replies with a confused hesitation. "Hey....what are you doing?"

" Nothing much! Just...ugh love this song. Couldn't find a partner so-"

"Dance with Phantom," Danny is quick to say, ignoring the way Phantom's eyes start to glow. He is done with pretending there isn't a problem. He will find that key with or without future him's help.

He pulls himself away- ignoring the hiss growing in the back of Phantom's throat. He didn't know he could do that- and tugs the alarmed-looking human into the King's arms.

"Darling." Phantom's voice is low in warning. Knowing the crowd is still watching even more openly now, Danny turns his nose up.

"I'm tired, Phantom. Dance with Wayne here since you couldn't keep your eyes off him!"

He storms away, ignoring Wayne's choked "King Phantom, I am so sorry for causing this misunderstanding. I swear I am not trying to upset the Consort or come between you two."

He disappears into the crowd that part for him, pretending to be so blinded by jealous rage that he does not notice the way he is going. Danny finds a hallway out of the gala and goes into Wayne Manor.

Now then. Danny thinks Let's see what the Waynes are hiding.

Meanwhile, Bruce drags a hand down his face, watching King Phantom's face twist as Tim babbles before him. "I told him not to upset the King."

[stardustizuku]

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.

[espace--positif]

Avowal // a Sylus x f!Reader medieval AU fic

Summary: King Sylus never tires of watching his most loyal knight fight. That is, until he tires of just watching and decides to test himself against your blade. WC: ~2.4k Content tags: Medieval AU, King!Sylus, F!Knight!Reader, swordfighting/sparring, sexual tension, praise, mild sub/dom themes

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

King Sylus never tires of watching you fight.

The sounds of metal clashing against metal stir the audience that fills the tournament grounds to the brim, cheers and roars traveling through the stands as heated battle unfolds before them. From the vantage point granted to him by the shaded royal box, Sylus calmly watches as you avoid your enemy’s relentless blows, sometimes redirecting and sometimes dodging, all the while being slowly but surely pushed to the edge of the arena. His guest of honor, the rambunctious monarch of one of the few remaining independent kingdoms in the Grasslands, sits besides him and punctuates the exchange of blows with unprompted commentary. Praises of the hulking knight who relentlessly advances on you fall on Sylus’s deaf ears, your distant form the only target of his attention.

It is the third day of tournaments held to inaugurate negotiations with said monarch, negotiations which Sylus has no doubt will end in his favor. And so the tournaments and festivities are nothing more than a formality. That, and a wondrous excuse to send you forth to joust in his name, to joyously watch you obliterate would-be champions.

The loudmouthed monarch applauds and cheers as his chosen knight applies more pressure on you. Your opponent is large, almost twice your size, and the greatsword he brandishes with heavy arms would certainly be cause for concern for any knight lesser than you. But Sylus does not worry, for he’s seen you dance this dance countless times before. Before long, your back is nearly touching the edge of the railing that delineates the arena. The rambunctious monarch whoops, and Sylus watches in silent anticipation. The presence of his not-so-honored guest is easily forgotten as he tunes out the monarch’s raucous cheers, focused only on you.

This is his favorite part.

In a swift motion, you pivot on one foot and duck under your opponent, swiftly avoiding what would have been a decisive strike. Off-balance and off-guard, the man fails to compensate for your movement in time, and you’re behind him before he can react. Your swift arms carry your sword into your opponent’s ribs in a powerful strike, and you follow through with a fervor that draws a contented hum from Sylus’s lips. The man comes crashing down in a heap of plate and mail, breaking through the fencing, and the crowd gasps, some letting out pained hisses at the sight of the dent you’ve left in his thick armor.

As expected, the giant’s raw power was no match for your calculated dominance of the field, each movement of your beautiful dance a deliberate choice made to move your opponent exactly where you wanted him, when you wanted him. All the while leading him to believe he had the upper hand.

Sylus doesn’t just love to watch you fight, he’s exhilarated by it.

“I don’t believe it!” bellows his guest, wine spilling on silk robes as he thrashes about in disbelief.

“I warned you not to underestimate her,” Sylus replies with a smirk that’s equal parts smugness and pride.

You sheathe your sword as you effortlessly stride to face the royal box while your large opponent clambers up and unceremoniously waddles behind you, struggling to catch up. You both offer deep bows at the box — your opponent’s gesture tainted with shame as he nurses his likely bruised rib, and yours brimming with tension.

Yet another part of you he never tires of glimpsing.

As captain of his personal guard, you are his most trusted knight. You’ve fought for him for as long as he cares to remember, representing his kingdom, defending his life, slaying dozens and injuring hundreds in his name. Each time, after the deed is done, you inevitably look to him, your tender eyes measuring his reaction, awaiting his approval. And each time, he gives it to you. How can he not, when you look so beautiful, draped in the scarlet colors of his kingdom, in his colors? When the lamellar feathers that line your gauntlets and greaves strike fear in all who would oppose you, for they know you would cut them down at the snap of his finger? When the crest of the crow on your breast, golds and reds and blacks shining brightly under warm sunlight, serves as a daily reminder of how deeply beholden you are to him?

Today, a playfulness in him, no doubt engendered by the swelling pride he feels at your victory, tempts him to delay this little ritual of yours. He simply settles deeper into his seat, long legs sprawled out, and rests his chin onto his palm as you raise your head. Even from beneath the visor of your helm, he can sense your nervous impatience. The crowd roars for you, but you pay them no mind. You remove your helm with urgency, beaded braids falling freely down your shoulders, sunkissed skin glistening under the warm daylight, and he finally meets your gaze. It’s filled with anticipation and loyalty and eagerness and adoration, and that’s all it takes to draw an inevitable smile from his lips. He nods, offering slow, tender claps that are just for you. Relief fills your eyes, and you return a subdued smile, beaming with a light that only he can see.

—

The ceremonies have come to a close, and you’ve finally been relieved of your post after diligently standing guard beside the king well into the late evening, never leaving his side throughout the festivities and beginnings of negotiations — just as he personally requested of you. Even when your relief arrived in the form of the night garrison, you looked at Sylus for quiet confirmation, and he gave you the slightest nod as he continued his conversation.

You now busy yourself with your favored method of decompression after tournament days such as these. Tucked within the confines of the makeshift armory — a spacious tent where your settlement’s arms are laid out — you inspect weapons, sharpen blades, and polish pommels, surrounded by nothing but quietude, steel, and dim torchlight.

The sound of the tent’s flap shuffling pulls you from the task of buffing out a chip in the blade of a longsword, and you’re greeted by none other than King Sylus himself, the last person you expected to walk into your little patch of solitude.

“There you are,” he says in that low voice of his that always settles pleasantly in your chest.

You immediately straighten, planting the tip of the sword you’ve been working on into the ground with both hands.

“Your Majesty,” you say, offering a small but courteous bow.

“You fought beautifully today,” he says with a warm smile as you raise your head. A flush creeps up your cheeks, and you hope that it is too dark for him to see it.

“Thank you, Sire.”

Sylus absently toys with one of the swords you’ve just finished maintenance on, running the edge of his thumb across the sharp blade.

“I would spar with you myself,” he says suddenly.

“I’m certain you would make a formidable opponent.”

“Then let us find out.”

You freeze. “Now?”

“Now.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have suitable armor for you to wear here,” you reply, looking around. You know your armory well, and you’re certain that none of the standard armor will fit his tall, muscular form. “Perhaps—”

“I’ve no need for armor.”

“Sire, I couldn’t possibly fight you without adequate protection. It’s too dangerous.” You stare incredulously at his bare chest — he wears nothing but what is perhaps the least protective belted leather sash you’ve ever seen and fine leather trousers, leaving him less than battle-ready. For a king, he’s never been one for gaudy robes nor ostentatious armor, leaving very little to the imagination as he flaunts a chiseled chest and firm arms that could’ve been sculpted by the gods themselves.

“And if I ordered you to?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you realize your eyes are still lingering on his chest, torchlight dancing on the soft curves and hard edges of his muscles. You make no effort to look away.

“If you ordered me to, then I would of course oblige,” you smirk, emboldened by the intimacy of the setting and by the smile that already adorns Sylus’s face. “I suppose it’s a good thing you haven’t done that yet.”

It’s hardly the first time he’s loosened up when alone in your presence, and you like to think that he can be more than the indomitable king, more than the unyielding conqueror, more… himself, whenever he's away from the prying eyes of the kingdom. So you indulge and let him indulge in the playful informality that has become commonplace between you on such occasions.

He hums in mock contemplation. “Then I’m ordering you to.”

You study his face, trying to discern how serious he is. When his curved lips settle into a line and his eyes narrow at your lack of response, you breathe out a small sigh that you hope he doesn’t notice and acquiesce. “At once, then.”

You toss the polishing cloth aside and Sylus assumes a relaxed position a few feet away from you, sword still in hand.

He motions towards your helm, which sits forgotten on a stool at the back of the tent. “Aren’t you missing something?”

“It’s only fair that I match the stakes you’ve put down, Sire,” you answer in a low voice, trying to quell the all-so-familiar embers of anticipation that ignite within you. It isn’t an unfamiliar feeling, especially when you find yourself before battle, but this time is remarkably different. This time, Sylus won’t simply be watching — he’ll be at the receiving end of your sword. The thought causes smoldering butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“En garde.” You point your sword at him, and he mirrors your motion, lips cocked in a half-smile

Without another word, you initiate the dance.

Your movements are careful and measured, each of your strikes relenting when you feel the tension between your blades threaten to falter in your favor, a tension that would normally spur your muscles to exert more pressure and vie for that final blow.

But you aren’t the only one holding back. Sylus remains defensive, his every strike nothing but a careful response to your own aggression. Even when you misstep, the tip of your sabaton catching on an uneven patch of dirt, your thrust falling short and leaving a gaping opening at your side, he does not move to take the opportunity.

A mixture of the tension building within you – tension you’re unable to channel into your sword lest you injure the king himself – and drumming anger at the fact that he might be toying with you pushes you to a limit you didn’t know you had. Your expression darkens, and you gradually stop easing up at the tail end of your strikes. Sylus’s amused grin does nothing but fan the flames that rouse you. Here you are, teetering on the edge of insubordination by daring to strike so harshly at the king, and here he is, letting you have your way with him. How far will he truly let you go before he earnestly fights back?

He wants you to find out, and you won’t disappoint.

A sudden charge of your plated shoulder knocks Sylus off balance, and you follow up with a deft upward cut. His move to block is a bit too slow, and he catches the full force of your ascending swing. For a moment, your eyes interlock just long enough for you to catch his own widening with surprise. With a resonating clang, your blades clash, and this time you follow through, only stopping when the king is sprawled on the ground, his sword thudding in the soft dirt. You tower over him, your cold steel tickling at the bare skin of his chest as you glide the tip of your sword downwards ever so softly. The sight of him under your grasp, pristine silver locks all disheveled, eyes narrowing at your audacity while his lips curl with approval, stirs something unholy within your depths.

“Yield,” you breathe, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

His voice is soft and breathy, gravelly tones traveling through your ears and sending tingles dancing on the surface of your skin. “I yield.”

“Louder,” you push, and his grin widens, revealing sharp canines. Your fingers tighten around your sword’s grip, an involuntary response. The sharp blade draws a single, glistening droplet of blood from his bare chest.

A glint of something unrecognizable, primal and predatory, flashes across the deep reds of his eyes, and you immediately know to pull away. But halfway through the movement, Sylus’s large hand curls around your sword arm, and before you can even register what happens, your back is hitting the ground, armor clashing harshly against the supple dirt. The impact draws a sharp gasp from your lips. You try to shift, but your movements are restricted by a heavy knee on your core, and your sword arm is rendered immobile by the firm grip of his hand on your wrist.

And now, it is his turn to tower over you, to hold you under his grasp. There’s a fiery intensity in his eyes, and you threaten to melt under the adulating grin he now bears.

“You did well.” The words burn all the way through you, leaving nothing but ashen desire in their wake. You shift fruitlessly under the weight of his body.

 “I lost,” you reply between uneven breaths. You lost, but you don’t seem to care right now.

“On the contrary. I yielded,” he says in a low whisper. “The fight is over, knight mine.”

He’s close enough that your breaths, erratic and laced with exertion, mingle together in the quiet of the tent. The world outside stills as you lose yourself in his presence, in the warm closeness of his body, silent devotion drawing you into the vermilion pools of his eyes.

Then, Sylus suddenly stands, finally freeing you. A strange emptiness replaces the pressure that his body was exerting on your own, and you can’t help but think of the look he gave you, right as you pushed him to the limit. A light shiver runs down your spine, an enticing mix of trepidation and anticipation. You wonder what it will take to see that look again.

He’s already at the tent’s entrance when you shuffle back to your feet, and you realize how deeply you’ve forgotten yourself throughout this… duel, if you can call it that. Quickly, you offer a small bow at his back, and blurt out, “It was an honor, Sire.”

“Come by my quarters later,” Sylus smiles over his shoulder. “You’ve a lot to teach me yet.”

My knight hyperfixation and my LADS hyperfixation have coalesced into this fic, and I really really really enjoyed writing it. It's inspired by a melting pot of the Grassland Romance card, the NDZ card, and some ASOIAF (which has been on my feed recently). In my head, this is a whole cinematic universe, so I might revisit with some more snippets if I have more ideas. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed ❣

[felassan]

Game Informer:

"Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show by Alex Van Aken on Jun 27, 2024 at 01:57 PM In this week's episode of The Game Informer Show, the crew discusses our recent trip to Bioware for our Dragon Age: The Veilguard cover story, our Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree review, PS5-bound multiplayer shooter, Concord, a new battle royale from former League of Legends developers, atmospheric horror title Still Wakes the Deep, Dustborn, Luigi's Mansion 2 HD and even more! It's a packed show, y'all.  Watch the Video Version: [embedded link to Game Informer video titled 'Dragon Age Cover Story And Shadow of the Erdtree Review | GI Show']"

(On YouTube, the description box for this video looked like this:)

[Article continues] "Follow us on social media: Alex Van Aken (@itsVanAken), Kyle Hilliard (@KyleMHilliard), Marcus Stewart (@MarcusStewart7), Wesley LeBlanc (@LeBlancWes) The Game Informer Show is a weekly gaming podcast covering the latest video game news, industry topics, exclusive reveals, and reviews. Join us every Thursday to chat about your favorite games – past and present – with Game Informer staff, developers, and special guests from around the industry. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast app. Matt Storm, the freelance audio editor for The Game Informer Show, edited this episode. Matt is an experienced podcast host and producer who's been speaking into a microphone for over a decade. You should listen to Matt's shows like the "Fun" And Games Podcast and Reignite, a BioWare-focused podcast."

"The Game Informer Show – Podcast Timestamps: 00:00:00 - Intro 00:02:42 - Cover Story: Dragon Age: The Veilguard 00:21:48 - Elden Ring Shadow of the Erdtree Review 00:42:20 - Concord Preview 00:59:04 - Supervive Preview 01:11:59 - The Plucky Squire 01:24:37 - Magic: The Gathering – Assassin's Creed 01:35:01 - Still Wakes the Deep 01:45:52 - Dustborn Preview 01:55:06 - Luigi's Mansion 2 HD Review 01:58:26 - Housekeeping"

"The GI Show podcast is a weekly recap of exciting releases, exclusive details on upcoming games, and in-depth interviews with developers. Watch or listen to a new episode every Thursday!"

[source]

----

Felassan's notes section of this post -

In this episode of the Game Informer show, Game Informer talk some more about their trip to BioWare's studio for the DA:TV cover story, when BioWare showed them hours of DA:TV content while playing it live.

Some notes from this and from what they said:

Wesley LeBlanc wasn't a huge DA fan and he went in with no expectations. The job to go to BW for this just landed on his plate due to other peoples' schedules. After seeing the game, it's probably his most anticipated game for the rest of the year and the one he's most looking forwards to

The game really wowed him and stuck with him, he said he is thrilled about it and is engrossed in the fantasy it's bringing

The visuals and world finally feel like what BioWare has maybe always wanted to make

This is the game where the team said, yeah, we feel fully in command of the Frostbite engine, and it shows

The world is more like Fable-type whimsy than prior DA games. It has a high fantasy feel

BW want new people to play the game. They're very aware that it's been 10 years since the last game and the game does a good job of catching people up

Rook as the PC really has no idea what's going on with Solas and all the other lore-specific stuff that's happening in the game, so they kind of act as the stand-in for newer players or people who have not caught up on the lore

But it's not just a game for newcomers, there is still a lot to chew on in the game for hardcore DA fans. BioWare were saying that they know their community, what it wants and what it's looking for out of these characters

Wesley enjoyed the music, visual design, and voice acting

Nothing that they saw about the game stood out as worrisome to him

Wesley has quite a lot of further stories to add to Game Informer's DA:TV hub

Wesley: "On the topic of the [Dragon Age] fanbase, I just wanna give a shoutout to that community, because, wow, I did not, I knew people would be stoked about this cover, but people are really stoked about this cover. And it’s really funny, the day that we announced it, I got like hundreds of new followers. Anytime, if I tweet about Erdtree or Destiny 2, I get like my normal amount of likes, like, a dozen maybe, y’know, whatever. If I tweet about Dragon Age, it’s like. Today I tweeted, ‘my next feature is coming at 3pm’ and it’s at 1000 likes, it’s so funny, like, this community is like rabid for information, which makes sense if you haven’t gotten a game in 10 years. But yeah, so like, shoutout to y’all, I’m loving you guys reading the articles and telling me what you wanna hear about. So if you have any questions or anything, get at me on Twitter for sure, and I will see what I can cook up with some writing for you. But yeah, shoutout to the BioWare community, y’all crazy.”

[source]

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Ch 2

Hello, Lovely people! I plan to expand the timeline for The Dance of the Dragons by adding more. This will provide insight into Benjicot's thoughts from the previous chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Keep up with the story: masterlist

He was gone; Davos, his brave twin, was gone. The stupid Brackens disrespected his brother and their land, and, in turn, his brother and father were lost. Davos was always the more outspoken and confident twin. Benjicot knew people thought he wasn’t fit to be Lord of House Blackwood. He seemed inclined to agree, but not for the reason others believed in. He was more reserved and quiet compared to Davos, the loud one. 

Benjicot was meant to be his brother's sworn protector. He thrived being out of the limelight and quietly doing his duty as a soldier willing to die for his brother, which he couldn’t even seem to do correctly. His job was to protect his lord, which he failed. Both his father and brother were dead, and it was all his fault. 

“My Lord…” echoed slowly louder and louder until Benjicot broke out of his guilt to his council member. 

The weary old council member looked tired from all the stress of the day, “My lord, we have finished moving the bodies to the great hall. We will begin the preparations for burials soon.” 

Benjicot nodded while following the older gentleman to the hall and seeing the masses of lost Blackwood members being mourned. In the very front lay both his father and twin. Davos was bloodied but wearing a final smirk on his face, which Benji thought was meant to be. If people needed to see Davos one last time, let it be his famous smirk he wore proudly as heir.  

Benji was worn out from the day’s events; he knew if it weren’t for how much he wept earlier in the field, he would still be crying like a babe. He had never wept this much before, not even when their mother passed. It felt like a knife was gouged in his chest, and he knew the reason was that his twin, his other half, was brutally taken from him, leaving him and his aunt to piece their house together. Speaking of his aunt, she also looked tired as she walked towards him with a letter that was brought from a raven. Where the raven came from, he cared not… not when he was too busy mourning and trying but failing to step up as the new lord of Raventree Hall. 

“Benji, news of the Battle of Burning Mill reached Dragonstone and Queen Rheanyra…” croaked his aunt, her voice raspy from yelling all day trying to keep the peace.

 As she continued, Benji was only half listening, which he knew should feel bad, but he couldn’t seem to care. His guilt was sneaking back onto him, but he was abruptly shaken once he heard his aunt say Princess and Dragon. 

“Wait, Dragon? What dragon?” he questioned his aunt and then lowered his gaze once his aunt glared at him for proving that he wasn’t listening to her earlier. 

Alysanne knew better than to hold it against her nephew, but dragons were coming, and they needed to do everything they could to best prepare for the Crown Princess's arrival the next day. 

“Queen Rhaenyra wants to express her condolences and gratitude by sending food and medical supplies with her daughter Princess Aemma on top of the princess’ dragon Sliverwing.  We must ensure our home accommodates a princess and her dragon.” Alysanne, weary, explained to her nephew that she had the same face as him. 

The last thing they needed was a Targaryen princess coming and demanding their attention rather than focusing on their dead. Still, they swore to the Black Faction and the royal family, so they must welcome the princess as an honored guest no matter how much they would come to dread it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Benjicot was a nervous wreck; the princess should be arriving soon, and he was trying to ease his mind but taking on task after task, funeral preparations, the princess's guest chambers, a clearing to house a dragon, storage to store all the supplies being brought. All of these seemed to pile on, and he didn’t have enough time to, as he heard a dragon's apparent dragon shrill and wings flap. He would not greet the princess. Instead, his lady aunt would take on the task while he stayed in the great hall, pretending to be busy. Rather than using all his energy to pretend to engage with a princess, he had no clue how to speak to the princess. 

Soon, the great hall doors were opened, and walked in a woman who knocked the wind out of his lungs. This woman had pale white curly hair that was pinned up in a simple braid reminiscent of those of the North. Her sunkissed skin glistened under her hair; she wore red and black riding leathers that seemed to have dragon scales on her shoulders, which hugged her body in all the right curves. But what took away his breath was her eyes and how she carried herself in the room. Her beautiful violet eyes held sorrow as she took in the great hall, not pity, but understanding. 

Benji studied her as she walked around the hall on her own, whispering condolences to the grieving families before she stopped and stared at one body, his twin Davos’s body. He stiffened before quickly but quietly walked towards her. The princess, he realized, before he paused once he saw her expression. The Princess looked on the verge of weeping while staring at his brother’s face. If he didn’t know any better, it would look like the princess was mourning her lover, but that was impossible as Davos and the princess never had the chance to meet. It confused Benji, but he heard her whisper Luke when it clicked on him. Prince Lucerys was the reason the realm started the war between greens and blacks. His uncle, Prince Aemond, killed Prince Lucerys. Looking upon Davos made the princess remember her sibling lost to a feud between two families. The princess understood him and his grief. At that point, he decided to be brave and let the princess know of his presence. 

“ Davos Blackwood, my princess.” Whispered Benji as he watched the princess jump, shaken, and then flush in embarrassment before she set her eyes on him. 

He then noticed how she subconsciously flinched when she looked at him, which he understood. He and his twin were identical to each other, so it can seem daunting to see one alive and the other dead. 

“That is Davos Blackwood… he... he was my twin brother.”  He explained and saw how the princess nodded with understanding, for she, too, had recently lost her brother. Before he could think of another sentence, the princess graced him with a small but dazzling smile as she spoke. 

“Lord Benjicot, my mother and I thank you for receiving me into your home, especially in this trying time; I wish to express sorrow for the loss of your father and twin brother.” 

Her voice was sweet, like a soft wind chime melodies that could melt even the strongest ice in the north. Benjicot himself returned a shy smile to the princess. 

“Thank you, my princess-”

“Aemma.” Stated the princess before continuing, “ You may call me Aemma, but I fear I will grow tired of hearing ‘my princess’ so much.” 

Benjicot stared at Princess Aemma for a second before noticing her certain witty charm, which made him feel more confident. He changed his smile to a smirk. 

“Very, Aemma. Thank you for your condolences. I ask you to call me Benji or Ben. It seems only fair,” he said, relishing in seeing her break into a bigger smile than before. 

There was a soothing pause as Benji, and the princess once again looked at the masses before he decided he needed to remove himself from the hall. Seeing his brother was still too much to bear. So he asked her if she would like to have a tour of the hall and castle grounds. She happily took his arm and wrapped it around as they walked away from prying eyes. Once out of the hall, Benji was greeted with a dragon’s shrill as the She-dragon seemed to glare at the young lord. He gulped as the princess laughed and ran to her dragon. 

As much as he knew better than to get close to a dragon, he was like a moth, following the light that Aemma seemed to release as she spoke High Valyrian in her soft-spoken voice to her dragon. She took his breath away for the second time. He had always heard Valyrians were considered higher to men and closer to gods. He never really believed it until now. This warrior goddess welcomed him to her and her dragon, a privilege only a few dared to indulge in. As he continued admiring her, Aemma turned to him, which made him flush, knowing she caught him staring at her. 

“Have you ever come into close contact with a dragon before?” quietly asked Aemma. 

Benjicot shook his head no, “ Never, my princes- um, Aemma.” He quickly caught himself as Aemma graced him with another laugh. He enjoyed hearing her laugh. 

“Would you like to? Come meet my Silverwing.” Aemma took hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her until her body flushed to his as she raised their intertwined hands to Sliverwing’s snout. 

 Benji’s cheeks could only grow more in heat, feeling the princess's body press onto his own. His body started to betray him, and he hoped she wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, the princess was too busy soothing her dragon because of his presence instead of seeing the effect she was having on him.  

“Shh, Sliverwing, Lykiri , sweet one, we mustn’t scare away our host.” Whispered the princess as she guided Benjicot’s hand to rub her snout. At the same time, she was using her other hand to soothe the dragon to be calm. 

In awe of touching a dragon, Benji asked, “What does that mean… lykiri? 

Again, Aemma giggled and turned more to him, their face mere inches away. 

“ It means to be calm or calm down. I must say how impressed I am with your bravery in being so close to a dragon, my lord.”  

Benjicot, in turn, winked at the princess before teasingly replied, “Only because I have the Realm’s Pearl guiding me, and I thought we agreed to skip our titles, my princess.” 

Benji then lowered his gaze to her lips, seemingly inviting. He could lean forward and take a kiss from her if he wanted. Oh, how much his mind told him to go for it. As he was about to indulge in his thoughts, a stern and short cough snapped him out of his thoughts and made him jump away from Princess Aemma and Silverwing. Benjicot could only grow cold; there was Princess Aemma, sworn knight Ser Lorent, glaring at the young lord; Benji felt like a dead man. His saving grace, His Aunt, called to him. This gave him the perfect excuse to leave the princess, promising her to see her later at the feast.

As he walked away towards his aunt, Benji could only internally groan, seeing the smirk his lady aunt was giving him. 

“It would seem the Princess is quite fond of you, my nephew,” teased Alysanne, delighting at seeing her nephew blush brighten even more. 

Benjicot glared at his aunt as they walked to the feast hall, ensuring everything was set. 

“The Princess is just being gracious. Why would she like some lowly lord, not even a lord paramount, when she is a crown princess?” stated Benji, reminding himself that as much as he was falling for her, he had no chance with her. 

Alysanne sighed, growing tired of her nephew's self-deprecation. “ A Dragon rider does not bring a random person close to their dragon just to be nice. She likes you, nephew. You should pursue her.” 

Benji cruelly laughed, “What do I bring to her in a marriage? Is our house that rich, or high in-” 

“Benjicot Blackwood!” angrily exclaimed Alysanne. “Our house is proud and ancient; we have one of the largest armies with great warriors like you that will support her mother in the war between Black and Greens. We are just as good as any Paramount House and better than those of House Hightower and House Bracken. You, my young lord, need to see the value of your position and our house.” explained Alysanne as she angrily walked away from her nephew. 

Benji sighed, knowing what his aunt said was true. He just couldn’t fathom how someone as beautiful as Aemma could consider him a potential husband. He decided his aunt was correct. He needed to bring out his confidence, which he could easily show in the training yard; he had to be like Davos so that people would start seeing him as a strong lord of Raventree Hall.

He walked to the chambers the princess was staying in and explained to the knight that he would escort her to the feast. Ser Lorent tried to intimidate the young lord again with a glare, only to receive a smirk that one can only describe as rabid. Chuckling at the new confidence, the Queensguard nodded before walking towards the feast hall, Leaving Benji to knock on the door and patiently wait for the princess to come out. 

As Aemma came out of her chamber, leaving Benji again to admire her beauty, switching her previous braid to many intricate braids in the style of Old Valyria dragon riders. He gave her a dazzling smirk that made him know it affected her from her flushed cheeks. As they walked in the hall, Benjicot noticed the stares, especially those from his men, which made an ugly monster of jealousy creep in. Of course, these were his men; he would not hold it against them and try to enjoy the feast, stealing glances at the princess. As he was about to strick a conversation, he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning, he saw his aunt with an annoyed face and a nervous council member asking him to speak with him. 

With a sigh, the young lord walked outside and waited for the conversation to start. None spoke for a while, making the Blackwood lord grow tiresome for wasting his time when his aunt said. 

“It is your concern, council member, not mine, and I will not be the one to express them to my nephew.” 

“What concerns?” asked Benjicot as he stared at the older man. 

“My Lord, many of us are concerned about your position as lord of Raventree Hall; many are stating that since you don't have an heir, House Blackwood is vulnerable to enemies.” The elder dropped his gaze to the floor, afraid to make eye contact. 

Benji was angrily taken aback. He had just taken his position, and already, his council saw weakness in his lordship.

“I understand my position, but it is hardly weak; I am the lord of House Blackwood, and if need be, my Aunt Alysanne is my heir. I do not need to marry so soon, especially if we are to join the queen to war!” Snared the new lord at the older gentleman.  

The older man sighed in annoyance, “ Yes, since we still follow the Old gods, there is nothing wrong with having Alysanne as your heir, but your position is not secured, my lord. Should you and your lady aunt perish, we risk losing our house to those craven Brackens. Being married will ensure your future wife carries your heir to secure the future of our house.” 

This only grew Benjicot more agitated, and replied angrily, “ I will not be a bargaining chip just to secure my house’s future, and I will not marry just to have my future wife feel like a broodmare.”  

Alysanne sighed, looking at both hotheaded men, and tried to intervene, “You and the princess seem to grow close. Why don’t you discuss with her any potential ladies she may have as her or her mother’s ladies-in-waiting? Therefore, you open up the discussion of marriage without feeling too drastic or rushed. While I remain as your heir?” 

Alysanne knew better than to ask her nephew to consider marriage to the princess again; remembering their earlier conversation would only annoy her nephew more. Eventually, both men agreed and decided that the conversation was done as they walked back to the feast room. After cooling down, Benjicot’s attention was returned to the Princess as her guard called for attention. 

Princess Aemma stood, holding a paper that Benji could only assume was the Queen’s letter to his people. As she looked around the room, her violet eyes stared and made eye contact with him. Under her composed face, he could see she was nervous, so he gave a slight smirk and a nod of encouragement. Her charm will win over his people just like she did with him. 

Exhaling, she opened her mother’s letter and began to read, “My good people of Raventree Hall, I thank you for welcoming my daughter, Crown Princess Aemma, into your home. As my heart grieves for the loss of Burning Mill, I want to express my gratitude for your honor and loyalty to me as your queen. My mind is at ease knowing I have such loyal subjects, and with your help, I know we can take back my birthright from the green false king. To show my gratitude, I have sent my daughter on her dragon to bring supplies and food to help replenish House Blackwood. With her dragon, she will lead and guard the able soldiers to Harrenhall, where Prince Daemon, the Knights of the Vale, and the men of the North will eagerly await you. You all have my utmost respect and gratitude, your Queen, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the realm.” 

Once Aemma finished, the entire feast hall stood and applauded the princess, including Benji and his aunt. He felt immensely proud of how regal and compassionate the Queen and princess sounded.  After a while, Aemma raised her hand and asked for the hall to quiet down, seeming not to be done addressing them. Intrigued, Benji sat down again to listen closely to what she needed to say. 

“I thank those here today for coming out and supporting my queen. My heart is filled with the warm welcome I have received here at Raventree Hall. To know such fierce and loyal people are willing to fight for my mother, your queen, fills my heart with gratitude-” 

Someone in the back stood up and cheered, “To Queen Rhaenyra and Her Crown Princess, The Realm’s Pearl Aemma Velayron!”  

Benji wanted to laugh; it seemed his people, even after centuries, still had northern tendencies and attitudes that seemed to come out when they held feasts. The Princess patiently let the crowd cheer again before asking for silence and continued. 

“I thank you all for your cheers. To show my gratitude for everything, I propose, should your Lord Blackwood accept, my hand for marriage to create a strong and secure alliance between Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, and House Blackwood.” 

Everything seemed to freeze, did he- did he hear correctly? Crown Princess Aemma Velayron has asked his hand in marriage… As Benji scanned the room, he saw everyone openly in shock. As he returned his gaze to his princess, he saw her getting nervous, waiting for his reaction. After a beat or two, he finally was able to process that, indeed, he was asked to be married. He decided to grace her with a heartwarming smile as he rose to meet her. Grabbing her hands into his, he stared into her violet eyes. He could get lost in them every day. He leaned down to kiss her hands as he gave her his answer for only her to hear. 

“It would be my honor to be your husband, my dear princess,” he whispered, feeling giddy seeing her gracing a smile that he knew was meant for him alone. He promised himself to be the one person to bring that smile out of her in their future marriage.

[transkeyleth]

[Image Description: a pencil sketch of a scene from the guest battle royale episode of critical role. the drawing shows sprigg swinging across the lava with a rope on kashaw's belt. kashaw is floating parallel to the lava, dead. End Description]

It became a platformer

[controld3vil]

black cat

pairing(s): kenshi, johnny, havik, kuai liang/scorpion x gn!reader (seperate) synopsis: you’re a thief — a riff raff amongst the scum of seido. yet somehow you’re on the wrong side of justice, serving outworld. notes: - out of my volition, this was inspired by batman and cat woman’s cute dynamic <3 - LIKE REMBER THAT SCENE… where selina touches bruce’s face ?!?! (from batman 2022!!)

KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> There were many things Kenshi expected from his visit to the Outworld. Meeting you was not one of them. From your first encounter, you captured his attention — as subtle and graceful as a feline, he would say, your presence startled him and the rest of his friends. “General Shao, how unwise of you to berate our guests at first notice!” Your lively manner relieves the suspense between Outworld’s militaria and Earthrealm’s protector. He could discern the disturbance from the man in question as General Shao crudely sneered. Liu Kang clears his throat and gives you a content nod. You are fast — he thinks, always swift to leeway into conversations that have gone bitter. Kenshi does not recall mention of you - but it didn't matter.

-> “This is none of your concern, ambassador,” Shao’s words were only meant for disdain and spite. You modestly give a lazy smile — like a Cheshire, not taking his insult seriously. “Oh, but my duties are to accompany Liu Kang’s champions. The Empress demands it.” Your indulgence prevails when the general fails to make another quip. In the crowd, Kenshi is impressed by your way of words. You were an intriguing person – he will give you that. But you did not seem a person particularly invested in politics. You were apathetic to your job. -> At dinner, you conveniently visit his table with a wine glass. Liu Kang seemingly welcomes you, taking the seat across from the swordsman. Conversations were comfortable with you. As a diplomatic envoy, you’re surprisingly judgemental - and not afraid to communicate the demands of other cities. Glimpses from the princesses as you proceed with a story about the rulers of Sun Do. Infuriating it was to comply with their city’s needs like a glorified servant. Kitana is quick to pick on your drunken pursuit and drag you to your quarters. By the time you left, Kenshi felt enamored by you and your stories. “They're quite the character.”   -> There were rumors about you he could not ignore. Everywhere in the palace were snakes, more willing to let him know of your past. They say you were once a thief, a lowly criminal in the capital. How you came to become the royal ambassador was appalling to others at court. You were born into the lowest class. And here in Edenia, it was deemed as dishonorable. You did not grow up with the same education or environmental conditions. It makes Kenshi question your motives for coming here. How did you end up at this high establishment? It was not from pity - he knew from that. Maybe you were a strong fighter. Who was stubborn and willing to do anything to achieve your goals.  -> Unbeknownst, as his interest in you escalated, you took notice of him. The swordsman with an unfortunate past, you held compassion for Kenshi. And as your relationship bloomed, your respect for each other was apparent. You both worked harmoniously together well. In unison with your devious yet insightful strategies and his keen and precise swordsmanship. You taught Kenshi the ins and outs of the city. Tried to teach him how to steal and work up to the market sellers to bid lower prices. You always kept him on his toes. And Kenshi loved that about you. To you, the ex-yakuza held you in check – of your duties. Although he enjoys your time fooling around together, it would put the swordsman much at ease if you took your job seriously. With the realm's tense position, he urges you to take control and compromise with the other cities for the coming battle. And hopefully, when the war is over, the two of you will reconcile your relationship and make it official. [ kenshi ]: how can i convince you to stop stealing? [ you ]: have you ever thought about asking nicely?

JOHNNY CAGE -> He’s the one to catch you first. Johnny had clear suspicions of you during the first night of the tournament. When you spoke with officials and the royal family, it was too noticeable to miss. You were hiding something - Johnny wanted to get to the bottom of it. He finds your kindness to the princesses overbearing. Because why would a constable be affiliated with the royal family more than themselves? And the movie star had to open his mouth at dinner, eyeing you down with an arched brow. -> “Uh Liu Kang, I don’t mean to be rude but,” Both your eyes make contact – he quickly reverts his view to the god in question, “I think that person’s kinda shady, don’t you think?” His remark makes the rest of the Earth’s champions freeze, and the tightness of the air becomes far too evident. Liu Kang pauses, setting his teacup down, and looks to where you stand. From the far corner, you were chatting with Li Mei, arms crossed. You were enjoying your discussion until you sensed Liu Kang’s stare to tilt your head and give a playful wave. The First Constable thought nothing of your actions, how accustomed she is to how you acted around Earthrealmers, always telling them outlandish lies about Outworld. And constantly pretending to commit some heinous crime against the royal family. Something you would never do. -> “Fear not, Johnny Cage. They are no threat.” The Fire God’s words relieved the tension in the air. As everyone’s shoulders relax, Johnny probes on. He knows what trouble looks like – his mother was a cop! However, Kenshi waves his bickering off and waves them off as dull excuses. Nothing to worry about? You could be doing something behind the Empress and Constable's back. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself that got his attention. Or the comments his mentor sarcastically made about the dangers of Outworld. It was unlike Johnny to feel this paranoid. He had to figure out who you were. -> The movie star believed that once he caught you in an act, it would prove to his friends and Liu Kang that he was right about you. When he, Kung Lao, and Kenshi snuck into Shang Tsung's laboratory, surprisingly not, you were there alongside Rain, Tanya, and Princess Mileana on a medical chair. Just when Shang Tsung slowly approached the princess with a syringe with Tarkart's blood, they attacked. The movie star willingly stepped in your direction as if he caught you red-handed. “I knew it! You were behind all of this!” -> Everything turned bitter when Kenshi lost his eyesight to Mileana’s outbreak. It leaves a foul taste in Johnny's mouth once the situation is to be the treatment for the princess’s prolonged illness. When the royal guards come, you turn to face the Earthrealmers. “Did you truly think I would go against the royal family?” There was a flash of fury to scorn. “You Earthrealmers know nothing about Outworld business.” Johnny could only accept his wrongdoings, face facing down to the floor in shame and guilt. While what Liu Kang suspected of Shang Tsung was true – his assumptions of you weren’t. And for that, the movie star genuinely feels like he has misjudged you entirely. -> It takes time for him to reconcile with you. Escaping from Shang Tsung’s laboratory with his friends, he doesn’t meet you again. But when Earthrealm compromises with Outworld, you reappear alongside Li Mei and the royal family. In a different light, you’re easy on the eyes. Johnny desperately tries to make it up to you, always finding ways to warm up to your bitterness. Though much like a cat, you’re persistent and glares in his direction. Soon after, he learns of your past and is suddenly guilt-ridden even more.

-> Your relationship is a slow and rocky one. The two of you did not see eye to eye at the start. Johnny was wary of you, and you only made it worse by indulging in it. You two were at odds with each other. However, Johnny was somehow smitten with you. You were cunning and sly in all the ways a constable shouldn’t be. It was one of the ways he got your attention – suggesting all kinds of schemes against his friends. Your past never bothered him. Stead, it’s something he’s proud of you for. “I mean, thief turned cop? Now that’s a story I can get behind.” It brings a sort of middle ground and closure to both of you. [  johnny ]: look i know i misjudged you pretty harshly, how can i make it up to you? [ you ]: you can start by loaning me some money.

HAVIK -> He longs for you. Havik is too cruel and adamant to tell you, but he misses you. Many years before you left Seido, you were happily thriving as a criminal. He recalls his younger years, you and him pillaging villages. Stealing all you can to survive in the cruel world they decided to reject you from. Back then, you were free – out of touch with humanity and the rest of the Outworld. You didn’t care for his plans to run Seido to the ground and bring chaos. You didn’t understand it – you were merely teenagers, children. -> Before long, you slipped out of Havik's hand. The life you two endured was not living. Every day, you struggle to find food and shelter to stay by. It did not help for your kleptomaniac habits, mugging passing citizens of whatever they had on. Eventually, it had caught up to you, Havik deciphers. Because why else would you leave him? Unlike him, you left clues for the military to track you. You loved the thrill of leading them to nowhere. -> But now, the thought of you brings turmoil into his heart. He sees you in the distance when Quan Chi is interrupted by a former ally. There you were, he stands almost in shock and petrification. Havik was furious. All he could focus on was the plan to allow time to release Quan Chi’s creation, Ermac. He never considered where you would be until now that you were on the opposite side of justice. Why? -> “How could you,” Your name runs down his tongue like a pack of needles. It’s difficult to pronounce your name after many years of separation. Whatever he felt for you was long diminished in the fire he created when he left Seido. “After so many years, this was where you were.” He didn’t expect less from you when you curtly accepted his words. Yes, you said – it’s so bitter against him. What happened to you? When did you become so weak against the hierarchy? Where were you when he set ablaze to the city and joined forces with Darius? -> “What we had would have never worked,” You say this truthfully, getting into a defensive position. It hurts - how easily you dismiss it. Havik never thought of himself as a sentimental man – but the thought of you returning to him was a constant in his mind. From days to years to his study of sorcery and alliance with Quan Chi, Havik has destroyed more cities than he can count. Leaving you was a blessing in disguise. Because of his misfortunes, Havik retained powers that could destroy civilization. It drove him mad. -> Even with you against him, he was more than willing to suggest an act of mercy – if you were inclined to break a few bones. [ havik ]: look how weak you've become. have you not forgotten where you came from? [ you ]: i remember it clearly. you are the one who has gone too far!

KUAI LIANG/SCORPION -> Kuai Liang met you more than once during his time in Outworld. He merely appears when Lord Liu Kang intends to be present with business with the Empress. Years prior, it was the Emperor. But with the reign of Sindel, peace and prosperity had become a failing occurrence between both realms. Outworld claims to be growing more powerful – to overpower Earthrealm for the upcoming tournament. It makes Kuai Liang question his integrity and place at the palace when the Fire God asks for his presence instead of his brother. Bi-Han is the grandmaster of Lin Kuei, “Shouldn’t Bi-Han be the better option to accompany you?” -> “I do not want to provoke the Empress,” Liu Kang explains, looking at him from the portal. The pyromancer had confidence in his protector, nodding. His plain response was all it took to understand the weight of their appearance in Outworld. Though Bi-Han would be the rightful companion, it is Kuai Liang – the younger and more compliant brother who could ease into any circumstance. But his nerves are jaded. Kuai Liang is nervous, not knowing what the occasion was for. There could be many reasons for their requested presence. Yet he could not think of one that involved Lin Kuei.  -> Scorpion’s mindset eases when you surprise him. Guests are presumably guided by the First Constable, Li Mei, to the courtyard leading to the royal palace. Your head pops out from a bush, smiling in all your glory. “Lord Liu Kang, what a pleasant surprise!” The fire user's heart pounces every time you do this. It would be wrong not to expect you to greet Outworld guests in such an unconventional manner. Your name comes easily to the Fire God, with a sense of familiarity. “How nice of you to see us first,” Even Liu Kang takes joy in you. Unlike the many faces of the royal court, you are much more tolerable and pleasant to converse with. Even Kuai Liang thinks highly of you. -> Nodding your hair flows in such an elegant way. The Empress dotted you – but your loyalties lay with General Shao. Your go-lucky personality was in defiance of your rank as a lieutenant general. Yes, Kuai Liang recalled the previous tournaments and how distant Lin Kuei was from the Outworld’s military. They do not see eye to eye in handling foreign threats and commoners. It is your chief's distaste for Earthrealm, always speaking out of malice. But you were not like General Shao or Reiko. You never showed hatred towards Lin Kuei or Earthrealm. -> Kuai Liang feels restful chatting with you. He sat in the conference room with the Fire God as the rest of the court minded their seats. In such a large establishment, it holds divinity and high status, not even Kuai Liang is used to. Empress Sindel, alongside General Shao, you and Reiko arrive and take your respective seats. You are a few seats left of him and warmly nod in Scorpion's direction. He flushes at how a casual gesture from you can incite him. -> Ordinarily, matters began. The pyromancer had no desire to speak amongst the crowd, only per Liu Kang’s permission. Yet, a disagreement broke the two sides of the table in half. “Why should we allow Earthrealmers to roam unworldly like children while our cities burn?” General Shao and his recurring rants about Earthrealm. No one could convince him otherwise, not even the Empress. He then directly sneers at Liu Kang. Kuai Liang darts a stern look until he hears your voice in the corner, standing firm from all the voices that cower over you. There is a hint of softness out of the goodness of your heart addressing your superior. Compared to life in Earthrealm, life is precious, a tangent between innocence and purity, something Outworld is indifferent to.

-> In response, a repulsed look forms on Shao’s face. “You dare defend Liu Kang's wishes? You have no right!” In truth, you knew you could never quench his thirst to repress Earthrealm. But to try to diminish his outrageous outburst for another day is good enough. Curses and insults were spat from all sides, even directed towards you. You and your kind would not understand. You come from the slums of Seido. Do not forget your place, soldier. The court is a spoiled place even Kuai Liang wishes never to be a part of. Tonight was apparent why. You, who only spoke of the truth and fairness, were brought down by your general. It was unacceptable.   -> In the late hours at the palace, Scorpion resides in the guest room, where he fails to find peace. Liu Kang had bid him to rest to prepare for the following days to the other cities they must visit. But the second brother of Lin Kuei failed to do so. The palace was too foreign to the cold tundra of his home. Eventually, he chose to take a walk across the courtyard. The moon was bright and shadowed all the land. The murky ponds had unbloomed lotuses. They were not in season yet. He could still make out the premature colors from their early forms. The ripples of water were tranquil, featherlike. And of the reason why he did not notice your presence before. -> His body freezes when you tap his shoulder. His breath comes short before choking out your name. “Must you always frighten your guests?” You laugh, seeing how startled he has become. “My apologies, Scorpion. I could not resist,” Nights like these with you were ideal. Prevalent to his previous visits, the two of you would do all sorts of activities. You would invite him everywhere, across the palace and into the city. Wherever you went, he would follow willingly. A heartwarming meal by the port. Or even now, a peaceful walk through the gardens. With you, nothing is dull. -> However, when you are not running around, you are predictable. Such as now, as you both rest at a stone bench. Across, the pond was luminescent of the reflection of the night sky. If you were to look, it would be like looking in a mirror, the water clear as crystal. “I’m assuming you leave at first light?” Tragic how your relationship is. You and Kuai Liang reunite with each other like strangers, never touching. In another, you were like twin flames, never leaving. A small part of Kuai Liang feels regret for every time you depart on missions. He will never see you again for some time. “General Shao was furious! It was his way of punishing me for talking out of turn.” He has no right, is what Kuai Liang wanted to say. But with how things were, he said nothing. -> But you look beautiful like this, under the moonlight wake. Without the garments that shield your figure, you are relaxed. The days that turn to months are cruel - but willing to linger for you. Fortunately, a few moments of silence allowed you to rise, brushing the nonexistent dusk from your pants. You had nothing else to say to Kuai Liang. Was he expecting something? He follows your pursuit and looks at you promptly. Without the mask, he is handsome. “Maybe under different circumstances, we would have more time,” Your heart skips as you slyly glance at him. Placing a hand on his jaw, “Maybe next time…” You see his eyes trail from your fingers to your lips. It was not right - you both knew that. [ scorpion ]: the general's mistreatment of you is unacceptable. [ you ]: (laugh) fortunately that is how things work in outworld.

[beedreamscape]

I got Sam playing in a game DM by Aabria, now I need Aabria playing in a game DM by Sam

[rubysgirl32]

Impulsive

Kit Tanthalos x Princess!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Warning: enemies to lovers, Kit and reader being assholes to each other, lot of insults and arguing, Self hatred, cursing, alcohol?

Request: Hello😁 in ur recent post, you mentioned requests, and I was wondering if you could pls make a princess reader x kit enemies to lovers oneshot? 🙏 (@mydogatemywaffle )

Summary: Kit hated her, She hated Kit. Let's see how it works out when they have to have dinner together

─── ∘°❉°∘ ─── 

Like every summer, Queen Sorsha of Tir Asleen, invited a special group of royal families from other realms inside the barrier, to spend an entire week together. A week filled with games, sports and parties. The reason for these annual gatherings was for the new generations to bond and have strong friendships, making the alliances between realms stronger. The kings and queens would get together for once, and chat about life and sometimes discuss business, while the princes and princesses would battle, have parties and cherish the company of each other. Everyone really enjoys and appreciates these summer gatherings. Everyone except Princess Kit. In fact, she despised them. She hated having her brother flirt with her friends, she hated having to share her training sessions, she hated the fact she had to wear dresses on every meal, she hated not having time on her own, but most of all, what she precisely hated was her. 

Y/n. Princess of Veloria, youngest of the 3 heirs to the crown and a complete total narc. They were thirteen, when Airk, Kit and the rest of the royal youths decided to spend a night in the wine cellar, drinking old disgusting wines and playing truth or dare. Kit didn’t actually play, as she invited Jade with her, and spent it talking about practise and sparring. That was until, Y/n found them and went running to Sorsha, and snitched on her so-called friends. They all got punished obviously, but Kit and Airk were grounded for the rest of summer, which meant no sparring with Jade. Call her exaggerated, but Kit swore that it was the worst 7 weeks in her life. 

So ever since, Kit has held that stupid grudge against her like an oath, completely despising the girl, and promising to herself to one day get her revenge. It might sound childish, but if there was something Kit hated, it was a snitch. A teacher’s pet. Someone who followed every single rule, and really did what they actually wanted. She hated those types of people. And apparently, she was the only one since the rest of the princesses and princes seemed to have forgiven the younger girl. They would talk and spend time with her, even though she literally betrayed everyone.

“Kit” Airk opened her bedroom door, with a tight smile. He was wearing his v-cut blouse and tight pants. His hair was messy, meaning he must have been spending his afternoon with one of his newest conquest “The guest have arrived” he announces “Mother is expecting us in the entrance”

Kit's face turned sour as she placed her head on her ringed hands. She really wasn't ready to spend an entire week with a bunch of other people, but at the end of the day it was inevitable. She followed her brother down the staircase, both wearing completely different faces as they got to the entrance. Kit was completely over it and unamused while Airk was smirking and biting his tongue. He was probably excited to see Princess Lethia, from Thatch. Once they got to the entrance, they each stood at their mothers side, looking out the front yard, where fancy carriages rolled into place. The five biggest carriages, stationed themselves in a row, where a servant from the castle was waiting to open the door. 

Kit looked around and could clearly recognize which carriage belonged to each kingdom. The first one, on the left, was from Zenzai, on the north. The king and queen with a newborn in hand came out, both parents tall and with long dark hair. It was followed by Sanpuq, from the east coast. The King, who looked green from the car ride, and the Queen came out, along with two young blonde girls who were around the twins' age. In the middle carriage belonged to the kingdom of Thatch, which was the closest to Tir Asleen, just a bit far south. Out came the King, Queen, three rowdy and manly boys, and a young princess who batted her long lashes toward Airk with a faint smile. Behind it was the carriage from Marya, which came from the northeastern area of the land. Inside where a stone cold woman, who used to be the queen, followed by the new queen and her recent husband, who were holding each other like those corny couples on the tale’s Kit read when she was young.  And finally, but not least, the carriage from Veloria. She could tell it was from Veloria, since it was the biggest and most flamboyant carriage she has ever seen in her life. The king, a 6 foot bearded man came out, then a frigid Queen who didn’t even bother taking her husband's hand to get out of the carriage. She was followed by two tall, muscular, empty head boys who eyed the other girl line. Eventually, the princess came out of the carriage. She was wearing a spotless and shimmering dress that was probably chosen by her mother like always. Kit couldn’t even look at the girl without feeling a furry inside her stomach, the word traitor running through her mind.

“My dearest friends!” Sorsha greeted with open arms and a wide genuine smile “It is a truly pleasure to have you all once again, here in Tir Asleen”

Kit’s mother proceeded to talk and give an hour long speech which she didn’t even bother paying attention to. Instead she was too busy thinking about taking her horse out for a ride to the rocky cliff side, and starring alongside Jade. Once her mother finally finished giving her last speech, Kit turned around on her hill as fast as possible, so she wouldn't have to greet the guest. She took a shortcut, running through the kitchen and laundry room which lead her towards the stables, her red haired best friend awaited for her

“Jade!” Kit shouted

“Your highness” Jade responded 

“Let’s go!” The princesses went to the armory, took out the mask and their designated swords

“Right now?” Jade followed her inside the hut, completely confused “Don’t you have a guest to greet?”

“Well… I can’t entertain them if i'm busy training” Kit handed jade her mask and sword and walked out of the armory without a worry “So let’s go”

Both girls were quick to get their horses ready, saddling them up and leaving the castle grounds to their special cabot place. 

Through a window in a room of the castle, Princess Y/n could see Kit riding her horse in a brutally smooth way, making it look so effortless. How could the Queen allow her daughter to do such… manly things? Was the Queen even aware of her daughter doing such unruly actions? Was the kingdom aware that their princess is not doing her chores and duties, but instead spending her time… having fun and doing what she likes? Y/n wasn't even allowed inside the armory or to see her brother’s dueling since her mom said it was a man’s job to do such rough and brutal things. But it really intrigued the young girl. It has always intrigued her, the feeling of running, of jumping and fighting. It all felt like such a careless activity. Her mouth turned sour from the jealousy that filled her gut.

The princess hated these annual reunions Queen Sorsha did. It wasn't for the people she had to spend time with, or the days in the carriage stuck with her family, but really she hated it because of her. Kit Tanthalos. Princess of Tir Asleen and a complete deviant. Her mother had told her she was the type of princess that doesn’t care about her duty to the realm, or even take responsibility. Instead, she would spend her days sword fighting as if she was some sort of knight. Y/n at first never really understood what she meant, but now that she was a month away from getting married, she understood what she meant. Becoming a Queen was a long and exhausting process, and Kit has spent it rolling around on the floor. Ever since she was a kid, her mom had warned her about that girl, and her disruptive behavior. The Princess grew up by her mom’s ideals, telling her to hate her and dislike her. But as the years went by, that hatred turned into pure jealousy. Kit could wear pants. She wasn't even allowed to own any. Kit could fight and learn to defend herself. While she had to learn how to embroider and knit. Kit could drink alcohol and behave how she wanted. Instead. She was micro-managed by everyone around her and was not even allowed to take a sip of wine. Y/n hated her, because she envied every little piece of her.

The princess groaned at the sight of the princess through the window, so she grabbed both ends of the curtains, and closed them dramatically. She turned towards the smallest chest she had, and took out her journal. The leather covered book was heavy and stuffed with loose papers and dried flowers she would keep. Then she walked towards the desk, sat down and took out the feather from the ink pot, and started writing. After spending 2 days in a carriage stuck with her mother, father and her two clueless brothers, and now having to stay an entire week with Kit, created an enormous amount of tension she needed to realize in her diary. She wrote down whatever came to mind, till her mother’s maid came in. The young princess was placed into a heavy and uncomfortable purple dress her mother had chosen, her hair was brushed harshly then placed in one of those hairstyles that left her with a powerful headache. Her mother eventually came in, and corrected every single detail about her, to look as perfect as possible. 

Once everything was impeccable, the princess was allowed to leave her room to have dinner. Inside the dinner room, there were two large tables, both filled with different plates crammed with delicious food for them. She walked towards the table with the young royal’s and sat next to one of her two brothers, who was currently stuffing his face with the potato salad. The girl served herself some meat, but the glaring eyes of her mother that burned into her forehead, told her that maybe she should stick with salad. And so she did, she placed a small portion of salad, and ate it quietly, listening to Princess Lethia, who informed everynone about her wedding with the Duque from a nearby kingdom. 

Then Kit made an entrance as she walked into the room, late and sweaty from training, laughing about something with a red haired girl who walked behind her. Kit quickly realized that the dining hall was not empty as usual, but instead filled with guests wearing fancy clothing and eating the very best baguette the kingdom’s kitchen staff could offer. 

“Shit” she whispered as she looked around, then looked back at her best friend who had quickly exited the room before anyone could notice. 

The princess stood up straight and turned toward the many pairs of eyes staring at her, bowed gently with a tight lipped smile

“Forgive my tardiness, i was training with my… squire” she grits through her teeth “Please, keep on dining”

The royal from both tables followed the order as they all went back to their conversations and plates. The princess then walked slowly toward the youth’s table to realize the only chair left was right in front of the girl she feared the most. The short haired girl took a seat on the lonely chair trying to ignore the girl in front of her, as she served herself food and wine for dinner. But the girl’s piercing stare was too hard for her to ignore. Before she could even place her fork in her mouth, Kit looked forward to seeing a pair of eyes staring right back at her. 

“Princess Y/n” Kit tilted her head and closed her eyes with a fake smile “How are you finding the food?” 

“Delightfull” the girl answered “How was your evening?”

“Great, actually” Kit responded as she shoved a piece of bread into her mouth “Just got back from a sparring match”

The sight of Kit eating with her mouthful, lights up a fire inside the other princess' chest. How dare she behave like… a commoner. Eating with her mouth full, showing up late for dinner, while wearing filthy rags and being covered in dirt and sweat. The girl breathed as deeply as she could with her corset on and tried her best to swallow her rage.

“Oh,” she says under her breath, as she grabs both her fork and knife and pretend to shovel the food in her plate around “still playing with swords, I see” 

Their table started growing quiet, as some of them happened to have heard the princess remark. Kit’s fake smile lowered into a confused and mocking glare.

“If you call the art of sword fighting and self defending… playing with swords? Then yes, you can say im still doing it” she grabbed her goblet with wine and placed her wondering finger on the rim, circling the glass softly “What about you? Are you still… weaving like a decrepit maiden?”

Gasps from around the table roar, everyone laughing and whispering things to the person next to them. The heat on y/n’s face seemed to rise as she realized she was now under the eyes of so many, especially her mother’s eyes. She must not make a fool of herself.

“Kit maybe-” Airk tried to say but was quickly interrupted by the girl in front of her sister how dropped her fork on the plate

“At least I know how to take care of my kingdom” She spat “I’ve been told you are skipping your classes to spend it off playing with that squire of yours. How is that gonna help you in the future?”

“Because if we ever go to war, I will actually defend and help them, while you… you would be stuck inside your castle like a snobby princess you are” Kit scoffed loudly

“Snobby?”Her words were harsh as she leaned into the table to get closer to the girl on the other side “That is quite a statement from someone who I bet you has their own collection of swords and weapons. I am rather certain that you waste your entire year fighting to impress whoever is closest'' The anger on her body starting to take over, overwhelming her till she felt pressure in her throat 

“If you want to talk about collections, let's talk about your wardrobe, sweetheart.” Kit snarled as she leaned close to the table, her face a few inches away from the raging girl. “I’m sure that if we go to your room, we could find 4 chests filled with different dresses that were made just for you. And back in your castle you might as well have a room entirely for your stupid outfits” The blue-eyed girl slammed her cup into the table roughly, letting the wine drip from the cup to her hand “And to be perfectly clear, I do not fight and train to impress anyone. I don’t need to impress anyone. I fight to be able to defend my kingdom from the magic that is outside the barrier that might attack at any moment. What about you? How are you gonna defend yourself if Bavmorda ever returns? Are you gonna knit yourself a shield?” The room started growing quiet as the people from the other table stopped to listen carefully. “At least I am capable of making decisions on my own rather than following orders like a teacher’s pet. You are completely governed by everyone in your family, and you don’t even seem to bother. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up marrying a troll if your mother told you so” Kit laughed on her own as she shook her head and leaned back into her chair “I would even bet that that very same dress you are wearing this instant, was a order from your mother, and you followed it like the little suck-up you are”

Silence took over the room as everyone’s eyes were now focused on Y/n’s red face. She was not only humiliated in front of her friends, but in front of her mother. The young girl pushed back her seat loudly before running out the door, and slamming it loudly. Her quick footsteps of her tall heels could be heard from outside the dining room, but everyone tried to ignore them as they looked back into their plates. Queen Sorsha stood up slowly and gently, before walking towards the youth’s table and placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Kit, who had grabbed her goblet of wine and was chugging it nervously, tried to ignore her mother’s claw on her shoulder, but the tightening grip quickly became deadly.

“Kit” She stated “A word. Outside. Right now”

Sorsha squeezed her shoulder harder before letting it go and then floated gracefully towards the door, her daughter following behind. The guards opened the big oak doors, letting the queen and her successor exit the dining hall, to a rather large hall. Once the door closes, Sorsha’s eyes turn dagger that stabs her daughter with pure rage. 

“How dare you” she starts her voice sharply cutting through the tense air “How dare you have the audacity to insult the princess in front of everyone!”

“Mom-” Ruby tries to protest

“No! You embarrassed that poor girl in front of her family and friends!” Sorsha then steps forwards, the height difference becoming more significant and predominant “The situation between Veloria and Tir Alseen has been stable for centuries, and while I was about to propose a deal with the King, you raise havoc on the perfect circumstance! We have been waiting 32 moons for this deal!”

“She started it!” Kit argued, stomping her feet softly like a tantrum

“Oh don’t be such a childish Kit!” Her mother slaps her shoulder where her hand previously was, causing the girl to step back amazed  “Just because your brother is getting the throne, doesn’t mean you don’t have any responsibilities. If anything were to happen to your brother, you would have to step up, and become the Queen of Tir Asleen, but at the moment you’re behaving like a toddler'' Before Kit could even say a single syllable, her mother hand pointed towards the end of the hall, where the young princess had ran a few moments ago, and  said perfectly “Go apologize, now”

“What! NO!” Kit crossed her arms and tried to stand tall, only to be faced with her mother’s deathly glare

“Is either that, or your little training sessions with Jade might as well be canceled for the rest of the year'' Kit eye grew wide with the threat “Now go apologize, do not return until she has accepted your apology''

The guards took the queue to open the dining doors for the queen to walk through once again. Kit tried to follow her, quick behind her step, but once her mother entered the dining hall, the guards slammed both doors on the princess’ face. Her fist clenched tightly and her nose scrunched as she cursed her mother on the other side, her small but powerful body filled with fury and famine. She hasn't eaten anything since their royal guest arrived due to her training and now she won’t be able to eat anything unless she finds the stupid princess and apologizes to her.

─── ∘°❉°∘ ─── 

The Tir Asleen castle, to say the least, is extensive. It consisted of four different wings, three floors in each, thirteen towers and over a thousand rooms and quarters that Kit had probably never been to. So trying to look for a princess in a palace like this one, was a job that could take Kit forever. The girl knew the odds were not in her favor at the moment, so she walked around aimlessly, while talking on her own, planning the stupid apology her mother asked for. She took the random stairs, turned on hall corners, and opened every single door she found, as her words would echo through the empty walls. 

“Dear princess” she would sass under her breath “I am so… profoundly sorry” she opened another door, to find an empty solar room, and closed it quickly “for calling you snobby and decrypt'' She walked to the other side of the hall to open another door “even though…” Kit turned the door handle again harder, but the door wouldnt budge “what the fuck?”

She leaned down to the door’s key hole, to see a vague purple figure hunched on the corner of the room, that perfectly resembled the princess dress. Something in her heart truly ached at the sight, but her brain couldn’t not be anything but annoyed so she just let it out in an annoyed sigh and eye roll. Kit knocked on the door as softly as she could, waiting for a response, but she only received silence. She knocked again, a bit harsher.

“Princess Y/n?” she called with pursed lips “I-” she tried to apologize, but she knew this wasn't the right way “can you open the door… please?”

The only noise that came back was the wind that was probably blowing in from the window. Kit knocked again, a bit harsher now. Her teeth biting the inside of her cheeks.

“Come on” her fist banging on the door “I came- I came to apologize” her nose scrunched up in disgust at her own words, so she leaned her forehead on the door.

Silence kept coming back as a response, Kit placed her ear on the door, and tried to listen carefully. After a few tries of paying attention to the absolute silence, looking for any life signal, Kit grabbed the handle and shook it up and down till the door budged open.

She walked inside the room carefully, to find it completely dark and the vague fume of a candle. The purple dress that was left on the corner of the room was completely empty. 

The windows swing wide open as the wind blows harshly, the lacy white curtains dance with the wind's howl, and that was enough of an answer for Kit to where the princess was. The short haired girl ran to the window to look directly to the floor, to see the garden. Her eyes searched desperately until they found a white figure walking around the garden, slowly, and carefully. Kit then tried to piece the puzzle together to realize the thick vines that crawled up the first and second floor from outside the castle to the window’s edge. 

“You have to be kidding me” Kit groaned and rolled her head back

The princess looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, and prayed quietly to anyone who would hear. She then placed her foot on the rim of the window, and carefully then placed her other foot on one of the vines and started climbing down. Carefully, she descended two entire floors of the castle till her leather boots stepped into the sturdy gravel of the garden floor. Kit dusted her sore hands on her pants, and with her head down she saw faint footsteps. And so she followed them into her mother’s garden.

The tall and groomed bushes appeared terrifying at night, creating creature-like shadows that seemed to follow her as she tried her hardest to track the barely visible footsteps on the gravel. The wind breeze made the leaves rustle, startling the princess making her take her dagger out, just for precaution. She wouldn’t admit to being scared, but her heartbeat would say otherwise. Her steps got slower, as she carefully turned around in circles, making sure no one was sneaking up on her, but once she completed her spin, on the far end of the bush tunnels, she could see the very same white figure seated on a fountain, with her hand on the water carefully playing with it. A sigh of relief came out of Kit's chest, as she placed her dagger on the leather scabbard around her thigh. 

“Princess Y/n” She called, while trotting toward the fountain “I came-”

“Just leave me” the girl responded with a shaky voice 

“You know i can’t do that” Kit huffed as she stopped walking

The girl sitting in the fountain stood up and turned around to face the princess. Her face was red stained with tears, her eyebrows lowered and nose scrunched. Her simple white gown, that was quite thin, danced with the cold night air, along with the rustling leaves that startled Kit. The crying girl then scoffed and shook her head.

“Sure you can” She sniffed, as she took a small step forward “I mean” she then took another step forward, making Kit look down to see the girl barefoot “You can insult me in front of everyone, you can embarrassed me in front of my family, you sure can kill me if you wanted to, with those crazy sword skills of yours” she then took another step “So i'm pretty sure, you can leave me the hell alone” 

“I came to apologize” Kit repeated, trying to keep her cool, to not screw this up even more than she already did “I should have never-”

“But you did” the girl took another step closer towards kit, her tears reflexing the night light “And you were right”

“What?”

“I am a snobby, suck-up, stupid, and privileged princess!” She then laughed “I mean, I can't even choose my own dinner! Everything I do is perfectly monitored by my mother! I have spent my entire life envying you because you” The girl took another step “you get to do whatever you want! You’re… free” her last words came out choked out as a tear ran down her face

Kit was left speechless, looking down at her fiddling hand.

“You are smart and you’re strong and talented. You can stand up for yourself and fight back” she continued “you can have fun!” her hands shook frustratedly “you can have fun whenever you want, how you want and with whomever you want. And im- im so jealous! Because it isn’t fair! How can you ride horses and learn to do many things when I'm not even allowed to drink wine! I can’t even choose my dress for the day without getting corrected! And i just wish” she took another step “everyday i wish i could just… be you” Her words broke in her mouth “Be careless, be reckless, be… Not perfect!” 

“Then do it” Kit’s words left her mouth before she could even think about it

“What?”

“Do it” her head kept talking, not even thinking about the consequences “Do something reckless”

“I can’t-”

“Yes” kit now stepped closer, the distance between them now gone, as she took y/n’s cold hands and held them “Yes you can. Do something that your mother would hate, do something without permission, do something because you want to, not because your mother told you so”

The words of encouragement and the proximity made the crying girl swallow harshly, with her heart beating out of her chest. She could feel this energy on her body run through her blood, pushing her to do something. Anything. And so she kissed Kit.

The kiss was short since the girl being kissed pushed her back roughly making them both fall on the gravel.

“What was that for!” Kit stood up trying not to trip as her hand covered her lower lip

“You told me to do something!” The girl on the floor screamed “I just-”

“So you kissed me?!” 

“I panicked!” she stood up, dusting her white dress that was slightly dirty 

Both girls are now standing with at least 10 feet of distance, but it certainly did not feel like it. They stared at each other, both  of their chest rapidly heaving, hair being blown by the soft cold night wind, and their words stuck on each of the words. It felt like looking in a mirror for a second. Especially when they each saw the girl in front take a step forward. They synchronized, ran to each other and planted their lips together. Kit grabbed her waist quickly and pushed her close, as the other girl placed both hands in her hair. The pure adrenaline from both of their bodies softly mixed as they deepened the kiss. The event didn’t even become a worry for them, as they kept trying to pull themself even more. It felt like a magnet kept trying to push them together. 

Their heated kiss got sadly interrupted as some soft giggles and footsteps started getting closer and closer until they heard a scream

“Kit!”

Both girls pushed themselves away once again, and looked to see Airk with Lethia in one hand and a wine bottle on the other. His mouth was wide open and he looked between both girls. At kit first, then y/n, then back to kit.

“If mom ever find out about this” he said shaking his head raising the with the wine bottle, pointing it at both girls “you’re dead”

“Sneaking out with a girl who's getting married in a few months and one of Dad’s precious wines?” Kit eyed her brother and crossed her arms “I think im not the only one who is in trouble”

Airk stood straight, looked back at the girl in his hand who was looking away ashamed, then back at her sister and the princess in the sheer white dress.

“I saw nothing” He states “You saw nothing. No one saw anything” He then started walking back, dragging Lethia with him “come on, I know another spot” and then they both disappeared into the dark cold summer night.

Kit bit her lip as she looked over at the princess who was already staring at her with wide eyes, and batting her tearful lashes. Kit raised her eyebrow and smirked as she walked slowly closer. 

“So” she said “where do we go from here?”

The other girl smiled and shrugged her shoulders

“I mean, you’re brother said it” she took a step closer, her bare feet on the gravel “no one saw anything”

Kit walked toward the girl, grabbed her waist and pulled her up so only her bare sole was on the gravel. She smiled wickedly and got closer

“Good”

─── ∘°❉°∘ ─── 

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part I

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst

Words: 1991

In the training yard of the castle, the sound of clashing steel fills the air as the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, faces off against the eldest princess and heir to the Romanov kingdom, Princess Natasha. 

The sun shines on the area as the two circle each other, carefully watching the other’s movement.

Surrounding them, some of the castle’s staff and the other knights pause in their activities to watch the match with anticipation. 

The captain lunges forward first, his polished sword gleaming in the sunlight. With a swift flourish, he aims a diagonal strike at her midsection.

In response, Natasha sidesteps the attack gracefully, her own blade moving smoothly to parry his sword.

The crowd watches with rapt attention as Steve continues to press forward with additional powerful swings, but the princess evades every strike, stepping as if she were dancing.

On a particularly powerful thrust, Natasha ducks under his attack, extending her arm to him. Then with a twist of her wrist, she expertly hooks her blade around his sword’s hilt and applies pressure. Using his momentum against him, she jerks the sword out of his grasp, sending it spinning through the air. 

The blade lands with a clatter several feet away.

Then in a swift and uninterrupted motion, she hooks her leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him. 

Her sword points at the captain’s chest in victory, ending the battle, as cheers and applause erupt around them.

With a quick twirl, Natasha holds her sword behind her before extending her hand to the captain. Steve gives her a grateful smile and takes her hand as she pulls him to his feet. 

He dusts himself off before giving her an exasperated look.

“Did you really need to show me up in front of my knights?”

Natasha gives him a smirk, replying.

“Well, I have to keep you humble.” 

Captain Steve Rogers was the one who trained her and her younger sister, Yelena, ever since they were little. Years later, they have both mastered their sword and martial arts skills, becoming one of the best in the kingdom.

Glancing around, Steve gives a stern look to the surrounding knights who rush to resume their training. When he turns back to Natasha, he nods in the distance.

“Looks like you have some guests, your Highness.”

Natasha brushes her hair out of her face, turning to look at the directed area.

At the edge of the training yard, she finds you standing alongside another noble, Lady Kate Bishop. 

Kate waves excitedly at her in greeting, and the golden retriever next to her also jumps in place, matching his owner’s energy.

Visits to the castle from the two of you were not surprising. With both of your noble families having prominent positions in the kingdom, it was natural that the four of you, including Yelena, would end up forming close bonds, having known each other since you were children.

Kate is Yelena’s closest friend while you are hers.

Well, you two used to be close.

However, ever since the incident last year on the night of her birthday, you’ve kept your distance from her, only seeing or talking to her when necessary. 

Even now, Natasha can see that the only thing holding you in place is Kate’s interlocked arm in yours.

Your body is turned towards the castle, and your eyes are looking everywhere else but her.

Natasha sheaths her sword at her side and walks over to the two of you. She is knocked back slightly when the golden retriever leaps at her in greeting, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Natasha chuckles and pets his head, “Well, hello to you too, Lucky.”

Kate’s excited energy follows, moving closer, which in turn pulls you forward also. 

“That was amazing! You have to teach me that move!”

Natasha releases the dog with a final scratch before letting him return to his owner’s side. 

“I’m sure Yelena can show it to you the next time you two practice,” she tells her.

Kate nods to herself, reminding herself to ask the younger princess about it later.

Natasha turns to you, giving you a hopeful smile.

“How have you been, Y/n?”

You give her a slight bow in acknowledgment, your eyes still averted from hers.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking, princess.”

Natasha's smile drops slightly at your neutral response. 

So far, her interactions with you have been like this, formal and distant, unlike the usual banter and casual teasing that typically characterizes your friendship.

Before she can ask anything further, Natasha notices a slight movement in your arm as you discreetly tug Kate, trying to get her attention. 

Kate turns to look at you in question and sees your pointed stare as you tilt your head subtly towards the castle.

Her mouth opens in realization, and she turns to Natasha apologetically.

“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry, Natasha, but we have to get going. Y/n has a meeting with the queen.”

You are practically dragging her away as she finishes talking, offering Natasha a tight smile and a small farewell bow.

Natasha’s shoulders slump in despair as she watches you rush away.

It was disheartening to see her closest friend become almost like a stranger, but she can only blame that incident which caused this rift between the two of you. 

Sighing sadly, she pulls out her sword again and heads back toward the center of the area to resume her training.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha is practically sprinting to the dining hall with how fast she is walking through the hallways.

Guards and maids dodge out of her path as she rushes by, already understanding the need to hurry, judging by the time. 

As she approaches the entrance of the dining room, the guards open the doors for her to enter. Stepping into the room, she is immediately greeted by the queen’s reprimanding voice.

“You’re late, Natasha.”

Her mother, Queen Melina, sits at the head of the table while her father, King Alexei, occupies the opposite side. Yelena is positioned on the table's side facing her, subtly shaking her head in warning as her eyes gesture meaningfully toward their mother.

Natasha thinks back to how she spent the remainder of the day after her encounter with you, destroying the training dummies around the training yard in frustration.

By the time she realized how long she’d been training, the sun had already set. 

Deciding there was no point in making up an excuse, she settled with the truth.

“I lost track of the time,” she replies.

In response, Queen Melina nods at the chair closest to her, indicating for her to have a seat. 

When Natasha sits down, a member of the kitchen staff places a plate of dinner in front of her before stepping away.

In an attempt to break the tension, King Alexei claps his hands together and exclaims joyfully.

“Great, the family’s all here! Let’s eat!”

The members of the royal family start eating their meals, except for Queen Melina, who instead turns her attention to Natasha.

“I heard that you were at the courtyard today, training with the royal guards.”

“I was,” Natasha responds casually.

“What about your studies?”

“I already finished them all.”

“If you had told me earlier, I could have given you the next part of your lessons,” Melina admonishes before continuing her lecture. “You are about to be crowned soon as the next ruler of the kingdom. There’s always more that you can learn.”

A small snicker from Yelena catches Melina’s attention, causing her to direct her lecturing tone to the younger princess.

“And you should not laugh at your sister. At least she finished her studies. I heard that you didn't even show up for your lessons. Where exactly were you all day?”

Yelena shrugs nonchalantly before looking down next to her chair at the Akita dog eating from her bowl.

“Fanny wanted to go out for a run, so we spent the day out in the fields.”

At the sound of her name, the dog looks up attentively.

In response, Yelena gives her a gentle scratch on the head, before turning the dog's face toward her mother.

“You can’t say no to this face,” Yelena coos. 

Melina gives the two of them a deadpan look before shifting her gaze forward to her husband.

Alexei chokes on his food in slight panic when he realizes her attention has now turned to him.

“Our daughters have inherited your adventurous spirit,” Melina remarks accusingly.

“That’s my girls!” Alexei exclaims proudly before he catches the sharp glare from Melina. “I-I mean, girls, your studies and lessons come first. You know how important they are to your mother.”

Melina sighs defeatedly, shaking her head at his poor attempt at scolding. She returns her attention back to her eldest daughter.

“I have scheduled several meetings for you this week, Natasha. They’re with the daughters from some of the noble houses, so be sure not to miss any.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Natasha brings her cup up for a drink as she asks for more information.

“What are the meetings for?”

“To find you a partner, of course.”

Natasha spits out her drink in surprise, coughing as she reaches for a napkin.

“Mind your manners, Natasha,” Melina chastises.

Ignoring her mother's reprimand, Natasha exclaims in outrage.

“Why am I looking for a partner?!” 

Unfazed by her tone, Melina answers her question with a serious expression, “Taking on the responsibilities of the kingdom is a lot for one person. You should have someone at your side.” 

Natasha makes a sound of disagreement and gestures at her in accusation.

“A couple of months ago, you told me that I was fully prepared to take over the throne,” she reminds her mother. “You’ve never mentioned that I needed to have someone back then!” 

“Well, that was before I realized that you have obviously made no attempt at looking for a potential partner. So I took the liberty to invite these lovely candidates to help you get started, and you will meet with them.”

Natasha huffs and crosses her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

Seeing her reluctance, Melina continues, declaring, “If you cannot find someone by the time of your coronation, your father and I will choose one for you.” 

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open in shock at her words.

This was not fair.

Throughout her life, her parents have never shown interest in her romantic relationships before. Suddenly, they decide that she is not capable of taking over the kingdom unless she has someone by her side. 

As Natasha tries to come up with a way so that she can get herself out of this situation, an idea comes to her mind.

“What if I’m already in a relationship with someone?” Natasha asks.

Three sets of eyes stare at her with varying looks of disbelief on their faces.

Yelena speaks up first, giving her a skeptical look.

“Nat, you’re popular throughout the kingdom, but the truth is, you spend more time with your sword than you do holding a lady's hand.”

Natasha subtly kicks her sister under the table in response to her comment, causing her to curse in pain. 

“Watch your language, Yelena,” Melina reprimands her before resting her clasped hands on the table and focusing on Natasha. “But she’s not wrong. I have not seen you romantically close with anyone,” she points out accusingly.

Without hesitation, Natasha smoothly lies, “We’ve been meeting in secret.”

Melina examines her critically, and she matches her mother's intense stare.

When Natasha’s gaze doesn’t waver, Melina relaxes her posture and relents. 

“Alright then, if you could tell me who you are in a relationship with, I will cancel all of the meetings.” 

The name rolls off naturally on her tongue before Natasha can even stop herself.

“Lady Y/n Dreykov. I’m in a relationship with Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 19: Take Control

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 4452 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The king wasn't going to show up for breakfast again. You sighed, crossing your arms in disappointment. You had been eating alone in the dining room for a week now. Well, you weren't completely alone. Mrs. Inoue was always by your side since she became your lady-in-waiting, but it wasn't the same. A week ago, you saw the king from time to time, but now, it was like he disappeared in thin air. Despite having a whole castle, he lived in the office. Something wasn't right.

Wasuke handed you breakfast like every morning. A small fruit salad with honey. It looked delicious, but you weren't in the mood to eat. Uraume was there to make sure the breakfast was up to your standards. It was already a ritual of mere presence because they knew you were fascinated by anything they cooked for you.

"The king isn't coming, is he?" You asked the king's right-hand.

"No, he asked me to bring breakfast to the office," they answered.

“Do you know why he locked himself in the office?” You asked reluctantly.

“After Naoya's invasion, the king has been replacing the curses we lost in battle,” Uraume answered the only thing they knew.

Uraume was losing its touch. It's one thing that they didn't know you, but it's quite another that they didn't know the king anymore. After the bet, their ego had dropped considerably. They didn't know what to believe anymore. This new attitude of the king of locking himself in his office to work was new. Uraume had tried to ask him about it, but Sukuna kept shutting them up because it wasn't their business. The king was a strange curse. No, everyone was acting strange.

“Nonsense,” you muttered, getting up from your seat annoyed. “I'm not hungry. The servants can share my breakfast.” You left the room. Uraume returned to the kitchen, they were fed up with all this. Mrs. Inoue followed you loyally as several servants came to pick at your breakfast.

The change from maid to lady-in-waiting had been a pleasant one. She had left her housework to chat with the young lady all day, she ate in the same room as Kenjaku and Commander Mahito, and she had her own room with a large bed and a private bathroom. She had a much more comfortable life thanks to her best friend in the castle. However, it made her sad to see you so distressed because the king had not yet proposed to you. Unfortunately, she could do nothing to fix that situation.

“I will go talk to Master Kenjaku, why don’t you go relax in the game room while I talk to him?” You asked the lady once they left the dining room.

“As you command, lady.” She bowed to you before you retreated down the hall.

She also did not understand why King Sukuna had not proposed to you. You had accomplished everything he had asked of you and exceeded any royal expectations. What else did you need to do to get the king to ask for your hand? I had no idea. It was just a matter of waiting for a positive outcome.

You knocked on the door to Kenjaku's room, which was on the guest room floor. In fact, it was the room you were cleaning when King Sukuna gave you your first direct order. That emotional day when you felt his strong arms embrace your body for the first time. Why were you remembering that now? Kenjaku was quick to open the door for you.

"Good morning," her teacher greeted you.

"The king is avoiding me," you declared. Kenjaku hit your head with the side of his hand. "Ouch!"

"You need to stop being so rude. Greet me as it is reciprocated," Kenjaku scolded you.

"Good morning, master," you greeted him submissively with a bow.

"Much better." Kenjaku returned to his usual smiling self. "Now tell me, why do you think the king is avoiding you?"

"It's obvious!" You exclaimed in frustration. “He doesn’t eat breakfast with me anymore, he doesn’t watch my training sessions, and he lets everyone but me into his office. Every time I want to go in he tells me, ‘No, go study,’” you quoted him, imitating his signature authoritarian voice.

Kenjaku knew this conversation would come sooner or later. He stepped aside for you to enter the room to talk in private. His room was smaller than yours, or at least it looked smaller as it had a large table in the center with several plants, scrolls, and books piled on it. It had a bookshelf with the books he had borrowed from the library, a single bed at the back, and several candles lit around it. It seemed like you had interrupted him while he was working.

“Maybe he’s busy,” Kenjaku commented, closing the door behind him.

“Uraume said that too, but I don’t think that’s the reason why. I repeat, he talks to everyone but me,” you explained, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

“What a riddle,” Kenjaku approached the table, where a teapot and matching cup sat. “Maybe you did something that made him angry, do you have any idea what it could be?” Kenjaku asked you, pouring you a cup of tea.

You thought about when your relationship with the king got worse, right after your sister's death. It was when the king stopped hanging around you, you thought he was busy like everyone else, but now it was at a ridiculous level. That must be the reason.

“Well, I threatened him with an arrow during the fight with Yorozu,” you commented, head down.

“I doubt that's it,” Kenjaku offered you a cup of green tea. “The king is a warrior by nature. He knows what it's like to have adrenaline turn you into a killing machine. More than getting angry with you, he made you earn his respect knowing that you would kill your sister on that occasion,” he hypothesized. “Or he would have killed you instantly. It could be either of those two options.”

So if it wasn't that, what else could it be? The battle had ended in your favor, it healed your wounds, it allowed you to search for your sisters… “Yes, I did have family,” you remembered the conversation you had in the human commune. A pang of guilt attacked your chest.

“Maybe I didn't make him angry, but I did make him sad,” you caressed the hot cup with your thumbs. Kenjaku looked at you confused. “We talked about family and he told me that he remembered his. He might feel vulnerable because I'm the only one who knows.”

“It could be. Sukuna must not be so used to letting go of his feelings like that,” Kenjaku suggested.

“I feel terrible…” You said heavily.

“The king has killed thousands of families, destroyed villages and conquered a king of his equals, you shouldn't feel bad for him,” Kenjaku tried to lighten your mood, but it didn't work.

Even though he had done all those atrocities, he still had feelings like everyone else, be they humans, sorcerers, or curses. You shouldn't have said something so insensitive to him, you weren't like that. Even though you were going to marry him, it doesn't mean you have to be the same as him... Right?

“It will be fine, just give him time,” Kenjaku advised you as he stroked your hair to stop you from thinking about it.

Spring had finally arrived. The crows sang their solemn songs, the wind felt less icy against your skin, and the grass in the courtyard looked greener than ever. Mahito threw a punch at your face. You dodged each of his blows, moving your torso to the sides with your fists in front of your head and shoulders in guard, just as he had taught you in previous days. Your combat teacher threw another punch that hit your side. You stepped back but did not break, you took it like a true warrior.

In addition to knowing how to use the bow, you had to learn how to fight, so he appointed the commander as your new teacher. Sukuna did not lie in his letters when he said that you learned quite quickly. It was only your first week of sparring against him, and you could keep up with him in terms of defense, something very difficult for others he's trained to do. So far, it was the hardest thing you've had to learn, but you were willing to give it your best.

Mahito threw a combo at you that left him wide open, so you let yourself get hit to get into his square and hit him with all your strength in the stomach. You weren't that strong yet, so it only tickled him. Having you so close, Mahito kicked your stomach, causing you to fall to the ground. You rolled on the grass until inertia stopped you. You held yourself while Mahito mocked you.

"You didn't see that coming, did you?" He joked as he leaned towards you.

"Not fair! This is the first time you've kicked me," you complained as you caught your breath.

“You know what they say: 'In love and war, anything goes’” Mahito continued to mock you. “In a battle, they will attack you with everything, and you should be ready for anything,” he explained, more seriously this time.

Mahito noticed that you were recovering quickly. A person who had just had the air knocked out of them would take longer to recover, but he was surprised that after a couple of minutes you were fine. Mahito helped you up, pulling you by the arm carelessly as if you were a rag that had fallen from his grasp.

“I'm surprised that you have good stamina,” Mahito commented.

“I think it’s been all the years of training I had with my mother,” you joked as you wiped the grass residue off your dress.

“So you’ve trained before,” Mahito commented in surprise, not picking up on your sarcasm.

“Something like that, it was dance rehearsals,” you explained.

“Dancing isn’t training,” he scoffed.

“It’s a complicated discipline.”

“How complicated can it be to do this?” Mahito began dancing like an idiot, randomly moving his limbs like a puppet. You burst out laughing at how silly he looked.

“Not that kind of dancing. My mother made me practice ballroom dancing for the neighboring kingdom’s social events,” you explained.

Going to a ball for your family was more complicated than it looked. It was a feat they did at least twice a year. First they had to get the white dresses like everyone else, then they practiced the dances as if it were a mating ritual, and then it was the trip to the neighboring kingdom, the Gojo kingdom. It was a three-day trip for a single night, full of possibilities.

“Ballroom dancing? What is that?” Mahito asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s a type of dance that is danced in pairs at social events,” you explained. You smiled as soon as a funny idea occurred to you. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Mahito couldn���t believe he had agreed, but there he was, in the great hall, expectant, while Kenjaku settled in front of the piano to begin the practice. Mahito felt out of place in an unknown world. His life, until now, had been leading troops to annihilate humans left and right. Human complexities were not his thing; he preferred direct brutality with some foreplay to make it more interesting. 

“Thank you for supporting us with the music,” you thanked Kenjaku with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” he smiled at you. “Besides, it’s about time someone taught him some manners.”

Their eyes both fell on Mahito, who was picking his nose with unusual dedication. Despite being one of the most powerful commanders among the curses, his childish attitude baffled everyone. He didn’t take anything seriously unless King Sukuna himself ordered it; before him, Mahito showed genuine respect, as if Sukuna was the only beacon in his sea of ​​inner chaos.

“What piece do you want me to play?” Kenjaku asked you, sitting on the stool in front of the piano.

“Well, I’m going to teach him how to waltz,” you answered.

“How about I start with The Second Waltz*?”

He sat back on the stool, his back straight, and placed his hands on the piano keys. The wood creaked slightly under his weight. A classical melody, known to him by heart, began to fill the room. The notes wove through the air. They were joyful and precise, marking the beats with an elegance that only constant practice could achieve. That song, perfect in its simplicity, seemed designed to teach a beginner how to dance, to move to the rhythm of life itself.

Sukuna looked up at the cheerful melody filtering in from his office. Despite the closed door, the notes reached him, musical whispers dancing from afar. There was only one person in the entire castle capable of extracting such beauty from the piano, and that person was you. The image of you sitting in front of the ancient instrument filled his mind. He imagined your fingers gliding gracefully over the keys, as if caressing intimate secrets. The game room, with its tall windows and curtains fluttering in the wind, became a magical setting. Shadows danced on the walls, and the dust suspended in the air seemed to surrender to the music.

Not seeing you during that week had been torture. He longed to have breakfast with you, to chat in the afternoons, or even to face you in another game of chess. However, he knew that he could not allow himself to fall into temptation. Discipline stood between him and the desire to meet you again.

The song continued to float in the air, a delicate reminder of your existence. Each note was like an invisible thread connecting his thoughts to you. In his mind, it traveled in circles, recreating the mental image that brought him peace. It was his indication that you were okay, that the world continued to spin in its usual orbit.

He put the document he was reading away in the drawer of his desk. The wood creaked under his fingers, as if it also longed to be part of the melody. He leaned back in his chair, letting the music envelop him completely. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the notes, as if he were floating in a river of sounds.

He took his time to imagine you better. Your fingers, agile and precise, traveling over the piano keys. The light from the window, filtering in softly, creating sparkles on your small silver accessories: a necklace, perhaps, or earrings that sparkled like tiny stars. And your back, standing tall with an elegance that defied gravity, as if you were a professional pianist in the midst of an intimate, personal performance.

The song faded away, dragging with it the magic he had woven in his mind. Reality, raw and unadorned, returned like a cold wave. His once-luminous smile subtly faded as he realized his brief respite of fantasy had come to an end. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time; duty called. With a sigh, he reached for the next document on his desk again.

Before he could dive into the printed words, the same melody began to resonate again. Another smile, shy and rebellious, tried to creep onto his face. But he stopped it immediately, as if he feared vulnerability would weaken him. He brought his hand to his forehead, feeling the disappointment and sweet agony of being trapped under the spell of his own memories. How many times had he wished to erase those invisible notes that haunted him?

The melody persisted, enveloping him like a warm breeze. But it wasn't just music that resonated within him; it was a longing, an eager need that he couldn't satisfy with food or trivial distractions. No, what he truly longed for was to see you again. Not from the safe distance of the window, like he usually did when watching your training sessions with Mahito. No, this time he wanted to be closer. He wanted to study every detail of your face, as only he knew how.

The trail of musical notes led him to the game room, but as he cautiously opened the door to avoid you noticing his presence, Sukuna found himself in an empty space. Neither you nor the piano were there. He followed the trail, like a hunter after prey, until he reached the great hall. The door was ajar, and he entered, desperately seeking your proximity.

Little by little, you entered his field of vision. His mouth parted as he saw the scene unfolding in front of him. Mahito and you were spinning in circles around the hall. He held you by the waist, and you by the shoulder. Your hands intertwined, synchronizing your steps to the rhythm of an invisible melody. Sukuna clenched his fist, feeling the fury bubbling inside him. You were too close, and it was unbearable for him.

Your dress, light as a butterfly's wings, fluttered with each turn. The notes of the song guided your movements, marking every third beat with an elegance only they could perceive. It was a secret pattern, a language shared between two souls dancing in the dim light. Sukuna was beginning to understand why you had wished to attend the Zen’in ball. Your smile, radiant and genuine, evidenced your happiness at moving so fluidly.

You had taught Mahito how to do a natural turn, the most basic step in any choreography. The natural turn is a popular feature in the slow waltz that involves a full turn to the right, followed by a pivot turn and a step to the side. You practiced it over and over while counting in your mind to ensure that Mahito’s body would never forget it.

“Now push me away from your body,” you instructed Mahito.

You were supposed to hold hands and take a step back. Instead, he obeyed you to the tea, abruptly pushing you by the shoulders. You stepped back at an unexpected turn, blinking a couple of times at the abrupt offense.

“I think I should have been more specific,” you thought out loud.

You were about to approach Mahito again, the music still vibrating in your bones, when you noticed an imposing presence at the entrance to the great hall. You caught a glimpse of King Sukuna out of the corner of your eye, and the world seemed to stop. Two forces collided in that instant: yours, full of life and melody, and his, dark and voracious. Both were surprised to find themselves face to face. Sukuna, with his gaze sharp as blades, scrutinized you as if he could read your deepest secrets. You, with your heart still beating to the rhythm of the song, felt trapped in his aura of danger and desire to see him again.

“My king, wait!” you exclaimed, running after him. Kenjaku stopped the song to follow you with his gaze.

The corridor stretched out before you, silent and austere. The light from the chandeliers flickered, creating dancing shadows on the marble walls. But he was no longer there. You could have attributed his presence to imagination, to the echoes of the music still vibrating in your mind. Yet something in you refused to accept that easy explanation. Your heels clicked urgently as you moved forward. The air grew thicker, as if the castle itself held you back. But you did not stop. You were sure you had seen him, that his sharp eyes had scanned you from the gloom. Why had he appeared at that moment? What secrets did he hide in the shadows?

“My king!” you shouted from the other side of the hall.

King Sukuna found himself trapped in the doorway, the doorknob cold beneath his fingers. His eyes met yours. There was no escape; you had caught him just as he was about to disappear into his shadowy haven. You approached with a quick step, determination shining in your gaze. He could imagine what you would say to him. After all, he had ignored you for a whole week, as if the melody and the twirls in the great hall meant nothing.

“Do you know how to dance?” You asked him. Sukuna arched his eyebrow at the question.

“No,” he answered honestly.

“How will you enjoy the ball if you don’t know how to dance?” You joked with a smile before offering him your hand, asking him to grant you a dance.

The air in the small office became thick, charged with expectation and secrets. Sukuna and you, two opposing forces, met in a silent duel of gazes. His red eyes, like burning embers, scanned you from head to toe with an intensity that made you feel naked before his scrutiny. You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly at him. It was not a flirtatious or provocative smile; it was an invitation to calm, a gesture that was intended to dispel the nerves that tormented him. Because, despite his façade as the king of curses, you knew that there was also a human part.

“Introduce yourself with a bow,” you asked in a whisper, afraid of sounding too demanding.

The great hall became an intimate stage, and the music floated in the air like a shared sigh. Sukuna, with his unexpected elegance, leaned forward, obedient to the invisible melody. You, with nerves and excitement intertwined, delicately took the skirt of your dress. You approached at the same time, like two souls synchronized by a capricious destiny. You indicated to him in nervous whispers how he should get into position, a complicated task considering that the king has 4 arms. You decided that he would take you by the waist with his lower hands, while his upper hands took your hand and lower back. His gaze found yours, and in that instant, everything else disappeared.

“You will be the guide. You will decide all the movements we will do from now on and I will follow you,” you explained your position in the dance. “A perfect role for you,” you joked.

You explained to Sukuna the same thing you had to Mahito: how to perform the natural turn in the waltz. You counted the beats to the imaginary music, your words flowing like notes in the air. Sukuna, always attentive to detail, watched his feet with concentration, as if each step were a crucial piece in a game of chess.

The office transformed into a small stage. Chandeliers flickered, creating dancing shadows on the walls. The wooden floor creaked beneath their shoes as they spun. There was no real music, only the echo of the melody that resonated in your minds, guiding you. Sukuna and you moved in an imaginary circle, like two comets caught in a celestial dance. The king of curses, so accustomed to brutality and darkness, now let himself be carried away by the grace of your instructions.

The steps multiplied, as if the music itself guided them into unknown terrain. They started with the full spin, Sukuna spinning with you in an impromptu hug. The room seemed to shrink around you, as if you were in a world apart, where only they and the melody existed. It was the first time Sukuna had tried something for the simple fun of it. His life had been marked by fighting, blood, and darkness. But now, in this little corner of reality, he allowed himself to be something more. Your sweet words encouraged him to keep going.

Sukuna thought he was fooling around with you again, but taking your body was enough of a reminder that this was real life. Your heart hammered in your chest with every brush against your back. His touch, always empathetic, seemed to understand the secrets you hid beneath your skin. It wasn’t like when he took other objects; no, his hands were different. Large and warm, they glided with a familiarity that took your breath away. He didn’t need to move his palms; his mere presence was enough to travel every inch of your body.

You guided him to hold your weight to lower your torso to the ground to finish the dance. You dropped your graceful arm, waiting for the king to return you to the position to finish the dance, but he didn’t. You looked up, his eyes hyper-fixated on you. Your body was pressed against his in an unusual embrace. A few pink hairs fell over his face, so you helped place them behind his ear. The tension was in the air, and they only needed a sweet gesture to cut it. Sukuna, in a burst of desire, pulled you close to his face to kiss you.

“My king?” Uraume, entering the office, interrupted the moment.

Sukuna was instantly embarrassed by the idea of ​​being seen in such a vulnerable way, that he suddenly released you, letting you fall to the ground. You stifled a groan of pain as the king regained his composure to address Uraume, who was carrying a silver tray with lunch and a face of confusion. Unlike Sukuna, Uraume had no idea what they were seeing.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing's happening, Y/n just had something in her eye.” Sukuna quickly excused himself to avoid looking like a lovesick idiot in front of his right hand, pushing you away to receive the tray.

“Nothing's happening.” That sentence ruined the moment completely. Humiliation consumed your cheeks as you were on the ground. You couldn't believe that the king who once held you in his arms had now let you go. You bit your lower lip to keep from crying. You ran out of the office to go to your room and pretend that none of that had happened.

"That doesn't seem like nothing," Uraume commented as they watched you flee down the hallway.

“Shut up,” Sukuna scolded before roughly pushing them out of the office. Uraume only backed away before the king slammed the door in their face. He couldn’t believe that just happened. “What’s wrong with everyone?!” they thought, frustrated with the situation.

Sukuna pressed his back against the door and sighed exasperatedly. He smiled to himself as he slowly stopped acting on his instincts. Instead of kissing you, he let go, that was a good start. He was regaining his self-control after torturous weeks of being a hopeless lover, but if that was the case, why was he blushing completely?

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Astral Prism, Orpheus & Raphael Theory

So you know how most people in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom make the Raphael joke?

I'm here to tell you that it's extremely hurtful, because his character has a lot more depth than some of you are willing to see.

Behold, my Baldur's Gate 3 theory:

Right before we enter Act 3, we are jumped by githyanki who want to retrieve our Astral Prism. We are summoned to the Dream Visitor - The Emperor, to help him in the fight.

We find out then that our supposed ally is an illithid but there is one more guy, The Gith, the Orpheus, The Prince of the Comet.

You can ask the Emperor what the heck is a githyanki doing there and he will tell you the brief story about the War of The Comet*.

He is going to mention, that he is bound by INFERNAL chains. Hold on? How come?

After we are done with the Royal Guard, we can go to the upper left side from Orpheus's prison and find an ancient Githyanki disc. It will tell us, that Vlaakith had some infernal business conducted with a devil with wry charm. Of course Raphael isn't the only devil capable of being charming, but it feels natural for it to be him when he is already a very important character in game.

Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki says that it is indeed Vlaakith and Raphael.

OK, but why would they exchange the Astral Prism and is it Vlaakith getting it or Raphael receiving the relic?

He is giving it to Vlaakith. But how would he be in possession of such an artifact?

My theory: He is the one who had it created for that trade. (Commissioned from someone else)

Explanation:

If you look at Hope's and Orpheus's prison, you will notice a striking resemblance at the crystals that can be only shattered by the Orphic Hammer. A Hammer, that Raphael is in possession of! How convenient!

(Even Hope's and Orpheus' eyes are glowing in the same way when they are enslaved.**)

The runes and the design of both Astral Prism and Orpheus' shackles are also strikingly similar. It does not look like anything of Githyanki creation, it screams infernal.

But that still doesn't really add up, does it? Who would possibly create such a powerful object which plays such a major role in the plot?

Here, we have to familiarise ourselves with the wonderful post by Bearhugsandshrugs

Em explains above who the people visiting House of Hope are***.

One of them is a crazy, extremely knowledgeable wizard who specialises in creating copies of himself which prevents him from dying in battle.

When we kill Raphael, we kill him in HoH, in his own domain. He should be gone, for good! But yet, upon interacting with the Orb of Infernal Envisioning, we see that he is soon to be devoured by his father. Hells do not split into separate planes - so either Mephisto snatched his soul somehow (which seems impossible because his body is still there and devil's souls are their bodies) or Raphael respawned and his father took one of his clones or something like that. (He's just so cool I had to put it in here, but let me return to my theory now)

Another name on the list points out to Raphael's interest in different planes (even the ones which don't seem to be reachable) but also, magical puzzle boxes capable of holding items inside. As you can see, the name on the list is under the uninvited visitors section, which most likely means that they either fuel his soul pillars or have been turned into a soul coin. So it didn't have to be that particular person helping Raphael with the creation of the Astral Prism, but it points out to his interest in that topic.

Now, when would that even happen?

Karsus Folly took place in -339 DR, BG3 takes place in 1492 DR, around 2000 years later.

The enslavement of Orpheus - so also the Vlaakith trade - happened at around -4000 DR.

It is not impossible that Raphael was already around and scheming at that time. Why? Because Mephistopheles gifted Haarlep to Raphael most likely when Raphael was about to get the Crown before his father snatched it. Comparing their visual age, it seems that Raphael was already a young adult cambion at around the War of The Comet age.

Another thing is the fact that, Kith'rak Voss, the badass Githyanki Red Dragon rider, the sword of Vlaakith, found out about Raphael and contacted him and told us to get our ass inside Sharess Caress. Raphael doesn't mention him having an 'office' there, it's Voss who does it. Only upon entering the place, we can interact with Korrilla who's like, hey girl go upstairs Raphael rented a room hoping you'd drop by. HE KNOWS WE SPOKE TO VOSS, he has to! And also, Voss was around when Orpheus got enslaved! According to Wiki he was inside the Astral Plane when that happened. And Raphael has absolutely 0 interest in trading with Voss, yet the githyanki managed to reach him somehow. In my opinion, when he finally realised the lies of Vlaakith, he was looking for a specific devil, for Raphael, because he might remember him from back then.

(* Justice to my poor Githyanki, the most based and cool race in BG3. Imagine how painful it has to be to realize over centuries of time that you helped the self-proclaimed queen establish her tyranny over your own people because you've been brainwashed to believe that Orpheus is a traitor and Vlaakith the rightful heir of the throne)

(** The eyes, the chains, the crystals. The top of the Orphic Hammer is literally partially built from that same gem/crystal and on top of that, if you use Examine on it, it clearly states that it has been built in Infernal forges.)

(*** headcanon warning: The Amulet of Vigor that is present in the Archive is actually proven to have some... Other invigorating capabilities ☠️☠️☠️ and the old, ancient, crazy wizard has the boudoir privileges. Coincidence? ☠️☠️)

Anyways, to sum up:

• Githyanki disc shows us a deal between Vlaakith and Raphael where the devil gives her the Astral Prism.

• Raphael orders creation of the Orphic Hammer (the name itself, come on, it's such a mockery just like House of Hope) to make sure that he has the means to free him if it will benefit him in any way.

• In exchange for the Hammer, he receives some kind of knowledge of ascension to godhood. (Lae'Zel tells us during the game that ascension is the githyanki's greatest honour but it turns out it is nothing else but ensuring that Vlaakith remains alive and a god, because she just consumes the life force of her greatest warriors)

• Hope's and Orpheus's chains are strikingly similar and the part of the Orphic Hammer is built from the same gem/crystal that seems to be enslaving both of them.

So yea, my humble request is that you start fully appreciating the incredible writing of the game, instead of just focusing on the shallow 'haha bottom' jokes. I could make another post about that itself, but it's pointless. I hope you enjoyed!