#falls within my jurisdiction

[hoodielord]

The king of the Infinite Realms and his two Red Knights

King Phantom sat on his throne, listening to the pleas and demands of his people. Many for Gotham asking for justice. Many ask for justice against the Joker. The ghosts plead with the king to end the clown. Beside him, his two knights stand. To his right Red Huntress's hands tighten on her blaster as she listens. And to his left Red Hood stood frozen but close enough you could see the slight tremble. The ghost that was speaking remembers her death but very little of her life. She tells the king of the Joker and how she worked for him.

“I hated it I know I did something bad but couldn't make it right, I should have. I lured someone …someone important... to him and I watched him nearly beat them to death. The joker then locked us in together and set explosives.” The woman was crying and struggling to make it through. “That person I led there he …he tried to save me even if I led him there he tried to shield me from the explosion.”

“I know I shouldn't ask for anything but I want to ask that you make sure that person knows that I'm sorry and to tell them ‘thank you’” 

Beside Phantom Hood shook slightly trying his best to hold himself together.

“Despite your pericous actions I will see to your request.”

The ghost's image flickered and she smiled as tears streamed down her face.

“Thank you.”and then she was gone.

The throne room cleared, Phantom relaxed into his throne as his knights did the same. 

“ It never gets easier, does it ghost boy?”

“No…no it doesn't.”

After a moment's pause. Phantom speaks again.

“Hood….Jason." Danny calls in a gentle voice. 

Jason turns to face Danny. His face was hidden by the helm but Danny could tell he was close to a panic attack. Danny and Val gently walked toward Jason trying to usher him to sit down.

“That was…that was my mom, my biological mom. She..she apologized?”

“Some ghosts are remorseful for their actions and want to repent.” Danny sat on the ground next to Jason and Val on the other side. 

“The Joker was the one to kill us but she she helped.”

“The Joker is enough of a threat to ghosts as well given his brushes with death. He fall within my jurisdiction. And even if he didn't,”

“  We would have still ended him for you.” Val finishes Danny’s sentence.

Jason removes his helm and stares at them. “He wont let you.”

“Killing the joker wouldn’t be hard.” 

“No I talking about Batman he wont let you kill the Joker.”

“As I said the Joker is soaked in so much death that he falls under my jurisdiction.” Danny smiles, his features stretch his form becoming more eldricth as it shifts.

Val smacks him on the side of his head. “Enough of that save it for the Joker”

“Ow Val.” Danny rubs his head as Jason snickers at the two of them.

“ You deserved it, you royal pain in my ass.”

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! ��🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

[hana-no-seiiki]

REJECTION

YANDERE! IDOL! OC! (EVE) x IDOL! READER BLURB (ft. new ocs!)

Before we start, I’m excited to announce that I’m finally starting an HNSVerse webtoon/comic series w/ our starting story ( being the one Eve/Jisoo is featured in ) Love ♡ Multiplied ! Invasion of Your Heart this fall. Hope to see you guys during its release ehe.

If you’re new to my blog, go ahead and check the tag hns.eve for more works of him, or check out my master list.

Without further ado, here’s Eve’s first ‘solo’ fic! Enjoy!

warnings: yandere themes (obsessive love, violence, unreliable narrator). mentions of alcohol abuse/alcoholism. incel/nice guy jisoo. profanity.

status: unedited

©️ both the art and story belong to me, please do not redistribute, repost, translate or share without credit/permission.

this particular fic is safe for minors (16+) so no mdni on this folks. feel free to enjoy.

[previous fic / prequel to this fic]

“I’m sorry, but I don’t like you that way.”

Jisoo never truly knew the power of words til he heard you after his confession.

He prepared months in advance, with a dedication that was unusual to him at the time.

He picked the perfect venue, the one convenience store you two always ate onigiri at. He picked the perfect time, sunset — to really set the mood — and a week after monthly examinations so that emotions were not running too high. He spent hours, days, maybe even weeks just agonizing over the words to choose when he finally poured his feelings out. He even prepared for times after the

Throughout his whole time as a trainee, nothing felt as bad as the dejection your words gave him.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You’re more of a dad to me . . .” He saw your eyes flick left and right, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement despite the plan he meticulously concocted.

Still he could not control the poison from injecting itself within the crevices of his inflection, his delivery coming out as awfully sour — maybe even petty, “A dad? You’re older than me.”

“Yeah, a dad friend. You’re the more mature one between us and . . . I just — I just can’t see you romantically.” If the damage wasn’t enough, you ended your explanation with an emphasis. “Ever.”

You then grabbed your belongings and left. Though, being the polite and kind person you were, you made sure to at least give him a farewell.

Jisoo sighed, looking up towards the convenience store ceiling lights. The sting from the bright luminance distracted him only a little bit before his mind went back to you. Consumed by his thoughts, his heart suddenly began beating a million times a second. A sudden adrenaline rush overcame him.

If you didn’t like him because of his personality, he’ll just go ahead and change that up a bit.

The day right after, Jisoo found himself doing something he would have never even thought of. It was amazing how much you made him realize and change. It was actually why completely fell in the first place.

Though, the changes before were natural and a bit too slow. Jisoo needed to have you as his as soon as he possibly could. And so, change had to happen now and under his jurisdiction.

You weren’t present that day, so it wasn’t too out of the ordinary to follow a couple of trainees out when lessons concluded. Usually he was completely stuck to your side and your side alone. Conversation didn’t come naturally to him, as such friends don’t either.

It took him a few minutes to man up and a long, deep breath to finally attempt getting one of the trainee’s attention.

Daehyun was his name, Jisoo thinks. When getting the former’s attention he opted to tug the guy’s sleeve just to be safe.

“What’s up? Oh, it’s you. ” Daehyun turned around. His silver eyes sparkled underneath the late afternoon’s sunlight. He was one of if not the best dancer in Celestial Entertainment. In addition to that, he was known for charming personality and magnetic stage presence.

Frankly, Jisoo only saw him as annoyingly bright and cheery. They were exact opposites. They fought on a daily basis.

But that was exactly why Jisoo needed him in particular.

“You’re childish.” Jisoo began.

Daehyun’s jaw goes slack at this cool, raven haired giant’s audacity. Most of the time he’d come back with a retort but he was utterly drained from practice. “Ah. . .Okay then. . . Well I gotta go — “

Daehyun jerked his arm away, but that only prompted Jisoo to fully grab him by the bicep, “Teach me.”

“Sorry, I think I’m misunderstandiny you. You want me to teach you how to be childish?“

Jisoo nodded vigorously, “I want to be a better idol. And . . . a better fellow trainee. Listen. I’ve been a terrible person to everyone here. I just want to be better.”

Daehyun doesn’t answer for a long time. Maybe even minutes pass before he did. At least, enough time for the trainee walking alongside him to realize his partner wasn’t near him anymore.

His jaw was still wide open.

“Wow, points for self-awareness yo. Finally.”

“Bold words for someone in punching range.” Jisoo lets go of the shorter man’s arm and crosses his. An eyebrow raised.

“Fine, fine. Guess your short temper hasn’t gone anywhere. Time for Being Chill 101, yeah?” Daehyun then shouted to his companion, an even shorter guy that Jisoo dreaded asking help from. But he was desperate. Beggars can never be choosers. “Hayate! C’mere! Jisoo needs a lil help!”

“Eeehhhhh—?! Jisoo? Asking for help? The gods have answered our prayers!”

Jisoo soon realized that he asked help from a bunch of hooligans.

If he faces rejection again after all this trouble, he might just murder a man.

“Hey.” You walked towards Jisoo with your usual smile.

“Heyyy!” He greeted back. Earning a confused look from you as you sat beside him.

You chuckled at his strange demeanor. Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange. You knew Jisoo could be quite awkward at times. Considering you haven’t seen each-other for months by now, he must feel weird talking to you all of a sudden. Especially after what you did last time. “What has gotten into you?” You asked. It was either your earlier theory or the effect of him hanging out with other people. You heard he started spending some more time with other trainees. Even going on drinking sprees with large groups. You didn’t approve of such activities but were too busy to scold him on the topic lately.

But apparently both of your guesses were ‘wrong’ as he had answered, “Huh? Me? Pffft. Nothing. Justa — think I drank too much coffee.”

You could smell the stench of soju and beer in his breath now that you were closer. “Right. I just wanted to say that we can still hang out you know. Doesn’t mean that I rejected you that we can’t talk anymore.”

“Oh, sorry! Sorry. Did it feel like I was avoiding you? I was just busy with Idol Image training.”

“Idol Image training? I thought you hated those lessons.”

“Ya know me. Indecisive and impulsive as always.”

Jisoo grinned at you. But all you could do was cringe out of pity and guilt.

Apparently the guilt you felt wasn’t enough however as you decided that it was now or never to rub some salt into gaping hole of a wound.

“Almost forgot. I have to tell you something. I got a deal to be a solo artist.”

“Solo what now? I thought we were debuting together.”

“Looking at how you’re dealing with my rejection. I think it’s safe to say that us working and living together won’t go too well. I don’t want to lead you on. We’re friends. Nothing else. Sorry if I did so before.”

You didn’t even let him show you how much he’d improve. How much he worked on his way with words and conversation. Before he even had the chance to show his work you had not only rejected him once again but extinguished any hope from forming.

For once in these past few months when Jisoo had been the most talkative he had ever been in his life, he found himself speechless again.

“Soo?”

“I’m . . . proud of you. Really.”

The awkward air was too much for your to bare, so you left right after. Not a goodbye or even a wave.

Instead he watched as you swiftly made your exit. A frown laced your exquisite features.

He then spotted a man. He looked quite a bit older than you. Elegant and refined, he wore a classic black suit with a long coat draped on his back. Short leather gloves that no doubt hid hands as attractive as his own face. His hair was somehow darker than the one Jisoo was born with.

But what struck the young trainee the most was the man’s pine green eyes. It was like a forest one could easily get lost in. A cliche description he knew. But it was the best he could think of.

Jisoo doesn’t realize the trance he was in until the man suddenly turned straight at him —

— and smirked.

People often saw Jisoo leave early during drinking parties. They chalked it up to his shy nature and he didn’t really have a good tolerance.

In reality it was mostly because he found a perfect victim to vent out his frustrations on that night.

It was usually a person too drunk to even understand or realize what was going on.

“Useless.” He muttered, kicking the random man’s stomach before the latter curled up in the floor in pain.

“Stop! Please stop!”

Jisoo scoffed at his protest. His red eye held no light as he continued his ministrations. This time stomping on the stranger’s cheek. “Utter piece of shit.”

The man stops protesting. All that could be heard in the cold chill of the night, was sounds of harsh impacts and Jisoo’s complaints and self deprecating words.

“Too mature? Bah. Bet that was all a fucking lie. They just couldn’t fuck a pathetic piece of shit like me.” Jisoo gave one last stomp, aiming specifically towards the man’s hazel eyes that reminded him of the person that took you.

Wait.

Eyes. Green Eyes.

That man was the CEO of Celestial Entertainment. A man known to be cut-throat and ruthless. A man who’s infamous for his apathetic nature regarding business. He probably saw your potential and thought that putting you in a group would dim it down.

Ace.

That’s it! You didn’t want to actually go solo. Jisoo understood now. Why was he so stupid?

You were just forced by that smug-faced bastard.

He leaned down, happily whispering in a sing-songy voice to his victim. “Thanks man. You really helped.”

“Woah.” A familiar cheerful voice resonated from behind him.

Jisoo froze.

He was done for. He was going to jail. This was it.

No, he had to calm down. Think rationally. He studied for this goddamn it.

Jisoo slowly spun his head. The happy expression on his face was instantly replaced with a horrified one. A look of confusion, fear and sadness. “Daehyun - 형 . . . he . . he came unto me— “

“Shit bro. No worries I got you covered.”

With rejection came realization. With charm came blind support. And with the right words and proper delivery, any person could be swayed.

“Wanna go drink after this?”

“You paying?”

Jisoo wished, for the good of everyone else and himself, that this green-eyed monster would not freely give rejection as you did.

[ TRANSLATIONS ]

형 - hyeong - older brother (not literal). honorific used by men towards those who are older (also men).

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[witchofthesouls]

I would love to see you write some more culture differences between the bots and humans. If you wouldn’t mind :0 I wish we saw some in TFP

Same here. I love seeing world-building and deep lore, especially with other fantasy/sci-fi civilizations.

TFP gave us so much and so little at the same time. It's like going to a restaurant, you have a drink and great appetizers, so you're constantly waiting for the entrée that isn't coming!

TFP is also really fascinating when looking at it with the lens of the caste system and its deep roots within and among the 'bots, even their reduced circumstances. I get the feeling that Optimus is way more casual in way with his team than what the decorum would demand, even with his barriers.

The Autobots would find human cityscapes as quaint. Even the dense sprawls of megacities with towering high rises are paltry reminder of what they're used to.

Cybertron was a planet where its wilds had been tamed. Either reshaped or completely stripped. The Wastelands is/was an apt name for the baren landscapes outside the established city-states.

It wasn't just a large difference in public transport and zoning and sheer scale. It was also the functional design and architecture.

City-states mimicked the layouts of Titans' ground alt-modes. They didn't sprawl outward. Those had set perimeters based on Titans' outer defenses. Instead, the cities expanded up or down.

It wasn't limited to just a parking structure or secretive bases. Whole levels housed entire communities of what castes resided there: occupations, hospitals, sewage, refineries, restaurants, entertainment, and so much. Some mecha go without ever seeing the sunlight or feel real wind, especially those at the lowest of the system. The lowest castes are set all the way at the bottom, among ancient tech and dilapidated buildings. Sorting and recycling what could be kept and what must be sent back to the upper levels.

The concept of "open to the public" would confuse the Autobots. The Golden Age operated its society under the strict overview of a caste system, which expanded to "where" and "what" individuals of a caste could access.

Monster truck rallies fall under bloodsport to them. Bulkhead once scavenged money to watch and do small bets at high-stakes drift racing and lower-tier gladiator matches below the ground. Mecha still had to pay entrance fees to it.

Parks were under the Artisanal caste. Blending murals of legends, careful tending to fauna that are functionally extinct that was tailored to the agreed aesthetic, live music from specific pupils of masters, playing on instruments that merged with the gardens, so it was difficult to tell what was a tool and a plant or animal. And entry to any of it was only allowed for certain castes.

Universities were thriving, self-contained communities, and major points of power. No one off the list would be allowed into its grounds. All visitors and short-term guests were deeply screened and monitored. There is no such thing as "dropping by." Everything is meticulously planned and prepared. Unless a faculty member personally vouches for a guest, they must heed the numerous rules or a risk permanent banning.

Academia had long since been territorial over its talents and quality of its programs and people. They refuse to allow anyone outside its jurisdiction to bully one of its own. No matter the rank or caste, it will close its inescapable jaws around an outsider.

The fact that someone could go to a private university and simply jog upon its grounds is mind-boggling to the 'bots.

As well as libraries and their courses and workshops. So anyone can go? Anyone?! Everyone has access to the knowledge!? Can anyone simply go join a seminar on local gardening? Anyone can just go to a playground and start swinging or playing basketball or flying a kite or dancing to music? Anyone?

Bulkhead had a lot of questions for Jack and Raf since they're locals compared to Miko.

"So anyone can go?"

"Yeah. I used to spend my recess looking up bird anatomy and Ancient Greece and Egypt."

"You had a thing for ancient civilizations?" Raf asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" Jack shrugged. "Pharoahs and gladiators and old gods? We ate that up with mystery books or Goosebumps."

"I read Sherlock Holmes and the Chronicles of Narnia."

"Those are classics. Hey, did you get into The Lo-"

"Hold up," Bulkhead cut in, crouched down and leaning more forward, as if sharing a secret and quietly ask, "So anyone?"

"Yes. Anyone." Jack repeated, rapidly firing off each point with a finger. "Their family. Their friends. Their classmates. Their coworkers. Their pe-"

"Even, let's say, a construction worker. He could just go inside and pick up, I don't know, quantum physics? Anatomy of any frames? Gardening?"

"Sure." Raf squinted and moved to wipe off his glasses with his sleeves. "Clubs and people like to donate more to expand the base. Some of the college professors even leave early editions of their textbooks." Raf readjusted his glasses and beamed. "It's for easier access people and for an industrial copier."

"Oh..." There was a wealth of meaning in that small noise.

"You..." Jack struggled on the concept. Perhaps giant metal aliens didn't need books and could download information from their own internet. "You don't have libraries or schools?"

"No. We did." Bulkhead sighed. "I just wasn't allowed into them."

Out of all of them, Miko would be the to come the closest to understanding them in some ways. 出る杭は打たれる. The nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

As a transfer student from Japan, Miko does have instances of culture clashes with her American classmates and host family.

She's loud. She knows that. But Americans are a different breed with no restraint. In some ways, admirable. In others, incredibly frustrating.

Miko is used to a far heavier workload with long hours after-school and a busy city life. Jasper qualifies between a small and large town that she can't walk around easily on her own with the blazing heat and bitter cold nights and the lack of a car or a bike.

Detention in the US is a joke to her. Stay in school after it's over? She's used to doing that back at home with clubs and cleaning it. On a Saturday? Same thing. Some clubs back home ran long hours over the weekend. Do homework? She already finished it during lunch or between classes because she wants all the other time to herself and the 'bots.

Because Bulkhead gets a realization just how free the kids' social mobility is, he tries to get on Miko over her scrapping at school and her assignments, especially after Ratchet's high jacking their science projects resulted in failure. And that was another strange blow since Ratchet is a medic and a scientist. She's smart and quick and can be rough around the edges and so everywhere, and, to him, Miko deserves everything she could want in her short life. (And wasn't that also a terrifying concept to grasp? To just live and die under a single vorn?)

At first, Miko was getting annoyed because it's similar to the well-meaning nagging her host family does, but she reads the worry he has, and they have to really sit down and speak and soothe over his misunderstandings.

It comes as a huge surprise to her that Bulkhead can just download a language into him. Context and colloquialisms would be missing, and he needs work because he's a mix between extreme formality and, much to her delight, yakuza. And it's all because of her own frustration that English is her second language.

[beehiveofblorbos]

here’s my favorite names for the Entities and why! (I won’t include the Flesh, the Hunt, the Slaughter, or the Vast since they have max two names)

the Spiral: Es Mentiras, which I already discussed in another post

the Eye: Ceaseless Watcher. I feel like that kind of epitomizes the horror of the Eye to me. The idea of never being alone, always being accompanied by something that knows everything about you, that will not look away no matter what you show it or what you do to try to stop it. Also brings a sense of how uh… wide reaching it is? A lot of the Eye’s other names feel really personal: It Knows You, Beholding etc feel like it’s a limited scope. Ceaseless Watcher captures how it doesn’t particularly care about what it’s watching.

the Web: the Story Spinner. I love stories, so to have them synonymized with the Web and its spiders helps me almost understand how the Web is unique in having a mind and a purpose to its horror. I like Mother, too, something about how youre supposed to trust that your parents are looking out for you and understand the world at a deeper level (even if they’re not, and they don’t), but Story Spinner takes cake

the Buried: Choke. it’s just so direct compared to the other stuff, yknow? Universal. I feel like it gets at the core of the fear. Be it under debt, water, or dirt… choke. It’s like a command too, which I like since often Choke has some kind of calling/drawing aspect to it.

the Lonely: the Lonely. the Lonely’s nicknames aren’t very creative. Just saying Lonely feels so plaintive and deeply sad, it does the work and does it well

the Stranger: I Do Not Know You. I like how it pairs with the Eye’s It Knows You enough that it made it on this list despite only having two names. It’s also like… hm, the Stranger is typically an imposition: not a fear from within like many of the others can be, but requires a trigger. I Do Not Know You sort of feels like the Entity itself is telling the world that, and in turn the world cannot know it. Perhaps it’s all the more comprehensible because of the Unknowing…

The Extinction: The Terrible Change. Honestly, the idea of it makes me surprised that it didn’t come on sooner. I’ve got an enduring fondness of apocalypses, but the concept of The Terrible Change makes me think of almost it as akin to evolution. To becoming something that you once would’ve hated, but you have no choice but to become it. Hm.

The Corruption: the Crawling Rot. Yeah, I bet you’re surprised it’s not the Flesh Hive, right? XD To be honest I’m really surprised that I’m not a bigger fan of it overall, considering the combination of bees and disease that falls beneath its jurisdiction. I feel like the Crawling Rot speaks more to the aspect of the Corruption that I do like: that the things you hate most will endure, no matter how hard you try to stamp them out, and eventually they will consume whatever was worthy or decent or good about your purpose, your life, or the world at large. And nothing is pure or safe or clean, not for long. Diseases don’t die, and neither do ant colonies or beehives or what have you. You can’t control it and its spawn or destroy it… and forever that rot will keep crawling towards you, trying to ruin everything you love

The Desolation: the Ravening Burn. It’s another one that serves dual purpose: the Ravening Burn, in the sense of the ravenous burn that consumes everything it stumbles upon, no more and no less. But also, the burn that leaves behind this empty loss in you, this sense that everything came to nothing after all. Like some of my other faves, it encapsulates the fear as a whole best imo

The Dark: Mr. Pitch. I recall Manuela was particularly distasteful towards this one, but I get it. Of course there’s the Pitch black of absolute darkness, but the “Mister” puts a childishness to it. Which is nice both because it’s heavily fed by children and the innate fear of the dark, but also the concept of the Dark as something that draws on the loss of a sense of comfort and control, the things you grasp blindly for like a child when you are losing it. No, thank you, Mr. Pitch. I’ll find my way back. My parents told me not to talk to strangers.

The End: The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored. Saying it in such a cumbersome and lengthy way feels sort of like the slow march towards death, exactly what the true horror of the fear is. Oh, I’m not scared of what happens after, not really so much anyway. The most compelling part of the fear to me is the moment: when it’ll come for you or me and how it’ll feel. The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored encapsulates that

[alltimefail-sims]

I thought what you said about using Granite Falls as part of your Moonwood Mood storytelling was an neat idea. I would be interested to hear more about that!

Sorry it took me a minute to type up the response to this ask; I would absolutely LOVE to expand on this, thank you so much for asking!! I will warn you that this ended up being quite a longwinded explanation of my personal Werewolf world lore, so I'm sorry about that in advance! 🙈😂

Let’s get into it! ↓

I've talked about how I don't treat sim worlds as isolated entities in the past, but I've never gotten deep into that - I'll start there so my Moonwood lore makes sense!

Basically, I see Granite Falls as a location within Moonwood Mill. To go one step further, I actually don't even see Moonwood Mill as its own isolated "world" but rather as a small town within a bigger city within a bigger state within a country and so on. Think of Granite Falls as a large property within Moonwood Mill, and Moonwood Mill as an industrial, dying small town that is within driving distance to its larger city counterpart Evergreen Harbor, and all of these places exist in the same state. For me, the states these worlds are a part of are usually real-life states! Of course not all the worlds feel "American" to me (Selvadorada, Tomorang, Mt. Komerebi being perfect examples) but the ones that do usually get categorized this way in my mind.

For example: San Sequoia and Del Sol Valley are the easiest and most widely accepted representation of this idea. I treat both of these "worlds" as large, neighboring cities that exist within the same state, much like their assumed real-world counterparts Los Angeles and San Francisco which both reside in California. Another example is San Myshuno which I've seen a lot of players think of in the same way they see New York City, which resides in New York State. Moonwood Mill, Granite Falls, and Evergreen Harbor all function this way in my mind and would all share the same state! (I'm not a geography whiz, so I've never given it much though which irl state they would be a part of, but with the greenery, industrial, and dreary/rainy vibes my money would be on Washington or, alternatively, I personally see them being in a state that falls somewhere in the Appalachian area, like West Virginia!)

Okay, that's the long explanation I had to get out of the way before I jump into this next lore part... sorry! I'm getting to the good stuff now though, I promise!

Granite Falls and Moonwood Mill are on an even smaller scale than the San Sequoia/Del Sol Valley relationship, in my opinion. To me, Granite Falls feels like a national park or forest/nature preserve that surrounds Moonwood Mill and therefore ultimately falls under their jurisdiction. HOWEVER, the primary caretakers of Granite Falls are technically an independent commune... better known as "The Moonwood Collective."

I don't think there's enough room in the town center of Moonwood Mill to accommodate two whole wolf packs AND the handful of human locals that remain. Additionally, when you take into consideration the canon growing tension between these two packs and their various different ways of life, I have a hard time seeing them effectively coexisting in such close proximity. Besides that, Modern Moonwood Mill in its broken down, industrial, haphazard state suits the Wildfangs more than The Moonwood Collective - I can see the influence that the Wildfangs have had on the area, but where is The Collective's influence? Even the layout of Moonwood Mill and the lots which are located within walking distance of the rowdy dive bar screams Wildfang energy to me.

We also know that The Collective is much older than the Wildfangs, as it was formed back when Moonwood Mill was just beginning to have settlers and refugees who were fleeing from conflict (the big magical war between spellcasters/vampires/werewolves). Referred to only as "Moonwood" back then due to the area's obvious connection to the moon's energy, the founders of the town established The Collective - in the sims lore, it seems to imply that The Collective is the first pack of its kind to organize werewolves into a hierarchal structure with the goal of encouraging self-sustainability, diplomatic communication, and communal contribution within its wolf members. In my mind, I've always seen The Collective as people who reject societal comforts and embrace naturalism, self-discipline/emotional control, herbalism and holistic medicine practices, minimalist living, homesteading, community caretaking, things of that nature... and there really isn't anywhere in Moonwood Mill specifically that conveys that kind of influence. Granite Falls, however, sure feels magical with its sprawling plantlife and natural oddities... that is a place that could support their lifestyle!

If you look at the maps of these two places, it isn't hard to imagine Granite Falls as the wooded area close to the Moonwood Lunvik Lake, the spot where werewolves can "awaken the wolf" if they swim there during a full moon, because Granite falls is surrounded by various bodies of water AND mountain structures on it's right side... just like the mountain structures and woods that frame Moonwood Mill in the upper left hand of its map! Let me give you two shitty graphics I made to help illustrate what I mean:

It's not a one-for-one perfect comparison, but it's so damn close that it feels natural to see the worlds as complimentary! Especially with The Collective's connection to the ancient spiritualism of the original wolves and mooncasters, it just makes sense that they would opt live in a commune-esque community on the outskirts of Moonwood Mill, as opposed to being right in the epicenter of town. This way they're close to the sacred Lunvik Lake, just far enough outside of society to seclude their true nature, but still close enough to help the remaining human locals. I even have a silly headcanon that the "Big Foot" of Granite Falls is actually just the pack-less werewolf Greg, as we know he lives secluded, deep in the forest...it just makes sense that people might see him raging in wolf form at night and be like "Oh shit, big foot!"

With the Wildfangs being a newer pack that is more open to embracing the wolf parts of themselves, they wouldn't feel the need to "hide" and pull themselves out of society in the way that The Collective does. That being said, they also wouldn't have the resources, structure, and defined communal space that a very old pack like The Collective would have... therefore they're just scattered around Moonwood Mill in their family homes, the trailer park (some people do a motel instead - I can see both working well), and so on. Some lots even tell their buyers to ignore the "howling in the distance," and because the Collective hides their true nature, I feel this must be referring to the Wildfang's full moon antics and their willingness to "embrace the beast."

Either way, It seems to me that The Collective has always believed it best to stay hidden, so it makes sense that they would form their community on the outskirts of Moonwood Mill not just for their own safety, but for the safety of the human locals as well. I think they likely relocated to Granite Falls years before the Wildfangs existed and when a huge uptick in human settlers came in, chasing the riches associated with Moonwood's mines or, more likely, the mills which the town would be eventually named after. But as time went on and the town went to ruin (some people theorize due to the wolves, some people theorize the town's natural industries just became less profitable in the age of technology), people abandoned it and opted to move to the newer city - Evergreen Harbor. (See, we came full circle!)

That kind of leads us to where I'm at in my game, in "modern day." A lot of time has passed, and Moonwood Mill has changed dramatically since its inception. I prefer to imagine that the remaining human locals are not fully aware of the werewolves living among them with 100% certainty, but there are legends and stories. The oldest locals cultivate and pass down not just the stories but the protective practices to their children and grandchildren as well: don't go into the woods on a full moon, if the woods get quiet out of nowhere stay calm and find the closest way out, close all the blinds when it gets dark, don't go out on a full moon, bring the animals in or secure them in the barn for their protection on full moon nights, if you hear a whistle in the woods do not whistle back, and so on. Unfortunately, those stories, wives' tales, and superstitions tend to attract potential enemies to werewolf-kind: rogue vampires seeking to harm werewolves and even occult hunters. HOWEVER, by retreating into the woods, The Collective are closer to what they believe is their spiritual source - Lunvik Lake - where the original mooncasters created werewolves and Myshupotamians worshipped the moon. By being closer to their source, they are strengthened and therefore able to keep out potential threats, protect their own pack, and watch over Moonwood Mill as a whole more effectively. I don't think the Wildfangs are particularly interested in this part of their Lyncanthropy - its something uniquely embeded in the history of The Collective and why it was created in the first place.

LASTLY, my Moonwood Mill/magic world in general is actually years ahead of where we start in game, and in my mind the magic world is on the precipice of another war (a long anticipated response after the destruction caused by Operation Eternal Flame. Vlad isn't one to take losses, and the Spellcaster/Vampire tensions are still very much palpable). I'm not going to get fully into all that, but I will say that the Wildfangs are a far more established pack, still led by their alpha, Rory (albeit a much older, wiser Rory) and The Collective is led by Rory's adoptive brother, Jacob Volkov, after their father (and former alpha of The Collective) Kristopher died. Although the tensions between the Wildfangs and The Moonwood Collective aren't as severe any more, they do still have trouble coexisting from an occult governance/council perspective. Again, I have a whole lore about occult governance as well, but I won't get into all that either haha. The TLDR is that there are two big issues between the Wildfangs and The Collective at the present moment: the first being how Rory has gone about growing the Wildfangs (by recruiting pack-less werewolves outside of Moonwood Mill, something The Collective has always been against since its inception) and second, their willingness to work with spellcasters if another occult war breaks out.

Okay... I'm done now! I'm cutting myself off! That may have been more than you were looking for...I'm truly sorry!!!

I hope I managed to answer your question (and some). Thank you for asking me about this, I literally never get to talk occult lore and it is one of my favorite things to explore in the sims!! I feel like no one cares about my occult headcanons and such... but sometimes that's all I want to talk about lmao. If I had the time and talent to make a story about this very topic, I WOULD! But for now this is all I have to offer <3

Thank you again for this ask, it made my week!!

[nofomogirl]

Before the Beginning (part 1.5.)

Part 1.1. | Part 1.2. | Part 1.3. | Part 1.4. |

Part 2.1. | Part 2.2. | Part 2.3. | Part 2.4. |

In this post, I'm going to wrap part 1 up and I won't lie, I'm really nervous. I feel like I've made a tall and wobbly tower of blocks and now I need to make something coherent out of it. Make all this rambling have a point.

Plus, I'll need to talk about Final Fifteen, and that's inherently nerve-wracking.

You say I've already written about it? Whole 9 posts about Metatron's manipulation, picking it apart step by step? Yes, I did. But that's the point - it was about Metatron. I skipped the worst part - the last conversation between Aziraphale and Crowley.

I couldn't avoid it forever. Let's scratch and poke at that wound.

Fair warning though: there won't be any stark revelations. I'm just processing things by writing about them.

Let's start with some facts. These are all hard canon:

Crowley used to be an angel

Aziraphale used to know him back then

They both remember it, at least partly

The Fall transformed Crowley

And these are not canonical facts, but relatively safe guesses:

They don't talk about it

Crowley avoids thinking about it

Aziraphale has no clue how Crowley feels about it

Honestly, it appears that Crowley's pre-Fall identity is more of a taboo for him than the Fall itself. Sure, the Fall is still a sore topic, and he doesn't exactly discuss it, but he is talking about it, if only a little bit, and on some occasions he even brings it up himself. But when his angelic past is mentioned he just refuses to go there. He shuts it down on the spot with no regard for the circumstances.

This exact happened in Final Fifteen, except this time Aziraphale wasn't just pointing out Crowley used to be an angel, he also suggested Crowley may become an angel.

Just look at the dialogue, especially Crowley's responses.

M: (...) it might be considered irregular, but it would certainly be within your jurisdiction to restore your friend, Crowley, to full angelic status. C: He said what? A: He said I could appoint you to be an angel. You could come back to Heaven and... and everything. Like the old times. Only even nicer. C: Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then? A: Not at all. C: Oh, we're better than that, you're better than that, angel! You don't need them. I certainly don't need them! Look, they asked me back to Hell, I said no. I'm not rejoining their team. Neither should you.

A lot of people pointed out how they were talking past each other the whole scene, not really hearing what the other was saying. I wholeheartedly agree and I think it started right here, with Crowley refusing to acknowledge and address what Aziraphale had said and ever so subtly - most likely unconsciously - steering the conversation away from the topic and into the miscommunication storm.

I mean, just look at what happened. In slow motion.

Metatron offered Aziraphale the job of the supreme archangel.

Aziraphale said No, I don't want to.

Metatron then altered the offer and said if Aziraphale took the job, he could turn Crowley back into an angel.

Problems start here.

S3 may change my mind but right now I am convinced Aziraphale doesn't really understand what the Fall was. He doesn't understand what it was objectively, and he doesn't understand what it means to Crowley personally. This is why Metatron's offer seems so attractive to him. He sees only pros and no cons. He cannot fathom what could be undesirable about it.

Metatron, on the other hand, knows much much more. That's why he feels safe making this seemingly generous offer - he knows it will cost him nothing because Crowley won't take it. Not only that, he knows the mere mention will trigger Crowley, and make him irrational. That in turn will upset and trigger Aziraphale thus making him more vulnerable and easier to manipulate.

Back to the scene.

Aziraphale goes to Crowley and reiterates Metatron's offer to him. He tells him that if he takes it, Crowley can be an angel again.

Now this is the important part. How does Crowley respond to it?

He immediately gets angry. Not amusingly annoyed or endearingly peeved, but properly angry.

And then he goes on a rant about why he and Aziraphale shouldn't rejoin their old sides. And that's... not entirely relevant.

For quite some time I couldn't figure out why Aziraphale's "Well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys" didn't upset me as much as it logically should. Sure, I'm Aziraphale's defender and apologist but this line is objectively unfair to Crowley. I should be disappointed and frustrated. So why would I feel like I wanted to agree with it, even though my brain clearly didn't?

Then it finally clicked. It wasn't what Aziraphale said, especially not the "you're the bad guys" part. It was about his tone. I could relate viscerally to how ridiculous he found Crowley's argument to be. Because honestly Crowley, baby, what are you talking about? What do you think you're proving to your angel here? How is the offer you were made to go back to Hell even remotely comparable?

Sure, they appear to be almost the same on the surface. Beelzebub told Crowley he could go back to Hell, and become a Duke. Metatron told Aziraphale he could go back to Heaven and become a Supreme Archangel. But that similarity disappears if - unlike Crowley - you don't conveniently take bits and pieces out of context but look at the whole thing.

Beelzebub's offer was that if Crowley helped them find Gabriel he would be allowed to go back to Hell and become a Duke. Metatron's offer was that if Aziraphale returned to Heaven and became the Supreme Archangel, he would be able to make Crowley an angel.

Rejoining his old side (with a promotion) was meant to be a prize for Crowley, but a price for Aziraphale.

Both of our ineffable spouses love Earth and given the absolute freedom of choice, they would like to live there forever. Preferably undisturbed by any supernatural institution in any way. I don't think anybody doubts that. Leaving Earth and getting involved with their former sides - no matter the rank - was the exact opposite of that, the exact opposite of what either of them wanted.

Crowley was offered that undesirable thing as a reward, so obviously he said no.

Aziraphale was offered that undesirable thing as a part of a package deal which also contained something he perceived as highly desirable, so obviously he considered it.

But Crowley reacted as if Metatron's offer was the same as Beelzebub's offer. As if it was all about Aziraphale being invited back to Heaven. He focuses on trying to convince the angel not to go, on explaining how Heaven isn't good at all, and finally on confessing and offering to run away together. He tries everything except responding to the actual offer and simply saying he doesn't want to be an angel.

I believe the main reason was what I listed among the safe guesses - that it was too difficult to talk or even think about. So he focused on the other part instead. It came easily because (a) anything that wasn't thinking about himself as an angel was great at the moment, and (b) the idea of Aziraphale leaning toward Heaven yet again was something he had strong feelings and opinions about.

Sadly, Aziraphale helped him steer the conversation away from the point with his response. The infamous "you're the bad guys. But Heaven... Well, it's the side of Truth. Of Light. Of Good."

I believe that was a point of no return beyond which the whole situation couldn't be saved. Not right then and there. Not without both of them stepping away and calming down. But somebody made sure they wouldn't be able to do it...

And the worst part is, I don't think there was all that much faith behind Aziraphale's words. I firmly believe he honestly wasn't interested in taking Metatron's offer unless Crowley went with him. But as he got unbalanced he fell into old mental grooves.

If you don't mind, I'll stop here. I neither have it in me to break apart the entire conversation (perhaps I'll face this monster one day but no promises) nor is it necessary for this series of posts.

The point of which - in case you've forgotten, which I, admittedly, made very easy for you - is that (1) Crowley was substantially transformed by the Fall, (2) he does not identify with his past angelic persona and is pretty much unable to think about himself in those terms, (3) Aziraphale severely underestimates the depth of the transformation, (4) has very little knowledge and understanding about Crowley's feelings on the entire matter, and (5) it let him to making a lot of assumptions.

Another thing I am not going to discuss here is what Aziraphale thinks he's offering Crowley. Perhaps the subject will get its turn one day. For now, suffice it to say, that what Aziraphale is offering - or rather what Metatron has offered - is most definitely NOT what Aziraphale believes it to be.

In the opening post, I pointed out that angel!Crowley didn't have any visible serpentine traits (he had brown eyes with regular round irises and he didn't have his sigil/tattoo), and I proposed a theory that it's supposed to hint at a lack of serpentine nature. That Crowley wasn't originally a snake but became one during or after the Fall.

If we look at Aziraphale's offer through these lenses, Crowley's unyielding rejection of it takes on a whole different meaning. It isn't about principles anymore or about Crowley's feelings getting hurt or his worth possibly being questioned. It isn't symbolic. It's very real.

The offer to restore Crowley to full angelic status very likely means a repetition of the Fall - a painful transformation that mangles the spirit and alters parts of a person beyond repair.

The offer to make Crowley an angel may very well mean the eradication of snake!Crowley.

I don't believe Aziraphale understands it.

Crowley couldn't bear thinking about it so he never talked about it.

Thus concludes part 1.

I am very emotionally tired.

Thank you for reading.

[ayyy-pee]

hello! I am incredibly in love with how you write!! I couldn't get enough of it then it hit me, I had an idea for a smut (if you're taking requests of course) wherein jujutsu and chainsaw man are in the same universe. reader is an jujutsu sorcerer who lives in a different district but had to come in tokyo since they have heard about some sightings of a cursed spirit they've been hunting down for months then somehow reader had ended up staying there for three months, since it's the public safety devil hunter's it is in their jurisdiction to accompany reader hence she was made to stay at the same apartment with the trio but in the last room in the same floor as them (some of the upper ups made the reader stay for further investigation). then there begins subtle glances that escalates to aki willingly helps reader in said investigation one day to hook ups every so often with the chances they can get since reader is only staying for three months. (after that it's up to you if you want it to evolve into a relationship or they made a pact that their hook up is only good for 3 months)

helloooooo sorry it took me a bit to get to this! I really REALLY enjoyed this prompt so I wanted to take my time with it (also I got busy with life asldkjs anyway). I really hope you like what I came up with!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

wc: 3.8k

warnings: smut, profanity, vaginal fingering, alley sex, mutual masturbation, needy aki, slight mention of violence, vaginal penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, sex sex sex, panty kink, aki steals your panties, he probably doesn't give them back

You sip your coffee on the balcony as you take in the early morning sunrise over Tokyo. You can hear the commotion just below, the jingle of the train calling passengers to board, planes zipping overhead. It’s so beautiful here despite the ugliness that lies within. Swallowing your drink, you sigh, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

Three months.

It’s been three months since you ended up stuck in this district of Tokyo. What business did a Jujutsu sorcerer have in the Public Safety Devil Hunter’s district anyway? One that required a shit ton of paperwork and temporary housing with an assigned chaperone until your business was finished.

And it was. You had completed your mission and it would only be a matter of time before they would be calling you to go back home. Three months ago, you would’ve been ecstatic to get right back out of this part of town. Now, the thought just makes you sad.

“You okay?” A deep voice brings you back to the present. You look up, dark blue eyes staring into your own curiously. “You spaced out when I was talking to you.” He lifts his own mug of coffee up to his lips, sipping the warm drink he’d made you both this morning. Always so kind, this one. You try not to stare back for too long, should your face start heating up the way it’s been lately when you two are alone.

“I’m good, Aki. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Just asking if you’ve heard from your higher ups?”

You chuckle quietly. “Why? Getting sick of me?”

Aki hums, a small smile spreading across his lips. His eyes still watch you as he plucks a cigarette he’s hidden from behind his ear. The smile soon falls as he rolls it around in his fingers, his intense gaze full of questions. 

“Now that you’ve exorcized your curse, what’s going to happen?” Aki asks, lips curling around his cigarette as he lights. 

“It’s not my curse. It’s just a curse,” you reply, shrugging as you turn your attention back to the city. “And I go home now…I guess.”

From the corner of your eye, you just barely make out the way Aki’s brows raise subtly. He schools his features quickly, nodding. “Right away? Or…? Is there paperwork involved that’ll keep you here?”

You shake your head. “Not for me. My higher ups will take care of it, so I’ll head home.”

“Got it.”

The silence lingers. And you let it. It gives you time to appreciate what you’ve gotten to experience here in this short time.

If you were to be grateful for anything the last few months, it’s that Aki was assigned to you as your chaperone. Your sudden appearance within the district threw a wrench in his plans, sure, but he accepted you as a new roommate regardless, though it was more an assignment for him at first than out of the kindness of his heart. Aki made it easy for you to adjust. He gave you a home when you needed one. He was cordial and respectful. It was a relief.

…It’s complicated with Aki now. There’s feelings involved. Your initial relationship began as colleagues of sorts, you accompanying each other when you had business to take care of. You because originally, you wanted to get rid of the curse as quickly as possible and go home. Aki, because he wasn’t allowed to let you out of his sight. This soon changed into friendship, getting lunch together, cooking dinner together. 

Dinner went from awkward and quiet conversation to loud laughs and shared smiles between you, Aki and his siblings. It became Aki brewing an extra cup of coffee in the morning for you. It became you packing Aki a home cooked meal when he had to go out and you weren’t required to be with him. Then it soon became small touches shared between you and Aki, hands brushing against each other when cooking together. Aki leaning over your shoulder to watch you stir what you were making and you’d swear you could feel his lips ghost over your skin before he was gone. It became stealing glances when you could and catching Aki watching you.

All this soon added up to shy advances between you both. Aki brushing his fingers over yours while you watched a movie on the couch together. Aki’s hand finding the small of your back to guide you whenever he’d hold a door open for you. You squeezing past Aki, sure to lightly rub your ass against his crotch when you bump into each other in the small space of the bathroom. You love the way he inhales sharply when you do it.

Weeks of this sexual tension builds up. It’s unbearable…for you anyway. Aki is as cool as ever as far as you can tell. You’re not sure where he stands. 

That is…until the day you finally encounter your curse in a dark alley. It’s got Aki backed against the wall, his sword tossed aside. The ugly thing is raising its disgusting claw into the air, snarling as it makes to bring its claw down on him. Aki lifts his hand up, shaping his fingers into what appears to be a fox in front of his eye. He opens his mouth to speak…only to see the curse’s head burst open as you shatter its skull with a swift kick. It lands on the other side of the alley with a nasty crunch.

You’re breathing harshly as you step towards Aki, watching as the curse disintegrates. But Aki is only focused on you, eyes darting all over your body like he’s trying to take inventory of any potential new markings or injuries. He steps closer to you, his hand coming up to lace his fingers through yours. It pulls your attention back to him.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, all of his worry dripping from his voice.

“No.” 

You see the relief wash over Aki.

“Good.”

And then he pulls you into him, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head as he looks down at you. You meet his gaze. There’s a question in them. You know what he’s asking, the confirmation when his eyes dart down to your lips. He’s waiting for an answer from you. And you give it to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down, lips crashing into his with fervor. 

It’s messy, desperate, like you’ve both been holding back your desire for this. And you have. Each smack of your lips together pulls a new sound from each of you. You, with your hushed sighs and soft moans. Aki, with his quiet grunts and deep groans. This is what the last few weeks have been building up to. Your hands exploring each other's bodies, pulling and grabbing at each other desperately.

Aki spins you both so that your back is pressed against the wall now, hands letting go of you so he can pull the skirt of your sorcerer uniform up.

“Is this okay?” He breathes against your lips. You nod.

“Yes, Aki,” his lips are slotted against yours again, just briefly. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

He bunches your skirt up at your waist, feels the hem of your panties and slides his fingers into the waistband. Aki breaks the kiss briefly to pull them down your legs, helping you maneuver your feet out of them until they’re completely off. You watch as he stands back up, holding your panties in his hand. His eyes are glued to the little fabric in his palm, one particular spot. He doesn’t say anything as he gently runs his thumb over the little slick spot at the center, eyes fluttering shut when he feels your arousal beneath his finger.

He pockets your panties a second later and then he’s back on you, tongue in your mouth when you gasp. You’ve been wanting this, dreaming about this, fantasizing about this moment with Aki. 

Aki slips his hand between your legs as he kisses along your neck, inhaling sharply when his fingers dip into your folds and finds you soaking wet. “God, you’re so ready for me,” he breathes against your skin. You whine quietly as Aki presses a finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles against you. “You could’ve died,” he sighs as he leans down, pressing hot kisses to your neck.

“Who cares? I didn’t,” you pant into the air, hands finding solace on Aki’s shoulders.

“I care. If you died, I’d never see you again.”

His fingers continue working your clit. And you’re turning into nothing but a messy puddle in his hand, slick dripping into his palm.

“You won’t see me again anyway. I’m leaving now that the curse is gone.”

"You could stay," he murmurs into your neck. You can hear the small plea in his voice. It pulls at your heartstrings. Because you could stay, but you won’t. You don’t belong here.

"Aki, don't make this more than what it is," you tell him, trying to sound stern, failing when your voice comes out shaky and weak. Aki pulls back to look at you and you could drown in those deep ocean eyes of his.

"Stay here with me." 

"You don't mean that." 

"I do. I've wanted to ask you to stay for weeks now. You belong here. With me." 

Aki kisses you again. It’s desperate. You can taste and feel all his desire and sadness poured into it. And you give it right back to him, all your desire and sadness and desperation. You kiss like this for a while, like it’s the last time before Aki pulls back to look at you again, takes one of your hands in his and presses your palm to his groin. His eyes flutter closed briefly when he feels you press against him. You can feel how hard he is beneath your palm. 

"Look what you do to me," he whispers, voice rough. You can’t help the moan that rushes past your lips when you feel his cock pulse in your hand. "Not just right now. Everyday,” Aki brings his face down, ghosting his lips over your cheeks, along your jaw, your lips as he speaks. “When I see you in the morning or before bed, I have to go back to my room and fuck my hand two, maybe three times just so I’m able to function for the day, so I can sleep at night,” He rocks his hips forward, quietly grunting. “I don't think you know the effect you have on me. How badly I've been wanting you, knowing I can’t have you."

Your eyes are shut, simply drowning in the feeling of Aki. You want him too. Badly. You’ve been wanting him for months now. Aki doesn’t know how badly you’ve been trying to keep it platonic between you both, even with the occasional teasing. He has no idea that at night, when the apartment is finally quiet, your hand slides into your panties with nothing but the thought of Aki on your mind.

“I want you, Aki,” you confess softly. You push him back gently, just enough that you can look into his eyes…and you can see through them, straight to his heart when you do. “Let’s have just this one time.”

Your hands glide down Aki’s chest, down his torso and to his belt, unbuckling it before you unbutton his pants and slide them and his boxers down just enough so you can pull his length out. You wrap your hand around him, squeeze gently and Aki whimpers, unable to stop himself from thrusting forward into your hand, desperate for your touch. His lips find yours, tongue quickly entering the warm cavern, your tongues tangling together. He’s big and so hot, so hard, so heavy in your palm. You can feel your arousal dripping down your leg in anticipation of Aki filling you completely. You run your thumb over the tip, already dripping with pre-cum, and use it to lubricate your hand as you stroke his length up and down.

“Ah - ngh, fuck,” Aki pants into your mouth. It makes you moan back into his as he slips a finger inside of you. He pumps into you once, twice, groans because you’re so fucking wet he easily slips two more fingers in.

You’re in your own bubble together, the outside world almost completely forgotten. Almost. You’re out in the open, essentially jerking each other off in a dark alley. You can’t be caught here, Aki with his hand between your legs and you with his cock in your hand. 

You break the kiss, gasping for air, your walls clamping down on Aki’s fingers. You’re so close already. Aki whimpers again when you separate, pressing his forehead to yours as he continues curling his fingers, hitting the exact spot that’s bound to send you over the edge at any moment. And you’re pumping his cock like your life depends on it as you softly murmur:

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

The words just barely leave your mouth before a moan rushes past your lips, the world blurring around you both in an instant.

And Aki is still pumping into you, you’re still stroking him. Your breaths are mingling together as Aki runs his nose along the bridge of yours, a string of curses leaving his lips as his hips rock forward into your hand. All these weeks of pent up frustration and desire for Aki are starting to come down on you, pooling right in your center where the coil is getting tighter and tighter, ready to snap any second.

And when Aki presses his lips to yours, not kissing you, just whining a needy, “Stay with me,” against your lips, it’s your undoing. Your mouth falls slack with a silent cry as your release rips through your body. You can hear and feel the gush of your orgasm against Aki’s hand, the obscene smacking of his palm meeting your core filling the air. You’re not sure you’ve ever cum so hard in your life just from someone fingering you.

Aki is still thrusting into your hand, groaning loudly against you, at how tight your walls are around his fingers. He’s close too. You can tell by the way his legs shake with each thrust into your hand. He kisses you roughly as he pulls his fingers out of you before he gently pulls your hand from his dick.

“Can I cum in you, baby?” He asks quietly, his own hand wrapping around his cock to use your slick as lubrication. His nostrils flare, jaw clenching as he tries to hold off his own release while he pumps his cock.

You nod. You want to feel him filling your walls, giving you all of him. “Yes, Aki. Give me everything.”

He moans your name, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hoist you up and you wrap your legs around him as he positions himself at your entrance. You’re watching each other, drinking in each other’s fucked out expressions and you think for a quick second that you really could stay here if it means you get to see Aki’s face looking like this everyday. But you can’t. You shake the thought away as quickly as it comes.

Aki lowers you down, pressing forward until just the tip sits inside you. It’s enough to make your pussy squeeze down in anticipation. Just the tip and he already feels so fucking good. He curses under his breath quietly before he leans forward and presses a kiss to your collarbone, then to the crook of your neck.

And it’s like Aki reads your mind because he groans, “You feel so fucking good already,” against your neck as he lowers you down to take more of him inch by inch until he’s fully sitting inside you. The weight of his cock in your walls almost makes you cum right then. It’s a perfect fit.

“Aki,” you whine as he bottoms out immediately, letting out a strangled groan as he wastes no time before he’s fucking into you at a relentless pace. The pleasure shoots up your spine as he stretches your walls over and over.

“Shit, my first and only time having this pussy and I already know I’m gonna miss it so…fucking…much,” Aki moans, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. You keen into the air, gripping onto his shoulders as he talks to you. It’s the only response you’re able to give while he’s fucking into you so hard, so good.

“You gonna miss my cock, baby?” 

“Yes, yes. ‘m gonna miss your cock so much,” you whine. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘m gonna miss you, Aki.”

He grunts at your confession, hips stuttering just a bit as his pace increases and you can feel the telltale signs of your second release coming. Your walls are fluttering, your breath is hitching, you’ve got a vice grip on Aki’s shoulders as he rocks his hips into yours. 

“You gonna cum again baby?” Aki’s hands find your ass, spreading your cheeks so he can further split you open, the loud sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the space of the veil.

“‘m gonna cum, Aki. Fuck, ‘m gonna–”

“Gimme another, baby,” Aki interrupts, groaning loudly. “Gimme another because I’m gonna cum, too.”

He pounds into you, licks a stripe up your neck and to your mouth. And the moment your lips touch, your walls spasm around Aki as your second release shoots through you. Then Aki’s hips are stuttering again and you can feel rope after rope of hot cum spilling into you as Aki pushes his cock as deeply as he can into you while you both whimper loudly into each other’s mouths.

Aki doesn’t stop thrusting even as you come down from your highs, fucking his cum back into you for as long as he can. He could probably go again, but he knows he shouldn’t. You’re already at risk of being caught here. When he finally halts his movements, he pulls back and looks you over, kissing you swiftly before he looks around, clearly confused.

“What is this?” He asks, lifting you up to pull out, hissing quietly when he feels your bodies disconnect. He sets you down on your feet and you look around as well. You’d almost forgotten you put it up.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s a veil,” you tell him as you fix your uniform. Aki gives you a look as if he wants you to further explain more. “It just keeps us hidden. Protected.”

Once Aki has fixed himself up, you drop the curtain. Aki retrieves his sword. He doesn’t ask anymore questions which works in your favor. He doesn’t make it awkward. You don’t talk about what just happened. Aki simply tells you “lets go home.” And you do, but not before asking for your panties back.

That was the first time you’d hooked up with Aki. You didn’t know you’d be stuck in the Devil Hunter’s district with him for weeks after you’d completed your mission. It was weird at first, because you’d fully intended to cut ties with Aki and go back home. But for some reason, your higher ups made you stay.

The awkwardness of adjusting to still living with Aki after sleeping together in a dirty, dark alley soon faded and quickly turned into quick hookups whenever you got the chance. It went from pretending nothing happened to Aki bending you over the bathroom sink in the mornings before Denji and Power got up, you sucking Aki off under his desk at the office, Aki practically fucking you through the mattress every night then you sneaking back to your own room in the morning before Denji and Power woke up. You were sure they knew what was going on. You both weren’t particularly quiet and sneaking back to your room soon turned into you sleeping in Aki’s bed, wrapped in his arms every night.

Every night with Aki brought you two closer, brought you to where you are right now. Sitting in silence on the balcony, drinking the coffee Aki made you while he reads his newspaper and you take in the hustle and bustle of the city below you.

Inside the apartment, the phone rings.

“I’ll get it,” you tell Aki, standing and making your way inside.

You cross through the living room, to the kitchen and pick up the phone from where it’s mounted on the wall. “Hello?”

You hear your name from the other end. It’s one of your higher ups assistants. “Sorry for the delay on this. Now that everything has been reviewed and your mission has been completed, we’ve received word you can return. Would you like to come back today? Or do you need time to get your belongings together?”

You’d never really unpacked in the first place. You lived out of your suitcase. You hadn’t brought much with you to begin with: a couple sets of your uniform, a few casual outfits and sleepwear. But lately, you’ve found yourself lounging around and sleeping in Aki’s large t-shirts, wearing his button ups on casual days out, sometimes letting him treat you to an outfit he sees you eyeing when you’re out and about. They’re all hanging in his closet.

Your gaze falls to the kitchen sink, full of dishes and you roll your eyes because it was Power’s turn to wash them last night. Of course she didn’t, though. You’ll have to literally wrestle her later to do them.

You’ll miss her when you’re gone, aggravating as she may be sometimes. You’ve grown pretty fond of her. And Denji. He sees you more like he sees Power. He no longer tries to “accidentally” catch glimpses of you changing or stare at your chest when you’re all together. Denji considers you a friend more than anything.

Then there’s Aki.

Your gaze lifts back up, catching him eyeing you through the window. And there’s something in his stare that makes your heart leap. There’s adoration in those dark blue eyes of his. He’s looking at you like you hang the moon and every star in the sky just for him. And there’s fear in them, too. Like if you go out there and tell him what he thinks you’re going to tell him, he’ll shatter into a million pieces before you.

“Hello? Are you there?” The assistant on the other end calls. Aki looks away, now staring out over the city. If he looked back, he’d probably see that you look at him like he hangs the moon and every star in the sky just for you.

“Actually, can you send over some transfer paperwork? I think I’m gonna stay.”

Tags: @ficti0nalslxt @getousbabymama @mykyoon @gloomiigloom @xocreedvo @alpacapum @athenaholmesher @nobody289x @sukunasseventhfinger @rumi-rants @Sacvh @suguju @watyousayin @nothisispatrick300

[lucica-stuff]

Dragon Hierarchy

So, the last few weeks I've been pretty sucked in by the HTTYD fandom. I've always been a fan, but this time it's gotten really bad 😅.

And rewatching the movies/shows, reading the many fanfics on ao3 and writing my own stuff for it (that I'm probably never gonna post), made me think of something. How are dragon hierarchies structured?

Since there doesn't seem to be much information canon-wise about it, I've made up my own headcanons. And I'm interested in further discussions.

1. King

Or as we know it, The Alpha. The highest position in the dragons' hierarchy. We know that the Bewilderbeast is the 'The King of Dragons'. According to fandom.wiki, the dragons under his care are called 'Primals'. Every dragon, including Queens, falls under his jurisdiction.

They are described as providers, protectors and, as we know, possess the unique abilty to manipulate other dragons' minds, which is why they naturally become alphas in the hierarchy (keep in mind that this doesn't need to be the case e.g. Toothless). The position can only be earned through challange, but due to the Bewilderbeasts behavior and personality traits, such challanges are not likely to happen. A dragon can only become King/Alpha if they have won the challange against a Bewilderbeast, although they don't get the species-specific abilities.

Furthermore, since Bewilderbeasts are actually described as a rather reclusive type of dragon, they don't take much part in their nest's daily life. Exception to this could include: providing food/shelter and settling disputes. But otherwise, they don't do much.

2. Queen

They rule over a nest of dragons. Like the King, their job is to protect the dragons within their nest, but in comparision to the King their main job is to nurture. Their job is to take care of the nest's inhabitants. I would like to call them 'Life Givers', so you can better picture what I'm trying to get at.

The Queen of a nest is usually the strongest and most nurturing dragon, who has proven that they are able to provide the best (e.g. the Fireworm Queen). They are either appointed or become the Queens by nature. Queens are usually female because of their natural instincs to nurture their nest and take on the role of 'Mother to All', but a male dragon can also become Queen if they have proven themselves (this does not mean that they are a King).

I would like to point out that the Red Death is an exception of this, not the rule. I believe that the Red Death (as a species) has similiar abilities to the Bewilderbeast or the Death Song, but in contrast to the Bewilderbeast, they don't have the ability to manipulate/command other dragons. The Red Death from httyd1, used fear to abuse her abilities and position as Queen to get the dragons within her nest to do her bidding.

3. Nest

Which is ruled either by a King or a Queen, consists of a flock (or many flocks) of dragons. These nests are made up of different dragon species, where either a pack/herd of dragons join or a solitary dragon joins for survival benefits.

Nests may be formed for the benefit of many different species.

4. Herds/Packs

Some dragons are not suited for solitary life, which is why they form packs or herds. It's for survival as well as socialazing.

Packs or herds may appoint a dragon as their leader, but it's not required. Furthermore, they may also decide to join a nest to gain benefits.

5. Solitary Dragons

Some examples to which dragon species form packs or herds.

Herds: Thunderdrums, Smothering Smokebreaths, Terrible Terrors, Gronkles, Razorwhips

Packs: Changewings, Night Terrors, Dramillions, Speed Stingers

As we know - mostly from the shows/series - that some dragons far more enjoy a more solitary kind of life.

However, they may decide to join a nest or form a flock with other dragons. A good example for this is the Monstrous Nightmare or the Hideous Zippleback, which we have seen either lives solitarily or joins other dragons for survival advantages. This depends on how social their species is.

Boneknapper Dragon/Armorwing

Typhoomerang

Death Song

Skrill

Cavern Crasher

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[thecreaturecodex]

Sahkil Tormentor, The Vermilion Mother

"RedQueen v.2" © ArtStation user Dalisa Art, accessed at their page here

[Sponsored by @alquitranofmystara. The Vermilion Mother is not the first sahkil tormentor I've written, but she is the first canon one. I've seeded this entry with a lot of references to my original works. The name I give as her true name, Mystricia, is the genus name for the nutmeg tree, which is potently toxic and hallucinogenic.]

Sahkil Tormentor, the Vermillion Mother CR 25 NE Outsider (extraplanar) This creature appears to be a horrifying combination of crone and carnivorous plant the size of a small tree. Her face is contorted into a horrible rictus and her skeletal wooden limbs end in terrible claws. Her hair is a sea of fronds, each one of which ends in a red bud that opens to reveal a fanged mouth.

Vermilion Mother Bloody Blossom, Mystricia, The Red Weed Concerns fecundity, overgrowth, psychoactive plants Domains Charm, Evil, Plant, Weather Subdomains Decay, Fear, Growth, Lust Worshipers drug addicts, evil druids, sarmaks Minions beldams, plant monsters, sahkils (especially pakalchis and qoloks) Unholy Symbol a hand covered in creeping red tendrils Obedience Ingest a toxic plant, or sow the seeds of a toxic plant in a place intended to be safe. Gain a +4 profane bonus on Fortitude and Will saving throws against effects from plants or plant creatures. Boons 1: sickening entanglement 2/day; 2: curse terrain 2/day; 3: green caress 2/day

The Vermilion Mother is the sahkil tormentor that represents the fear that animals have of losing control to plants. Everything to an annoying weed making a noble’s lawn ugly to that same noble getting addicted to opium and running their province into the ground is under her jurisdiction. As such, her cult has an unusual makeup. Many of her followers are druids who wish to use plants to overrun and destroy unnatural edifices. Others are hedonists seeking out new and unusual highs, who often become junkies that pray to her to make their trips longer and their side effects less severe. Perhaps the strangest of her worshipers are a cult of sarmaks, which consider one of the plants native to their planet, the ground-creeping red weed, as a physical embodiment of the Vermilion Mother’s influence.

The Vermilion Mother enjoys making combats with her drawn out and painful. Whenever she chooses, she is surrounded by an aura of grasping, hindering vegetation that she can move effortlessly through, and often isolates foes further with quickened walls of thorns. Her gaze causes a profound ennui, and creatures who see her often simply give up and let her tear them limb from limb. Her breath is a potent hallucinogen, and those affected have strange and terrifying hallucinations before they fall into a coma, their perceptions locked completely within their own body. Her claws break off and reform in the flesh of her victims, creating runners of razor-sharp vines that erupt into bonethorns once they have stripped away enough muscle and other tissue.

The Vermilion Mother’s true name is Mystricia, which is a closely guarded secret known only to her closest allies. The Vermilion Mother is the eldest of a trio of allied neutral evil demigods which act as something between a witches’ coven and a family. The other two are the daemonic harbinger Decied and the green (wo)man Briarpatch, both of whom also delight in ecological devastation and the introduction of new and strange lifeforms to an area. Although the Vermilion Mother is oldest, she is not the most powerful, but her advice and experience are respected by both of her fellows. She and Mahathallah have similar purviews and a cordial, but distant relationship.

The Vermilion Mother       CR 25 XP 1,640,000 NE Huge outsider (evil, extraplanar, sahkil) Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., greensight, Perception +42, tremorsense 120 ft. Aura overgrowth (100 ft.), unholy (DC 28)

Defense AC 43, touch (-2 size, +1 dodge, +8 Dex, +22 natural, +4 deflection) hp 565 (29d10+406); fast healing 15 Fort +27, Ref +28, Will +30; +4 vs. mind-influencing effects, paralysis, polymorph, sleep, stunning DR 20/epic and good; Immune charm, compulsion, death effects, disease, fear, poison; Resist cold 30, electricity 30, sonic 30; SR 41 Defensive Abilities floronic, freedom of movement

Offense Speed 50 ft., climb 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +42 (2d6+15/19-20 plus grab and implant), 4 bites +42 (1d6+15/19-20 plus bleed) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks bleed (1d6),breath weapon, look of fear, rend (2 claws, 2d6+22), spirit touch Spell-like Abilities CL 25th, concentration +35 Constant—freedom of movement, unholy aura (self only) At will—blasphemy (DC 27), charm monster (DC 24), confusion (DC 24), control plants (DC 28), fear (DC 26), greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs only), nightmare (DC 27) 3/day—green caress (DC 27), empowered horrid wilting (DC 28), mind fog (DC 25), serenity (DC 28), quickened waves of fatigue, quickened wall of thorns 1/day—control weather, dominate monster (DC 29), overwhelming presence (DC 31), rival’s weald (DC 29), summon sahkil (any of CR 20 or lower, 100%), weird (DC 31)

Statistics Str 40, Dex 27, Con 38, Int 25, Wis30, Cha 31 Base Atk +29; CMB +46 (+50 grapple); CMD 69 Feats Blind-fight,Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Dodge, Empower SLA (horrid wilting), Improved Critical (bite, claw), Improved Initiative, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (waves of fatigue, wall of thorns), Staggering Critical, Stand Still, Step Up, Stunning Critical Skills Bluff +42, Climb +38, Heal +42, Intimidate +42, Knowledge (arcana, geography, religion) +36, Knowledge (nature, planes) +39, Perception +42, Sense Motive +42, Stealth +32 (+40 in wooded areas), Survival +42, Swim +31; Racial Modifiers +8 Stealth in wooded areas Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Druidic, Infernal, speak with plants, Sylvan, telepathy 300 ft. SQ easy to call, emotional focus, freeze (as tree), sahkil tormentor traits, skip between

Ecology Environment any land (Ethereal Plane) Treasure double standard Organization unique

Special Abilities Bleed (Ex) Bleed damage from the Vermilion Mother’s bites stacks with itself. On a critical hit, the bleed becomes 1 point of Constitution bleed instead. Breath Weapon (Ex) The Vermilion Mother can breathe a 60 foot cone of toxic powder once every 1d4 rounds. Creatures caught in the area are exposed to the following poison: Vermilion Powder—contact; save Fort DC 38; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; effect 1d8 Wisdom damage; cure 1 save. A creature that is suffering ability damage from vermilion powder hallucinates and babbles. It treats all creatures it can see as having concealment, and has a 20% chance to fail to speak correctly, including command words and spell components. The save DC is Constitution based. Floronic (Ex) The Vermilion Mother gains a +4 racial bonus on saving throws against mind-influencing effects, paralysis, polymorph, sleep and stunning effects. Implant (Su) Each time the Vermilion Mother deals damage with its claw attacks, its victim must attempt a DC 38 Fortitude save to avoid becoming infested by its seeds. If the victim fails, the seeds sprout into vines that swiftly propagate through its body, erupting from wounds and ripping through undamaged flesh, dealing 2d12 points of slashing damage per round at the start of the infected creature’s turn. An implanted creature can remove the vines with any spell or effect that cures disease, and the vines die if the host takes 20 or more points of fire damage in a single attack. A creature that has a skeleton and that dies while implanted is consumed over the course of 2d6 rounds, after which a new fiendish bonethorn under the Vermllion Mother’s control rises from the remains. A new bonethorn created in this manner from a Large or larger body can animate only a Medium-sized portion of the skeleton, resulting in strange, partially skeletal hosts that have similar statistics to a bonethorn grown from a humanoid host. Burning or otherwise completely destroying the victim’s body before the spores complete their consumption prevents it from becoming a new bonethorn. This is a disease effect. The save DC is Constitution-based. Look of Fear (Su) 30 ft.; Will DC 36, shaken 1 hour. A creature that succumbs to the Vermilion Mother’s look of fear is filled with ennui and cannot take actions. It can make a DC 36 Will save each round to remove the ennui effect, but is still shaken if it succeeds this save. The save DC is Charisma based and includes a +2 racial bonus for the Vermilion Mother’s emotional focus. Overgrowth Aura (Su) The Vermilion Mother is surrounded by a dense network of magical vegetation in a 100 foot radius. This functions as the overgrowth effect of the plant growth spell, except that it moves with the Vermilion Mother. Creatures with the plant type and sahkils can move through this foliage normally. The Vermilion Mother can suppress or resume this aura as a swift action. Sahkil Tormentor Traits (Ex/Su) The Vermilion Mother is a powerful unique sahkil. She gains access to the following abilities

Immunity to charm and compulsion effects, death effects, disease, fear effects and poison

Resist cold 30, electricity 30 and sonic 30

Telepathy 300 ft.

The Vermilion Mother’s natural weapons, as well as any weapons she wields, are treated as epic and evil for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction

Once per day, the Vermilion Mother can summon any sahkil of CR 20 or lower with 100% chance of success

The Vermilion Mother can grant spells, as listed in her divine information

Speak With Plants (Su) The Vermilion Mother can speak with plants, as per the spell, at will as a supernatural ability.

[avoicebehindthestars]

Take your coffee or take death

Many of us have suspected Aziraphale went back to heaven to somehow protect Crowley - either by restoring his angelic status or simply complying with the Metatron's orders. And don't get me wrong, this is my go-to theory, rather than the different variations of the coffee theory, the "they talked", "they swapped" etc theories.

But what if the threat was instead this:

"Return to your duties, or lose your angelic status and become mortal."

I think the Metatron doesn't have much power over Crowley - the demon falls under Hell's jurisdiction. But he can punish Aziraphale. In fact, why should the angel still enjoy the perks of his angelic status when he has quit the job?

And now Aziraphale is facing either eternal separation from Crowley (he doesn't know about the Second Coming yet, so we can safely assume he sees his new posting as everlasting) or dying in his demon's arms in some 30-40 years. Which of the two would break the demon more? Kind of makes me think of a terminally ill person who breaks up with their beloved to spare them the pain of watching their final days.

Of course, Aziraphale doesn't tell any of that to Crowley, as the second season established in no uncertain terms that neither of the Husbands is willing to upset the other with news of potential threats (Crowley withholds the news of his meeting with Beez, Aziraphale conceals his with Shax).

At this point Aziraphale has no choice but to cling desperately to one last hope - that Crowley might come with him. At this point that's the only way they can be together without Aziraphale dying as a mortal. He's driving the point hard, idealising the perspective, not because he doesn't realise how toxic heaven is and how much they had harmed both Crowley and him, but because that is their only chance at at least a semblance of happiness.

When Crowley refuses, Aziraphale falters. Perhaps several decades together are worth more than eternity apart, after all…? But it would indubitably shatter Crowley's heart when he learnt the aftermath of his rejection. So, he perseveres. And finally, he hears of the Second Coming and realises: if he hadn't accepted his posting, he wouldn't have several decades. The new Apocalypse would happened within years, if not months, and neither of them would be in a position to intervene. He had made the right choice after all. And whether he sees any chance of getting back to Crowley (I think he does - after all, organising an Apocalypse must demand visits to Earth), he will make heaven pay the price for their pain.

I'm not sure how this theory relates to Aziraphale's bitter "I forgive you". I'm open to hearing anyone's thoughts.

[guriyuri]

I’m In Love With the Villainess/「私の推しは悪役令嬢」

(Literal translation: My Oshi is the Villainess.)

🌸 8/10 🌸

Ordinary office worker Rei Oohashi wakes up one day to find herself as Rae Taylor, the heroine of her favorite otome game, Revolution. Surrounded by attractive men all vying for her attention would be any maiden's dream—but that is not the case for Rae! None of them can hold a candle to the villainess, Claire François, whose blonde, drill-shaped ringlets only accentuate her haughty irresistible charm. In the original story, Claire harasses and bullies the heroine, which drives the latter closer to the male love interests. But Rae has no intention of pursuing any of the men; her heart is set on Claire herself! Unused to being on the receiving end of affection, Claire is left at the mercy of Rae's endless teasing. With the power of true love, can Rae successfully convey her heartfelt feelings to the villainess?

(MAL Rewrite)

If I were held at gunpoint to assemble a crate of my most outstanding, bountifully nutritious crops of yuri harvested throughout my many years ploughing fields and milling earth as a humble yuri farmer this would definitely be in there. ‘Watashi no Oshi wa Akuyaku Reijou’ stands out to me as one of the funnest yuris to read. The main beef of the manga falls within the jurisdiction of the characters themselves and their world rather than a greater metacommentary, which allows you to just veg out a little and not feel like your about to explode your brain matter all over your screen. BUT it also does a very good job investing you into the plot so you can still sink into it and immerse yourself. The gimmick of Isekai and a simple but underexplored concept makes the world and storyline easy to comprehend and flows very well throughout the entire manga. I don’t want to spoil too much, nor do I feel it vitally important to discuss anything specifically about themes and characters so I won’t elaborate too much.

TL;DR: really really really really really solid

[kipsels]

Empire

Jing Yuan x Stelle

Arranged Marriage AU

“Your Highness, look, the palace!”

Stelle barely heard March’s exclamation as the young woman pointed excitedly out the window towards the towering fortress that came into view.

Its golden, arching rooftops glistened under the bright sunlight, powerful and imposing against a backdrop of blue.

Xianzhou Palace was a beautiful cage, Stelle thought to herself dismally. One that would soon become her own prison.

Stelle’s hands twisted between the layers of tulle and silk that made up her skirt, her chest heaving against the pressure of her corset. Her gloves clung uncomfortably to her sweaty palms, and she wondered what would happen if she were to simply leap from the carriage and run.

She had heard the jurisdiction of the Luofu was an amenable place to start a small business, perhaps she could start a new life within the city itself rather than committing herself to this- this farce.

Stelle had never wanted to be a princess, she wanted even less to be a bargaining chip to ensure allegiance with the neighbouring empire.

And yet by some cruel twist of fate, here she was. Worth no more than the dowry she brought to a man she had not yet met.

A sigh passed her lips, knowing any daydreams of escaping were greatly hindered by her finery. If only she had been allowed to wear something a little more freeing, perhaps she would have had a better chance–

The carriage came to a stop, and Stelle found herself being ushered out to face the main entrance to the palace. Conscious of the chidings she would receive from her entourage, she tried her best not to squint as a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

Flanked on each side by a row of guards, their clothes were blinding in the sunlight, each step forward digging the dread deeper into her heart.

“The Divine Foresight, Emperor Jing Yuan, humbly greets his honoured guests,” A herald cried, and Stelle’s blood turned cold.

She gasped as Emperor Jing Yuan descended from the last few steps, the drapes of his hanfu gracefully falling down the lengths of his body. Swathes of silver and maroon silk gathered in layers and layers, and yet it did nothing to hide his impressive stature.

He appeared to be somewhere in his late thirties, his handsome features framed by his thick, snowy white hair. There was a calmness in his presence that felt infallible- something that Stelle could never hope to replicate.

And from behind that curtain of fair hair shone warm eyes and an even warmer smile.

Stelle’s jaw dropped to the floor.

She was certain she heard March nervously squeak from behind her.

In her imagination, Jing Yuan had been a decrepit old man, or a weaselly youth.

She had never entertained the idea that he would be anything like the man that stood before her.

“It is an honour to meet you, my princess.” His deep voice very nearly purred with a familiarity that was not suited towards strangers.

A shiver curled down her spine at the sound.

“Emperor,” Stelle managed to greet, her tongue turned to cotton in her mouth.

Stiltedly, she lowered herself into a curtsey, eyes downcast.

“Please,” He chuckled, and Stelle lifted her eyes towards him, “There is no need for such formalities. ‘Husband’ will do just fine.”

Stelle swallowed.

“But we are not yet wed,” She responded dumbly.

“Not yet. But it is only a matter of time, no?” Jing Yuan answered charmingly.

He shocked her as he closed the distance between them, his hand outstretched towards her.

Stelle’s heart stilled, the weight of her choice heavy on her shoulders. A large part of her still wished to run, to escape her fate and find her freedom, the damages it would cause be damned.

This was never what she had wanted, and it never would be.

But as she looked down at his hand, at the calluses that marred his fingers and his palm, another part of her whispered that perhaps she would be safe in his embrace.

A deep breath, and she placed her hand in his.

“Stelle.” He smiled, his fingers curling around her, clasping their palms together in an unbreakable promise.

Jing Yuan raised their clasped hands as he bowed, his lips brushing over her knuckles.

“It is my honour to welcome you to your new home.”

- Fin -

[mako-designated-driver]

Codex Entry #54: Battleground State

It seems a bitter twist of fate to discover that half of Thedas does not consider my homeland a nation at all. Qunari maps depict the island as part of their territory, without any ambiguousness to the claim. I can only assume this is because all islands within the Boeric Ocean naturally fall under their jurisdiction. The Tevinter maps, meanwhile, still proudly show the entire island as part of the Imperium, even though Imperial control outside of small pockets is little more than fiction and changes whenever the Qunari return their attention to the area.

Imperial reports speak of "Fog Warriors" as if we are beasts, little better than darkspawn or dragons. "Dangerous element of the wilderness, best avoided or eliminated, but ultimately of no consequence." It angers me to read these things. Ours is a land that has been shaped by war, as no other. Long ago the Imperium came, and after centuries of trying and failing to turn us into compliant Imperial citizens, the Qunari came instead. They conquered Seheron and attempted to convert us. Neither side succeeded in taking our freedom. And though battle after bloody battle have ground our ancient halls of wisdom practically to dust, we still dream of the land that was.

The fog dancers who travel with each band of warriors regale them with the legends of old and keep the songs our people alive. They say that the griffons of the Grey Wardens came from Seheron. They tell us of the ancient Curse of Nahar that brought the fog, and the promise that will one day lift it. They speak of the March of Four Winds, of the lost people who fled to the northern islands and the great heroes who learned at the feet of elves.

Are the old tales true? We may never know. All that remains of the land Seheron once was is gone. But I know we will make them true someday.

—From A Land of Fog by Brother Ashor Vell

[sugarsnappeases]

gnawwww rawrr rawr give me more rodolphus meta i am starving

hello my beloved atlas thanks so much for asking i will try my level best to satiate your hunger ❤️

i think we should talk about voldemort actually. i think it’s time. so. as i said yesterday, i think rodolphus (and also antonin) were both some of the earlier people to join the death eaters (around 1970, when tom comes back to england and like. soft launches his war). to me, rodolphus works his way up the ranks very quickly. like he’s determined, and ambitious, and when he sets his mind to a task he gets it done one way or another. and he’s set his mind to the task of voldemort’s cause (he also started off pretty high in the ranks just bc of his family name and connections etc)

tom likes him bc of the aforementioned characteristics but also bc he’s like. solid. strong. reliable. he knows what he’s about. he’s someone that could be put in a bit of leadership position in the death eaters (bc as i said before. he’s basically a poster boy for them, like in all aspects of his life even if he complains about or disagrees with certain things he’ll still ultimately follow through and obey the expectations or orders)

i think he and tom meet through family. in the hbp pensieve memories, a lestrange is mentioned specifically by surname in the slug club meeting. i don’t think this is rodolphus’ father, bc i have Opinions about tom’s gang back at hogwarts and whether the heirs of the pureblood houses would ever have been able to fall in line with someone who they had known in first year as a shabby, no-name orphan w an unknown blood status. but i think maybe this lestrange is an uncle? or something of the sort to rod and rab and when rodolphus takes over as lord, this uncle falls under his jurisdiction or whatever and mentions it to rod when tom gets back to england or something like that

and rodolphus takes his responsibilities as lord very seriously so he’s investigating everything that his family is involved in, he’s setting up a meeting w tom. i reckon the uncle isn’t a very high level death eater but he tells tom that his nephew, the lord lestrange wants to meet and it happens fairly quickly after that. for tom, it’s a good point of entry into the younger generation of pureblood society, the ones who, unlike some of their parents, didn’t know him before he became lord voldemort, the ones that he can much more easily turn into a part of his army.

and rodolphus goes. obviously. he goes and meets tom and they chat and they see very eye to eye. tom is very good at appealing exactly to what his interlocutor desires and its no different w rodo, he’s investigated a little pre-meeting, figured out what rodolphus wants and leans into it while they talk. and rodo sees a release, something he can use as an outlet for all the emotions that he has to keep under the surface. and he also obvs sees it as like. an important task, the destruction and removal of muggleborns from his beautiful pureblood society, a worthy cause.

in the first war, i think rodo has a lot of power within the death eaters. he was basically the first in his generation to join up so through him people like lucius and the carrows and obvs bella and also importantly rabastan all join up as well (and this is another thing. to me rab isn’t made for fighting. he hates getting his hands dirty. he should be at the club. like genuinely. and i mean club in the sense of a gentleman’s club or something of the like. but he joins bc of rodolphus). he’s the first link to the new gen death eaters which eventually leads to the likes of barty evan and reg as well

and obvs during the first war, lucius sort of acts as right hand man (this is another thing that i can go in to) and i think rodolphus is the left hand. if that makes sense. he’s got the family name and the connections and the sociopolitical power but he’s also got the drive and the slightly twisted desires, the thirst for violence that tom would’ve absolutely fed on and nurtured and expanded until it consumed him whole. until the death eaters, by dint of being a release or something of the sort, become the most important part of his life. become the sort of thing that he would sacrifice his life for (in terms of azkaban being that life sacrifice).

like seriously. he goes to azkaban THREE times for voldemort. THREE TIMES. and he remains loyal to the very end. he never even wavers in it. and that’s very important to me. he is very important to me i think about him far too much.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Okay so so terribly sorry for being an insufferable person but. if you comment one of my posts with “[Sigma is] innocent on the basis of the casino being exempt from international laws” I'm literally obliged to correct you, I'm sorry, I physically can't ignore it, it's literally the object of study of my life. Saying that no international laws apply here is just factually incorrect! Twice at that!

First: it's absurd to suppose the sky casino has its own state jurisdiction on the basis that in no word you can consider the sky casino a state. According to the Montevideo Convention of 1933, art. 1:

The state as a person of international law should possess the following qualifications: a) a permanent population; b) a defined territory; c) government; and d) capacity to enter into relations with the other states.

Sky casino fails to fulfill any of these criteria, and thus cannot be considered a state with its own jurisdiction. I don't think there's any need for me to elaborate on why the sky casino lacks a permanent population (its “population” consists of transitory customers), or a government (there's barely anything that can be considered legislature or executive and definitely no judiciary), or the capacity to enter into relations with the other states (we don't have any reason to assume it does). Finally, the sky casino platform cannot be considered a territory on the same basis that artificial islands aren't considered islands: for that we can refer to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, art. 60, par. 8:

Artificial islands, installations and structures do not possess the status of islands. They have no territorial sea of their own, and their presence does not affect the delimitation of the territorial sea, the exclusive economic zone or the continental shelf.

Please also refer to the case of Sovereign Recognition of the Principality of Sealand, where the Principality's characteristic of being a World War Two anti-aircraft platform located within Britain's territorial waters makes it the perfect analogous case to compare to the sky casino; the platform's sovereignty isn't formally recognized by any country.

Concerning which jurisdiction the sky casino actually falls under, first of all we can refer to the Convention on International Civil Aviation, art. 1:

The contracting States recognize that every State has complete and exclusive sovereignty over the airspace above its territory.

So the sky casino's jurisdiction is the one of the state underneath it (most likely Japan).

In case the sky casino lies above high seas (all the sea spaces out of any country's jurisdiction), by the shared analogy between legal regime of sea spaces and airspaces, we can again refer to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, art. 92, par. 1:

Ships shall sail under the flag of one State only and, [...] shall be subject to its exclusive jurisdiction on the high seas.

So it'd be the jurisdiction of the country the sky casino is associated to, for example the one it was built in.

Second: no person, no matter their country or lack or thereof, no matter the jurisdiction they were subject to at the moment of the crime, is extent from international laws. Individuals are considered by the international law doctrine having international legal personality (together with other personalities, such as nations and international organizations) on the exact basis that, besides benefiting from international rights, they also have obligations in front of the international law, and those duties are exactly the duty to not commit international crimes (International Military Tribunal of Nuremberg, 1946 Judgment: “International law imposes duties and liabilities upon individuals as well as upon States”; “Crimes against international law are committed by men, not by abstract entities, and only by punishing individuals who commit such crimes can the provision of international law be enforced”).

Everyone is subject to international laws no matter the jurisdiction; it's just that no one realizes it because to actually commit international crimes means you have to screw up real bad (i.e. : commit crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes). Everyone being subject to international laws with no exceptions is. a huge thing. It means people will be held accountable even when their country decides not to process them. It permits‚ for example‚ the International Criminal Court to issue a warrant of arrest for the current president of Russia, despite we can take a guess that he'd never be processed by his country.

In conclusion: you can't say Sigma is extent from international laws, because no jurisdiction or person is extent from international laws. If anything, what you can do is argue he never committed any international crime, although that'd be hard on its own to sustain; the UN General Assembly condemned terrorism in its resolution 49/60, 1994:

Criminal acts intended or calculated to provoke a state of terror in the general public, a group of persons or particular persons for political purposes are in any circumstance unjustifiable, whatever the considerations of a political, philosophical, ideological, racial, ethnic, religious or any other nature that may be invoked to justify them

not to mention he likely would have to answer for counterfeit coin too.