#that's the best way i could describe them

[cafeleningrad]

I would like to interject that this only accurate for the common publication of Grimm fairytales as editions to be read for children. And even there the level of "fucked up"ness is actually minimized.

And it might be worth noting that fairy tales can bear the same structure but vary extremely in the time and place in which they're told. Menaing: There is not ever one true origin of a fairy tale. At best we know one popular variation of it. So, the point "they probably edited fucked up thing X" begs the question with which fairy tale variation we work with. And then we need to make the distinction: Is the Grimm tale in question their direct documentation, or is it the variation for a publication for family households which was likely heavily edited.

The Grimms collected fairy tales as an academic endeavor for emerging German Language studies. (To be specific their collection came specifically from the area around Hannover, Hessia, and Münsterland where the people who recited the local folk stories to them came from.) Their first and second edition of their published fairy tales remained rather unedited, and were intended as documentation of local idioms, ways of speaking. Fun thing is: Not all fairy tales were of "purely" folkloric origin. Stories like Donkeyskin, Puss in Boots, or Bluebeard are actually so called "artificial" fairytales by Charles Perrault. These are fairy tales who originate directly from literature )other examples includes Il racconti dei racconti, or La Belle et la Bête. Upon being told these stories orally, Grimms were surprised because these oral stories were remarkably similar to their translations of Perraults work. Meaning, the literary stories have found their way orally from France into Western and Central parts of German territory. In that way, Perrault became, in it's local variation, part of the Grimm canon. So there you already have fairytales with more disturbing subject matter that was not Grimm material. So there you already have fucked up thing X that was already in the original Perrault version, now with local variants. (The threat of incest, or a serial wife murderer were already part of the Perrault works.)

The internet, especially US users interacting with the topic of fairy tales have this weird thing of describing Grimm but also other European fairy tales as "fucked up, dark, disturbing", pick you poison of adjectives. (Skill issue though. ( ˘︹˘ )) However, these stories were never intended for children! The fact that we first think of children bed time stories when we hear the hear the term "fairy tales" is due to a accident in literary history. Again, the collection of folktales was intended as academic language study. And these collected tales were either written or told for the people - basically anyone. Only a few selected stories were annotated stories "suitable for children". "Made for children" is not the same as "suitable for children". Peppa Pig is made in the language and the scope of children. Catch me if you can doesn't have any language or violence that is disturbing for children, the plot easy to follow that the child would carry any harm from watching it. Still, the target audience are adult viewers. In that sense, some stories were deemed also suitable enough that children could part take in them as well. But the stories were oriented towards all ages. But the second edition (1819) received as lot of backlash form the upcoming middle class. So demand was to make the texts more "child friendly". Here consider the context of the time: Napoleon had just razed across Europe, the middle class was emerging, the concept of childhood was upcoming, public executions were still part of daily life. Physical discipline was still part of raising children. Following children's literature like "Max and Moritz" or "Struwwelpeter" have a hard moral against misbheavior, including physical violence - part of the reason why some speak of black pedagogics as marker in German culture, specifically German children's education. (Although Pinochicco is also not the most forgiving of childish whimsy but I digress.) By all that I mean, that from out current concept of children and childhood, the edits the Grimms undertook may seem disturbing. But by all means, they did edit out a lot of sex, and more explicit cruelties, or dark themes The actual worse offense in their edits is editing out the often very proactive, prominent position of female protagonists in these tales. Women undergoing the Grimm edit, being adapted to a way more reactive, passive, (self-)sacrificial role for the gender dynamics of the early 19th century in German territory would merrit an entire discussion on it's own - I will leave it that the Grimm women are at the tension of their strong folkloric relevance as most common protagonist of fairy tales while also having to bow down to strictly gendered conventions in their edited state. Hence discussions about the feminist merit of Grimm fairy tales are definitely worth having but yet far from unambiguous! Then there were the edits that adapted the stories to a more Christian morality. The best example would be Star Money (eeew, terrible translation of the title!), in which the female protagonist basically martyrs herself to be rewarded with the riches of heaven. Or angels appearing as figures heralding heavenly blessing and announcing the end of the protagonist's painful journey. And these are the edits worth talking about! So yes, once again, from a contemporary perspective these might seem disturbing. But they were made in a time with it's timely and local specificity which might not hold true today.

So, the children editions ran parallel to the continued academic work of the Grimms. These include grammar studies, research into non-German fairy tales and comparative literature. They also continued to collect tales but certainly not all of them were included in the children's edition publication. Hence, one will not have a complete picture of the Grimm collection, if not understand the full scope of their fairy tale collection, until they do engage with their literary studies (which did also include openly antisemitic folk material but these will never be featured in works intended for children.)

Quick summary note: No, it was not just those two fucked up German dudes. The material was not made for children in the first place, and the assumption that there ever was an original version, let alone an innocent original version is inaccurate. What wasn't oral folklore was of literary origin which also featured a lot of dark themes. For fairy tale publication for children, the Grimms did publish editions specifically edited for the sensibilities for pedagogy at the time time. These edits and sensibilities form the early the 19th century, and every ongoing revision up to the 7th edition simply does not match up with our current sensibilities. However at the time, these were the "child-friendly" edits.

I enjoy a joke about fucked up German fairy tales as much as the next nerd, but it's genuinely striking how often the source for the really fucked up stuff turns out to be "yeah, this is only in the Brothers Grimm version and doesn't appear in any extant oral tradition, and we're like 80% sure they added it themselves". To a large extent it's not German fairy tales that are fucked up, it's two specific German dudes.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt - Viktor x Reader (Explicit)

You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

***

You couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at you with something other than disgust.

The bumps on your skin were large and deformed, like warts on a toad's back. Dark, unnatural purple spots had consumed most of your body, your veins glowing faintly inside your flesh. Staring at them, pulsating like worms making their way through your organs, still gave you unparalleled nausea. You were the kind of monster little children of Piltover feared in the shadowy corners of their bedroom, and you couldn't remember a time when it had been otherwise

The others like you all lived in small, crummy camps, where the warmth of a teared-up blanket was something worth killing your neighbour for. If the value of human life was close to none in Zaun, here, it was worth absolutely nothing.

A wasteland inside a wasteland.

Most lived off scraps left by bars; there were few other ways to get food. The familiar feeling of hunger digging its sharp claws into your stomach had never lessened. For water, there were only the thick metal pipes, going above to supply the golden city, which sometimes leaked drinkable but rusty liquid.

The best days, the only bearable days, were those where you found half-used needles of shimmer in the trash. For a few blissful hours, you were someone else, somewhere else, and nothing in the world could hurt you. Then it was back to being cold, hungry, and alone.

You had tried to live a semblance of a life, once, when the craving for shimmer hadn't been so all-consuming. But addicts were bad for business: customers didn't like seeing them, with their empty eyes and malformed bodies, and they were a very poor investment for an employer. How many months, or days, before they would abandon their job in favour of chasing their never-ending high?

Then there were the whore houses. One could get a few pieces of copper, if their body wasn't too ravaged by the drug. Damaged goods still sell, but for a fraction of the price. And yet there it was no better either: patrons would come in, use you, and leave, without ever looking you in the eye. Like you were less than human.

But not him.

He looked at you without ever flinching, without ever shying away. There was no sign of disgust or pity in those strange eyes of his, but an endless compassion, something that went beyond your comprehension. As if a simple glance at you had allowed him to read every corner of your soul.

You could have sworn time had stopped the second he locked eyes with you. In the warm amber of his pupils swayed a reflection of pale blue, like sunset on the ocean.

You had fallen to your knees without ever willing your body to do so, pressing your forehead against the cold gravel. It feels natural, almost instinctive, to bow in the presence of a god. For what other word could describe him, his presence, his aura?

Did someone like you, ugly, broken, filthy, deserve to see beauty like this?

A gentle hand brought your face back up towards the sky, lithe fingers tucked under your chin. Soft, so soft.

His eyes were back into yours, the sunset having morphed into a pool of liquid gold. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, rolling down your scarred cheeks and onto his delicate hands. He shushed you before you attempted to speak, like he already knew whatever words you would tell him.

“It's alright. I will take care of you.”

The digits slid slowly across your face, impossibly smooth, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the touch, revelling in the feeling of a sensation you had all but forgotten. He softly pushed the dirty hood off your face, hand settling on top of your matted hair. You closed your eyes; whatever this man was willing to give you, be it salvation or judgement, you simply knew you were ready to accept it.

And then, everything became light.

—

You saw him perform miracle after miracle following that day. He brought people back from the depths of hell, which they'd lived in for so long, with the simple touch of a hand. He brought back the smiles, the joy, and the hope all of you had given up on.

To your community, he was everything.

The familiar presence of his voice called for you inside your mind. It was so comforting, having him there, feeling him as a part of you. Knowing he would never leave you, that he would never let you be alone again.

He looked like a statue when you found him, seated in his cave, still and ethereal beyond your mortal comprehension. The gods had crafted his face from porcelain; his body from the world's most precious metals; his eyes from the sun and the sea; and his smile with the very essence of magic.

“Here you are. I was beginning to worry.”

That was not true; both of you knew very well you had heard his voice and were rushing to come to his side. Yet, the idea that a being such as him would worry about someone like you made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Herald?”

“Mm?”

He blinked, calmly, peacefully, as his eyes met yours once more. No other feeling compared. His pupils glowed inside the barely lit cave, a gentle and divine light emanating from his face.

The words were hard to get out, and you found yourself fidgeting with your hands, looking away from his perfect gaze.

Get a hold of yourself, you admonished your brain. You had practiced this moment more than once.

You were certain he knew exactly what you were about to ask him; he knew every thought going through your mind, after all. Which meant he knew of the nights you spent dreaming of him, of his body, and of the hundreds of ways you craved the touch of your messiah.

But he simply looked at you, calm and composed, the hint of a smile barely on his lips.

Briefly, you wondered if he was teasing you by letting you stew in your anxiety.

“I have come to realize,” you began unsurely, voice almost breaking, “that you always take care of others, Herald. Always take care of people like me.”

He observed you with that indecipherable ****gaze, still not moving an inch. You gathered all your courage to stare back at him as you pronounced your next words decidedly:

“But does nobody take care of you, Herald?”

He smiled, properly this time, yet still calm and moderate. It was beyond beautiful, his delicate features marked by soft dimples, the hint of a mole over his lips. You would have given your life in a heartbeat if it meant he would have smiled at you like this once more.

“I don't require such things anymore,” he explained serenely, fingers absentmindedly tracing the complex patterns of his arm. “This body doesn't feel cold, or hunger, or want. It is pure of all the desires the man I once was might have had.”

You swallowed with difficulty; was he rejecting your advances? You could not bear living without knowing you had done everything for him, given him every inch of your being.

“But that man,” you tried once more, moving a timid step forward, “he is still part of you, isn't he? Wouldn't it only be fair to take care of him too?’

There was not a hint of confusion in his expression; he understood exactly what you meant. Yet one of his eyebrows had slightly risen, perhaps of amusement or appreciation for your boldness.

“If you have something in mind,” he simply replied, his thick accent hypnotic, “you should show me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You would show him what his gift had meant to you.

Gradually, reverently, you approached the frugal throne where he sat, a simple rock formation at the back of the cave. You kneeled at his feet and gazed up, unsure if you were allowed to touch him. He gave you a light nod, a glim of endearment in his eyes.

With deference, you slid the fabric of his tunic to the side, parting his knees to give you access. You felt your cheeks heat at the realization he had no underwear, trepidation bubbling in your lower stomach. Then you stopped right in your tracks.

Where there should have been… something, there was nothing.

Your mouth opened in surprise, but no words managed to find their way out. You spluttered, confused, gaping at the being above you.

A low, small chuckle.

His luminous eyes were teasing, barely enough so that someone else would not have recognized it; but you did.

“I could not resist to watch your reaction,” he admitted, “My apologies.”

His delicate hand covered the area of his groan, and a faint light shone between the cracks of his fingers. The sound of metal forming, pieces sliding with one another, echoed inside the empty cave. When he removed his hand, it was as if the member had always been there.

As you had always pictured in your dreams, the Herald was well endowed, even in a softened state. It was without question like a regular human’s, but devoid of any veins, marks, and bumps. Not a single hair adorned the base. It was all perfectly smooth, the head only distinct from the rest of the length with its thickness.

He was art, in the most primordial sense of the term, and you could do nothing but admire him.

“This body shapes to my will,” the Herald explained at your look of awe, “It had no need for genitalia, so it did not have any. At least… before now.”

Your fingertips slid timidly on the indigo skin, feeling the polished texture. The contact felt pleasantly electric, like his body brimmed with untapped energy. The first small lick was somehow nostalgic, the feel of popping candies bursting pleasantly on your tongue.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you could immediately tell his taste was unlike anything you'd ever had before. The coppery flavour of metal mixed with something so enticingly sweet it could not be anything other than the taste of the arcane itself. An encouraging hand petted your head softly, fingers threading through strands of your hair. You moaned with your mouth still full of him; a single touch from him was enough to have your core burnt with want. You sped up your pace, taking as much of him in your mouth as you possibly could. The energy pulsated against your tongue, his cock hardening to your rhythmic pace. The thickness of his tip kept hitting the back of your throat, cutting oxygen for a few blissful milliseconds at a time and making you see stars.

It was perfect.

And yet, after a few minutes, you realized something was wrong.

You'd been with your fair share of men and women before. The twitching, the moaning, the cramping of the thighs from the building pleasure and the coming release- it was all absent.

You pulled back with a soft ‘pop’, looking up at your prophet once more for guidance. The same all-knowing visage stared back at you, that boundless compassion he had for all mankind. You understood what was happening, now.

“Herald,” you said slowly, voice horse from taking him, “why have you called me today?”

Silence. It looked as though he was thinking over his next words, choosing how best to explain things to you.

“I could sense you needed guidance,” he finally answered, “Support. I merely wanted to help in the way you needed me.”

Helping you. He was helping you once again. Even now, when you begged him to let you help him, he was still only thinking of others.

“You're not satisfied,” the Herald deduced from your crestfallen expression, “Why?”

Tears of frustrated devotion prickled the corner of your eyes, and you felt like a pathetically pouting child:

“My goal was not to satisfy myself. It was to please you.”

Perhaps you had dreamed it, but a glimmer of surprise flashed in his sunset gaze, gone too soon for you to ever be certain.

“Allow me to try once again, please. I will do better,” you requested, resting your head against his inner thigh, his cock still perfectly hard against your cheek. Looking up at him from under your eyelashes, you whispered your next words like a prayer, hoping it would reach him: “It is all I want to do from the deepest part of my heart.”

The smile again, so slight and yet so luminous. Perhaps he hadn't cured your addiction to shimmer, and had simply replaced it with the profound need of him. A drug you never wanted to be freed from.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, voice low, “you may do it again.”

This time, you could tell there was a genuine look of surprise in his neutral expression when you stood. ‘So he can't tell my thoughts immediately as I have them,’ you reflected silently. ‘I can use that.’

It was without asking that you made your way onto his lap, legs bent on both sides of his thighs. The position wasn't very comfortable, rocks digging into your knees; but he was so close to you that you felt the warmth of the arcane emanating from every pore of his body. The pleased look he gave you at your initiative made you feel emboldened, and you guided his cock to your entrance, lining yourself to slowly slide down on his length.

“I do not wish to interrupt,” the Herald made you pause, thick eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “or to appear to stroke my ego, either. But I believe it would be wise to… prepare yourself, prior to taking me.”

You looked away in embarrassment, confidence fading, not wanting to reply directly. To explain how you had prepared yourself for him in your tent, in the slim hopes this moment might happen, would certainly be the death of you.

His eyebrows rose back up, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He understood.

“I almost forgot how prepared you always are. Clever girl.”

You felt yourself tighten at the compliment. You committed the words to memory, engraving them in your mind forever. You would never forget when your Herald had praised you.

You patiently lowered yourself onto him, inch by inch, getting accustomed to him. A little shamefully, there was an undeniable selfishness of wanting this moment to last as long as possible.

When you took him whole, it was almost too overwhelming to bear.

His size was an undeniable component, both in length and girth. You had to wonder: had he been so big when he was but a regular man?

‘Yes’, a familiar voice supplied in your head. Had you not known better, you could have sworn his tone was slightly cocky.

But it wasn't just his dick, either. The flow of energy running through you from the point of your connection was dizzyingly intense, coherent thoughts barely stringing together. It felt like the high of shimmer but unbelievably more potent, simultaneously cutting you open and putting your body back together. This was being alive*.*

“Breathe,” he reminded you, a guiding hand sliding to the small of your back. Even now, he still took such good care of you. Overwhelmed tears had begun to fall down your eyes without you sensing their presence, and you tried to regain some semblance of your senses.

For a while, minutes, maybe hours, only the sound of your panting resonated through the cave. You gripped the Herald's shoulders tightly, scrunching the fabric of his tunic in your fists. His impartial expression never changed, but neither did the way his hand held you in place and comforted you. Once it felt as though your lungs were getting air again, you began moving.

All of it seemed like a dream; the feeling of fullness between your legs, the slow drag of his cock inside you, the warm wetness of your juices slipping out with each trust. If there was no heaven for sinners, then you had found your own right here. You picked up the pace, settling into a fast and wild rhythm. You scanned his features for any sign of disturbance; the slightest hint of red coloured his pale cheeks, the faintest laboured breath coming from his lips.

So he was still a bit human, after all.

You kept moving with renewed vigour, not able to contain wanton moans of pleasure.

“May I try something?” he asked, voice low, deeper than you had ever heard him speak.

You let out a sound of approval that dissolved into nonsense when the tip of his cock hit the spot you had carefully been avoiding. This time, he moved, ramming over and over against your cervix, too deep for comfort, shaping you to him and only him. You were so close, right on the edge, begging him for release with gibberish.

He had undeniably felt your incoming demise, and with one last push inside your core, he leaned his head forward, bringing both of your foreheads together.

In that moment, you were him as much as he was you, a single mind in perfect balance. You saw everything he saw, felt everything he felt. The weight and lightness of the cosmos, the thousands of strings connecting him to his followers, the understanding of the final step for humanity.

The Glorious Evolution.

And with that, you came, body spasming uncontrollably against his. You fell into the crook of his neck in exhaustion, sobbing, wondering if you had just died in your prophet's arms. Far away, as if he was in another room, you heard his comforting voice shushing your whines, his long fingers caressing your cheek. He looked at you as if you were the one to be admired. Too much, it was all too much.

Perhaps an eternity had passed as you came back to your senses. Things felt tangible once more, corporal, the now cold feeling of your wetness drying on your inner thighs. There was a feeling of awkwardness, of embarrassment, and you hesitated between staying still or pulling him out of you. Were there proper steps to follow after something like this, or any steps at all?

“You didn't…” you commented, unsure what proper term to use to not seem crass.

You didn't cum. You didn't fill me.

“I am not certain that would still be biologically possible for me,” he answered with little emotion, seemingly neither bothered nor frustrated by that fact.

Even if he hadn't been linked to your mind, your disappointment would have been palpable. You had wanted him to experience some of the relief he had given you, to release all that could have troubled him inside you. You wanted to care for him.

Selfishly, perhaps, there had also been the want to carry your prophet's seed so no one would ever question who you belonged to.

“However, to the extent this body can still feel pleasure…” he continued, not missing a beat, otherworldly gaze deep in yours, “you took great care of me. Thank you.”

This time, you smiled.

You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

And there was nothing more important to you than that.

[earlycuntsets]

“I CONSIDERED MYSELF TO BE MORE OF A GIRL”

A CONVERSATION WITH GERARD WAY from theboyzine.com 1/18/2015

"Gerard way is the renaissance-type singer songwriter // Goth prince frontman // comic book artist // proud father best known for both his solo music and his band My Chemical Romance. We got a chance to ask him a few questions in early January. Enjoy!

What is your favorite animal?

I would have to say an ape; for a long time I didn’t take the time to know the difference between primates, but my wife and I have been really into animals—apes are just very gentle creatures.

As an emotional professional, how do you feel when people tell you to man up?

You know, growing up as a boy you are always told not to show your emotions, that it is a sign of weakness. I have been lucky enough to lead a life where I can celebrate how I really feel—but there is still negative attention towards it and it is still considered weakness.

Is there a point, then, where one does need to (for lack of a better word) man up?

You know I really don’t like that phrase. “man up”, because it implies that emotional strength in rough times is a masculine trait, when in reality some of the strongest people I know are women. But yes, there are a lot of times when you should control your emotions–  times of crisis and need where you really can’t let them get involved. I have learned to pull my emotions out of a lot of big decisions.

You often make it a point to spread the message of gender equality in your shows. Could you describe that a little bit?

It is something I have been lucky enough to be educated about. I generally try to pay attention to it, make sure I get my facts from the best sources and whatnot, and I really relate to it. I never really subscribed to the archetype masculinity growing up, I had no interest in sports or anything like that. There was a time where I was called a girl so often that when I discovered the idea of transgenderism I considered myself to be more of a girl. So I identify with trans people and women a lot because I was a girl to a lot of people growing up. When I was doing MCR I think I finally got to display my femininity through the glam theatrical aspects of the band. It made me feel more hopeful, that I was allowed to be flamboyant. I want to make sure women and men and everyone in between feel safe and empowered.

Was there a person or thing that first sparked your interest in feminism?

When I was around 16 I became friends with these really cool girls, and that’s how I got exposed to Bikini Kill, Helium, Bratmobile—that was the real punk. All the other hardcore scenes at the time were a little bit hypermasculine and violent, which was totally unappealing to me. But here are these bands—Bikini Kill, et cetera that were actually talking about important things. That was real punk. Great bands.

What sort of advice can you offer to all of us boyz reading?

You have to surround yourself with ‘the others’. Whether they’re the creatives that you know or whatever it is. Because you guys will feed each other, that’s the nature of people. Find companions who will push you in the field you are in.

Do you hang onto traces of boyishness? Comics and digging up worms?

Well first off I don’t consider those things boyish. I am really happy that things like comics have become less marketed specifically toward boys—did you know that 50 percent of comic book readers are girls now? There is a really great picture I saw one time of a little girl with all the spiderman toys in a toy store clearly angry that they were in the ‘boys’ section. We need to let kids have more freedom of choice in who they want to be.

But answering your question, I have always been super into comic books. I didn’t really ever like sports, so I played dungeons and dragons a lot. That was a really important creative outlet for me. Of course I still love Star wars, and biking.

How do you find ways to stay positive?

Society is so interconnected these days, there is so much noise. It is really important I think to turn the noise down, to find ways to do so. Whether you’re in a creative field or not, you need to find a way to follow what is in your gut because that noise that is so obstructive is   creeping. Think about the art you make, the people you love.

My routine is really simple but important to me. I wake up every morning and my wife and I get our daughter ready for school and I drive her there. And that’s when work begins for me. I am lucky that one day I can be recording a new song and the next I am putting all of my energy into a comic.

Do you consider your marriage to be a partnership?

I am very glad you asked. I consider my whole family dynamic a three way partnership actually. My wife and I have been partners since day one, and now our daughter is the newest addition to the mix. Of course we have different duties to each other—my wife and my job is to educate my daughter  and make her feel great and teach her how to work hard, to let her choose what she loves. That’s very important to us. It is great coming home from the road because Lindsay (my wife) and I get to work together more.

Thank you so much for doing this interview, is there anything we haven’t touched that you want to say?

Don’t chase your dreams, let your dreams chase you

[maybanksmusings]

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!oc, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; changes are being made! see this post to learn more. to me, this part seems a little like a filler, but i want to explore veronica as a character and develop each relationship with each character as something more than a side character, not just honing in on her relationship with jj, which of course is a huge part of the story also.

part one. part two. part three.

when veronica begins to stir, the sun had long set. there was no way of knowing how long the pair had been asleep, all she knew was the lights of the chateau were off and there was a bright pink post it note stuck to jj’s head.

‘gone fishin’. jb pissed.’

pope signed off on the note, a small smiley face drawn inside the o of his name. veronica knew the pouges hadn’t actually gone fishing, that is was some sort of code jj would decipher when he came to.

in this moment, veronica was content. wrapped in the arms of the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.

what could only be described as a war was ongoing in her head. she wasn’t exactly one to believe in love at first sight, she thought this entire ‘spark’ thing was something made up by male authors to keep women reading their shitty romance books to keep them hooked, waiting for it to happen to them.

but then she met jj, and he was like a magnet. every time veronica was in his presence she was mesmerised, whenever he was gone she felt like all the colour was drained from the world.

there was only two problems.

there was a maximum of forty eight hours that they knew each other, add to that he was her brothers best friend, then add to that said brother made it crystal clear that inter-group dating was not allowed.

oh, and then the whole ‘nobody knows i’m his sister but us’ thing.

“you’re staring, baby” jj mumbled, his voice low and tired as he stirred beneath her “can’t say i blame you”

with a sarcastic scoff, veronica sits upright in the hammock, her legs laid out across the blonds lap “just admiring the drool on your face”

“aren’t you funny.”

comfortable silence follows, jj crosses his arms behind his head and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. even though she was staring off into the water, veronica could feel jj’s eyes on her.

“can i help you?” veronica quipped, a teasing lilt to her words as she face the boy in question “use your words, you’ll get there.”

unexpectedly, jj sighs and lets his head fall back “what am i doing?”

veronica knows he didn’t intent for her to hear him, but she did. she would be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she was even more disappointed in herself at the pang of sadness that hit her.

before she can say, or do, anything, jj is sat up a little straighter and speaking again.

“listen, you’re a really cool girl,” he pauses, shaking his head and starting again “you’re hot as shit, damn it!”

barely, veronica manages to mask her giggle with a cough.

“don’t ask me how or why, but i gotta tell you i’m super into you.” he blurts out “yeah, makes no fuckin’ sense, we barely know each other, no pouge on pouge macking, you ain’t feeling me like that-“

her body is moving before her brain can even comprehend what she’s doing, chipped nail polish framing blond hair as she held his face in her hands and pressed their lips together.

then, her brain kicks in, and veronica jumps back like she’d just been burnt.

“fuck, jay i’m so sorry. i wasn’t thinking,”

seconds pass agonisingly slow and veronica can’t help but think about just how badly she had just fucked up.

but she doesn’t get to overthink for long.

a calloused hand tangled in long, brown hair. the other gripping her waist like it was a lifeline, helping her into his lap as his tongue makes its way into her mouth.

the kiss is messy, it’s desperate. like two people drowning, taking in the other like they were air. hands cling to whatever they can, afraid if they let go it would all be over.

any reservations veronica may have had about ‘the spark’ were discarded, undermined even, this wasn’t a spark, it was fireworks.

but fireworks don’t last forever, and when the sound of john b’s rickety van can be heard drawing closer. the newfound excitement being dulled by the shadow known as a protective older brother, a protective best friend.

by the time the missing pouges pour out of the twinkie, veronica and jj are in much less compromising positions, now sitting beside each other trading menial conversation about the earlier events of the day.

“welcome back to the land of the living,” kiara teases, a yellow vape coming up to her mouth as she took a hit “you two were out cold.”

instinctively, veronica’s hand shot out, wordlessly pleading for a hit of her vape. with a groan, kie handed it over.

veronica lets her head fall back against the hard oak of the tree behind her, relishing the feeling of her first hit of nicotine in two days. she had a vape when she left home, but it died before she even made it to the outer banks and being broke meant she couldn’t even go buy a replacement.

“you could’ve woke us up, y’know” jj defended, trying his hardest to act as if nothing happened, reminding himself to stop staring.

pope scoffs, not missing the longing stares sent the brunettes direction but purposefully ignoring them “we tried, it nearly cost us our lives.”

unamused, john b walks past the rest of the group in silence. when he gets to the door of the chateau he looks over his shoulder and nods for veronica to follow.

the girl is suddenly more attentive, climbing over the human embodiment of a golden retriever and padding her way into the house behind the older of the two.

“does the name redfield mean anything to you?” john b questions, passing a beer from the fridge and getting one for himself “like, the surname.”

veronica is quiet, her finger tracing the rim of the can as she goes through every crevice of her brain in search of any name even remotely close, there’s only one.

“chris redfield.” she answers with a nod, popping the tab of the can and taking a swig “but i don’t get how he’s involved.”

“why not? who is he!?”

“a video game character.”

with a huff of annoyance john b drags a chair across the kitchen to sit beside veronica, unscrewing his compass and placing it down on the table. the name ‘redfield’ is carved into the metal.

“we went back to the boat, found a motel key, whatever.” john b shrugs off the rest of their findings, more invested in whoever this redfield person was. “then i remembered when you showed me that note, the one in the compass. then i found this, figured you would know more than i do.”

veronica gently traced the carved metal, it was definitely their fathers scrawl, she’d memorised it from the note she read over and over and over.

it couldn’t be a coincidence, her fathers note asking her to meet, the matching compasses. now this?

“if i’m going to help you, i need to know..” she trailed off, biting at the edges of her nails as she wondered how to phrase her next question “does this have anything to do with dad dying?”

“he’s not dead.” john b’s voice is louder, stern. then his face softens and he tears his gaze away from the compass and to the floor “sorry, just, i know he’s out there. and this? this is proof.”

“john b, i get it.” the younger routledge speaks slowly, trying not to tread on any toes “you’re not the only one who wants him to be alive, that needs to see him. but i don’t see how this—”

“dad found the royal merchant. four hundred million dollars in gold, and he found it. he’s trying to tell us where to find it.”

veronica sighs, fingers rubbing at her tired eyes as she once again tried to think of any connection to any redfield. when it came to family, she only knew the bare minimum, her fathers name and her mothers maiden name.

what she did know, however, was the royal merchant. as a child her father sent her maps and books on birthdays and christmases without fail, until one day they stopped.

“you’ve got books and stuff, right?” she finally asked, not wanting to get either her or john b’s hopes up. a nagging feeling was telling her their dad was alive, but she knew he wouldn’t just up and abandon his son.

the walls of her fathers study feel like they’re closing in on her, john b let her inside and left her to it. veronicas hand ghosts over the framed maps and dusty books. blueprints of ships with her fathers messy scrawl written randomly around the paper.

there’s pictures of john b littered all over the office, all different life stages, a few feature jj and veronica can’t help but smile at the photo of two little boys holding a fish between them.

on the desk there’s a picture frame, immediately veronica recognises her mother, years younger and a gentle hand placed on her tummy. in the same frame, there’s an ultrasound that veronica almost bypassed as john b, but when she looked at the date it was a long time after he was born.

it was her ultrasound.

it was her in her moms tummy, framed and proudly placed right on her fathers desk.

everything comes back at once. finding the note, and in turn the years worth of letters her mother had hidden from her. the dateline special with john b pleading for information about his father, their father. the fight with her mother, packing a bag in the middle of the night and making her way to the address stored safely inside her compass.

the tears don’t register until they hit the glass of the frame, the last few weeks of pent up anger, sadness and hurt bubbling over from the flame that single photo sparked.

her dad loved her.

for years she’d heard about her absent father, then the absent father that passed when she was a baby. the father who didn’t want the responsibility of a child and ran away once he found out.

but the letters, the compass, this picture? john routledge loved the daughter he was forbidden from seeing, from the second he knew about her he loved her.

and now he was dead.

a sudden wave of anger rushes from her head to her toes, glass shattering when she throws the dusty old frame against the wall with a scream. papers fly and maps fall from the walls as she turns her fathers office into her own personal rage room.

the racket coming from the small room shakes the chateau, so it’s no surprise when the pouges come crashing through the door.

the pouges eyes briefly flash with fear when their eyes land on the destruction caused by the newest arrival, but it’s quickly replaced by a familiar sadness when veronica crumples to the ground, screaming as loud as her lungs would allow for them to get out.

they don’t know what’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter. veronica was now considered a friend, and they gathered that’s what she needed right about now.

jj is the first to enter, drawing closer slowly as if he were being cautious “it’s okay, ronnie.” he mutters softly, dodging shattered glass as he knelt beside her “we’re here, we got you.”

kiara, john b and pope are close behind, wrapping veronica in what could only be described as a group hug until her tears subsided.

taglist!

@ren-ni @marleymarleymarleymarley @miidollaasignnn @rainingcecilias @tanyaherondale @xspideyhollandx @sluterainterlude @loverofmarsss @xoxo-ada @gigistalked @genderlessmenance

[breakandbuildfiction]

As much as I'm loving the Kryptonian and hyper emotional music ideas, I want to take this in a different, equally extreme and crazy direction.

I want Jazz, after having spent a few days knee-deep in the Infinite Entertainment District ending up getting hooked on those ghostly broadway plays, Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms TV shows, and Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms movies.

And the thing is, live-action Ghost TV shows and movies look like they are mostly high-quality CGI and the humanoid-looking characters still look like they are all people that are in full makeup and have prosthetics attached to their bodies to make them look distinctly not human. The writing is almost always superb, engaging and emotional and dramatic in all the best ways. Top-tier television that was written by some of the best writers from a thousand worlds and performed by actors that have dedicated hundreds of years to mastering their craft.

Imagine her trying to bond with her dormmate or some of the others on her floor by setting up a movie night and unthinkingly picking one of her newest favorites to share with them. A dramatic love story featuring a ghost of metal and electricity playing the part of a city dweller trying to capture the affection of a spirit of wood and dirt playing the role of what could best be described as a druid, all while the city the metal ghost helps to creat consumes the wood spirit's home, slowly chipping away at her very core and health. A story of two worlds, one being destroyed by change and the other ignorant of the damage their society unwittingly causes.

Thankfully the entire thing is in English, even if the wording borders of Shakespearian, and everyone else just assumes the way the city ghost flows and twists, flickering like lightning around the carved wooden form of their would be beloved is just expert digital effects. No one suspects that the movie is from different dimension where there really were people who looked, moved, and even spoke like the ones on screen. They are just shocked that they never heard of this movie before. The production value is way too high for it to be some kind of obscure indie project, but none of them recognize the studio that produced the thing, or any of the names in the credits. Some of them ask Jazz where she got the movie from, if there were any more from the same writers or 'graphic artists' that they could see.

Jazz is at a loss. This movie was just one she had grabbed along with a dozen others when she had taken an armful of DVDs from one of the in theater stores during her family's trip, prioritizing anything that was in some kind of English and had pretty box art and not even considering anything else when making her selections. For all she knew the movie WAS an indie project, the infinite amount of time ghosts had at their disposal allowing them to work at their own leisurely paces and everything normally done by time and resource-intensive special effects instead being done with a ghost's natural powers and physiology.

And even if it wasn't a one off, she didn't exactly have access to the Infinite Realms right now. The only ways to get their were her parents' portal, Vlad's portal, or with Danny's powers. None of which she had access to at college. How was she supposed to explain that to everyone though? She could see three different people already on their phones trying to google the screenwriter, the producer, and where they could buy their movies. Shit. At college for less than a month and she's already screwed up big time.

Danny was never going to let her hear the end of this.

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[pearlzier]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝜗℘ㆍ nerd.ᐟmatt ☆ nerd.ᐟreader ，✿

"POPULAR, YOU'RE GONNA BE POPULAR," you'd sing when you were doing absolutely anything. it was no shock to anyone that you adore musicals, you're an absolute theatre fiend. since you were a little kid, it's been your form of escapism, being able to transform into a different person on stage instead of how sheepish you usually are. matt personally loved how confident you were infront of an audience and so passionately speaking the lines you'd worked so hard to perfect.

after the inarguable disaster that was the mean girls adaptation (you'd quite literally sobbed into his arms about how bad it was) you two were pretty sceptical about a wicked movie adaptation.

"you really like uh.." matt's watching you, as best as he can, anyway, considering the fact that he's driving the two of you towards the cinema. his eyes flutter back to the road, hand working over the wheel as he holds onto it. "uh.. what's her name, the woman who played glinda on broadway—" he drums his fingers against the wheel in thought.

you adored the original wicked on broadway, you'd practically learnt the entire score, and you were so serious when it came to elphaba and glinda. literally, you and your bestfriend had gone as them one time for halloween before it was trendy to do so—the 'og's, shall we say. you loved many musicals, but wicked would always have a soft spot in your heart. having gone to see it live, it was a memory you'd never forget.

you were like, the most qualified ever to judge whether a wicked movie adapation was actually as good as it should be.

well, matt thought you were, anyway. he held you in extremely high regard.

he doesn't even get to finish before you're interjecting, "kristin chenoweth!" causing a smile to spread across his lips. there you go again, so eager to talk about musicals. he only ever sees you this happy when you're talking about the things you like or when you're with him.

"kristin chenoweth," he agrees quietly, watching the way the gleam in your eyes twinkles as you speak. he's in awe, pure awe, at how perfect you are. he'll get better at voicing it, he's sure of it. he's just.. a little overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

"she's amazing, matt," you insist, adjusting the tote bag sat in your lap. nothing could describe the amount of energy you have right now, you're practically bouncing off the inside of the car with joy right now. this might be one of the best moments of your life if you're completely honest with yourself.

"this is gonna be amazing, 'm sure of it. the marketing team are working overtime for this." matt might actually cry if he has to drink down another glinda themed robinsons drink—he won't, he'll brave it for you, but still.

matt isn't exactly into musicals the way you are, he usually plays video games, watches movies, and gets so hype over them it's crazy. though, you get it, your interests make you just as feral. but this is a movie musical, so you think he'll be into it as well. wicked was inescapable, his entire for you page was just glinda and elphaba and he wasn't even mad about it. couldn't be, especially with how happy it made you.

it was like when hamilton was trending, oh, god, you'd performed like seven one woman performances of the musical that he's sure he can quote the entire thing by now.

the two of you are quiet for a little more, the original broadway cast singing away in the background as it plays through the car speaker from your phone, 'till the car comes to a stop outside of the cinema. "we're here," he murmurs, killing the engine once he makes sure his parking's perfect.

"oh my god, matt! we're here. what if i faint? what if i vomit? oh god, i won't get to see the movie if i faint or vomit, will i? oh no, uh, okay, i need, uh.. oh—"

"hey, hey, relax," matt says, gently, wanting you to chill out a little. he offers a sheepish little smile and he murmurs, "uh.. we can go get the themed popcorn buckets and you can throw up in there if you want to.. in style.." that makes you giggle and you nod, practically ripping off your seatbelt so that the two of you don't waste any more time inside the car. he has to quickly get out to join you, making sure that you don't run off on your own.

as the two of you walk, his fingers awkwardly twitch at his side as he wishes to hold your hand, but he's a little apprehensive to. though, he doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about it, the two of you are dating, holding hands is a simple thing. but.. he is.

"wicked's real popular," he murmurs, glancing around. "it's real amazing," you add in return. the two of you make your way inside the cinema together, and you glance at eachother for a moment. he smiles, you smile, and it sends a surge of warmth through both of you. leaning against his shoulder, you watch as he pays for the two tickets, and even more heat surges through you at the fact you're one hundred percent going to be seeing wicked now. matt likes how happy it makes you. it makes him almost as happy, he's sure.

and you notice this, after a little. there's a bit of a queue—wicked was so popular—and you end up interlacing your fingers with his own. it makes a heat flush to his cheeks and he offers a smile to you, shuffling closer to you and pressing by your side a little just to make sure you don't get too cold considering it's getting colder out.

"line's pretty long," he notes quietly, glancing up. you guys are near the front, so it's okay. "mmh, yeah, but we're almost in," you agree, swinging your interlaced hands as you stand beside eachother.

"popcorn buckets?"

"popcorn buckets."

you're a mess when you get out of there. literally, he's got stains on his hoodie from your tears, not that he minded all that much. he'd be a hypocrite otherwise, he's feeling a little teary eyed himself. thrusted against his chest are the various popcorn buckets that you'd bought, as you're currently trying to compose yourself and make sure your pink makeup doesn't run. you'd dressed up in full glinda gear, as best as you could, and he'd gone as elphaba. in your words, he'd given you total wicked witch of the west energy, in the best way.

he mumbles a soft, "you're okay," switching the popcorn buckets to one arm so he could gently rub your arm as the two of you made your way out. a soft smile settles on his lips, just watching you. everyday he's reminded in little moments why he loves you so much. this is definitely one of them. matt quietly leads you out of the screening room, giving smiles to the people working at the cinema, ones who are quiet heartwarmed by your reaction to the movie and how much it clearly meant to you.

"that was just.." matt sighs softly, shaking his head as heat flushes to his cheeks. he shifts his weight a little, gently tugging on you for you to stop. it's just outside of the screening, his eyes meeting yours. your eyes are glossy, gleaming beneath the pink and green lights illuminating you both. "perfect," you finish for him, words wavering a little as you speak. god, you've never enjoyed a movie more. definitely a top ten movie. maybe even for matt, too. he couldn't deny how good it was.

matt nods his head at your words, adding a quiet, "really perfect," you'd one hundred percent be watching the movie a gazillion times after, probably in cinemas, but also definitely on some illegal websites when you got back home. matt'd be joining you, totally. he may not have been a complete musical fan, but he'd get into it for you, definitely.

"i'm like.. a new person after that," you tell him, shuffling closer to him and leaning your head up against his chest. he places the buckets down on the ground beside you two and he tentatively wraps an arm around your middle to bring you up against his chest.

"me too.. might be a musical fan.." a laugh slips past his lips ³and in return you giggle too. a soft sigh escapes you afterwards, head tilting to the side a little. he blinks when you look up at him like that, and the heat floods his cheeks a little more. he's getting warm from all the attention, really. but you're looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, and it makes him feel so unbelievably special. his heart's pounding against his chest, literally.

"i.. wanna kiss you," you find yourself saying before you even realise, and matt practically splutters and stammers over his words in return. "oh, uh.. you do? oh," he swallows thickly, glancing down at the ground a moment before he meets your gaze again, nodding his head. he'd been thinking the same exact thing, since.. right now, your lips look like they're coated in pure sugar, all shiny and glossy.

"you can kiss me. i wanna.. wanna kiss you," he mumbles, slowly easing his hand upwards on your back, his lips parting.

you're the one who goes for it, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. he brings you as close as possible with his hand, a dreamy sigh slipping past his lips against your own. you let your hands come up and cradle his jaw, both of your eyes shutting together as you take in the bliss that is the kiss you're sharing. when the two of you part, he's breathless, eyes gleaming in a similar way to yours. "you taste like candy," accurate, considering all the candy you'd been eating during the movie, but he loves it.

you feel a heat come to your face at that, and you glance at the floor sheepishly. "i do?"

matt nods, because yeah, you do. he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness that you'd left there in the kiss. he's incredibly intoxicated by you, how you taste, how you feel, just.. you. "yeah.." he really wants to do it again, but the realisation that you two had just kissed in public hits him and he ends up burying his head in your hair to try hide himself in some way. "oh my god, we just kissed, in public," you say in realisation.

he's got absolutely no clue where all of this confidence comes from, but he murmurs a breathy, "y'know what's not public?" that makes your eyebrows raise in interest, lashes fluttering a little bit. matt relishes in that expression on your face, just for a moment.

"what is?" you soon ask, brows furrowing now.

"my bedroom," matt wiggles his eyebrows instinctively, and despite your surprise at his forwardness, you laugh. a genuine, soft, laugh. god, you adore him. enough to the point you quickly run behind him as he practically drags you back to the car.

ִ ֹ ★ @deansbite i hope you and our 120+ kids are proud o'me for writin' consistently :3

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @sarosfilms, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasgirl, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @cayleeuhithinknott, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @beausling, @lovesickgrlsrh0t , @cupiidk1lls, @sofiassaturn ִ ꒱

[rottenraccoons]

Hey there! I've been wondering... when you write the story for OBSCURA, do you sit down together to write, or does each writer sit down on their own and write the respective characters' stories? And do you consult each other (+Mugi & Cajsa) about the process/finished story too, or do Violet and Tobi decide on what happens to characters and the world by themselves?

We talk as we work about larger lore implications and whatnot (we coordinated the information reveal in Keir and Cirrus' second chapter, for example), but for the individual plot beats Tobi and I work pretty independently by default.

We draft up plot outlines and then share them with Mugi, Cajsa, and Yamiochi for feedback and to make sure everyone's on the same page about how the plot is gonna progress. Once we're all good on the direction the plot is gonna go, Tobi and I trash-draft semi-independently; we talk to each other when we're stuck and need help unsticking the plot, and while we're working we make sure to let Cajsa and Mugi know what assets we're going to need.

One fun thing about development is that Mugi starts making art long before scripts are complete and locked, and that affects the writing process, too! I talked about it in our Next Fest behind-the-scenes stream, one of the biggest cases of this happening was with Oleander: his personality became a lot more fixed and vivid once I could see his appearance and his JoJo poses.

I think the best way to describe our process is that each of us on the team welcome input, but we all also respect each other's domains; I know my strength is in writing and not art or music, so I trust Cajsa and Mugi to know what is best in those fields, and they trust us as writers to make the world and narratives into places they can work with in turn.

[nonuniverse-tarot]

Recent Thoughts Your Person Has Had Of You

*All my reading are for 18+ regardless of the nature of the reading. If you're below 18, then this reading is not for you. Thank you for understanding*

What the titles says - we'll be looking into their recent thoughts AND as an extra their reaction to those thoughts!

A. B. C.

A.

Their most recent thoughts about you is how much peace you bring them, but it's the thoughts they have of you that bring them peace. With the Prince of Pentacle and the Princes of Cups here (looking at energy not gender so take it how it resonates) it shows me that the two of you haven't been in much contact lately. The Prince has an old radio that he's listening to, but he's disconnected. The Princess has a blindfold on (funny message that popped up but they might see you as their Gojo) and moving along in their path.

They have thought about you a lot and how you two are moving at different paces, not so much different paths. In between these thoughts, they've acknowledged that they don't have what it takes to have you by their side. I'm sensing a - not blockage - but more so closed door they're trying to open up in regarding to their emotions and feelings.

They're motivated to become rich in all aspects. The Ten of Pentacles and the Prince of Wands show their determination to become better and make their dreams/goals a reality for you and them. They daydream a lot about a family with you, whether that's having kids and dog, or just finally being able to be with you.

I feel the need to clarify that they don't jus want to sleep with you. They want the whole love story. I don't feel much sexual energy from them, doesn't mean they don't have those thoughts, it's just that it's not their main focus.

Their reaction to these thoughts was one of motivation. They think of you when they think they deserve a 'treat' or a pick me up when having a bad day. They might get red in the face out of excitement/giddiness so they usually think of you when they're alone. They feel more powerful and with hope for the future.

Song: A Little Messed Up - june

B.

They've seen and feel like you've been working very hard. On what you've been working on depends on the individual. Could be on yourself, work, personal project, or anything else that resonated with you. My hands got super warm with your reading so it could be possible that you've been working with your hands a lot more.

They think of you as knowledgeable and concrete. Stable would be the best way to describe it, but your person thinks of you as concrete, that's the word that continues to pop up. They can't see what you see.

Where is this work of yours going? They assume/know you have a clear image of where this'll take you, but they can't see it. The High Priestess and Sun are how they see you - knowledgeable and bright. To a level where they don't understand your point of view because to them, the two of you are standing on different levels.

Their reaction to these thoughts is wanting to support and help you, but because of the difference of levels that they feel, they don't know how to helps and support you. The Knight of Swords appeared reversed - in this reading to me it indicates that they won't yap about things they have no clue about. They know where they stand and how much knowledge they have, they're not about to give you tips and tricks about things they know nothing about.

Weirdly enough, they do see you above them, but they don't feel inferior. They feel like you're a higher rank, but that they'll reach you one day. I'm getting typical shounen protagonist energy from them, ha! (Side note: what's up with all these anime related messages?)

However, with the Knight of Wands Upright - they will support you and help you in any way that they can, without causing intentional harm in the process.

Song: Wild Ones - Flo Rida feat. Sia

C.

Their most recent thoughts of you is about a fight that the two of you had. Or an issue that you had with them. Let me paint the picture - you were closed off and defensive about something (it'll be different for everyone reading) but it seems like you've already worked out that issue as a couple/team. I am sensing that most people who chose this pile are in a relationship with your person, if not then the two of you or really close.

They're thinking about how great of a time you're having together. It seems like their past relationships/crushes would become rocky or straight up end after an argument or an issue happened. They're honesty happy this worked out so great! You've proven to them that there is a way to fix things.

It could have been a little disagreement that you had with them, but again in past relationships (of your person), that's all it would take for the relationship to end.

I got dizzy reading this pile! This realization hit them like nothing before! Their reaction to these thought's involved a drastic change of how they view all relationships in general. This gave them a lot to reflex on and that for some of those past connections (with family, friends, lovers, etc.) they weren't always to blame for how things ended.

Song: All This Time - Louis Tomlinson

Let me know if it's hard to read because of the color of the text so that I can change it! Thank you for being here 💙💜💙

[mirensiart]

Sorry if this has already been asked. I get only an hour of free time a day right now. I like your art a lot! But I had a question about the Linked pain story... do any of the Link's have a sensitivity to certain types of pain? For example, I can handle a lot of blunt pain like sore muscles and bruses and such but have a low tolerance for sharp pain like cuts or that sharp pain you can get when you run too far.

My sister is the opposite. She crys all the time about little bruses or soar feet but cut her hand pretty bad (I'll spare the details) and just wrapped it in a towl and kept going like it was nothing. Are any of the boys like that? Like: "I'd rather take a sword over a moblen club." or vice versa?

Thank you for creating such adorable art! ^-^

Hey anon!

I haven't really gone into detail about this, like so far the only thing that's been established is that twilight has high physical pain tolerance and wind&four have low physical pain tolerance

But I suppose if I could divide the different type of tolerances then I can see it like

Wild having a high physical pain tolerance as well, maybe not as much as twilight, but like he comes completely undone and is defeated by stomachaches lol which he suffers a lot cause he keeps eating weird things lol also anything that has to do with his hair, hair pulling is his biggest weakness, that he can't tolerate lol

Hyrule is good with physical pain tolerance as well (he was pretty functional with a migraine in the last update), but magic exhaustion or magic related pains floor him. In this au, his healing magic spell is a self healing spell and thus when he uses it on someone else the magic hurts, hyrule does not bode well with that pain at all (but heals others anyway, as if that's gonna stop him) baby needs to lay down immediately after that though

Four has pretty low pain tolerance in general but the pain of burns or of being too close to fire doesn't bother him and he tolerates it quite well thanks to being a blacksmith!

Wars has a pretty good physical pain tolerance, but he's more used to sharp pain than blunt pain, like he won't really react to a cut but whines and complains a lot about body aches and sore muscles

Sky I feel is the same as Wars, sharp pain is ok, sore muscles and chest pain thanks to running out of stamina is not ok lol

Wind doesn't like any type of pain, but he tolerates burns really good, he has burned his hands countless of times with ropes while sailing, so he's used to them

Legend doesn't tolerate sharp pain at all, despite his veteran status and countless adventures cuts, stabbing, etc is a no no lol he can tolerate body aches, chronic pain, stomachaches, headaches and sore muscles really well though lol he has them A LOT

Time is somewhere in the middle, he is able to tolerate sharp pain pretty well and he is functional with a migraine or a stomachache and he fares pretty decently with his chronic pain, but transformation pains like the wolfie one is like The Worst Thing Ever to him lmao

Twilight is an outlier and shouldn't be counted, but the best way to describe him is that most physical things don't bother him, but one cute baby kitten being lost or one of the ordon kids saying something mean to him like say that he isn't Cool anymore is enough to break him lmao

I do believe they all hate needles, like the pain from stitches is hated universally here lol

[starrieisdelusional]

How the Paopu Fruit Relates to Sora and Riku

a Soriku Endgame KH4 prediction

This is part of my soriku endgame kh4 prediction series, a series where i'll try to dissect all of the arguments made about soriku, and what it means for future installments. In part 1, we will discuss about how the paopu fruit relates to sora and riku.

This started out as screaming at soriku twitter, and when i finally connected the dots, i can't help but make an analysis about it because i haven't really seen any blogs that discuss about the paopu fruit + soriku in depth.

I assumed you have somewhat a prior knowledge of soriku as I'll be taking a lot of arguments from theories and deep dives. I'll try to make this as brief as possible and try to make this easy to read for all of us who have ADHD (me).

But if you want the short version:

From the evidence given, the paopu fruit is a symbolism for riku-sora-kairi love triangle. However, this analysis argues that the context of the paopu fruit for sokai is platonic, while for soriku it is romantic.

Because of this, i believe that one day, soriku will share 1 paopu fruit with each other as sora's final answer to the love triangle.

With that being said, let's finally talk about the paopu fruit

Start of Theory

paopu in a platonic context

The paopu fruit, is a fruit that intertwines destiny if two person decides to share it. Kind of like a soulmate cheat.

" Selphie: Hey, Sora. Have you heard about the legendary power of the paopu fruit? They say if you share it with someone you really care for, it binds you together forever and ever, through eternity! (sighs) It's so romantic. I gotta try it sometime. "

The paopu fruit has somewhat been considered as the series staple for romance. However the paopu can be viewed as romantic or platonic depending on the situation. Kingdom Hearts never said that paopu is meant to be romantic-only.

An example of paopu being platonic, is when it was used by Aqua to metaphorically describe the wayfinder charm, that binds Terra-Ventus-Aqua together, just like how the paopu works.

Aqua: Somewhere out there, there's this tree with star-shaped fruit... and the fruit represents an unbreakable connection. So as long as you and your friends carry good luck charms shaped like it, nothing can ever drive you apart. You’ll always find your way back to each other. Technically, I think you’re supposed to make them with seashells, but I did the best I could with what I had.

important keywords

The paopu fruit is related to a few things which includes:

Desitny: a fruit that binds destiny (or fate)

Star: The paopu fruit is in the shape of a star, which can also symbolize destiny.

Promise: a reminder of the promise that you made with that person you share your destiny with

A good luck charm: to ensure that no matter what, you won’t ever be separated, because your destinies are intertwined

Sea: a fruit that is native to Destiny Islands, that can be replicated by thalassa shells to make a good luck charm

kairi's relation to paopu fruit

At face value, the fruit is obviously related to Kairi, given how Kairi’s character is related to destiny, the star symbol, a promise, a good luck charm, and her name that translates to sea (海). Further elaboration of kairi's relation to the fruit:

Kairi came to destiny island by a meteor shower (or shooting stars)

Sora and Kairi’s cave drawing (star crossed lovers)

Oathkeeper (the blade is the shape of a star) or 約束のお守り Yakusoku no Omamori Promise Charm

Destiny’s Embrace (the keychain is a paopu)

Thalassa Shell Charm (in the shape of a star)

Separation and the promise never forget

Wayfinder Trio (owns a charm inspired by the thalassa (star) and came from outside of Destiny Island)

And finally, does the act of sharing the paopu fruit with sora in kh3

sokai kh3 mistranslation scene

sora-kairi's relationship in the lens of a paopu fruit is considered to be platonic with the argument: The act of sharing the paopu between kairi and sora in kh3 if you take the scene in a japanese lense:

it is kairi who initiates the thing

if anything, Sora looks so taken aback when kairi shoved the fruit in front of his face (he was looking at riku), but calms down once Kairi assures him that this is just a good luck charm to ensure that they wont be separated in battle

TR What’s R*ku doing all by himself?; TR Here!

Serves as a wrap up to sora and kairi’s arc as the realization of sokai's cave drawing

There’s even a version where this doesn’t exist at all?! (based on an interview done with their VAs, nomura made them take two takes, one with paopu, one not with paopu)

speaking romantically, if this is considered as their tie the knot scene it feels like it came out of no where because why didn't they just follow it up after kh1? why wait about 20 years to do it when there's multiple instances to develop sokai's relationship over the years aside from good luck charm

Serves as a wrap up to sora and kairi’s arc as the realization of sokai's cave drawing

There’s even a version where this doesn’t exist at all?! (based on an interview done with their VAs, nomura made them take two takes, one with paopu, one not with paopu)

speaking romantically, if this is considered as their tie the knot scene it feels like it came out of no where because why didn't they just follow it up after kh1? why wait about 20 years to do it when there's multiple instances to develop sokai's relationship over the years aside from good luck charm

if you squint, the legend says when the person shares 1 paopu fruit, so why does sora and kairi shares 2 here?

the thalassa, the crown, and the paopu

Now, going back to kairi's strong relationship with the paopu. (Notice how i say kairi's strong relationship with the paopu? ) There are multiple instances of the paopu being related to just kairi, when sora is not present (see kairi's relation to paopu fruit above) Therefore, the paopu fruit is more of a representation of KAIRI ALONE, not sora and kairi.

If anything, SORA AND KAIRI is represented more by the variant of the paopu: the thalassa charm, that is unique to sora and kairi only, as the only time the thalassa shell appears is if a scene involves Sora, Kairi, Xion, and Roxas.

Which parallels SORA AND RIKU crown necklace 'good luck charm', that is exclusively unique to them (necklace theory). Which is why Oathkeeper has the thalassa charm, not a paopu fruit.

Unlike how the paopu fruit is treated (pluck, eat/throw), both the thalassa shell (that came from the sea) and the kingdom crown (that came from land, riku 陸 shore) has been carefully and uniquely modified to sora.

The paopu fruit also grows exclusively on destiny islands, on a beach, near the shores where water and land met. And unlike the thalassa shells and kingdom crown that can be made on their own area, paopu fruit cannot exist without water and land.

Both the thalassa shells and kingdom crown are either rarely appears or never mentioned (like at all...) outside of SORA AND KAIRI and SORA AND RIKU, the paopu fruit is used more frequently, appearing everywhere, anywhere, and is used by every person in the game... including riku.

See what I'm getting here? Paopu fruit is the embodiment of riku-sora-kairi love triangle. Not a symbol for Sora and Kairi. It is important to also note that the paopu's dynamic only reflects

riku->sora and kairi->sora.

Namine's fake charm also contributed to this (if we are going by the believe that she's trying to insert herself to kairi and riku's messy love triangle, pls necklace theory and aitsu). Namine turns sokai's thalassa charm into a fake paopu fruit. So this charm became a mutant variation of Kairi's thalassa and Riku's crown.

And now where I'll back up aitsu and necklace theory: Again the form that came up is a paopu fruit. if we were to delete those theories into our narrative (meaning that namine is only inserting herself as kairi), it does not make sense, because why would she conjured up a paopu that has a messy relation with sokai?? why not a variant of a thalassa shell?? why not a drawing? a painting? why the paopu specifically? where no one else can be involved other than riku->sora?

riku's relation to paopu fruit

Unlike kairi, the use of paopu fruit with riku is almost to none (which is probably the reason why no one had really talked in-depth about this) so here are a few instances that it appears:

Terra and Aqua just so happen to find SORA AND RIKU on Destiny Islands after interacting with paopu fruit back in BBS

Riku 'teasing' Sora about who gets to share the paopu with Kairi

Sora and Repliku's fake paopu charm

GaybladeTM COMBINED: Isn't it odd that the key chain turns to paopu fruit when sora and riku combine their hearts together?? even though Kairi had 0 thing to do with it?? Even though this is an exclusive SORA AND RIKU thing? Even though we agreed that the paopu rarely ever appeared alongside riku?

*presence of kingdom crown

Note that all of the instances that i've jotted down, always rarely occurred, and has only been present.... when SORA AND RIKU are around.

One reason alludes that paopu only appears whenever soriku are in sync, another is because of riku's forgotten VOW (chikai) (see necklace theory, chikai & don't think twice, to sum it up chikai or vow is riku's version of kairi's promise (yakusoku), chikai in another context is the kh3 music that came from riku POV to sora).

A third is because Riku is the opposite of paopu, his whole identity defies destiny. He is an oathbreaker (opposite of kairi's Oathkeeper). He litterally destroys destiny island, altering sora and kairi's fates. The opposite of sea...

So following that logic, the paopu should be viewed as romantic when viewing Riku->Sora

soriku and the paopu

we finally arrived to the final chapter of my lengthy analysis. so, how does this affect soriku in future installments?

i believe that one day, soriku will (either in KH5 or KH4) share 1 paopu fruit with each-other, and it will be Sora who offers the fruit to riku as his final say to the triangle. The reasons why are:

a nod to kairi who initiates the offer to sora in kh3, with sokai's case, sora is technically the first who propose the fruit via cave drawing that he done in secret at the beginning of KH1. It wasn't actually until the end of the game that kairi saw that drawing and realized: WOW! Sora wanted to share the fruit, with ME??? (because the drawing is hidden in a cave...?)

this parallels to how Riku 'jokingly', not so smoothly, try to rizz Sora at the beginning of KH1 (nearly identical timelines) and basically try to trap sora into sharing the paopu with him. Notice that in this period, soriku still aren't 100% in sync and are still dancing around / masking their feelings for the other(it isn't until kh2 that they started to re-bonded, being more affectionate and honest)

that scene is also an interpretation of how paopu should be viewed as romantic (following riku->sora = paopu romantic), notice how i always stressed riku->sora, kairi->sora, and never kairi<-sora, riku<-sora?

despite being the center of it all, sora's relationship with the paopu fruit is neutral to say, not really leaning torwards one or the other (maybe kairi but it slowly changes)

it's Sora's final answer to riku-sora-kairi love triangle war that had been going on for 20 years, sora had already rejected kairi's romantic advances, choosing to stay as friends, a slot for a gf is still available....

i have a theory this is soriku leaning because sora had been abusing the power of waking that he got to mess with reality, (check sleeping realm) so now he's leaning on the defier-of-destiny side

soriku sharing ONE NOT TWO fruit to finally do the legend as intended, because in sokai's beta-testing (the cave drawing), it's sora give kairi, kairi give sora.

Meanwhile in soriku's beta testing ('riku's pathetic attempt at rizzing')

riku: *yeets the fruit to sora*

sora: *throws fruit away*

(sokai 2 fruits soriku 1 fruit, sokai 2 fruits soriku 1 fruit, sokai 2 soriku 1, SOKAI 2 SORIKU 1)

THE END!!!!

Okay we have actually reach the end!!! great job sorikus!! tysm for listening to my ted-talk!! i hope you like it

[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

CHAT, IT'S DONE!!! CHAPTER 3 IS HERE!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIO!!! YOUR PRESENT??? THE BIG SAD!!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA!!!!!!

ANYWAY, chat I think this chapter genuinely has some of my best writing so uh, praying this gets popular lol- CLICK ON THE IMAGES FOR BETTER QUALITY 🙏

AND WITH THAT, ENJOY!!! >:D!!!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

"I did what was right."

"You did what benefited you and only you."

Could the warden have been right?

Medkit sits there, staring at Biograft as he recovers from overheating and attempts at saving battery for the rest of the trip. The two are on their way to the Church of the True Eye, Medkit has to report back about what happened no matter what. However, the pair are currently resting at Sword's. Biograft lays in Sword's hammock, "sleeping," though he can't actually recharge without Subspace’s crystal.

I can't do anything.

I can't do anything but watch as his newly grooved existence runs along the iron rails laid before him by my own. There’s no lever, no other track, and I could close my eyes, but watching is the least I owe him. From the rifled frozen heart of the mountains to the ineludible sand of the desert he now erringly rushes forward. He’s smart; but there’s intelligence which lies with woe or that which lies with insanity. In some souls are the wings of the swords who hegemonize this world which allows them to dive into the darkest gorges, soar out of them again and again, and become impervious to the wills of many. Such that even if they were to fly forever in those georges, they’re in the mountains, making even their lowest swoop higher than that of any plain bird’s soar. He’s just now growing, with so much potential and light. Do I have it in me to watch if he falls the same as I?

Biograft’s awakening quickly stole Medkit’s attention from his thoughts. “I am no longer overheating and believe I have deleted a sufficient amount of data, my remaining battery should now last a week."

“The church isn’t that far, which should leave us most of that time to figure out a battery for you,” he’s cut off by Sword entering the room.

“Hey Med, how’s Bio- Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He stepped forward and rested his arm on Medkit’s shoulder. He wasn’t all that sure about hosting a murderous robot, but Medkit’s adamance, and offering to charge him less from then on, ment this was important. Medkit didn’t give many details of what happened, but he did mention this Biograft being sentient and that the two just escaped from Subspace.

He met Sword with silence. He’s never felt before, how would he even be able to describe it? He has the vocabulary, but words are too subjective and feelings don’t always follow their denotation. It’s too complex. That’s without the added burden of asking if it’s even real. All experiences of life are different, but is his even valid? He can’t even articulate how he’s doing in this present moment. This is a train of thought best saved for later. He won’t lie, but he doesn’t know the truth. He simply says, “That is an overwhelming question,” and leaves it there.

“I should’ve thought about that, hah! Sorry, let me ask something different then, hmm,” Biograft wanted to interrupt and say the apology was unnecessary, but Sword spoke before he got the chance. “Still think my techniques are outdated?”

Biograft stares at him for a moment before speaking, “Incredibly so.” He pauses, “However, there is merit to it, age often brings either value or irrelevance. I believe you’re making a good attempt at having it be the first option of the two.” His words surprise Sword, but it seems to convince him that this Biograft is different from the ones he’s fought before.

Sword smiles at Biograft, it confuses him, but at least Sword seems pleased with his response. Medkit speaks up, “We should get going.”

“Leaving already? Dang! You sure you two are good to leave?” He knows they have to leave for the cult eventually, but he wouldn’t mind their company for a bit longer.

“As ready as we can be.”

“So not at all?”

“Correct.”

As Medkit had predicted, it did not take them long to arrive at the church. The two are greeted by Scythe, “Aw there ya are ‘Kit! Why if I didn't know any better I woulda thought you were tryna run,” she steps forward, looking Biograft up and down, “I see you brought a new toy with ya.”

“I can explain.” Biograft notices a new hesitancy in Medkit’s voice.

“Well of course ya are! Let’s go find some place else to talk.” There’s been some sort of underlying threat lacing itself in her words, but Biograft can’t grasp what. Medkit, however, knows it all too well. Scythe begins to walk and motions for the pair to follow behind. Medkit’s hands tense, something makes Biografts shake.

The two stick close as they follow Scythe, eventually making it to an office like room with a large round table. She motions for them to sit at one end while she walks to the other. “Now then! Explain before I disassemble yer lil friend here.” The way her tone didn’t match her words reminded Biograft of Subspace, but this felt different. This felt different. He should be used to violence aimed his way, being in phights, having been part of Blackrock’s security force, being close to his creator, but this wasn’t the same. There are stakes, this existence is now the only one he has, there’s no coming back now if he’s killed. He won’t claim to be alive, but he will fight for this life with every part of himself.

Medkit knew she would probably rip Biograft apart regardless, “This Biograft, he’s sentient, we got away from Subspace-”

“Hold your horses there Doc, ain’t we supposed to be keepin’ ya safe from that scientist?”

“That is the deal we have but-”

“Now how exactly are we gonna keep ya safe from him if yer actively bringin’ his lil experiments ‘round the place, mm?

“He’s different!”

“Ya say that but all I see here is a security risk.”

Biograft stood up, “I can prove it.” he pauses for a moment to rephrase his words, “let me prove myself.” Medkit looks at him, clearly shocked, wanting to stop him.

Surprise managed to slip through Scythe’s expression. Oh, this was gonna be fun, “Well, well, well~ it can speak fer itself. Hmmm, you know what, yeah, I’ll give ya one shot,” she walks to the door and holds it open, “Come along now~” Medkit goes to follow behind Biograft, but Scythe raises her hand and shoots him a look, “You’re stayin’ here, Broker will be here to talk to ya in a bit. You can give him yer full report.” Medkit goes to say something, but flinches back, a pain shooting through his eye as Scythe’s glass one temporarily gains a teal tint. He sits back down and crosses his arms, refusing to look at her.

Her smirk grows as she turns to Biograft, “Now then, shall we?

Scythe led him to one one of the canyons near the church, as the two walked she asked, “I assume yer lookin to stay here? With him?”

“Yes.” For the first time since all of this had started, he could answer without hesitation. Staying by Medkit’s side, he wasn’t sure what made him seek such a thing so desperately, but he knew he had to do whatever it took.

“And how exactly ya think this’ll work hm?” Scythe stopped and turned to look at him.

Confused, he asked, “In what regard?”

“Well I need some,” She paused, “Reassurance. I could put in a good word for you to the Father, but how do we know this ain’t a long con for you and yer creator?” She began to step closer, “Or that yer any different from the tons of you I’ve dismantled before?” Standing face to face, inches apart, “How do we know yer a good fit for the family?”

“I’ve abandoned all of my connection to Blackrock-”

She puts her hand up to cut him off, “I don’t mean for you to tell me," She yanks him forward, "I want you to show me.”

The two exchange blows for a while. After, Scythe takes a seat on a nearby cliff edge and motions for him to sit next to her, “A’ight, that’s good enough, I get the point yer different, but I still got some things I wanna ask.” He sits next to her, “Why did you leave?”

He immediately goes to excuse his actions, “I had to-”

“No. Listen kid, I’ve fought…” she vaguely gestures at him, “you, before. I know you do insane amounts of calculatin’ and figurin’ out the ‘most optimal actions’ to take for yer directives n all that. So out of every choice you coulda made in that moment, what made leavin’ the best?” She observed him, even if he wasn’t a demon, there’s something in him. Something that can be used.

He froze. He didn’t know? No, he did know, he just didn’t want to admit it. He could’ve just gotten Medkit out of there and returned to Blackrock. He could have returned to Subspace’s side and just held him back until Medkit got away. He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to be here, but something inside him needed him to. Needed Medkit. Medkit’s absence hurt him, and now he had a chance to be by his side again. This is one shot at it. Biograft gave up every part of his previous identity for this. It won’t be like what it was before Medkit left, far from it, but that didn’t matter. Whether he was sentient, or not, didn’t matter. Medkit would be here, and that’s all he needed. “He did.”

Scythe smiles, seeming more than pleased with his answer. “Say, you need a battery right? Er, well, some way of chagrin? I hear ‘Kits crystal aint work for you, I might have somethin’ that will.”

He looks at her surprised, “Really?”

She nods, “It comes with conditions of course, but you’ll join the family, I’ll vouch for ya, and you’ll get to work alongside our dear medic. You gotta … earn the power you’ll be using from the father, but I think you’ll make a fine vessel for it.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a glass eye, “Here, it’s even the one ‘Kit was s’ppossed to have! His eye was sewn shut before he joined, which is why he’s allowed to have an eyepatch.”

He takes the glass eye, “I assume you’ll want me to change my display?”

She nods, “You’ll be required to yeah, I know you don’t have proper eyes, so something to show only one ‘ll work fine,” she thinks for a moment, “Maybe you change one to a flower!”

The three meet again in the workshop. It was nowhere near what he used to have in Blackrock, but it was functional, and Subspace was nowhere to be seen. Medkit steps up to Biograft, putting his hands on his shoulders, before giving him a tight embrace. Biograft was quick to reciprocate. Medkit whispered to him, “You’re still a weapon in everyone else's eyes, just in someone else's hands now, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

The two pull apart and Biograft lays on the rooms center workbench, "I didn't leave for freedom, I left for you."

[nhlclover]

GINGERBREAD WARS RUTGER MCGROARTY

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x rutger mcgroarty

summary: you and rutger get into a not-so-friendly gingerbread house building competition.

warnings: talks of candy, reader and rutger being insanely competitive, mention of weapon as a metaphor kind of?

wc: 1.23k

notes: first work in my 12 days of christmas celebration! hope y'all enjoy this one

The onset of winter had draped the world in a frosty embrace, crafting the perfect excuse to stay nestled indoors. Frost etched intricate patterns on the windows, and the living room glowed with the cozy flicker of a cinnamon and clove candle. The scent mingled with the warmth of thick blankets as you and Rutger sat cross-legged on the floor, transforming your coffee table into a chaotic gingerbread construction zone. Between you sat two unopened kits, brimming with cookie walls, tubes of frosting, and a kaleidoscope of colorful candies, all waiting to be shaped into edible masterpieces.

“We’re doing this right,” you declared, pulling out your phone to set a timer. “One hour. Whoever builds the best gingerbread house wins.”

“Define ‘best,’” Rutger said, smirking as he tore open his box. “Because if it’s sheer dominance, I’ve already won.”

“Best as in structurally sound and aesthetically pleasing,” you countered, leveling a mock-serious glare his way. “No shortcuts, no sabotage.”

Rutger laughed, a deep, infectious sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, it’s on.”

Competitiveness was the cornerstone of your relationship, transforming even the smallest activities into grand battles of wit and will. Whether it was a round of mini golf or a gingerbread showdown, neither of you could resist the pull of a challenge.

As the timer started, the room dissolved into chaotic creativity. You worked methodically, precision your guiding star, as you piped frosting along the cookie edges and pressed them together carefully. Rutger, in stark contrast, adopted what could only be described as a “freestyle” approach, squeezing frosting directly from the tube in uneven bursts. He slapped pieces together with reckless abandon, his hands soon sticky with icing and a streak of frosting somehow finding its way across his cheek.

“Looking good over there, babe,” you teased, eyeing the precarious tilt of his gingerbread walls.

“Oh, you’re intimidated,” Rutger shot back, his grin pure mischief. “Just admit it. My house has character.”

You snorted, sticking a gumdrop to your roof. “Sure, if by ‘character’ you mean it’s held together by sheer luck.”

The room filled with a soundtrack of quiet Christmas music, punctuated by your playful jabs and the occasional crunch of misplaced candies underfoot. For a brief moment, there was almost peace — until Rutger’s eyes flicked toward your symmetrical, candy-laden structure.

“Wow,” he says, leaning over to inspect it closer. “Looks… really sturdy.” He hummed as his hand hovering dangerously close. “Would be a shame if something—oops!” He nudged your roof piece just slightly, causing it to slide askew.

“Rutger!” you gasped, swatting his hand away as you shielded your creation.

“What?” he replied, all innocence, though his devilish grin betrayed him.

“If you try to knock my gingerbread house down one more time,” she warned, narrowing her eyes, “I swear, I will smash up your gingerbread house and glue candy canes to your eyebrows.”

His laughter boomed through the room, so loud it shook his already lopsided structure. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” you retorted, brandishing your frosting bag like a weapon.

What followed was an inevitable escalation. Rutger lunged for your house once more, but you were ready, swiping a line of frosting across his cheek in defense. He froze, mock-surrender in his posture. “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he said, his tone low and teasing as he grabbed his own frosting bag.

“Don’t you dare!” you shrieked, stumbling to your feet to escape the impending frosting attack, but found yourself cornered by the fireplace.

What began as a building contest transformed into an all-out war. A dollop of frosting hit your sweater, and you retaliated with a handful of gumdrops. Candies rained down like festive confetti as the two of you dissolved into laughter, the competition long forgotten.

When the alarm finally rang, Rutger threw up his hands. “Truce!” he panted, frosting streaked across his face and a lone sprinkle clinging to his hair. “You win. I concede.”

You stood triumphantly, frosting bag still in hand, your own cheeks flushed from laughter. “That’s what I thought,” you teased, grabbing a gummy bear from off the coffee table and stepping towards him, sticking it onto his frosting-covered cheek like a badge of victory.

He didn’t brush it away. Instead, he grinned and tugged you closer, his hands settling on your waist. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “you might be a little insane and intense, but I think I like you anyway.”

Your heart melted faster than the frosting in your hands. “Only ‘like’ me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I love you, even if you’re a menace with frosting.”

You laughed, your hands resting on his chest. “Good, because I love you too — even if you can’t build a gingerbread house to save your life.”

Rutger chuckled, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. “I don’t need to build gingerbread houses when I’ve already got the sweetest thing right here.”

Your face heated at his cheesy line, but you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your lips. “That was awful. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky, huh?” he teased, his eyes flicking to your frosting-smeared cheek. “Maybe I should test my luck again.”

Before you could protest, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your frosting-covered cheek. It was warm and tender, the kind of kiss that made your heart flutter and the world fall away.

“Mm, sweet,” he murmured with a smirk as he pulled back. “Maybe I’m not so bad at this whole frosting thing after all.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laughter betrayed you. “If you’re trying to distract me so I won’t remember the fact that we were in the middle of a competition, it’s not working.”

Rutgers grin only widened as he laced his frosting-sticky fingers with yours. “Nah,” he said, his voice softening. “I’m just reminding you that the best part of tonight isn’t winning — it’s this. Spending time together.”

Your chest warmed, and for a moment, you forgot all about the half-finished gingerbread houses on the coffee table, the candies scattered across the floor, and the frosting war still visible on your sweaters and faces. All you could see was Rutger, his gaze full of affection, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket on a cold winter night.

“Okay,” you said, tilting your head in playful concession. “But for the record, my house was going to win.”

“It absolutely was not.” Rutger scoffed.

“Oh, it absolutely was,” you insisted, your tone dripping with mock authority as you gave him a pointed look. “But I guess I can forgive you since you’ve officially declared me the sweetest thing in your life.”

Rutger chuckled, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled you into a warm hug. “You are,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something softer, more sincere. “And I’ll prove it — just wait till next year. My gingerbread game is going to blow your mind.”

You giggled, your cheek resting against his frosting-smudged sweater. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The unfinished gingerbread houses remained forgotten on the coffee table as the two of you sank onto the couch, curling up together under a shared blanket. The Christmas lights twinkled, the music played softly in the background, and the snow outside blanketed the world in peaceful silence.

[justevelynnnn]

Magic🍃

Summary: Scott has a headache so you offer him something w/ “magic” to help

Content: Scott summers x Mutant!Fem Reader

Warnings: mentioning of weed infused brownies and them being consumed & a couple of swears…

A/N: I got this idea from somewhere but I can’t remember where…it was on here actually and I was like omg I have to write this ! Ugh I love him so much….

You and Rogue made “brownies” while everyone was gone earlier. Gambit also tried to help but kept messing up so Rogue kicked him out however, he was invited to try a piece still when they were done. It was you three’s secret even though Xavier himself literally already knew, he just didn’t say anything. As long as you guys were responsible he supposed.

But it was others you worried about. Like Wolverine who probably would huff them up in minutes or Beast who’d lecture you for hours about the negative effects. Or…Scott.

The leader made it clear he was a by the book guy. Neat, serious, a rule follower ….whatever. Point was, he didn’t play games. So recreational usage ? Yeah, no. Nope.

You hide the rest in the oven since no one really cooked in there anyways and went back outside. Rogue and Gambit went off somewhere and you wanted to enjoy some outdoor air while these brownies kick in. You spent alot of time out there especially as a result of your mutation. Your powers allowed you to control all things nature. You could move water at will, control wind (but not as good as storm can), grow plants quickly and more. You loved all things nature related especially things you can use in your day to day life like herbal medicines. Or growing tea leaves to drink or even coffee beans.

You were also really into growing weed.

You knew not to get too high especially when important missions were coming up or when you knew a meeting would take place later on so only during your guaranteed free time did you try anything. Rogue caught you once but was really chill about it so now sometimes she gets high with you. But no one else. It was risky doing it but it really helped calm your nerves. Plus, Logan smoked and drank all day long so was it really that bad?

Once outside though, you see your beloved leader sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. He’s muttering something odd. Concerned, you go over to him. Maybe it’s because off the edible that he seems this way? He’s mumbling gibberish. His energy is off. Really off. You just hope that he can’t see how there’s a tint of red in your eyes.

“Hey…Scott? Youuuu okay?” you ask. You lift a hand to touch him but he suddenly looks up at you a bit, startled like he didn’t hear you approaching, which caused you to bring your hand back quickly.

“M’fine.” He says, almost in a groan. He puts his head back down and asks, “Did you need anything?”

“No..just…checking in you?” You don’t know why it came out as a question.

He says nothing.

It’s awkward for a second or two as you just stand there. It hits you that this may be one of his headache episodes Jean told you about. You felt bad for him. You wanted to stay but you get the feeling he wants you to fuck off.

He just groans again, probably in annoyance that you’re still here. It was very unlike him to act like this. This is the first time you’ve seen him in such a, pained, awkward state.

It hurt even more because he was secretly your..crush? You guess that’s the best way to describe it. It wasn’t crazy. Maybe you just admired him a lot as a strong leader. Maybe it was his good looks…. maybe. You just hoped it was a phase. It didn’t help him and Jean have a complicated relationship thing going on that he seemed more attentive to rather than looking for someone new to replace her.

You get an idea. It may be crazy but you didn’t know what else to do. Plus, you were a bit high so your decision making was a bit wonky. You rush inside the mansion and b line to the oven. You grab half a brownie and a bottle of water from the fridge. As you walk back outside you see Scott’s hands caught in his hair. It definitely seems like he’s getting worse. You hoped he accept this and not scold you and kick you off the freaking team or something.

“Hey…um, I brought you something…” You say, sitting next to him.

He lifts his head again and looks in your hands. “Water and….a brownie…?”

He says it low, like he almost was thinking out loud. He’s clearly confused.

“It..um..it has something in it that I think will help you…”

His hands are in his lap now and he’s just staring at you. His gaze feels strong for some reason even though he has the visor on.

He looks back in your hand and gently takes the brownie from you. You watch him slowly take a bite of the brownie, almost like he’s skeptical.. or maybe he is.

“It’s good, but how will this help?” Scott looks back at the ground as he finished the brownie. You almost feel guilty. You play with the bottle in your hand nervously as you think on whether you want to tell him or not. You’re scared of the possibility of him lashing out that you just secretly fed him cannabis.

It’s a couple of seconds before you answer. “They’re justtt, special.”

“Special how?”

“There’s something inside that will help you relax….”

Silence.

“….But, how?”

The question come out a bit sharp, you assume he wants a straight answer but also wonder how he can’t get the hint or has no idea seemingly. You can’t blame him though, why would he suspect a team member to be in possession of weed?

You sigh as you prepare for the worst.

“They have… weed inside.”

Scott slowly turns his head at you. He’s smiling weird. You accidentally clench the water bottle and out the corner of your eye you see some plants move around you two.

“…..What.”

You just stare nervously at his blank smile. You can’t ever really read him or his expressions sometimes but he’s definitely annoyed. Probably mad. Hopefully not furious. Definitely not happy.

It spills out of you. “I’m…I’m so sorry! I just wanted to help you and I know you hate weed and drugs and all that stuff but you looked like you were in so much pain and I just wanted to help and I know I might get kicked off the team but-”

“Hey.”

You stop. You feel a tear slipping from your eye.

“It’s okay.”

Your mouth drops. “W-what?”

“It’s fine. It’s not posion.”

You’re still frozen as Scott grabs the bottle. He’s…okay? Maybe you had too much of the brownies earlier….

“You’re…okay..? But, you hate weed! You said you-”

“I know.” He takes a weirdly large gulp of water. “But you had good intentions. So it’s fine.”

You’re still in shock from his nonchalance. Maybe he’s gonna yell later. Maybe he didn’t really understand that you just gave him a drug that he’s made so clear in the past that he hates.

He finished the water bottle quickly and just lazily throws it behind him. Okay, this may not be Scott. This might be Mystique. Or you’re hallucinating.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Or even, Scott…?”

He laughs at this but quickly winces. “Yes, I’m Scott. It’s just my head is making it hard to care about much right now.”

“Soooo, I’m not in trouble?”

“Professor knows about your sneaky behaviors already, y/n. Did you forget he can read minds? See through walls?” Shit.

You look down sighing. “Nothing gets past him. Seriously.”

“Nope.” Scott leans back on his hands. “But since he’s okay with it, so am I. Plus, Rogue told me last week.”

“Ughhhhh!” Embarrassed you put your head in your hands. Or course, Xavier & Scott knew. How could you be so dumb?

“So, when do these kick in? Sure could use it right now….” Scott looks at you smiling again. He’s amused at your embarrassment.

“It takes awhile…maybe another 40 minutes…?” You say looking away. You can’t look him in the eyes or, well, eye right now.

He laughs again. He believes it’s a placebo that’s making it seem like his headache is fading already because normally he wouldn’t be able to even move right now.

“Y’know…you’re kinda cute flustered..”

He says it so quiet you almost don’t hear it. Shocked you look back at him.

“What? Cute?”

He just nods and goes back to looking ahead at the garden in front of you two. Still shocked you just stare at him for a bit and then look at your feet. Your heart is beating quicker now and okay, why is your face heating up? You’re starting to think this is more than just a crush at this point. Not when everything he does make you feel like this.

You two sit and enjoy the sunset in silence as Scott noticeably relaxes more and more. It was only about 3mg so he shouldn’t be too affected. Just enough. He’s slouched on the bench now, it’s honestly a very rare sight to see him slouched…well, anywhere. He’s smiling at nothing again. You look at him as you literally watch him enjoy his first high. His red visor of course hides his eyes but you imagine they’re red now like yours. Deep down you’re just glad you could help him and his pain ease. And you’re a lot happy that you’re not getting expelled from the school.

Flowers grow at your feet as you just stare at him, heart fluttering. The soft warm light shined on his blissed out face, making him glow beautifully. You notice his relaxed strong arms and his soft pink lips and now tinted pink cheeks. He turns his head slowly to you like earlier except more relaxed. His dorky smile in full view now makes your heart skip a beat and you face heats up more. The flowers grow taller and there’s a slight breeze.

“Y’knowwww? You’re reallyyyy pretty…and kind….i like you, y/n…” He says it slow with that same smile.

You struggle to respond with anything more than, “Thanks, Scott…” because oh my god?!? Holy shit?? Scott Summers just said he thinks you’re pretty. This evening couldn’t get anymore magical.

You spent the rest of the evening watching the sunset with him as he laid a head on your shoulder. High Scott was quiet but definitely more laid back and more open. You enjoyed it a lot. And when it got fully dark you helped guide him back inside just to sit on the couch and enjoy each others company once more.

[ryin-silverfish]

Nezha's Power Catalog: FSYY

Well, since @journeytothewestresearch has pinged me and @ruibaozha in an ask way back when, we are doing a catalog of Nezha's powers together. I'll be taking the FSYY part.

Google Doc Version

...

Disclaimer: I'm not counting powers from his treasures, such as the Wind-Fire Wheels giving him super speed and allowing him to take flight. 

I'm also excluding the invisibility talisman Taiyi drew on him in Chapter 12, since, unlike his Three-headed Eight-Armed Form, it's not a skill or permanent alteration.

...

Pre-resurrection:

Advanced physical maturity - I don't know what to call “A newborn baby being able to jump and run around right after emerging from a ball of flesh”, but this is probably it. (Chapter 12)

Unusual height - 6ft tall 7 years old kid, though this might just be a result of FSYY's weird sense of scale. (Chapter 12)

Super strength - A 7 years old kid killing Li Gen the Yaksha with a Qiankun Ring to the head likely counts as super strength. In Ao Bing's case, he drags him off the steed with the Huntian Sash first before the bonking. (Chapter 12)

Still, his later beatdown of Ao Guang and being able to draw the Qiankun Bow no one else could lift? Yeah, definitely super strength. (Chapter 13)

Five Elements Travel: Earth - After Ao Guang storms off to make a complaint to JE, Nezha uses Earth Travel to go to Taiyi's abode and ask for help. It's activated by grabbing a handful of dirt and tossing it into the air. (Chapter 12)

Travel to the Celestial Realm - After Taiyi puts an invisibility talisman on him, he goes to wait for Ao Guang under the Celestial Realm's gates. (Chapter 12)

Dream Communication - Talking to Lady Yin in her dream after his suicide. (Chapter 14)

A generic ghost power, as shown by later instances of Wen Zhong and Yin Jiao's souls warning King Zhou in his dreams, before they go into the Terrace of Investiture. (Chapter 52, Chapter 66) 

Efficiency at granting prayers - After Lady Yin builds a temple for him, he is said to be able to fulfill all the wishes of his worshippers, from granting blessings to warding off disasters.  (Chapter 14)

Materialization - After Li Jing's destruction of his temple, Nezha goes to protest to Taiyi, and the narration says that “After receiving incense and worship for half a year, Nezha is able to take a form and voice himself to some extent.” (哪吒受了半年香烟，已觉有些形声)

It is implied here that ghosts can become corporeal again via people's worship, though, from the looks of it, Nezha has only become visible and audible, and doesn't have a physical body yet at the point of the temple's destruction. (Chapter 14)

Post-Resurrection:

Unusual height (Again) - He grows from 6ft to “1 Zhang 6 Chi” after his resurrection, which is about 15-18 ft. (Chapter 14)

Spear arts - Taught by Taiyi. (Chapter 14)

Samadhi Fire - When Wenshu ties him to the Flying Dragon Pillar and orders Jinzha to whip him, he is described as “blowing out Samadhi Fire from his seven orifices” (打的三昧真火七窍齐喷). This may or may not be metaphorical. (Chapter 14)

It must also be noted that FSYY's Samadhi Fire is not the Red Boy-exclusive special attack of JTTW, and multiple Daoists from both Chan and Jie Sects are able to use it.

The best example is when Nezha and his brothers, Lei Zhenzi, Huang Tianhua, and Weihu try to burn Ma Shan with the Samadhi Fire on Jiang Ziya's orders, which doesn't work because he's a lampwick spirit, who proceeds to escape through the flames. (Chapter 63)

Lotus Body: Immunity to soul-based attacks - In Chapter 37, the narration then explains that all beings of flesh and blood possess the Three Souls and Seven Spirits, and Zhang Guifang's spell works by forcefully scattering them. 

Nezha, because of his lotus body, does not have souls, thus granting him immunity to the attack. 

This will become a recurrent thing. Here's a list of all the soul-based treasures and spells that fail against Nezha:

Zhang Guifang's Unhorsing Spell (Chapter 37)

Zheng Lun's nose beams (Chapter 57)

Chijing Zi/Yin Hong's Yin-Yang Mirror (Chapter 60)

Guangcheng Zi/Yin Jiao's Soulfell Bell (Chapter 65)

Qiu Yin's Red Pearl (Chapter 74)

Fa Jie's banner (Chapter 79)

Long Anji's Paralyzing Ring (Chapter 79)

Bian Ji's Spectral White Bone Banner (Chapter 84)

And here's a collection of his sassy responses: 

“Bastard, I'm staying on these wheels and you ain't calling me off them!” (Against Zhang Guifang)

“Dude, are you sick or something, blowing your nose at me like that?” (Against Zheng Lun)

“Idiot, it's just a red orb. What's so special about it, huh?” (When Qiu Yin tells him to take a look at the pearl)

“Your ring sucks, check out mine!” (To Long Anji, right before bonking him with the Qiankun Ring and killing him)

Lotus Body: Resistance to physical attacks - Spells can't knock Nezha off his wheels, but weapons like Yang Sen's Sky-opening Pearl, Wen Zhong and Zhao Gongming's whips, and Guangcheng Zi/Yin Jiao's Heaven-turning Sealstone can. (Chapter 38, Chapter 42, Chapter 47, Chapter 63)

However, he doesn't seem to suffer any lasting injuries afterwards. The only non-magical/poisonous injury that sticks for a while is some bruises, from getting hit in the face by Deng Chanyu's Five Light Stones. (Chapter 53)

Lotus Body: Immunity to diseases - When Lv Yue puts his plague pills into Xi Qi's water supply, the entire city falls victim to the sorcerous plague, save for Nezha and Yang Jian, because of the former's lotus body and the latter's Ninefold Mystic Arts. (Chapter 58)

Later, Yu Hualong's five sons create five bushels of poisonous poxes, which are spilled all over the Zhou camp from the air, giving everyone magical, five-colored smallpox.

Once again, Nezha is immune, and Yang Jian, knowing that the Yu brothers are up to something, gets the hell out of dodge before the pox spell is unleashed. Cue Nezha complaining of them “Pulling a Lv Yue again”. (Chapter 81)

Immunity to the Soul-Killing Banner (戮魂旛) - The treasure in question belongs to Yu Hua: when raised, it unleashes/turns into multiple streams of black smoke that covers the victim and whisks them away. (Chapter 32)

Subsequently, he tries to use it against Nezha, but Nezha just grabs the smokes, seizes the treasure, and stuffs it into his Leopard Skin Sack. This may or may not fall under the umbrella of “Immunity to Soul-based Attacks”. (Chapter 33)

Counterspell: Pearl Attack - Feng Lin can blow a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, which contains a bowl-sized red pearl that functions as a projectile weapon. Nezha just points his finger at the smoke, and it fizzles out. (Chapter 36)

Supernatural endurance: Red Sand Formation - One of the Ten Formations, it contains three bushels of red sand, which can create a giant sandstorm that reduces any humans and immortals who enter the formation to powder. (Chapter 44)

Nezha and Lei Zhenzi are assigned to protect King Wu, the only person who can break the formation…because Fate Says So, but is also Fated to get trapped in there for 100 days. So naturally, Nezha and Lei Zhenzi get stuck in there alongside him. (Chapter 49) 

When Old Man of the South Pole breaks the formation, Nezha and Lei Zhenzi are fine, but King Wu is already dead and has to be resurrected via a magical pill. (Chapter 51)

I'm not putting this under Resistance to Physical Attacks because, unlike the weapons, I'm unsure as to whether the red sand is magical in nature.

Resistance to poison: Blood-melting Knife (化血神刀) - Limited, since Nezha is still severely injured and incapacitated by Yu Hua's new treasure (made by his master Yu Yuan). However, for mortals, a wound from the knife is pretty much an insta-kill. (Chapter 74)

Three-headed, Eight-Armed Form - After Nezha is injured by Yu Hua's knife, he's taken back to Taiyi's abode to recover. When he's ready to leave, Taiyi offers him three cups of wine and three “fire jujubes”, which gives him his iconic multi-headed and armed transformation.

Unlike in JTTW, FSYY's Nezha has 8 arms instead of 6. Presumably, the 2 extra ones are used to wield the Yin-Yang Swords, the pair of weapons Taiyi gives to him alongside the Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover…which never get used afterwards.

Upon switching to the multi-headed and limbed form, his appearance also changes into a blue-faced, red-haired, fanged monstrosity, which is not too dissimilar to the fierce guardian deities of esoteric Buddhism. (Chapter 76, Chapter 79)

Also, amusing reaction to his new transformation: “Dangit master, how am I supposed to use all these arms? They are like ugly branches on a tree.” (Chapter 76)

Sagehood in Flesh (肉身成圣) - Nezha is said to attain the status post-war, alongside his brothers, Li Jing, Lei Zhenzi, Wei Hu, and Yang Jian. 

Basically, immortality and godhood, but it doesn't require you to die in Ancient China's Bloodiest Bureaucracy Recruitment Program first. (Chapter 100)

[sandwitchstories]

Hi and hello!! When you’re done with anything you are doing, would you consider writing a Kyojuro x Orian reader (preferably gn!afab but just gn is fine too!!) Something like, Kyojuro got a recommendation from Tengen about one of the Houses in the red light district, so he goes there to relieve stress after a tiring series of missions maybe? Dunno, I don’t exactly have a strict vision so I’d love to see yours! Stay safe and healthy <3

Hey there @starvedluci ! They say the best things in life are worth waiting for, and I hope this is one of them! Thank you for your patience and for being my first request! Now lets get to the good stuff, huh?

Red Light Special

If you would prefer to read this story on AO3, click here !

Summary: Kyojuro takes Tengen's recommendation and visits you, a talented and in demand oiran, in the red light district to blow off some steam.

WC: 1000+

CW: MDNI, SMUT, no pronouns/gendered terms used to describe reader, AFAB reader, AFAB terms used to describe readers body, pet names like beautiful and gorgeous, vaginal sex

As an oiran you had experienced many different types of clients. Male, female, and more. Some were more refined than others. Some were better in bed than others. Some you hoped to never see or hear from again. 

But when it came to the passionate, gorgeous man between your thighs right now? You’d give anything for him to stay where he was, anything not to let him go, anything for him to keep fucking into you so damn good. His thick length dragged within you, stretching you deliciously and hitting every sensitive spot you had in your gummy walls so fucking perfectly…

Kyojuro Rengoku slid his calloused palms up the backs of your smooth thighs until they reached your ass cheeks. He gripped them in his large hands, squeezing and helping to guide your rhythm as you rode his throbbing cock. He sucked on his bottom lip as he watched you move.

You were stunning, absolutely stunning. Your eyes were closed, your head leaned back slightly as you moaned in pleasure with your mouth slightly slacked. Your breasts bobbed and swayed with your efforts as you rolled your hips, hands braced on his chest, lost in the moment.

He spread his knees a little wider and dug his fingers into your soft flesh. He planted his feet on the ground and moved his hips to meet you, thrusting deeper inside of you. He let out a groan of pleasure when your nails began to leave red crescents on his tanned skin. 

He sat up, hands under your ass pulling you close to him, grinding you down on his shaft as you sat in his lap. Your hands cupped his face and you kissed him passionately, sucking on his tongue and nipping at his bottom lip. He kissed down your neck, across your shoulder. Your buried your hands in his flame colored hair and held his head to you as you let him control the rhythm and speed of your hips. 

Kyojuro detached his lips from your shoulder to lean you back so he could take your nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the hard sensitive tip. He pulled on it until you cried out and your hands and his hair tightened. He let it go, watching the way your breast bounced upon release. He switched to the other breast, his hands now roaming your back as you rocked back and forth. 

You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he moved you both so you were laying down with him between your legs. He braced his hands above your shoulders, knees pulled up under your spread legs. His cock bullying itself into your tight pussy over and over again. 

You raked your nails down his chest, fingertips tracing the defined lines of his abs, biting your lip as you watched his muscles ripple with his movements. Truly, he was beautiful. An absolutely stunning specimen of masculinity. You slid your hand between your bodies, two of your fingers sliding to spread your pussy lips, moaning as you closed your eyes and took in the feeling on your fingers of his cock fucking so perfectly into you. 

You started to move your hand back only for him to catch your wrist. There was a twinkle in his fiery gaze as he kissed your palm. He took two of your fingers into his mouth, leaving behind spit on them and guided your hand back to your cunt. He smirked at you. “Go on.”

You took the que and began to run your fingers over your sensitive clit. You teased the hood back on the swollen pearl, fingers alternating between taps and swirls over the bundle of nerves. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your muscles were starting to tense. Your messy cunt started to tighten on him for the nth time this evening as another orgasm approached. 

“That’s it! That’s it!” He encouraged, moving to be resting on his shins. He pulled your hips tighter into the cradle of his lap before pinning your legs spread apart with your hips rolled back. His eyes were glued to where you were joined. He loved the sight of his cock splitting you open. Your pleasure slickening and shining the thick length of him as he rammed his cock into your cervix over and over again.

“‘I’m gonna cum!” you told him, your breath quickening and your body trembling.

“Good! That’s what I want! You’re doing so well!” he encouraged, his fingers digging into your plump thighs as he fucked down into you. “Cum for me, beautiful. Cum all over my cock.”

You cried out his name as your orgasm flooded through your veins, your hips trying desperately to buck up into his, trying desperately to meet him thrust for thrust. He let out a growl, moving forward to fully pin you down in a mating press. You yanked your hand from between you, his groin dragging against you in this position giving you all the friction your oversensitized pussy could handle. Your nails raked down his back to his perfect ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. 

“Be good for me, and take it. Take what you’re given. You can do that, right, beautiful?” Kyojuro gave a particularly deep and hard thrust, making you cry out in pleasure as his hips snapped forward. 

“I can! I can! Don’t stop, Kyojuro, don’t stop!” You whimpered, pulling him closer.

"That's what I like to hear." He kissed your cheek, as he rested on his hands near your head.

His thrusts began picking up speed again, slamming your hips together. The squelching noises of your juicy cunt and the slapping of your skin together filled the room, mixing with your moans and grunts of pleasure to form a symphony of sex. Your eyes rolled back into your head and your toes curled in mid air. 

Life was about living in the moment as it happens, not letting it pass you by. You had never felt more alive than you did right now. You envied whoever got to keep this man in the end. But in this moment right now, he was yours and yours alone.

Your hands tangled in his hair pulling his lips closer to yours. You nipped and pulled at his bottom lip, smirking up at him and issuing a challenge. "Is that all you've got?"

[sonkitty]

Face

I don't know what I'm talking about.

But I'm writing and sharing below because sometimes it helps me find and figure out something.

I do think I found some ideas worth exploring.

Some of this has been discussed before, and I have linked it in my posts for reference, but it's not a discussion I see much acknowledged since.

A lot of fans refer to the swap in Good Omens season 1 as a "body swap."

I've noted before that I regard it as an "appearance swap."

We're going to talk about a puzzle where this widespread language choice significantly increases the difficulty because the story wants you to really consider this possible difference for the events in S2.

Demons are vulnerable to holy water.

Angels are implied to be vulnerable to hellfire, but S1 takes extra care in making sure to never confirm that's actually true.

We know holy water hurts Crowley in a church in 1941, killed Ligur in a doorway on Earth, and killed Usher in a bathtub of holy water in Hell. Its threat to demons was confirmed for us 3 times. The first such time alerts us that Crowley's time on Earth does not make him magically invulnerable to it.

Meanwhile, hellfire itself is not even named as hellfire in the dialogue until S2. In S1, we just see fire in Heaven to hurt a presumed angel figure and make the mental connection that's what the fire must be. When that fire is spouted out at 3 angels by the demon disguised as an angel, Crowley, those angels back away in fear. They are so scared, they touch each other, which is not something they often do by the way. Aside from their own fear, they remain unharmed and are not burned by it.

In 1967, Aziraphale says the following to Crowley, "Holy water won’t just kill your body. It will destroy you completely."

Aziraphale tells us outright, then and there, holy water kills a demon body. The "you" Aziraphale refers to is something like a spirit, essence, or soul. The supernatural beings are mindful to avoid these words to describe themselves or each other, but that is my best estimation of what they mean. Beelzebub does something similar with Gabriel, describing his memories in the fly as "all your...you". I'll be using "spirit" myself for this post. In Aziraphale's concern, if the demonic body and the demonic spirit die, that will kill the supernatural entity that is known as Crowley.

To them, a "body," at least a physical one that exists on Earth, is more like a fragile container for their spirit.

The text from Agnes' prophecy did not use the word "bodies." It used the word "faces."

God repeats it for us in Her narration with, "They needed to choose their faces wisely. And so they had."

No character in the entirety of S1 said the bodies were swapped.

Because they weren't.

In order for the being who looks like Crowley in the bathtub of holy water to not die, that had to be not Crowley's demonic body and not Crowley's demonic spirit.

There is more than just a "body" and a "spirit" to comprise a supernatural entity in the Good Omens universe. They also have a "face."

Another way to consider the "face" is like a "mask" or "costume."

It's the appearance they give to the world around them. This appearance is not necessarily limited to being visual. It could refer to how they sound and how they smell too.

When Ligur is killed by holy water, his body and his spirit are gone. He has been destroyed. Some of his "face" remains because you can see his clothing on the floor if you look. The story further draws attention to the clothing being related to the "face" by having Aziraphale use a tartan collar when disguised as Crowley.

When Aziraphale is discorporated through the teleportation circle, his "body" is damaged enough that his spirit and face cannot stay on Earth. His spirit ascends into Heaven. No clothes remain, but unlike Ligur, he will return in the story and even get himself back on Earth in a body.

When Aziraphale arrives in Heaven, he then has his "face" wearing different clothes and his "spirit."

The quartermaster looks at Aziraphale as he realizes that Aziraphale does not have a body.

We, the audience, see Aziraphale has a body in Heaven, but the story is telling us that the body we see there in Heaven is not a physical, corporal form that can be used on Earth.

Aziraphale touches the clothes passed to him in Heaven, and one of his hands is briefly translucent to again show us that this body we see is not the same physical body we've been seeing.

On Earth, when Aziraphale talks to Crowley without a body, he is shown as partly translucent and wavy so that we know he still does not have a body. He has a face. We see he is still wearing clothes.

We see him as a reflection in Crowley's sunglasses. We are given visual clues that something is there to give an appearance if anyone could see him in a body, but they can't, because he doesn't have one.

Crowley is hinted to briefly see this face in the sunglasses though the reflection does not remain. Even so, Crowley still looks at the space as if he is looking at Aziraphale.

The story takes this face clue further with when Aziraphale enters Madame Tracey's body. He shows up as a face in her mirror reflections twice. Both times, the body itself is not fully shown.

That meets a Rule of Three with him appearing in reflections 3 times while on Earth without a body of his own.

In S2, the "face" matter is brought up again with Beelzebub.

Crowley asks Beelzebub in S2E1, "Is that a new face?" He did not ask if Beelzebub got a new body.

The matter is repeated when Gabriel is recovering his memories. Beelzebub tells Gabriel they got a new face. They did not say they got a new body.

In the case of some supernatural entities, their own power or essence, their spirit, does affect their face. One such way is that they have special eyes. This factor is especially true of Crowley and Gabriel.

That makes a face swap much more tricky to perform.

I think Crowley's demonic spirit is why he has snake eyes, and aside from this face swap instance in S1, he prefers to wear sunglasses to usually hide his eyes instead of make any effort to not have snake eyes.

So, it's actually a really big deal that Aziraphale was able to take on Crowley's snake eyes and with Crowley being able to take on Aziraphale's eyes over his own snake eyes. The difficulty would also be part of why the other supernatural entities did not catch on. It never even occurred to them it's possible for the eyes to be swapped on the face because the spirit affects the eyes.

How did Crowley and Aziraphale manage that?

I think it has something to do with their shared memories.

When Gabriel is without most of his memories, his eyes are usually not purple. The purple still shows up in reaction to something Crowley says or does twice but is otherwise not on him.

So, memories can be manipulated to alter the eyes shown on the face to the supernatural entity in question.

S1E3 established for us that Crowley and Aziraphale have several shared memories.

I've been trying to work out how supernatural beings recognize and sense each other. I don't have it all figured out, but my current progress suggests that the memory does impact the recognition of the face, especially how S2 demonstrates the matter between Gabriel and Michael. She is closest to (overtly) recognizing Gabriel as Gabriel when the fly is closest to him in S2E2. I think Saraqael knew but is keeping quiet on purpose. After Gabriel regains his memories in S2E6, first we see Crowley and Aziraphale, who already knew he was Gabriel. Then Michael is the first supernatural entity shown to be hit with the recognition that Gabriel is himself again.

I don't know the full logistics of the face swap spell in S1, but I think the point is that they could do the swap the way they did because of the two having shared memories and then manipulating the memories of what the other supernatural entities expected of them. The demons were looking for a snake-eyed being with sunglasses who looked like Crowley, so they found one. He has mostly similar clothing after all. Similar logic applies to the angels finding a being who looked like Aziraphale.

What does it mean to take something at face value? You go by its appearance.

I like to imagine that Crowley himself is actually still impacting Aziraphale using his snake eyes because once Crowley is in hellfire is when the camera work helps us be more sure that those yellow snake eyes on Aziraphale are the type where the yellow spreads over more of the eyes for Crowley. His eyes get like that when he's feeling more demonic than human.

He and Aziraphale are linked by the spell currently cast on them both.

Why am I going on about faces and bodies?

Because of the Metatron.

You may have seen this recent chess theory going around that is based on thinking the Metatron is in the coffee shop in S2E5 during and after Nina's ball invitation.

I approached the puzzle, figured out the guy in post 1 isn't the Metatron, and relayed this information in a reblog. The puzzle itself is really, really hard if you don't let this idea stop you: Why show us the floating head in S2E6 if the Metatron had a body in S2E5 in Nina's coffee shop? That would rather defeat the point or value of such information.

In my eyes, that is not misdirection. That's cheating.

But I wanted to check the matter thoroughly to well, check myself. Am I being too presumptuous? Just because I think no one should have to check frame by frame through a window pane with obscuring reflections to solve that particular puzzle doesn't mean I'm right. How many amazing puzzles have I found and partially solved checking frame by frame myself? Plenty.

Granted, they are more like advanced puzzles confirming the easier ones, but...what if I were wrong? And even if I were right, I might learn a few things in the process of playing the puzzle, which I did.

One such thing is that the story went through a lot of effort to make it look like a potential Metatron, only for it to not be the case if you look very, very closely. That means there is indeed an intended value of the floating head shown in S2E6.

As an aside and not for the rest of this post, another idea given in the play is to make something look as if it switched, as if a trick were being performed, and then don't actually make the switch at all.

But let's get back to the face thing.

Consider this puzzle: That floating head of the Metatron that we see in S1 and again in S2, is that a face or is that a body?

Neither or both. It's a head.

Again, I don't know what I'm talking about. I am talking through and writing through this confusing matter because I want to know if a solution is findable as is.

When Aziraphale says, "Is anybody there?" in S1, the Metatron does not answer. Instead, he waits until Aziraphale says he (Aziraphale) is ready to take this all the way to the top. Then the Metatron head appears. And what's on top of a body? A head.

In S2, Aziraphale asks, "Is anybody there?" again, and this time, the circle lights up more quickly. So, for now, I think that means Saraqael is the one answering. Michael and Uriel will be shown as busy walking and not attending to the circle when they pass by Crowley and Muriel. Saraqael won't show up to Crowley and Muriel until after Gabriel, Nina, Maggie, and Aziraphale are upstairs in the bookshop. By then, the circle is active but not actually discorporating any more demons.

So, here's a question.

How did the Metatron get a body on Earth and why does it matter?

My current line of thinking raises even more questions. It goes...

The Metatron does not have a body at all, still. He has a face. He has a face that looks like a body thanks to the supernatural zone Crowley and Aziraphale activated for the ball. The part of that zone that phases out humans has stopped doing so. But Crowley's sideburns still haven't fully shortened, so some magic of the zone is still active, or at least active enough, that the Metatron can have this face. Maybe he is a human, or part-human entity, who could not get into this space, until now.

If he isn't plain human and is still a supernatural being, the reason this face can touch things as if the Metatron did have a body is because of that supernatural zone and/or that halo explosion. Whatever magic allowed Aziraphale to touch the clothing passed to him in Heaven when he was discorporated in S1, that same magic is what allows the Metatron to touch things now on Earth with this new face.

Now mind you, he still has to manage things. He wears baggy clothes to contain whatever his supernatural body is really like or maybe help anchor his special head onto something. He sometimes puts both hands fully in his pockets because he can't actually always show his hands as solid and physical. They have that same thing happen to them that Aziraphale showed us in S1. The Metatron has the hands out when he is ready and can do so.

But here's a really big question if that's even remotely true.

Why oh why would Crowley and Aziraphale let that happen? Now the obvious answer would be they didn't mean for it to happen. They had something else in mind for that zone, such as to help protect the street and the humans. They didn't know that once things changed, they changed to such a degree as to let this threatening Metatron character in.

And....for me...in my own imagination...for now...here's the real "something else" reason: It's what helped Gabriel and Beelzebub escape.

Gabriel and Beelzebub hold hands, sing, light up the standing chandeliers surrounding them, and they fade away, presumably running off to Alpha Centauri together.

How many times have we seen a supernatural character fade way into a whole other star system because they just will it to be so and want to leave?

Never.

They are effectively prisoners to their respective head offices.

When Crowley wanted to run away to Alpha Centauri, he was going to take his car. Instead of just fading away into the star system alone, he went to his flat to use the holy water and protect himself.

In S2, The Metatron just got here through all this other strange magic. The angels took the lift with Crowley. They did not just plain teleport down. Demons were shown rising from the Earth in S1 and discussing having to take the stairs up from Hell to Earth in S2.

When demons arrive in the bookshop in S2E6, they have basically been invited due to the halo explosion. They couldn't just show up otherwise. They wait until the doors are closed by Muriel before they arrive.

The angels who teleport back to Heaven when the Metatron instructs them to might be teleporting that way because they are on the teleportation circle. They are using it the way Aziraphale was supposed to use it in S1 if he had been properly prepared. Michael looks down to check her position before they leave. Angels teleported up before in S1, but they did so out in the street, not in a building.

Indoors and outdoors makes a difference to supernatural beings, I think. As stated, I've been trying to study how they sense each other, and it's a big, confusing, unsolved mess, which is part of how this whole post came about anyway.

The double-hand pocketing I said the Metatron does tends to happen when he is outdoors, but he also does it in the scene right after Crowley left when the Metatron informs Aziraphale he entrusted the bookshop to Muriel (so it should be in "good hands").

There is also the possibility that actually Crowley and Aziraphale wanted the Metatron to show up because they are playing a long game, and his being there is part of some bigger plan, but the plan needed some improvising as things happened in the story.

Then still another question is, "Is the Metatron a demon?"

After all, if he were just an angel, he wouldn't have to go through all this effort. Even if he were a special celestial being, why is the only time we see him in Heaven when he still had to be contacted and channeled into a screen? The floating head is not shown "in person" in Heaven, ever.

If he is a demon, why does a floating head demon pretending to be an authority get to do so much in Heaven already and what's the big difference to him that he wants to take his face and head up there now?

Is he indeed a murder hornet as other fans have speculated through other posts? If he is, does he plan on killing the bees who are angels?

The whole "first" and "last" thing with Crowley and Muriel might then make more sense. It's some kind of shield to protect the angels from whatever this murder hornet is planning?

I feel I'm losing some threads here, but sometimes it helps to make mistakes so that corrections can be found and made.

I see clues that the Metatron is either a demon or a unique being, possibly part human due to his age and facial hair.

I think I'm onto something with the Metatron face idea here at least.

Maggie is something like a tool to the Metatron as well, I believe. I've already said so as one of the factors I considered strong on the theory that the Metatron is editing the Book of Life. Maggie says "face" three times during the demon invasion with the last such instance being when they finally get their invitation from her and as the last word of that sentence.

I have no idea why "foam" matters, but she is the one who asks Aziraphale if he has any fire extinguishers that spray foam. After we see that yes, fire extinguishers with foam are being used, the next scene in Heaven finally shows the Metatron clearly on screen for the first time in the entire season.

And that's what I've got for now.