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haeryna · 3 months

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the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

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beelmons · 9 months

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i’m begging on my knees for reader w/ a hand kink🙏🏻 i’m down bad for spencer reid’s hands

"The buttons are just so small!" Spencer complained.

"And yet, you refuse to get an iPhone." JJ mocked him.

"And end up with no buttons? No thanks." he said as he continued to struggle writing a text message that Hotch needed.

You, few meters away, were delighted to see him still grapple with the device. The reason? the way his fingers moved was just a sight to behold.

Having a hand kink was hard when the person you wanted to bone the most had such gorgeous assets, it was even worse that he sat in front of you during work and you were forced to look at them almost every day.

Granted, you had learned to behave yourself, you were no animal, but when your hormones took control over you during an specific time of the month, it was impossible to control the way your body reacted.

Hence, why you had to push your legs together, trying to hide from the world the fact that you were pooling in between your legs. It was hard not to imagine his slender fingers trailing up your thighs as you sat in the conference room, teasingly slowl, painfully high. You always pictured him as a tease, the kind of man to drive you mad with want before even properly touching you.

You had dreamed of the day you finally were able to seduce him, to persuade him to do his will with your body, to have him so drunk on you he had no choice but to take at least one part you wherever you were.

You indulged in the unlikely scenario of being in a hidden corridor, one no other soul would visit, having your pussy defiled by the extremities of his hand, so velvety and uncomplicated, as if it had waited a lifetime for their presence.

You fantasized about his touch on your cheek, sweetly feeling the warmth you emitted, tender and loving, all before they slipped past your lips, ordering you to suck as he pounded into you with relentless hips. All while his other limb curled around your your throat, allowing you to have his ethereal digits as a collar.

"...okay?" you heard the faint echo of his voice, as you had many times when your vivid imagination took control.

"...are you okay?" okay, perhaps it was all too clear, all too real.

Your head darted out. Without realizing, you had hidden them behind folded arms on your desk.

"I've been calling your name." he clarified, with worry, as you looked at him "Are you alright? You look flushed."

Sort of pathetic to not be able to handle a single fantasy without turning into a mess. But, alas, reality was not a fanfic someone else could control to mash you together, was it?

"I'm alright." you managed to say.

"I think I should take you to the infirmary." as his hands darted out to touch your forehead you couldn't help but flinch.

"I'm okay, Spencer." you gently moved his arm away, if he touched you any longer you would have had to take care of it yourself, and the FBI bathroom was not exactly the cleanest, contrary to popular belief.

"If I can do anything to help..." he tried to reassure you.

'You could let me jump on your fingers' you thought, but that was certainly not an approved treatment for the cold he obviously thought you had. You did your best to put on a smile and grab at his forearm with gratitude.

"You know what? One of these days, I'll take you up on that and leave myself in your capabe hands." you teased, and he, of course, completely missed your inuendo.

"Can't wait!"

#spencer reid x reader smut #THIS IS SO LATE #ALSO #THIS IS NOT VERY SMUTTY BTW #req: spencer #i think imma start tagging my requests #req: smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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nonnieapple · 7 months

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⛈☂ Strings☂⛈

• (Marshall Lee x reader) • r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 2 4 2 5 w o r d s • p o s t e d 24.09.2023 🌧 navigation ☔️ SEQUEL • s u m m a r y: marshall likes snooping around, and you like peace and quiet.

The rain fell on the grasslands of Aaa and surrounding areas. The animals in the forests hid under trees, candy citizens ran into bars, and Marshall Lee floated high off the ground.

He floated to the empty Tree House. The willow branches dripped with cold water and glistened like rhinestones. He tapped on the glass. No one answered. Adjusting his jacket and turning invisible, he let himself in, prying the glass up with his claws. It opened with a slight screech. He flew in, shaking the raindrops off his leather jacket.

The water dropped to the wooden ground. He looked up and flinched, turning visible as he was met with a figure on the couch in the kitchen.

They held a left-handed guitar made of bone, decorated with worn stickers. They held a pick shaped like a heart as they strummed out chords of Francis Forver, strumming the e-string angrily each time they messed up, concentrating so hard it was almost intimidating.

Marshall floated above them as he zipped up one of his pockets.

You jolted up, stopped playing, nearly dropped your guitar, and with wide eyes watched as some guy appeared in front of you.

He had mint skin, black hair wet from the rain, black and red eyes you never got used to, and an expression that confused you. Maybe fear, or worry. You screamed, and he did as well. It was Marshall Lee- kind of a friend of a friend with whom you occasionally crossed paths.

Kinda a person you thought was mad cool, but not someone you were close with.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. His voice was calm and bordering on deep. You hadn't heard him speak much, and it was startling.

You raised a brow.

"I could ask you the same question!" You jabbed.

He floated down, eyes staring at your instrument.

"Nice guitar." He bent over to inspect it. You pulled away. His tone was between mocking and impressed. Personal space breached, raise the grimace shields.

He was acting quite calm. You were, too. Internally, though, you screamed, your heartbeat wild, hands drumming on your thighs.

"Um... thanks? Did Fionna invite you over?" You changed your posture from a slouch to the straightest and stiffest pose known to Aaa. Even your tone was stiff. You weren't a person who was comfortable with others around, often becoming a robotic, clumsy mess, and you were even worse with people you barely knew. Cool people you barely knew? Instant death.

"Nope."

Your face flashed with concern. Marshall wasn't... malicious, but he was trouble, and glob forbid he dragged you into some antics. Can't a guy practice some guitar on a rainy afternoon?

"As LSP would say, I'm crashing." He shrugged casually.

You strummed your guitar. It was still connected to your demonic amp. The amount of demons you had to fight to get that thing was crazy. But it was worth it. The sound was clear, the controls were precise, and it sounded otherworldly, especially with deadstortion.

He floated near you and nearly stood on his feet. The silence hung in the air as your eyes drifted around the kitchen.

"Mind if I try?" He spoke gently, far more soft compared to his usual sass. It could be something he put on in front of groups of people. Or maybe your deer-in-headlights demeanor was enough to make even him more careful.

Your eyes fell on him and you folded your arms, not before gesturing to the instrument swiftly.

"Uh no, go ahead." You nodded and raised your shoulders, tense.

Marshall scooped it into his arms. It fit great. His long fingers spanned across the frets nicely. He had hands made for playing guitar, and that made you envious. Even with practice, you couldnʼt reach so far. He positioned himself, floating mid-air.

Your face was a mix of curiosity and surprise.

"No pick? Just... fingers?" You raised a brow, the words coming out faster than you thought. He laughed lightly, and you flushed.

"I'm good with them." You choked on air as you sat stiffly, stifling a nervous laugh. If you were flushed before, now all your blood was definitely in your awkward face.

He strummed and his long ears perked up at the sound.

"You're left-handed?" He bit the edges of his black lips, positioning his fingers. He didn't need to take so long doing all that. He was stalling. Curious.

"Not quite. A dragon tore off one of my left fingertips, so I can't hold down the frets without gross pain," You rambled quietly as you rested against the red cushions.

He played what was definitely, unmistakably Misirlou. You had to close your mouth at the speed of his wrist. Looking at that shit was enough to give your wrist a sprain.

He lifted his hands, holding the guitar loosely as he stared in your general direction expectantly. You cleared your throat.

"You seem good at left-handed playing. I've only seen you play right before." Marshall's expression flashed disappointment for a second before returning to a chill one.

"I've had a thousand years to learn, if I couldn't play either, that would be embarrassing." He smiled. Damn, that guitar suited him...

"Same with money... imagine being poor after like a thousand years..." You tapped on the table, lost in thought, partially about vampires, but mostly about a vampire.

"I can't, I own half of Aaa and my mom is the ruler of the Nightosphere. I used to own this Tree House!" He motioned to a part of the tree, and objects lifted to reveal an M carved into it.

"I remember that. I wasn't there but I heard about it." You nodded.

"Guess you've heard a lot about me?" He lifted his brows.

"Quite a- oooh. I get it."

"Get what?" A grin tugged at his lips.

"That wasn't an actual question, was it?" You squinted up with a smug expression.

"Wow. Pretty and smart. Package deal," He said with the perfect delivery- just the right amount of casualness for the line to be missed unless you were paying attention. And you indubitably were; you dearly hoped he didn't notice and you came off as cool and mysterious. Your flush and rigidity betrayed your discomfort.

Marshall passed you your guitar, and you leaned on it with your elbow, brushing hair away from your face as you looked around the room, searching for something interesting.

Dishes. Fridge. Your shaky hands. Paintings. Tree bark. A bug in the corner. Inevitably, your eyes fell back on Marshall. Your attention jumped from his clothes to his hair, to his inhuman features.

"Why are you staring?" You blanched and your expression fell. You met his eyes. If you looked down you'd be even more suspicious.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Your eyes are...." You trailed off. Shit. You weren't looking at his globdamn eyes, but you weren't about to say "Nice cock, bro".

"Horrifying? Demonic?" You swore he floated closer to you. You recoiled, pursing your lips.

"Interesting."

Good save, idiot.

His arrogant little facade faded, replaced by tired disappointment.

"It's also interesting how you're already tall but still float."

He shrugged.

"Alright, I'll bite." He stood on the ground. You finally got a good look at his frame and height, and man was that good look good. Every part of him was long and slim, from his ears to his eyes and fingers, and who else knows what. You slapped yourself internally at the thought.

He sat down next to you, setting his right calf onto his left thigh. He inclined his head.

"Not literally." He flashed the tips of his fangs. He fished a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, turning to you and slicking back his drying hair.

"You want some?"

You grimaced.

"No. and you shouldn't smoke inside. And this shit is bad for your vocal health." The rain still raged on, yet it felt like a calming ambiance when in the comfort of the Tree House.

"Aww, come on. Just once," He beckoned sweetly, nearing your face, feigning demonic puppy eyes. You shook your head. He set them down on the couch, as well as a red lighter. So much of his stuff was red. It was like if you had everything made outta food.

"It's like murder. It's a slippery slope."

You bounced your leg, checking your phone. You scrolled through your notifications. As empty as your heart.

"Sometimes I check my messages and realize just how bitchless I am..."

"Can't relate. I have lots of friends and messages...." He spread his arms over the backboard, gesturing in the air as his eyes wandered. He had a real soulful expression, as though he was speaking of glob itself.

Marshall dropped his arms, sighed, and frowned.

"Okay, yeah, I don't have anyone close to me. Sure I hang out with people but I'm kind of a loner," He admitted quietly, reminiscent of your insecure and anxious tone.

"You saw me earlier. I'm not much of a loner as much as I am a loser..."

"That's where we're different. But together we make a lone loser." He gestured to his unbeating heart, speaking like a damn motivational speaker. You smiled.

"Perfect."

A silence lingered. If not for the raging storm out, you would've heard the caw of a cyclops crow.

The silence turned strange as you made prolonged eye contact. Your proximity sent you into a fever. He didn't have any warmth- it felt like you had stolen all of it at once.

You tore your gaze away, opening up a portal with your pick and putting your guitar in. Marshall's eyes widened and he jerked in surprise.

"Where did that go?!" His voice strained against serenity.

"Uhhh I put it in its case. Between the Nightosphere-" You lifted your hand.

"The Nightosphere?" He interrupted with worry.

"-And the deadworlds. Let me finish." You readjusted yourself, unamused.

"Oh, I'll let you finish alright. Not like that. Are you finished?"

Your mouth was agape.

"You made that a lot worse than it was. Yes, I'm done."

You would never forget the awkwardness that plagued you throughout that whole interaction. It would forever be embedded in your cringing bones.

You browsed on your phone, refreshing your conversation with Fionna. No updates. Not even a bad meme. Sad.

Your arms rested on the table as you set your phone face down. You contemplated making tea.

"Why haven't we talked much before?"

That was a difficult question. You braced yourself as you turned your head to him just a tad.

"Honestly? I was... afraid of you. Not because of the demon vampire thing," You quickly defended yourself.

"That's surprising..." Marshall mumbled.

"Sorry." He raised his arms defensively.

"But because you're... I'm gonna sound stupid." You laid face down and laughed nervously, in sync with the drops hitting the windows.

"I doubt that. You're not Fionna."

The corners of your mouth tilted up, and you shot the vampire a dirty look.

"Shut up!" You laughed hollowly, surprised by his little joke.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

"You're cool, and I thought you were better than interacting with someone like me." The words did sound stupid coming out of your mouth. The thoughts were completely irrational.

"Someone with mutual interests and more to talk about than hacking monsters or angry exes?" He quirked a brow.

"I'm not trying to rationalize it. Also, I have plenty of exes to talk about." You raised your phone.

Marshall's face was practically begging you to not.

"Please don't."

"Fine. You're safe. For now. One was a demon." You glared at a picture of them with you. He peeked over your shoulder.

"That's interesting...."

"You said not to talk about it." You leaned on your palm, feigning disinterest.

"I take it back, come on! Don't leave me hanging," He asked desperately, ghosting his black claws over your now upright back. You shuffled away.

"You'll have to beg-"

Your phone buzzed. You hummed with displeasure, reading the message right away.

"Glob. You gotta go, Fionna will be here soon," You urged as you stood up, straightening out your clothes and stretching as you paced around the room. Marshall paused for a second and decided to stand up.

"You're right. No fun getting caught." He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking to the window. You watched his movements carefully as he opened up the window, putting his foot on the ledge, and floating, defying gravity.

As he left, you were hit with a lot of. A lot. Just, a lot.

You put the kettle on the stove, sitting on the counter, relaxing, finally.

You had always... wanted to hang out with him, but, damn, you didn't think it'd happen. And he wasn't as intimidating as he came off! You felt all funny inside, still absolutely high off the adrenalin of it all. When you saw him appear it was like your body got restarted.

The water began to boil, and you poked at dry leaves of colorful tea.

You were surprised as Marshall flew back in. You didn't have time to process a thing. He observed you as you lounged with owlish eyes. He picked up his lighter and cigarettes. He hadn't looked away.

"Forgot these." He glanced from the objects to you. He headed for the window again. He hesitated.

"These aren't tobacco, you know."

You raised your brows. He flew out as the front door rattled and Fionna and Cake yelled loudly. You waved to Marshall, only to see that he was gone, and the window was open.

You sat like a statue with a mystified gaze.

The kettle whistled and Fionna waved her hand in front of your face.

Did you fumble or did you fumble hard? Maybe if you had taken the offer, something else would be ha...

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Cake frowned, poking your knee. You moved the kettle and Fionna turned off the stove.

"No, I saw a... yep, saw a ghost. A cool ghost," You replied breathlessly and somewhat robotically as you finally managed to focus on the two. You poured hot water from the kettle into your favorite mug. It had a cat on it. Dropping tea leaves into the water, you watched as the leaves seeped a bright ruby, and swirled with darker, near-black swirls.

Rain still poured outside, albeit it was far calmer than previously. You hoped Marshall was fine.

You held up two more mugs. You smiled awkwardly.

"Anyone want tea?"

#☂️#w r i t i n g #a d v e n t u r e t i m e #adventure time #marshall lee x reader #marshall lee

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little-bloodied-angel · 3 months

Text

This morning I woke up and my right leg was screaming. The pain was so intense and brutal it was what woke me; I had to sink my teeth into my pillow and scream, too. Every cell from hip to knee is (yes, still) burning, liquid acid going through my veins; and the calf is strained and cramped and protesting the extra work as hard as it can.

I still had to use the bathroom; when I tried to stand up it buckled, like a lightning bolt went through it, and I went to the floor. Even just rotating in bed to get out was agonizing on my hip. My foot was numb, full of pins and needles for lack of proper circulation.

I limped there, dragging my leg behind, supporting my weight on the wall and gritting my teeth. The process of sitting down and standing up almost made me black out.

Over the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror and willed myself not to cry. When I came back into my room I caught sight of my medications on my bedside table, the myriad of pills I'll be taking for as long as I live. The Tramadol on top of them was mocking me, and I did cry then.

I remember everything my body could do. I remember flying. I remember the fall, too, the agonized animal screams that seemed to come from outside my body, the brutal audible SNAP of muscle and tendon, the bone against the hardwood, the hushed whisper-shouts of "get help -she can't move -she can't walk -god, her leg!"

The doctor's office and his placid smile as he told me I was "lucky" because my ACL didn't require surgery at the same time he delivered my death sentence, or what may as well been.

"A career in ballet is no longer an option for you".

I know he didn't understand how people who dance with the goals I did live and die for that dancing. He thought I was young and I'd find something else to do. I was young and a part of me died in that accident and I had to bury it.

I remember a different doctor, a different office, her worried face scanning my psychiatric history like she thought I'd kill myself right in front of her because of the diagnosis as she told me what I already knew.

"You have fibromyalgia. I'll prescribe medication to manage it, you have to be careful with it. But..."

But it'll never get better. You'll always hurt. It'll get worse. I already knew that. I just wanted someone to sign on it, because it turns out that when doctors perceive you as female, complaints of chronic pain tend to fall by the wayside, particularly if you have a history of mental illness. She took me seriously. She warned me about my leg, about what a flareup would do somewhere I'm already hurting all the time, and I kept myself from barking at her I fucking know, that's part of what it's been like for almost a decade because at least she believed me.

I mourned my body again, all the same.

I lay in bed gripping my thigh, trying to will the spasms down, trying to decide between yelling and sobbing, trying to figure out why: had I slept on it wrong? Was it the weather? It had hurt after walking too much on Monday, but not as much as I expected; a delayed reaction? It didn't matter, in the end; it wasn't going to take the pain away.

I thought of Izzy, as I tore my lips apart with my teeth to feel something that wasn't my damn leg. I thought of how real he felt, the tears and the screaming, the gritted teeth, the suicidal loss of identity. The loneliness. I thought of his stubbornness, his progress. How much both of those realities meant. How they thrashed it all, in one moment, and all but told us, the ones that feel like him, "when the desire to die comes back just do it. You've outlived what you were, so who you are has *had enough*", and my mouth tasted like blood for more than one reason.

He meant so much. He could have meant so much more. And we have to wipe the spit of this insult from our faces and carry on and accept it was part of a happy ending.

He might've forgiven it all; he was a character and you made him. I don't. I won't. I'm still here, with my pain and anger, and I refuse to die so the people who want me gone can live in peace. And I refuse to be quiet and accept that for a happy ending I should fade away.

If you can't understand this anger, at least don't insult me and others like me by telling us there's no reason for it.

I'm hazy with pain and aware that I'm rambling. But whatever I don't bleed in ink will poison me.

#me #personal #izzy hands #abuse tw #israel hands #israel basilica hands #negative #swearing #disability #actually disabled #chronic pain #blood mention #ofmd critical #ableism #our flag means death critical #suicidal ideation #suicide mention #tw suicide

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 3 months

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Can you write a story where Ballister somehow gets Nimona’s animal shapeshifting powers and Nimona has to train him on how to properly change forms?

Hi hi!! Great asks, here you go!

I hope you don't mind a bit of canon-divergence, I was inspired to include a bit of Comic Nimona's backstory (although this drabble takes place in the movieverse) and I would be lying if I said I wasn't inspired by @ambrosius-goldheart 's ideas about the Institute turning people into monsters!

Ballister darted through the streets, panting, trying to run through the day's events in his head.

He was supposed to be knighted tomorrow, and for some reason, he'd started feeling weird, and he'd turned into– it was so absurd.

He turned into a dog, a street dog, mangey and aggressive. When Ambrosius saw him outside their apartment, he'd screamed and chased him with a broom. Headlines were already running about how the controversial knight-to-be disappeared, abandoning his kingdom and his post like a coward. Some people were worried about assassination. Some people were angry at him. He had no idea what Ambrosius was thinking, or himself, for that matter. How did this happen?

Was he a monster, some sort of shape-shifter? Was he born that way? He couldn't have been! He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, he just had that physical with the Institute doctors, they'd given him some shots– but they wouldn't have done anything to him. This kind of science didn't even exist!

Yet somehow he'd started frantically flopping from animal to animal without control, until he got stuck like this. He managed to find some old ruins to hide in. Gloreth, he couldn't speak, how would he get help, how would he switch back!?

His ears pricked and his head whipped around. A pink dog was in the room– he hadn't smelled it– since when could he smell things? He growled and flattened his ears.

Then, the dog spoke.

“Hey! I'm Nimona, it's okay, I know you're freaking out. I know you're human, you can relax.”

Ballister blinked. What? If this dog was talking, surely it was a monster, but then, wasn't he?

She continued. “I'm gonna help you shift back into a person, it's really not hard once you get the hang of it.”

Ballister yelped when the dog materialized into a teenager in a flash of pink light. “See?”

Tail between his legs, he backed up warily. What was this thing? Why was it helping him?

She crossed her arms. “Are you gonna freak out? Or are you gonna let me help you?”

He paused for a moment and sat down. He didn't really have much choice here. She made a mocking expression, “Good doggy!” Ballister grimaced.

“So, the first thing you're gonna wanna do is relax– difficult, given the situation, I know. But just take a deep breath and let all your limbs turn to jelly!” Her arms dangled in an exaggerated, unnatural way, like the bones inside disappeared. Trying not to be terrified, Ballister tried to relax his strange new body.

“Cool! So now, you need to picture what it feels like to be a human, remember what it feels like to stand on two feet, to have hands and legs and all that other crap, picture the form in your head, and now– I know I'm contradicting myself– you gotta tense up everything inside you, thinking only of the form you wanna take.”

Ballister swallowed. This he could do. He pictured it, how his hands felt, how his face felt, how his body looked, and he stiffened his shoulders.

“Keeping that image in your mind, clearly, relax all that tension at once!”

Ballister closed his eyes and exhaled, relaxing everything. When he opened his eyes, he was in his original body. He gasped. “You saved me! Thank you!”

She shrugged. “No prob. But in case you're planning on tattling to the Institute, keep in mind you're still not used to these powers. You're gonna wanna keep me around.”

“Powers?” Ballister looked down. “How did this even happen? I'm not– I'm not a monster–”

Nimona rolled her eyes. “Please. You think you're the first person the Institute wanted to disappear?”

Ballister's eyes widened. “They wouldn't.”

“They did,” Nimona hissed. “Of course, I'm the original, but about sixty years back they managed to nab some of my blood and have been using it to fuck with people ever since.”

Ballister shook his head, “There's no way– wait, SIXTY YEARS!?”

Nimona rolled her eyes. “Yes, keep up. Listen, this is only gonna keep happening. So, if you wanna learn to control your powers, and if you wanna protect the people you care about, we're gonna have to work together. Deal?”

Ballister was uneasy. He wanted to run home to Ambrosius, to tell him what happened. He wanted advice, but if he rejected this– apparently sixty year old child– he might become emotional and switch forms again. He might do it in front of someone and be banished from the realm as a monster. He didn't have a choice.

He reached out and shook her hand. “Deal.”

#nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #ballister boldheart #nimona 2023 #nimona fanfic #fic request

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lilithlinen · 28 days

Text

"Daddy" - Tex Johnson x You

Requested by @sunnythebunny7 ❤️❤️I couldn't sleep last night thinking about your request😂❤️.

WARNING: If you're uncomfortable with the 'Daddy kink' don't proceed.

You're laying on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching tv and holding onto one of your plushies for comfort while Tex is away, he said he is on his way, but he hasn't arrived yet. Then suddenly, you hear footsteps, and you sit up thinking it's Tex. "Tex?" you asked softly.

The door opens, and to your surprise, it's not Tex. Instead, it's one of his colleagues, laughing and holding a large Sanrio plushie. He tosses it to you, mocking, "Look at our little baby, still holding her stuffed animal!"

You look stricken, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Your eyes well up with tears, clutching your plushie tightly. Tex's colleague snickers, invoking memories of past incidents where you had been made to feel weak and childlike.

The colleague continues to tease you, commenting on how you should be embarrassed about your collection. "At your age," he smirks, "you should have outgrown this kind of thing."

You try to defend yourself, your voice shaking. "They...they help me cope. When things get hard..." you trail off, unable to continue. The hurtful stares and condescending laughter leave you feeling like a small child again - a helpless, vulnerable target for others' amusement.

Meanwhile, Tex returns from his errand, hearing the commotion. He storms into the room, taking in the scene before him. His face darkens as he fixes the colleague with a cold stare. "You wanna apologize," he growls, making his displeasure known.

The colleague laughs it off, dismissing Tex's anger. "Calm down, buddy. It was just a joke."

But Tex isn't backing down. His hands clench into fists, and his voice drips with menace. "This ain't a joke." He steps closer to the man, his eyes never leaving the intruder. "You don't know what kind of pain this young lady has been through, and you have no right to belittle her coping mechanisms. If you don't watch your tongue, I swear I'll break it for you."

"This," he says through clenched teeth, "is someone I care about." His gaze shifts back to you, softening slightly. A protective fervor burns in his eyes. "You touch her again, and we'll see if you're laughing then."

The tension in the room hangs thick in the air. The colleague hesitates, sensing Tex's unrelenting aggression. Finally, he relents, offering a begrudging apology, "Alright, alright. Sorry, kid. I didn't mean any harm."

Tex nods, satisfied if not entirely pleased. "Good. Now get out."

Once the colleague leaves, Tex turns back to you, offering you a reassuring smile despite the tense situation. Those dark eyes seem to promise safety, a shelter from the harsh world outside. With a hand lightly brushed across your cheek, Tex murmurs, "Don't listen to them, kiddo. They don't know shit."

He glances at the Sanrio plushie lying forgotten near you, picking it up gently and inspecting it carefully. A playful glint appears in his eyes as he adds, "Besides, I think this one's kinda cute. Reminds me of something."

You sniffle, wiping away your tears and holding the plushie close. "It's just...embarrassing. They make me feel like I'm weak, or immature."

Exasperation mixed with fondness colors Tex's deep timbre. "You ain't weak, sugar. Far from it. Just...different than most. Don't let 'em make you doubt who you are." He says, cupping your chin tenderly.

His fingers trace along your jawline, tracing delicate bone structure. As his thumb strokes over your quivering lip, Tex continues, "You give me head like no other, sweety. So experienced, so skilled. What about that is childish?"

Your lips tremble, relief washing over you at Tex's defense. You manage a faint smile and blush deeply.

His fingers trace imaginary patterns on the plushie's fabric, his grin becoming wicked. "Well now, aren't you the lucky one. Daddy's here to protect you. From monsters and rude men alike."

He lifts an eyebrow, a lascivious gleam entering his eyes as he compares the plushie to its supposed inspiration. "But hey, sweetheart...why stop at cute toys when you got the real item right here?"

You blush deeply, averting your gaze. But there's a hint of curiosity too, peeking through your embarrassment. "T-...The real item?"

Tex chuckles, the sound low and throaty. His finger traces a path down your jawline, stopping just below your chin. "That's right," he whispers, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. "The big doggy, waiting to take care of his pup."

Your heart races, pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. You swallow hard, trying not to betray your nervousness. But Tex's words ignite a strange mix of fear and anticipation within you.

"What do you say, kiddo? Want some comfort?" He tilts your head up delicately, capturing those wide, anxious eyes. Tex's voice drops to a velvety purr, "Want me to show you what a real daddy can do?"

You swallow again, hesitating only for a moment. Then, surprisingly, you find courage to meet his gaze boldly. "Show me, daddy..." you breathe out softly, your voice wavering with trepidation.

A slow, satisfying smile spreads across Tex's face. The corner of his lips curls up as if savoring a juicy secret. He sets the plushie toy aside, replacing it with his warm, calloused hand on yours "Very well," he purrs, leading you toward the bedroom. "Let's get started on your education, darling."

As you enter the bedroom, Tex strips off his jacket and shirt nonchalantly. He begins undressing slowly, enjoying every second of your breathless gaze. The muscles of his broad shoulders glisten under the dim light, punctuated by the trimmed beard and mustache framing his features.

He lies on the bed, stretching languidly. A smirk plays at the edges of his lips. "Join me, kiddo."

You hesitate, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in your mouth. Despite your apprehension, you feel a surge of desire course through your veins. Nervously, you follow his command, crawling onto the bed beside him.

Tex reaches out, grasping your waist and pulling you close. His fingertips dance along the curve of your spine, drawing gentle circles that send electric sparks coursing through your body. He nudges you down onto the mattress, positioning himself behind you.

"Ready for daddy's lesson, little girl?" he asks, his voice husky with lust. His thumb brushes against your sensitive spot, eliciting a gasp from you. "Or do you want me to go easier?" adding, "There's no rush, we've got all night." His voice is velvet-soft, filled with understanding and promises of patience. Slowly, Tex shifts his weight over you, pressing into your back gently. Your naked bodies brush against each other, your pulsing arousal barely hiding beneath the sheets.

With practiced ease, he reaches around, tracing his fingers down your core. He strokes your clit gently, coaxing out the wetness that already starts to flow freely. A soft, encouraging word escapes his lips: "Remember, no pain, no gain."

You whimper, arching slightly into his touch. Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to control your breaths, but the building sensation seems too powerful to quell. Tex's fingers slide deeper, massaging your insides tenderly. Each stroke makes you even wetter.

Slowly, Tex withdraws his fingers from the wet heat between your legs. He leans down, kissing your neck passionately while his erection nestles against your backside. "It's time," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "For your first real taste of daddy's love."

Despite the apprehension, you can't help but moan softly at his proximity. Your fears seem to fade a little under his touch, replaced by anticipation and need.

Feeling your discomfort, Tex pauses. A plan forms in his mind, a way to make this less daunting for his 'kiddo'.

Reaching out, he grabs one of your plushie from the end of the bed and presses it into your hands. "Here," he murmurs, his voice filled with affection.

As he guides himself towards your entry, his movements are measured and careful, affording you every opportunity to adjust.

You clutch the plushie tightly, heart pounding in your ears. You feel a pang of relief at his consideration, unexpected tears pricking your eyes. With a shuddering breath, you nod in agreement.

"All right," Tex murmurs, his voice steady yet laced with tenderness. He pushes forward slowly, the tip of him breaching your tight entrance. A wave of sensations washes over you, mingled with both pleasure and slight discomfort. Your entire focus centers on the feeling of intrusion, the unfamiliar invasion of this intimidating figure.

He remains still, allowing your body to accommodate him. Tex's breath hitches, waiting patiently for your signal.

"How does it feel, baby?" he croons softly into your ear, his voice riddled with concern and anticipation. "Can I move?"

Trembling, you nod slightly, too overwhelmed to speak clearly. Every fiber of your being is focused on handling this new experience, his girth stretching your tissues, filling you in ways unimaginable until now.

Tex nods, his forehead resting against the curve of your shoulder blade. With a deep breath, he begins to thrust - slow, deliberate strokes designed to acclimatize you to his presence. Each movement claiming you territory after territory.

As Tex thrusts into you, he whispers encouraging words, urging you to vocalize your feelings.

"Tell me how it feels, kiddo," he pants heavily, his voice hoarse. "Do you hurt?"

You gasp, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. You rock against him, struggling to find a comfortable position. The familiar plushie rubbing against you provides small consolation amidst the foreign invasion.

"I... it burns," you admit hesitantly. "But...it also feels good."

A satisfied rumble echoes from Tex's chest. His pace quickens, seizing the opportunity to please you despite your apprehensions. "Of course it hurts," he acknowledges, his voice becoming even sexier with raw intensity. "This is how you learn, honey. This is how you become mine."

His thrusts intensify, deeper now, each strike stoking the fire of passion that had begun to simmer between them. Despite the initial discomfort, warmth blossoms within your core, fueling your desire further.

In turn, you moan loudly, completely engulfed by the carnal exchange.

"Does it hurt?" Tex repeats, checking again even though his body tells him otherwise.

Your response is a fierce shake of your head. "No, it's... it's getting better, daddy," you gasp, your voice trembling. "I think I'm starting to like it."

His heart swells with pride. Releasing one hand, he trails his fingers up to your nipple, pinching gently. Your eyes fly open wide, your face clenched with pleasurable pain. "That's what I want to hear, sweetheart."

With renewed vigor, Tex drives into you, more forcefully than before. His dark eyes blaze with hunger, piercing your skin with each percussive thrust. Slowly, rhythmically, you succumb to the dance, matching his movements with growing enthusiasm.

The plush toy bounces along, an innocent witness to your wild union. Its synthetic fur rustling against your movements.

"Is it enough, daddy?" You question, your voice thick with need. "Can I touch myself?"

Tex smiles against your skin, pleased by your submission. "Of course, darling," he responds, his own breathing labored. "Make yourself feel good."

With trembling hands, you reach your hand down between your legs, your fingers slick with your shared arousal. You rub circles on your clitoris, making the ache more intense. Your hips buck in time with his thrusts.

The room spins around you, the world narrowing down to just this moment. Your fingertips press harder on your clitoris, matching Tex's increasing intensity. Surrendering to his dominance and your own lust, you meet each surge of his hips eagerly.

As he nears his climax, Tex cradles you tightly, holding you close as if afraid you might slip away. The tempo increases, driven by pure instinct and desire.

Finally, he groans loudly, his semen flooding into you. Your inner walls pulse around him, milking him dry of his seed. Even the plushie beneath you vibrates faintly from the force of your orgasm.

When it's over, Tex collapses onto your back, panting heavily. He holds the stuffed toy against your cheek, murmuring apologies in a voice thick with satisfaction.

"Sorry, kiddo," he says softly. "Maybe next time we'll use something else."

You giggle into the embrace, exhausted yet content. Your breathing slows down gradually, your heartbeat synchronizing with his.

Still, the plushie rests between you both, evidence of your shared adventure. A testament to a night neither of you will soon forget.

You turn towards him, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy, mirrored by the shimmer in his own.

"I don't mind, Daddy," you confess shyly, tracing the outline of his jawline. "It hurt, but it felt good too."

His smile softens, his fingers delving into your tousled hair. "That's my brave girl," he coos proudly. "You took everything I gave, just like a good girl."

Slowly, you unwind from each other, limbs dragging reluctantly apart. He helps you clean up, tenderly wiping away residual fluids. Your gazes lock once more, this time-sharing unspoken promises of future nights ahead.

"Come here," Tex signals, opening his arms.

Without hesitation, you crawl up, snuggling against his firm chest. He wraps you both in a warm blanket, your hearts beating harmoniously.

Sleep takes you both gently, wrapped protectively in his arms.

#tex johnson #tex johnson x you #tex johnson x reader #tex johnson imagine #swedish dicks #keanu reeves #keanu reeves gif #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanuedit #keanuverse #keanu characters #smut #daddy’s babygirl #daddy's good girl #daddy k!nk #keanu #keanu reeves imagine

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andhumanslovedstories · 9 months

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hey!! just wondering, is your blog @ from a longer quote/piece of writing, or is it something you came up with yourself? i feel like i've heard it somewhere before, and it would be really useful to know for a project i'm working on!

thanks <3

my url is from Terry Pratchett's Wintersmith, a Tiffany Aching book:

“To animals they were just the weather, just part of everything. But humans arose and gave them names, just as people filled the starry sky with heroes and monsters, because this turned them into stories. And humans loved stories, because once you'd turned things into stories, you could change the stories.”

My blog title "I'm here but once to the marrow of my bones" is a line from a translation of Polish poet Wisława Szymborska's poem, which I've seen called "Attempt" and also "An Effort". Most of the versions you can easily find online have a different translation of the last line ("I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones") but I've always preferred the other translation, which is the first one I encountered when I was very young in my aunt's copy of Sounds, Feelings, Thoughts: Seventy Poems.

"Attempt" Ah yes, sweet little song, how much you mock me, for even if I go o'er hill, I won't bloom as a rose. Only a rose blooms as a rose, no one else. That's for sure. I tried to put out leaves, to turn into a bush. Holding my breath--so it would happen quicker-- I waited for the moment of budding as a rose. O sweet little song, you show no mercy toward me: I have a body that's unique, immutable, I'm here but once to the marrow of my bones.

versus this translation

An Effort Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it. I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me. Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

#i love multiple translations of poems #I actually prefer much of the language in the second one #but the last line of the first one changed me #i have no idea which one is more faithful to the original and i also think we could have a fun discussion of what a faithful translation of #a poem is #wislawa szymborska

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lightlycareless · 2 months

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I’m not super far into your main story(I think I’m in the early 20s in chapters) but I keep up with spoilers and I read a paragraph or two of new chapters since Naoya isn’t in the parts I’m reading at and I’m desperate for even a little taste of him lol but on to my main point: Since I’m only getting snippets here and there so I’m sorry if you’ve covered this already but since Y/N is close to Mai and Maki, does Naoya’s relationship change with them as well? Canonically, he was horrible to them so I’m curious to how their relationship is in your story.

Hello!!!

Hhaha I'm sorry for the lack of Naoya in certain chapters—I tend to isolate him when I need aspects of the story to move forward... or prepare everything for a certain happening hehe. But I promise, he's going to be more present in the future :> ❤️

Now onto your ask... this a good question I've asked myself once or twice in the past actually, and you've now presented me the perfect opportunity to dive a bit more into it!

I believe Naoya wouldn’t really interact much with Mai and Maki because of the age gap.

The only reason he did so in the manga (at least in my perspective lol) is because they represented two of the most controversial matters for the Zen’in estate: daughters of the main branch, and without a cursed technique (or weak on their terms).

Thus, for someone like Naoya, who always seemed to have a bone to pick with literally everybody, how could he not mock them?

But of course, once you came along and everything else happened… he’d find himself rarely interacting with them.

It’s kind of what Gege once said of the type of relationship Ranta had with them:

Probably when they’re much older they would interact a bit more with Naoya, but it’s mostly to make fun him or so lol. You’re actually the reason they don’t go that crazy on him, solely tolerating him for your sake. And any serious matter is directly dealt with you instead (I gotta say, their mom doesn't like it when they talk to you or Naoya, but she's long stopped trying to correct them—you know, traditional matters of the Zen'in.)

Also, let’s not forget they’re essentially on the “I wouldn’t trust my kid with them” list because of the previous reasons so....

Now, if you want to get into the intricate details:

They think Naoya is straight up weird. As in, a nerd, goofy, makes questionable choices and still acts like a clown. They would make fun of his anime preferences and how intense he can get when discussing it, and his dyed hair, which in their eyes looks really, really bad—like, weren’t any other styles to chose from?

So yeah, we can see that if things had turned completely different, with them being a bit more confident, Mai and Maki would actually have the upper hand when mocking him lol (specially Maki!!!). He just has a lot of things to be picked on 💀 you’re amongst the few (if not the only) person that truly likes him.

And there you have it, what I think their relationship would be like further down the road.

It’s slightly based on my own experiences, like, I had younger cousins (older too) and sure we got along well and whatnot, but I interacted much more with those my age. And it wasn’t until the younger ones were like teenagers/adults that we got along much better. Those older than me didn’t change much lol so it really depends on the person.

I hope this was enough to answer your question :> but as always, if you want me to be a bit more specific, or you have a scenario in mind, just let me know and I’ll do my best to answer ❤️

Thank you for sending in this ask! Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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once-upon-an-imagine · 2 years

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If you are still taking dialogue request, maybe James with twin sister reader, like how she is in the “10 Things I Hate About You” series (but before she’s dating Sirius) and she gets hurt really bad during a Quidditch match as the seeker, maybe during a bad storm, and James being the dramatic and protective older brother he is freaking out while trying to take care of her? Thank you and I truly love your work!

yeees for protective!Jamie 🥺 and thank you so much for liking my work, love 😊

"Nobody touch her!" James said as he made way for Fabian and Gideon as they carried you into the Hospital Wing.

"James-"

"Don't talk! You're hurt-"

"I think I just broke my arm-"

"You're not a Healer, you don't know that!" he yelled.

"Prongs, I don't think that-" Sirius started.

"Shut up!"

"Mr. Potter! What is all this yelling?" Madam Pomfrey said, approaching all of you.

"My sister is hurt!"

"She's hurt because you made us practice in a bloody storm-!"

"Sirius, knock it off!" you told him.

"Hey, I'm actually defending you for once. How 'bout a bloody thank you, Potter?"

"You were the one that bumped into me!"

"I couldn't even see where I was going-!"

"Enough!" Madam Pomfrey yelled. "Mr. Prewetts, place Miss Potter over here, please" she instructed the two boys and they carried you to the nearest bed. "Now, if no one else is hurt, I'm going to have to ask you to leave" she said, calmly. Most of the boys left. Except for your brother and, surprisingly Sirius. And it wasn't long before Remus and Peter joined. "Alright, dear, you should be fine by the morning" Madam Pomfrey said after she finished fixing you up. "You'll just have to stay the night, just in case, alright?"

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey" you smiled, trying not to show as much pain as you were actually in. You had a broken arm, three broken ribs, bruises all over your body, and your head was killing you. "See, Jamie, I'm fine" you smiled at your brother.

"You are not fine!" James said, grabbing Remus' bag.

"What are you doing-?"

"I asked Remus to bring your things" he said, getting your books, your favorite deserts, your pillow, and a stuffed animal out.

"You could have left this in my dorm" you said grabbing the stuffed animal and putting him away.

"Aw, that's lovely, Potter" Sirius mocked you.

"Shut up, Black!" you glared at him. "Jamie, I'm fine. You should go get changed, both of you" you said, looking at Sirius. "You're both soaked, you'll catch a cold if you don't-"

"No! I'm not going anywhere!" James snapped.

"Jamie" you said, grabbing his hand. "This wasn't your fault" you told him.

"But-"

"This. Wasn't. Your. Fault." you repeated.

"B-but you're hurt" he said, sadly. "A-and I made you practice in the rain and-"

"And I'm fine. Just a couple of broken bones" you smiled. "Nothing that hasn't happened before with you as my brother" you said, and James smiled but just barely. "I'll be fine, Jamie" you assured him.

"You guys can go and get changed" Remus said. "We'll keep her company until you get back" he told James.

"Yeah, Remus also brought those board games you like" Peter told you.

"You guys are spoiling me" you laughed before looking at James again. "Go."

"Alright" he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do" you said. "I love you too!"

Once James left, Peter started setting up one of the board games they had brought and Remus went to get you a cup of tea. And you turned to look at Sirius, who hadn't moved.

"May I help you, Black?"

"Uh, you sure you're okay? That was a nasty fall-"

"Aw. Were you worriefd about me or something?" you smirked, making Sirius roll his eyes.

"Shut up, Potter" he chuckled. "I'm just... glad you didn't die, I guess" he muttered, looking away.

"Charming" you smiled and he sighed before he started walking out.

"Well, you're clearly fine so-"

"Hey, Black?" you called and he turned to look at you. "Thanks... for sort of... catching me" you told him.

"You're welcome, Potter" he smiled.

#marauders #marauders imagine #james potter #sirius black #james potter imagine #sirius black imagine #james potter x sister!reader #sirius black x reader #james potter dialogue #sirius black dialoue

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rad-ramenkingles · 10 days

Text

Kinko Revamp Process

Wanted to try something slightly different with this post, call it a little behind the scenes process.

As you all know, I am Ramenking…

I make pixels, and I have done for a good long while, and today to lead up to my next Blurry Boy post, I want to show you a little bit of what my process has been for these revamps. Let's start with Kinko, as he is the first to have been revealed.

So when it comes to Kinkotsuman, out of the whole group I did. He is a character I mainly like for the uniqueness of his look, and the specific body type on him. As a character he is abit of a… Iffy guy for me. Just I'm not the biggest fan of trash Dad’s, like Kinko just falls right into that category full stop guys. Poor Bone Cold. 😔

All that said when approaching him it was quite an interesting task, as he is actually one of only 8 characters from the Kinnikuman franchise I've been spriting since I started in this little pixel square field. I did start other characters but they always were forever WIP stuff. All of those works though are long gone, probably on an old laptop somewhere in a storage room. That said, I at least have Kinko here looking nice and rough.

This period of spriting for myself wasn't the best one looking back on it. Majority of my work was more akin to sloppy edits and recolours trying to fit into a style I had little to no skill at all in. That being said it was still fun to actually make pixels for the first time, so it drove me to further dabble.

That nicely leads us to 2011 Kinko next to 2011 Kinnikuman…

Kinkotsuman and others get a face lift, or just get made for the first time in some cases. What's a bit neat about the Kinkotsuman Pixel of 2011, this sprite was initially a revamp made by an old forum buddy of mine (with heavy tweaks after made by myself). I had a mighty struggle with his head, my brain just couldn't get it and his could, the hair as well I kept having a problem with and Poof all of these issues were non existent, to him. What I really liked about this Kinko compared to the 2009 attempt was the body type actually got closer to what I envisioned. (Still a bit too tall though, and wide to a degree though)

See I've never been a massive fan of slightly buff Kinko as a norm. Not saying it couldn't make for an interesting growth of the character body wise throughout the series. Just in my head, he is Skull and Bones guy, and that type of person shouldn't have to much meat on his bones. All that said I do enjoy me a good character evolution over time chart. Might do one for all the Kinniku Characters like I did this quick mock up of Kinnikuman one day.

Onto now… When I approached Kinko this time, I wanted to try and strike a balance between the newer look Yude does for him, his first appearance look, and the anime look.

So I had examples of all three works as I went to it. I took the 2011 sprite and stripped off the colors and from there I readjusted placements of black lines inside the framework, and trimmed the framework down where I saw fit aswell. Then I laid back in some of the flat Colors across it all when I was happy with my framework. Then came the first run of shades. I take a look, see how I feel, then I will make adjustments where I see fit in different ways, just to get across the “Feel of the Character” that I want to achieve with this sprite.

Aside - |{When I say “Feel of the Character”, I am meaning I want whatever I do, however complex or simplistic it is with my pixels. I want someone to look at that, and the drawn character and be like “Oh yeah, I see it. That's them.” Like I'm not after getting every detail 100% perfect, really if you are working in pixels as small as I am. You flat out can't be. But what I want to do, is get that feel of them across as best as I can. Sometimes that means sacrificing certain elements (You will see that in some sprites to come), other times it means really emphasizing sometimes a single aspect of the sprite. It's a fun little challenge every time, sprite by sprite I have to play with. By no means though am I a master at this pixel thing, nor do I want to disparage others who have a different approach. This is just how I prefer to do it.}|

Next once I got the sprite down, I threw up my faceset. Used my WIP Kinnikuman as a base to make edits to find Kinko in the pixels. I chipped away, and remolded bit by bit until. Poof. I got my faceset I was happy with. (Which I was so happy with, it made me not too happy with the sprite so I actually later went back and made yet a last adjustment after the initial posting. Whoops!)

With all that done, I quickly did up a little I'll call it a “Pixel Showcase”. Gathered some old GameBoy text assets for the lettering, and just free handed some shapes and lines to put Kinko and his Face on display for you all. As the last “Showcase” background I realized was a bit busy for the eyes, and you kind of can't appreciate the sprites on display in it. I still very much like it though, so maybe I'll do something with it later on.

And that is all peeples. My behind the scenes Esque thing, to somewhat build interest for the next Blur Boy coming. (Which will come hopefully soon, if work doesn't beat me down too much before) Hope you all enjoyed this, if it's liked enough I might try doing more in the future as it's nice to almost get my process down for all to understand the approach from sprite to sprite, and for my own benefit as well as most of these ideas and practices aren't written but just in my head.

Until the next Blurry Boy post, I gotta rest my fingers now. Seeyah…

Ramen Out!

#Kinnikuman #Kinkotsuman #Yudetamago #PixelArt #Fanart #Shonen #PixelProcess #Breakdown #KinnikuPixels

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thyandrawrites · 2 years

Note

Is it just me, or does Dabi in the previews look way too... hinged?

Anon, pls... I'm trying very hard to keep my salt at bay dhshjsjs

But since you're enabling me... Welcome to "Thyandra overthinks a single screenshot instead of waiting for the damned season to air like a normal person"

So. This thing.

For the life of me, I can't figure out which scene this frame is supposed to be animating.

The camera angle seems to be someone looking up at him from below, so my first thought was the "sentiment tripped you up, hero" scene

But there's too little fire to be that one.

I'd give it 1/10.

So maybe right after?

2/10.

The little licks of flames and his expression looks vaguely similar, but he's not yet smoking, so that's a no too

0/10.

Now he's definitely smoking, but his facial expression doesn't remotely match up the screenshot. As you put it, it's way too hinged.

This is also a hard no. His face is covered in shadows here, there's too much fire, and I doubt bones would pass up the chance of drawing him like the spawn of hell.

-1/10.

Next up is this. Mmh, this one might be it. The angle is right, and I can see bones making him grin his little evil raccoon grin here. But we're missing the usb stick and the "checkmate, you fool" look in his eye. But the former might be just a frame later, and the latter one of the usual times where bones flattens his expressions into "stereotypically evil guy"

I'd give it a 6/10.

Am I nitpicking? Yes, yes I am. It's what I do best.

*checks notes*

Next up up is this face here. There's the steam, there's a grin, there's the camera angle, there's no big blast of fire, and this is where he says the line in the voiceover ("there are no real heroes").

But I refuse to think this is how they chose to animate such a poignant scene for his arc. No way would they do him so dirty in the arc where he's about to expose his real identity.

Rating... How to rate this. My heart says -20/10 but my brain says it's at least a 3.

Which brings me to—oh no. Oh fuck no.

Could it—

Oh gosh. Could it be the forbidden [redacted] scene???

Ewwwww. No.

Not even considering that as an option. Just no. I'm not jinxing it.

*shoves all ratings in a shoe box and pushes them under the bed with a broomstick*

I have decided that the most likely guess is the stalling when Tokoyami shows up. There's the smoke, the grin now looks distinctively mocking rather than furious or unhinged like in the scenes above, and if you squint really hard it resembles the one in the screenshot, maybe. At this point the fire would've almost died out enough to appear like tendrils of azure flames.

So... Uh...

Separated at birth /j

Self-delusion/10.

(insert "they don't know" meme edited to say "they don't know Dabi is a pretty boy")

#Ali replies #Bnha #They do my boy so dirty

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noahsbookishcorner · 11 months

Text

A summary of our first dnd session

DM: You all walk into a tavern. There is a guy in cloak sitting at the bar and there's a group of people celebrating. What do you do?

The rogue: I walk up to the guy in the cloak and steal his drink.

DM: You... Okay, fine, you do that, but act it out first.

The bard: I cast vicious mockery on the wolf. *Rolls really high*

DM: the wolf takes 5 psychic damage...

DM: You enter the witches hut. I want you all to roll for perception.

Druid & bard: roll high enough

Rogue: rolls a 3

An hour later:

Rogue: I DON'T HAVE MY ROPE ANYMORE??

DM: You encounter a frog and a snake.

Druid: I cast speak with animal to speak with the frog.

DM: Roll for animal handling

Druid: *rolls 13 +5*

DM: You can now talk to the frog

Druid: Hi frog. Are you okay?

DM/frog: I think the snake wants to eat me.

Rogue: I SNEAK ATTACK THE SNAKE

DM: Roll for strength

Rogue: *rolls a 20 -1*

DM: Not only do you kill the snake, you obliterate it into the floor. There is nothing left of it.

Druid: Alright, I take the frog with me. It's name is Steven.

Druid: I check to see what kind of frog it is.

DM: It's a poison dart frog.

Druid: I let the frog go into the river, but check if it's poisonous first.

DM: It's a poison dart frog????

Druid: I let the frog go and wash my hands in the river.

DM: You wash your hands in the river and immediately four dead fish float to the surface.

The bard & the rogue are in the mean time filling our water bottles in the river.

Druid: I check to see if the fish are poisonous and I also check the water.

The bard: I cast a minor illusion on the water to make it appear safe.

DM: The water isn't poisoned, but the fish are.

Druid: Great.

Rogue: I grab the fish, without touching them, and take them with me.

A few moments later

Druid: drinks water

DM: *grabs their phone and sets a timer* You just drank poisoned water, what do you do?

Druid: EXCUSE ME?!

Bard: Would you be interested in these four fish we caught earlier?

Innocent NPC: Oh, you have no idea how much I need them! I didn't catch anything today and I have to feed my family.

Bard & rogue: *hand him the four fish* bye now

DM: You now need to exit the village.

Druid: How many guards are there?

DM: One with a dog.

Druid: Well, since I'm not a wanted criminal, I just walk out with the rest of the crowd.

Rogue: I crouch down and try to hide in the crowd. *Rolls good on stealth*

Bard: I try to do the same. *Rolls low*

DM: The druid and rogue succesfully walk out the village, the bard however gets recognised as the person who cast charm person on another guard earlier.

Bard: I run for it.

Druid: I call the dog to distract the guard.

DM: The guard is succesfully distracted, but now asks you why you called the dog and if you know the half-elf that just ran away.

Druid: I persuade him that she's just my crazy friend and that I called the dog because I wanted to pet it.

DM: Fine, you can pet the dog.

Druid: This counts as a minor rest right?

The group succesfully descends a cliff to find a place full of bones and a small trinket on top of them.

Druid: I check to see if they're elephant bones.

DM: Upon closer investigation you realize that they're not elephant bones, but human bones.

Druid: I check to see if the bones are cursed. *Rolls a 1*

DM: The bones aren't cursed.

Druid: I check to see if they're cursed again.

DM: You can't do that.

Druid: Since the bones are cursed I walk back up the mountain.

Bard: What kind of trinket is lying in between the bones?

DM: It's something silver.

Rogue: I touch the bones

DM: The bones turn into skeletons.

Bard: I attack the skeleton. *Rolls a three*

DM: You miss. The skeleton's embarrassed for you.

Next round:

Bard: I attack the skeleton. "Rolls a three*

DM: You miss again. The skeleton feels even more embarrassed.

Next round:

Bard: I cast vicious mockery on the skeleton.

DM: Roll please?

Bard: *Rolls a three again*

DM: You mock the skeleton, but he at this point just feels sorry for him.

Rogue: I use the skeleton's thigh bone and use that to attack him.

DM: You succesfully attack the skeleton with it's own thigh bone.

*Skeleton focuses his attention on something else*

Rogue: I sneak attack the skeleton. *Rolls a 20*

DM: You obliterate the skeleton. There's nothing left of him.

Rogue: Except his thigh bone.

DM: No the thigh bone is gone as well.

Rogue: WHAT

Next round:

Rogue: *crying in a corner*

DM: Do you want to help the bard?

Rogue: Yes.

DM: Roll for strength first.

Rogue: *Rolls a 3 -1*

DM: You cannot find the strength to do anything other than cry over the thigh bone.

DM: You arrive back at the village. There is a guard standing there.

A few moments later.

Druid, the only innocent of the group: *gets arrested*

Random crew member: We know for a fact that our captain isn't straight. From personal experience.

Bard: We just saw him walking around with a girl though.

Crew: Trust me, he's gay.

Rogue: I scare them away with my straightness. *Rolls high*

DM: The rogue was too straight for the crew to handle. They all left and the ship is now yours.

After the session:

Druid: WAIT I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE ABILITY TO CHECK FOR CURSES OR POISON

This is only a small part of all the chaos that we had during our first session :))

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #dungeon master #druid #rogue #bard

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ladytanithia · 7 months

Text

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/11)

From Chapter 2 of Miska's Descent, a perverted story I'm writing for a perverted friend. A couple goes hiking in Colorado, explore a cave, and find themselves sex prisoners in a bandit den in Skyrim.

WARNING: brief implication of rape.

@dirty-bosmer @guarmommy @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

When Miska awoke, the first thing she noticed was that her arms were tied behind her back. They were numb at skin-level, but ached at bone-level. The second thing she noticed was that she desperately needed to pee. With that second observation came the realization

that her vagina was sore and felt a little raw. She didn’t remember much after the big green man’s initial penetration; either she had passed out or her mind had made everything mercifully blurry.

Her bladder twitched, and the pressure became worse. Twisting around, she found that she was alone in a small cavern with storage barrels and crates, a table, and a large wooden chest. She was still naked, but she was lying on what appeared to be a bedroll, an animal skin half-covering her. She was mildly surprised that they’d put her in some semblance of a bed. She wondered where Stephan was, if they’d treated him the same, or if he was…

Her bladder twitched harder, which was rather a relief of sorts, as it distracted her from the horrific thought before it could fully form in her mind.

“Hello!” she called, carefully maneuvering herself onto her knees. She listened for a moment, not hearing anything, then called out again. “He-” The cry caught in her throat as the brownish alien man silently appeared in the doorway. She jumped a bit in surprise and almost lost control of her bladder.

“Need something?” he asked in a quiet, silky voice.

“I need to pee,” she told him with embarrassment. “Do you have some kind of outhouse around here?”

He gave her an odd look, as if she was off her rocker. “There’s a bucket right there in the corner. Did you miss it?”

She looked and saw it, but saw no toilet paper. “Okay… but how am I supposed to clean myself?”

“There’s rags in that basket. I’d advise using the same one until you have to do the – other thing. Then the dirty rags go in the other basket, the one with the lid. They get washed every few days. Maybe if you behave yourself, the chief will let you be the one to go down to the river and wash ‘em.”

Miska struggled to get to her feet without her hands, and the brown man grabbed her elbow and helped her up with surprising gentleness. She felt his eyes all over her body, but he didn’t try to touch her anywhere else. She examined the empty bucket and the basket of rags, finding them to be clean enough. She turned to the brown man, who was still casually watching her with a hint of an amused smile. “Some privacy, please?”

“Says the woman on display,” he mocked with a shake of his head and a wry smile. But he turned his back and moved back to the doorway, looking down the short passage to the main chamber while she reluctantly did her business behind him.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #fanfic #ao3 #tes #tanithia writes #miska #bosmer #orsimer #bandits #prisoner #orotheim

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iviarellereads · 10 months

Text

Nona the Ninth, John 1:20(1)

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(No icon) In which someone murdering one of their best friends is still not the most horrifying part of the chapter.

In the dream they go through long corridors, seeing furniture, stones, bodies, bones, little round pockmarks of bulletholes in the walls, relics of the fighting.(2) Eventually he animates some of the bones to clear the path for them, and continues his story.

They couldn't get into political conferences anymore, but the president puppet he controlled was still invited, so John got in for free by proxy. Nobody even argued about the FTL plan anymore. They only argued about what to do with John's crew. He found it funny when he had to puppet the president into speeches about how he should be brought to justice.

What he did mind was the state of the first-wave evacuee ships. None of the reports about them passed the smell test. They'd thought the worst the trillionaires would do was set up a pay-for-preference system, so the richest would leave first, with others on future waves, but that turned out to be so naive. One day, M- came to him, looking like she'd seen a ghost. She and A-'s little brother and the nun had been going over bank movements and manifests.

She said, there was no queue, no second or third wave. Half the passengers on the manifests weren't real people. There was one ship of internationals, and everyone else would have bought a ticket, or been "useful".(3) The rest of humanity was being left to die.

I had to have her breathe into a bag for a while, because she hated it when I tried to fix her anxiety attacks with necromancy. When she could talk I was just all, Are you sure. She said, John, there they go!! And I said, Not as long as I have breath in my body.

In the dream-present, the skeletons have opened an entryway, leading to another wrecked room he identifies as the kitchen. He finds cans in the cupboards, and modifies one of the skeletons to have a can opener for fingerbones. Together, he and she eat slippery sugary peach halves with their fingers, and she feels a little better.(4)

The last chance they had was to talk to their government, which was a mistake. They spooked someone, who told someone else, who told the FTL project, who accelerated the timeline to days, not weeks. John was going to have to physically stop the ships from launching, but with so many platforms, he wasn't sure he could catch them all.

C- asked if he could do some sort of miracle in good faith. A- suggested rushing the ships and pulling the occupants out to force the cryo plan instead.

John, meanwhile, was trying so hard to crack the problem of the soul. He couldn't distinguish it from the rest of the energy in the body, not even on the day he'd killed all those people. He could tell it was big, and it was what he was looking for, but not how to use it.

So I said to everyone, I can’t stop them myself, not yet. We have to stall them. We know they need Pan-Euro’s orbital gate access, so let’s make sure they can’t get it. Let’s make sure nobody wants to give them orbital gate access. He said, And all of us looked at the floorboards.

None of them really wanted to use the nuke, but it was good blackmail against the people who had given it to them. So, they went to their clients, and said, Pan-Euro can't give the trillionaires access, they're cutting and running and leaving everyone else to drown. The clients said, fine, but give us back the nuke first so you don't do something crazy.

It took so long, the FTL had started counting down to launch. When a couple of nations asked what the rush was, the project said they were doing a mock run to make sure it's all in order, since prep went so well. John wondered how anyone bought it, and who got paid how much of the money that the trillionaires obviously thought wasn't worth anything anymore, tied to the homeworld as it was.

He said, So here’s us, planning to meet these agents in neutral territory, across the ditch,(5) over in the huddle where the Territory refugees were. They wanted us to pass the nuke back. We all voted to trust them, but A— and G— and M— and I came up with a just-in-case plan. Forty-eight hours became twenty-four so quickly. G— fixed up the case and carried it over alone, with caveats. Nobody liked that. They were all, Shit, John, send someone dead, send a puppet. But I wanted G—.(6) P— volunteered to go with him, but G— said he wouldn’t arm it if P— was in range. P— went off at him, but it was one of those times where he held his ground against her. I remember. She called him a stupid kid.

John had an odd gut feeling before G- got on the plane, so he took him downstairs, and took his arm off, totally painlessly, and regrew him a new one with magic. G- didn't even question it.

He added contemplatively, Should still be around here. The arm, I mean. I stuffed it in the morgue so nobody would find it. I’ve got plans for that arm.(7)

While they waited, the nun kept pushing him about the soul, as if trying to get him to "instantiate the Trinity"(8) and save everyone. Suddenly, C- admitted she was dating N-, and everyone said they'd known for a year, and they had a nun, why not get married here, at the end of all things. N- said that wouldn't be legal, C- said what does it matter. In the dream, he points at the corner where they got married. He made flowers grow for them, but they were weird, and some of the roses had teeth. The brides thought it was hilarious though.(9)

When G- landed and got to the meetup, John informed the crew that G- was a deadman's switch. Everyone lost their minds at him.

I said to them, You think they weren’t just going to shoot him first thing? You think there aren’t six snipers with beads on G—right now? But they weren’t only aggro about G—, they were aggro that a nuke might go off and kill a couple million people. I was like, Guys, it’s fine, they’re Australian. He said, Wow. Talk about jokes with no hope of landing.

The clients, on the other hand, stayed cool and said they wouldn't talk to John until the nuke was disarmed. They weren't even at the meetup, either, they said, so who would he really be hurting? He'd thought of that, of course.

I said, Yes. On that note, do you remember the dead guy you’ve mocked up to look alive, the one who still has executive power over your own nuclear codes, who you gave me total access to?

John had got him into position, with the codes, and made sure nobody around the puppet could stop him. He told the clients they had thirty minutes to stop Pan-Euro letting their gates open for the ships. The clients think he's bluffing, but he says he'd do anything, wouldn't he? He quotes another cow fact.(10)

John's own people were angry with him, too, on the whole. C-, N-, and P- were all having a go at him, A-'s brother and the nun were trying to mediate. Only A- and M- were really on his side, and it was more "we can still save this, walk it back" than really backing him up.

N- said this was going to end with killing millions of people for nothing, this isn't the saving the world that the crew signed on for. He said this is how they would save the world. She said he cares more about punishing people than being a saviour, and be can be "appallingly vindictive".(11)

Worse, they had cultists inside and outside the cow wall, and some of them flipped sides and surrounded them with guns. This is how all the barricades, all the bodies, all the bulletholes were formed. A- thought they'd sold out, but John thought it was more about internal doubt. He wondered if he'd lost some of his friends, too.

The confrontation went down, inside and outside the cow wall. He was still in touch with G- the whole time, and he was holding up pretty well. But, John had a lot to focus on, with him, and the fighting, and the dead politician.

He lost his nerve, and locked himself in a room with Ulysses and Titania because they wouldn't argue with him.

In the dream-present, he leads her out of the kitchen, down to another place, where a body in brown clothes looks awful, and he looks anywhere but at it, but he continues the story here anyway.

M- and her nun yelled at him through the door about not pushing buttons, until M- gave up and went away. The last hour was almost up.

It was only a matter of time before someone I loved caught a bullet that I couldn’t bring them back from.(12) I needed to do something. I couldn’t do anything.

Eventually, it was the nun who turned things around. She asked how he was doing with the soul, he said poorly. After a five minute pause, the nun said she thought she could help, but he had to let her in. He did, and she'd brought P-'s gun.

Standing in the hall, in the dream-present, she recognizes the body. He tells her that's not what she looked like.

At first, he thought the nun was there to kill him, but she said that in trying times it's common to push yourself away from God, but she knows John could do this, if he concentrated. Then she prayed, and she shot herself. He saw the soul hanging there for a second, and with the thanergy conversion, he could see it, could finally conceive of what he was missing. If he could control it, he could remove the bullet from her brain and glue the soul back in.

He said, But I held her soul in my hands and I knew why it had been so hard, because I was tuned in. I was looking at the code. I knew why I hadn’t been able to see anything. He said, When I touched her soul, I touched you. He said, You were the noise that was everywhere. It was like trying to talk to someone down a phone line with someone screaming through a megaphone in the same room. You drowned everything out. You were so huge and so complicated, and you were screaming. You wouldn’t stop screaming. You were so scared. You were so goddamn mad.(13) She said, “I was?” He said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

He realized he wasn't holding two nukes, he was holding three, and compared to her, "the other two were birthday candles."

He left the nun in the bedroom, dead. He didn't even take Ulysses and Titania. While he'd been locked in, some of the faithful had also turned, when the others accused him of "plotting nuclear war or something else wildly unfair." In the kitchen, everyone was just taking turns shooting each other, and they didn't even notice him come back.

Some of the memory gets fuzzy there, barricading with A- and M-, and them being shot in front of him.

He stood there and he said: “Do you remember what I said was coming?” She said, “Yes.” He said, “This is the part where I hurt you. Are you ready?”(14) She said, “Yes.”

He wanted her to stop screaming, he wanted her, "like a caveman wants a wildfire". He reached out and hurt her, but he wasn't strong enough to finish the job. He felt P- die. G- was the last one left alive, until John stopped his heart.

He paused and said, I’m still sorry it was Melbourne, honestly. Love a working tram service.(15)

In the dream-present, he walks back to the kitchen, abruptly.

He knew the nuke hurt her. He ate every death, and he let go the puppet's nuke codes as well, and thousands of missiles and other nukes were launched in response.

He said, First, I became a demigod. I nearly fell out of my body. I put my hand around half the world’s throats. [...] I drank them in, and it wasn’t enough. I needed those ships. I needed to extend my hand. I got it around the throat of the other half. I made them go away too. Then I had control of everything on the surface, but not the ships … birds flying above the fire … kids playing keep-away. He said, I put my hands around your neck. He said, I cupped your soul in my hands. He said, I took you into myself and we became one.(16)

Well, he started to, but there was so much of her. He dropped to his knees, ate dirt until he vomited, until he realized she was too much. This was the hardest part: the human instinct is to take into yourself, and that wouldn't do.

I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me. I made you one on the fly … I wasn’t even thinking … I ripped half my ribs from my body and made you from the dirt, my blood, my vomit, my bone. He said, I wanted to make you the most beautiful body I could think of.

Here, he notes that he was stressed out and absolutely insane at this point. He was barely himself at all, but he recalled that his Nana had some of his mother's toys at her house, and his favourite of them…

He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “My favourite was her old Hollywood Hair Barbie,”(17) he murmured

He made for her a body, the best he was equipped to form out of his own flesh. He remade them both, putting part of himself in her and part of her in himself. Together, he became like unto God.

But it wasn't enough to stop the ships.

He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going. Once you take down the sun, you’re cooking with gas, pardon the pun.

He killed the planets, with her help, even Pluto, and every satellite and craft that was still in-system. But in the end, he could only reach one of the ships, and for a moment, he and she held it in their hand, and he felt their terror. Then they were gone, out of his reach, lost forever because he hesitated.

He said, lightly— “That’s it. That’s the story. That’s what I did.” “Oh,” she said. Then he said— “Do you remember what you said to me once I had done it? When we stood here together?” She looked at him and she said, “Yes.” He said— “You said, ‘I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?’”(18) She said— “What else did I say?” He said: “You said, ‘What have you done to me? I am a hideousness.’”(19) She said— “What else did I say?” He said, “Where did you put the people? Where did they go?” She said, “I still love you.”(20) He said, “You said that too.”

=====

(1) John 1:20 reads "And he confessed, and did not deny: and he confessed: I am not the Christ." This is supposedly John himself, admitting that he is only repeating the word of the man he believed to be God. Not all of the verses have directly parallelled their respective parts of Jod's story, but some of them just punch right at the core. The fact that Muir was able to synchronize this with the A1Z26 being meaningful, so closely that so many of the verses match their chapters' contents… this is god-tier, Homestuck reference fully intended. Speaking of letterizing the numbers, this nearly completes our message: THE TOWER IS REACTIVAT-. We just saw another mention of a tower last chapter, from Varun. What does it all mean? (2) I think it's worth thinking, here, about the truth of this presentation. It aligns with some of what we have been told is true, and it aligns with some of what we may assume is likely to be true. Is this really just John's idea of what it would look like if the ocean drained around his first bunker? Is it what it actually would look like, or have looked like some weeks or months afterward? Is any of this real? (3) If that word doesn't send a shiver down your spine… (4) I'm so fascinated at how Harrow(?) reacts throughout these sequences that happen in Nona's dreams. How she feels, tied to John even here. (5) At a guess, given context, I'm assuming this is NZ slang for the waters between their islands and Australia. (6) Why did he want G- specifically? Did he want a martyr for his cause? Did he think his reaction times might be subpar in a puppet? (7) What plans could he have for his best friend's arm?! Honestly, folks, the questions this series has left open… (8) Instantiate is hard to describe, but by understanding the three parts of the body (bone, flesh, spirit?) or perhaps the three forms of energy (thanergy, thalergy, soul?), or some other trio of concepts to do with the necromancy, the nun seems to have thought John could become as Jesus, become as God, with ultimate power. Christianity trains you into threes with its Trinity, you see. (9) Sometimes your life is so absurd all you can do is laugh and accept that it is what it is. Especially when the roses grow teeth, I guess.

(10) Most of the time, the cow facts have been things others have used against John in this story. How interesting that now, when he needs to prove how badass he is, how absolutely without limit he is, he quotes one back at them. Cows exhibit mourning behaviour, and I killed them, didn't I? (11) Ain't that a fact, mister "ten thousand years seeking revenge for the moment being described in this chapter". Interesting that he admits it here. (12) Ironic that he said this right before someone did. (13) Of course the Earth was mad. Of course they're screaming at us, in their own way, for what we and our ancestors have been doing to them for these last two hundred years or so, or perhaps the last several myriads of years from a certain perspective. Our lack of stewardship, as a species, over the lands we ought to know better about maintaining. It's the fault of those in power, not those on the ground, but nevertheless. (14) Sweet of him to make sure she still consents to hear the story. (15) John, you absolute goddamn asshole (fond). (16) Lyctorhood is a pale imitation of the first conversion at the Resurrection. (17) If you've ever seen Locked Tomb fans screaming at the Barbie Movie hype or Barbies in general, or a long-limbed blonde with a sword and chains, this here is why. (18) He was chosen, among all the humans on the Earth, he was chosen particularly. Why would she choose him? Just a normal guy? (19) Imagine being a whole damn planet and being stuffed into a Barbie-shaped flesh suit. How horrified must she have felt? (20) But still, her love is unconditional. She loved every one of them, and she loved him, and she loves him still though perhaps... just perhaps... she's still not entirely sure what that word means. And Nona still loves us all, because Alecto once loved us all.

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #emperor john gaius #harrowhark nonagesimus

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