#ANYWAYS IM IRATE AND ANNOYED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marmot567 · 29 days

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bitter orange — okkotsu yūta [1/3]

pairings. okkotsu yūta + f! reader/original character (main); past!orimito rika + f!reader; past!okkotsu yūta + orimito rika warnings/themes. mentions of death, jealousy, hints of obsession and possession. just a lil dark romance practice (which is barely any dark romance tbh who am i kidding) sprinkled with food motifs but i dont know what im doing im just here for the vibes :P mostly sfw with nsfw themes but nothing sexual bc im too scared to go down that dark path (also no use of y/n bc i started writing with an original name and it unfortunately stuck lawl... can be treated as either or it doesnt matter tbh i cant write anything outside of 2nd person anwyay) word count. 2.8k words nothing too crazy xd playlist. knuckle velvet, ethel cain; velvet ring, big thief; pure, cigarettes after sex; only in the dreams, the marias; be my mistake, the 1975; mary, alex g next

it’s been a long time since i have seen my beloved. the moss has grown on that abetachibana tree

PART ONE: ichigo daifuku

Gojō Satoru tells you that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

He had said it in passing after your first solo mission, right as you were entering the car back to Jujutsu Tech before talking your ear off with his lame jokes. The mission had consisted of exorcizing a curse that had persistently haunted an abandoned apartment complex in Omotesandō, assigned to you by the higher-ups in accordance with your newly promoted rank as a Grade 2 sorcerer, having decided that a Grade 1 was doable enough for someone of your caliber. The curse itself wasn’t anything special, though, only repeating gargled confessions of its love to some ‘Chiyo-chan’—whoever she was—the whole time you were dodging its attacks, which was incredibly annoying. You liked your battles in silence, quick and succinct, but curses make that difficult to achieve.

Gojō muses it could have been a past lover, this Chiyo-chan—its love for her having cursed itself. You didn’t really care. If you keep up the good work, complete your required missions and get another recommendation, you could be ranked a Semi-Grade 1 by your second year, then a Grade 1 by your third and nothing else after that because unless you were someone like Gojō Satoru, then you are capped forever at Grade 1.

“So anyway—snacks you like?” said sorcerer asks, finally done with his previous tale. Something about an old coworker. “Mochi, senbei, or taiyaki? Personally, I'm a mochi ice cream type of guy!”

You look at him.

“Why are you here again?”

“... Is your memory that small, Ume? I was proctoring you,” he tuts, mouth turned downwards. “Congrats on the promotion, by the way.”

You shrug. “Ichigo daifuku is good, I guess.”

He smiles, wryly.

“You’re joking, right?”

The building facing your childhood home had been home to Orimito Rika, an unsuspecting property with a decent front yard and the occasional street cat or two often shooed away by her irate grandmother. “Mean granny,” you’d often call her, the insult drowned out by your hushed giggles as you played with your dolls. Rika wouldn’t say anything about it, wouldn’t dare verbally agree with you, but she would always nod her head down, the corners of her lips turned up too high.

You didn’t particularly hate the old woman, but there was a certain kind of satisfaction to saying it behind her back after all the times you’ve caught her looking at her granddaughter in unbridled scorn, your own little form of revenge. You could never understand how her only remaining family could look at her like that, not when Rika was so beautiful and kind; like the cherry blossoms during spring, falling gently along with the wind. Sure, she could be a little cunning at times, and none of the other kids at school liked her because “something’s odd about her, can’t you just hang out with us instead?”—but that’s what makes her interesting, right?

Rika isn’t weird, she’s pretty, and you’re the bee drawn to her. She’s only older than you by a year, ten instead of nine, but she always played with you, taught you how to make flower crowns at the park, and when you walked home from school she’d always hold your hand. Her smile is blindingly bright, the sound of her voice a song you couldn’t stop listening to. Selfishly, you wish it would always be the two of you together; playing with your dolls, walking home with your hands intertwined.

But when she came back from the hospital, so did Okkotsu Yūta.

You could never see what she saw in him; he was short and just a little bit pathetic, always trailing after her like a lost puppy at first. You could push him off the swing and he'd move on with a sniffle, the kind to give up the plastic shovel even though he desperately needed it to finish his sand castle because he didn’t want to fight a girl. He smiled shyly and hid his hands behind his back, looking at you like he was looking for your approval. Of course, you never gave him the time of day, because it felt like he had stolen Rika—your Rika. It was supposed to be just you and her, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now there was Okkotsu Yūta, who held Rika’s other hand after school, who took away her attention from you so easily.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” she asks often, a light blush dusting her face.

“I guess,” is your reply.

“Ne,” she calls, presenting to you a small, black box. You look at it in apprehension, wincing when she eventually opens it. “What do you think of this ring? It was my mom’s. I’m gonna give this to Yūta-kun, do you think he’ll like it?”

The ring was immensely simple, a silver-colored band with a small diamond in front, glinting under the light. Nevermind the fact that it was too big for a child’s fingers to fit in, Rika presented it to you as if it held all the answers to the world. Although her parents were dead, and she had definitely stolen it from her grandmother’s dresser, the ring spoke full of promise. When she takes it out of the box and lets you inspect it, it feels heavy.

“... You really like him, don’t you, Rika-chan?” you ask, quietly.

Rika looks at the stupid piece of jewelry, painfully smitten.

“Mhm,” she affirms. “I really like Yūta-kun. I want to be with him forever! Of course, I like you too, Ume-chan. You and Yūta-kun are my favorite people in the world!”

You close the box, handing it back to her. When Rika looks at you expectantly, you realize then that you could never bring yourself to take that happiness away from her.

The koinobori flies.

“It’s so pretty!” Rika exclaims, eyes wide and staring up at the sky where the huge, windsock carp moves around. It’s bathed in all sorts of colors—from red to blue to white to green—dancing along the azure expanse in commemoration of Children’s Day. The weather is just right, not too hot nor too cold, and the wind caresses your skin gently, the sun not too harsh. It makes the color of Rika’s hair shine in all the right ways, adds more sparkle in her already bright eyes. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, a nice change from her usual blue one. The cream-colored hat you let her borrow covers her face with the shade, but her smile remains bright and blinding. She looks pretty.

She gives you all of her ichigo daifuku, and shares Yūta’s snacks. She doesn’t even like chimaki.

“Are you sure, Rika-chan?” you ask, looking at the two sweets in your hands.

She beams. “You like them, don’t you?”

You keep them with you until the end of the event.

The day passes by incredibly fast, your little trio having exhausted yourselves from running around the park alongside the other children. Yūta chases Rika around the park, and you watch them squeal and laugh at each other and hold hands. You watch them take a nap under the shade, their pinkies intertwined, and you watch as the ugly color of green blinds your eyesight. You leave them be.

Sometimes, you wish you’re the colorful koinobori flying in the sky. You’d let Rika hold on to you, let her fly and hear her amused laugh as the wind tickles her skin. Sometimes, you wish Yūta slapped the ring away from her hands when she handed it to him. Wish he stomped it on the ground and at the same time stomped on her heart. Wish he didn’t take it with a huge smile and agree that he’d marry her when they get older; he’s not the one who’d wait long lines just to get her the best ichigo daifuku, not the one who’d jump at the other kids when they so much as think of insulting her, and he won’t be the one who’d choose to stay with her when she’s all gray and old cause he’s a boy, and boys would never do that.

Sometimes, you wish he never liked her at all—because he never deserved her in the first place.

Okkotsu Yūta could never love Orimito Rika like you.

He sits beside you at lunch.

Rika’s been bedridden for the whole week, which subsequently ruins your week. Yūta doesn’t seem to mind her absence all that much since he doesn’t see her a lot during classes anyway, but they’re supposed to be engaged. He should always be thinking of her, should be acting as miserable as you even at the unripe age of nine. He looks too okay with her absence when he shouldn’t be.

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the small bag of snacks he had placed on the cover of your bento.

“Hm?” he looks up. “Oh, it’s norimaki senbei.”

“... And?” you prod.

He tilts his head. “You don’t want it?”

“... I don’t want it.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“But you like them, don’t you?” he asks though he’s acting like he already knows, like you’ll take it regardless of what you say. It’s annoying.

You look at the seaweed-wrapped rice crackers—the stupid norimaki senbei—in mild contempt. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Yūta’s smile is small, knowing. “Because you don’t like sweets.”

You frown.

She’s a sweet girl.

You think of Orimoto Rika like that because it’s true—she smiles sweetly, she speaks sweetly, and she likes sweet things. She tells you that her favorite snack is ichigo daifuku, the very same confection you always begged your parents to buy for you just so you could share them with her. It pays off all the time because then she’d look as sweet as the daifuku itself, her cheeks as red as the fruit within it. She also likes hanami dango, but she doesn’t like the green part because she doesn’t really like the subtle taste of yomogi, so you eat the rest for her because she doesn’t want to waste it. She likes cold tea instead of hot, sweet instead of savory, like yuzu iced tea or bubbly ramune in comparison to the nutty taste of hōjicha. When you go to the store, she always gets the kompeitō with some random anime character on the packaging because those were the “cutest kind of kompeitō,” and Rika likes cute things.

She also likes the color pink, but when you ask her what her favorite color is she’d say it’s blue. It’s blue not because she wears that blue dress all the time, but blue because it’s the color of Okkotsu Yūta’s eyes, bright and round and always looking at her. Rika likes it that way—she likes how Okkotsu Yūta is always looking at her with his blue eyes, unwavering and full of adoration for her and her only.

You think Orimito Rika is a sweet girl, but sometimes she’s more than that. Sometimes, when the other kids get brave enough to drag you away from her, tell you to stop hanging out with her, they say it’s because Rika doesn’t like anyone else but Okkotsu Yūta.

Sometimes, when they tell you that, you wonder if Rika liked you at all, way before Okkotsu Yūta came into the picture.

But most of the time, you don’t really care. Even if Rika didn’t like you, you’d still like her. Even if she’d only have her eyes set on Okkotsu Yūta with his stupid blue eyes and his stupid norimaki senbei and stupid chimaki that he shared with her on the fifth of May, you’d still like her because she’s Rika—beautiful, kind, and wonderful Rika.

She has things she doesn’t like, too, such as other people but never Yūta-kun or Ume-chan! She likes it when people compliment her and praise her looks and give her free stuff like ramune or ichigo daifuku or Sailor Moon-themed kompeitō from the store, but sometimes she tells you that she dislikes this certain group of girls from Yūta’s class, dislikes the boy assigned as your seatmate, her homeroom teacher, the “weird” guy who works at the konbini a street over, and dislikes it even more when her grandmother looks at her and tells her she killed her own father without even saying anything at all.

You know all those things because you know Orimito Rika. You like her even if she holds intense dislike for the people outside her circle, people who tick her off just a little for you to see her smile crack at the edges and go stiff, the little twitch of her brown eyes, and most importantly, you still like her when all she wants in the world is the attention of the boy who wears her deceased mother’s ring.

You’ll always want sweet girls like her.

“Where’s Rika-chan?”

“Her grandma won’t let her go out today,” Yūta says, sitting next to you on the bench. “So it’s just you and me.”

He says it dejectedly, but it’s not enough for you. If he was really sad, then he’d be as sad as you are, so you start packing your belongings. “I’m leaving, then.”

He startles, standing up. “Huh? W–wait! Don’t leave just yet!”

“But Rika-chan’s not here,” you frown. “There’s no point in hanging out today.”

He falters, looking down at the ground.

“Even if she isn’t here, we can still play together…” he offers, looking up at you timidly. “We’re friends, too, aren’t we?”

The green-eyed monster stares at the silver chain wrapped around his neck, the ring acting as its pendant tucked underneath his shirt—like an unattainable treasure trapped inside a chest with the key thrown away somewhere you cannot find it. We’re not friends, the monster says with a snarl, stay away from me.

If there is one thing you know, then it’s that you have never wanted to be friends with Okkotsu Yūta, not after he took everything from you. He can butter you up by sticking to you during class and sitting next to you at lunch and even offering you some of his not-ichigo daifuku, not-yuzu iced tea, and not-colorful anime-themed kompeitō but you will and have never liked him for the green-eyed monster will always sit on your shoulder so long as he wears that ring on his person, a physical manifestation of his promise with Rika. Your Rika, even if that’s not really the case.

You will never like Okkotsu Yūta, because—because he—

“... What’re we even gonna do?” you ask, slowly.

He immediately brightens up.

“… Wanna get ice cream?” he offers. “There’s a new flavor I wanna try!”

His suggestion does not entice you at all, but when he stands there with an outstretched hand waiting for you to take it, like it’ll matter if you reject him, you find yourself at a crossroads. But you make your decision soon enough. Like it’ll matter, like the green-eyed monster isn’t there, staring.

“Okay,” you say, moving past him to start walking. He blinks incredulously at the blatant rejection before gathering himself and following after you, a prep to his step regardless of your actions.

You try to ignore the warmth of his body next to yours.

He’s too close.

“Yūta-kun’s birthday is in a few days,” Rika announces, lying on your spare futon. “Did you get him anything?”

You didn’t. “... Yeah.”

“Really? What is it?” she cranes her neck to face you. “What’d you get him?”

She doesn’t want your gift being better than hers, it checks out. “Um… just a toy. A garbage truck.”

“Oh, okay,” she turns back to face the ceiling. “I made him a scrapbook with photos of us. I worked really hard on it… do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll like anything you give him.”

She’s already given him a ring—what else could compare to that?

Rika smiles. “I guess… you’re right.”

Soon enough, she goes to sleep, breathing softly beside you as your fan fills the silence of the night. You continue staring at the ceiling, making out the little dents despite the lack of light. You squeeze the hand that holds your under the cover, before closing your eyes.

You hear her softly breathe on a steady beat alongside the fan whirring in the corner, and you close your eyes, squeezing her hand tighter underneath the covers of your too-close futon.

You’ll have to ask your parents for some money tomorrow.

“Rika-chan isn’t here again,” Yūta says dejectedly. “Her granny’s too strict.”

“She hates her,” you say quietly.

Yūta looks at you, confused. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Your birthday’s coming up soon, what are you doing that day?”

“Uwah—you remember?”

“Rika-chan told me.”

“Oh, well,” he smiles sheepishly, “we have school that day, but after that I’ll be celebrating at my house. I’m thinking of just inviting Rika-chan and you over… um, so, will you come?”

“I’ll go if Rika-chan is going.”

He blinks, before a smile blooms on his face. “Okay! I’ll see you, then.”

It happens when you aren't there.

It never should have happened at all.

Orimito Rika is pronounced dead at the age of eleven, her body unrecognizable under the heavy weight of a blue truck.

#yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk #yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk okkotsu #jjk x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk imagines

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horce-divorce · 3 months

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I have hard boundaries for myself about how I use social media that I've followed for the last few years. Ever since I briefly left tumblr and tried twitter, I took so much psychic damage from that experience that I had to make new rules about how I use the internet. Setting app timers did nothing for me, so I compromised: im allowed to use social media daily to my heart's content (which I found isnt actually all that much)- as long as isn't the FIRST thing I open when I wake up.

For YEARS it was my habit to crack open my eyes and click into FB or Twitter or Insta before I even got out of bed. It was like this compulsive Need to Know What's Going On Out There. what did I miss while I was asleep? Never much, but always some new drama, some new political blunder, some new Person of the Day everyone was dunking on. I hated it, but I COULDN'T stop. I physically couldn't resist.

So lately I've tried to replace that habit with, just, something else. Anytime I feel the urge to click into social media, I try using another app instead. Usually it's a game (dvc has been great for me bc of the social feature, but just as often I'll open up my coloring book, wordscapes, or any other game that keeps me busy for 2 seconds and fulfills the "click button get dopamine" urge). Especially first thing in the morning. My brain needs a solid 2-3 hours of consciousness before I can handle social media.

A cool life hack I learned recently is that it's easier to get up in the morning if you do something you actually LIKE to do first thing in the day. it's done wonders for my mental health. I went from "ugh, morning again? It was literally morning yesterday," to feeling like Spongebob hopping out of bed going "IM READY!" every day. Clicking into social media was NOT something I was doing because I liked it. Gaming is something I do because I love it. I love checking on my dragons, it makes me feel HAPPY to have looked at them, i make new friends playing games bc we already have something in common (ive rarely made new friends on social media. I used to make friends ALL THE TIME playing games like neopets, roleplaying and posting on forums, and building little websites and things- ive even made a bunch of friends on tumblr. Never on FB, though). It's a world of difference getting up and checking on my animal crossing villagers, who fill me with glee and delight, vs looking at FB first thing in the morning and feeling bitter about all the people I know who aren't paying attention to me.

So anyway, this has worked SHOCKINGLY well for me? Usually just clicking another app and looking at it for a minute fulfills the urge to have clicked the FB button, or whatever, which then goes away- and I have sated my craving without pissing myself off, and without creating additional urges by going on social media. I have been using social media SO MUCH LESS since I started doing this and I've been feeling amazing for it. And it's not always games. I also use more practical apps like Bearable and Habitica. Sometimes I'll even click thru my photos or notes instead of clicking the social app.

This morning, I broke my habit. For the first time in weeks or maybe even months, I woke up and clicked FB and Insta first thing. I shared a post or two lately and I was hoping my friends had seen it, but I knew they hadn't even before I looked. 2 likes, no comments. I clicked into Instagram and saw a Reel from Kevin James Thornton, a comedian and whole media personality who has over 600k follows on Instagram alone, pleading with his existing fans to choose to check up on him and to sign up for his email list instead, because the algorithm only wants to hook new followers. The 600k existing ones aren't good enough. Gotta have that exponential growth or else our shareholders will be very cross with us!

I realized this morning what it is about FB that makes me so irate, the thing that creates additional urges to post my whole ass and pick fights and be as annoying as possible: because I hate feeling like I'm being ignored. And this is a feeling social media manufactures for you CONSTANTLY. You log on and ONLY see posts that are already popular, posts that are already "getting engagement." Everyone else is clearly online commenting and interacting with all this other stuff except for yours. Why aren't you good enough? Don't they like YOUR posts? Why are they ignoring you? What did you do wrong?

You can KNOW wholeheartedly that Facebook gives incentives to certain posts/posters and that it does the opposite with certain topics, especially socio-political ones. You can know that it's the algorithm refusing to show your posts, and not your friends ignoring you. But still, you have a page, people know how to find you- can't they come to your page to check? Did they forget you exist? Do they just not care? You can SEE they're online, and they can see YOU'RE online, so what's not clicking???

In me, at least, this WILDLY increases the urge to post something dramatic, incendiary, or outrageous just to get a response. OH, you guys don't like me when im being polite and quiet? You'll really hate me when I decide to be annoying on purpose!

Which then increases engagement, providing you with positive reinforcement for posting "controvertial" things, starting fights, posts that provoke people into responding... If you wont choose to interact with my posts? Fine. I'll make the urge fucking irresistible. A positive reinforcement for fighting and doing other unpleasant things we don't like, and supposedly don't want to use social media for, and yet.

It's not merely that posting misinformation and getting in fights is profitable to these platforms. Why is it profitable? Because the more you engage with (read: fight) random strangers, the more other, new people are also exposed to your inflammatory conversations, which in turn sparks a response in them, and so and so forth.

If we all just gained 600k followers and then stopped, and we all saw every update they made, and we all just hung out in our own corners and minded our own business? Sure, that would be lucrative for the creators with all those followers, but Instagram wouldn't be experiencing exponential growth- they need MORE new users, MORE old users spending MORE time on the app, following MORE people, leaving MORE comments, SEEING MORE ADS, because they need more and more and more for their shareholders. Influences are the product just as much as regular users.

I'm thinking about that post that talks about how, as income inequality gets worse and the middle class shrinks, advertising gets more and more aggressive, despite people's ability to spend shrinking with each new day. This feels similar somehow? Like, people are starting to get wise to the fact that social media makes us feel like crap, and that the excuse of "I have to use it to stay connected to everyone else" falls flat when you're not actually connecting with those people. Even as the internet continues to shrink, more and more people are getting fed up with social media and using it less, or leaving outright, because it's becoming less and less usable, more ad-ridden than ever. And yet it reinforces the need for those platforms to get more aggressive, to bring in more users to replace the ones they're losing. It's a never ending cycle of "we have to cause you psychic damage! in the interest of roping in more people to damage psychically :)" and we all know we're doing it, and we all hate them for it, and yet we can't stop.

Once again I have to mention that absolutely fucking BIZARRE interaction my bf had the other day. Someone he knew "liked" a comment that was spreading misinformation and a very anti-treatment sentiment about DBT. He messaged this friend privately to ask if they really thought that. They told him, "I dont know what DBT is. I just click 'like' on any comment someone I think is cool makes." When my bf pressed them further, along the lines of, "why would you do that?" They said "for engagement." This was not an influencer, this is not a brand or a page or a business account they were using. It was a personal account w a few hundred friends. I just CANNOT get over this. Clicking buttons just because they're there, "for engagement" lmao. Engagement for whom, my good bitch? They might be interacting with your posts, but this is not "your" platform. The engagement isn't for you, sweaty. But ok.

I dont have a conclusion or any suggestions here. Just an observation. What a fucking mess. Social media demanded that we all make ourselves available 24/7, trained us to React instead of to care, convinced us all that we are each some kind of personal brand that requires social marketing to maintain, got us to pick fights with each other constantly as a result, made the internet a miserable place to be, and we have thanked them for the privilege.

Anyway. No more letting the algorithm tell you what to care about today. Contact me thru a series of intricate rituals or not at all. If it's really that important you can send me a Neomail 👍

#me #internet #join me on neocities too btw. im horce-divorce.neocities.org #im probably also gonna make a new personal tumblr #this ones getting too many follows and i dont want my mom to find it

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moskaisley · 3 years

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imagine growing up your entire life never seeing yourself in the shows and movies you watched or the books you read. and every time you tried to put yourself there, it was never really you. it was a ‘better’ version of you. pale. blonde. skinny. blue eyes. had a name that didn’t sound weird. pronounced things in perfect english. because in your mind, you made the connection that the characters you love and admire so much could never love your skin or your hair, or your eyes, or your body, your culture or your own fucking name. they liked the pretty white people on tv, on book covers in movies, in magazines, billboards, commercials, and on and on and on. never you. imagine hating those parts of yourself so fucking much that it spilled out of your daydreams and into your real life and suddenly, you don’t want to listen to your family when they try to teach you about where they came from. you stop listening, stop paying attention. you don’t want to eat their food, you want to eat what normal people eat. you get mad when your family doesn’t speak english in public, talk the way normal people talk. you want to be treated like a normal person. like a white person. and over time, you can say with some sick sort of pride that

“oh, i’m not like the others. i’m normal.”

then imagine growing up. learning and changing and realizing that you actually love your skin and your hair and your eyes and your body and your culture. and you feel your stomach sink with guilt when you think about your past because you spent so much time in misery trying to tamp those parts of you down. to become normal. you ask yourself, ’how could I do that to myself? how could I hurt myself so badly?’ And when you find things that you love and put yourself in them, you try your hardest to see you. cultivate a space of your own, make it feel like home. and it’s beautiful because it’s you and resonates with you and maybe, just maybe other people felt the way I felt, and maybe this can be home for them too. only to turn around and have someone yell that you’re still not normal. it’s still not for you.

#🤪🤪raise ur hand if u wanted to be white growing up because that's literally all you saw 24/7 🤪#idk idk im just mad that i spent so much time believing that bullshit #and i have a lot of shame for how i neglected my own heritage #even just how i looked i remember almost crying in high school because i tanned and i thought i was too dark #kept telling myself 'id be prettier if i was white'#now i love my culture and my skin and my identity and i want to share these pieces of me with others.#and seeing other bipoc creators here create spaces and fully embrace these pieces of themselves is so inspiring y'all are amazing #so seeing you all get hate for it is Irritating #seeing creators leave because they don't feel included is so fucking sad #but i don't blame them! the way fandom treats bipoc is fucking !! garbage !!#because they refuse to make space for us and have the gall to criticize when we make things for ourselves #ANYWAYS IM IRATE AND ANNOYED #DO BETTER

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milkweedman · 2 years

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so... it absolutely does stain. it actually even stained the bobbin--which also has cotolin--when i wrapped a wet singles around it for storage. the rolag (top left) is what the cotolin originally looked like (pearl white but a solid color unlike the rolag). the ball of cotton sliver (top right) is even more of a stark contrast. honestly i think just putting a hat made of that linen on after taking a shower and going to bed would be enough to turn the pillowcase pink.

so. that is out. i ended up discarding the thick and thin cotton yarn idea as well after looking at a sample of it knit up last night... the texture is just Weird. i love a good thick and thin yarn, but when it's done badly it doesn't look good. so ill just keep using that for grocery bags, since those can look terrible as long as they hold groceries.

i ended up buying some dk weight cotolin from knit picks and paying for the fastest shipping i could afford, and i think I'm just gonna knit it with that. which leaves me around ten days to knit it, as i thought it would. which doesn't sound like a long time, but i did knit an 8 foot long tube scarf with colorwork from sock yarn in under two weeks, so. a dk weight stocking hat in 10 days is easy mode, lol

#is cotolin just a brand name or is that what we call a cotton linen blend ? no idea but its faster to type cotolin so that's what I call it #my wrists weren't as bad back then but honestly as long as im not in a flare up compression sleeves and weed #is enough to ignore the pain and keep working in most circumstances tbh #*gloves not sleeves #anyway yeah. somewhat irate about this shitty fiber. annoyed that i wasted money and time on it #gonna see if i can make the sample into a new wallet while i wait for the yarn to arrive #i figure that if the wallet gets wet i have bigger problems than cash being stained pink so.#and my old wallet (which i dumpster dived for when i was like. 10)#has seriously given up the ghost. i sewed it back together in highschool but that has since failed #and i realized that the pocket i usually put my id in has a massive id card sized hole #so. we shall see how that works out #spinning #handspun yarn #flax spinning

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silversatoru · 3 years

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hi!! me again, saw that you want some bnha requests and hoo boy do i fuckin got one for ya

im a hardcore member of the fuck bakugo 🖕🏼 squad but i also wanna fuck bakugo ya know?

therefore i would like to request a smut fic where bakugo is so painfully angry at the fact that he has a crush on the reader that he ends up getting caught stealing their panties and chaos ensues 😌

anyway love you bye ❤️

compulsion

touch-starved bakugou katsuki x f!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), mild obsession, dom?reader, characters aged up

w/c: 1.9k

katsuki bakugo hates a lot things.

he hates hero training, he hates his annoying classmates, and he hates the fact that it rained today. he hates living in the UA dorms and he fucking hates the overly salted bowl of ramen he was forcing down his throat right now.

bakugo katsuki hates almost everything, but he doesn’t hate you — and he hates that doesn’t.

having a distaste for the world made things easier, because if he always assumed the worse than he’d never be disappointed. he’d gotten pretty far with that logic — that was up until you waltzed into his life and fucked it all up, sending his logic hurling out the window.

when he looked at you he didn’t feel the same hate that he felt for the world around him — in fact when he looked at you he felt a disgusting urge of optimism. he liked the way your hair fell around your shoulders, the way your lips curled when you smiled, and the way your skirt rode up your thighs. he didn’t hate anything about you and that’s what he hated most.

see ya later, katsuki! you’d called to him after hero training today, your round glossy lips pronouncing his name in a way that made his heart flicker and his blood boil over. why did everything about you have to be so fucking perfect? he couldn’t find a single flaw on your annoyingly pristine body no matter how hard he searched for one.

your voice consumed his mind — everything you said to him today replaying on repeat at the center stage of his brain:

come eat lunch with us, katsuki!

hey katsuki, did you finish the math homework? number seven makes like- no fucking sense.

have you seen those chips i like, katsuki? i swear if denki ate them all again i’m gonna kill him

your voice was precious, a terribly sensual melody in his sullen ears. and the way you clung to the ends of your words for just a little too long was repulsively adorable too.

katsuki needed something, anything, to get you off his mind. sitting here and daydreaming about you was making him irate with himself — forcing intrusively irrational thoughts through his thick head. something, anything, he needed to stop thinking about you.

he tossed what was left of his shitty ramen into the trash can and exited the kitchen. the common area was filled with students right now, you included, and it was much too crowded and annoying for his liking. you were sitting with hanta, laughing at some shitty fucking joke he was spouting off.

not that he enjoyed watching that lanky scotch-tape dispenser flirt with you — but it was keeping you busy. your dorm room would be empty right now, wouldn’t it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

katsuki’s not sure how he ended up here, seething with anger and digging fervently through your drawer of panties. surely you wouldn’t mind if he took just one pair, right? you have to understand that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t absolutely need them. he wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t make him so fucking angry — this is your fault, not his.

he lifted the lacy material closer to his face for further inspection, unable to prevent his mind from wandering to how it would look wrapped around your body. fuck, they even smelled good — not that he was smelling them intentionally or anything, don't get the wrong idea. he just so happened to get close enough that the soft aroma of cherry blossom fabric softener wafted into his nostrils.

simmering with anger and foggy with unwanted lust, katsuki pocketed the panties for later and turned back towards the door — the same door that you were now standing in front of with immense confusion in your eyes. fuck.

“uh... hey katsuki, whatcha doin?” you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, cocking your head to the side.

“i- uh- it’s fucking none of your business,” he snarled at you, face flushing as he tried to figure out how long you’ve been standing there and how much you saw.

“you’re in my room dude, it’s totally my business,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “and that pair of panties you took is one of my favorites, maybe you could pocket one of the uglier pairs?”

“god, fucking dumbass, this is your fault! i wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so fucking infuriating,” his face was so angry and flushed you could have sworn there was steam sizzling off his skin.

“me? it’s my fault you’re standing in my room with a pair of my underwear in your pocket and an obvious boner in your pants?”

katsuki grimaced, faltering for just a second as he awkwardly shifted his sweatshirt and pulled it down to cover his swollen erection, “yeah shithead, that’s what i just said. weren’t you fucking listening?”

“this is horribly desperate, katsuki, you could have just asked. i’m more than willing to help you out with this,” you stepped forward and began to shorten the distance between the two of you.

“willing to help me? are you insane? i don’t need your fucking help!” he tried to retaliate, but you were already inches from him, reaching down and dragging a hard palm over the lump in his jeans.

“quit screaming like a lunatic and let me help you, i know this is what you think about,” you pressed harder and gave him an icy stare, the boy using everything in his power not to crumble under your touch.

he’d never been touched like this by anyone, and he was so caught off guard by your sudden movements that he simply stared back at you, frozen in place. no arguments, no insults, no deflective blaming — his brain could barely compute his own name now that your hand was prodding at his bulge.

“that’s what i thought,” you cracked a small smile, “poor katsuki, always pushing everyone away and never getting any action. come sit down”.

katsuki failed to wrap his brain around the current events, wondering how his failed attempt at stealing a pair of panties had led to him sitting on the edge of your bed while you stripped him of his trousers. you were sinking to your knees now, head perfectly level with his cock that was standing flush against his abdomen.

he almost flinched when you reached out and brushed your delicate fingers over the red, swollen head of his dick. his cheeks were flushed with a deep red, and he wanted nothing more than to yell you, to tell you how much of a freak you were. but he didn’t, because as much as he hated to admit it, your touch was the best thing he’d ever felt.

your fingers were wrapped around his shaft now, pumping slow strokes as you warmed him up. he hissed and squirmed under your brand new touch — eyes squeezing shut and hands grabbing fistfuls of your comforter. katsuki had touched himself plenty of times, most of them while thinking of you, but your hand felt so much better than his ever did.

“you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” you pouted up at him, your fingers squeezing a little tighter and pumping a little faster, “poor baby”.

“i- fuck- ah,” he choked out a pitiful cluster of sounds that didn’t actually form any words but still gave you the answer to your question.

you were terribly amused, the typically angry boy was a twitching mess under your touch and you’d barely even started yet. you could only imagine how quickly he’d melt when your lips were around his cock — you were dying to find out.

you leaned forward and began slowly flicking your tongue over the puffy tip, still pumping the shaft with one of your hands. katsuki let out strings of sounds that could only be described as mewls and whimpers, his thighs shaking and his knuckles turning white. poor poor baby, you continued to think, i’m gonna make you feel better than you ever have before.

your head dipped low, the first few inches of his cock sliding across your tongue and into the back of your mouth. the blonde boy whined and bucked his hips, his eyes shooting open at the sudden burst of hot, wet pleasure.

“hng- fuck- fucking sh-shit,” his curses came out as pitiful gasps for air as he stared down at you with wide eyes.

you gradually took more and more of his length into the depths of your throat — his extensive length, by the way. for someone so blessed with such a big, pretty cock, you couldn’t believe he didn’t put it to use more often.

katsuki was cussing you out like it was his job, but each word was accompanied by a gasp or a humiliating whimper. he was so fucking embarrassed, but he felt much too good to care right now. your wet, sticky mouth was enveloping his cock in the most perfect way, jolts of euphoria spiking through his veins and fogging his head.

there was a pressure quickly building in his stomach, a tight wam feeling that signified he was going to come all too soon. but of course you expected this — honestly he’d lasted a few minutes longer than you thought he would.

when his orgasm finally racked through him, his entire body twitched and convulsed, his hips bucking wildly as strings of white liquid sprung from his cock and lined the walls of your tight throat. you milked every drop of cum from him, swallowing it down and then pulling your head back. as much as you wanted to push him and overstimulate him you decided to play nice for his first time.

“so good, katsuki. did you like that?”

his shoulders caved in and his head hung low as he finally came down from his high — the realization of all of the transpiring events finally catching up to him. he mumbled the quietest: yeah, it felt fucking good in response to your question, but refused to meet your eyes.

“we could do this more often, what you think?” you reached up and placed your hand under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“fuck- fine, yeah whatever, but don’t fucking tell anyone about this,” he growled, his angry eyes and twisted eyebrows finally meeting yours.

“of course,” you smiled, standing and tossing him his pants to put back on, “i just came here to grab a sweatshirt, so i better go before anyone comes looking for me. i’ll come find you later though, promise”.

and with that you were walking through the door, wiping your sticky lips on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and heading for the elevators. katsuki sat on the edge of your bed for a few minutes longer, mind blown by the curves of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

katsuki didn’t hate you before, and he really doesn’t hate you now, but he’s coming to terms with it this time. letting his walls down for you doesn’t sound all that bad if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this.

#bnha bakugou #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha imagines #boku no hero smut #my hero academi smut #boku no hero x reader #my hero academia x reader

201 notes · View notes

voiider · 7 years

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hngg

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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834.

How have you been feeling lately? Have you been doing ok? >> Eh. As long as nothing unpredictable happens, I’m mostly fine... but I’ve also had at least two meltdowns in the past week, so “mostly fine” is obviously a cover-up of some sort. I don’t really know what to do about it, so I am kind of just holding my breath through every day, hoping I don’t lose it over something trivial.

Are you currently in quarantine? >> No, the stay-at-home order has been lifted. Still not really going anywhere, though.

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? >> We didn’t this past weekend, which I don’t feel great about, but I ordered a bandana yesterday so I’ll hopefully have it before this coming weekend.

Does your state require people to wear masks in stores? >> Well, they say they require it, but we were definitely not the only people in stores without masks on. So I don’t know what the deal is with that. I think maybe stores are weighing how much it’s worth having to deal with irate customers who can’t stand being turned away for not complying with the mask rule (Michigan is, after all, the state where armed protesters stormed the capitol building to harass the governor for extending the stay-at-home order...). Regardless, now that I will actually have a face covering next time, I’m going to use it.

Do you know anyone who's had the coronavirus? >> No.

What was the last sweet treat you ate? >> I ate part of a lemon coconut cookie.

Was it a nice day out today? >> It’s pretty nice, yeah.

Is the weather nice where you live usually? >> Usually? I wouldn’t say that. Winter lingers around here for a long time, and winter does not usually bring pleasant weather (in my opinion). Also, we get a lot of wacky lake-effect weather.

What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A bandana. It has a Baphomet on it, heh.

Are you expecting a package right now? >> Well, yeah, the bandana. Should be here Thursday or Friday (it’d better be, considering I paid extra for quicker shipping).

Have you ever ordered anything from Wish? If so, what did you buy, and did you feel it was worth it? >> I haven’t, but Sparrow’s ordered stuff from them. I think she likes everything she’s gotten (although she hasn’t gotten everything she’s ordered, which is annoying).

Are you a youtuber? If so, are you consistent with uploads? and how many subscribers do you have? >> I am not, nor would I ever be, a youtuber.

What is one thing you hate about summer? >> Heat waves. I like warmth, but too hot is too hot.

Did you go outside today? >> Not yet.

What is the name of your youtube channel, if you have one? >> ---

What was the name of the last store or restaurant that overcharged you? >> I can’t recall being overcharged anywhere.

Is your room more often messy or clean? >> On the cleaner side than the messier side.

Who is someone you miss? >> ---

What is something you miss? >> ---

Do you feel like your emotions are often haywire? >> I feel like that pretty frequently, yeah. I’m either having no emotions or having a veritable perfect storm of them, and I’d really like to find a fucking balance at some point.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? >> I’ve mostly received misdiagnoses from doctors.

Have you ever been "diagnosed" with a mental illness from an online friend? who is not a doctor? If yes, isn't that frustrating? >> Nah, I’ve not had that experience.

Do you have any friends that you can trust and tell everything to? >> ---

What was the name of your favorite roommate you've had? >> ---

Do you have a favorite book that you've read multiple times? >> Yeah, there are a few books I’ve read multiple times.

What's one book or book series that you've read multiple times? >> I’ve read Dreamcatcher by Stephen King at least twice.

Have you ever had an embarrassing bathroom accident? >> Yeah.

What was the name of the funniest kid you've ever babysat? >> ---

Do you enjoy babysitting? >> Never done it.

Do you have any big regrets? >> No.

Are there things about your past that bother you? >> I mean... I’m post-traumatic, lmao.

What was the last thing you saw or read on social media that made you angry? >> That doesn’t really happen to me.

Do you often post about controversial topics on facebook? >> I don’t post on facebook at all.

Do you think it's a good idea to post about serious topics on social media? or do you think that it's better to discuss serious topics in person? >> I think that a lot of misunderstanding happens on social media that could possibly be avoided or at least worked through with more efficiency in person. I do say possibly, because like, who knows, really. But there are many discussions I wouldn’t bother getting into on social media (especially where other people can see it and jump in with their two cents), that I might be more willing to discuss one-on-one with a person in a controlled environment. Which is why I hate that people don’t use IM/DM functions more often for working through sensitive topics (like “I have a problem with something you said in [x] post and I would like to work it out with you” or whatever), instead of turning it into a public fucking debate.

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? >> Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Have you ever failed a class and had to repeat it? >> No, I got no credit for a class and had to repeat it.

What class in school did you hate the most? >> All of them lmao

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? >> Fuck no.

What's one childhood dream that has stuck with you, and one that has not? >> ---

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? >> FUCK NO.

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? >> I vastly prefer being an adult where I have at least some semblance of agency and control over my own life, instead of being subject to the whims of people who don’t actually care about what I want or need or feel but are mostly thinking about what they want out of me.

At what age were you when you started to feel like you were mature enough to offer others advice? >> I don’t recall having this thought, like, ever. I offer advice when someone’s asked for it and I feel like I have some to offer. I don’t give a fuck what my age is.

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? >> No.

Do you enjoy bonfires? >> Yes.

Have you ever stepped on a sparkler? >> No.

What, do you know of, are you allergic to? >> Nothing.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? >> Yep, front and back.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read, if applicable? >> I prefer the NIV for just regular reading, but ngl, the KJV has some turns of phrase that can be really poetic-sounding in certain verses.

Do you follow trends? or are you a trendsetter? >> Literally neither. I just do what I want.

Has anyone ever described you as a trendsetter? >> No.

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? List three people you've known whom this has happened to. >> I don’t know anyone like that, which is good, because that is definitely red-flag behaviour.

What SAT subjects, if any, did you get a perfect score in? >> ---

What were your best subjects in school? and what was your favorite subject in school? >> ---

Have you ever been abused by a parent or legal guardian? >> Yes.

Do you have a lot of wounds from your past? >> Nope. Not a single one.

Has anyone ever called you a jerk? >> Probably.

Are you a jerk? >> Probably.

What color were your bedroom walls in high school? >> I assume they were the Nothing(tm) colour that is standard in apartment complexes.

Is there a girl or guy you wish you hadn't let slip away? >> No.

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? >> No.

Who has hurt you the most? >> Sigh.

Have you been bullied? >> Yes.

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? and have you auditioned for one? >> I would rather die.

Do you know anyone who's auditioned for American Idol? >> No, but I know someone who auditioned for X Factor, which is largely the same concept.

Is there someone you think should audition that hasn't yet? >> No. I don’t think anyone should audition for those stupid ass shows.

What time of day do you usually feel your best? >> There is no time of day when that’s likely to happen. It depends more on my actual mental state than what time of day it is.

What's one way in which you've changed within the last ten years? >> Oh, you know, stuff.

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? >> To me, it just... passes?

Who do you know who has died of cancer? >> No one.

Has there been cancer in your family? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? >> Yeah. For being suicidal, or for being self-injurious, or because people just plain thought it’d be a fun thing to do to me, I don’t fucking know.

Have you ever been a victim of police misconduct? >> No.

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? >> That... would be such a strange response to being angry at someone. For me, anyway. I don’t know, maybe it makes sense to other people. I stick to Old Reliable -- wanting to beat them to a pulp or something.

Have you ever been a victim of racism? >> I mean, probably.

Have you ever deleted a friend on facebook for making racist comments? >> No. Luckily, that’s never happened to me.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips.

What was the theme of your senior prom? >> Damned if I remember, that was like 15 years ago.

Did you go to prom? >> Yeah.

Have ever been engaged or married? >> Yeah.

Are you an aunt or uncle? >> Technically.

Do you live to glorify God and to do His will? >> No.

Are you happy with the way you are living your life day-to-day right now? >> I mean, there are worse ways to live. At least I get to decide for myself what I do with my day.

Do you feel like your life was better or worse six years ago? >> It was definitely worse. That’s not even something to question.

Have you ever made a huge, catastrophic mistake? >> I don’t think any of my mistakes qualify for such a dramatic adjective.

What's one need of yours that is currently not being met? >> ---

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? >> Not that kind of suffering, no -- I’ve been in that state, where most of my basic needs were not at all being met, and I’m very grateful to not have to live like that anymore. Unfortunately, living like that for extended periods of time tends to have lasting effects, which is [part of] what I’m dealing with right now.

Do you hate social injustice? >> Nah, I love it. It’s just great. It’s the best thing ever--

Are you happy with the current social class you are in? >> I’m in that strange limbo where I, as an individual, am poverty-class, but since I am part of a household where the other person works a relatively okay job for a living, I get the benefits of being working-class. We’re still low-income by modern urban standards, though. Anyway, I’m fine with that for the most part, but that’s also because I’m used to being literally penniless so anything is better than that.

Do you feel like you are being given what you deserve right now? >> What the fuck do I deserve? What does that even mean? No one owes me anything.

Life isn't fair. True or false? >> I mean, true, I guess.

Do you hate that life is so unfair? >> I don’t really think about life that way. It’s people who have the option to be fair or unfair (and who have the option to perceive of things as fair or unfair); life is just... life.

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. >> I don’t know anyone like that.

Who do you go to when you're upset? >> Can Calah.

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? >> I didn’t pray then and I don’t pray now, so... the same.

Do you pray a lot? >> No.

Do you frequently have back pain? >> No.

What's the worst side effect you've experienced for a medication? and what's the worst withdrawal effect you've experienced from a medicine? >> The last time I recall having side effects to medications is when I was being put on various psychiatric drugs as a teenager, but I don’t really remember any of the specifics except... being exhausted all the time (because I remember falling asleep in classes and being reprimanded for it like I’m doing it on fucking purpose).

Have you ever used an epi pen? >> No.

What's a name that you like but probably wouldn't use for one of your kids? >> ---

What's you name, and do you like it? >> Mordred. Of course I do.

Would you prefer to give your kids common names or unique names? >> ---

Do you feel like anybody values you in the way that you deserve? >> There’s that word deserve again. Anyway, yes, I’m sure someone values me well enough. Probably.

Who have you felt the most valued by? >> I guess Sparrow values me, or we wouldn’t be married. That’s how that works, right?

Have you ever been treated like you were inferior? >> Yes.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? >> ---

Do you ever sleep outside? >> I’ve slept outside before, yes.

How many siblings do you have? >> ---

Are you the oldest, youngest, middle, or only child? >> I was raised as the only child in the household. I was the youngest of my father’s children.

How many kids do you want to have? >> Zero, ideally.

Do you want to get married? >> It’s already been done.

Best date you've been on? >> ---

Dream date? >> ---

Ever kissed someone on New Year's? >> Yeah.

Have you ever had an experience so good you felt like you were flying? >> Probably.

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? >> Yep.

What brings you the most joy? >> Uh... hmm. Good question. I’ll get back to you on that. Someday.

What is your passion; what is it that would bring you the most joy and fulfillment in life? >> I don’t think I have any passions.

Have you ever laid your dreams aside because someone else wanted you to? >> Well, fortunately for everyone else, I don’t really have any dreams.

Who supports you in everything you do? >> Sparrow is pretty supportive when I bother to do stuff.

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? >> ---

Do you believe in following your heart, in going after your dreams? >> I think that if someone has a dream, then sure, they should try to see it through. But I also think that sometimes it just ain’t worth it. It’s up to the person to make that determination, though, not me. Personally, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a dream, so it’s not like I can relate or anything.

Do you wish other people would want you to be happy? >> I don’t think people want me to suffer or anything. I think that in general, people aren’t really thinking about me at all.

Do you wish you had someone who loved and supported you? >> I do. I wish I had the capacity to feel loved and supported.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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yellowmagicalgirl · 5 years

Text

I Will Learn to Let You Go (I Won’t Let Go)

Summary: Claire has found a way to give Jim back his humanity, but there’s a catch.

I’m pretty sure that someone else came up with this idea but I can’t find it so if you came up with it tell me and I’ll give you credit!

Warning: there are discussions of death and body horror

AO3

FFN

Jim, look," Claire said, pointing almost feverishly at the potion contained within the mason jar. She didn't look at him.

"What am I looking at?" he asked. His girlfriend had multiple potion-based projects at the moment.

"It'll let you be human again," Claire said. Jim turned her face so he could kiss her in thanks, and then saw the sadness in her eyes, saw the way she was gnawing on her lip.

"What's the catch?" he asked. "I love you, but I'm not taking any potions until I know all the side effects."

"Well, you won't be as strong or fast as you are now, but other than that you'll be fine." She forced a smile but quickly turned away.

"Please tell me that the ingredients of this potion aren't anything like sacrificed babies."

"What? No! Just because I'm im, um, just because I'm using some of Morgana's spellbooks for reference doesn't mean I'm doing stuff like she did!" The look on her face was more annoyed than irate. It was the same look Claire got when she was pretending that the way Morgan used her didn't bother her as much as it actually did.

Jim put his hands up as a placating gesture. "Sorry, sorry, I just feel like you're keeping something from me... oh no. Claire, if this will make it so you give me your humanity in exchange I'm not doing it."

"No, Jim. It'll make you human again and it won't change me at all. There aren't any ethical dilemmas if you take it. All it'll do is make you a regular human with a magical amulet." She turned halfway away from him, hugging herself.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Please, tell me what's wrong." She sighed and pulled out her phone before finding her photos app. She scrolled back several years until she found the a selfie Mary had taken of their Saturday detention group.

"Do I look any older than I did in this photo?" She turned to face him. "Let's ignore the fact that I have white hair."

"No, not really."

"Exactly. I wouldn't say I stopped aging when I made that giant portal but, well," she looked away. "I'm twenty-one. I don't think I'll look like it until at least the end of the century. And you haven't really aged, either. If you take the potion you'll age like humans are supposed to," she sniffled. "And you'll be dead or dying by the time I look like I'm old enough to buy a drink."

Jim pushed the potion away. "I'm not taking it." He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not leaving you."

Claire murmured something that was muddled out by her sobbing.

"Sorry," Jim said as he reached up to stroke her hair. "I didn't quite get that."

"We don't know how long you'll live as a half-troll."

"We've known that the amulet could make me die young ever since sophomore year; me becoming human again isn't going to change that. Heck, me being human might make me die sooner, since I won't be as strong and stuff. And I use the daywalking stone all the time, so the chances of me turning to stone are pretty low. And it's not like I'm going to be malnourished, I figured out a diet before we even got to New Jersey."

"Calcification of organs is a thing, even in humans. We've all talked about how there's a high chance of it happening to you because of you being half made of stone," she said, burying her face in his shoulder. "Let's face it, Merlin was almost as bad as Frankenstein when putting you together and he was thinking more short-term. Even if you were just a weapon, which you're not, it was stupid to make you unable to walk in the daylight."

"Is that what you're so worried about?"

"You'd also be happier."

"I'm happy with you. It's not like it was when we were teenagers, I'm doing better than I was back then. Would it be cool to be human again? Yeah, but I'm okay with what I am." He lifted her head so she could look at him, so she could see that he was serious. "I'll make sure to get tested for calcification more often; Mom would appreciate me coming to Arcadia more often anyways. Besides, I may as well get into a better habit for keeping an eye on my health. But until we can be sure that me being a half-troll is going to kill me, I am not taking that potion."

"Okay." Her voice was tight and high-pitched. Fragile. It would only take a couple words to cause her to break down, hopefully in tears and not in a flurry of blackened veins and violet light. How long had she known about her longevity? Was Jim the first person she had told?

"You said you haven't aged since you made that giant portal?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what I said to you back then?"

Some of the hurt on her face changed to that familiar annoyance. "That I shouldn't do it? I know, I messed up and I have to deal with it... forever." The last word was softer. Jim shook his head.

"No, well, we did say that, but that's not what I'm getting at. I told you I wouldn't let you do this alone. And I'm not going back on that promise."

And there was the breakdown of tears.

#jlaire #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #witch!claire #troll!jim #my writing

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simonalkenmayer · 6 years

Text

Me: The comments are along the lines that they think our relationship is unhealthy because of “a power dynamic” that borders on “abusive” or “controlling”

Him: *drops his magazine* ARE YOU KIDDING?

Me: No. that’s what it says. That you’re egotistical and you control me.

Him: How the...what the...FUCK. That’s not fair!

Me: I don’t know, you seem fairly domineering to me.

Him: Oh my god. Look! I mean Jesus! You try convincing a centuries old horror it should sex you up! That shit is fucking difficult!

Me: You come off very pushy, I can’t argue.

Him: YOU wrote it!

Me: Fair.

Him: You shouldn’t let humans give you relationship advice. I mean come on, what are they using as a guide?

Me: Twilight fan fiction.

Him: Oh fuck that. Fuck this.

Me: There you go again...the mistreatment I have to endure at your fragile human hands.

Him: Which you could totally EAT! It’s not fair! You could literally kill me anytime. So what, they’re mad because I pushed you once?

Me: Ypu tackled me.

Him: YOU EAT PEOPLE! I’m dinner! If I don’t put you down in a full giant dog roll-tumble, you’re not going to find me cute enough to keep around. That’s bullshit! This is bullshit! Oh my god!

Me: *pretends to write on book in hand* Hurls invectives, check

Him: *throws magazine at me* Tell them to fuck right off and that to you I’m a giant walking food bag who has to be petted and seduced into giving you a midnight snack. Tell them—

Me: Suddenly, I find you much more attractive!

Him: Tell them that if they have suspicions I’m abusive, I’ll show them all my nice bite marks and the accidental bruises and we’ll compare abuse. Some people...fucking please.

Me: They’re just looking out for me.

Him: FOR A CENTURIES OLD HORROR WHO EATS PEOPLE. Who’s looking out for me? Where are my internet body guards mother fucker?

Me: Write a book. In the meantime, may I please have that promised giant dog tumble roll thing?

Him: *throws pillow, gets up, goes into bathroom, locks door* You fuck right off. *spends the next fifteen minutes mumbling under his breath indignantly* ...this is some fucking bullshit. Like who the fuck? I get nibbled on daily, and I’m cool with that, and someone wants to talk about power dynamic? What the fuck does that even mean? You try fucking Peasant X from 1320 with a head full of teeth like god damn fucking nails. I’m a god damn saint! I’m the nicest most level headed dick you’re ever gonna find. I’m a fucking catch for this death’s head on fucking legs. God fucking damn it!

Me: *chuckles softly until he emerges, still irate* Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself, ridiculous human with “emotions”?

Him: *holds hand out to my face* See? That! Right the fuck there! God damn it!

Me: Does seem a bit silly to use human romantic heuristics to judge an otherwise truly unconventional relationship. I can’t tell if it’s a sign of indoctrination, pack bonding behaviors, or if they just hate you and are jealous.

Him: OH MY GOD! Hate me? God damn it! You want him, come take him! I’m anemic anyway. Fucking bipedal leech!

Me: That’s just cruel Chef.

Him: *suddenly slack face* You’re right! I’m sorry! I’m not mad at you! Im just annoyed and you know I’m fine with—

Me: *Cannot help but chuckle* Oh come on, you can’t think I was serious! I was teasing.

Him: God damn it!

The truth is, you needn’t worry about me being pushed around. I can govern myself, and poor Chef is right. If anyone is to be considered cruel, overbearing, or “in power” betwixt us, it is I. I’m far older, stronger, and experienced. I write my books to give a sense of my feelings, and while I may feel vulnerable around him at times, I never actually am physically vulnerable. I’m a thing accustomed to strength and prowess. Chef interacts with me just fine, or I wouldn’t tolerate his presence. So please don’t fret. I assure you he’s not abusing me.

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peccolias · 7 years

Note

Nonny here again! My prompt if you got the same is Namie meeting the next gen team 7

You meant Boruto, Sarada and Mitsuki by next-gen, right? Here it is…witha SUPER aged-up Namie because I couldn’t resist writing her as a crotchety middle-agedninja dealing with children (especially bratty Boruto).

Genfic

No rating warning, brief alcohol mention

~1,300 words

Standard disclaimer: these extras are AU/closer to canon and unrelated to the Laterality continuum because it would never go this far into the series lol

“Konohamaru, you dragme away from my morning nap, you seriously betterhave something important to say.” Namie leans against the door frame, rubbing attired, lined eyes half-glaring at the young man standing on the other side—the manwho just wouldn’t quit knocking at the door until someone answered. Mostly,he’s grown into a well-mannered adult thanks to his parents, but the annoyingsides of Naruto’s persistence and stubbornnessdefinitely rubbed off on him over the years. No amount of decent child rearing could change that.

“A morning nap? That’s just—” She reaches for the door and he stops that complaint immediately. “Wait, I do! I do, I promise. You know I have a team of genin now, right?” Konohamaru holds up his hands,hoping to ease the tension, because while her glare is mean, her words hold noanimosity. Still, bothering his aunt without good reason is like poking at asleeping bijuu—he knows this from past mistakes.

“Yeah?” She crosses herarms, still giving the stink eye.

“Well—I know this issudden, but everyone else got called away. I thought it’d be a goodidea to bring in a specialist for a lesson, and, y’know…” his voice trails offas she raises an irate brow and he hurriedly gets to the point, pleading. “Look, I wouldn’task if I wasn’t desperate, okay? I’ll even buy you that liquor you like if youhelp!”

He almost flinches whenher eyes turn to the blue scarf tied around his neck and he subconsciously reachesup to tug at its edge, hoping she isn’t thinking of strangling him with it. When her handsreach out he really thinks this is it, this is his last day on earth as aliving shinobi, and being an honorary nephew won’t even save him from herwrath.

But all she does ispurse her lips and straighten the scarf until it sits just right on hisshoulders.

“…You can spar with ‘em,if you want?” he ventures, glad to be spared, cheeks coloring just slightly fromall the embarrassing mother-hen-like fussing. Better than getting kicked into thestreet. But really, the offer is a crapshoot, because getting her to interact with anyonethese days is like pulling teeth.

“Forget the liquor,”she grumbles, setting her hands on her hips. “I’ll do it as a favor, I guess.”

The mention of sparringseems to catch her interest well enough.

“Konohamaru-sensei’sweirdly late today,” Sarada comments, turning to the two teammates sitting onthe grass and leaning against a wooden training log, respectively.

“Not really a problem,”Boruto shrugs, too engrossed in his handheld gaming device to see the exasperatedlook she sends his way. He curses under his breath when the level boss gets thebetter of him and a series of beeps signal gameover. He sticks his tongue out and glances across the field where Sarada’slooking. “Hey, no, there he is!” He freezes. “Wait—who’s that with ‘im? That’snot…is it?” He jumps to his feet andsquints as they come into view.

“He did say he’d bebringing a specialist in today. Do you know them, Boruto?” Mitsuki asks, pushingaway from the log and approaching his teammates, shielding his eyes from thesun as he watches the two approaching figures. No—three. There’s a dog loping alongat their side, too.

Boruto doesn’t answer,and groans under his breath instead.

Namikaze Namie—better knownas his unsociable hermit of a great aunt who’s only ever been to maybe two family celebrations and doesn’t do much to prove that his dad’s side of the familyis anything but distant—follows behindKonohamaru, and she doesn’t look any more pleased to be here than he is to seeher here.

When they stop, she crosses her arms, and it’s clear to see she hasno ninja equipment on her person whatsoever. An easy thing to tell because allshe’s wearing is a pair of old grey sweatpants and a tank top. Why even bother, then.

“Oh, it’s you. I thought you didn’t do this kindof thing anymore?” Boruto cuts in with a frown, before Konohamaru even has the chance tointroduce the guest. She turns to him, and narrows her eyes ever-so-slightlybefore grinning. She doesn’t speak just yet, even as Sarada elbows him in theside and gripes at him for his rude greeting and tone.

��Soyou do know her,” Mitsuki comments, afaint smile on his face.

“Yeah,she’s my great aunt,” he huffs out, crossing his arms in a similar way, not breaking the gaze.

“‘Great Aunt?’ Way to make me feel old,Boruto.” Despite the faux-wounded tone of voice, her lips are still set in a wrygrin.

Boruto narrows his eyes.“Whatever. You do look like an oldbum. Why aren’t you in uniform? Put some effort into this, at least, ‘ttebasa.”

“What,you expect me to show up in my Sunday best for a spar? Gimme a break.”

“You—”

Konohamaru clears histhroat and quickly intervenes, but not without some amusement. It isn’t oftensomeone can match Boruto’s attitude. At this rate, though, it might just fan theflames. “Now, now. Sarada, Mitsuki, this is Namie. She’s here to showcase aspecially-developed jutsu since we’ve been studying the creation of newtechniques.”

“What kind of jutsu?”Sarada asks, blinking slowly behind her glasses, eyes shrewd. A realizationhits her. “Actually, you’re not justrelated to the Seventh, you—”

“Who cares? Just show it already,” Boruto interruptswith a scoff. He uncrosses his arms and sizes her up, wondering just what kindof special jutsu his aunt created. None he’s heard of, for sure. Can’t be tooimpressive—no matter who she is.

Mitsuki looks betweenthem, slightly apologetic as Sarada fumes. “Wait, I’d like to hear this, too.”

“No—I agree. Let’s justget into this.” Namie turns to Konohamaru. “Mind if I take over from here?” Itisn’t really a request.

“Ah…no. Go ahead.” Reluctantly,he takes a few steps back, careful to step over the big brown dog snoozing inthe grass, giving the lesson over to her. Watching from the sidelines won’t beso bad. Hopefully.

“Alright.” The grindrops from her face as she turns back to the three genin who return the starewith varying degrees of wariness. “You three come at me with your best shot. Don’thold back.”

“Just like that?”Sarada’s eyes widen, and she and Mitsuki remain still, caught off guard by therequest, but they’re the only ones.

Boruto breaks into an immediate lunge, hands forming the seals for the Shadow Clone jutsu, duplicatinghimself threefold.

He and the group ofclones close in with echoing yells—some throwing kicks, some striking with kunai.

But none make contact.

Soles of sandalscollide with a shimmery yellow-gold surface radiating from Namie’s palm. Kunairicochet off. Nothing breaks through, and the collision shocks the clones intoevaporating, leaving nothing but smoke behind. And Boruto, lingering in the haze. His foot remains planted against the chakra shield—her hand shoots out to snag him bythe ankle.

Before she can get a firm grip,he substitutes away and she’s left with a wooden stump at her feet. She kicks it aside as her eyes follow his retreat.

“Well, you’re fast,” she praises,and if he hears, he doesn’t show it—only crouches a safe distance away, eyeswide. He doesn’t move to attack again.

“…You’re the creator ofthe Shining Golden Chakra Shield, also known as Aura. And you gained quite abit of fame during the Third and Fourth Shinobi Wars!” Sarada completes herearlier sentence, hands clutched in front of her chest as she takes a stepforward, eyes filled with admiration.

“Ah, yeah…been a while since I’ve heard that,” Namie nods, lowering her hand, dispersing her chakra shield. She rubsat her shoulder for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Anyway, what about you two? Mitsuki, Sarada, right? How ‘bout you threemake a joint effort this time? Land a hit on me and I’ll tell you the specificsof this technique.” The grin returns. “Ifyou think you can.”

Both look back toBoruto, who breaks out of his daze and walks up to join them. The three exchangea nod and charge in with determined smiles.

#Anonymous #peccolia writes stuff #laterality(fanfic)#namikaze namie (oc)#using what knowledge i have from the sarada manga and the boruto movie #thanks for the prompt!

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