#OCTAVIAN MY BELOVED | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

praetorialreject · 1 month ago

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OUUUGGHHHH...............MY KENURI HEART........

∘𓈒⚬⋆𓆣🪡Needle Through a Bug🪡𓆣⋆⚬𓈒∘

Ship: Kenny Ackerman x Uri Reiss Word Count: 3970 Prompt Word: Punish

Tw/Cw: Cruelty/Torture of an insect, self harm, Eating disorders, Fatphobic language.

Please note: I am in no way, shape, or form fatphobic.

He should have been there. He should have stood by to support Uri as he gave his life to the jaws of his niece.

“He doesn't want you there! Fuck off!” The fat fuck had pushed him back into the night, his fat fists pounding on Kenny's chest to keep him from once more attempting to make an entry.

“Hey, calm your tits, he told me to-”.

“It doesn't matter! He changed his mind, now head back to whatever part of the sewers you crawled out from, and leave us be!”

His mouth was as fat as his head, and his head as fat as his body. Kenny had always thought him dumb, “Ugly fuck” he would have pushed past him, found a way of entry and been there for Uri as they had agreed, if it hadn't been for that child that now stared daggers into his soul. Was that her? Was that the girl who would soon devour Uri whole? Was she staring out of hate, or perhaps curiosity?

“We had an agreement” Kenny began his next argument. Uri had promised him that he would get to see this ritual of theirs, this transformation of man. It would be beneficial to the both of them, Uri had said. For that way Kenny's thirst would be quenched, if even for just a moment. And Uri, though he hadn't voiced this to Kenny, wouldn't have to feel as scared, if he could look past the beast that was his niece, and catch a glimpse of this man, his companion.

An argument started was never finished, for the girl who's curiosity had brought her out of hiding now looked up to Kenny with eyes so similar to his. Yet deep within those eyes laid fear, a fear Kenny quickly assumed was aimed towards his presence there. A look he never thought Uri could carry, if only he could have looked inside- maybe they weren't so similar after all? “Get your hand off of me”

Finally giving in, Kenny smacked Rod's hand away from himself, staring down at the short man with enough hatred to feed Satan for days. Then he turned, and he didn't look back even once as he walked away from the chapel that would become his.. companions.. final resting place.

Upon arriving home, Kenny found his nest to be much emptier than usual, much colder than he remembered it ever being before. It felt as if the building itself had lost Its spark, its soul.

Kenny moved around a lot, never stayed in the same place for more than a week at the time. Rarely he would return to a residence he had resided in before, it only ever happened if the owner was a new one from the first time he had been there. It was easiest that way, helped him avoid detection when needed, and also eased his mind somewhat. He would have continued this path even if he had lived a normal life, that much he was certain of. However, this also meant that Uri had never set foot in his current residence, so it had no reason to feel the way it did now.

Cold, like how Kuchels's room had felt when he found her for the last time. And much like back then, the tall man silently leant against a dry wood wall, feeling how the rough texture lifted his coat and allowed splinters to dig themselves Into his back. He didn't mind the pain, not now. In fact, a smile crept onto his lips, for in some ways this felt good.

The wall was run-down enough to release splinters large enough to cut through his clothes, draw blood. The owner must be some drunkard who doesn't know how to care for his rooms. The splinters dug into his back as those teeth must have dug into Uri. He wondered what it must have felt like? For those teeth are much larger than any splinter, needle, or knife. Had they offered him something to drink? Eased his pain before tradition forced him to take his final breath? Was he even dead yet? Or was he still chained up down there?

Enough thinking, a drink sounded damn good right now.

If only the drink had been cold, perhaps it would have actually been good. No matter, it went down Kenny's throat in large gulps anyway, a desperate attempt at numbing his mind before the thoughts grew too unkind. Was beer like blood if you imagined it hard enough? Lukewarm beer down a cold man's throat, like a small man's blood down into a large woman's stomach.

He spat it out. The last sip of beer he took was taken at the halfway mark of his bottle, and so the bottle met with the wall before him, flying through stale air before colliding hard and shattering into a million pieces. It's blood soaking the floorboards, its bones cracked and splintered, mangled, as if-

The images of Uri's body, wrecked and torn, was no more than speculation from Kenny's side. If that piglet had just let him in, there would have been no room for this, he would have known exactly how he had looked, perhaps it would have given him peace?

Although Kenny didn't know why he sought peace, he had known of Uri’s eventual fate since they met. He had been prepared for this day since the day Uri explained to him how their world worked. Never had he had a problem with it, in fact he found it fascinating. Power granted down the generation through the death of one's loved ones? It couldn't be anything but fascinating, and Kenny wanted in.

In on the power, not the love.

Love is a weakness.

He had learned that many years ago.

He had been younger then, just returned home with the bastard Kuchel had burdened him with. He never intended to be its father, so that was how he had thought of it for the first week or so, as an it, not a kid, not a human. Though of course that didn't last.

He came home late each and every night, so quickly the runt had learned to feed himself, fight for himself, and bed himself. The second skill always brought a smile to Kenny's face, the kid would be alright. Not that he cared if he lived or died, surely, but the kid would be alright. And it was more than amusing watching something so small cause as much havoc as this one did. Grown men on the ground by the hand of a child that couldn't be anywhere near his puberty yet.

Though he ate like his stomach was endless. The man in charge didn't know much about kids, never had, and never did he learn either. Yet he had taken this as a good sign, he'd grow to be big and strong despite his circumstance, good.

As any Ackerman should.

One of those late nights, Kenny had returned home to an empty house. Weird, usually the kid would make sure Kenny returned before he laid to rest, and on those nights where Kenny didn't return, or returned after the child's fuel had died down, the boy would be sleeping upright, arms crossed over his tiny body, as if waiting for his guardian. Kenny figured perhaps the boy didn't feel completely safe all alone.

This night, Kenny had waited for the boy instead, his tired body raged on as he occupied himself with whatever book the home's owner kept around, or whatever defenseless bug crawled across his table.

With a jar and some toothpicks, Kenny found amusement.

Icy blue eyes stalked their prey. His breath now silent as he leant down to the old raggedy table, watching the rapid movements of six tiny legs, whilst also making sure not to spook it. He had already lost his battle to four of these flying pests; he refused to lose once more. As the being rushed closer, his breath came to a full stop, he had burned himself on that mistake once before.

Bang

The jar came down upon the shit-eater like God's hand is said to strike down upon the unrepentant.

And just like that man would, the fly began buzzing about, slamming its hard body against the glass that contained it. And Kenny watched, feeling the heavy jar buzz against his hand as the weak creature used all its little power to fight a useless battle for freedom. It was admirable perhaps, that it managed even this.

Perhaps he himself was God? To those smaller and weaker, perhaps Kenny the Ripper was God.

He let it tire itself out, enjoying the buzzing more the more desperate it grew. “you feeble thing..” It landed for a moment, only to start its panicked frenzy once more “it won't be long now” as if calmed down by his voice, the bug once more landed, stressfully beginning to clean itself. Watching it, Kenny was almost sure it would rip its own head off. Again and again it repeated this action, and every time those tiny legs ran over it's head, Kenny held his breath in anticipation. How could something that lived in filth and shit care so much about being clean? Something so small and worthless had no reason to care for its appearance.

When you go to meet God, you want to put on your best suit. Perhaps.

It never did rip its head off, and perhaps this was disappointing to Kenny, he was certain he had seen it before, some fly holding its own head in its hands. Had it been hoping to put it back on? Save its life before it was too late and live to see another day? Maybe not, maybe it had already been long dead, frozen in time, overtaken by death as it acted on its desire to be clean. Being clean meant nothing, as long as you managed to keep your health, a bit of filth wouldn't be the end of you. Stupid thing really, dying while doing something as boring as cleaning.

The bug's incessant need for cleanliness was becoming bothersome to the man. If he was to let it go, it would fly over to the nearest shit pile it found, so why did it even bother? Useless.

He didn't let it go, of course. Instead he began rapidly shaking the jar back and forth, sending the small helpless creature crashing from wall to wall much harder than it had before. It tried to fly away, and had taken flight the moment the jar started moving. The choice had been between getting crushed by the walls that contained it, lying broken on the rumbling table as the jar again and again would run it over, rub its innards into the porous table and make it part of it. Like soldiers crushed underneath a titans feet, stomped to jam, and later turned to feed for the soil. Or, of course, taking flight and having Its brains scrambled. Did flies have brains? Probably not, he figured.

Once the creature was dizzy enough, Kenny had quickly lifted the jar and tossed it aside, hearing it come crashing down upon the floor somewhere to his left. The kid would probably sweep It up in the morning, if he comes back that is.

Grabbing old and used toothpicks, the man swiftly turned the being onto its back. Hurriedly those wooden objects had come down upon it, keeping it from moving at all. One pick in each of its wings, keeping it strapped down to the table, its wings outstretched much like the arms of a man chained for slaughter.

A hand laid upon the daggers of wood, keeping them balanced well enough for Kenny to free a hand and use it freely whilst still managing to keep the fly pinned. Watching its strength-less legs kick against the air felt much like reading a good book.

It wouldn't keep those legs, for Kenny’s free hand soon reached down, sharp unkempt nails gripping onto the fragile limbs, and one by one he'd pluck them off.

“Hey” as a last act of violence towards the bug, Kenny pulled the toothpicks into opposing directions, effectively ripping the things wings off. “You're home” standing up, Kenny's eyes met with the kid who had greeted him. “You're ho-” the child too, had spoken.

The bug had become part of the table anyway, under the palm of this man.

“Didya win?” The kid was all bloody, no wonder he had been late. “that yours?” The boy wasn't replying to him. “hm” the child scoffed, limping his way over to his bed.

At least he was home.

The night reached its time out, and early morning crept in before Kenny went to check on the kid. He had waited til he was certain his slow breathing was the one of a sleeping boy, not an angry one, Kenny would have been angry.

He stood above him, watched each breath he took, watched as his small frame lifted and sank under the thin blanket. So easily breakable.

His face was nearly unrecognizable now, swollen and bruised. Blood still stained the child's lips, crusted in his nose. He slept with his mouth open, perhaps it was all clogged up, broken maybe?

Kenny was angry.

An uncertain hand moved to the boy's face, and much too gently pushed the boy's tangled hair to the side. The fly had never known such tenderness, and after Levi, there had only been one other man who had seen it.

Yet for a moment, an array of images flashed through Kenny's mind. Images of him gripping the kid by his head, covering his eyes with his palm as he pushes him back into the flat and torn pillow. Raising his other hand, a knife was brought down to the kid's tender throat, digging into it as easily as a spoon through a tub of animal fat. Wasn't much different, really, not with a sharp enough knife and skilled enough hand.

“Kenny?”

“Kid.”

“What are you doing?”

He held no knife, yet his hand rested on the boy's clammy forehead. Staring, he must have been staring.

“Sleep with one eye open, kid. Doors are weak, don't ever let your guard down.”

With those words the lanky man left the child to his own devices. His hand who so desperately had ached for its friend, for its completion was finally offered the soothing cold texture of a blade held tightly in its palm. Trembling, Kenny had almost cut himself before finding the handle. Glistening in the dull light of the underground, it wasn't long until the icy metal once more was dirtied by filthy blood. “What kinda fuck picks a fight with a child?”

Words were fleeting, and by the time Kenny sat back down to rest, only after making sure the door was tightly locked behind him; he had already forgotten the advice given to Levi.

Levi however, never forgot.

Kenny had been younger then.

The floorboards had drunk his beverage, leaving naught but a stain. For how long had he been sitting here? His legs had grown all numb, all the way to his hips, his back ached like hell, and not only thanks to the splinters still buried deep into his skin, like a needle through a helpless flailing bug.

Hungry, his stomach was screaming out for anything that would or could fill it. Following the most basic instinct he pushed up from the floor, cringing at the tingling piercing feeling that washed over his lower half as he stumbled towards the nearest cupboard.

His limbs all shook as he scanned his belongings, he had an abundance of food, yet he reached for none of it. Screaming at him to grab something, anything, his stomach twisted and turned. The more it rioted, the more he hesitated.

“Nah-” the floor was once more fed with needless filth for bugs to consume. Kenny had barely managed to turn away before ridding himself of what little had resided within the depths of his stomach. May have resided? Never before had vomiting burnt this badly.

Again and again the man had attempted to satisfy his hunger, but each and every time he failed. Vomit was left to rot into his floor, marinating. He should have moved by now, he had stayed around for far too long. He should move on, the smell was making it impossible to eat, and Kenny didn't have the strength to kneel down to clean it up.

It hadn't taken long before he ceased these feeble attempts at feeding. He was starting to find comfort in the pain, the hunger was starting to feel safe and familiar, strengthening as it slowly ate at him, rid him of what he held above all things, his power.

As the world has eaten away his Uri.

He could no longer recognize the man who stared back at him from the reflection of his dusty mirror. Hollow and weak, never before had he looked hollow and weak. His cheeks had sunk, his eyes looked drained and empty, too heavy for their sockets. He could no longer recognize the man before him, a man who had felt the warm touch of love, Uri’s love, and regrettably let it slip out between his fingers.

He didn't look weak, he was weak. He had allowed the world to steal away the only good thing that had ever came to him unprompted. Uri had never a day in his life needed to be kind to Kenny, yet he had chosen to be. Despite how they met, despite Kenny’s crude behaviour, Uri remained smiling, telling him stories from his world, and allowing Kenny to be just who he was. Never once had Uri given him those ugly looks his grandfather had oftentimes tried to hide, never did Uri use Kenny's past against him, nor did he view him as a monster. If anything, the monster was perhaps the saint that had shown the man grace.

No, he was his light, his much needed light. Not a monster, not even one bit. Kenny was indeed the only monster between them, titan or not. “You up there? Uri? Up in the stars shinin’ down at me? Can you see me now, Uri? Look, I'm crying too.”

The hunger felt good, the hunger felt deserved.

Perhaps this way he would meet him again?

The tears? They did nothing but burn.

Pain had become his friend, if the divine refused to punish him, he would take it into his own hands. Now satisfaction was found in the hunger, not in getting rid of it. Boredom was killed alongside the smoothness of his skin. A cold blade helped him forget, an empty stomach made him feel like he was finally able to repent, even if just a little bit. Finally, willing.

Months had passed since Uri's death when a heavy knock upon his door woke Kenny from a dream in which Uri's gentle hands had played with his hair as they rested in a large green field, their skin being kissed by the warm sun. Those all knowing eyes of his were so beautiful in the light. “What!?” Damn bothersome, he should have found another place to stay.

He hauled himself up on his feet, stumbling before he had even lifted his leg to take a step forth. Walking had grown to be a heavy task, one he no longer performed every day. He kept bottles in which he'd empty his bladder, what other reason would he have to get up anyway?

“I'm comin’ !” The knocks were growing more and more insistent. “Calm down!” One of these bottles made themselves an obstacle in his path, Kenny's whole body jolted as he tripped over the glass, watching as it fell over and began pouring its sorry insides back into the world. “Damn-” it smelled worse all out and about.

From the moment his hand pushed down on the handle, hell was preparing to blow up in the old serial killer's face. Or perhaps more so, a gun. A weapon that as soon as the door opened had been turned with its hind towards him and slammed into his face. “Hey!-” before he had even managed to reach for his jaw, soothe the pain, a man had come to tackle Kenny straight to the ground.

Too weak to fight back properly, the boney man began tossing about underneath the man who's knee pressed so painfully down against his spine. The angry scream that erupted from the ripper's lungs vibrated through his chest and into the creaking wood floor. Vibrated like a fly’s buzzing within a glass jar, held tightly by a devil who's grin only grew wider the more it struggled.

Face down in piss and weeks old molded vomit, Kenny came to realize that perhaps this shit-crawler was him all along. Was cleaning perhaps, the bug, no ,Levi’s way of trying to build a distance them between, or worse! Levi’s own attempt at saving his foolish uncle from himself, just as Uri had.

The abuse didn't last. Upon realizing that there was little fight in Kenny, the man had gotten off, laughing at him before pulling him up from the ground and tossing him back onto the couch the man just stood from.

Kenny braced himself for whatever might come next, more abuse, or perhaps they'd gone rogue and would kill him, avenge their fallen comrades. Better yet, maybe they'd gotten the order to.

Legal assassins, the whole bunch.

Little did Kenny know that exactly that was the offer they were to put before him.

A license to kill.

“I don't drink this piss.” the man muttered, making the military personnel before him give him a look of disbelief before removing the cup he had offered the older man. Tea had never been Kenny's thing, the kid had liked it though, he wondered if he still did. Did he find the time?

They kept chatting with him for what felt like hours, but Kenny had little interest in what they had to say. “You look like shit, get back into shape.” Rude, firstly. Secondly, even If he had wanted to, now he'd rather not out of spite. “I don't have the strength.” Kenny's voice rasped painfully out of his throat. “So how about you do me a favour, and kill yourself. I'll watch ."The MP's Didn't find it as amusing as he did, apparently. For as Kenny cracked a smile, the men's frowns only grew deeper.

And then they kept talking. And talking.. Well one of them did anyway, the other instead stood back, arms crossed over his chest. Kenny could have gone to sleep, he wouldn't have felt like he was missing out on anything important. If he closed his eyes again, perhaps he'd find Uri once more. He was feeling drained, as If his life was finally running out.

He didn't want to die, not yet. No, he remembered now, there was something he had to do first.

“Where are you going!? Sit down!” a damn squeaky voiced man, Kenny caught himself wondering if hair ever grew on military cunts’ chests. The tall Ackerman hadn't even realized he had gotten up and started walking.

Yeah, wouldn't they like to know?

No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps thanks to the weapon that finally was gripped confidently in his hand once more. No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps they didn't dare?

He would find him.

And when he did, that squealing piggy would find himself on Kenny's plate. He couldn't die yet, not before Rod.

The world is cruel, perhaps none of this was Rod's fault, but that coward deserved it regardless.

“Come piggy, piggy, Piggy~”

#not octavian #THEM!!!#kenuri my tragic beloveds

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cabin10diaries · 1 year ago

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im so im so. obsessed with jason but specifically what other people think of him

reyna oh my beloved reyna <333 she knew him the best of everyone and then he disappeared, came back brand new? new friends, new girl, new person, and shes glad he's happy but where did HER jason go ? the one she trained with, spent years getting close with, spending all her time with? he was taken from her, and as happy as she is for the new jason he can never fill her heart the same

piper my lovely was basically coerced into a relationship built on false narratives with him, and she broke up bc that wasnt right !! what were they now? ofc, they were friends, but the tension of fake memories and fading feelings was still effective. it was so hard to talk to him but she wanted it to be easy again like in her fake memories

leo (this is valgraced bc im a valgrace truther ok?) hated him but loved him as a friend and more. jason was what leo wanted to be; respected, smart, listened to, not seeming like a burden. he wanted that so bad, which made him want jason, too. stuck between do i want my best friends boy or do i want to kill him and take his place? he was soo jealous but guilty of the jealousy bc it wasnt like it was jasons fault the way ppl treated the two differently. and jason was the same to leo, he wanted leos humor and be able to make a room laugh instead of having them glare at him for being to stern, even tho thats what he had been taught to do. they found a unique bond with each other by wanting aspects of each other while liking the parts they didnt want to be

cohort5/new rome [bar hazel and frank] etc looked up to him so much. he was their role model, their leader, their voice of reason, the person to turn to, THE guy. they basically idolized and dehumanized him to nothing but the boy who was raised to lead them, especially bc he was the son of jupiter. the first in so long, ofc he was important and special, why treat him like normal ?

percy ,,, he respected jason eventually. they clashed but they learned how to work through the clashing and fight alongside each other instead of against each other. they had similar yet dif personalities, percy fighting to be listened to while jason had been forced to speak. both leaders, respected, treated like leaders but in dif ways bc of the way their social groups functioned. they both wanted what each other had; percy wanted the stability of new rome, knowing he'd have people that would come back alive every summer. jason wanted the close bonds of camp halfblood without being put into a heavy spotlight

thalia loved him. he was her younger brother, how could she not? she pitied him, tho, from the way he lived in new rome. she knew the life well, being thrown into the spotlight and everything bc she herself was a daughter of zeus (like how chiron and camp treated her, esp if u compare it with how they treated percy after she came back) and hoped he would find a place better. her arms were always open for him but she had another life she wanted to live, too

octavian. pure hatred and jealousy. jason was everything he wanted. he was in leader positions, respected, listened to. octavian thought of him similarly to leo, but without the good bond. he despised jason because he wanted everything jason got just for being born from jupiter. it was unfair, and octavian decided to take advantage when jason disappeared. he wouldnt have another chance to take the spots that belonged to him

nico grew fond of him. he couldnt not have, esp after how jason treated him after the cupid incident. immediately showing his trust, backing him up, etc etc, it was finally someone nico could trust and talk to after years of running from camp and monsters and guilt of dead sisters and tense/awkward friend?ship with his very happily taken crush. nico found someone he could depend on, even if he didnt want to

beryl damn. she had some love for him. deep down, she knew she did, he was her son. but she couldnt focus on him, she had her life to take. her downfall started with thalia and zeus, jason made it worse. even if he was her son, the little love she had for him was so hard to find. too hard to even try. so, she left him, maybe hoping for a better life for him, or wanting to get rid of him. she knew both reasons were true

hedge isnt too talked about in general but he loved jason okay. the son he never had, before chuck. he was him and leos and pipers protector, and he would lay down his life for any of the three. they were his children, even if he no longer talks to them, theyll hold the spot in his heart

hazel and frank and annabeth had similar thoughts about jason. none were really close; hazel and frank looked up to jason like the rest of new rome, but could see him as a person because they actually talked to him. they thought positively about jason, he was friends with all three. even if they werent as close as tlh trio, they still liked jason. how could you not, after a war stuck with them? they think of jason like one does with a friend who used to be close, but grew apart simply because of time. they like him, but theyre not close

hera oh !! he was her son. he was her champion. he was hers, even if he was caused by the reoccuring infidelity of her husband. he was her champion and she loved him like a son. she had a genuine bond with him, one thats hard to form with a god and mortal/demigod. she was the better beryl, and him the better heracles

lesterpollo. he thinks of jason so. much. i firmly believe jason was a big big big part in lester changing, i mean, watching someone know they were going to die and WILLINGLY go into the situation? he had nothing but respect and admiration towards jason. jason was like a mentor to him, showing and reminding him of the right thing to do

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