#hit first - plan later

[nenestansunsthings]

having svsss au ideas beyond my station

thinking. shang qinghua goes on a mission as a young disciple to some town in fuckoff nowhere and finds himself in the qiu household. and there he finds a young shen jiu, undergoing the plot he originally intended for him and hadn't realised had become real and he's so young oh god hes so young why is he so small what do you mean that part was real, he hadn't kept it why is it real—

and he panics and sneaks him the Fuck out of that house

and he's not sure what to do but surely sending him to cang qiong will fuck up something in the plot and he can't come under even more investigation and cang qiong tryouts dont happen for months anyway and his system would probably never allow it (it doesnt. it would interfere with yue qingyuans story) but shen jiu is refusing to stay anywhere near this place and wants to learn cultivating to protect himself make sure nothing like this ever happens again and sqh panics harder and

calls mobei jun.

okay. on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea. but he stumbles over himself and shushes baby shen jiu's very understandable freaking out and asks his king for the first thing hes ever asked for other than his own life.

is there any way this human child could learn cultivation in the demon world?

[fullbattleregalia]

The time has finally come-

To hit things with my hitting things stick.

[moogghost]

i just beat cassette beasts and i'm a fan of the ending honestly i lowkey think i may do art of it later bc i got such a vision and got ill (<- decided to listen to into the light splatoon 2 during ending. i am not well /hj). but i'm here mostly to show the fruits of my labour (see: the horrific way i decided to play this game right until i got off my ass and did the end-game stuff instead of fighting nothing but rogue fusions with 4-5 bouts of bootleg hunting sprinkled in there)

i think i got 50 fused material idk though

[compacflt]

idk if this question has already been answered or not but idrc, would your ice have considered it "talking about it" to admit his physical attraction towards mav? like calling him beautiful or genuinely complementing him. this goes for mav too

i do feel post debriefing ice would call mav beautiful openly or some sappy bs like that

love your writing 💌

anon i need you to know this ask was so cute it made me physically nauseous. i was sick all week thinking about how cute this ask was. thank you for sending it.

i actually had a couple drabbles where yes ice both pre- and post-TGM mission is like yeah im physically attracted to you, but it’s less like “oh my god you’re so hot 😍” and more like “i mean, yeah, you objectively look like tom cruise so it’s not like i really have a choice.”

but “beautiful” specifically i had not thought of, and it has knocked me off my feet and made me go feral/rabid/undomesticated for a few days straight, so i will be writing something about this. thanks.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

[longagoitwastuesday]

Rereading my own posts about JJK and the tags I left in those posts is making me want to chew wood. I knew virtually nothing but yeah yeah. The parallels between Gojo and Sukuna not only exist, but they are key. Yeah, Gojo indeed knows, trusts and relies on the people around his age he interacts with in that flippant, intimate and vulnerable way (Ijichi, Shoko, Nanami, Utahime); they were his classmates and childhood friends. Yes, Megumi and Gojo do go way back, I wasn't hallucinating it; in the last chapters, this will weight on the scenes in which Megumi laughs and smiles faintly. Yes, Gojo does sincerely care about things and the kids, and tries his best to do good and be good, even if he's also annoying and rude. Yes, indeed it is all very lonely. Yes, indeed there's ontological alienation. Yes, indeed love is like a curse, it is even stated that way. Yes, indeed last words doom, and keep people going; that too is a blessing and a curse, like love is. Yes, there's significance in Gojo using "boku". Yes, "when granted everything, you can't do anything... but just die peacefully" does apply to Gojo's life miserably. Yes, indeed there is a mix of longing for a normal life and being drunk on power, the feeling that one is hindering the future generations and a desire to make it better for them. Yes, indeed it is a mix of selfish and selfless motives. Yes, Gojo musing about Nobara's power being intriguing is indeed shady. Yes, Gojo's death will be done in a way that imply continuity kinda similarly to Cantor's hypothesis on the cardinality of the Continuum. And so on and on. Unfair how well constructed this manga is. Unfair how much wasted potential there is in it too. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop being frustrated about it all. It's so good. It's so unsatisfactory. The last chapter made me smile because oh it made so much sense, of course; it also broke my heart, because of course. I wish I had never gotten into it. It's given me a lot of joy, despite everything. I've drowned in remembrance. I've had a lot of fun. And in short, I love it, quite honestly. I can't even wish I didn't. I resent it, but I can't even wish I didn't. I love it, it's both a blessing and a curse; but that's how it always goes when it comes to love.

[crimzoncrow]

🌹

I can’t pick just one for this wip, so have two!

If this spell messes with Kon's memories, if it makes him think that there's always been something where there was nothing—Tim can never in good conscience get into a relationship with him.

I love you, Tim is going to loop in his brain until he dies and every single time it'll just remind him of this and how none of it is real.

[userkoo]

in other news, i think i've finally!!!! planned out and fully decided on my first tattoo and will be scheduling her shortly

[kellystar321]

.

[asheanon]

Kuja and Sal MerAU.

— For @mahkohime

From: Ask Box Writing Prompt Game

📖 It's Story Time... (And some music to accompany!)

The tour would not end there, no. Wherever "there" was.

As the two denizens of the deep descended down the corridor, they were soon accompanied by familiar faces (the term "faces" being used rather loosely, in this instance.)

Pitch black, furnished with large, luminescent pearl-like orbs partly obscured by the brims of their pointed hats, the cephalopod-shaped masses reappeared. They slunk around them, minding the various fins and features of the two in the process. Akin to nautiluses, they swam with their sharp chapeaus leading the way, point first. It was hard to say whether they truly threatened to impale or gently poke whoever and whatever may impede them, however... after all, what were those dapper duds of theirs even made of? She certainly didn't know. Curious things; though she had come to retain some information on them by now, Sal still found herself puzzling over aspects of their existence.

In time, the Mer and these tenebrous "creatures of servitude" (as they were often "affectionately" referred to here) came to a halt before a large entryway. They swarmed around the doors, dexterous tentacles finding purchase wherever they may, slowly pushing them open.

A panoply of antique treasures soon appeared before them. Rays of sunlight, warped by the motions of the sea, filtered through the windows, casting an animated array of warm light upon the scene. Most all that lie within glistened with splendor. It was an art gallery, rich in culture. And, unsurprisingly, it was just as sumptuous as the rest of the aquatic estate.

Basking in the limelight of his possessions amidst their big debut, Kuja swerved around, facing her. Crossing paths with the sun's rays, the shimmer of his silver scales cascaded down the length of his tail as it followed him.

“Splendid, is it not?” He certainly put the "extra" in "extravagant."

Sal nodded in response, little more. There was an initial silence as she drifted slowly into the room, studying its contents with care.

Thankfully, he was no stranger to her thoughtful bouts of silence by now. There were times previous where it came off strangely unsettling, despite her often warm and gentle demeanor. Even in its familiarity, however, he still had his moments of uncertainty.

He stole a glance, studying her as her eyes continued to traverse the treasures within. After taking her time to observe many a detail, at last, she spoke.

"There are so many years of so many different lives here. Countless intricacies of creative minds and dreams made manifest. Unique, yet unified by the nature of artistic pursuit."

A small sigh debuted as an intermission between lines. Her feelings felt to be ineffable in this instance, but an attempt to translate them was made nonetheless.

"It's beautiful. And a lot to take in, when you really think about it."

There it was. Magnificent. With the spectacle thoroughly lauded, the grin the noble Mer bore swelled with pride, dazzling and oddly ingenuous for a man of his class. Perhaps it had something to do with who was doing the lauding today.

It was then that Sal noticed it. Amidst all the sparkle, shine and tales yet divined, there was one particular artifact that caught her eye. Carefully and without sparing another word, she navigated past the still-gloating merman, swimming down to a portion of the room.

Sure enough, she had spied a mirror. Her eyes met with their own reflection before lingering elsewhere. Intricate designs danced down the frame that contained it, telling stories she would never know. Though, there was one she may be able to glean from it...

The pad of her thumb met with her ring, lightly rubbing at it. It was the ring that could most always be found upon the index finger of her right hand. The Wayfarer's Ring. She entertained the thought of trying to use it here... not now, but at a later date, perhaps...

"Ah, yes... a personal favorite. Procured from the depths."

Her musings were interrupted by her fellow Mer as he appeared behind her. Of course this was a personal favorite.

Briefly, Sal humored herself with the addition of said thought into the thought pool as she continued to study the mirror. Inadvertently, her eyes met with the reflection of his in the process. The moment was fleeting... as it often proved to be with her.

"I too can't help but to stare sometimes..."

Suddenly, she felt something softly graze her hips. Hands, cradling her; arms gently wrapping themselves around her waistline.

A wave of uncertainty washed over her, head falling as she peered into an empty space somewhere upon the floor. However, her eyes soon returned to the mirror, meeting with the reflected gaze of her elegant... "friend." Or whatever he was now, really. His eyes were set upon her parallel image.

They idled before the mirror, motionless, spare the gentle sway of staying afloat. Cerulean irises locked with bright celadon. For better and for worse, it was a moment that felt to be frozen in time.

Softly, he hummed to himself. She could see his eyes wandering, landing somewhere just off the mark for eye contact.

"Surely, to be forced to hide such beauty is a sin."

It was as if her heart sank - or she was stricken by some other manner of poetic interpretation of a troublesome reaction. Either way, claimed by unease, she knew exactly what he was referring to. This time, a sigh of a more weary nature escaped her. It was not the first of its kind in relation to the soon-to-be subject.

"This close to the surface, it's necessary."

"Not here, though." One of his hands was drawn up. Lightly, it brushed her back before finding its way to the topic of discussion: those long, delicate tentacles of hers, normally sprouting from the base of her head.

Today, they hid beneath white and gold ornamentation, wrapped in a dark azure silk. The fabric bore silver embroidery and flecks of white; designs that appeared as abstract mimicry of the deepest depths of the sea and sky. Her hair had been braided and interwoven within the wrapping rather artfully.

Though all was bound and tucked away beneath such adornments, its glow could not be contained. Those who looked upon it knew the truth, there was no denying it. She was an Abyssal. An Α Abyssal who refused to cut it all away and medically suppress the regrowth. She could bind it, but could never part with her heritage, as some of her kind had chosen to.

She was not the only Abyssal entity present, however...

"You needn't hide who you are from me, my dear." Though elegant and persuasive as ever, what was coming to be commonplace commentary continued to fill the air - or water, rather. Here's to another day of this song and dance of theirs... A finger traced the beginnings of the intricate wrapping of her headdress; its claw dipping into a space between the ivory and lapis blue silk, tugging lightly.

"Don't." The mermaid's tone was less restrained. Firm.

Reflexively, Kuja laughed to himself. It was more of a titter, really... but no matter! "Shall I cast it again, then?"

Just like her, many mysteries of the Abyss intertwined with his DNA. Though, he was an Abyssal of a different make. A Ψ Abyssal. Much like others of his ilk, he possessed the faculty for what most of the world(s) populations had come to interpret as "magic." And such sorcery had its fair share of workarounds when it came to... hazards, such as herself. Or at least in theory.

With an eloquent wave of the hand, a shimmer of light manifested, scintillae forming all around the prodigal Mer before coating his body. Another barrier spell.

"Better?" Fetching as he made his conviction out to be, even so, he was met by silence. Silence and an utterly unmoved expression on Sal's part.

"There is room for error." She then answered. "I've seen it."

"Not of my aptitude."

"Not yet."

One counter met by another. Classic. He let out another light chuckle before humming to himself again.

Ah, if only she knew he simply wished to help! This was for more than his benefit. It truly was! To offer her the scarce safe haven to justly and freely be. Existing in this near-perpetual hiding of one's self for the sake of social standard and the safety of others grew tiresome, surely. In ways, he would know.

Motivated by the reminder, he now found himself particularly intent upon this pursuit today. His eyes narrowed, dignified, yet baleful in their determination. "I survived you once already..."

Once more, he then dared to close the distance between them, their questionable proximity resumed. Looming over her shoulder and her clothed tendrils, he peered into the mirror, regarding her likeness and empyrean beauty as she stared his own down with a... vehemency.

There was a chance they never would have met had he not stepped in. Perhaps she would have been consumed by the Ω that now swarmed and multiplied in the Abyss. Despite her concerns, his point was not lost on her.

Reminded once more of the matter, her gaze fell, the furrow of her brow growing more apparent. It was like a disease, spreading and taking hold of their world, now. What had disrupted that balance? Could it be fixed? Would they have to evacuate this entire planet one day, if not? What could she do right now?

"I speak not only of your kind, but you."

Doing her best to dismiss that particular branch of inner turmoil, she was brought back to the more immediate one. Her eyes returned to his reflection.

"I rescued you. Handled you. Cared for you."

Yet again, she contemplated him and his insistence as he spoke. The remains of the intensity of which she mulled over previous thoughts seemed to leave a stain, however...

It was in that moment that Kuja was reminded just how sharp, yet hypnotic her gaze was. There was starlight cradled within her eyes. He could swear by it. Little did she know, the silence which fell between them was due in part to those radiant irises stealing his words away.

"... Couldn't you trust me to do so again?" For but a moment, anyway. His voice fell to a softer note as he managed to recover. The smile which painted his lips was just as beguiling as it ever was. And the nebulous shades of anxiety she bestowed upon him at times such as these would be his secret to keep yet another day.

Whatever little studies and "science projects" he had stashed away certainly spoke of his experience, but it was not enough for her. She would always have her reservations. There was always a chance to be taken with these things. Which, it was a chance he was clearly willing to take time and time again, of course, but her...?

Talk stagnated yet again. Time inched forward at a slow...

"... If you experience any burning or numbness, no matter how little, stop."

Finally, What sounded uncannily like the beginnings of a warning label left her mouth. They still bore a rigid inflection, but...

"Regardless of your confidence. Regardless of how well informed you may be. Just stop and back away. I'll rebind it."

... She was ultimately granting him permission to proceed.

"Okay?"

Delightfully surprised she would actually indulge him for once, of course, he was more than willing to oblige!

"As you wish, mon étoile." The request was met by a rather deft reply.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This venture would be undergone merely to see what could be ventured, Sal supposed. Who knew what there truly was to gain from letting a wealthy fanatic inspect you more closely... maybe it would be more than just a spectacle of vulnerability or an oddly erogenous experience. Maybe she'd learn something? You never know.

Drawing in a deep breath in attempts to help settle some of the disquietude, she observed him as he began to carefully unfurl her ribbon-bound locks...

For those curious about the hair stuff MerSal has going on, I actually scribbled out a bit of a concept to help me write it...

It's scribbly. Design could definitely be improved upon later, but for now, I figured that'd do well enough! 🎨 For those who may be wondering "can she manipulate those tentacle-y hair bits, even when they're all wrapped up?" Yes. She absolutely can. The metal bit at the end wasn't intended to be a weapon, but I do think it'd be pretty badass if it was sharp enough to be one, now! 🗡️

[taoofshigeru]

What the Notes Didn't Say (Partitio Yellowil x Ori)

Partitio and Ori spend time in a room at Papp's house. (1100 words)

Giga-turbo Octopath Traveler 2 endgame spoilers ahead!

-----

Ochette had been nice enough to delay her journey home from Toto'haha for another week when Partitio came to her with the request.

"I need yer help to track someone down. Last anybody saw of them was the apothecary's hut in Crackridge."

She'd also been nice enough not to ask too many questions. Even though she knew.

He'd also been lucky enough to catch Castti before she she boarded her ship back to the Eastern Continent. And a good thing. The hunch that the person he was looking for would need treatment proved to be right on the money.

Papp, thankfully, had been willing to let him and the apothecary in carrying a girl in a bloodied shirt and scrivener's cap without asking questions. His dad knew enough to trust him.

And that's where he had been for the past four days, by her bedside whenever Castti wasn't seeing to her treatment. "The desert climate can be especially harsh for those with wounds that severe. We're lucky Ochette found her when she did."

"But she's not dyin', is she?" Partitio chewed on a stick of cinnamon, a nervous habit he had picked up lately.

"I've done what I can, and the apothecary who treated the initial knife wound was skilled." Castti's expression was neutral. "It was a deep wound and a near-fatal amount of blood loss. If all goes well, she'll wake up and be fine. However, I do insist she be watched at all times. The commotion from the other day has settled down, but there's still no telling how she'll react to the situation when she wakes up. And stable condition doesn't mean she can just walk right out of here. She'll need to get plenty of bed rest."

"Thank ye, Castti." Partito scratched his chin, staring down at Ori's unconscious body on the bed. "I know yer best is the best there is. Nothin' left to do now but wait."

Castti was out shopping for herbs when her patient first showed signs of stirring.

…

Ori's eyelids began to flutter. Which was weird, since she was deceased. Why was the cold, nocturnal abyss of death so dazzlingly bright? And scorchingly, sizzlingly hot and tingly? The first thing she saw was a familiar face, a man in a wide-brimmed hat with a smile. That uniquely warm, special, one-of-a-kind smile that always seemed to buzz around in the back of her head like a mosquito with a drum set.

At least, it had before she had spilled her own blood to extinguish the sacred flame. She had been supposed to spill all of it. So why was it daytime. Unless…

"Ah… Partitio…?" This was bad. An atrocious, abominable turn of events!

Her attempts to leap backwards and out of bed were thwarted by the fact that every muscle below her neck didn't seem to want to do more than continue resting on the creaky box-spring mattress.

"Heheh, mornin' Ori." He clasped his hands together. "Gonna want to settle down, though. Castti says ya shouldn't be walkin' around for another week or three."

She blushed, not knowing how to respond. "Oh, gods, this is embarrassing. Am I going to have to write my own headline? 'Wayward Scrivener Waylaid in Desert'? Oh, no, that'll never sell. Maybe if-"

"-Whoa there, newsie." The smile went off his face. Which meant the honest merchant was about to hit on a less chipper topic. "Let's lay that actin' aside here." He pulled out a sheaf of papers from the pocket of his worn yellow overcoat. Even old and battle-worn as it was, it still looked drastically dashing on the dapper deal-maker. "Good to see yer still with us. You should know, I've read yer notes. Didn't try to, but they were lyin' all over the place and somebody had to put 'em back in order."

"Or no, shoot. That's a lie." He lifted up his hat and sheepishly scratched the back of his head. This man had access to a naturally adorable depth of charm, a level of which Ori's fake plucky scrivener persona had only scratched the surface of. "I wanted to know why."

"Partitio…" She had been afraid, terrified before. When watching her village be slaughtered before her eyes. When Harvey's arrogance had threatened their whole gods-damned plan. When the point of her knife had first pierced her own stomach. "You read… You read my notes?" This was different. And somehow substantially worse.

"Yeah. Thing is, they didn't tell me why. Not really." He stared her in the eye. Face close, intense. "You see, I have a talent for judgin' people. Seein' what they're all about. I feel like I know you. These notes tell me what you did. But they don't tell me why you tore 'em out of yer notebook, scattered in a trail on the way to that extinguished brazier. Osvald went through 'em right quick and they helped him put a lotta stuff together. Why would someone who spent years working for that and guardin' information tighter'n any lockbox give up the game like that?"

"They don't tell me why ya helped me out when I was tryin' to get that mall up and runnin'. And they sure as gods don't tell me what you're feeling now." His eyes were pure, shining beads. An ocean of sympathy she had no right to be swimming in. "Can I ask ya that?"

She was frozen. This was utterly, unconditionally unexpected. "I… I…" Her voice cracked. "I'm so scared." Why was she crying? She'd been in scuffles, had interviews that went way worse than this. What did she have to cry over?

"I see." He nodded slightly. "I don't understand what you did. I don't. But I want to know. But more'n any of that, I wanna forgive ya'. Now, ya lil' pen wizard, what is it you want?"

"I… sob" She was breaking. She had already perished, once, but now the walls inside her, walls she had built up for decades, walls her brother had taught her to keep perfectly maintained, were crumbling. She wanted, she really wanted, "I want to…live. I want to be alive, but… But I've done a terrible thing. So many horrible things so many people. Is, is it okay for me to want that?" It was wrong, she had to be wrong. And he was going to laugh at her. But she had about as much luck stopping as she would have had catching a greased octopuff with her bare hands. "I wanna LIVE! WhaaaAHHH!!" Bawling was something she could never recall doing before today. Odd.

"That's it. That's all right, now." And then he was putting his arms around her, lifting her up slightly. "So long as you wanna live, I'm in yer corner."

She cried, screamed it out in his arms until her throat was sore, until there were no more words. At some point, she fell back to sleep, and could dimly feel him lowering her back down onto the creaky old mattress. The last thing she felt before drifting off, exhausted but very much alive, was the grip of his palm on hers.

~End~

Part 2 here

[bmpmp3]

after six years of the game being out and after three and a half years of me actually playing the game i have finally beat botw. did u know finishing video games is. fun,,

[fullbattleregalia]

I BEAT THE FIRST CHAPTER!!!

Hot damn - final boss only took me six tries!

This game is so gorgeous.

And this image of Monkey just hanging out and watching that monk burn down his monastery made me laugh because this is exactly how it happened in JttW. (For once, Monkey did not cause any of the wanton destruction - just sat back and let it happen.)

And now on to Chapter Two!

[mimicteruyo]

Me: That’s one chapter done! ...but I have no memory of how the next chapter was supposed to begin so I’d better check my notes.

The planned chapter opening in the notes: *fucking sucks*

[mari-reads]

not to be dramatic but being a 24 yr old girl living through societal collapse is like totally unfair

[exopelagic]

DND IS SO FUCKING COOL