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somethingswift19 · 1 year ago

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Who? JJ Maybank x Tattooed (f) Reader

| Warnings: mentions of abuse, swearing, over protective JJ (mildly), alternative reader

| Summary: JJ noticed your medusa tattoo for the first time. All characters are in their 20s in this

| (a/n): I don't know how I feel about this ending. But I hope y'all enjoy!

You weren't like the others on Kildare Island. Technically you were a kook like Kie, but also like Kie you were a pouge through and through. Your dad was ex military and now worked for the local prison while your mom owned the only tattoo shop in the county. Due to this, your family tended to stand out which also meant you lacked in the friends department. That was until you met Kiara.

You and Kie had been inseparable since you met at the kook academy your freshman year. Neither of you wanted to be there but were forced by your mothers to attend. For her 16th birthday present, the two of you even got matching dolphin tattoos. Then when Sarah came along it became the three of you.

This led you to now. You were a 23 year old bartender at The Wreck, Kie's family restaurant, and the two of you had just gotten off shift. Running to the back you threw on your black "I <3 Hot Dads" hoodie, jean shorts, and red high top vans before throwing your messy, curly hair up into a bun. "Hey (y/n), are you ready?" your best friend yelled from the doorway.

"Yeah I'm coming!" grabbing your backpack, you followed her out. You had plans to meet the boys at the beach for a bonfire tonight after work. You had only met them a few times, and all of said times a certain blonde had caught your attention. Getting in the car you got settled but Kie didn't stop staring. "Can I help you?" you laughed.

"Oh no. Just wondering if you were gonna spend the whole night drooling over JJ again and not make a move like last time," she shrugged. Rolling your eyes you told her to just go.

Grabbing the beer out of the back, the two of you made your way towards the beach. "Hey girlies!" the familiar voice of Sarah Cameron rang out. "We were beginning to wonder when the two of you were showing up!"

"Blame the one who had to get ready before we came here," Kiara side eyed you before all three of you began to laugh.

"Listen! Is it a crime to want to look half way decent for my two besties other friends? I mean gotta make a good impression right?" you continued laughing.

"Yeah right. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that JJ is here tonight," Sarah teased you causing you to lightly hit her in the arm as the three of you headed down to the sand. After reaching the firepit you got settled onto the soft sand sitting crisscross applesauce. "Where's Pope?"

"He had homework for his fancy college program," the blonde boy you had been looking forward to seeing all night responded as he sat down next to you and handed you a beer. Nodding your head you took a swig out of the bottle you had been handed. The other three in the group were busy talking about something Sarah's brother did when JJ leaned over and broke the silence between the two of you. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look like anyone I've ever seen around here." You gave him a funny look before he quickly added, "Like it's a good thing! It's cute! Just very different!"

A blush formed on your freckled cheeks, "Thank you...I Think." He was right though. You had long curly black hair with tiny bits of green throughout, both sides of your nose pierced along with your septum, and both ears pierced all the way up. Not to mention the tattoos. Yet you still had a sweetness or "innocence" to you.

"You're welcome!" he smiled proudly to himself for causing the pink tinge. "Now tell me about your tattoos!"

"Well what do you wanna know?" You inquired. The two of you being so wrapped up in your own conversation to realize the other three had left you two alone.

"Well for starters, how many do you have?" genuine curiosity was shown on his face. You fascinated him. "I mean I can see you have your traditional patchwork leg done here, but do you have any more?"

"Well," you began. "I have my leg sleeve (of course), then I also have a full arm sleeve, and one down my side. And then a secret one that matches Sarah and Kie's." you smirked before beginning to giggle when he looked astonished.

"We are gonna circle back to the mystery tattoos later!" the blonde boy exclaimed. "But can I see your sleeve?" You nodded with a hint of reluctance only because of one tattoo. You took off your hoodie so you were only in your tank top. JJ began examining all of the colorful pieces you had but quickly stopped when he saw the medusa adorning your upper arm. His face went from curious and playful to stern. "Who?"

"It's really not important," fixated on the fire you really were hoping to not have this conversation yet. You were always cold but the hoodies also helped keep that hidden.

"You can talk to me," his blue eyes softened. He didn't want to push you but wanted to at least offer. "My dad...he used to beat the shit out of me. I used to blame myself. Would convince myself that I deserved it somehow. My fiends helped snap me out of that."

The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes before you brought yourself to open up, "It was my ex. He had a hard time taking no for an answer." JJ didn't say anything but just let you confide in him. "But before that, I went through something similar to you. My dad was an angry guy. I remember showing up to school with black eyes and having to have my friends cover for me. Then when I was 16, things got particularly bad. He slapped me so hard I fell down and he stormed out. Said 'He should have left me and my bitch of a mom a long time ago'...he came back the next morning in tears and never laid a hand on me since. So then when my ex did what he did, it just brought out suppressed memories."

JJ immediately brought you into a hug while wiping a tear off your cheek, "I am so sorry." You looked up into his beautiful baby blue eyes when the two of you leaned in. He kissed you so gently and tasted so sweet you thought you were in heaven. That was until he whispered onto your lips "So what are these secret tattoos the three of you girls share?" Laughing you buried your face into his chest.

"It's so embarrassing," you blushed as he started to chuckle right when the other three showed back up from what looked like swimming. "Oh! Just in time! (y/n) here was just about to enlighten me on these secret tattoos of yours!"

"Don't do it!" and "She was not!" were said in unison by other two.

"Come on guys we should tell them," you smiled and you all three agreed. "Ok, so just know the three of this did this to celebrate graduating high school. We were young and dumb."

"Oh this is gonna be good," John B mumbled.

"We all have a different fruit," Sarah continued.

"On each of our asses," Kiara finished. The two boys burst out laughing.

"Are you being for real?" John B asked. "I mean I knew about yours Sarah, but all three of you?" he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

JJ leaned over and whispered just to you, "I can't wait to see what yours is." Causing you to once again turn bright red. You knew you were in trouble with this boy when he just smirked down and kissed you again saying, "You're too damn cute when you blush like that."

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj outerbanks #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj obx imagine #obx fic #jj imagine #rafe cameron

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himbo-ford-pines · 7 months ago

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hehehehehehe evil thots illegal thots here have bad babysitter Stan

CW: drinking

——————

Stanley watched his brother run full speed around the house. He sighed. He should have never given into the boy’s pleas for ice cream. Their parents were going to be gone overnight and had tasked Stanley with watching the seven year old Stanford. He recalled his pa’s warning before they left the house: “He’d better be asleep by eight, and eat his entire dinner and-“ blah blah blah. Stanley knew what he was doing. Christ they worried so much.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a crash. He paled. “Sixer, I know you didn’t run into that fucking urn.” He stared hard at their grandmother’s ashes on the floor. “God… dammit. Okay.” He stood and grabbed the broom, muttering to himself. He was gonna get his ears boxed for this.

Stanford stepped back and rubbed his arm sheepishly. “Sorry Stanley, I was pretending to be a B-52 and-“

“Yeah, bud, I saw.” He sighed. “You need to calm down a little, you’re literally bouncin’ off the walls. In fact-“ he glanced up at the cat clock monotonously ticking away above the entrance to the kitchen. “I think it’s bedtime.” He considered ashes in the dustpan and grabbed a Tupperware, dumping them in while his brother whined at him.

“What?! That’s not fair, you get to stay up all night and watch tv!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m charge tonight, and Pa gave me specific instructions on what to do with you. I’m not getting my ass whooped because you wanna watch cartoons longer than normal. I’m already getting it because you spilled Grandma on the fuckin floor.” He wiped his hands off on his white shirt, grimacing at the dark smudges. Sorry Grandma.

Ford frowned. “But I’m not tired.”

Stanley frowned. Getting this kid in bed when he didn’t want to go was nearly impossible. Then he remembered his ma talking about giving them gin on her finger when they were babies to calm them down and put them to sleep. He wondered if beer would do the same. “Tell ya what, you can stay up with me, but you have to drink with me. You wanna be a man or whatever? Come on.” He grabbed a six pack he’d stolen from the local grocery store from the fridge and placed it on the coffee table imposingly. “Think you’re up for it?”

Stanford puffed out his chest in pride. “I can do it! I am a man!” He ran over to the couch and sat down, keeping his arms crossed.

Stanley threw some pajamas at him. “At least get cozy.”

Ford groaned and started taking off his clothes. Stanley found his eyes trailing over the boy’s soft body, coming to rest on the boy’s tighty whiteys. He shook his head when Stanford pulled his pj’s back on and flopped down onto the couch, cracking open a cold one with the boy. He grabbed the clicker and switched on the tv, flipping through channels until they hit some documentary and Sixer started yelling at his older brother to stop there so he could learn about jellyfish. Stanley groaned but figured the kid would only be up for a little longer so he obliged and settled back as he was lectured on the stages of jellyfish life, polyp stage, Medusa stage, blah blah blah. He sipped his beer boredly, and pulled the boy closer, offering him the bottle. “Here. You said you’d keep up with me.”

Stanford took it, a bit unsure of himself and sniffed it, recoiling a bit at the heavy fermented wheat smell. “You sure Pa won’t get mad?”

“Not if Pa doesn’t know. You gonna rat me out?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and quit worrying. Drink.” He opened another beer for himself and chugged half of it, letting out a loud long burp afterwards that sent Stanford into giggles.

“Gross Stanley!” He hit his arm and regarded the bottle before taking a tentative sip and almost spitting it out. Stanley covered his mouth.

“Swallow, Sixer.”

Ford swallowed with a shudder and let out a much smaller burp. Stanley grinned and nodded for him to keep going as the teen continued sipping his own beer. Stanford wasn’t going to back down from a challenge- he never did. So he drank. He finished the bottle about the same time that Stanley was half way through his second. He leaned back with a groan. His tummy hurt, but he didn’t feel drunk? At least, he didn’t think so?

“Hey kid, go grab those chips.” Stanley pointed to the bag of potato chips on the counter in the kitchen. “But finish this first.” He handed him the half full bottle of beer he had been working on. “Then we’ll be even.” He smirked, seeing the unsure look on Ford’s face. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Ford wrinkled his nose and tilted the bottle back, holding his breath to avoid tasting the sour liquid as it washed down his throat. He slammed the bottle down on the table, burped in his brother’s face, stood up determinedly, took one step towards the kitchen, and fell flat on his face with a groan.

Stanley burst out laughing and stood, stretching. “That was so easy. Alright, bed-“ his inebriated brain focused in on the lining of Ford’s underwear peeking out from his pajama pants. His cock jumped in his own sweats. He looked at the clock. He still had hours before their parents were home… and he and Ford had played before. It’s not like he hadn’t gotten a yes any other time he’d asked, why would this time be different. He picked the drunk kid up and tossed him on the couch.

Stanford grunted and blinked up at him. “Dizzy…”

“Shh.” He pulled the boy’s pants and underwear off, silent, and let Ford’s legs fall back onto the couch as he stared at the boy’s soft cock. He just… he needed this. He reached for another beer and took a drink of it before pushing it to his brother’s lips, making him take a drink despite Ford shaking his head. Stanley pushed Sixer back down onto the couch and pulled his cock out, stroking himself with a small groan before going down, taking Stanford’s entire package into his mouth and moving his tongue around, playing with his tiny cock and his fucking grape sized excuse for a sack. Ford let out a lewd noise, tangling small hands in his brother’s hair. “S-Stanleyyyy~” he crooned before his mouth fell open. He stared at the ceiling fan for what felt like a very long time as he focus’s on his brother’s warm mouth on his privates. He gasped- he was about to finish in his brother’s mouth when Stanley pulled off with a shimmery line of pre connecting his lips to Ford’s cock. He grabbed his brother’s legs and lifted them before spitting right onto his ass and shoving two finger into him. Ford yelped at the sudden penetration, wiggling clumsily in Stanley’s grasp but Stan had a big advantage on him in size and sobriety. “Easy buddy, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, not really anyway. You get fingered and put to bed, that’s it.”

Ford let out an unintelligible whimpering slur of words at him that Stanley ignored as he felt around for Ford’s sweet spot. He found it quickly- he knew his way around- and didn’t let up on it, touching and feeling the boy’s prostate until Stanford came all over his own legs, blubbering and gasping. Stanley pulled his fingers out slowly and wiped them on the couch as he watched Ford catch his breath. “Are you ready for bed yet Sixer?”

Ford just closed his eyes and Stanley sighed in relief, curling around him in an apartment that was finally quiet.

#sheep bleats #proship #antis dni #stancest #age difference #my writing

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senkinny · 2 months ago

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MINE ADAM - Fanfiction Snippet, Ch1

"MINE ADAM" -- "Frankenstein" canon-AU fanfiction written by Senkinny/Rara - Snippet of CHAPTER 1 - TsukaSen - TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW (Mainly Death + Grief)

I wanted to share my literary journey with those who will have me, as I write a story inspired by the taboo of resurrection and reanimation--a story I can channel my own grief into and hope maybe someone will enjoy or resonate with it! (Though familiar in my case as opposed to the romantic undertones of this fanfic.)

When Senku was able to lift himself he had hoped when he stood, his eyes would deceive the image of Tsukasa’s lifeless face to reunite with golden gaze. But his mind was running out of hypotheses, no matter how many scenarios he played in his head and how many potential solutions to the problem never solved by a single human soul–

It all came back down to one single convention.

Tsukasa was gone.

[CHARACTERS: Senku; Tsukasa (Deceased); Ruri (Mentioned); Luna. TsukaSen Ship Undertones] [TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death, Graphic Depiction of Death and Near-Death (Algor Mortis, Hypothermia from Cryopreservation) Grief, Nausea and Vomiting]

You know, this has happened before. The Primate Warrior, Tsukasa Shishio–he’s almost invincible.

Death has knocked on his door not once but thrice. Being cryopreserved, petrified by The Medusa Device several times. He couldn’t die–he couldn’t be killed.

But at the tail end of the Winter of 5729 PA, The Perseus that sailed back to Japan from their Northeastern European expedition radioed The Kingdom of Science’s own Team Senku days before docking. The grim news that Tsukasa had succumbed to his illness and passed away. The diagnosis was pneumonia… A cough and fever before their voyage, rendering Tsukasa unable to bear the travel back and forth to the tundras of their destination, and contagious to the crew. Pneumonia. The same illness the young Chieftess Ruri of Ishigami VIllage braved and endured, and with Senku’s medicinal knowledge triumphed over with antibiotics. The dearest Ruri was met with victory–Why couldn’t Tsukasa have…?

The young scientist leading the expedition couldn’t believe his ears. The signal was strong, and Ruri’s words clear despite her sobs and sniffles. Tsukasa couldn’t have been gone. Where did our medicine go wrong…? It had been a brutal winter in Japan, and the approaching spring-time proved to fluctuate its warm breezes and icy clouds. Pneumonia had spread, disease had spread… But while rampant, the residents of Ishigami Village and surrounding areas were as diligent as ever in prevention and treatment, their resources well stocked and medical teams prepared thanks to Miss Luna Wright–the American medical student from the California coast nearly eight years ago. It was a nasty combination–a disease viral and bacterial alike, but with rest and the miracles of penicillin those affected were at least treated and had their fighting chance.

So how did Tsukasa lose?

He couldn’t have been dead. It wasn’t fair. Senku had played this song and dance before–when Hyoga was their enemy and fatally wounded Tsukasa in battle, the critical thinking of the Ishigami Chief worked quickly to the solution to save his life. Cryopreservation sanctified Senku’s endeavors to revive him, and in time with The Medusa Device and an abundance of nitric acid, it was almost as if Tsukasa had been reborn. And when the world was yet again in dire need, it was Suika’s seven-year long journey in reviving everyone affected by The Why-Man’s frustrations that would remind all that Tsukasa Shishio lived true to his title.

Tsukasa was a renowned guardian of The Kingdom of Science. A gentle soul, a dear friend. It didn’t feel right not seeing him in the crowd that would greet the scientist and his team upon their return. “Tsukasa is gone…” loops its broadcast in Senku’s distressed thoughts–his crimson eyes still scouring for the chestnut braids and lion’s mantle that used to tower over everyone else. Golden eyes that would always meet his own. Straining as his eyes stung, through the pit in his stomach, to find that familiar, immortal smile… All of Ishigami VIllage made for a warm welcome from their travels, but every passing face bore pain for their Chief’s concerned shuffle through them–making no hesitation to the infirmary… The infirmary? Of course Tsukasa would be there. He didn’t belong in the morgue.

But he wasn’t in the infirmary.

“Luna… Please, where is he?”

The pale-haired medic couldn’t bear to repeat herself any more, and her tears streamed down her cheeks. Her voice cracked in a broken stream of apologies, as she felt the guilt of Tsukasa’s departure her own. “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry, Senku…” Senku hated every word if it. It’s not Luna’s fault, it’s not anyone’s fault–

“Stop beating yourself up,” Senku’s own voice rasped, a harsher tone than his chest had meant to project. He reached for her hand gently, and swallowed hard in his new request. “Please… I didn’t mean to make you feel like it was your fault–I’m the one who’s sorry.” The two shared the moment exchanging their condolences and leading Senku to the final confirmation of Senku’s dread. He hadn’t realized how tightly he gripped Luna’s hand as they made their venture… She couldn’t bring herself to remark, enduring the firm hold until it was released as soon as the two stood in front of the mortuary chambers. It felt so cold in the room, and yet it was as if he was burning alive.

He’d seen this before. Senku had seen this exact scene before–but it wasn’t the same. He expected to see a war-wrangled guerilla covered in wounds barely healed–He expected frost-bite or the dark and blue patches of the hypothermia process, knowing the Medusa devices would heal all evidence… This wasn’t the same. The entire scheme was different, and it took a hard swallow and heave to not relieve the dizzying nausea as Senku steadied himself at the display. Through every near-death experience he and his comrades triumphed over, Senku found fortune in that he never had to see life departed from someone before–certainly not in person, being reminded of the images and photos of forensic content on the internet long before the Petrification era. He never had to see… This now-memory of a flaxen hue and the dark undertones he knew the indications for. Senku bated his breath in hopes he would see the chest rise and fall, hear any sign of breath…

Tsukasa was gone.

He wouldn’t open his eyes. His face had sunken in, and the remnants of pre-mortem damage to his body reflected the condition he was truly in before demise… What damage? Tsukasa was strong and healthy as an ox before his illness, wasn’t he? Why was he so thin? The dips and lines of his now frozen frame were concave, all but where lumps of solidified blood settled into the bottom of the skin… An eerie cluster of green and purple underneath his now yellowed skin… It was the harrowing reality that Tsukasa had truly left this world before the vessel left behind was transported to its morgue cell. It wasn’t fair. How could Tsukasa have been killed this way? Logic had almost left one of the most intellectual, most critical person in the entire new world–Senku’s mind raced at the possibilities of how this came to be, as a trembling hand reached cautiously–yet almost eagerly–for the curve of the deceased’s jaundiced face.

Senku’s breath hitched at the touch. And it was no second later that the morbidity forced his stomach to churn and empty as he collapsed onto his knee by the casket table, retching as it splattered on the concrete floor. It was too much–Luna could only yelp her concern as Senku was sickened–and in this distress after the worst of his own symptoms, it was a dear comfort through the agony when the pale-haired woman brushed her slender fingers over his shivering frame… It wasn’t fucking fair, damn it. And when he was able to lift himself he had hoped when he stood, his eyes would deceive the image of Tsukasa’s lifeless face to reunite with golden gaze. But his mind was running out of hypotheses, no matter how many scenarios he played in his head and how many potential solutions to the problem never solved by a single human soul–

It all came back down to one single convention.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE] A snippet of the first chapter of the first fanfiction I have written since the age of dinosaurs. Humor aside, this story is inspired by my love and intrigue of promethean themes such as Frankenstein–through more of an Asclepian/Ophiucan approach. A piece that is immeasurably personal to me as I channel my own grief, I hope it is as entertaining to you as it is healing for the both of us. Thank you for letting me share one of my literary journeys with you with my whole heart! Oh–there will be illustrations for each chapter upon their completion, so please look forward to my artwork as well as my writing?

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sag-dab-sar · 6 months ago

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Day 4 of Hellenic Polytheism

Are there any deities you don’t currently worship but want to learn about? by @wisdom-devotee

I have realized I know basically nothing about Poseidon. I don't have any inclination to worship him but I was shocked with how little I knew. I had no clue how connected to horses he was or how "old" he possibly is, nor his connections to Desponia or Peloponenese. [Disclaimer: I have not read all the sources]

Met Museum:

Poseidon, Herakles, and Hermes fishing. The immortals of Mount Olympos were not exclusively engaged in momentous feats. Here three of them are shown fishing, each perched on a rock. Poseidon holds his catch in one hand, his trident in the other; Herakles tries his luck with a rod; and Hermes gesticulates at the right." Terracotta lekythos (oil flask) ca. 515 BCE Greek, Attic. Met Museum — Link

Encyclopedia of Ancient History: Poseidon by Ioannis Mylonopoulos — Link

Theoi Project Poseidon — Link

Boeotian Black Figure. Bowl, Three-Handled. ca 5th Century BCE. The Gorgon Medusa lies dead, beheaded by the hero Perseus. On the left, the god Poseidon strides forward with a trident in one hand and a dolphin at his feet. One of the Gorgons rushes towards him with arms outstretched. She is crowned with a pair of serpents and wears two snakes tied as a girdle about the waist. Behind her, Medusa lies dead with blood squirting from the severed stump of her neck. The winged, horse Pegasus flies just above her, born in the gout of blood. — Link

The Indo-European Attribute of Poseidon as the Water God by Nobuo Komita — Link (Link to Google Scholar and PDF is a download)

Abstract: Generally Poseidon is regarded as the Greek sea god; however, besides his maritime attribute, he seems to have closely associated with fresh water. As the myth of Amymone indicates, Poseidon produced springs which formed the Lerna River; in addition, Amymone is concerned with water as the river and springs of her name imply. And as the myth of the Alban Lake suggests, Neptunus, the Roman equivalent of Poseidon, is also closely associated with fresh water. The etymology of Neptunus is interpreted as 'Nephew of Water'. The etymology of Poseidon also indicates that Poseidon seems to be concerned with warer; the *da-component of Poseidon is explained as proto-1-E 'fowing water'. In eastern and central Europe, major river names such as the Don, the Dnieper, the Doniester, and the Donau have the * da- component. These features imply that the etymology of Poseidon can be interpreted as 'Husband of Waters' indicating Poseidon as a fertility god, and similarly his seismic attribute is related with water (earth water'). The Indo-European sky god Zeus is also associated with water sending the rain to fertilize the earth, which indicates that Zeus and Poseidon share the same role as a fertility spirit. Originally Poseidon was the Indo-European water god associated with fertility, and Poseidon seems to have acquired his maritime aspect in Greece. However, his etymology and various features concerning water designate that Poseidon firmly retained his original Indo-European attribute. (sorry if this is wonky copy/paste was weird)

Pu-ro, pa-ki-ja-na/-ne, and the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Pylos By Barbara Montecchi — Link

From Article: the hypothesis is put forward that the temple of Poseidon (po-si-da-i-jo), which is linked to both pu-ro and pa-ki-ja-ne (PY Tn 316), should be identified with the central megaron of the Palace, the religious role of which is well known. Poseidon indeed appears as the most prominent god of the Pylos kingdom

Continuity From the Mycenaean Period in a Historical Boeotiam Cult of Poseidon (And Erinys) by Thomas Palaima — Link

From Article: ...in the full range of Mycenaean culture and its place within the Hellenic tradition, past and present. He has also been interested in detailing the archaeological evidence for what leading researchers call 'the horse of Poseidon', i.e., the terrible earthquake damage that might have contributed to the demise of Mycenaean palatial culture. I offer this exploration into continuity of an unusual cult of Poseidon in Boeotia from the Bronze Age into the classical period

Mythical and ritual landscapes of Poseidon Hippios in Arcadia by Julie Baleriaux — Link

Abstract: Poseidon has recently benefited from renewed scholarly attention, contributing to re-evaluate his role in ancient Greek imaginary. By opening the research previously limited to literary evidence to the archaeological and topographical evidence, new perspectives on “Poseidonian landscapes” have emerged. Arcadia, a land-locked region where Poseidon Hippios is celebrated with fervour, is here taken as a case study to try and go further in identifying the god’s realm of action. Areas with floods seem to be his preferred worship places, while in other areas he plays a crucial part in myths but is hardly worshipped alone. There also seems to be a connection between his patronage over freshwater and horses. Overall, natural observation seems to have been instrumental in choosing the location of his worship places.

From Polis to Borders: Demarcation of Social and Ritual Space in the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Kalaureia, Greece by Pakkanen Petra — Link

Abstract: This article focuses on three interrelated themes in the study of ancient Greek religion, looked at through the material evidence from the sanctuary of Poseidon at Kalaureia on the island of Poros, Greece. First, I look at the so-called polis model and its applicability to an interpretation of Kalaureian material related to the cultic life of the sanctuary from the point of view of the 'historiography' of Greek religion. I then discuss the historical context of the archaeological material, with particular emphasis on the topic of the sanctuary as a known place of asylum particularly during the Hellenistic period. Thirdly, I examine the archaeological material related to eating and dining and its potential connection to the demarcation between sacred and profane activities and between sacralised and profane space in the sanctuary, with special interpretative attention to the significance of border(s) and boundaries. Drawing attention to these issues may help us understand the dynamics and interplay between 'official' and 'private' aspects of ancient Greek religion, within both the tradition of the scholarship of ancient Greek religion and the so-called 'archaeology of cult'.

Further Insights on the Cult of Poseidon Helikonios in Helike (IV)* by Dora Katsonopoulou — Link , PDF

From Article:

The cult statue in Poseidon's temple probably showed the god seated, holding trident in one hand and dolphin (fish) in the other. This type of Poseidon enthroned is represented on coinage of a number of cities associated with his worship (Fig. 3a-c); more interestingly, a similar depiction of the god, even identified as Helikonios, is preserved on early 3rd century BC coins from Sinope, where he was strongly worshipped. On the reverse of these coins, Poseidon is shown seated on throne to left, holding dolphin in his right hand and leaning with his left hand on trident; on the countermark of the coin illustrated, a diademed radiant head of a god (Zeus or Poseidon) to the left is depicted (Fig. 3d).

Reflections on the gems depicting the contest of Athena and Poseidon by Hadrien Rambach — Link

From Article:

This article examines the depiction on engraved gems - with essential detours to marble sculpture and numismatics - of the "dispute of Athena and Poseidon", or rather the presentation of the gifts, with the gods facing each other. The most famous is a cameo in Naples (plate 1), [...] engraved gems, this large cameo measures over 50mm in height. Believed to date from the late 1st century BCE. [...] Part of the attraction - and mystery - of the cameo is the unexplained series of engravings in the exergue: two palm trees, two shells, two wheels (?), the IY monogram, and another, unidentified object (plate 2)

The Sanctuary of Poseidon at Onchestos from Onchestos Excavation Project — Link

From website: Sanctuary of Poseidon at Onchestos has left its mark in the literary works of the ancient Greek civilization as a longstanding religious and political hub in Boeotia. From the 1960s on, sporadic archaeological investigations at the site provided tantalizing glimpses at the extent of the sanctuary and its influence over the region.

Site A of Sanctuary

Louvre Museum:

Fragment. Poseidon (remains, standing, headband, chiton, himation, holding, trident); framing net. Late Corinthian 6th Century BCE ca. 550-525 BCE . — Link

Paywalled: Poseidon's Festival at the Winter Solstice by Noel Robertson — Link

#polytheism #paganism #helpol #hellenic polytheism #poseidon #poseidon deity #ofthetheoi #31 days of helpol #large resource #Out of all the Greek Gods I've researched he is significantly more difficult than the others for academic/reputable sources #feel free to add #had to private and unpriavte this because it posed before i finished #y'all the amount of tabs my browserS have open right now

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transparentgentlemenmarker · 1 month ago

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Afin de ne pas être la prochaine victime des tentatives d'hameçonnage de "Medusa", nous vous recommandons impérativement de ne pas cliquer sur le moindre lien suspect, même si votre destinataire vous semble sûr. Le FBI et la CISA conseillent les utilisateurs de Gmail et d'Outlook de changer de mot de passe pour les remplacer par d'autres plus longs et difficiles à déchiffrer. 5 mai 2025

#medusa #outlook #gmail #office

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sillymickel · 9 months ago

Video

youtube

The Cause of, and Solution to, Human Evil … the Prenatal Matrices of Evil.

Get your free copy of “Psychology of Apocalypse”

https://sillymickel.blogspot.com/2024/08/free-PA-book.html

Michael Adzema's thought-provoking book, "Psychology of Apocalypse: Ecopsychology, Activism, and the Prenatal Roots of Humanicide," reveals how prenatal experiences shape human behavior, influencing perceptions, behaviors, and sociocultural dynamics significantly.

Prenatal imprints of discomfort manifest in personal interactions, leading to misogyny, bigotry, violence, and political divisions. Uncomfortable late-stage womb experiences imprint lasting effects, contributing as well, to pressing societal issues like culture war, fascism, pollution, and wars between nations, while also influencing cultural behaviors like racism and intolerance.

The author argues that human nature is significantly influenced by the discomfort and pain experienced in the womb, giving rise to emotions of claustrophobia, entrapment, and deprivation. He categorizes these prenatal feeling complexes into four main types - crowded, suffocated, disgusted, and irritated - which play a pivotal role in shaping human nature and actions.

These early imprints shape human behavior, societal structures, environmental attitudes, and interpersonal relationships, ultimately contributing to societal issues like violence, bigotry, and pollution.

The book delves into the profound concept that prenatal suffering serves as the foundational cause of human evil, itself, manifesting in behaviors such as greed, war, torture, and pollution

On the upside, Adzema's work reveals the author's activist experience, calling out the profound impact of activism, and he issues an urgent and personal appeal to avert potential global devastation due to environmental threats.

Perinatal dynamics, arising particularly among Baby Boomers, positively influenced movements against war, pollution, and overpopulation. The contrasting generational responses to perinatal pain, the importance of resolving unconscious conflicts, and the impact of early experiences on beliefs and actions are highlighted. Therapeutic strategies like primal therapy and holotropic breathwork are explored to address birth traumas and societal aggression.

Furthermore, the book explores the symbolic representations of enclosed spaces as reflections of the womb, emphasizing how early traumas significantly influence our perceptions and decision-making processes.

It delves into ancient mythology, contrasting figures like Athena and Medusa to illustrate patriarchal norms and societal expectations imposed on women. It explores the concept of facing evil with nonviolence and humor, the perinatal themes in popular culture, and the necessity of surrendering to higher forces. The importance of integrating the Divine Feminine for spiritual growth and societal change is discussed, along with the emergence of a primal renaissance offering hope for a more cooperative future.

Get your free copy for a deep understanding of what is going on and what you, and we together, can do about it.

Not only to survive, but to become the evolved humans the Earth and its planetmates require of us in this moment.

Click this link if you want more information on the book and/or you want to see the other ways the book can be acquired for free, as well as purchased:

https://sillymickelsapocalypticwakeupcall.wordpress.com/2024/08/29/free-pa-book/

Click the link below if you want to go directly to Amazon and get it, while it happens to be free, or any other time.

https://www.amazon.com/Psychology-Apocalypse-Return-Grace-Book-ebook/dp/B07FV5WP4Y/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=michael+adzema&qid=1585843665&s=books&sr=1-2

Between August 26th and 30th and December 2nd thru 6th, click link, above, for free kindle copy.

At Amazon, on the right side, see Kindle Price $0.00,

click “Buy now…” It’s yours.

Enjoy with my compliments.

https://youtu.be/oX5dfWz0wXw

#youtube

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jsabtdfandtsoec · 1 year ago

Note

Which Project Arrhythmia boss is your favorite? :) (Totally not asking because I'm drawing a lot of PA bosses)

Hmmmmm, I don't have a lot, probably.

Black heart:

Jester

Nautilus

Aura

Solario

Mist

Anddd Medusa.

Lost evil:

Basically all of the bosses

Dark delirium:

Delirium

Oddball

Hysteria

Lumiere

Rhythmic World:

Pandex

Meotix

Crystal

PandeX(not to be confused with pandex, this is the evil within pandex)

Another world:

Dark hal

Sun

Gyntening.

I can't list more cause I got homework to do.

#im bored #lol #asks #send me asks #pa #project arrthymia

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sh0esuke · 2 years ago

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" I Won't Survive This "

𝗠𝗲𝘁 𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗰𝗲̀𝗻𝗲 : Gojo Satoru

𝗥𝗲́𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗲́ : Après dix-neuf jours écoulés, Gojo Satoru est enfin de retour. Cela n'attise pas seulement la joie de ses amis, mais aussi la colère de ses proches.

𝗔𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 : rien de bien méchant outre du spoil

ENG : PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS. If you want to translate it, ask me first then we can talk about it. If you want to find me on Wattpad or AO3, my accounts are in my bio, these are the ONLY ONES i have. FR : MERCI DE NE PAS VOLER MES OS. Si vous avez envie de les traduire, merci de me demander la permission avant. Si vous voulez me retrouver sur Wattpad ou AO3, j'ai des liens dans ma bio, ce sont mes SEULS comptes.

𝙽𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚜 : 𝟑,𝟓𝐤.

Commentaires, likes et reblogues super appréciés. Tout type de soutien l'est, merci beaucoup !! <33

Gojo Satoru, l'enfant prodige, était à présent le tout dernier espoir qu'avait dans le fond de sa manche l'humanité toute entière. Voilà deux jours qu'il avait été libéré de la Lisière du Supplice. Voilà deux jours qu'il avait déclaré la guerre à Kenjaku et au Roi des fléaux, Ryomen Sukuna. Le détenteur du Sixième Œil n'avait eu, depuis, pas un seul instant de répit, ça avait été une succession de mauvaises nouvelles, des épisodes dépressifs à en perdre la tête, et une pression toujours plus insupportable qui s'installait sur ses épaules. Et, malheureusement pour lui, ça n'était que le début.

« Shoko ! »

Une jeune femme avait fait son entrée dans le bâtiment, mains nues. Entre son bras et avant-bras, reposait un joli sac de cuir noir. La brune fit volte-face en direction de la nouvelle arrivée, elle extirpa la cigarette coincée entre ses lèvres et arqua un sourcil, Shoko la dévisagea longuement, ignorant même la présence de MeiMei à ses côtés.

« Ça alors, quelle surprise, je me demandais quand est-ce que tu allais enfin arriver. »

La médecin légiste serra sa cigarette entre son index et majeur, elle descendit en un clin d'œil les nombreuses marches de l'escalier afin de rejoindre la jeune femme.

« Tien donc... » murmura MeiMei, finement amusée.

« J'ai fait le déplacement pour me pointer jusqu'ici, c'est pas pour que tu me dises qu'il s'est barré. »

Shoko secoua la tête.

« Il est en haut. » répondit-elle.

Elle zieuta son dos un instant.

« Il est pas avec toi, le petit monstre ? »

La demoiselle roula des yeux. Elle aurait pourtant juré qu'il s'était accroché à sa main lorsqu'elle avait fait son entrée. Il avait bel et bien disparu. Elle ne le sentait ni dans sa main, ni contre sa jambe.

« Qu'est-ce que j'en sais ? » elle maugréa. « Il est comme son père, j'y peux rien. »

Shoko sourit.

« Si je le vois je te le ramènerai. »

« Merci, t'es un amour. Il doit pas être loin. »

La jeune femme laissa son petit sac tomber dans le creux de sa main pendant qu'elle s'approchait de l'immense escalier. De ses escarpins à plateforme Medusa Versace, elle dépassait Meimei ᅳd'ailleurs sans même la regarder, elle était bien trop occupée à dévisager le chemin dressé droit devant elle, furieusement pressée. Le bâtiment ne lui était pas spécialement familier, elle avait un peu de mal à se repérer. Mais la présence spirituelle de Gojo se faisait forte sur la gauche, ainsi, elle s'y dirigeait.

Et elle ne tarda pas à le retrouver.

« Espèce de sale enflure. »

La porte coulissante claqua derrière elle. L'enfant prodige bondit du canapé sur lequel il était assis, faisant immédiatement réagir la personne assise devant lui. Un répugnant homme dont les cheveux plaqués sur son crâne leur donnait un effet gras et une paire de lunettes sur son nez ridiculement carrée et épaisse.

Gojo fronça les sourcils.

« Ijichi, tu ferais mieux de nous laisser. »

Le blanchâtre se gratta ensuite la nuque. Il regarda son assistant et ami s'en aller, la queue entre les jambes, pendant que la jeune demoiselle qui avait fait son entrée, elle, avait croisé ses bras contre sa poitrine et avait commencé à le foudroyer du regard.

« Tu bouges, je te tue. »

Une fois la porte coulissante refermée ᅳne laissant que Satoru et la jeune femme dedans, le détenteur du Pouvoir de l'Infini reposa son regard sur sa bien-aimée. Gojo n'eut aucune difficulté à remarquer ses yeux rouges ᅳmalgré la couche de maquillage qui les entouraitᅳ et son nez irrité par lequel elle ne cessait de renifler. Néanmoins, elle était splendide. Gojo faisait presque tache à côté d'une femme aussi élégante et resplendissante. Elle portait à merveille son tailleur noir en satin, dont le bas de son pantalon pattes d'éléphant, fondait sur le sol en ventouses. Sa petite veste épousait à merveille ses courbes, son décolleté était révélé sous la forme d'un V plongeant et, au niveau de sa taille, un épais bout de tissu noir agissait en guise de ceinture. Gojo la trouva belle, à couper le souffle, comme tout ceux qui avaient croisé son chemin depuis ce matin. Il fut cependant le premier à remarquer l'éclat de tristesse dans son regard.

Car, après tout, il n'était pas son mari pour rien.

« Dix-neuf jours, Satoru. Tu te fous de moi ? »

La jeune femme envoya valser son sac à main au sol, elle marcha à vive allure dans sa direction, faisant voler les bords de son pantalon, ce qui dévoila ses splendides escarpins à plateforme Medusa Versace et ne s'arrêta qu'une fois nez à nez avec l'enfant prodige. Leur proximité aurait dû lui faire effet, car Gojo, lui, sentait son cœur battre à la folie, cependant, elle était tellement révoltée, qu'elle fut incapable de perdre du temps à flirter.

« Regarde moi bien, espèce de sale fouteur de merde. »

Violemment, elle se saisit de sa mâchoire.

« Tu me le paieras. »

Satoru sourit.

« Heureux de te revoir, moi aussi, chérie. »

« Parce que tu crois que je suis ravie, là ? »

Grimaçant sous l'emprise qu'elle avait, Gojo eut l'audace d'hocher la tête.

« Imagine ma réaction quand j'ai appris que le cadavre de Suguru t'avait emprisonné dans la Lisière du Supplice. Imagine la réaction de ton fils quand j'ai dû lui dire que tu étais présumé mort ! »

Ses yeux palpitèrent de colère.

« Désolé, jeᅳ »

« 'Désolé' ? 'Désolé' ?! C'est tout ce que tu as à me dire ?! »

Gojo soupira. Il se mordit l'intérieur de la joue et fit une maigre tentative en passant son bras autour des hanches de la jeune femme, il guetta avec attention sa réaction, de peur de la faire péter une énième durite.

« Ils t'ont prévenu, au moins ? » demanda-t-il, avec inquiétude.

Sa femme souffla.

« C'est Shoko qui m'a envoyé un message. Elle m'a expliqué que ça c'était mal passé à Shibuya, apparemment personne ne voulait m'en parler. »

Gojo esquissa un sourire.

« Je me demande bien pourquoi... »

« Ferme-la, enflure. » le coupa-t-elle. « J'ai cru que j'allais mourir... Comment tu as pu te laisser faire comme ça ? Et Suguru, alors, je le pensais mort ! »

L'enfant prodige grimaça au nom de son ami d'enfance.

Gojo aurait bien aimé avoir une explication à donner, une explication qui aurait autant fait sens que du bien, malheureusement pour lui, ça n'était pas le cas. Il ne voulait pas faire empirer la situation. Kenjaku s'était emparé du cadavre de son meilleur ami, après qu'on lui ait refusé celui d'une jeune et fraîche demoiselle, c'était aussi simple que ça. Mais comment l'annoncer à sa femme ? Elle qui avait le cœur sur la main ne le supporterait pas. Suguru avait été proche d'elle durant son adolescence, il lui avait même été d'une grande aide le jour où elle s'était décidée à demander ᅳforcerᅳ Gojo à sortir avec elle. Depuis ce jour, elle était tombée en adoration pour lui.

Gojo se voyait mal dire la vérité.

Alors, il s'en alla choisir la facilité.

Il mentit.

Il mentit à sa femme, les yeux dans les yeux.

« Je le pensais aussi... »

Gojo apporta sa seconde main au poignet de son épouse, il la força ainsi à retirer sa main de son visage.

« Ne te tracasse pas avec ça, ce sera bientôt terminé. »

« Pourquoi, parce que tu vas te battre contre lui ? Je te l'interdis. »

L'enfant prodige arqua un sourcil.

« Regarde moi bien, Satoru, je ne te le dirais pas une seconde fois : je t'interdis de te battre contre Suguru et Megumi. »

L'expression surprise qui s'installait sur les traits de l'exorciste n'était rien comparé à celle vilaine sur celle de la jeune femme. Si le regard avait pu tuer, Gojo aurait déjà quitté ce monde depuis longtemps. Malgré ses prières, il sut qu'elle ne plaisantait pas.

« Qu'est-ce que tu racontes ? »

« C'est plutôt à moi de dire ça. Qu'est-ce que toi tu fiches, hein ?! »

Elle se détacha de lui et frappa son pectoraux de la pointe de son ongle acrylique. L'extrémité manqua de le poignarder, Gojo en grogna.

« Tu vas vraiment tuer une seconde fois ton meilleur ami, et exécuter ton fils ? La bonne blague ! »

Son visage se durcit.

« Tu as une autre solution ? »

« C'est pas à moi de gérer ça. Tu te démerdes pour les sauver, c'est tout. » articula-t-elle avec fermeté. « Satoru, je te préviens : plus personne ne mourra. Je ne te le pardonnerais jamais sinon. »

Gojo déglutit.

Elle avait beau hausser le ton et lui planter des dagues de ses yeux, il ne put s'empêcher de la trouver charmante. Le ton mielleux de sa voix, sa peau si douce, ses lèvres pulpeuses et brillantes, ses jolis cils couverts de mascaras et sa philosophie de vie, son grand cœur. Gojo en sentit son cerveau exploser, il s'éparpilla en mille morceaux dans son crâne, à présent incapable de l'aider à se décider entre amour et raison. Le simple fait de la voir battre des cils suffit à le convaincre. Gojo se sentit impuissant.

« Satoru, chéri. »

La demoiselle déposa sa main libre sur sa joue.

« Je t'en prie, ne fais pas de notre enfant le fils d'un meurtrier. Je ne le supporterais pas. »

« C'est pas comme si jamais le choix, ma belle. » marmonna-t-il pourtant. « Si je fais rien, Sukuna tuera tous les humains. Il ramènera l'espèce humaine à son époque, ils ne seront que du bétail. Je veux ce qu'il y a de mieux pour vous. Pour vous tous. »

« Et Megumi, alors ? »

Gojo glissa sa propre main libre sur sa joue. Mari et femme se caressèrent, une main sur la joue de l'autre et la seconde emprisonnée dans un nœud de doigts. Gojo refusa de la lâcher. Elle lui faisait mal au cœur, elle faisait revivre des conversations qu'il n'avait cessé d'avoir dans son esprit depuis son entrevue avec Sukuna. Mais elle était la voix de sa raison. Et peu importe qu'elle lui dise des choses déplaisantes, tant qu'il avait l'opportunité d'admirer ses beaux yeux, d'entendre sa voix de velours, il était le plus heureux des hommes. Il n'avait pas besoin de plus. Alors Gojo l'écouta avec grande concentration. Il lui dédia toute son attention, ignorant délibérément les choses et présences qui vagabondaient autour d'eux deux.

« Je sais pas. » avoua-t-il.

« Satoru, tu ne peux pas le tuer. »

La jeune femme inspira difficilement. Sa respiration tremblait.

« Ce n'est qu'un enfant.. Il n'a que quinze ans. »

Le détenteur du Sixième Œil pesta silencieusement.

« Tu penses que je le sais pas ? »

« Non, désolée, autant pour moi, c'est plutôt ta décision de vouloir l'exécuter qui me le laisse croire. » ironisa-t-elle.

« Je trouverai quelque chose. »

L'aveu de Gojo la prit de court.

« J'essaierai, je trouverai une solution pour le sauver. » il jura.

« Tu es sûr ? »

Elle roula des yeux en le voyant bomber le torse.

« Évidement. » sourit-il. « Je trouverai bien un truc, je l'expulserai de force, j'irai détruire ses doigts, peu importe. J'essaierai avant tout de sauver Megumi. »

« Tu me le promets ? »

Alors qu'elle avait raffermi la prise de sa main sur sa joue, Gojo, lui, s'était mis à caresser la sienne. Tandis qu'elle, le regarda avec panique, lui, l'eût contemplé avec tout l'amour du monde dans les yeux. Gojo lui mentait bien trop. C'était une mauvaise habitude dont il avait du mal à se débarrasser. Mais comment aurait-il pu lui dire la vérité, sachant que ça lui aurait brisé le cœur ? Gojo ne put s'y résoudre.

« Je te le promets, ma belle. »

Comme pour sceller ses paroles, il déposa un tendre baiser sur ses lèvres de velours.

L'enfant prodige l'embrassa délicatement, de peur de la briser, tandis qu'il la tint toujours plus fermement contre son torse. Son cœur pulsait dans sa cage thoracique. Il en avait les oreilles rouges. Gojo ne savait plus où se mettre. Son parfum intoxiquait ses poumons et il sentait une vague de papillons fourmilier dans son bas ventre. Quant à son épouse, elle jugea nécessaire de libérer sa seconde main pour attraper son visage en coupe, de manière à réponse plus amoureusement à son baiser. Elle le sentait partout. Partout autour d'elle. Gojo était dans le bas de son dos, il la maintenait en place, mais il était aussi sur sa joue, à forcer sa tête à rester stoïque et il était au fond d'elle, dans son cœur, dans son esprit, dans son estomac, et dans son âme. Gojo l'avait envahie. Même sa salive ne lui appartenait plus. Elle était sienne. Il était comme un virus. Un virus dont elle n'avait jamais ni recherché de remède, ni été guérie de.

L'instant où le détenteur du Sixième Œil se sépara d'elle, la demoiselle recula. Elle apporta son poing à son pauvre cœur et, presque immédiatement, elle entendit la porte de la pièce s'ouvrir. Des bruits de pas hâtés se mirent à frapper le parquet. Et tandis que son épouse ferma les yeux, ceux de Gojo s'illuminèrent.

« Papa ! »

Père et fils s'enlacèrent. Gojo s'était agenouillé pour accueillir son petit garçon droit dans ses bras, il l'avait étreinté, emprisonné contre lui.

« Comment tu vas, champion ? »

L'enfant prodige caressa le sommet de son crâne.

« Tu as pris soin de maman, j'espère ? »

Le garçon hocha grossièrement la tête. Il savait que son père l'avait senti, de même pour ses grosses larmes qui avaient commencé à tremper son t-shirt. Mais Satoru n'en avait que faire. Il était soulagé de voir son fils après avoir été séparé de sa famille l'espace d'une éternité.

« Mhh ! J'ai été fort, je l'ai protégée comme tu m'as appris ! »

Gojo et sa femme surent pertinemment qu'il mentait, leur fils n'était pas quelqu'un de courageux, il avait autant peur du noir que de la première bête venue. Mais ils savaient aussi qu'il faisait de son mieux, à leurs yeux, c'était amplement suffisant. Gojo était fier de son fils pour avoir essayé, pour vouloir le rendre fier de lui ᅳsigne qu'il l'estimaitᅳ tout en sachant pertinemment que sa femme était assez grande pour se défendre seule. Que même un descendant du clan Gojo n'aurait pas suffi à égaler ses talents d'exorciste.

« C'est bien, filston. » déclara Gojo. « Je suis fier de toi, t'es un grand garçon, maintenant. »

L'enfant prodige se recula de son fils. Il le détailla attentivement, désireux d'imprimer sa simple image dans son esprit. Gojo ignora sa femme qui s'en était allée récupérer son sac à main et jeter un coup d'œil à sa montre, il était trop occupé à embrasser le front de son garçon et à le serrer contre lui.

C'était fou à quel point un si petit être pouvait être aussi diabolique qu'attendrissant. Sa joue rebondissait contre le moindre geste et ses yeux brillaient, à s'y méprendre, comme les siens. Gojo parla avec son fils, il le réconforta et l'étouffa dans son étreinte un nombre incalculable de fois, tout ça sous le regard attentif de sa femme. Ce ne fut qu'une dizaine de minutes plus tard, alors qu'on venait d'enfoncer la porte et de crier, que Gojo se détacha de son fils.

« M'sieur Gojo ! M'sieur Gojo ! »

Accompagné d'autres élèves, Yuji Itadori, ancien réceptacle de Sukuna, avait fait son entrée dans le bureau.

« Y'a un petit garçon qui vous ressemble qui se balade dans les couloirs ! Vous nous aidez à le retrouᅳ Oh. Oh ! Il est là ! »

Gojo se redressa, étudiant les nouvelles têtes apparues dans la pièce. Kinji, Inumaki, Yuta, Panda et même Maki, tous se tenaient derrière Yuji Itadori ᅳqui pointait l'enfant du doigt, des étoiles dans les yeuxᅳ, mains sur les genoux, la poitrine, le visage, ils cherchaient leur souffle.

« Du calme. Vous cherchiez mon fils, c'est ça ? » demanda le blanchâtre.

Yuji hocha vigoureusement la tête.

« Il a retrouvé son chemin comme un grand. » les informa-t-il dans un petit sourire.

« Vous avez un fils ? » s'étonna Maki d'un ton dédaigneux.

« Ouch. »

Gojo plaqua sa main contre sa poitrine.

« Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire, ça ? »

Maki zieuta la troisième Gojo postée sur leur droite à tous. Elle la saluait d'un petit geste de la tête, ce qui, fatalement attira toute l'attention sur elle. Les garçons la dévisagèrent.

« M'dame. »

« Maki. »

« Vous êtes la femme de m'sieur Gojo ?! » s'exclama Yuji.

« Saumon. » intervint Inumaki.

Pendant ce temps, Panda s'était approché d'elle, l'épouse du détenteur du Pouvoir de l'Infini s'accroupissait, voyant la curieuse créature lui faire face. Son pantalon éléphant traînait loin au sol, camouflant ainsi ses splendides escarpins à plateforme Medusa Versace. Elle déposa ses poignets sur ses genoux et plissa les yeux. Une fois suffisamment proche, Panda sentit une de ses mains sur le sommet de son crâne le caresser. Il en soupira.

« Panda, t'étais au courant !? » s'écria Yuji.

« Je savais pour l'épouse, pas pour le fils. » intervint Maki.

« Regardez ! »

Fièrement, Gojo brandit son fils. Il le tint depuis ses aisselles, sous les yeux brillants de Inumaki, Yuji et Panda. Gojo le savait : un enfant, ça faisait toujours son effet. Et qu'il en était fier... La chair de sa chair, le produit de son amour avec la femme de ses rêves, devant ses élèves chéris. Son garçon se tenait calmement. Il admirait Yuji et l'étrange visage de Kinji, ainsi que l'affreuse cicatrice inscrite sur le visage de Maki ᅳce qui l'avait immédiatement fait gémirᅳ

« Fier descendant du clan Gojo, je vous présente mon fils ! Satoru junior ! »

La seconde suivante, sa femme l'avait frappé. Une énorme claque dans le dos de son crâne, et voilà qu'il arrêtait ses conneries.

« C'est ça ouais. Joue avec le feu, sombre fou. » maugréa-t-elle. « Non mais qu'est-ce que tu peux me les briser, sérieusement... »

Gojo rapporta brusquement son fils contre sa poitrine. Il regarda d'un œil boudeur sa bien-aimée se présenter, puis présenter leur enfant tandis que, de son côté, il avait pleuré dans les bras de son garçon, lui contant à quel point il souffrait et se sentait partir dans un monde meilleur. Sous le regard attendri de Maki, Panda et Inumaki, il s'était amusé à entendre son fils crier et frapper son torse. Gojo pouffa silencieusement. Son fils continua de l'appeler. Et, lorsque, soudain, il revint à la vie, rappelé par le pouvoir des liens familiaux, Gojo fut accueilli par le regard désapprobateur de sa femme. Elle tapait du pied au sol, les yeux plissés et ses bras de nouveau croisés sous sa poitrine.

« Repose-le au sol avant de le blesser. »

« Quoi ? Mais on s'amuse ! »

« T'as quel âge, sérieusement ? »

Elle roula des yeux l'instant même où elle eut fini de parler. Elle s'était avancée jusqu'à lui et, une fois leur petit garçon récupéré, elle s'en alla l'offrir à Yuji.

« Allez jouer avec lui, j'ai deux-trois trucs à régler avec Satoru. »

« Compris m'dame. On va bien s'en occuper je vous le promets ! »

Elle le foudroya brusquement du regard.

« Y'a intérêt. »

Yuji déglutit.

« Sinon tu peux dire adieu à demain. »

« Elle plaisante ! »

Gojo rit subitement, pressant ses mains sur les épaules de la jeune femme.

« Prenez bien soin de lui et amusez-vous, on se voit plus tard ! »

« Oh. »

Un peu trop hébété par son interaction avec la femme de son professeur, Yuji ne bougea plus. Fatalement, on lui vola le garçon. Inumaki l'avait attrapé et, aux côtés de Panda, suivit de loin ᅳprèsᅳ par Maki, il l'avait déposé sur son dos et avait couru hors de la pièce. Inumaki fit l'avion, les bras écartés, il fonça droit devant lui, accompagné par les plaintes de la Zenin et des exclamations de Panda.

Yuji resta là. Il ne bougeait plus.

« Eh ? »

« Tu devrais te dépêcher de les rejoindre. » sourit Gojo sur un ton étrangement doux. « Sinon mon fils va finir par les aimer plus que toi. »

« Hein !? Non ! »

La femme de l'exorciste roula des yeux. Elle observait Yuji et Kinji s'échapper de là dans des exclamations paniquées, tout deux furieux l'un contre l'autre pour avoir laissé les trois s'échapper. Au même moment, pile poil où la porte coulissante se referma, elle sentit la main de Satoru se glisser dans la sienne, son souffle chaud caressa sa nuque, ainsi que son décolleté, faisant s'emballer les battements de son cœur. Satoru se colla contre elle. Il l'enlaça avec force, soudainement submergé par un sentiment d'euphorie très puissant. Il déposa aussitôt un baiser sur sa joue. Et elle répondit dans un doux sourire en tournant sa tête dans sa direction. Gojo l'embrassa ensuite, elle en sourit.

« Tu le le paieras. »

Gojo huma contre ses lèvres.

« Plus jamais je te laisserai t'en aller. »

« C'est une idée qui me plaît. » il chuchota.

« Satoru, chéri. »

Au moment où il rouvrit les yeux, l'enfant prodige sentit sa femme faire volte-face, à la place de son dos, sa poitrine se colla à son torse. Immédiatement, ses mains trouvèrent leur place sur ses épaules. Elle inspira grandement. Sa tête lui faisait mal, elle en avait les larmes aux yeux. Ce fut si soudain, mais, en cet instant, elle songea au fait que, pour la troisième fois de sa vie, elle risquait de le perdre. Gojo était bel et bien là devant elle, mais qu'en adviendrait-il de ce fait dans les jours à venir ? Gojo Satoru, détenteur du Sixième Œil, du Pouvoir de l'Infini était imbattable. Mais il n'était pas immortel, il ne pouvait pas se régénérer comme le faisait le roi des fléaux Sukuna. Gojo se risquait à perdre bien plus que l'enflure d'en face, car il n'allait pas seulement combattre un démon, mais son propre fils, son ami.

« Gagne. »

Les yeux de Gojo s'écarquillèrent.

« Je t'en prie, reviens moi en vie. »

La demoiselle appuya sur ces propos en collant son front contre le sien, une larme invisible roulant le long de sa joue.

« Remporte ce combat, Satoru. Ne meurs pas. »

Son cœur se serra.

« Je n'y survivrai pas. »

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojou satoru x you #jujustu kaisen #gojo jjk #gojo

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kerlhau · 1 year ago

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[FR ] Pour mon anniversaire j'ai (enfin !!!!) eu l'album "Larmes de Héros" du groupe Sortilège ! Je l'avais offert à un ami plusieurs années auparavant, en me disant que je me prendrai le mien bientôt.

Maiiiiiis il n'y y avait pas eu depuis de nouveau tirage, donc grosse frustration ! Heureusement le mal est réparé ♥

La pochette est tellement incroyable que j'ai eu envie de faire un petit fanart dans ce style ! Mais avec la tête de Méduse.

……………….. • 🟆 • ………………

[ ENG ] For my birthday I (finally !!!!) had the album “Larmes de Héros” from the group Sortilège ! I had given it to a friend several years ago, telling myself that I would get my own soon. Buuuut there hasn't been a new draw since, so big big BIG frustration ! Fortunately the damage is repaired ♥

The cover is so incredible that I wanted to make a little fanart in this style ! But with the head of Medusa.

#draw #illustration #drawing #dessin #upthebaguette #wip #kerlhau #art #artists on tumblr #the french side of tumblr #larmes de héros #sortilège #french band #metal

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samsaraandbeyond · 2 years ago

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OC Introduction: Quoth

Art drawn by Teh-Ray

He gets no bitches and its actually pretty funny.

Design

Quoth's design was based off a friend's OC!

Art drawn by Zenon, Character belongs to Arrk (Person)

Arrk (OC) was an important character that starred in a fanfic story I had written for friends, which featured characters of mine experiencing very important, and eventually canon, character development.

Course, I can't use Arrk for my own personal storytelling. The fanfic story was fanfic and Arrk was transplanted far from his own world and stories. He couldn't have even been present at the events that unfolded.

But the character development that my characters experienced was so important that it couldn't simply be discarded.

The answer? Have someone take Arrk's place in the narrative! Unique enough in design to stand on their own but at least close enough to where they can play his role without a massive alteration to the story that was told. And that's how Quoth was born.

Also he lapses into speaking French sometimes. And he is officially a cross between a crow and a cockatrice.

Crowcatrice.

Abilities / Traits

Sharpshooter

Mordecai (Lackadaisy)

He was born with great eyesight; his deadly accuracy was a byproduct.

Quoth's aim with bullet and laser weapons is scarily precise. This precision somewhat translates to things with travel time, such as arrows fired from crossbows.

"If only we lived in a world where such skills weren't necessary. On the bright side, I can play a mean game of darts!" - Quoth

Medusa's Blessing

Quoth's stone eye has the ability to petrify anything from people to objects in its gaze. His control over said ability makes him a very powerful opponent.

He can choose whether or not to encase something in stone or convert it to stone entirely, the former being efficient enough to slow something down and the latter having fatal capabilities. This ability can only be used on things within Quoth's line of sight; he cannot affect what he can see through camera feeds and the like. Reflective surfaces and what he can see through a scope (magnifying glasses) are fair game, however.

Objects can be petrified without resistance. Living, organic beings must meet his eye for it to take effect. If that being is someone that opens themselves to his influence (allies that trust him), they no longer need to meet his eye for the effect to apply. This grants Quoth the ability to apply a rock-like armor to allies that they can dispel at any time.

This ability is more efficient the closer his target is to him, with its effect lessening with distance. It can also be hindered if Quoth's vision is damaged or obscured.

The rocky material this ability generates can be dispelled by Quoth at will.

"I'd prefer if you held still for just a moment." - Quoth

Personality

Quoth carries the air of a sophisticated fool. With eloquent posturing and vocabulary, he isn't too remarkable in most aspects. Not too dumb, not too smart.

He has an obsession with the arts of romance, cultural expression, and drama. Despite being very educated in various aspects of social conventions and societies, he rarely puts any of it to use and forgets what he knows as quickly as he remembers.

"Patience mon ami, our presence has been noted. Now we wait for the pretty birds to notice us..." - Quoth

Backstory

To be added...

"Oh, it is a story of love, friends, and the natural hardships that confound us all...La vie n'est-elle pas belle?" - Quoth

#oc #samsara #unique oc #oc lore #Quoth #OC Introduction

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babakiyaga · 2 years ago

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🥛🥤🍅🥂🍞 for sophie and galina heh heh 😈💕💕💕

🤨 hehehe i see you!! Sorry for the late response but I like to sit and hatch things, or cook them for a while as I think of my hair-brained schemes <3 BUT THANK YOU!!!!!

Sophie first:

🥛 [MILK] What is your OC’s relationship with their biological parents like? What about their relationship with any non-biological parental figures?

Her parents are actually dead. They were murdered. That's why she ended up in G*tham, she literally was out for revenge for about uhhhhhhh. Fuck... I wanna say I killed her parents off when she was 8 and that was her driving force for revenge, which she got, at around her mid 20s I was making it. Sorry, she's still new so a lot of her story is still being made! But modern-day Sophie is in her late 30s and she's got her revenge by now. But she loved he parents and misses the time she had with them. Loved learning from them as they were well-accomplished magic users; but a lot of stuff has also been forgotten too, unfortunately. She can't remember how they look or sound anymore :/

🥤 [PARTY CUP] How does your OC feel about drama? Do they start any themselves?

OH! Okay, she actually likes to know the drama but wants NO part of it. She will go so far as to just simply stand up and walk out of the whole room, leaving the whole building if she has to. Which actually sucks for her because after she meets and starts working with [Acme truck drives past] she is suddenly part of the Batman Rogue gallery. Sort of. But either way, she likes knowing but that's it. This means she does not start anything. Or at least tries not to, because a lot of the other rogues are super fucking irritating she finds out. Also, they're like roaches they won't die and they just come back, or they act obsessive, just clinical insanity she finds out! But she'll be aight.

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

I don't think she's misunderstood at all. Or at least she does not play the victim to things she's done or has done, or will do. Also if someone wants to misunderstand her and her intentions then that's on them and she doesn't feel the need to correct people. Unless it's the few that she cares about. Otherwise, she's not like a nasty piece of work or had some great tragedy (at least she doesn't see losing her parents as a great tragedy at this point) befall on her to become misunderstood with how she acts. Aka turning people to stone. But those people deserve it. Most of the time.

🥂 [GLASS CHEERS] What is your OC’s 'aesthetic?’

Ohhhhhhhh, I mean I could go the easy route and say snakes. Which she does! But not just snakes. She likes history and Mythology a lot, aka the whole Medusa vibe she goes for, or her 'theme' in the city of G*tham. She's actually well-versed in the Greek pantheon as well as actual history. I like to think Maxie Zeus sort of has a crush on her. But snakes, mythology-greek centric, as well as eyes! I don't know how to explain eyes with her. But anything with eyes that are the focus like in art or films or photography she loves! Also when I tag her and the eyes are the main focus I'm like 'That's Sophie.' The petrifying magic, like Medusa, only works if you look into her eyes but she can do other fancy things with her eyes also!

🍞 [BREAD] Does your OC have any allergies? How severe are they? Do they require equipment to help them?

She does not have any allergies known! Or at least severe ones. Something mundane I've thrown in is she takes, you know, Claritin LMAO during Spring. She probably uses a nasal rinse every night before bed.

NOW GALINA'S DUMBASS (Affectionate)

🥛 [MILK] What is your OC’s relationship with their biological parents like? What about their relationship with any non-biological parental figures?

With her ma and pa it was a good relationship. Healthy in fact! But more leaning into with her father- as her father never got any sons so he picked Galina out of the three that makeup her and her sisters. So she was raised in business, finances, and hunting! While her sisters spent a lot of time with their mom. But Galina was more than happy to be with her father most of the time since she found it more interesting. She likes to learn first and foremost and he did a good job building her up to be confident in her skills when she gets older.

Now non-biological parental figures I can't say... Anyone really. Instead, I'd have to go back to biological parental figures because after her parents pass it's what she learns from her two sisters is what turns her into a little terror. That's when she learns how to finesse, how to talk to other nobility, and how to play mind games. All those things she learns from Marya and Zoya, her two older sisters, WHO learned from their mother. So it trickled back down to her in the end.

🥤 [PARTY CUP] How does your OC feel about drama? Do they start any themselves?

OH FUCK. Oh fuck... LOVES drama. And she will be the one who starts it! One of my favorite posts I've tagged her and I think the twins is this one [x] Literally the thought of Treavor inviting her to an outing without telling his brothers... Just so she shows up and ruins everything is so fucking good. And she'll be sooooo happy about it also. So loves the drama and lives for it.

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

This one was hard because I can see in Dunwall she'd be misunderstood as just another terrible noble. But a fallen one, so it's like 'ew' since nobility in Tyvia is like [russian revolution, goodbye romanovs] and that just reeks this person has problems and not just personal ones. But she's not the type to let it get to her, she has good armor and also money ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. So she could play the misunderstood card or be that terrible noble or barbaric foreigner if she wanted to. But she just doesn't find it fun or entertaining so I don't think she's really misunderstood or at least she doesn't see herself as it.

🥂 [GLASS CHEERS] What is your OC’s 'aesthetic?’

At her base: books, scrolls, art, hunting- any sort of activity that will work her brain that's outside the realm of social interactions. She likes to read and learn and talk about philosophy or gray morality subjects. But it's hard to get there with her. Instead on the outside it's fashion, gossip, theater, or ballet- Anything that looks expensive but finely crafted. She adores shoes and gloves and has a lot of matching pairs of them.

🍞 [BREAD] Does your OC have any allergies? How severe are they? Do they require equipment to help them?

She's actually sensitive to certain cleaners, so she'll break out in hives if something is laundered incorrectly or with harsh chemicals. As well as fragrances make her light-headed so a lot of perfumes she'll avoid. Which is unfortunate because she knows a lot of good smells but can't stand them very long.

#hellloooooooooooooo #HENLO and thank you!!!#thank you for letting me indulge in my little peons #oc. sophie #oc. galina

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inhumanmadman · 2 years ago

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[ I had one of those cinematic dreams again. Strap in. It's a wild ride.

So...Something was happening. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but I will try my hand at explaining it. The sentinels were attacking the mutant nation of Genosha.

(Yes, I know. "But that doesn't exist anymore! Why would Maximus even be there?" It's not like my brain was obeying any version of canon, and Maximus wasn't there. Maximus will appear later. Give me a minute.)

Genosha crumpled like a paper bag under a tank. Everyone was wiped out, except one William Lehnsherr, my own alternate Billy Kaplan. He sat in stunned silence over the corpses of his beloved twin and grandfather, a sentinel looming overhead. Death was imminent. Until he had the typical Scarlet Witch moment. An epic scream. White light. Bodies around him gasped in the breath of life. Buildings reformed. And the sentinels evaporated into a fine sparkling dust. Billy then collapsed into unconsciousness. I don't blame him. Bringing people back to life has to be hard on a teenager.

Magneto jumped into action at that point, despite his shock. "Thomas, carry your brother inside. I have some calls to make."

The first call was to Namor, who was none the wiser about the slaughter. Magneto informed him, and Namor was not happy. I can only imagine what emotions that would have stirred in someone who had witnessed the actions of the Nazis. When asked if he would shelter some of the Genoshan population, he agreed, but only so many. His kingdom didn't have the oxygen to spare too many sets of lungs. Magneto agreed.

He then contacted Attilan. Medusa claimed to have seen the slaughter. (I...don't know how. We'll assume Magneto was having it broadcasted so the planet could see how mutants were being slaughtered like pests. You know, to gain sympathizers.) She was happy to hear they had all somehow survived. Attilan agreed to take the remaining Genoshan population.

Magneto ordered Tommy to take Billy with the group to Atlantis because, "There is no king more dangerous than Namor when his people are under siege. Make certain our people are in the heart of Atlantis, and he will protect them."

(That didn't make a lot of sense. Tommy is useless inside a submarine, while Magneto is perfectly able to use his powers inside of a submarine. He basically sent his grandchildren down in a sealed prison while giant robots were after them. Meanwhile, he was off to, what, cower behind Black Bolt?)

Genosha had a teleporter type...thing. The people just walked through to Attilan, which welcomed them with blankets, water, and food. Black Bolt greeted Magneto with a nod, before they both ascended to the highest flat point of the city, where they waited. While waiting, Magneto contacted Tommy.

"We're fine. I should be there, though. Billy is out cold. I feel like I'm babysitting him," he griped. He was told he had to be his brother's protector, before a rush of water spun the submarine around. There were no windows, only monitors, so Tommy looked up at the monitors to see Namor taking no chances. He saw a sentinel hot on the submarine's tail, so he was crushing it between his hands like an empty can of soda. After the chaos, Tommy responded to his grandfather's worried calls. "Yeah, we're fine. I have a fear boner now, though. Namor is intense."

There was a loud laugh on Magneto's side; Maximus had joined the two of them, along with Medusa and Crystal. "The others wanted to hear what was happening..."

"Shit--I mean--Sorry!" Tommy stammered.

Medusa sighed. "You're allowed one social faux pas after almost dying."

"Thank you, Medusa...ma'am...Uh, Queen Medusa I mean."

That was when Iron Man arrived. Underwater. Not his best decision, but he seemed to care about the boys. "How are you boys holding up?" he asked, hacked into their comms. He was greeted by the other voices, then apologized for being late. "Too late...I'm sorry. I saw everything from my satellite." His sorrowful words were interrupted by another sentinel attack, which they were warned about by SHIELD.

"Heads up, boys. We got another one coming in hot towards Atlantis." It was Samuel L. Jackson Fury in his own underwater craft following behind said sentinel.

Iron Man, Antonio (which makes two 1610 characters for some reason), was nigh useless, but he was distracting enough to enable Namor to do what he had to do.

When Fury's craft arrived on scene, a comm was ejected out of it to Namor, who clipped it to his ear. "Better late to the party than absent. We're tracking the trajectories of the robots. Does anyone have any info on them?"

"They are not built for this depth. I hear them creaking under the pressure," Namor told them.

Fury hummed. "Makes sense. They're only targeting mutants, and you're the only mutant who lives this far underwater. It doesn't make sense to prepare them all to kill just one mutant." Commotion on the line signaled a sentinel attack in Attilan. Then, a sound made anyone listening either cover their ears or pull the device away from their head. Black Bolt's voice. When it calmed down, Fury asked, "Is everything alright over there? I have some agents en route."

"All is well," Magneto told him, a little breathless. He hadn't fought, but Black Bolt's voice could be staggering. Behind him, Maximus was leaning over the edge of the building to see where the pieces of the sentinel had landed. Crystal had to pull him back by his coat so he wouldn't tumble over.

Some more commotion erupted over the comms, screams, then nothing. Fury cursed. "Well, I guess that plan didn't pan out...Keep an eye out for an incoming agent-killer. I'll send another team over if they come up with another plan."

Black Bolt positioned himself for another scream, but, just as he was about to unleash his power, Maximus placed a device in front of his mouth, which narrowed his attack area. It focused the damage into the chest of the sentinel. The head and body were separated, the head landing on the roof they were standing on. Maximus wiggled his fingers. "Oh, goodie~."

Namor sneered. "Is that Maximus?"

Magneto sighed. "I'm afraid so."

"Let him have his fun, as long as it helps," Antonio interjected.

Namor simply shook his head. His mood turned hostile, though, when he heard the approach of another sentinel. But, then, there was something else. Seeing a red glow, he was poised to attack when--

Antonio called out, "Wait wait! Stand down! It's dangerous, but it's not a robot. Everyone make way for Mama Bear. She needs through to her cubs."

Wanda moved through the water in an orb of magic before teleporting into the submarine. There, she sat by Tommy, who was cradling Billy's upper body, and touched both of their cheeks. She ensured the two of them were alright, before she finally asked how they were alive. She'd felt the emptiness of losing them. Tommy explained that Billy tapped into the Life Force, something he only seemed to be able to do when he needed...well, the force of life. Wanda sighed, both relieved and worried about her unconscious son.

There was a long stretched of time after the last attack, but everyone remained vigilant. Tommy was frustrated by his inability to help. "It feels like I'm gonna explode if I don't do something!"

"That's the adrenaline, Thomas. Embrace it. You don't want to be without it when you need it." The wise words of his far calmer grandfather.

Finally, Maximus broke the tense quiet. "I've got it! Take a listen!" On the line, there was a faint beeping, barely discernible from the static of wind to the average person.

Antonio smiled. "Oh yeah, baby, talk binary to me. Namor, if I die, tell Steve I died with a new man crush."

Maximus only laughed. Namor rolled his eyes.

Medusa asked what everyone was thinking. "What is it?"

Antonio told her, "Incoming instructions. Manual. Friday, are you getting this?"

"Every instruction," the computer confirmed.

"And that means--?" Tommy asked.

"It means someone is directing them to one of us as we speak. Whenever the sentinel arrives, we can follow the instructions in reverse back to their origin," Maximus explained.

"How did you tap into them? I've been trying to find their feed since I got here." Antonio was clearly impressed.

"I have one of their heads."

"Are you elbow deep in it right now?"

"Wrist deep at the moment."

"Dig deeper. Give me all the dirty details." He was definitely flirting. (This is not a ship I usually ship, so I have no idea where it came from.)

"Stark, we talked about you inviting crazy into your bed. He's not just certifiably insane, he's certified," Fury warned him.

"And no one wants to hear nerd flirting."

Namor smirked at Tommy's comment. Teenagers were amusing sometimes, even to the king of Atlantis.

Time ticked by, everyone listening to each beep and holding their breath. Which one of them was going to be attacked?

Just as a sentinel came into view, it exploded, leaving a cloud of smoke and a badass backdrop for a craft and some flying backup on the horizon. Landing on the rooftop in Attilan, the mutants of Krakoa (Look, I don't know. I--There's two mutant factions in this world, I guess.) surrounded Magneto. Charles embraced him. "I came as soon as I heard. I'm sorry I'm so late, my friend..."

"I'm just glad to see you're unhurt," Erik told him.

They discussed their plans of action, settling on following the signal back to their origin with a team fit for destroying a small army of sentinels. Medusa and Namor both protested. What if it was a trap? They'd be down some of their key fighters. "If it isn't a trap, we can't risk throwing away what could be our only opportunity to destroy them," Charles explained.

So a team consisting of many mutants, including Charles Xavier, Magneto, Wolverine, Quicksilver, and Wanda (not currently the Scarlet Witch for whatever reason) flew in the Krakoan craft to the location of where the sentinels were coming from. There was an anxiety-inducing battle, where many close calls were had. Magneto slapped a device onto one of the sentinels at one point, and it began to attack the other sentinels. He exclaimed what was happening like a 60's comic. "I placed the device on the robot, and, now, it's acting as our ally!"

Maximus cackled over the comms. "Its programming was overridden by my own!"

Iron Man arrived on scene. He couldn't miss out on the epic climax. "Oooh, you and I have got to get together sometime."

"You can duplicate it easily, Stark. It's universal~."

Stark groaned as he copied the device's code and relayed it to the other sentinels. At that point, the mutants barely had to fight. The fight was won. When they found the person responsible for it all, he was dead by his own hand. Antonio didn't care, though. He tapped into his console. "I'm in."

"Are you?" Maximus teased.

"I'm in, and I have every dirty detail. Wanna hear it?" Antonio teased back.

"Tell me."

"They copy mutant powers."

Maximus gasped. "Impossible. Tell me more~."

"By [insert my brain's nonsense here]."

"Through what?"

"[Again, of course I wouldn't have an actual answer for it.]."

Maximus literally moaned, which Medusa scolded him for. "Genius. I utilized [blank] to counter the Fantastic Four, but that, that wasn't nearly as creative."

Antonio was smirking inside his suit. "I guess he was kinkier than you."

"I wish I'd met him."

"Well, maybe I should keep some of these details to myself, and you can hear them over...dinner on Friday?"

"Stark, no!" Fury yelled over the communicator. Stark cut him out.

"Stealing a man's techniques for a date. Shameless, Stark. Time and place?"

"Maximus, absolutely not!" Medusa interjected, but she was simply ignored.

"My California mansion. 1800 Pacific."

"I will be there. Whether my family approves or not."

Now, there was more. It involved kinky sex that left bruises on Maximus, the death of Antonio Stark, and a clash between SHIELD, the Avengers, and the Inhumans, but I'm now too tired to type it out. :|

Fin. ]

#i can ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ the minds of lesser men. ‖ ooc

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