#comet surface

[visionautiks]

sampler

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[viric-dreams]

Impressed and unimpressed. A slightly more historical take on Ockham ca. 1813.

[misfortuneskeep]

ik the production of s3 was insane but i really just want to know how they ended up accidentally calling the comet a planet in e8. and the fact in their plan to get home they say 'zane knows the solar system' as if that matters like as if they WERE on a faraway planet and not just, a comet thats passing right by the home planet. like was there a point in production where they actually were on an alien planet and it made it all the way to voice acting

[itsgerges]

[kommetz]

glass animals was right. heatwaves in the middle of june.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 ❞

❝ I CAN'T BREATHE WITHOUT YOU, BUT I HAVE TO... ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader (canon / multi au)

✧ summary: "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk manga spoilers (236 spoilers), multiple lives, assassin!reader x duke!gojo, actor!gojo x singer!reader, prince!gojo x knight!reader, model!gojo x photographer!reader, oral (f!receiving) in a car, semi-public, making out in public, pantyhose ripping, canon compliant except towards the end, angsty, but also bittersweet / implied happy ending

✧ wc: 6,589

“Do you think we would be together in another life?” you ask, not thinking much of the question, as your fingers draw lazy circles against his bare chest, your head resting right between his shoulder and chest. 

Satoru chuckles, vibration against your skin, “Of course we would, sweetheart,” his arms curl around you, tugging you higher, as he gazes up at you, “you think I could live any lifetime without you?” He murmurs, his lips finding yours, “I know we’d find each other, time and time again,” 

“How do you know?” your fingers brush against his cheek, shaking as he presses his cheek into your palm, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Because, I love you,” he kisses you again, sweet lips gliding against yours, his breath warming your lips as he parts. 

“You did say love is a curse,” you give a small smile, and he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Then I’d want you to curse me — in every life.” 

“I swear on my life,” you press the dagger to his throat, blade digging into his formerly  perfect porcelain skin, drawing scarlet to the surface, “I’ll kill you, Satoru Gojo,” 

“I’m flattered to be a target of the infamous blueblood assassin,” his cerulean eyes glinted like stars in the candlelight, flames flickering across his eyes like burning comets, “but I didn’t think you would announce yourself as you did — what if I called for my guards?” 

You scoff, fingers flexing against the hilt of your dagger, “Then you would be dead before you uttered even a single sound and do you think I left your guards to chance? All of that schooling to be a duke and you haven’t learned a single thing have you?” 

“And what have I done to end up as your target?” he hums — as you bit back a sigh stuck in your throat — you preferred your marks to be much less chatty, but all he had was his mouth you supposed, “you only target the rich and the corrupt — and while I may fit the former, I do not fit the latter,” 

“You’re certainly sure of yourself,” and he’s unfazed by your reply, as his eyes wander the only thing visible of your expression — your eyes. 

“Since you have not stated my crime, I can only assume that I’ve committed none, and the infamous assassin whose morals could not be compromised have been,” and your grip wavers a moment, and he takes advantage of your hesitance to disarm you, and pin you to a nearby chaise all before the clatter of your blade hitting the marble floor, “and now what’s an assassin’s price who has done all of this for no reward?” 

“How do you know I’ve done this for no reward?” you squirm in his grip, but it’s ironclad, and you know all too well he could have broken from your grasp at any point, but he had chosen not to — your heartbeat roars in your ears as one question repeats again and again stuck between  beats — why? “I very well may have taken a payment you don’t know of — you act as if you know of me,” 

“Because I do,” the heir replies with a simple smile, “I have followed your work for a long time, and I found myself fascinated with what you do — and why you do it,” 

“Honored to have caught your attention,” you say in mock reverence, your arm beginning to ache, “now do you plan to call your guards?” 

“Didn’t know you were so eager to die,” he stares still, as you turn your head away from his piercing gaze, “shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your target or now your captor?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You mumble as you flinch as you squirm under his grip, sleeve riding up ever so slightly — and then he sees it. His eyes narrow, as his hand grasps at your wrist now, “hey! Don’t—“ 

In a moment his fingers nearly rip the fabric of your tunic to tug your sleeve up —  angry red cuts and purple bruises litter your arm. Your breath catches as his eyes stare for several moments before sliding back to you — no longer a placid pool but a raging ocean. 

“Who did this to you?” he says quietly, and you’re blinking, nearly slack jawed, as you try to rip your arms away, but he won’t let you, “who is it? Is it the same person who told you to kill me?” 

“Stop—“ 

“Is it the same person who’s taken someone important to you?” and you grit your teeth in silence, “is it the little orphan you adopted? Yuji?” 

And your eyes snap to his, “How do you know this? Who are you?” 

His lips curl,  “You told me yourself, I’m Satoru Gojo,” and his fingers brush your cheek, “it’s a shame you don’t remember where we first met — because I never forgot,” 

You furrow your brow, “What are you talking about? I think I’d remember you. You’re…” you jerk your head, eyes looking him up and down — lingering on his white hair and eyes, “distinct,” 

“Well what if I had black hair and green eyes, would you remember then?” And he whispers your name in your ear, and you pause, “the fireworks were nothing compared to you,” 

And your breath catches — “You? But—“ 

“I had snuck out, had a disguise and everything, and I had planned to explore the festival alone but who do I find but you?” His grip on you loosens only to pull you a little closer, “the girl who had stolen two steamed buns and pinned me with part of the blame, making me run after you—“ 

“You didn’t have to run—“ and he snorted. 

“Well, it was that or get caught sneaking out — so I chose the lesser of two evils,” you can’t help it, your fingers trace the curve of his jaw to the back of his ear, “are you seeing if I’m defective?” And you find it. 

“No, he—“ you stop yourself, “you had gotten a small cut right behind your ear, it was deep enough that it would have left a scar behind,” and he had gotten a small cut from one of the soldiers who had grabbed them, bucking him with his sword, before you wrenched him out of there. The two of you spent the rest of the night eating food and sneaking around guards. And then finally climbing up on a rooftop to watch the fireworks. 

“How did you—“ 

“One of my father’s advisers found me later that night, in exchange for never sneaking out again without telling him, he said he would keep tabs on you,” 

You have no words, but one left — “why?” 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, “maybe it was because I’ve been surrounded by nothing but my family’s yes-men, and you were the one person who treated me like a person, maybe it was the fact that day was the only day I actually had fun,” and he glances at you, “or maybe it was because I was drawn to you,” 

And you snort a little, “Do you believe in that fates nonsense they fed all of us as kids?” 

“I think fate is a very real thing, and I think it’s up to us to seize it,” he releases you, holding your hand before bending to press the barest brush of his lips against the back of your hand, “so, will you seize it or continue to evade your fate?” 

“We’ll never be able to evade the press if you do this,” you whisper, as he presses you against a wall of a secluded pillar of whatever place they had chosen to have this awards show, “and our teams will definitely chew us out if we don’t make an—ah,” you gasp, as his teeth nip at your neck, “Satoru, don’t leave a mark,” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he licks his lips, as he leans up, his normally messy white locks combed and parted to the side, his lips kiss bitten red from the liplock he had you in for the last ten minutes, and his white suit slightly ruffled and pressed against you, “you taste so sweet,” his thumb runs down your puffy lips, “and the desserts tonight sucked,” 

You chuckle, your fingers toying with the hair resting against his undercut, “Think you would have been pleased with receiving the award for best actor, is that not enough Mr. Gojo?” 

“The only thing that pleases me is my gorgeous wife’s singing and,” his lips find yours in a desperate kiss, and you could taste the fruity mocktail he had earlier on his lips, “and her moans when she’s under me,” his hand slides under your dress, dragging over your pantyhose clad thighs, “do you think anyone would notice if you came back without these?” 

“Yes, I do,” you gasp as he tugs at the delicate fabric, “Toru, we shouldn’t—” but your pleas are half-hearted, as his lips drift to press butterfly kisses up your jaw, “you deserve me insane,” 

“I know,” he chuckles, “that’s why you love me,” and you hum, your noses brushing before you meet lips again, “I love you so much,” 

Your fingers cup his cheek, as he leaned into your touch, “I love you too — don’t you want to enjoy all the accolades, the interviews, the congratulations? You won such a big award, Toru, I want you to celebrate,” 

“I am celebrating,” he grins, tilting his head, “I’m surprised at you, princess — and you’re the smart one between the two of us,” he teases, as he turns his head to kiss your palm, “in an entire ballroom full of people in there and all the places in the world, there’s no one place I rather be with than here with you.” 

“How did I end up stuck with you?” you grumbled, your armor weighing on you heavier than other days, as you stood in front of your prince — the little sun of this kingdom and the future king, the man you were sworn to protect for the rest of your earthly days, and your best friend, for better for worse, “if the fates have written it, I must have done something horrid in a past life,” 

“Do you really believe in that garbage?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, as he places his sword down from practice, waiving off his training partner, as he wipes off his sweat with a towel offered by a maid, “You know that stuff they fed to us so we wouldn’t throw tantrums during classes — so we didn’t turn into slugs for our next life,” 

“Why turn into one when you are one already?” you smirk, and he rolls his eyes, as he runs his hand through his hair. 

“Has a slug ever looked this good before?” and you roll your eyes. 

“Think your ego is going to be so large by the time you become king, your crown won’t sit atop your head correctly,” you sigh, rising to your feet, “now we must get you cleaned and dressed, you have a meeting with the—” 

“I actually cleared my schedule for the rest of the day,” and you blink, frowning. 

“His Majesty will not—” 

“His Majesty will be fine — old man hasn’t kicked the bucket over the last fifty things I’ve done — I doubt this will be more than a ten minute lecture on decorum, fifteen if I decide to poke the bear,” he throws you a grin, as he pulls on a fresh shirt, “come, I have something to show you,” 

“Show me?” you repeat, before his hand finds yours — his hands are smooth despite the constant swordplay and practice he put in — he supposed he owed that to the royal staff, tending to his looks as much as they did his health. The same could not be said about yours — riddled with cuts and calluses alike. Your cheeks burned as your unkempt hand held his — “your highness, this is—” 

“‘Your Highness?’” he repeats, throwing you a smirk over his shoulder, “when have you ever called me that?” 

The appearance of holding your hand as he pulled you down several hallways through the palace was beginning to attract the attention of several gawking onlookers. Your cheeks burn — and you’re not sure if it's from the stares, his words, or the fact he was still holding your hand as you both arrive outside his chambers. But you can’t stop him — but you never could stop him when it came to this, could you? It reminded you of the times he dragged you through the gardens, wanting to show you the rabbits’ hidey hole he had found in the corner of the royal gardens. 

“Well I was made an official royal guard and appointed as your personal guard yesterday so I thought a little professionalism—” he unlocks his door, turning to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“There’s no need for decorum between us, now is there?” his fingers find a stray strand of your hair, and presses his lips to it, as he opens his door. You glance inside to find a lovely decorated cake and a present wrapped perfectly on the table, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” 

“What—but—” and your mind realizes the date, “how did you—” 

“You think I’d ever forget your birthday?” he tilts his head, as your eyes slide to him, “it’s the day we met,” 

It was — the day you were brought from your home with your father who had been the king’s royal guard for many years, you were brought to be the prince’s — but you didn’t know you would find more than that in him. 

“I didn’t know you did this for your personal staff,” you teased, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, “I certainly can’t imagine what they would think of you inviting a woman to your room for it,” 

“Well, you are my personal guard, you’re here to personally guard me against anything, right?” and this was the nature of your relationship wasn’t it? Teasing and goading — toeing that line of proprietary before one of you eased off. 

“It seems like I need to guard you only against yourself, your highness,” 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his eyes sliding to you, as he says your name with a softness that you wished he wouldn’t, “you had no issue calling me that before,” 

“We were only friends then, I’m your guard now—“ 

“Do you kiss all your friends?” And your cheeks flare, as your gaze refuses to meet his. 

“That was—a mistake,” you whisper the last two words, “we can’t do this—“ 

“Why not?” You turn away, your eyes sliding to the cake, a frown pulling on your lips. 

“Because you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to you,” and his fingers find your shoulder gently, giving you leave to pull away — but you can’t, you couldn’t. 

“My only duty I desire is the one to you—I love my people, but I can’t be the king they deserve if you’re not the one beside me,” your gaze still cast downward, “I will cast away any responsibility, if I could have a chance with you, sweetheart—“ 

“The king has discussed your engagement with me,” you murmur, “he told me he plans to have you engaged with a princess from a neighboring—“ And his arm is wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer — your gaze lost in the endless blue skies of his eyes, “we can’t—“ 

“I’ll find a way,” and you scoff. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mutter, and his warm palm slides against your cheek. 

“This isn’t me promising to find a unicorn when we were five, Princess,” and you chuckle at the thought of his child self trudging into the woods with carrots in hand and what he thought was fairy dust (it was ladies’ finishing powder), “I swear that we’ll be together,” and he reaches into his pocket, and holds a small box, opening it to reveal a beautiful infinity pendant, “and this is my promise,” 

You bite your lip, staring at the silver glinting in the sunlight trickling in from the windows, “Satoru—“ 

“Finally giving in?” And you sigh. 

“How can you be sure we’ll be together?” He chuckles, as he gently turns you, making you face the mirror in his room as he places the necklace delicately around your neck, his fingers brushing against the skin of your neck before he clasps it. His arms slowly slide around your middle as he meets your gaze in your reflection, lips curling. 

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, “Because I know I’d choose you, again and again.” 

“Why did they choose him as my model again?” You groaned as you looked at the list, tossing it back on your desk, “he’s so impossible to work with—“ 

“The shoots are finished quick—“ your boss replies gruffly, as he stands with his hands in his pockets, “and he said he’d only shoot with you. Said he likes your work and you’re the only one who can ‘capture the real him,’ some crap like that,” he shrugs. 

“Yaga, I can’t keep dealing with this man, can’t he shoot with anyone else?” 

He sighs, scratching the back of his head, “Look, the magazine we’re working with chose him as the model, and he said he would only do the shoot if you did it,” 

You sigh, leaning on your palm, elbow against your desk. “you’re not giving me a choice are you?” 

And no, he wasn’t. 

Because now you were at the studio for the sight of the shoot, getting everything ready that you could before your model arrived. You made sure his preferred makeup artist and hairstylist were available, you picked out his favorite snacks, got his preferred lighting (to be adjusted when he was on set), and had your cameras adjusted for his light sensitivity. 

All of which reduced the amount of time you had to spend with this man — but not even the most divine snacks would stop him from running his mouth. 

“Sweetheart,” you turned to see him, “miss me?” 

“When pigs fly, maybe,” but your words don’t faze him, a mock pout on his lips, “why do you request me to do your shoots, Gojo?” 

“Because it’s the only way you’ll see me,” and you sigh, as you continue to adjust your camera again, “you still haven’t given me a chance—“ 

“I gave you one chance, wasn’t that enough?” Before you turn to him, “look, I’m here because I have to be. I want to shoot — get in and get out and not have to—“ 

“One chance to talk to you — please, even if you don’t believe me or forgive me—“ 

“Fine,” you shake your head, frustrated, “go finish the shoot and we can talk for five minutes after,” and maybe he would stop forcing you into this situation. 

Satoru Gojo was the top wanted model by all the agencies — agencies were looking to snipe him and others were looking to have exclusive deals with him — whether it was photography businesses or brands. 

You couldn’t blame them, as you adjusted your lights and took a few test shots — he was gorgeous, even by model standards. From his skin to his body to his attitude, it was effortless for him. Even a bad angle or bad lighting did very little to detract from his flawless look. 

The chiseled cut of his jaw put statues to shame, his eyes shone brighter than the shiniest gemstones, his charm the envy of the love goddess herself, and his smile was enough to change hearts and minds alike. 

The shoots always look little time — the part that took the most time was choosing the best shots — you’d love to take one bad picture of him. Even for yourself — but that had proved impossible. Even deprived of sleep in the hours of the early morning, he was perfect. 

Perfect — except for his loyalty, you supposed. 

How had it gone so wrong so fast? And how did you let yourself become so carried away that you thought you were different from the others he bedded? 

And the shoot was over in a moment, and just like he said, Satoru was by your side as you begin to break down the equipment, as the other staff filed out, “can we talk now?” 

“If you have to,” you would give him an ear, but it didn’t mean you’d give him anything else.

“I never cheated on you—“ 

“Bullshit,” you reply, as you pick up the tripod you set up,  “I guess you didn’t the full five minutes,” 

“No, I didn’t—what you saw—“ 

“I saw you kissing another girl all over social media—“

“You saw me with Suguru,” he sighs, “and we weren’t kissing — we were hugging. You thought it was kissing from the angle of the picture, and before I could explain, you had blocked me on everything,”

You pause, “Suguru?” You repeat, as you pull out your phone and pull up the picture — black hair, hair half up, and they could have been hugging. And Satoru pulls out his own phone and shows you a selfie he took that same day, the meta data matching, “oh, oh fuck,” 

“Was that an apology? Not familiar with those coming out of your mouth so—“ 

“Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I saw the pictures and I heard the rumors and I assumed the worst of you,” you run your fingers through your hair, “even though I knew you better than that,” 

“You did, but I understand why you thought that,” he shrugged, “we had only been seeing each other for a month, but it meant something to me,” his voice softens.

“To me too,” you shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Satoru. I don’t know how to make it up to you,” 

“I know,” he smiles, “have dinner with me,” 

You blink. “why?”

“What do you mean, sweetheart? Everyone eats dinner, it’s a—“ 

“Satoru,” you sigh, “I didn’t believe you, I didn’t trust you, how can you forgive me like that? How could you want to be with someone like that?” 

“Well, you made a mistake — you forgave me for the other mistakes I made during our time together, and if I hadn’t let my team convince me that my fake reputation as a playboy would help sell my image — maybe we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with,” his fingers brush against yours, “besides, I want to believe in second chances — because I’d want to believe you’d give me one too,” 

Your fingers intertwine with his, “Even when I don’t deserve it?” 

And he lifts your hand to his lips, blue eyes glinting like an ocean dabbled in sunlight, “All the more for you make up for, right?”

This wasn’t right. No. No. 

“Satoru, Toru, please,” your fingers cupped his face, your fingers smeared with his blood as Maki pulled gou away, “no, no!” You don’t remember screaming, but you know you did because your throat was raw, your tears streaming down your face as your hands shook, staring at the dried blood on your fingers. 

He promised you he would win. He promised you he would come back. He promised you a life, a family, a home — something beyond jujutsu. 

And now you were left with nothing but that. 

“I’ll come back,” he had murmured in your ear the night before, his fingers tracing your cheek, “there’s no way I won’t. Have you ever seen me lose?” 

You give a small chuckle, “You just got trapped in a box for almost twenty days?” And he pouts, as he tilts your head up, fingers sliding against your cheek. 

“It was a one time fluke, sweetheart,” and his lips grazing your lips, “and I’m here now aren’t I?” you hum, “and I’ll always be there,” 

“In every life?” He smiles. 

“In every one.” 

In every one — except this one.  

“One would think you’re helpless, if you pout like that,” you teased, as you crawl into bed beside him, a smile on your lips, as he tugs you steadfast into his arms, “it’s only been a few minutes,” 

“It felt like a lifetime,” he presses a kiss to your head, “Is he asleep?” And you nod, a sigh on your lips as you settle into bed.

“After about twenty minutes of arguing, he passed out while I was telling him a story. He’s still not accustomed to this mansion,” neither were you — you had spent a few nights lying awake after jerking from the clutches of sleep — the paranoia still rampant in your mind. But those thoughts were a little farther now as you lie against his chest, heart thrumming under your body — the very heart you were meant to stop, and a chuckle escapes your lips. 

“What is it?” He raises an eyebrow, and you shake your head. 

“Why did you help me?” You draw circles on his chest, “you had every reason not to,” your fingers traced a line across his neck, “I even held a knife to your neck,” 

“And that was very attractive,” and you roll your eyes, “what? I like a woman who takes charge,” 

“Oh I know,” you chuckle, your lips pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “but I still don’t understand — you had every reason to distrust me, we barely knew each other, and yet—“ 

“You were still the girl I fell in love with that night,” he murmurs, “I just knew you were something special and when I saw what you were doing — trying to uproot corruption, I knew I was right. And I knew I had to make you my duchess,” 

“Well I’m not your wife yet,” you tease, the words barely out of your mouth before he’s got you pinned under him, “Toru—“ 

“Now, I told you I was going to seize my fate when I saw it,” and he kisses you, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your body, his touch filling you with warmth in return, “and I see it right in front of me,” 

“And what does it look like?” you smile against his lips, as he leans down to kiss you again. 

“Bright.” 

“Is it just me or do these paparazzi lights get brighter and brighter each time?” you rub your eyes as the two of you slide into your car for the night, the driver setting off towards your home. 

“I don’t know, I was too busy being blinded by my gorgeous wife,” and Satoru’s hands are all but under your dress, sliding up and down your sides, before one cups your cheek, “did i mention how incredible you look, sweetheart?” 

You hum, “about a million times,” your fingers slide against his shoulders until he’s practically lying on top of you against these leather seats. 

“That’s a million times too little — you look incredible, sweetheart. This dress was made for you,” and his lips taste as sweet as his words, your fingers sliding into his snowy locks while his slide against your bare thighs, “and I can’t wait to take it off when we get home,” 

“You’re going to take it off now if your hands slide any further up,” he draws a shiver from you as his hands do just that, daring further up your thighs, “Toru—“ 

“Don’t worry, the partition is up and it’s just you and me, sweetheart,” and he’s sinking to his knees on the floor, as his hands slide up your dress, “just keep your voice down, don’t want anyone hearing my wife, do we?” And his lips are grazing your inner thigh, his smirk against your skin, “good thing I relieved you of those pantyhose, huh?” 

“Toru,” you whined, as his fingers parted your thighs, and he could see your all too soaked panties, a damp patch and the fabric nearly translucent while it clung to your clit, “please—“ 

“So needy — and now that mouth of yours is being as honest as this one,” his lithe fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties to expose your cunt, “all this f’me? Been like this since our make out earlier? Surprised I didn’t see your cum drip down your legs,” 

And his words make you squirm, “Satoru, I swear to god—“ and his lips kiss your clit, as two fingers tease at your entrance, gathering your pre on his fingertips. 

“You don’t have to call me god, Princess — just Satoru is fine,” he murmurs as his lips close around your clit, as his fingers work inside your walls, a delicious stretch that draws a pretty gasp from your lips, your head falling back against the leather headrest. 

The sounds of the squelch of your cunt and the slurping of his lips against your clit rang in your ears — your fingernails digging into the seat as your other hand clamped over your lips. 

“That’s it, just like that, Princess,” his tongue darts out to  drag circles around your clit, while his fingers find the spot that makes you see stars. 

“I’m—“ you manage, before you’re cumming around his fingers and lips, your toes curling as you do, head back against the headrest. Your eyes find him to see him looking all too perfect even ruffled, as his lips were glossy with your release, tongue darting out to clean it, before he licked his fingers one by one. 

“And you were worried about the paparazzi noticing your missing pantyhose,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, a smirk against your mouth, “let’s hope no one saw that,” 

And there’s a sharp rap on the window, “Sir and madam? We’ve arrived,” and his lips quirk, as he adjusts your clothes, cleaning your smudged lipstick with his thumb, as you reach up to wipe his lips where the lipstick had gone. 

“Shall we celebrate my win properly?” He opens the door and slides out of the car, holding out his hand for yours.

“As we always do?” And your fingers find his, as he presses his lips to the back of your palm. 

“Always, Princess.” 

“Are you ready yet, Princess?” Your Prince’s arms slid around your waist, his lips already at your neck, as his ocean blues met your gaze in the mirror, “how lucky is our kingdom to have such a lovely future queen? And how much luckier am I to have her as my wife?” 

“We do not know if the people will approve of me still, Toru,” you murmur, eyes shying away from his, your fingers finding the infinity around your neck, “you promised me forever, but will they grant it to us?” 

“Do you have such little faith, sweetheart, in your future husband?” His fingers find your chin, tilting it upwards to meet your gaze, “I’ve already done the impossible — I charmed you over the last two decades haven’t I?” 

“More like wore me down,” and he pinches your cheek, before he presses a kiss to the affronted skin, “re-defined the long game,” and he kisses your nose, “and stole my heart and soul while I wasn’t looking,” 

“I never steal,” he smiles that same smile that was emblazoned in your memory all those years ago, when he emerged from the woods with not a unicorn, but a baby fawn he had frightened from very same thicket, “I only take what was given to me,” he smiles, “and you willingly handed over your heart the moment you let me into your life,” 

“What was I thinking?” you murmur, cupping his cheek, “now I’ll have to deal with the politics of a kingdom for the rest of my days,” 

His lips curl widely, as his lips find yours, a heat that simmers into passion and then into simple love, “I promise, in exchange, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you the happiest you’ve ever been,” 

“The happiest, huh?” you murmur, foreheads pressed together, “that’s a tall order, so you think you can do it?” 

“I know I can,” he smiles, his arms pulling you impossibly closer, “because I’ll never trying to make you happy, Princess.” 

“You’re far too happy with this arrangement,” you say through the door, arms crossed as you pressed your back against it, “I don’t want to come out,” 

“You agreed to this, c’mon sweetheart, you’ve taken countless pictures of me—“ 

“You’re a model — it’s literally your job,” you glare at him through the door, “I’m behind the camera — not in front of it,” 

“But you’re just as beautiful in front of it as you are behind it,” and you can hear his pout through the door, “if you really don’t want to, sweetheart, I won’t make you—“ 

And the door opens, your lips curled in a pout as you emerge in a cerulean gown — the same color as his eyes, the very same that widened upon seeing you. 

“Was this necessary?” you squirm in place, as he bites his lip, eyes raking over you, “Toru—“ 

And he’s in front of you in an instant, his arms winding aaaaaaaaround your waist, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I’ll mess up your makeup,” your breath catches, so his finger brushes against your lips and presses it to his own lips, a little of your lipstick sticking to his lips. 

“Toru,” and his lips quirk at the nickname, “why do you want to take pictures of me?” 

“Because, I want pictures of you that are just for me,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your wrist, “because I’ll never have this moment with you again, but I’ll have these pictures with you,” 

“And when do I get pictures that are of you and just for me?” And he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Anytime you want,” he murmurs, “we have all the time in the world, don’t we?” 

Time — that was the one thing Satoru Gojo always lacked. It felt as if his whole life was an hourglass, waiting for the sand to run out — and the one time it came close, blood seeping like sand through his neck, he was able to turn it on its head, until time was on his side agai.  

He wasn’t sure if time was on his side now.  

He could only see the winter sky above — flecks of white he could think were snow but never be sure if that was his vision going blurry. He couldn’t feel anything — but he heard the all too distant squelch of his blood against the ground, the sounds of footsteps, the feeling of his body being lifted, a smile still on his face.

He was going home — the one person who always made his world right side up — the only person who could catch the sand that slipped between his fingers and hold it between warm palms. He forced his body to keep running — to keep going, the flow of cursed energy may have come from the stomach and his brain may be able to power his reversed curse technique — but that didn’t compare to his will to make it home — make it to you. 

“Toru! Satoru!” he couldn’t will his eyes to open, only managing the barest flutter of his eyelids, “it’s okay, Shoko’s got you, I got you,” you murmur, a soft brush that must but your lips. 

Love was always the most twisted curse of them all — and he knew it had always been a curse to love him. Anyone drawn into his orbit seemed only doomed to fall around him — whether it was by their choice, his choice, or fate’s choice. 

Fate. That was a word he never had put a lot of stock into. Suguru always said there was a certain order to things — sorcerers were made to defend humans, and that was our duty. He had replied that fate was an excuse for people too afraid to challenge the status quo. 

Maybe Suguru took that too seriously. 

When Suguru defected — Satoru knew something had to change — he couldn’t let others go even when they had that blue spring. The time that he had stayed frozen in — even as everyone else left, he still lived in those moments, and so he barely lived in the present at all. 

Not until you had shattered his self made prison. 

And it wasn’t without difficulty. 

He told you so many times that it was dangerous to love him, it was foolish to love a person like him with a constant target on their back because inevitably the target would shift to you. And he didn’t want to live in a world without you — but he could choose to, as long as you were the one who would live. 

But you were steadfast in your love, roots cracking through concrete until he was covered in your ivy, entangled so deep that there was no escape—because one look from you had stolen his reservations out from under him. Because loving you was as simple as breathing — it just was. 

“I would want you to curse me — in every life.” 

That’s what he told you the night before this battle — because he knew if he didn’t make it in this life, maybe he could be with you in the rest of them. But how many days would it take until you couldn’t remember the sound of his laugh, the smile on his lips, the way his face looked — because he always feared the same about outliving you. He would only want to outlive you, if only because he didn’t want you to have to bear the pain of outliving him. 

Love was twisted, he thought — as your lips brushed his, he could hear you whisper sweet nothings, falling on deaf ears, but heard all the same — once one found it, they cannot live without it — until they have to. 

His eyes flutter open, and he sees the blurry image of your face, scarlet smeared on your face, as his hand shakily lifted to your cheek, “I love you, sweetheart,” he manages barely a whisper, “I’ll see you again, I promise.”

Maybe he did curse you in the end — because your souls were bound together in existence — to fall into each other’s orbit and live together happily in every lifetime—

Your fingers gently shut his eyes closed, as tears streamed from your own — except in this one. 

“Is it really a curse to meet you again?” you had murmured that early morning, as dawn peaked over Tokyo, and his lips brushed against yours, “sounds like a blessing,” 

“You know that blessings often wear disguises — and words like that always carry a price—” but his lips curl, “but if the price is to meet you and fall in love again and again, I suppose I could pay it.” 

“‘Suppose?’” you repeat, and he laughs at your immediate pout. 

He kisses away your pout, as you slowly melt into his kiss, “Y’know I’d pay any price to fall in love with you again, sweetheart”

You smile, “Just stay with me in this one, that would be enough.” 

Did other lives matter when this was the only one he had fallen for you in this life? He wanted to stay with you here — in this moment, in this time — he wanted you in every life — not just all the others. 

And he vowed that he would— his fingers twitched— 

He would love you in this life too. 

✧ a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this one!! i had a lot of fun writing it. it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hey, i enjoyed it. although i questioned my writing ability a lot while writing it lmao

✧ taglist: @gojolova4eva, @xxemmarldxx, @gojolvrr34, @lilbrubby, @jaixxxsc, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @elaemae, @gojonegs, @captain-shittykawa, @sillyrabbitreads, @akumicchi, @satorustorm, @equikaz, @imaginativeghorl, , @dhoranbolt, @strawmariee, @catsgomurp, @that-goth-bisexual, @fushitoru, @dazailover1900

[eilidh-eternal]

“Single mom x Johnny” this, “single mom x Simon” that.

I want single dad Johnny/Simon and the single reader next door who is helplessly in love with them and their kid.

18+ MDNI

You never wanted kids. You’re convinced you would turn out to be just like your parents. That’s probably why you don’t have a ring on your finger or any sort of boyfriend or partner to speak of.

You never wanted kids.

Until Johnny goddamn MacTavish.

You’re in love with the man who always walks his little girl to school every morning, crooked pigtails flouncing with each too-big step she takes to keep stride with his long legs.

Madly in love with the way he smiles down at the tiny girl, even tinier hand held firmly in his as she dodges cracks in the pavement, and the shriek of her laughter when he lifts her by the arm, swinging her through the air to the next chunk of concrete.

Hopelessly in love with the broad shoulders he hoists her up on, little legs swinging with arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head, blowing stray hairs of an overgrown mohawk out of her face.

Dangerously in love with the way he lets her cling to his front when it rains, like a little koala wrapped around this tree of a man who holds an umbrella in one hand and has a firm hold on her with the other.

Happy. He looks so happy with her. Like she’s the sun he orbits; the star that lights up his world.

You’re just a comet who occasionally passes them by.

——

Johnny never thought he would be doing this alone.

He’s so far out of his depth. Never even had the chance to dip his toe in the water before he was shoved into the churning ocean.

He still remembers every life-altering detail of that day. The phone call after the 16 hour flight back to base. The frantic drive to the hospital. The impossibly tiny, wailing little girl, all alone in the social workers office.

She’s all he has left of her. Of them.

His best friend. His partner in crime, for more years than he can remember. The person who understood better than anyone who he is, saw him through his darkest moments, and loved him with her whole heart.

Gone.

But he smiles for her. Because of her. Isobel is the light in the abysmal darkness that he’s drowning in. The buoy he clings to when he can no longer hold his head above the surface. She’s everything. His past, his present, and his future. And she’s sitting at the table refusing to eat her dinner.

“’s not right.” Her little nose scrunches, turns up at the meal, and she pushes the bright green plastic away, matching miniature fork sent skittering across the table by the force of it

Johnny lowers his own fork and swallows his frustration with a sigh. “‘s yer favorite. Wha’s wrong with it? ”

Her brows knit together as she studies the tray, little creases forming between them and she slumps in her booster seat. “Mommy didn’t make it.”

No. She didn’t.

Johnny was never the cook in the family. That was all her. She’d chased him out of the kitchen after he’d burnt one of her expensive pans and he was thus forth relegated to chopping, and occasionally peeling, duties.

“I know.” His chair scrapes against the floor when he pushes back from the table, moving to crouch down where she sits beside him so that he’s at eye level with her, and he pulls the fork and tray back towards her. “But mommy wouldnae want ye to go to bed hungry, aye?”

“I wan’ somethin’ else.” He watches her little bottom lip jut out, brows still pinched and face twisting into a stubborn pout.

“Wha’d’ye want?”

“Quesadilla.” She drags out the ‘ee’ sound, emphasizing her clumsy command of the foreign language in her already thick Scot’s accent.

He enjoys Mexican food. Loved the tacos Alejandro and Rudy shared with him and his team during his time in Mexico. She’d learned how to make them for his birthday.

Nowhere in Glasgow made anything like it. Not then, and not now.

“I cannae make a quesadilla, leannan.” Her little lip wobbles, eyes turn glassy, tears already welling up in the corners and threatening to spill down chubby cheeks. She sniffles, drags the backs of her hands across her eyes, and Johnny feels what’s left of his heart splinter, another little piece of it withering away to nothing with each fat tear that rolls down and collects at her chin. He unbuckles her from the booster and gathers her into his arms as he stands up, taking her with him to sit in his own chair at the table.

Her little shoulders shake, hiccuping with each muffled sob against his shoulder and tiny fingers fist the material of his shirt. “Miss ‘er,” she warbles, and his arms tighten around her small frame.

“Ah know, leannan.” More hiccups. More tears that seep through his shirt and brand his skin.

You should be here. You’re supposed to be here. With her. With him. With them.

“How ‘bout we go down to the shops? Ye can pick whatever ye want for dinner. Dinnae think they’ll have quesadillas, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ ye like.” She lifts her head from his shoulder, tips it back to peer up at him with bleary eyes and sniffles. Wipes her hand across her eyes again.

“Cheesy noodles?” It’s thin and reedy, poor little throat still tight and full of grief that he knows feels impossible to speak around.

“Aye, we can get cheesy noodles.” He brushes an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking the unruly curl behind an ear where it probably won’t stay. Just like her mum’s. So much like her mum. She considers him, his offer, and toys with his shirt.

“And sticky pudding?”

“Whatever ye want, leannan.” She really shouldn’t have something so sugary right before bed but he doesn’t have it in him to deny her. Is just glad the tears have stopped. That she’s willing to eat, even if he has to bribe her with junk food and sweets. He sends her to put her shoes on while he cleans up in the kitchen and grabs his own shoes and keys.

——

He’s there.

He’s standing in the pasta aisle with his little girl in the buggy, smiling at the way she makes grabby hands at the dismal selection of boxed macaroni, and he pulls one down from the shelf to hand to her. She inspects it, turning it this way and that way, pointing to something on the packaging and saying something that makes him laugh.

You’re frozen in place, jar of pasta sauce halfway to the basket in your other hand, and you can’t move because the sound of his laughter causes something in your brain to misfire. Causes the electrical signals between neurons and synapses to jumble together and sets your nerves alight. You think you might really be frozen, body unwilling to move an inch away from where you stand now, by your beautiful neighbor in the middle of a goddamned Tesco, until a little voice is addressing you.

“Hi miss neighbor!” Johnny’s head whips around and when his gaze lands on you it feels like your stomach’s turned to lead. “We’re havin’ cheesy noodles f’r dinner!” She holds up the box in her hand and kicks her feet excitedly.

You’re currently kicking yourself for making what you’re sure is an expression closely resembling that of a fish out of water. Mouth agape, brows raised and eyes slightly widened in surprise. When your mouth finally remembers how to move you smile at the little girl waving her box of noodles and powdered cheese in the air. “Hello, Isobel. That sounds like a lovely dinner.”

His brows knit together, one of them quirked at a curious angle. “And how d’ the two of ye know each other?”

Isobel’s foot connects with his thigh and his head jerks back around. “She’s our neighbor. She gave me the tablet,” she whispers a little too loud, cupping a small hand in front of her mouth. He turns back to you with the same jaunty brows and a quirk to his lips.

“So ye’re the one responsible for the wee heathens late night sugar-induced marathon.”

“M-marathon?”

“Aye, she was bouncin’ round the house all night, the little devil.” He ruffles her hair and she swats at his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” You don’t really know what you’d been thinking when you’d given her the Tupperware full of sugary confections to take home after she’d spent the morning helping you root around in the flowerbeds in front of your home. She’d been watching out the window for hours until she was suddenly right next to you, asking what you were digging for.

“‘s alright. Ye’ll just have to make up f’r it.”

It’s your turn to pinch your brows and tilt your head in confusion. “Make up for it?”

His lips part in a full, genuine smile, like the ones he gives Isobel, and your leaden stomach suddenly feels like it’s lodged in your chest, full of butterflies and other fluttering things you don’t dare to name.

“Oh aye. Reckon ye owe us a dinner since ye’ve skipped right to dessert.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[theoldtaylors]

The Tortured Poets Department Prologue

At this hearing I stand before my fellow members of the Tortured Poets Department With a summary of my findings A debrief, a detailed rewinding For the purpose of warning For the sake of reminding

As you might all unfortunately recall I had been struck by a case of a restricted humanity Which explains my plea here today of temporary i n s a n i t y

You see, the pendulum swings Oh, the chaos it brings Leads the caged beast to do the most curious things

Lovers spent years denying what's ill fated Resentment rotting away galaxies we created

Stars placed and glued meticulously by hand next to the ceiling fan

Tried wishing on comets. Tried dimming the shine. Tried to orbit his planet. Some stars never align.

And in one conversation, I tore down the whole sky.

Spring sprung forth with dazzling freedom hues Then a crash from the skylight bursting through Something old, someone hallowed, who told me he could be brand new

And so I was out of the oven and into the microwave Out of the slammer and into a tidal wave How gallant to save the empress from her gilded tower Swinging a sword he could barely lift But loneliness struck at that fateful hour Low hanging fruit on his wine stained lips

He never even scratched the surface of me.

None of them did.

"In summation, it was not a love affair!" I screamed while bringing my fists to my coffee ringed desk It was a mutual manic phase. It was self harm. It was house and then cardiac arrest.

A smirk creeps onto this poet's face Because it's the worst men that I write best.

And so I enter into evidence My tarnished coat of arms My muses, acquired like bruises My talismans and charms The tick, tick, tick of love bombs My veins of pitch black ink

All’s fair in love and poetry

Sincerely, The Chairman of The Tortured Poets Department

[nasa]

A Geminid meteor streaks across the sky as the Soyuz TMA-19M spacecraft is rolled out by train to the launch pad at the Baikonur Cosmodrome on Sunday, Dec. 13, 2015, in Kazakhstan. Credit: NASA/Joel Kowsky

Make a Wish! How to See the Geminid Meteor Shower

Every December, we have a chance to see one of our favorite meteor showers – the Geminids. To help you prepare, we’ve answered some of your most commonly asked questions. Happy viewing, stargazers!

These radar images of near-Earth object 3200 Phaethon were generated by astronomers at the National Science Foundation's Arecibo Observatory on Dec. 17, 2017. Observations of Phaethon were conducted at Arecibo from Dec. 15 through 19, 2017. At time of closest approach on Dec. 16 at 3 p.m. PST (6 p.m. EST, 2300 UTC), the asteroid was about 6.4 million miles (10.3 million kilometers) away, or about 27 times the distance from Earth to the Moon. Credit: Arecibo Observatory/NASA/NSF

What are the Geminids?

The Geminids are caused by debris from a celestial object known as 3200 Phaethon striking Earth’s atmosphere. Phaethon’s origin is the subject of some debate. Some astronomers consider it to be an extinct comet, based on observations showing some small amount of material leaving its surface. Others argue that it has to be an asteroid because of its orbit and its similarity to the main-belt asteroid Pallas.

All meteors appear to come from the same place in the sky, which is called the radiant. The Geminids appear to radiate from a point in the constellation Gemini, hence the name “Geminids.” The graphic shows the radiants of 388 meteors with speeds of 35 km/s observed by the NASA Fireball Network in December 2020. All the radiants are in Gemini, which means they belong to the Geminid shower. Credit: NASA

Why are they called the Geminids?

All meteors associated with a shower have similar orbits, and they all appear to come from the same place in the sky, which is called the radiant. The Geminids appear to radiate from a point in the constellation Gemini, hence the name “Geminids.”

A Geminid streaks across the sky in this photo from December 2019. Credit: NASA

When is the best time to view them?

The Geminid meteor shower is active for much of December, but the peak will occur during the night of Dec. 13 into the morning of Dec. 14, 2023. Meteor rates in rural areas can be upwards of one per minute this year with minimal moonlight to interfere.

What do I need to see them?

As with all meteor showers, all you need is a clear sky, darkness, a bit of patience, and perhaps warm outerwear and blankets for this one. You don’t need to look in any particular direction, as meteors can generally be seen all over the sky. If you want to take photographs, check out these helpful tips.

An infographic based on 2019’s meteor camera data for the Geminids. Credit: NASA

Do you have any advice to help me see the Geminids better?

Find the darkest place you can and give your eyes about 30 minutes to adapt to the dark. Avoid looking at your cell phone, as it will disrupt your night vision. Lie flat on your back and look straight up, taking in as much sky as possible.

A Geminid streaks across the sky in this photo from December 2011. Credit: NASA

What will the meteors look like?

According to Bill Cooke, lead for the Meteoroid Environment Office at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, “Most meteors appear to be colorless or white, however the Geminids appear with a greenish hue. They’re pretty meteors!” Depending on the meteor’s chemical composition, the meteor will emit different colors when burned in the Earth’s atmosphere. Oxygen, magnesium, and nickel usually produce green.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[evermoredeluxe]

In Summation by Taylor Swift

At this hearing

I stand before my fellow members of the Tortured Poets Department

With a summary of my findings

A debrief, a detailed rewinding

For the purpose of warning

For the sake of reminding

As you might all unfortunately recall

I had been struck with a case of a restricted humanity

Which explains my plea here today of temporary insanity

You see, the pendulum swings

Oh, the chaos it brings

Leads the caged beast to do the most curious things

Lovers spend years denying what's ill fated

Resentment rotting away galaxies we created

Stars placed and glued meticulously by hand next to the ceiling fan

Tried wishing on comets.

Tried dimming the shine.

Tried to orbit his planet.

Some stars never align.

And in one conversation, I tore down the whole sky

Spring sprung forth with dazzling freedom hues

Then a crash from the skylight bursting through

Something old, someone hallowed, who told me he could be brand new

And so I was out of the oven

And into the microwave

Out of the slammer and into a tidal wave

How gallant to save the empress from her gilded tower

Swinging a sword he could barely lift

But loneliness struck at that fateful hour

Low hanging fruit on his wine stained lips

He never even scratched the surface of me.

None of them did.

“In summation, it was not a love affair!”

I screamed while bringing my fists to my coffee ringed desk It was a mutual manic phase.

It was self harm.

It was house and then cardiac arrest.

A smirk creeps onto this poet's face

Because it's the worst men that I write best.

And so l enter into evidence

My tarnished coat of arms

My muses, acquired like bruises

My talismans and charms

The tick, tick, tick of love bombs

My veins of pitch black ink All's fair in love and poetry

Sincerely,

The Chairman

of The Tortured Poets Department

[kizzer55555]

DPxDC: Jarro Adopts an Alien

Ok, so Danny has a space obsession and a protection obsession (I headcanon that as a halfa, Danny has two obsessions like all Halfas do which makes them unique to other ghosts.) and so while he can get his fill protecting people in Amity, he struggles with his space obsession. Sure, he can look up everything he can about space and the stars on the internet. He can stay up until 2 am looking at the stars (who needs sleep? He’s a ghost, he can go days, or even weeks without sleep if he wants, same with a lack of air or food.) but it’s just not enough. He craves to learn more, see more. Just as Dani gets that itch to travel, Danny wonders. What would it be like to see the stars up close? Are they really as hot as a dragons fire breath? Hotter!? Or maybe they are so hot they are cold. What does it look like to see plasma dancing across the surface, or touch the gasses of Jupiter? Does Pluto have ice caves like the far frozen? How many planets are actually out there? What about Mars. There’s a whole species living there with a language and culture Danny can’t even fathom! Oh what he wouldn’t give to talk with martian manhunter or Superman. 

And what’s stopping him from exploring this? He can fly. He doesn’t need air. He can go intangible if it gets too hot and he’s practically immune to the cold. He wants to touch a space rock! See if they are smooth because there is no wind or earth to rub against them and erode the surface. He wants to see what planets they come from. What minerals they might have. He wants to know if there are currents in space. All of these things are right there just above the atmosphere. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a quick peek. So he does. During a particularly bad day Danny flies as fast as he can until the earth’s gravity looses its effects. Until his hair is floating as of it’s in water even more than normal. Until he can feel when breathing no longer became a choice (still not necessary though). And it…was beautiful. To be surrounded by space. To see the earth like this. Pictures just didn’t do it Justice. He flew across the solar system and as he passed planets, he longed to fly through them. To search every crevice and learn their secrets. But he had a bigger prize in mind at the moment. The crown jewel of their universe. The closest star he could find. The sun. 

Danny was mesmerized. The plasma really did dance across the surface. Like a never ending performance of science and beauty. There were sparks that few in arcs. Danny flew down and played in them, making a game to see how many he could fly under. His ghost core purred in delight. His obsession had never been more satisfied. He spent hours out there. Just exploring what his solar system had to offer. So when he returned? He couldn’t just forget. Pictures and online science theories had nothing on the real thing. He wanted to explore some more. So he did. Every night he would go out and explore the cosmos. Flying from planet to planet. (Either the Martians were still around and Danny made friends with them, even learning their language, or he just looks at their ruins to learn as much as he can). And with both obsessions now being filled, Danny is more settled. More confident. And he can focus better. Everyone notices the change, even his teachers. They just think that he’s paying more attention to his education now. He’s even better during his ghost fights. 

But Danny can fly awfully fast. And he soaks up information even faster. Soon his trips take longer and longer as he flies further out. Sometimes he can barely make it back in time for school. And he can't go every night. Sometimes the ghosts won’t wait for daytime so he has to make sure the town will be safe in his absence. Although he’s been able to take more trips ever since Valerie joined the vigilante ranks. But still, he’s getting farther and farther from earth each night. Until one day he’s visited every planet, every star, every comet or debris in their solar system. Which would be fine. He could deal with that if that was all there was. But it wasn’t. Danny saw the stars just out of reach. He saw places the Milky Way was leaning towards. He saw just the barest hints of new solar systems with new planets and stars. And he knew of legends from lanterns that they had posted online. Heard tales from some scientists that have made better telescopes. And his core itches. It aches to know more. See more. Yet he can't go further. And this puts him in a sort of depression. Suddenly he’s back to his old self. Lagging behind. Distracted. Zoning out. Crashing into a few more buildings during ghost attacks. Yet he tries so hard to be satisfied with what he has. He can still fulfill his obsession…it’s just more like chewing on a granola bar rather than eating a decent meal. He’s almost becoming lethargic. 

So one day he goes to Frostbite to see if there’s anything he can do to lessen the effects. But the yeti just takes one look at him and gives him the infimap. And suddenly Danny is in a whole new universe in seconds. The planets are purple. The stars are blue. He’s pretty sure there are furry blob-like creatures living on one of those planets. And suddenly he gets that itch, but holding the infimap, he knows he had time, so he lets himself go. 

And for a while it’s good. great even. Since he can’t keep asking the yetis for the infimap, he goes over to Wulf to see if he’s up for an adventure. Most of the time he is and they go exploring the galaxies together. And then Wulf had the genius idea of teaching Danny how to make portals. It took a long time but soon, he could concentrate the surrounding ectoplasm enough to weaken it and pull. It took a while since Danny didn’t have ecto claws and would have to use his pure will. But this would allow him to follow his obsession anytime, anywhere. So it was only a matter of time. And once he figured it out? It was like something was unlocked. Danny had never before understood how Ellie could travel so much. But now he did. That feeling when you discover something new. When you add to your reservoir of knowledge. When the patterns in the universe just click. There is nothing Danny could compare it to. And to explore that whenever he wanted? It was so freeing. While Wulf sometimes still joined Danny’s adventures, Danny did most of his explorations by himself. 

He meets various planets and aliens. So many different cultures. He learns thousands of languages. Tries all kinds of foods (and it’s a good thing his ghost self has an iron stomach and he’s basically poison resistant.) even found a whole comet where blood blossoms grew. (Which he most definitely avoided). And wasn’t that fascinating? To find out they were from space. 

And then during his travels one day he met a space alien starfish. 

It was actually a funny story. A meteor shower was about to attack a planet of talking blue monkey creatures with 4 arms. Danny immediately started diverting them and was soon joined by some lantern corps (which his inner fanboy wanted to talk to so bad.). And a tiny starfish in a…Robin uniform? Oh and the starfish could apparently do martial arts which was interesting to watch him karate chop a meteor. He could also talk directly into Danny’s head which the halfa found more interesting. So they got to talking and apparently his name was Jarro. He seemed to be helping the lantern corps as a ‘proxy from earth’ to make better use of his skills. 

Danny would run into Jarro a few more times. Sometimes he was with Lanterns and sometimes he would just be exploring the galaxies. They started forming a pretty strong friendship and Danny would start seeking out the starfish alien to travel with him. He knew all kinds of space facts. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. When they explored, sometimes Jarro would just stick to part of Danny. Wrapped around his arm, his waist, sometimes just sticking to his back like a strange backpack. But they always had fun.

So Danny was happy. He could fulfill both obsessions and got a space pal. Everything was great!

Until the GIW caught him. 

It would probably be the worst day of his life.  There was an explosion in the lab. Something set up by them after they realized Danny frequented that place often. So they set a trap and blew it up. Thankfully, Jazz was at college during this but both his parents were home. When the explosion went off, Danny had tried putting a Barrier around them all. It took everything he had to maintain it. That’s how they found out he was phantom. Danny had a few moments where his parents said they accepted him but he couldn’t hold the barrier for long. His parents said that they loved him and then everything went green. He woke up in a lab, tired and injured. His only saving grace being that he remained in phantom form. And he was determined to remain so. 

Danny’s time at the GIW was a haze but eventually, he managed to escape. Bleeding, and tired, and still recovering from the burns in the explosion, Danny made a portal straight to Amity. Only when he got there, it was a ghost town. Streets were empty, buildings were boarded up. Even the Nasty Burger was deserted. As for his house, there was nothing but a crater left and some scattered debris. Danny looked everywhere but there was no one. No Jazz. No Sam. No Tucker. No one. and he was tired. And everything hurt, and he needed a friend. Someone he could trust. So in a daze he made a portal and tried to just project safe. Safe safe safe. Somewhere he knew he would be protected. And so Jarro got a surprise when his space buddy suddenly popped out of a green portal, bleeding green and clearly passed out. He didn't know what to do. He didn’t know how to help him. But Jarro knew someone who would. 

So with a speed never before seen from a tiny starfish, he flew to earth. Bringing his friend straight to his father. Because surely batman could help!

And with his appearance, the green blood, the knowledge of space facts. The lack of wanting to talk about where he came from (and the nightmares crying out for his parents). This is how the bats became convinced that Jarro brought them an injured alien. 

[mizushidokoro]

"Ryuurin, Hanpatsu, Tsugai no Ryuusei" -- the incantation for World Slash, and an epitaph to Gojo Satoru.

In JJK, incantations are supposed to boost power of a particular technique. When Sukuna used World Slash to kill Gojo, he imposed a binding vow that allowed him a single-use activation without the requirement of a hand sign, in exchange for using incantations and directing the attack for all subsequent uses.

In this post I'll examine the specific phrases in Sukuna's incantation and argue that each phrase of the incantation corresponds to an application of Gojo's Limitless technique. Then I'll briefly relate this to the binding vow requirements to argue that Sukuna's promise to never forget Gojo for the rest of his life is one of the conditions of that binding vow.

1. "龍鱗"

First, "ryuurin" (dragon scales) describes the basic application of Limitless, a strong defensive barrier like the scales of a dragon. This one is the most obvious, hinted at by Sukuna's words at the beginning of the fight, telling Gojo he plans to "strip away his scales." More will be said about the dragon references, in the discussion of the third phrase.

Less relevant but still interesting - there’s also a Buddhist reference here, according to this forum post:

At surface, straight value, it is just the literal scales of a dragon. The word can also be used to mean "a large quantity of things". Ryurin is also a metaphor for the power/authority/influence of heroes and of the Heavenly People (the residents of the Japanese version of the Devaloka, where devas and gods reside. Just a heavenly realm, basically.) Lastly, Ryurin means a dangerous condition/situation or a dangerous thing. So. For Sukuna, its basically 'dangerous divine power/authority'.

2. "反発"

Next, "hanpatsu." Hanpatsu means recoil, which is the equal and opposing force of an action. This describes Purple, which is the rebounding damage created by the collision of Red and Blue. At first I thought hanpatsu described Red, because Red is a “repulsing” force. Except “recoil” is not the same thing as repulsion. Another possibility was that hanpatsu described the relationship between Red and Blue — Red as the “equal and opposite” of blue, and vice versa. But we know the two aren’t equal in power, and neither technique is accurately described as the “recoil” or rebounding force produced by the other.

3. "番いの流星"

Finally, "tsugai no ryuusei." A few things here. First, the wordplay and translation. Like ”Ryuurin”, this term references dragons. Here Ryuusei, meaning meteor or comet, is also pun on the word dragon, ryuu (which isn’t novel, see the Japanese word for Pokémon move Draco Meteor, et al.). So a plausible English translation could also be “Twin Dragon Meteors.” Second, how dragons are relevant to Sukuna’s mythology. In Hida, there is a temple Senkoji said to be founded by “Ryomen Sukuna … approximately 1,600 years ago. A central architectural feature of the temple it Dragon Ceiling, a portrait of two dragons painted by Kano Tansetsu on the ceiling of the main buliding. From the website,

According to temple legend, a general of the Sengoku period committed suicide there by seppuku, staining the floor with blood. For the repose of general’s soul, the floorboards were incorporated into the ceiling of the main temple. Some time later, Kano Tansetsu visited Senkoji and painted the dragons on the ceiling. At Senkoji, the objects of worship include not only the main temple and the priest’s quarters, but also the entire temple complex.

According to this Reddit post, the temple’s founding tale describes how Sukuna fought off a dragon god living in the mountain and built a shrine in its place. So — from the fact that dragons are the mythological enemy of the figure Ryomen Sukuna, we may infer that the words of the incantation refer to an enemy or target of the World Slash technique.

What could "twin meteors" refer to other than the related techniques of Limitless, the twin floating spheres Red and Blue?

Another potential connection to Red/Blue rooted in dragon mythology is the tide jewels — the tide-ebbing (a repelling force, like Red) kanju and tide-flowing (an attracting force, like Blue) manju, possessed by Ryuujin, the Sea King.

The final reason I think the incantation refers to Gojo’s technique is because of Sukuna’s explanation in 236 for World Slash — he describes the process of developing the technique as figuring out how to target Limitless with Dismantle. So it makes sense that the incantation to power World Slash operates by describing its target, not World Slash itself.

It also lends significance to the order of the incantation — first visualizing the most generalized application of Limitless (ryuurin), then passing through Purple (hanpatsu) to finally arrive at two separate applications, Red and Blue (tsugai no ryuusei) — a conceptual "bisection" of Limitless into two discrete components.

4. Binding Vows

Isn't this pretty romantic? But wait there's more. We know now after Chapter 255 that in exchange for unleashing the World Slash that killed Gojo without using the hand sign, Sukuna now has to recite the incantation every time (+using the hand signs and directing the attack with his palm) he uses World Slash.

Assuming what I've previously argued is true (the incantation describes Gojo's Limitless), this gives Sukuna's last words to Gojo another layer of significance. When Sukuna tells Gojo he will never forget him, it's not just an expression or a promise, but a statement of the binding vow Sukuna has to make in order to land the killing blow. In other words, the cost of killing Gojo is having to remember him forever, to integrate him into Sukuna's own technique through a verbal invocation that must be made every single time Sukuna uses the world bisecting slash. Yeah, that's pretty romantic.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Sun

beautiful words with "sun" to help illuminate your poem/story

Sunback - having a low-cut back for tanning and coolness—used of an article of wearing apparel

Sunbaked - heated, parched, or compacted especially by excessive sunlight

Sunbath - an exposure to sunlight or a sunlamp

Sunberry - the edible fruit of the black nightshade; also called wonderberry

Sunbird - any of numerous small brilliantly colored oscine birds (family Nectariniidae) of the tropical Old World somewhat resembling hummingbirds

Sunblind - awning (i.e., a rooflike cover extending over or in front of a place as a shelter)

Sunblink - a glimmer of sunlight

Sunbow - an arch resembling a rainbow made by the sun shining through vapor or mist

Sunchoke - Jerusalem artichoke

Sundeck - the usually upper deck of a ship that is exposed to the most sun; a roof, deck, or terrace for sunning

Sunder - to become parted, disunited, or severed

Sundew - any of a genus (Drosera of the family Droseraceae, the sundew family) of bog-inhabiting insectivorous herbs having leaves covered with gland-tipped adhesive hairs

Sundial - an instrument to show the time of day by the shadow of a gnomon on a usually horizontal plate or on a cylindrical surface

Sundress - a dress with an abbreviated bodice usually exposing the shoulders, arms, and back

Sunfall - sunset

Sunfast - resistant to fading by sunlight

Sunfish - any of numerous North American freshwater bony fishes (family Centrarchidae, especially genus Lepomis) usually with a deep compressed body and metallic luster

Sunflower - any of a genus (Helianthus) of New World composite plants with large yellow-rayed flower heads bearing edible seeds that yield an edible oil

Sunglow - a brownish yellow or rosy flush often seen in the sky before sunrise or after sunset that is due to solar rays scattered or diffracted from particles in the lower and upper air

Sungrazer - any of a group of comets whose perihelions are very close to the sun and which are often destroyed by their close approach to it

Sunless - lacking sunshine; dark, cheerless

Sunpocket - solar trap (i.e., a garden or terrace so oriented as to take advantage of the sun while protected from cold winds)

Sunporch - a screened-in or glassed-in porch with a sunny exposure

Sunscald - an injury of woody plants (such as fruit or forest trees) characterized by localized death of the tissues and sometimes by cankers and caused when it occurs in the summer by the combined action of both the heat and light of the sun and in the winter by the combined action of sun and low temperature to produce freezing of bark and underlying tissues

Sunseeker - a person who travels to an area of warmth and sun especially in winter

Sunsquall - a large jellyfish

Sunstone - aventurine (i.e., a translucent quartz spangled throughout with scales of mica or other mineral)

Sunstruck - affected or touched by the sun

Sunup - sunrise

Sunwise - clockwise

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[itsgerges]

[jeeaark]

in a timeline where the illithid invasion never happen, a world where the absolute never existed, what would greygold's life be like? or maybe even lae'zel's? a world where they stumble upon each other without all the destruction around them.

The funny thing is.

Without squids trying to ruin their life, Greygold would have never discovered the power of friendship

Worse even, they'd still be a dispassionate lone ranger with questionable bird ethics surviving the wilderness and living off raw eggs like a weirdo.

Meanwhile, Lae'zel is still a Vlaakith devotee and if they stumble upon each other without a plot to drive them to work together and get to know each other... Bad things would happen! Someone would probably die. Most likely Greygold. But! Lets say. A plot did happen.

Buckle up buckaroos. This train thought went off the rails enough that I had to draw pics. Faster than writing out a 13k+ fic (for me anyway).

Let's say Greygold got the 'steal the githyanki egg ' job from Esther. Let's say they succeeded in sneaking in and out without too much of a fuss (mostly involving cat familiar distractions). And something Unfortunate happens before Greygold could complete the quest, leaving Greygold with an egg that eventually hatches:

And the githyanki child is not your average run-of-the-mill space lad either (Who loves eating raw eggs now too. It's fine. Builds character. Probably) But uh yeah, that whoosh accidentally cosmos-signaled all the githyankis and Vlaakith to which she reacts with a 'Wtf? Did anybody just get Prince of the Comet vibes from that? With a "I love egg" aftertaste? No? Just me? Hrm.... I do currently have a lot of free time on my hands....Fetch me that child. I want to study him like a bug. I'm suddenly feeling... Creatively ambitious with a side case of nefarious today. Might bury an old big secret if that kid is replacement-viable.' Thus search patrols investigate-

And never return.

After the first surprise patrol disaster, Greygold has been putting their danger ranger skills to good use via setting up counter-ambushes for all the constant surprise attacks. Classic "who is hunting who?" ordeal.

Nonetheless, there is more of them than there is of Greygold, so they resort to hiding in the Underdark after realizing the githyankis don't have dark vision and it's more environmentally dangerous than the surface. It is also a fun learning experience for the kid. Search patrols continue to never return. Until-

Lae'zel can't help but notice her mission orders do not add up and her rationality has a mighty need to make sense of it before solving problems with immediate hostility. Meanwhile this has been Greygold's first super tiny dose of kindness involving people interactions in years. Instant crush. Chase Shenanigans Ensue. Until child makes their first hunting trap. Instead of catching food, Lae'zel is captured. It also turns out the over-the-top trap involves sinking sand and a nest of Ankhegs (giant burrowing man-eating bugs). Greygold tries to help Lae'zel. For Reasons.

Something akin to mutual respect is formed. Stuck working together. Get to know each other. Discuss contradictions with mission. Verdigris worms his way into Lae'zel's heart (as much as she loathes his name). Escape the Ankheg nest which had terribly escalated because a giant fire ant invasion decided to overrun the ankheg nest at the same time.

Everyone is covered in bug guts after this.

Something something bond over experience enough to trust and listen to each other's opinions. Short Rest. Negotiate. Discuss plans to investigate Da Truth together. Shenanigans Ensue. Then Bad Shenanigans Ensue. Argument Ensues, resulting in Lae'zel Splitting Off. Verdigris disagrees with this approach and chases Lae'zel in order to bring back. Unanticipated Ambush happens at most inopportune moment. Greygold is Captured.

But they escape. Not before confronting Vlaakith's projection and discovering her plans and secrets thanks to one extremely curious Verdigrisgold (Verdi for short omg so long) with ridiculous super psionic powers.

And then they coincidentally interwovenly meet/save/recruit their bg3 companions anyway because there are no mindflayer abduction to stall certain ill-fated situations from happening to certain Companions-to-be and I need for them to be OKAY. So. Greygold discovers the power of friendship again. But is also now co-parenting a fate-of-the-githyanki-freedom child with Ex-Vlaakith-devotee Lae'zel. How's that for an AU timeline?