#( she'll get over it )

[porcelian]

do you ever get the urge to consume everything? you want to read, write, draw, listen – just experience the world but the feeling is so intense?

[uwps002]

@uwps001

🎔 "I don't need you to hover around me like a satellite, brother. I'll be fine, and you have a date." She didn't mean any offense to Constantine or Hiyori, but she also did not want to end up a third wheel and since there was their first proper chance for a fancy date, it wouldn't have been right of her to hang around anyways.

Still, she was clearly sulking. Céline was happy for her brother, but it did make her feel a little lonely. "Don't worry! Once I have a drink or two I'll be in a better mood."

[tiamatwrites]

Daddy's Little Monsters

A/N: This one is winding up to be Long, so this is probably the best to start with. Sidenote: You're gonna figure out really quickly where our blog name came from with this one, so enjoy that. TW: Swearing included, non-graphic alcohol consumption and violence towards the end, proceed as needed. Just as a heads up: this one is one of the ones that could get dark later on. It's not likely, but there is a chance. We'll do our best to keep on top of warnings for each part.

Edits made 28/11/2024 - Revising story flow and continuity. (Someone forgot the layout of the house (Me, I forgot) - P)

Part 1 - 2138 words

Evelyn’s pov

The car is fucking loud. Somehow, I notice it better in the daytime, when I’m driving at speed for eight hours with my sister bitching in the passenger seat. I adore my car, I do, but Doc is not subtle. Normally that works in my favour, but today? After almost eight hours of highways and freeways and other cars? It’s irking me.  Admittedly, everything is irking me at the moment. Everything from the curls that have come loose and sit around my eyes when I check my mirror to merge, to the brightness of the sky overhead, to the sound of Fiore continuing to have an issue with the upholstery on Doc's seats. 

“So have you figured out where I’m gonna drop you off yet?” I ask, cutting through the new round of complaints about the comfort of the leather seats. As though I had the time to put the seat covers on this morning when she was snarling and spitting and hissing like a feral cat. She pauses in the tirade to glance down at her unlocked phone, Carmine eyes scanning over messages between her and one of Whitebeard’s people, filling her in on the half a dozen fights set for tonight in our desired city. 

She twirls a piece of hair around her finger as if she hadn't just been threatening to skin my car. It’s bright orange as if it’d been dyed with the morning sun, and the dark brown closer to the roots looked like it was growing out, but she’d always been able to turn heads. “I’m thinking the one out in the dockyards. You know, with the warehouses?” Ignoring the almost white golden fox ears sprouting from her head and the nine tails to accompany them. “I remember.” I nod. Of course I did; one of the first fights she’d attended, though just as a spectator, was at those docks. Gramps always spent a decent chunk on gambles when they were hosted there, and Dad had still been trying to get him to quit it when we’d left. “Tell me which warehouse I’m dropping you off at so I’m ignorant. And don’t get caught.” “I’m not an idiot, Slut bag.” “I know, but it bears reminding.” I mutter. “You know as well as I do that it’s one of the favourites.” She rolls her eyes, folds her arms and turns away from me, “Whatever.”

I have never felt more like our father. “Fi, the warehouse?” “Seventeen,” She snaps, sharp teeth bared in mock warning. The drive is quiet from then on, at least for a while.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

We make it into the city, and more importantly to the warehouse, before the sun is fully down. Fiore grabs her go-bag that has all the shit she needs and climbs out silently. Before she can slam the door shut, I grab it and look out at her. She has her tails on display, a writhing mess of fluffy white-silver-grey behind her, and her ears poke up from the loose hair that sits around her face. I know that she’s been picking at her claws for hours, but she won’t let them scratch up the car. “Hey. Kick their asses. Don’t end up in the morgue.” She grins, her teeth all sharp and dangerous, “Of course. Don’t tell me what to do.” I roll my eyes, “Sure Fi, go win some money or whatever.” The door is closed before I sit back up properly, and she is inside the warehouse, probably going to register for at least half a dozen fights, or one particularly brutal one, depending on how she feels.

I leave as soon as she’s out of sight. Longer than I’m meant to stay, but not long enough to attract too much attention.  It’s an easy enough task to navigate my way through the familiar streets, deeper into the city, and then back out the other side again, even in the falling darkness. The houses in the suburbs all almost look the same, the lawns still evenly cut, the bushes and trees all still perfectly manicured.  When I get to the one I am looking for, I’m struck by how familiar it is, how I could almost step out of my car and walk back in time to the days after my graduation. The rose bushes were starting to bud, and the flowers would probably come out soon, the trees had been trimmed and were also starting to flower.  The porch light is off, which means that my parents aren’t home yet, and I honestly can’t be bothered with waiting for them, so I park on the grass, before reaching back to grab my own go-bag, electing to leave mine and Fiore’s main bags for now, and make my way to the ivy trellis.

Climbing the trellis was something Fiore and I only tried once or twice in highschool before we worked out that it was easier to steal the keys and plan to get back once our parents were asleep. Tempting, but not today, I think to myself, looking at the apparently newly trimmed ivy. I push the gate open, walking past the pool and onto the back patio. Dad had decided the foolproof method of us being able to get in would be a key, through the dog door they’d installed for Fiore. She’d been so insulted at the time that she made a point of finding any other way to get into the house, hence the ivy, and accompanying trellis. I reach through the dog door and grab the key, then unlock the back door. I head straight upstairs, the dining room a familiar blur of reds and blacks in the low light. It’s lit by a fish tank, pretty much the size of the wall. I pause. The fish tank is new, filled with what appears to be piranhas. Awesome, Dad had managed to talk Pops into piranhas.  “... what did they do to the turtles?” I murmur, my brow furrowing. We’d had the turtles since we were young, and I’d be beyond annoyed if Dad and Pops had gotten rid of them in exchange for piranhas. I shake off the thought, their tank is upstairs. I turn, walking up said stairs. 

The lounge is the same as I remember, as if it’d been left untouched in our absence. That wouldn’t be all that surprising, actually, dad is just sentimental like that. The turtle tank is there, against the wall beside the stairs. I lean down, peering into it. There’s… one turtle. Mikey, based on the chip in his shell. Odd. I’d have to ask pops about it later, he’d promised to do the maintenance while we were gone. Then I'm onto my bedroom, swinging the door wide open and dropping onto the end of my bed like a lump of rocks. The sheets are clean, scented like something vaguely floral. The walls are still pale teal, the room is exactly as I'd left it. Minus the dust, and the books I'd left stacked beside the desk. Pops hated it. And he’d just have to get used to it again. I don’t bother to do much more than kick off my shoes and pull the blanket from the end of the bed over me as I roll over.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Fiore’s pov

To nobody’s surprise, and especially not my own, the docks smell like shit. I beat my fist on the door until a bouncer answers– he smells like sugar. Donuts. Sharp eyes and purple hair. Odd, but not unexpected in these parts. Not odd enough to be a signature. “What's the password?” he sounds like he could be more bothered to be there, but isn’t. “Let me the fuck in, is the password.” 

He pauses, before slamming the slider for the hole in the door shut. I start to kick it, hard enough to dent, before he opens it again. “What’s the password?” he repeats, sounding vaguely more interested in my presence than before. “Ever heard of Tiamat?” I ask, stepping back and crossing my arms. The tails and ears may look for show, but they do the intimidation tactic well. The man raises a brow, “Haven't heard that name in a while. What’s got you down here?” I make no attempt to hide my growing impatience. “What do you think, dipshit? Let me in or I’m going to kick down this fucking door.” “Alright, alright… Miss Tiamat.” he closes the slider, before opening the door. Tall, didn't expect him to be that tall.

“Right, thank you,” I say, walking inside. Must be one of Big Mom’s boys. It makes sense, given that she runs most of these places. It’s dark inside, as they all are, dimly lit with warm yellow lights. The patronage is nothing to write home about– old men who get off on the violence and the betting, young men who want to prove themselves in the next fight and middle-aged women who want to pay for a rough night with the hottest fighters.

I turn back to the bouncer, “tell me, who’s the best fighter here tonight?” “The best fighter, Miss? Well, for the younger men–” “I’m not looking for a fuck, asshole,” I snap, “set me up against the best fighter you’ve got here tonight.” He pauses, an amused expression on his face. “Very well, Miss.”

I walk away, towards the ring that the patrons had circled around, the sound of flesh striking flesh echoing with the hollering of the crowd. I follow the sound, face schooled into its regular scowl. This wasn’t impressive, compared to the ones I'd seen in Whitebeard’s territory. Haruta had been fucking ridged about that shit, and there’d still managed to be full-to-the-brim venues every time. I slip past a pair of men, peering into the fight. A scrawny looking younger man, and a built-up man, probably in his thirties. Neither look as though they'd be the best of the night, though the older one looks worn, like he does this for a living.

It takes about half an hour until I'm called on– which I spend finding the bar. A bar at a warehouse? More likely than you’d think. I’m two drinks in before a tall, masked man approaches. Muscled, long blonde hair– I’m fighting this guy? “You’re Tiamat?” he asks. “Asked for the strongest fighter here? He’s ready.” Fucking finally. “Great. So it’s not you, then?” I remain leaning against the bar, chin propped up on my palm. “No ma’am. You’ll be against my boss. Eustass Kidd” I raise a brow. “Never heard of him.” “Must be new to the city, ma’am.”

He escorts me to the ring, offering no new information about his supposedly well known boss. If Dad never mentioned it, I'm sure this guy is just up his ass about himself. When I step into the ring, I see the opposition. A monolith of a man, with a– “I’m not fighting a fucking cripple.” “And I’m supposed to fight some mite-sized prissy cunt who’s too big for her damn britches?” I pause for a long moment. Before bursting out laughing. “Oh, I'm gonna kill you.”

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Third pov

The fight begins with a bang. Literally. Kidd hits the floor as Fiore tackles him, and he manages to grab her by the ankle, slamming her into the wooden floor. Once the two are up again, it’s blow after blow. A broken nose on Kidd’s end and a broken rib on Fiore’s. Both are grinning wildly, exchanging one vulgar insult for the other. “You look like your mother half swallowed.” “You look like you dance on poles for a living.” The crowd is laughing as if it’s a comedy show– and the middle-aged women look like they’re taking hits of secondhand embarrassment. Which is fucking hilarious, because Fiore’s pretty sure that was a compliment. Killer’s right up at the barricade, more curious than ever because he can see that his boss isn’t pulling his punches but is intentionally missing vital spots. He can see that Tiamat is doing the same– hitting spots that’ll bruise, visibly. God he wants to leave, this place is full of a vomiting amount of sexual tension.

Fiore manages to get her arms around Kidd from behind, knees in his back so he can’t get her off. He gets increasingly agitated the less he can breathe. So he taps out. 

He. 

Taps. 

Out. 

The crowd goes silent.

Fiore jumps off him, dusting her hands off as if touching the man had disgusted her. Kidd watches her with his usual scowl. “What’s your name?” he asks, rubbing his throat with his flesh hand. “Why do you care?” she responds, a smirk on her pink lips.  “You just kicked my ass, little girl.”

She simply gives him finger guns and walks away.

[blondeaxolotl]

So I like the donkey ears on the reapers, I actually think it's pretty cute.

But may I ask WHY the reapers have donkey ears?

Also I love your feral old man Undertaker Design.

Been giggling at the donkey ears comment for a good while now, that's a first (I love it) They're actually just more long elf ears, it's just one of the lil features grim reapers have that separates them from humans. Since personally I think the only thing that canonically separates them from humans are their green eyes + poor eye sight is boring to me

So I added my own lil twists to make things more fun, not only do they have long pointy ears, but their internal organs, mouths, tongues and blood are purple as well (though, their blood turns green as their eyes when exposed to oxygen). It's just lil things that I think makes them more unnatural y'know, more, alienated. And yeah, ofc they can alter their appearances to make themselves more human and fit in to the crowd easily when on the job (though, they cannot change their blood color, it's the one thing they can't control when it comes to disguises). Unless you're like Undertaker and just alter yourself to look LESS human and more monstrous. RAAHH SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE, it's fun talking about how I view these silly freaks and why I add what I add to them, as a bonus heres a doodle I did because the "donkey ears" comment is so funny to me

[best-of-theworst]

"She'll grow out of it!"

Yea sure! I just had a panic attack because someone put Monster high dolls in barbie clothes. The grass is too sharp under my feet and wind is blowing too hard on my face. Can you guys shut up? You know, there's this thing called "playing quietly", it's cool you should try it! Oh no no no we can't go on a spontaneous walk! I wasn't prepared for that!

[supermariomamafucker]

ty all for the cat advice im sure i can convince my mom to actually do something shes just been particularly miserable and doesnt like me telling her what to do lately. whatever

[seffius]

Trying to teach my mother that Republican strawmen against trans people exist and are malicious on purpose is nail grating work but it has to be done

[thekimspoblog]

This was the moment Kim Wexler became a less aspirational girlboss than Bella Swan.

kim wexler angst

[spirit-x-ing]

Lorelai's Love Life in a Nutshell. ( rejection )

*Gets Rejected*

*Puts up a brave face*

*Goes to her current place of residence.*

*Yells at all the ghostly visitors* ❝To get the F*ck out!❞

*puts up wards to make sure they don't bother her*

*finds empty corner*

*sits down*

*hugs knees*

*tries hard not to cry*

*cries*

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Bianca: Hey, Alex! Have you seen-.. oh, never mind. Alex: Seen..? Bianca: Sorry, I forgot you don’t even have a phone.

Madison: Nice shoes, Alex! Alex: Thanks! I-... Penny: Did your mommy stitch those pwetty flowers on for you?

[giggling] Madison: Y'know there's a spare razor in the girls' showers, right? Bianca: Ewwww.. don’t tell her that, she’ll clog the drain!

Madison: Your sister has space buns like that, right? Bianca: Yep. Penny: How old is she, ten..?

[elation-station]

the town bisexuals are at your door it is time for you to pick a bride

[scoriarose]

Sakura:❓

[nenoname]

mystery shack family my beloved

[llamagoddessofficial]

What would happen if MC was a sea diver? Maybe she was exploring a ship reck and the siren boys bumped into them? How would they react?

Sans: He's much more calm, when she's a diver. There's something about her already being in his territory... rather than meeting her on land and wanting to drag her into the water, he meets her in the water, and needs to not give her any reasons to stop coming to the water. No need to be scary. Just take it slow.

They had a very tender moment at their first meeting. After first sighting one another, they spent a long few minutes just watching each other. In the same way that you wouldn't expect to see an actual orca while scuba diving in relatively shallow water, Mc wasn't expecting to see an orca siren. There was also an undeniable magic to the moment, staying still as possible and holding eye contact with a highly intelligent creature from an entirely different world to your own. When he did draw in, it was slow, mutual studying - she looked at every line and scar, he pretended to care about her equipment so she wouldn't be weirded out by him constantly staring deeply into her pretty eyes. The only physical contact they shared was a single brush of her hand against his (the only part of her not covered by wetsuit) before he left, cautious not to overstay his welcome and intimidate her.

He follows her around but rarely initiates contact. He enjoys 'playing'; showing her interesting things, retrieving lost items, introducing her to new and exciting wildlife and dive spots. He's going to get her to trust him. He just has to be patient.

Red: Y'know those videos of sharks coming right up to a diver for scritches? That's him. Unlike Sans' cautious and slow approach, Red was very Red, and upon spotting her just bulldozed right over to her. She tried to be a responsible diver and not interact at all with wildlife, staying on the seafloor and slowly backing away from him, but Red wasn't gonna let that happen - and what's she going to do, swim away? Cute. She can't outswim him. On their first meeting he squeezed any part of her he could reach before she could pull out of range again (arms, legs, hips,) tapped on her scuba mask, blew bubbles at her, and bit a chunk out of one of her dive buddy's flippers as a warning. He's brazenly flirting.

He 'behaves' when she gives him attention. At first she was genuinely intimidated, but now she treats him like an overenthusiastic large dog. Funnily enough he does genuinely like scritches, especially on the parts of him he can't easily get to, like on his tail and behind his main fin.

He and Sans usually manage to alternate what days they show up to see her, but when they do see each other they frequently get into scraps. Especially if one of them thinks the other is too close. Sans doesn't like Red's forwardness with her, and Red doesn't like a crazed lonely orca being anywhere near his fragile human, but both are unwilling to kill and reveal their bloodthirsty natures. They force themselves to get along... especially when sight of the two giants fighting immediately makes her evacuate the water.

Skull: He was probably living in a wreck she dove in. It's nice and dark, but spacious, and full of interesting trinkets he can collect. On their first encounter, Skull spent most of his time silently stalking Mc in the dark water. She didn't notice him until the very last second; you can imagine the shock and terror at shining a light into a shadowy corner and illuminating a massive grinning face.

She doesn't entirely know what he would've done to her, in the confinement of that wreck, if she hadn't shone the light into his face and startled him long enough to get the fuck out of there. But from that point on, no matter where she dives, if neither Red nor Sans show up Skull will always be there. He makes his aquarium counterpart proud by stealing her things. She doesn't understand why - he gives the items back eventually, so does he even really want them? Is he a kleptomaniac? Is this just a way to get her attention? Who knows. At least he doesn't eat her. He absolutely could; despite regularly diving in groups, nobody ever sees him coming until her kit is already missing.

[backpackingspace]

Okay so with the line "the olive tree where we first met" we have two equal hilarious options.

When penelope was sassily like oh I'll marry you if you make a living bed out of this tree right here! Cue penelope stumbling over odysseus very very carefully digging up the tree "because how else is he going to get it to itacha we can't have a wedding bed out in the open in sparta duh"

Or

2. Penelope, knowing that Helen's suitors would soon be arriving to take over her home for a while. Snuck out and went on her own wacky shenanigan filled journey where she scoped out all the major players. Odysseus caught her spying in an olive tree. And when she got back she told Helen she had dibs on the cutie from itacha.

[chosenoneofdusk]

She watches the other for a moment wondering if she had done something to offend as his daze seemed to go somewhere far away. Or perhaps somewhen far distant now as his words soon showed. Owain was no name that felt familiar to her, but Odin…. Odin held plenty meaning to her. It took her many years (and listening in on her caretakers in the Deeprealms) to know that Odin was her father’s name! There couldn't possibly be any other Odins!

Dropping her act completely, her voice even loses some of its previous bravado. “You knew my father? Odin Dark, correct?” But she knew every story! There was always a set cast of boon companions for each one! “For how long have you known my father?” Maybe she could determine which member of the cast he had been in her father’s stories! But first, she grabs a paper and pencil in between bites to draw a symbol. Her dress covered where it would be on her body, but maybe, just maybe an answer would present itself. "Would you happen to know what this symbol means? Father said it is a symbol of our lineage, so that means we are chosen ones, correct?" On the paper is what she knows to be the Brand of the Exalted.

She reminded him of her father. There were few higher compliments to her! She had managed to impress upon one of his boon companions that she was like him! Gaining back some of her bravado, she begins speaking again. "Hehe, thank you! I strive ever forward to emulate him in everything I say and do as chosen ones!"

[ Sweet Bun Trio ] - A selection of traditional Faerghus pastries, all small enough to be eaten in one delicious bite! The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

Taking a plate of local delicacies, Ophelia makes her way through the crowd, looking for a soul who will share with her. Finding one who looks like the wolfskin or kitsune of her own home continent, she proffers the sweets.

"Would one care to join a heroine in the breaking of bread? A feast of celebration should ne'er be enjoyed alone!" Perhaps she would find herself another student who could tell her of the school and the ones within it. Perhaps even, there were fellow chosen ones much like herself and her father.

"Oh?"

Blonde hair hits his eyes first, then a voice and attitude that follows... and in a blink, Yarne's back to cowering in the fields of war, Risen rising around him. Owain, Cynthia, two of his colleagues, his comrades, his family. It was like the two's personalities mixed - but clearly, more Owain than Cynthia, the heroine talk conflated the two for him.

"I-yeah, yeah, just give me a sec..."

She looked like Owain(Hair colorwise, at least), Sounded like him(ish), and certainly had his air for theatrics. She was... so familiar, yet so different.

"I-I'm sorry, but... do you know someone named Owain? No, no, wait, he goes by Odin now..."

Yarne's jumbled. She's like him. So much like him. But how... how? He didn't have any siblings(That Yarne knew of), no cousins from Emmeryn's side of the family, and Lucina got the blue genes...

"You... kinda remind me of him. We've... been through a lot."

Naga, he was making himself look like an idiot.

Yarne grabbed a tray of his own, sitting down opposite the blonde-haired enigma. What was it with him this ball and blondes causing him to get so jumbled up?