#I am OFFENDED on behalf of that ass

[mexashepot]

A person: *has an ass so magnificent it makes people question their orientation over it* Absolutely tasteless Offi whose orientation is compatible with the sex of the person with that magnificent ass: that ass is atrocious.

[clairecrive]

"Beauty and the Beast"| Alfie Solomons

A/n: I don’t know where this came from but oh well. enjoy <3

MY MASTERLISTS

“You know,” she said cradling his face, “I’ve always found it amusing how you and everyone else compare you to a beast.” 

“That’s ‘cause I fucking am, pet.”

“No, you’re not.” She disagrees while gently scratching his jaw. “You may look a little bearly, I’ll give you that.” 

Playing along, Alfie cheekily bit her finger ‘causing her to giggle. 

“However, if they’d only have the patience of taking a closer look, they’d see how handsome you are.” 

“Nah pet, ya don’t hav to lie to me face. I’m an old man, I can take it.”

“Honestly Alfie, I’m actually quite offended on your behalf,” she scoffed more seriously, slightly leaning away from him. “All these women fussing over Tommy fucking Shelby where you’re literally here. Like hello?”

Seeing as you were actually serious, Alfie settled more comfortably on the chair and looked amusingly at you while you went on with your speech. Claiming how these women supposedly needed to check their eyes because they clearly didn’t know how to discern a good-looking man.

“What’s with this vitriol for old Tommy, eh?”

“I don’t care about Tommy at all. It’s just that I’m always hearing about him,” she exclaimed, eyes wide in exasperation. “His angelic face, crystal clear eyes, and bla, bla, bla.” 

“Didn’t know you spend all this fucking time talking about him, dove,” Alfie said rubbing it in. He had to force himself to not laugh at your offended expression. 

“I do not,” she scoffed. “All the while they swoon over him, I’m thinking about you!”

“Oh, do ya?” He mused.

“Yes! I’m always thinking about how they don’t know what they’re actually talking about. I keep thinking I should bring you up as an example.”

“Then why don’t ya?”

“Because I don’t want them looking at you,” she mumbled under her breath while she avoided his eyes. 

“What now?” But he had heard perfectly. If the big-ass smile that bloomed on his face wasn’t proof enough. He loved watching you squirm and blush furiously, which of course, was what you were doing.

“I don’t want them to look at you,” she whispered a little bit loudly but still bashful as ever.

“Pet, ya know I’m an old fucking man. Ya need to raise your voice.”

“I don’t want them to notice, okay?” She exclaimed loudly this time. Cheeks red in embarrassment, eyes determined for him to argue with her. “You’re mine and I do not share.” She added as if to settle this once and for all.

“Of course, ya don’t, you little minx. Come here,” Alfie chuckled as he pulled you close to him again. Hands on your waist, nose almost touching, Alfie couldn’t help but send a little thanks to his God for sending him such an angel in his life.

“Love how you get offended on my behalf, pet,” he admitted while giving you an Eskimo kiss. “Your opinion is the only one who I give a fuck about, right?”

“I know, I’m just saying,” she mumbled on his lips. “It’s their loss anyway. My man is fine as hell, they could only hope.” 

This time, Alfie couldn’t help himself and he cracked up. “Oh pet, ya have no fucking idea how much I love ya.” 

Without giving her the chance to say anything, knowing she’d probably argue that she was the one who loved him the most, he finally kissed her.

[awearywritersworld]

the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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[heretyc]

Charcuterie Chips [Modern! Barbi x Reader]

I'm in the clear for cancer! 🙏 I had my appointment yesterday and my doctor said I'm 100% in the clear and cancer at my age is quite rare. Plus the type of cancer I was worried about doesn't quite run in my family, so I'm good! The symptoms I had were normal, thank god. To celebrate, I had a long ass nap and made myself a recipe I saw online and thought I'd write a fic about it to celebrate with you 🤗💕

The charcuterie board was invented in France, but seeing as Italy is just as romantic and I'd like to [humourously] think Franco would dislike Frenchies [like myself :O]...well, just enjoy the unhinged-ness that is Bambino.

Daily reminder to give yourself a breast exam :) Check under the armpits!!!

"I'm tellin' ya, this is the fuckin' dream."

The calm air - consisting of frogs, heat bugs and birds - was broken by the "crack!" of a cold beer can, Barbi sitting down in a lawn chair with a pleased sigh as his phone was stuck between his ear and his shoulder. "Murkoff's fucked, I got my lover here, the weather is fuckin' fantastic...I'm just sayin', don't be too shocked if I don't answer the fuckin' phone for the next few days, yeah??" He laughed into the phone, nodding every so often; you were busy putting things onto a sheetpan to really pay attention.

As of late, you've become quite fond of learning how to DIY food items with your special little twist on them. Despite Barbi's growing wealth and his adoration when it came to spoiling you, you still wanted to make your own food items from home. Why spend a fuckton of money on a half-pound Reeses when you can make it yourself, with some crushed up chips in the middle?

After a few moments, you left through the sliding door to outside, carrying a tray; Barbi finished up his phonecall, his flip-flop coated feet crossed at the ankles, his body slack in relaxation as he sipped at his beer. His phone laid dormant on the little table between his chair and the one beside him, clearly put on silent.

As soon as he heard you, he pushed his sunglasses down with a smirk, "Heya, gorgeous. You busy makin' your little...snack?"

He was more than aware of your little hobby; he was supportive, of course...but that didn't mean he wanted to try chocolate coated grasshoppers, y'know?

"Indeed I am," You placed the tray down onto the table, settling down in your own seat. "I learned a new charcuterie board recipe online, I wanted to try and make it."

"...You learned how to make a charcuterie board online?" He raised a brow, his expression one of slight pity. "...Babydoll, you didn't need the fuckin' internet to-"

He cut himself off as he finally had a look at the charcuterie board, a scoff escaping his lips. "...This ain't no charcuterie board."

You were known for your odd concoctions. Sure, he tried your attempt at recreating garlic bread and your recreation of mozzarella cheese, but this? This was too much.

"Yes it is!" You defended; upon the tray were chips with some melted cheese, smoked prosciutto and some dollops of apricot jam. "It's, technically, all of the ingredients put together."

Barbi removed his sunglasses to narrow his eyes at you. "I ain't no damn Frenchie, but I'm damn well offended on those fuckin' frogs' behalf. Baby, what even is this??"

"I told you! A charcuterie board."

"Yeah, a charcuterie board's unloved fuckin' second cousin, maybe," he wrinkled his nose, "This is like if you put nachoes and jam in a damn blender."

"Just try it, Barbi," you rolled your eyes, taking a chunk and placing it into your mouth with a hum. "Smokey, sweet, savoury. Yummy."

Barbi made a face of disgust before taking your expression into consideration. After a moment he sighed, taking a chunk. "Alright, alright. If you insist."

He placed the cluster of chips, cheese, meat and jam into his mouth, waiting for it to taint his tastebuds; instead came a pleasant array of sensations and flavours, his eyes shooting open in shock.

Even with his mouth full of delicacy, he was quick to say, "Holy shit, this is actually fuckin' good!"

He didn't wait before shoveling some more into his mouth, finally chewing and letting himself swallow before he shot you a grin, "What are those, sour cream and onion??"

"Mhhmmm," you smirked, "it adds flavour."

"Fuck yeah it does!"

And before you knew it, the tray was done; he licked his fingers free of salt and leftover jam, "You are a genius, doll. You learned this from the internet, ya said?"

"Yeah," you spread sunscreen all over yourself as you responded, the Louisiana sun packing a punch. You had no doubt the cheese would melt some more underneath this heat. "I also learned how to make homemade Reeses peanut butter cups with banana."

Barbi was silent for a moment as he watched you, until he muttered, "and you're still sitting there, not making 'em?"

Maybe, just maybe, he was coming around to your prowess in the kitchen.

[bujnik]

Long haul flight experience #1

I’ve never been on a plane more than like 6 hours. But we took Lufthansa and goddamn they run a tight ship.

The whole experience was very German. Be on time. Sit down. Follow the rules to the letter (we watched a French couple be absolutely SHREDDED because they put their bag in front of the emergency exit).

Immediately after take off they come around with full water bottles and pretzels, so far pretty normal right? Then about 20 minutes later it’s dinner! By now it’s like 11pm (body wise). Beef or pasta, we get one of each and it’s a full ass meal. Side salad, bread, a pudding, the main dish and sides. Even a little cheese and crackers.

They clean up and I’m finally ready for the lights to go out, but nooo, would you like tea or coffee? After a full tea service they make one pass through and then lights out everyone shut the fuck up. I look around and people are sprawled out like a college common area.

Obviously I don’t sleep, between being upright and the insane annoyance of the bathroom light shining on us every time someone opens the door. But it’s fine. I knew I wasn’t going to sleep but I’m a good person and didn’t play games on my phone. I just sat and stared around for what felt like 26 years.

I made the mistake of setting a timer on my phone for the flight duration. Checking it periodically was torture. I’d wait a long time and think “surely there’s only 3 hours left” just to sneak a peek and it’s still 6 hours to go. I wait even longer, determined to hold out, check again and it had only been 20 minutes. I felt like I was going crazy.

Finally, after living 5 lives there alone in the dark while my husband snored peacefully, they abruptly turn the lights on. I’m offended on behalf of the people of the plane. There could be some gentle announcement first? But no. Wake up bitches, here’s a hot towel.

Coffee service rumbles through and I break my “no coffee on planes” rule because this is a German plane and probably to a higher cleaning standard (don’t tell me if I’m wrong). This coffee is an elixir, I am human again. Then a cart comes by again and it’s a hot bun with some kind of herby cheese inside? Fucking delicious. I ate mine and Mike’s. I am now cured of all that ails me. My shoulders don’t hurt. My head doesn’t feel like a fishbowl.

Then the most miraculous thing happened, when we landed everyone got off the plane in a quick and orderly fashion.

[mysteroads]

So, recently, I made a silly post calling Greek mythology basically fanfiction. To my surprised delight, the myth nerds- summoned by my technical inaccuracy- rose from the depths of Tumblr. This is in their honor. 😉

🗡Homer, furiously storms up Hesiod's house, flings the door open with a bang, and shouts, “You shitty, pedantic, bag of wind!”

🖋Hesiod, who had been peacefully writing right up until that moment: “What?! Who– Homer??”

🗡Homer stomps up and slaps down an open copy of The Theogony onto the desk, jabbing an accusing finger at a specific line: “You ass! You said you wouldn't put this bullshit in your obsessive attempt at mythological genealogy! I ought to use this bloody doorstop of a book to knock the teeth out of your lying mouth!”

🖋Hesiod, now getting mad, leaps to his feet: “I never said that! I said I'd think about it! And I did think about it, and decided I wasn't leaving out a character just because it messes with your headcanon, Homer!”

🗡Homer: “Odysseus only had one son because his family line was cursed by Zeus!”

🖋Hesiod, throwing his hands in the air: “You literally made that up!”

🗡Homer, offended on behalf of his ancestors: “I did not! That was how my Grandpa told the story!”

🖋Hesiod: “Then your grandpa is the only one on this whole gods-blessed country who tells it that way! Everyone else knows about The Telegony!”

🗡Homer, pointing a finger at him: “Yeah, and everyone hates it! Do you deny that everyone fucking hates it?”

🖋Hesiod narrows his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

🗡Homer, triumphant: “Nobody ever mentions it— except people who hate happy endings and nerds like you! You never hear a child beg,” here Homer clasps his hands under his chin and speaking in a mocking falsetto, “‘Papa, tell me how clever Odysseus was murdered by his own son. That's my faaaavorite story ever! ‘Cause it’s just. like. Oedipus Rex!’”

🖋Hesiod, hands on hips, ready to die on this hill: “It doesn't matter whether the story is good or not. I am attempting for as much accuracy as possible, and your grandfather is apparently the only man in Greece who believes Odysseus could shack up with two beautiful goddesses and not produce at least one son!”

🗡Homer scoffs and rolls his eyes: “Circe turns men into pigs. Why the fuck would she want a son? Why would she keep one?”

🖋 Hesiod, face starting to turn an alarming shade of red, sputters: “That’s besides the point!”

🗡Homer, feeling the gleeful vindictiveness of a fanboy with a ship and an agenda: “The point is that everyone would be happier if Penelope and Odysseus lived peacefully the rest of their lives, and Telemachus married Nausicaä! That makes much more sense and is more satisfying narratively. We Greeks have enough tragedies. Let’s have some happy endings!”

🖋Hesiod, who's had enough at this point, decides to go on the offensive and hit a sore point: “For someone who claims to dislike tragedies that destroy a couple's happily ever after, you didn't hesitate to end your Troy story with one!”

🗡Homer, shocked by this angle of attack, rallies: “Achilles and Patroclus were not a couple! They were closer than brothers! Their relationship is deep and meaningful, but that doesn’t mean they were lovers! Why does everyone think they’re lovers?!”

🖋Hesiod, willing and able to be petty: “Well, according to my grandpa, Achilles bottomed. Why don't you add that to The Iliad?”

*From this point, all that can be heard are crashing sounds and language that would make a pirate blush. Later, the two writers were seen together at the local bar, both nursing pints and matching black eyes. Hesiod never does retract his belief that Odysseus had more than one son, and Homer never stops being salty about it. Fandom never changes.*

original post: https://www.tumblr.com/mysteroads/773713270769172480/a-lot-of-greek-mythology-is-fanfiction-but-not?source=share

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

selected moments from orchestra

greeted the two older ladies in the back of my section before rehearsal and one of them asked me "can you fix tile?" and i thought she had said "tire" so i was asking if she had car problems and she clarified "no, can you come and redo my tile grout? i can pay you!"

the other older sectionmate said with more than a little alarm "why are you asking her to do that?!" to which the first said "well, em's like a tomboy! she looks like she can fix anything!" 😭😭😭😭

i swear the second lady was trying very hard to decide between being offended on my behalf or laugh out loud LMFAOO like no worries bestie. this is quite possibly one of the most affirming things ever said to me

principal oboe saw me as she walked in (she stopped in the middle of giving a salsa lesson last week because she saw me in passing and T-posed at me) and apologized for trying to rope me into the salsa lesson (i would have joined had i not literally just gotten out of a meeting with my advisor and wanted to decompress i.e. Go Home) to which i was like nahh man it's fine i was just genuinely happy to see you to which she was like aww!! 🥺

when concertmaster was ready to tune principal oboe wasn't looking at him so he called her name in a very sing-song voice and me and viola friend lost it

we worked on the second movement of the dvořák again and i was looking up at a part where the seconds are one of the few moving things underneath the famous EH solo because. i was NOT moving my ass until tita conductor told me to move it

she looked up from her score at the same time i was, locked eyes with me, saw i was looking up at her already, and beamed from ear to ear at me 😭😭😭 i could not resist smiling back 😭

tita conductor told the winds to bring some call-and-response element of the music, "like those parrots on facebook reels," to which everyone in the orchestra must have given her a genuine What The Actual Fuck, Girl? look, so she elaborated "in my spare time i am on facebook watching parrots singing at each other." tita, my beloved, do you see how this begs more questions than it answers.

concertmaster's antics during rehearsal are genuinely so entertaining. he is normally so well-behaved and he does do his job well but he has the mischief of a youngest sibling to whom not enough attention is given.

when tita conductor's back is turned working with another section he looks straight at me and does an interpretive dance to their part with his eyebrows

today when tita conductor's back was turned to him he turned around and lowered the stand of the players behind him while, i kid you not, sniling so sneetly. i really wonder how his stand partner keeps a straight face because i sure as hell can't

when we switched from the fourth movement of the dvořák to the grieg concertmaster stared warbling the tune the firsts had in the first of the dances, to which tita conductor turned a genuinely delighted look down on him as she switched out her score on her stand

after rehearsal the second violin who was moved to the firsts greeted me with "em! my principal!" to which i was like "you are a first violin now though!" and she replied "you're still my principal!" 😭 i don't think that's how it works love 😭

me, associate principal viola, ex-second, and concertmaster were standing outside the hall chatting when tita conductor came outside, saw us, stopped in her tracks, and began rummaging for her keys as she asked "do you need the room open?" off our answer to the negative she asked "just hanging out?" and then smiled at us and trundled off.

when she returned she slid into the group and asked concertmaster and i to make new master copies of the mendelssohn (previous users had overmarked them to the point of illegibility, which associate principal viola had been complaining about for ages)

as i was finding it in my folder, i accidentally showed tita conductor my 7-page list of spots and she made an expression of such euphoric glee that concertmaster said "let me see", leaned over, and shoved his face into my folder, and ex-second violin asked her "what did em do?" to which tita conductor said "em is a principal second sent straight from the heavens to earth" let's cool it there just a bit, girl 😭😭😭

presently the concertmaster, associate principal viola, and i were left outside the hall to review my spots and see how heinous my fingerings were

concertmaster said "i'd go straight for fifth from first" to a part i had directed to shift to third before fifth and i had to be like. My Guy You Went To A Conservatory For High School.

and then he kept suggesting 4th finger extensions and saying "well i can do it and my hand's small" to which i had to be like. buddy. hold up your hand. look at my hand against yours. do you see how all your fingers are half an inch longer than mine. tita conductor was on the floor

[lesbiandanhowell]

Sam reacts to: Dan and Phil are MEAN GIRLS

- I am so proud of them for this somehow?? Like their game was so good that someone else wanted to adapt their game and soooo glad to know they get money for it.

- Dan saying Phils best feature is "his annoying personality" was said with SO much fondness.

- The first question about their 2009 meet literally scared me I won't lie, I was afraid of what level of honesty we were about to get.

- Phil admitting he was nervous meeting Dan, I WILL SOB DONT MIND ME

- "I'd go to poundland with Anthony Padilla" WE KNOW DAN STOP TELLING US

- Phil making gay jokes about Dan is so funny, considering Phil knew all the gay thoughts...

- "It's hard being this pretty" OKAY YES PHIL OWN IT YOU ARE HOT AND STUNNING AND I AM SO GLAD YOU'RE FEELING CONFIDENT

- Phil immediately looking at Dan after saying Cunt, he wanted that approval SO badly omfg

- The fact they argue over who should win on behalf of the OTHER ONE, whipped as fuck mate

- I want to argue that Phil didn't say his year with Dan was exhausting because of Dan, but because of all the stuff they went through together.

- My first thought for Phil's dumbest thing he said was: 26 + 5 = 29

- Phil talking about Dan having Daddy Issues WHAT YEAR ARE WE LIVING IN THIS FEELS UNREAL

- Dan wearing shorts >>>>>>>>

- Where are Dan's curly curls, his hair looks less curly in this video :((

- Phil owning his fat ass, GOOD FOR HIM

- I get so genuinely offended when Dan makes fun of Phil, like I want to protect them and anyone being mean to them makes me feel bad stop it.

- Dan reading the card and instead of looking at the card as well, Phil just fixates on Dan's face, okay.

THIS VIDEO WAS SO FUN. Phil is coming into himself so much with this latest revival I feel like, he is so much more sassy and confident. I truly adore this new era and I am endlessly sad tomorrow is the last video sob.

[cultkinkcoven]

are we just gonna ignore how jewish ppl said not to mess with lilith and that u used a racist ass font or

Ignore? No. Understand and take into account? Definitely.

I’ve already made a very long post about the topic of Lilith being closed to Judaism, so I won’t waste your time with an explanation I’ve already provided and you’ve probably already read. If you haven’t read it and you want to know more, here are a few posts where I talk about her in more detail:

If you are Jewish and/or know of a Jewish person who feels offended by my personal practice then I’d be more than happy to hear them/or you out. But if you aren’t jewish, and you don’t have real world examples of these “jewish people who said not to mess with Lilith”, (Jew witches? Or people of the Jewish religion? Because Jews wouldn’t encourage anyone to work with Lilith… or Astaroth… or Azazel… or Stolas… because they are demons - according to that religion - and… not God. So… yes, they probably would tell me not to “mess” with Lilith… because that would be a sin ???)

-then I’m not entirely sure why you feel comfortable speaking on the behalf of Jewish people.

and idk what you’re referring to when you say a “racist ass font” I have no context for this.

[markboyblue]

First Encounter.. (2/4)

When TSB arrived at the shop and entered pretty much immediately, he started looking around for Marek. It took him about 10 minutes to find him. Upon finding him, he just stood there, observing.. That was definitely Marek... TSB didn’t notice the person that was with Marek yet, so he ran up to him and hugged him. “You're okay!!” he shouted slightly, but he was immediately pushed away and now being growled at. Marek had turned around and looked down to TSB, who noticed that Marek was taller... And some other things seemed off about him. His eyes were… Orange? And he seemed emotionless... “Wh- Why’d you do that?”, TSB chuckled nervously. “I don't like being hugged.. Nor touched...”, Marek hissed back at TSB, his voice filling with disgust at even the thought of physical contact… As he realised who it was, Marek groaned. “Oh. It's you…” TSB raised an eyebrow, confused by Marek’s mood and demeanour.. Not only was this different, his clothes looked different as well… He looked as if he was ready to kill, and his eyes… ‘Why are his eyes orange? His eyes are a mix of blue, purple and red, but not orange… His tail and wings aren’t there either he usually shows them, what is going on??’, TSB’s mind raced. “Yeah, it’s me… What happened to you? Why are your eyes Orange???”, he asked, approaching Marek again, but all he was met with was yet another growl. ‘Okayyyy, he REALLY doesn’t like people close to him… Noted.’, TSB thought to himself. Suddenly, someone else spoke up. “Zero, we can leave, I got everything I wan-“, the person stopped themselves from saying anything more as they noticed TSB. Soon, they noticed SMG4, SMG3, Mario and Tari as well, quickly putting on a smile. “Oh my, you must be Zero’s friends...” While SMG4, SMG3 were getting flashbacks from the WOTFI 2021 at the sound of that name, Mario raised an eyebrow, confused. He pointed at the person who was seemingly accompanying Marek. “Who the hell is this dinosaur?” Tari suddenly spoke up: “I know who that is. They recently talked about you on the news...” “Is that so?”, the person asked, continuing to smile. “You still watch the fucking news???”, SMG3 said as he shook himself a little, being dragged from his thoughts. He shook SMG4, to get him back to reality as well. Tari crossed her arms nervously. “Yeah, I do. You’d be surprised what else you find out when you watch the news..” “Yeah, yeah, whatever, tell us who that is!”, SMG3 replied, rather annoyed. The person next to Marek seemed to thoroughly enjoy this silly little interaction. TSB noticed and immediately got the ick, quickly growing to dislike this person… He felt as if they may have done something to Marek. “Well..”, Tari spoke. “It’s Quinn Wojcicki… The new CEO of YouTube.” SMG4’s and SMG3’s eyes widened. “WAIT, THAT MEANS-“ “Oh why yes, I am Susan Wojcicki’s child.”, Quinn cut them both off as they stretched a little. “That’s why deez old ass dinosaur legs looked familiar!”, Mario blurted out. Quinn just raised an eyebrow at him in annoyance. “Is he… Always this… Stupid?” Quinn looked up to Marek, who simply gave them a nod of approval. “EY!! Only I am allowed to call him annoying!!”, SMG4 shouted, crossing his arms, offended on behalf of Mario. TSB, standing in the very middle of this conversation, suddenly turned to Quinn and Zero with a slight glare. “What did you do to Marek?” Quinn looked back and forth between TSB and Zero. “Me? Oh, I did nothing… Zero came back willingly.”, Quinn spoke as they smiled. “He’s helping me ou-“ “With a job he’s never fucking enjoyed? With a job he was always forced to do? A job he thought he was created for?? You’ve got to be fucking with me, WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, TSB knew exactly what Quinn was talking about… He knew what Marek was helping them out with, and he also knew Marek HATED that job and that it had left him with many regrets and scars. TSB got so furious, he lunged straight at Quinn, but Marek was too fast. He grabbed TSB and slammed him against the wall without a second thought.

Next Part..

Previous Part..

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Julie Kicks Saz's Ass

Here's a quick thing. I definitely should be doing work and will return to doing so. But I needed to get this out of my head. Also unofficial voice claim for Saz. I think Saz would sound similar to Tracy Chapman's singing voice. The original writer and singer of Fast Car for those who may not know. (Completely unrelated it's just been something on my mind).

Have another fight scene. I was gonna do some studying into some more fight styles just cause I wanted to but me busy. So we gonna wing this in standard narwhal style.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @liv-is (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

"You're getting really good at beating Elliot's ass." Julie praised, a slim finger sliding beneath the fabric tied over her missing eye.

Saz huffed breathlessly. The bear morpher slowly rising to full height in acknowledgment. The compliment proves more as a statement of truth regarding the deer morpher's awkward position. Elliot's face one with the ground. Arms flailed out awkwardly. And ass sort of in the air. Proof that even in a forced slam to the ground they had decided to practice on, that he'd resisted until the very end. Though it really looked like he was embracing the grazing nature of the animal he took after. Even with the deer morpher appearing more like a billy goat with both busted antler stumps protruding from his skull.

A groan finally tore through the deer morpher's throat. Eyes from the fellow morphers following his body collapsing onto its side.

"I know my suffering is like solving world hunger to you, but I know I deserve a turn to watch you suffer."

Julie couldn't help but to grin, "A turn? I've beat you less but worse than Ian has." She nudged Elliot with her foot.

Saz's brows scrunched at that information, scratching softly at her mustache, "Maybe don't admit that right in front of me."

Julie looked over to the irked bear morpher, quickly apologizing. She knew Saz and Ian were having a difficult time getting along. She didn't need to make the process more grueling than needed. A bit of slime oozed from her palms.

Elliot rolled away from the antagonizing foot. Hissing softly at a random pain that shot through his knee.

"You don't think Saz could beat you?" Elliot said, genuine disdain and disbelief making it difficult to distinguish whether that was a question or an accusation.

Deer and Hagfish stared at each other. Hagfish thought. Carefully. Silently. Twirling one of her braids around her finger.

"There's always a chance she could right? But everyone knows I fight to win."

Elliot seemed more offended on Saz's behalf than the bear morpher herself.

"I buy a round of slurpee's for everyone if you can win." Elliot rose to his feet with a grunt, grass stains littering his clothes.

The bear morpher chimed in.

"Elliot, how the hell am I gonna beat someone who can beat you?"

Elliot gestured to Saz, "Easy. The power of friendship and your gut instincts."

Saz stared blankly at him. Grumble rumbling in the back of her throat. Partially slipping past her lips. Never had she wanted to beat someone's ass so intensely for blind faith in her. The bear morpher didn't think the slurpee was a good enough reward for the pain she'd endure.

"Please?! Free slurpees! Free!" Elliot clasped his hands together, giving her the best doe eyes he could manage.

She grunted softly and glanced at Julie. Realizing the woman was laughing. She was doing a poor job at disguising it. Shoulders shaking with sharp intakes of breath.

"It's good practice anyway. Let's do this." Julie said after her laughter calmed.

Saz nodded hesitantly and put up her guard. Watching Julie closely. Julie tossed off her jean jacket and shook out her limbs. Julie crouched down a bit, both of her forearms in front of her face. Both called out ready and watched each other. Both unmoving for an unnerving amount of time.

Julie shuffled in. Quickly closing the space between the two. Her palm shot out, fingers curled in. The bone of her palm knocking Saz's block straight into her face. Saz cursed at the stunning shock of pain. The force of her own fist hitting her face splitting her lip. The bear morpher needed to regain her composure. She needed to get the fuck out of the hit zone. She was learning just how good Julie's reach was.

Hagfish morpher throwing another palm strike to Saz's cheekbone. Saz's head whipping at the force. The bear kept her wavering block up. Reaching out quickly to grapple with the fellow morpher's arm. The sound of Elliot's cheers making her ears ring. Or maybe that was from the two hits to the face. She wasn't thinking about that. Instead her thoughts went to how hard it was to grab the woman.

Julie's block remained strong. Slime oozing from her pores the more Saz touched her. Genuine gay nervousness and the stress response of being mid-fight helping her. The bear morpher quite literally couldn't get a grip. A very important skill in the bear morpher's fighting basket. The bear morpher had to take the risk.

Saz dropped her guard completely narrowly dodging an actual closed fist punch that just might've had her seeing gods. Saz wrapped her arms around Julie. Using as much of her clothing as she could as a barrier. Practically squeezing the woman as tight as she could.

Julie wheezed at the initial squeeze. Fighting her urge to squirm in the bear morpher's beefy grasp. The slime oozed faster. Seeping through her clothes.

She took her own gamble. Wedging herself closer into Saz's hold. Slipping her arms free with ease. Her palms rocketed upwards, slamming into Saz's chin. Some of Julie's slime coating the bear morpher's scruff.

Saz's teeth slammed together at the impact. Tears brimming in her eyes from the pain radiating from her mouth and face. A roar of agony sounded out from the preoccupied morpher when Julie's fist went painfully into her side. Her other hand sloppily reaching out to push the woman off of her.

The hagfish morpher's slimy palm making direct contact with Saz's nose. Saz's head rocked back with the force.

"Holy shit! Saz let her go! Let her go!" Elliot screamed out to deaf ears, panicking.

Julie squirmed in the death grip now. The pain seemed to have made Saz grip tighter. In some wild state of semi-conscious rigor mortis.

Saz raised Julie as high as she could. Her own sweaty and now fellow slime soaked shirt rose up her stomach. Once Julie was face to face with her, knowing she had little time before that slime made her impossible to hold, she bashed Julie's skull with her own with no remorse. The force pushing the escape artist out of her arms.

Saz groaned in pain in short growls. Backing away from Julie as pain radiated from her face and side.

Julie touched a slimy hand to her forehead. Hissing softly at the tender patch of skin she knew she'd have a bump on later.

Elliot waved his arms wildly on the sidelines. Staring at his battered friends. Well, battered friend. Julie was pretty well off in comparison. The hagfish morpher wasn't standing down until this fight was over either.

Julie kept her guard down. Watching the bear morpher sway drunkenly on her two feet. The morpher's eyes swimming in tears as they put a shaky block back up. Julie swept in. Surprised by a surprisingly fast fist knocking a gasp from her. Julie's fist finds Saz's previously punched side again.

A roar of pain sends fine droplets of blood flying. Julie takes her opportunity once again palm hitting the bear morpher's now exposed throat.

Saz falls forward with a gasp. Wheezes and soft growls intermingle as she attempts to catch her breath.

Julie looks over to the shocked deer morpher, "You better get your friend something more than a slurpee. I'll take care of her while you take your walk by yourself."

Elliot jogged over to Saz. Worry overrides the pain in his knee.

"Holy shit Julie."

Julie shrugged, falling to her knees to rub the broad back of the morpher still struggling to catch her breath.

"I told you I fight to win, Elliot."

[recurring-polynya]

Bleach Returns Day 7: Always by your side / Betrayal / History

Got the trifecta on this one, baby, but it wasn't that hard, because Kubo loves packaging these three things together (if you allow interpreting 'history' as 'long personal history together', which I do).

Anyway, I'm never not thinking about Ichigo and Renji's first fight, and for a long time, I've been thinking about what happened immediately after Byakuya, Rukia and Renji returned to Soul Society, specifically that Rukia had to be extracted from her gigai by Squad 2 and then thrown in a holding cell and I am sure B didn't stick around for all that, which makes this the first private conversation Rukia and Renji got to have in 40 years.

| ao3 | ff.net | 2225 words, rated Teen for cussin' (tbf they both had a lot to cuss about)

How many Onmitsukidou operatives does it take to get one soul out of a gigai? Renji wonders idly to himself. There is no punchline. All of this is one big joke, but certainly not the funny kind.

“This would probably go a lot faster if we could take her down to one of our medical units,” the Squad 2 spook who appears to be in charge of this shitshow says, sidling up to Renji. “Sir.”

“Sure,” says Renji. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have clearance to accompany us, sir, but--”

“Then, no.”

“I could go fetch our Vice-Captain, if that would reassure you.”

“Go ahead,” Renji replies, calling the man’s bluff. Dealing with that blowhard Omaeda would really put the icing on the clusterfuck this entire night has been. On the other hand, it’s 2am, and even though the only part of this poor ninja’s face he can see is the eyes, he can tell how badly this guy does not want to have to go wake up his awful boss.

Renji makes a mental note to make sure all his subordinates know that he’d much rather be woken up at 2am than to catch wind later that they tried to start shit with some other squad’s vice-captain.

Fortunately, Rukia, whose timing is impeccable as always, manages to finally part ways with her horrible bootleg gigai, drawing in a huge breath of air with a loud, raspy gasp.

“How much soul fixer did you take?” one of the other spooks asks her pointedly. “That stuff is terrible for you.”

Rukia tells the guy to blow it out his ass, and Renji’s heart skips three beats. For the last few hours, he’s been studying her, watching, listening, trying to figure out if there’s anything of his Rukia left in her at all. The only thing that’s seemed familiar was that charade she put on at the end, acting all high and mighty and offended on the behalf of her noble brother. It’s been 40 years, but there was something in her posture, the resonance of her voice…classic tells of Rukia doing a bit. Maybe she wasn’t doing a bit, though. Maybe that’s just Rukia-as-Kuchiki. Renji’s spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering how in five realms Rukia would manage to turn herself into a noble. Faking it ‘til she made it was usually at the top of the list, but maybe her Kuchiki self would always have a ring of falsehood to it.

Captain Kuchiki often seems like he is doing a bit, too.

“I want a receipt for that gigai,” Renji announces.

The spook does a full-body cringe, and slouches off, muttering unflattering things about the Sixth Division. Renji doesn’t care. Hard-ass, rule-abiding vice-captain of Kuchiki squad is not a bit. It’s who he is now.

When the receipt comes, it’s actually a petty cash voucher with “GIGAI” written in the “Received” column, but it’s got a mostly legible signature and Squad 2 letterhead, and also it’s two in the fucking a.m., so Renji takes it.

“You need to borrow a pair of shackles?” the spook asks dryly. “Can put that on the receipt, too.”

Renji’s blood stops flowing, just for a second. Rukia is watching him. He hadn’t thought about this. She’s come along willingly up until now. He wishes he could trust her to continue in the same vein, but he can’t, both because she’s not trustworthy, and because the Vice-Captain of the Sixth isn’t a guy who lets his guard down on account of old friendships.

“No,” he says, and Rukia’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly. He jerks his chin at her. “Hands behind your back, if you don’t mind. Don’t need any dislocated shoulders.”

Her face becomes passive again as he casts bakudou number one on her. It’s easy enough that he doesn’t embarrass himself, although with the way this night has been going, it would certainly be no surprise.

A few minutes later, they step out into the night air, free of Squad 2 at last. There’s a breeze, which downgrades the humidity from “insufferable” to “unpleasant”, even just briefly. A thunderstorm was just finding its legs when they left the World of the Living. Renji wishes they would get one here, too, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

The streets are empty at this time of night. Rukia looks straight ahead as they walk. There’s a hollowness to her eyes.

Renji’s not an idiot. Well. He is, but he’s not a fucking idiot. Rukia is not a person who shares her heart easily, but it’s because when she does, she carves off an entire piece and dumps it in your hands, bloody and tender. Why the Hell she would do so for some human kid is absolutely beyond Renji. They only live for about five days anyway and everything they do is absolutely nonsensical. Maybe some of it was that weird gigai. Probably messed with her head. She’ll likely be fine in a few hours. Well. Maybe not fine, but at least worried about the things she ought to be worrying about.

Renji thinks about all the things he had planned out to say to her. He had spent hours rolling them around in his head all through his last weeks at Squad Eleven. Even wrote some down on paper in little bulleted lists, like the study guides Momo used to make when they were at the Academy. He can’t say any of them now. He can’t say them because Rukia boned a routine mission so thoroughly that at least three other squads had gotten pulled into it. He can’t say them because, in his idiotic confidence that there had to be some logical explanation for all of it, that he and Captain Kuchiki would be able to swoop in and make things right for her, that he made both an asshole of himself and lost a fight pathetically, to a child. Finally, he can’t say them to her, because he is the Vice-Captain of the Sixth. And she is his prisoner.

Renji has never been much of an apologizer, and Rukia isn’t a person who requires apologies, but the absence of one hangs heavy between them. He can’t apologize for following orders though. Vice-Captain of the Sixth strikes again.

“You really didn’t need to stand there and glower at them for every second of that,” Rukia says, in a way that sounds like she’s talking to herself, but he knows is directed at him. “You’ve gotta feel kinda disgusting.”

Renji bristles. “What I feel is none of your business. Someone’s in my custody, and you think I’m gonna leave them alone with a bunch of slimy Squad 2 spooks for a single second?”

Rukia stares at him for a long moment. “I just meant that you could have gone to the washroom. You do know your face is covered in blood, right?”

Renji’s hand goes reflexively to his forehead. It feels mostly dried, at least. “Oh,” he says stupidly.

“Your chin, too.”

Renji grinds his teeth.

“It’s fine,” Rukia says lightly. “Impressive, I suppose, to someone who didn’t see how it happened. You certainly intimidated the shit out of those Squad Two morons.” She cocks an eyebrow at him slyly. “You gotta handkerchief on you? Let me out of this bind, I’ll wipe off your face for you.”

He tips his head to the side and regards her out of the corner of his eye. “Not a chance.”

“I had to give it a try,” she sniffs. “It’s not as if you wouldn’t catch me in two seconds if I tried to give you the slip.”

“Give it up,” he warns. “It won’t work on me. I know you too well.”

Rukia falls quiet and he regrets saying it. Forty years of working to raise himself to her level, and it feels like all he can do is remind her where they both came from.

“Renji,” she says, after a long pause, “about that.”

“Forget it,” he says.

She ignores him, just as she always has. “It wasn’t fair of me,” she says, “to grab your arm like that.”

He wishes he had to wrack his brain to figure out what she’s talking about, but the memory of tiny fingers wrapping over his knuckles, her knee jabbing the soft space between his shoulder blades, the sudden familiar weight of her hanging off his back.

Even without her powers, Rukia is still a soldier. She knows pressure points. She had access to his throat, his windpipe, his carotid. But instead, she grabbed his sword hand. A request. A plea, maybe. Don’t do it. Let him live.

She weighs nothing. Her gigai had the strength of a human girl. The only thing staying his arm was the unspeakable weight of their history together.

Time freezes. In Renji’s mind, the human kid’s fingers close on the hilt of his stupid, oversized sword.

Renji sparred against Rukia at the Academy, and they used to scrap as kids, sometimes more seriously than others, but Rukia has always had his back when it really mattered.

If Kurosaki had the least idea of what he was actually doing, he probably could have run Renji straight through, and Renji would have just stood there, his mouth hanging open like an idiot. He keeps telling himself that this was not Rukia’s intent. Maybe she thought better of his battle reflexes. He sure wishes he did. She only expected the kid to run. She probably has no idea how much hold she still has on his heart. Or, y’know. Maybe not. To all of it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Rukia grumbles. “I don’t regret it. I would do it again. I’m just saying that it wasn’t fair of me to ask that much of you.”

“If you think I got my ass kicked as some sort of favor to you, you’re giving yourself a little too much credit,” Renji grunts. “That incompetence was 100% genuine and unfaked, but thanks for the show of confidence.”

“Oh, no, that was obvious.” She sighs and falls quiet.

He wonders what she thinks he would have done, if it had turned out he had any say in the matter. Does she think he would have spared Ichigo? Is this her inscrutable, Rukia version of a thank you? Or does she think he would have killed the kid, that leniency was too big an ask, and she doesn’t particularly hold it against him? Maybe she’s asking him to explain himself. What difference would it make? From her point of view, he has no particular incentive to tell her the truth, only whatever he wants her to hear.

“You…you can’t have worked for my brother for very long,” she finally says in a way that implies she’s not entirely sure of this fact. “You definitely didn’t work for him before I left, did you?”

“I just started,” Renji assures her.

“Well, then, maybe you don’t know him very well, but--”

“I know him well enough.”

Rukia’s mouth hangs open for a second. She licks her lips. “I see.” And then she smiles. Just a small one. Maybe a little bit rueful.

“What?” Renji demands peevishly. “What, exactly, do you see?”

“Just that you know, then. That he hates leaving things half done. That for as cool as he sounded, it probably caused him physical pain to leave Ichigo there without finishing him off.”

“You asked him to,” Renji shrugs. “It was a favor.” Her hand on his sword arm. A dramatic performance of a dutiful, penitent sister. Rukia always knows just the right way to ask for what she wants.

“You probably know that he’s not too generous with favors, either,” Rukia points out. “You could have reminded him that leaving humans with illicitly gained shinigami powers to expire of their wounds isn’t proper procedure.”

Renji doesn’t reply.

“You didn’t though.”

That’s right. He didn’t. It didn’t even occur to him. It should have. But Vice-Captain of the Sixth is still something he has to think about doing, and slipping into the support role on one of Rukia’s grifts has always been as natural as breathing.

Renji can see Squad Six’s gate up ahead. He is so tired. He just wants this night to be over.

“I woulda gone along with just about anything if it would get you to stop digging yourself a grave so deep you were about to break through to Hell, okay?”

She hums in agreement and makes a small nod.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that, Rukia?”

She gives a soft snort. “Yeah,” she says, “I know.”

[dirtyoldmanhole]

>> reads a (very good) fates fanfic that described gunter as "decrepit"

>> gets maybe slightly ironically offended on his behalf

>> ""decrepit'"""

>> decrepit my ass

>> i am going to draw this sixty year old with the most raw sexual charismatic energy that imma get spammed with thirsty inboxes asking me who the fuck this daddy is, f i g h t m e

(ง'̀-'́)ง

[astroboots]

Ngl, the description the protagonist's memories quickly being eroded ABSOLUTELY horrified. But then you had Miguel saying "food worked, huh? Figures" and it felt like such a personal call it I couldn't hold back the laughter. Thank you for this fic!

AAAAH i am so happy you used the word horrified, cause i was definitely trying to give this an eerie horror vibe!!!

My husband was PERSONALLY offended on reader's behalf that Miguel made the food comment and called him rude and I was laughing my ass off.

[wetcatspellcaster]

I deeply apologize for the amount of spam I've just given you. While I'm here I have thoughts:

1. One of my literal writing inspirations doesn't think they're good at writing??????? What type of dark twist of faith is this????????? I literally think about your writing all the time it's so good. I reread it religiously and gain new knowledge. I recent reread the latest chapter of an honest lie and had my eyes opened further to the greatness that was that chapter. I am OFFENDED on your behalf.

Literally you're writing reminded me of my favorite book series of all time, the folk of air, and I was so delighted when I found out you've read it too. (Cardan and pieces!Astarion would think they are the same and shake hands, and then Cardan would be like "anyway so that's why I became a better person" and Astarion would start hissing. Also Jude would break Astarion in half. I'm sorry ik he's like Ascended or whatever but Jude would destroy his ass.)

I say it reminded me of it because you too have such a great upstanding of character, dialogue, and misdirection. Which doesn't mean you lie to the reader, but more that characters make assumptions with the facts given to them, and we as readers have to sort of take ourselves out of their head and view the facts objectively. If you listen blindly to Rose, you will be more blindsided and confused than of you think critically. Like, the idea that beta Astarion actually likes her is Very obvious even from the first chapter but it takes her a good while to really click that in her head because well from her pov it makes more sense that he hates her. GAHH ITS JUST???? UGH. UGH!!!!! ITS SO GOOD

2. I totally plan on book binding Pieces when it's finished. Probably party favors too. Like all of your writing is so good but pieces is so ambitious and it is so rewarding. Stories like this often struggle to reinvent themselves after revelations and the climax (or toward the end of the rising action), but Pieces has managed to keep its identity and change at the same time. While the story is not the same as it was when it started, I'm reading it for the same reasons. And this is doubly hard with dark romance. Dark romance is hard to write because a dynamic like that HAS to have a resolution, whether it be one party giving in or one party acting out. And often dark romances struggle to reach this esolution gracefully, but the direction pieces is going is so good. It's so intentional. I'm insane. YOURE INSANE.

3. I am LIVING for the ACU (astartion cinematic universe) like each story on it's own? Amazing. Lovely. The stories together??? Wretched. Painful. Delicious.

4. I'm happy things went well with your surgery!! Wishing you a speedy recovery.

5. Obligatory take your time with updates, there's no rush. The strong among us shall survive the winter and flourish in the springtime.

Oh God, this got long. Oops! Have a nice day!

hello lovely! thank you for the message, and the extensive tumblr blog peer review 😌😌😌😌 no one is ever going to complain about activity on their blog, we live under the Sway of Statistics :')

unfortunately, either I'm a cesspit of self esteem, or (equally likely) if you were to do a survey of all your favourite fic authors, around 8 out of 10 would express concerns/dissatisfaction with certain parts of their writing. we spend the longest time with our work so that even the things we're proud of become a little taken for gratned, we see all the things we executed different than we planned, and even if we're happy with the final draft the first draft Haunts Our Dreams. I am very happy with a lot of my fic and at this point in this unexpected "oh shit, people like me now" boom I can't exactly pretend it's not successful, but I can and will always see my areas for improvement! I always really love the moment after a project is done where I can go back to the fic and read it again with fresh eyes, and actually appreciate it for what it is! right now, I'm in the trenches lmao.

Though I think the final book fumbled it's execution (I was happy with the 'make each other worse' energy of books 1 and 2, trying to pretend Cardan wasn't a bully wasn't it for me, especially because by that time Jude was on his level), The Cruel Prince is one of my favourite series, so thank you for the comparison!

Book binding is and will always be fine with me, I am very jealous of those with The Skill and still reeling over the idea that anyone wants to do that work with my writing :)

Thank you for the compliment about the development of Pieces and the pacing! I don't read much Dark Romance, but I have noticed some issues in the manga/webtoons I read that seems similar to what you're describing. For me, I'm a big fan of the kind of heroine/villain pairing where everyone's thirsty but no one's moral compasses are budging even an inch, so the people involved have to just glare at each other with lust and hatred, and then go to the privacy of their own home for a morally correct, guilt-free wank lmao. That's the kind of dynamic the story has been serving the whole time, and what it means is that if you ever want them to finally get together, something seismic has to shift - hence the end of Act 2. Luckily for me, I feel like there's room for the kind of interpretation in the Ascendency ending that can give me the artistic license to make that change! It's my genuine hope that people feel sympathy for both Astarion's soul AND the Vampire Ascendent by the end... we'll see soon whether I hit those beats or not lmao.

Idk if I'll do the plot behind Pieces justice yet (I say, hyperventilating in my gdocs) but what I have is an outline I've kept since the beginning, and occasionally elaborated on (I realised a new plot point last night, very exciting times for me) but otherwise stuck to religiously. Some commenters and some wider canon revelations (e.g. the epilogue being released) have not changed it, I've deliberated over doing that in the past but ultimately decided I'd rather have an ending I've planned for from the beginning than swerve and change course halfway through and undermine the delivery! I am hoping, like you say, this will make the conclusion rewarding, because it's foreshadowed from about Chapter 2? It might not be the most perfect or even most original story as a result, but I'm hoping it feels like the groundwork has been laid, and that there's an equal mix of surprises and things people can see coming from the very beginning. It is, indeed, intentional, so that's a nice word to use to describe it, thank you! :)

The curse of concurrent WIPs is a joke I've played on myself. The fact that I had to write a Pieces scene that foreshadows but doesn't ruin the Act 3 conflicts of my canon-playthrough fic is so stupid, I have clowned myself specifically :'))))))

Thank you for the well wishes! Recovery is going well. Idk when updates will happen or with what speed I'll finish the fic, but the good news for readers is I'm autistic, hyperfixated, and an introvert 😌😌 as such, I tend to update things pretty regularly lmao

[mango-yoyo]

also we met on a wednesday?

this is a fun one too!!

it's strollonso with endgame webbonso (bc i like messy relationships lol)

here's the premise: lance and fernando have a good thing going. teammates/friends with benefits, and it both works really well for them.

HOWEVER.

fernando is not over his ex, and it shows. lance has no illusions about the sort of relationship they have, but he's sort of offended on nando's behalf — like, what sort of guy could FERNANDO ALONSO be pining over???

lance, out of the kindness of his heart (and also being nosy) finds out that the guy fernando isn't over is webber (yes, mark webber) and immediately makes it his mission to try and set those two up together! after all, he IS a great matchmaker (he set up his sister, so how hard could it be?)

surprising nobody, it is not as easy as he thinks it is lmaooo

needing moral support, lance drags poor, long-suffering esteban into it (bestie rights!) and tries to make a plan. the main issue is getting access to webber and setting them up together.

who on the grid has regular communication to webber that lance can talk to easily without making things suspicious?

[answer: his adopted kid oscar piastri]

it's really a light-hearted, funny sort of WIP that gets really crack-y sometimes and gets angsty other times, but it's a happy ending (pinky promise!) and a lot of found family where everybody gets appreciated

here are some fun snippets:

After he'd showered and brushed his teeth, he leaned against the doorway and watched Fernando. The room was dim, only illuminated by the bedside lamp. The older man was leaning up against the pillows, on the side that was closest to the door. He had his phone out instead of his laptop, which was a good sign, and he was wearing an old Renault t-shirt and pajama pants, which was also a good sign. He was in a good mood tonight, perfect for the sort of questions that Lance wanted to ask. Not that it would really stop him from asking. He would just think twice instead of once.

and

“So,” he repeated himself, “who’s the guy you're still hung up about, then?” Admittedly, Lance could have been a tad bit more sensitive about the whole situation, but it was Fernando’s fault for fucking his brain out his ears anyway. Lance would definitely feel it on the flight back, just as he liked it. He watched as Fernando froze from where he was sitting up next to him in bed, and realized that he may have miscalculated. Whatever that had gone on between him and that guy might have actually been pretty serious, then. “What do you mean?” The question is flat, more like a statement than a question. Huh. Scratch that. It had been far more serious than he thought.

and

“And there was Mark,” Fernando finally said. Lance stared at him for a moment. The fact that Mark had been the most obvious one but the last person said, said a lot about Fernando's feelings about him. Fernando didn't give anything away, but Lance had a hunch, and his hunches tended to be right. “Mark Webber is the guy you're in love with?” Fernando gave him a vaguely irritated glance. “Not in love with anybody,” he insisted. “Fine, the guy you have feelings for or whatever,” Lance said, waving a hand in dismissal when Fernando went to protest. He was playing a dangerous game by doing that, but Lance was young. He definitely still had more in him. Worst comes to worst, Lance would be feeling the effects of Fernando's fist up his ass instead of just his cock on the flight. Fernando gave him a look that would have quelled any sane human being. Unfortunately, Lance had never claimed to be very sane. “Does not matter,” he said shortly. It clearly mattered a lot.

lol in case you couldn't tell, i have a lot fleshed out for this one and i am very eager to share. it is also very explicit which is both for my own amusement and the ✨plot✨ so it's going to be a fun challenge. if i ever get this done. like all my other WIPs...

but anyway! that's about it, and thank you so much for asking about this, you're the best <3