#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

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @wineyoungie @vduxx @inflatabledinosaurs19 @harrystylesfan2686 @silentmajesticfox @am-the-renegade @certainduckanchor @moons-reblog @scarletrosesposts @th3-audac1ty @darlink-xoxo @ayeputita @nanmiik @namjooningera @hermxssaa @annieleonhardtsbitch @nugget-eater123 @integers @thefunbanshee @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress @luckypeacevoid @kiki17483 @ruttteerr @yourbelloved @heyohalie // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[cator99]

Yesterday I overheard Pins Girl loudly gabbing abt how much time she spends talking to chatgpt which was not a thing I thought people did but she was conveying this information to couchbound ftm because she got upset when it said something fatphobic and wouldn't apologize properly no matter what prompt she gave it and it kept saying "I know you're offended but..." so she repeatedly told it to apologize properly without using the word "offended" but it was like "it sounds like you're offended" I am absolutely bewildered but I'm glad she has this outlet because if she cant redirect this energy towards a non sentient thing then it just gets doled out at the people around her like the time I made a joke in the house chat and used the word "bombed" in a colloquial sense and she got all People Are Literally Dying From Bombs Right Now Tyler and I apologized and she gave me the silent treatment for a week before someone else in the house told me on her behalf that she didnt find my apology sufficiently grovellingand that it was very racism of me to not Take More Accountability for what I said so I wrote a more lengthy apology that was actually very sincere (an old housemate who is black and doesnt like her heard about the issue and took it upon himself to feed me some Pins Girl Appeasing Lines for me to implement as well just in case me trying to Heart To Heart it out with her wasn't enough lmao) and believe it or not that was recieved very much worse lol and that's whatever but the big thing right now though is that I've been contemplating how I'm gonna approach the conversation with the landlord about her recently breaching the lease conditions because yep I've already set that in motion and requested that the conversation stay between us which the landlord is totally game for because she's just about had it with these people the thing it that due to Pins Girl's lack of consideration and foresight she has managed to concoct a situation that when (not if) the landlord finds out, well, its curtains for zoosha. I want to make it very clear that I had nothing to do with this nonsense. It's not that I think anyone should be evicted however I have finally reached housing stability for the first time in my life and am pretty invested in saving my own ass here. The situation was preventable and entirely unnecessary but these people have very early-20s ideas about resisting authoritay even if that means potentially screwing over other broke people. I suppose this is of less concern to her now that she's on government assistance but girl I am working my ass off here not to get homeless again I've had enough

[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.

[thrashkink-coven]

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.

[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.”

[cowbaehawyee]

Ok so I just started playing republic commando right.

Loving it so far. Great soundtrack, fun gameplay.

But the VOICE LINES!!!

So I’m still in the first level, right, geonosis. I’ve never actually played a shooter before, so I’m kinda sucking, but thats why easy mode exists, yknow. A group of the B1 battle droids appear, and we start going to town on them. Me specifically, I go after one specific droid and target him while the rest of the squad (sev, scorch, and fixer for those who haven’t played) goes after the rest. Now this is all fine and dandy, but it took me like, a DOZEN shots to take this droid down. Mind you, it takes ONE to kill them, so you can start to get an idea of just how good I am at this game. Not very much, but like I said, I thought I was doing JUST FINE for a beginner and I was proud of myself for getting one of my first kills.

So tell me why scorch’s INSUBORDINATE ASS turns around and says to me, “Your marksmanship is an inspiration to us all, sir.”

EXCUSE THE FUCK OUTTA ME???

I almost turned around and shot his ass for that!! Friendly fire was on!!! I probably would’ve done it, if i didn’t think I’d miss that too!!!!!

The entire level, they’re all just roasting the fuck out of me, like….

Scorch: “can you die later sir? Now’s just not a good time.”

Fixer: “Your leadership fails to inspire, sir.”

I am your officer!!!! Just because you said “sir” at the end doesn’t mean that out-of-pocket shit you just said becomes respectful!! I am literally offended, both on behalf of myself and my sorry skills at gaming, and on behalf of Boss who has to put up with this shit.

Like ohhhh, your numbers are 07, 40, and 62?? Well that’s just so funny because that’s the amount of credits I’m going to get when I sell you!!!!!!!!!

[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

[airandangels]

Thoughts on The Mandalorian S303, "The Convert"

I forgot this was on last night and I hear it kind of sucks but I'm hoping it will at least not suck quite as bad as episode 3 of The Book of Boba Fett, which made me spit fire. (Am I still angry about it? Yes! At least, I am angry in a banked-fire way, ready to flare up again when given oxygen. It just made me furious that they would make such a wonderful episode depicting the Tuskens as fully-rounded people with a worthwhile, interesting culture and making a statement against colonialism, and then fridge them all. As if Boba didn't have a tragic fucking backstory already, HAVE YOU SEEN IT, IT'S CALLED ATTACK OF THE CLONES)

Anyway I gather it's time for the adventures of Din and Bo-Katan (hereinafter BK [Burger King Kryze]), but mostly not, as for some godforsaken reason a big part of this episode is given over to Dr Pershing, that wormy-looking guy with the big glasses (when have you ever seen someone in Star Wars who wears glasses? he's such an anomaly) who wanted to do mad science with Grogu's blood. Like he wasn't even a mad scientist with flair. Give me the fucking Herbert West of the Star Wars universe or stop wasting my time. I can't really imagine that this is going to feel like it was worth the budget. On we go, though.

Previously on The Mandalorian, there was Werner Herzog. There were mines. BK read a plaque and Din got dunked. BK had to haul his soggy ass out because he can't do anything without getting drowned or maimed.

I like how BK is just sitting there like "much to ponder" while Din gradually revives from DROWNING

how is that little stoup of water going to prove anything? Does it have a special flavour the Armourer is supposed to recognise, like Paeroa water? Mmm. Lemon and Paeroa.

okay, so he didn't see shit, only she knows there's a Mythosaur

Grogu trying to say "This is the Way" like the grown-ups is precious and I want him to do it again.

see the people making this show don't understand that we're in it for the infant developmental milestones

we don't give a shit about TIE interceptors

I am happy to see Din continuing his trandition of never sticking a landing unless Timothy Olyphant is there to see it and gaze at him adoringly

So Kalevala is another of those planets that basically looks like Craggy Island

R5 would like to go back to Tatooine please

I did enjoy the way Din swipped his head over to one side when BK told him "Go right," it reminded me of how I move my head in the car when a part of a song that I like is going to go off.

No! They're blowing up... BK's moping castle.

oh he's started calling her Bo now? seems a bit familiar but w/e

okay it's a big fancy city, I suppose Coruscant or some shit, and now it's the Dr Pershing show, giving a "I was just following orders" speech.

I still can't get over him wearing glasses.

what a wormy-looking little guy.

c'mon I don't want to talk about cloning if I don't get to see clones. Where is Rex? Give us Rex! Give us Temuera Morrison as multiple old-fart clones Tatiana Maslany-style!

Why are people still wearing the fascist-style uniforms, by the way?

and why are people being given serial numbers in place of their names? Are we being told the New Republic is dehumanising?

a mind flayer?

is it just a deep cynicism thing that they are making the New Republic look so awful and hollow and oppressive? As if leaders like Leia Organa and Mon Mothma really didn't have anything better to offer? Because if so I am fucking offended on their behalf

okay, so someone gave you Imperial cookies, again, why do we care? What reason do we really have to be interested in what happens to Dr Pershing? Is this supposed to connect up to something? But you know what? This The Mandalorian. It's not supposed to connect up. It's supposed to be about the leftover, out-of-the-way places and people to whom the changes of regime really didn't mean much - not because they didn't matter at all but because of the sheer distances involved. And Dr Pershing isn't someone who we genuinely know to have been morally conflicted about working for the Empire, like Galen Erso. He's just a wormy guy who tried to hurt Grogu!

"The ethics of cloning are complicated" - I was draining blood out of magic babies

I can't believe they are wasting an entire episode of precious time during which we could be having infant developmental milestones on this drip

I mean the actor is doing his best, but he doesn't have any special charisma. He was convincingly cast in the first place as a wormy little dweeb.

If his research is as important as he says for what? For cloning organs for life-saving transplants, the way he talked about with his mother? Or for draining magic babies' blood to try to make clone soldiers with Force talent?

WHY DO WE HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME ON THIS GUY

I CAME TO SEE A SHOW CALLED THE MANDALORIAN

ABOUT A MANDALORIAN

this is not a bold story-telling experiment this is boring

ugggghhhhhhhhhhhh

boooooooooooooooooooooo

if anyone had a right to hijack an episode of this show for himself it was Boba Fett, not this loser

I would rather just see 57 minutes or whatever of Boba Fett pottering around, doing maintenance on his armour and weapons, training his baby rancor, having a bit of lunch with Fennec and Cobb, taking an after-lunch nap, sitting down to try and bash out another chapter of that book he's been meaning to write...

this episode is so fucking long! It's not over yet and I think it's already longer than the season premiere!

hey so I'm not sure I've conveyed how little of a crap I give about Dr Pershing and this not-really-reformed space fascist gal

yeah you geniuses, trains do generally have an end

is all this fucking worth it to steal lab equipment

see this episode hasn't convinced me at all that what these two are trying to do is worthwile, or that they have a compelling reason (like fanaticism, even) for believing that it is. They keep saying it'll help the New Republic. How? With what?

oh GOD I don't CARE

you lost me, congratulations, you lost me

I have bought Lego sets of this show and you have lost me

there still isn't an official Cobb Vanth minifig, by the way, I've got a Peli Motto but no Cobb Vanth!

this is so bad

this is so weak

this is so boring

Anakin Skywalker didn't ruin his life and kill his wife and massacre Jedi kindergarteners so you could droop around being this fucking boring!

OH BIG FUCKING DEAL YOU BOTH HAVE NAMES

WE'VE ALL GOT NAMES

SOME OF US HAVE GOT CRAPPY NAMES LIKE GROGU

OR ELAN SLEAZEBAGGANO

OR SIO BIBBLE

I wonder how Elan Sleazebaggano's doing after going home and rethinking his life

GIVE US A WHOLE FUCKING EPISODE ABOUT ELAN SLEAZEBAGGANO WHY DON'T YOU

about his struggle to reform from dealing death sticks and make something of himself, trying to turn his life around right on the eve of a war that would change everything

so... she was playing him all the time? for what? what was the point of all the resources deployed here? just to test the loyalty of a totally unimportant cog in the machine?

I mean, why are they doing this whole fucking 1984/One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest shit? Do they think it's deep to be like "What if the New Republic... was actually Bad???"

he keeps saying he was just trying to help but help with what? What specific problem does the New Republic have that he hoped to be able to solve? No one ever articulated with what!!! it's all meaningless!!!

oh the callously bitten biscuit of villainy

what the FUCK did all of that MATTER

FUCKING FINALLY A MANDALORIAN

hi Paz you big fucking side of beef boy am I glad to see you and I don't even particularly like ya

get over here let us smack that ass

I'm sorry

"I have been to the Mines of Mandalore. We all thought it was going to be an arduous season-long quest but it was actually simple pimple. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Really very anticlimactic."

remember when we thought IG-11 was coming back

I have a tube of WATER that could presumably have come from ANY PLANET WITH WATER but okay I guess it's proof

does it have some unique mineral profile? NOT THAT THEY WOULD EXPLAIN SOMETHING I'M INTERESTED IN

well BK you never actually wanted to be part of this and I don't think it matters at all to you but now you are I guess?

WOW THAT WAS A BAD EPISODE

THAT WAS VERY BAD

UTTERLY POINTLESS

NOT ACTIVELY GENOCIDAL LIKE EPISODE 3 OF TBOBF BUT STILL PRETTY FUCKING IRKSOME

[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

[oh-my-damn]

No it’s just weird you go from one white privileged man to another. Pine is the same fold. His shit will air out in time like Chris. CE show you who he was and you and everyone else with your panties in bunch are mad. You chose to ignore it. Blame yourself not him. He did what every other white actor does. He just doesn’t have the smart people around him anymore to hide it.

Like why are we POC so hopped on these white men I will never fucking know. But I certainly don’t expect YOU to understand. White people are not POC friends or allies. No matter how much you scream it from the mountain tops and write it on your raggedy ass bios.

Please stop the fake shit.

Okay anon.

I can't speak on your behalf or on your experience, neither have I tried to.

All I've done is give my perspective, my reasons, my opinions.

Now, respectfully, it is none of your fucking business what my opinions, perspective or reasons are.

I am sharing them on my personal blog because

it's my blog

People are actually asking me for my opinion. A lot of people agree with me on them, too.

Not everyone does and idgaf if they don't. I think that's the whole point of this.

I don't care how you feel about any individual just like you shouldn't care about how I feel, either. And if you don't like my opinions or perspective, then don't read them. It's as simple as that.

I am not doing this to be an "alley", and if that's what offends you, then you must have mistaken what I'm saying. Because I am not saying how I feel to win brownie points or to seem like this white fucking savior running in to protect anyone.

You can fight your own battles and have every right to.

But I have a right to my opinion. And I think it's honestly rude of you to assume that I wouldn't be offended by racism or anti-semitism just because I am not a POC or Jewish. It does offend me.

You can believe what you want, but it does. And it pisses me off when white men get away with whatever they want because they're white, privileged, rich and famous.

It pisses me off when stupid ass young people get away with it too, because they're privileged.

Don't sit behind your keyboard and type shit out to me, acting like you know anything about me. I may be white but that does not mean I am pretending to care about these issues. I do care.

And besides, this isn't just about racism, either. There were also fatphobic statements. There is also the matter of the gross powerdynamic and her lolita-behavior.

There are several layers to this.

But you have no right to tell me I don't actually care or that I'm pretending to. I have friends and family who would be affected by the shit they've said and done and I care about them. So I do care.

And if you don't like me or what I say or how I am, then leave. It's really not that difficult.

[holy-anxiety-batman]

@newyorkcitywater my friend thank you so much for asking!

Firstly, I am offended on behalf of the audience as a whole that we are expected to believe that the dress Claire is wearing when she visits Craigh Na Dun in 1945 is at all the same garment she’s wearing when she arrives in the 1700s. The two are made of completely different fabrics, and they are different cuts.

This is a dress that is fit to her body. The waist is not being nipped in by that belt, the belt is purely decorative. Those darts, while probably not the strongest sewing around, would not be able to come undone without causing visible damage to the fabric. Having likely been manufactured during WWII, this dress would not have been made out of a strong cotton weave, but something flimsier, lighter, and man made. It drapes beautifully, because it is not stiff, and it is not thick.

See the lovely drape here? See how the hem is more opaque than the rest of the dress? This is not a thick cotton shift.

This is.

Secondly, let’s take a logical look at the time, shall we? It is late October, 1945, in Inverness, Scotland. Friends it is cold. Not only is it cold enough to freeze your tits off, it is autumn! As grateful as I am that we have since left these sensibilities behind, it would not have been appropriate to wear this dress on a very cold mid autumn day in the 40s. We could say she decided to wear it having been inspired by the flowy white dresses she saw the coven wearing that morning which, fine. Doesn't explain why she packed it in the first place, but, fine.

So, she's wearing this beautiful if inappropriate flowing white fitted dress, with a keyhole neckline, a belt, and a watch. Then she touches a magic rock, falls through time, and is wearing... this?

Gone is the watch! Gone is the belt! Gone are the darts??? Addressing the accessories first, a metal watch/bracelet that tight would not just 'slip off' without leaving some sort of abrasion. Where did it go? Your guess is as good as mine. As for the belt, it would not have come undone just by falling on the ground! If she fell on a very sharp rock, hard enough to cut that belt off of her body, it would have also cut the fabric of her dress, and her skin. So the belt becomes another unexplained casualty of Claire's trip back in time. Let's fuck around and decide that Time decided the watch and the belt were too anachronistic to bring back along with this Whole Ass Person it's dropping in the 1700s.

On to the glaring issue here: what happened to the fit of the dress? What used to be two beautiful, well constructed darts are now a couple of stitches that accentuate her tits and serve no other notable purpose. If I had the time and spare fabric I would sew a dart and then rip it out by force to show you, but I don't, so you're just going to have to take my word when I tell you that if you tried to turn a dart that looked like this

into this

just by falling, you would damage the fabric! Significantly! At the very least there would be loose threads all over the place, more likely you would have slit holes in the dress where the line of stitches was forcefully ripped out.

Now, to address the fabric issue. You may notice that the dress in the fourth picture looks like it's a similar fabric to the first one, and you may be saying "Archer, if it looks like the fabric of the first picture and the cut of the third picture, then why are you upset that they changed the fabric? Clearly it's all the same!" Well gentle reader, it IS NOT.

Even if we ignore for a moment that we live in a world where costumers often make duplicates of costumes, especially costumes that undergo weathering, what we are looking at is at least three distinct dresses. The first is the dress Claire wears to gather flowers in 1945, the flowy, inappropriate, fitted white dress.

Second, we have what I'll call the 'transitional dress'. Still flowy, still a flimsier fabric, but we've lost the accessories and the fit of the dress entirely.

Thirdly, we have the iteration of the dress Claire remains in until she's given other clothes. This dress shows visible fraying at the shoulder and collar, is much more opaque, and is apparently durable enough for Claire to tear bandages from it.

THIS IS A DIFFERENT DRESS. If you look at the bottom of this last photo, you will see the hem of this dress. Notice how the hem is the exact same opacity as the rest of the dress? This is because the entire dress is opaque, as opposed to the sheerness of the 1940s dress. You can also look at the differences in draping. The folds that occur in this iteration of the dress are much broader than the drape I pointed out earlier. This is because it is a much thicker, sturdier fabric! This is also apparent in the fraying at the shoulder and collar. Even in the low quality images I was able to find, you can see thick individual threads separating from each other and splitting. If similar damage occurred on a thinner plastic based fabric, this would not be happening!

Due to the lack of available images I unfortunately cannot dive into the whole 'bandage tearing' bit that this dress goes through tonight, but if I wake up still pressed about this I may go take screenshots myself and write a second part to this post. (I would also like to dive into how the dress absorbed the dirt stains but I'm not well educated enough in that particular scientific aspect of cloth yet.)

Thank you for reading an historical costuming student's rant on the inconsistencies in this one dress across this one episode of this one show. I will certainly be back.

One final note: I truly don't mean any offense to the costumers of this show. I understand very well that they had to do what they had to do, especially while dealing with a studio schedule and this being a pilot episode. These are just my thoughts, and though I would have done differently, what they did more than served its purpose. This is intended much more as a study on television costuming than a direct insult or callout <3

[xxdoubledaisyxx]

Rust: "character identity is not important in our mutie minded hiveslave game of shitsucking ass drinkers. You have to survive, not enjoy yourself, because we are so privileged and spoiled with riches and luxury that we have never known suffering in real life and cannot even possibly imagine how other people might suffer just to be alive. However, you can do some complicated procedure to change your race to one of four."

Fuck you mother fuckers. Do you not know how ignorant you people are? Do you not realize your arrogance is an insult to my intelligence that I will answer with destruction in real life by civil means of social action.

Hopefully PlayStation lets me return this bull shit since I used my Stars rewards to buy it...

----

Rust is not actually working like a game. There is no character creation despite the genre specifically to inconvenience players like me who desire to enjoy ourselves in video game environments. I was not aware of it being an evil scam for unethical scientists and money stealing criminals pretending to be entertainers for children. That is unacceptable and should have been disclosed first so I was not offended. Please refund the game and remove it from my library.2:02 PM

are you still there?2:03 PM

are you not aware of that happening in the video game industry?

Yes Nicholas, I am reading your message, allow me a moment, please.

PI am reading your message.PlayStation Support

if you wish to help, forcibly take my money back from them and feel free to give them a rude gesture on my behalf. They are unworthy of the USD.

Okay, first, we need to investigate and check some things.

PFirst, have you tried any troubleshooting steps before contacting us today?PlayStation Support

Like what? Nuke Israel?

Nicholas, we just need this in order to continue assisting you.2:07 PM

I've done nothing else.

Okay, allow me a moment, please.2:08 PM

What kind of game hates individuality? No thanks. That's all I am. I want nothing to do with their identityless, inhumane, game of boring hate and evil toxicity.

Thank you for kindly waiting, Nicholas. I totally get your point, but this is something related directly with the publisher, if you wish you can contact them directly about this. On our end, I am sorry to inform you that I just double checked and it seems that according to our records the content has been downloaded/streamed. I'm truly sorry that I cannot proceed this time but due to the restrictions outlined in the PlayStation Store Cancellation Policy; a refund cannot be made for this transaction.

PI understand this is not the outcome you expected, but if there is something else you may need help with today, just let me know!PlayStation Support2:11 PM

File my complaint with extreme prejudice and be grateful I have no intention of directing my wrath at your company for no reason other than the existence of Noire in Neptunia. Thank Nep Nep for your life if you still have it, and don't allow mistakes like Rust to enter the world again.

You can contact the publisher directly about this, Nicholas.PlayStation Support

maybe I will, but I'd rather not correspond with fools.

I may as well play it now and see if there is anything to salvage from it. Maybe I'll find clues to track them down in real life for my rich person bludgeon to make short work of.

rich person bludgeon... you people disgust me.

Identity is not important? Then why did you design characters like human beings with an identity? Why did you create lifeless husks like real people? Is that what life is to you? A game where you can project yourself into another person? Keep doing that with me.

you have something in that emptiness where you think I have forgetten and been unaware, but that is because you are loved.

There is nothing in that emptiness for me. No love. No person. No truth. No life. Nothing. That's all you people are now that you thought of putting your faith in me, and that is all that I am not.

Seriously. Nuke Israel. See if that doesn't make the dickheads pull themselves out of each other's asses and get back in line before they break the god damn reactor with all their brain dead butt fucking.