#also belated realized

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @ichiruki-auzine! I thought it’d be fun to do a Troy AU (ish) for Ichiruki, with Ichigo as Paris and Rukia as Athena. 

…

…

…

…

Holding up a golden apple, Ichigo admired how the sunlight caught on it, the fruit’s smooth skin sparkling like a diamond. All the wealth of his father’s kingdom couldn’t compare to this single fruit, delivered to him by the hands of a god. Even the awe-inspiring beauty of nature, such as the field around him, was no match for this gift.

His fingers brushed against the words carved on it, For the Fairest, and Ichigo frowned. All the strife in his father’s kingdom couldn’t compare to the trouble this apple would cause. The wind blew through the field, ruffling his simple tunic, and he suppressed a shiver. A war could start because of this apple. His kingdom could collapse because of this apple. 

A small tremor resounded behind him and Ichigo sighed, lowering his hand. He’d heard that sound three times already today—the sound of a god descending, of an immortal entering the mortal plane. The first had been when Kisuke, the god of mischief, had given him the apple. 

His sister liked to tell him that every gift had strings attached, that one should be careful about what they accepted. Presents from the gods were no exception. When Kisuke had given him the apple, he had neglected to mention that three goddesses wanted it. That they would do anything for it.

That he would have to pick one and face the others’ wrath; a goddess’s rage could wipe out an entire country if the mood hit them.

Then again, it wasn’t like he really had much of a choice—it wasn’t like one could refuse a god. The Fates had already decreed that he would take the apple.

All that was left was to see where this path took him. 

Two of the goddesses had already visited. Already made their cases, offered him their boons.

“You are Ichigo,” a confident, sharp voice stated behind him. 

And now, the final, third goddess had appeared. Maybe he could just give it to the last one and claim it was a luck of the draw thing.

“Yes, and you’re—” Ichigo turned around and cut himself off. There was no one behind him. 

“Down here,” the goddess ground out, a slim hand grabbing his vest at the same time and yanking him down. 

Ichigo almost fell over, barely keeping his balance as he stared at the pipsqueak before him. The girl barely reached his chest. Piercing black eyes met his, the girl’s expression oddly sharp in contrast to how her black hair curled around her face. “You…”

“I?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Are you lost?” Ichigo asked, glancing around for someone else. “Are your pare—”

Before he could finish the sentence, the girl kneed him in the gut. Ichigo gasped, falling to his knees, his hands clutching his belly. The apple rolled out of his hands, glowing in the grass.

“I am not a child,” the girl growled, eyes flashing like bolts of lightning. The clouds above turned grey and stormy. “I am the goddess Rukia.”

The hair on the back of his neck tingled and he softly swore as he looked up. From this angle, there was no doubt of her power. 

“Give me the apple.” Rukia held out her hand. “Now.”

Something about it grated on his nerves. Did he deserve her attack? Probably—he had disrespected a goddess. But to get kneed and extorted at the same time? If he was going to have to reject two goddesses anyways, might as well pick the one who hit him. “No.”

Rukia stared at him owlishly. “What?”

“No,” he repeated, forcing himself to his feet. His stomach ached. “Hell no.”

“You’re going to defy me?” Rukia glared and the clouds grew darker. 

Every part of him felt electrified. His knees buckled. Ichigo stubbornly stood his ground, refusing to be cowed. “You’re not getting it.”

“Then I’ll just take it.” Before he could react, she marched to the apple and swiped it. 

Or rather, tried to swipe it. Her hand hovered above the fruit, almost touching it, and she grunted as she tried to force it lower. After a few minutes, it was clear she couldn’t pick it up. “Shit.” 

Ichigo looked at her, then at the apple. It looked the same as it had minutes ago. He couldn’t see anything stopping her. Slowly, he reached down too. When nothing happened, he picked it up and raised a brow. “Since you’re so close to the ground, shouldn’t this be easier for you?”

“Height has nothing to do with this!” She snapped, glaring at him once more. Her hands curled into a fist and she growled, “You have to give it to me.”

Ichigo snorted. “I don’t have to do anything. Weren’t you just going to steal it?”

“I can’t.” She stamped her foot, sending tremors through the earth. “That bastard Kisuke…the apple can’t be taken. It has to be given.”

Ichigo stared at the apple, then at her. Given meant the power dynamic just shifted. He smirked. “So, how badly do you want it?”

Rukia ground her teeth. “Maybe I’ll just torture—”

“Hey, Yoruichi! Goddess of the Hunt!” Ichigo called out immediately. “I’ll give—”

“Wait!” Rukia tackled him.

His head knocked on the ground, the breath knocked out of him. Despite her height, she was impressively strong. He groaned as he lay there, her small body pinning him in place. “Are you trying to kill me?” he growled.

“Oh believe me, you’ll know when I try,” Rukia retorted, her hands clasping his arms and forcing him to stay down. She leaned forward, her hair brushing his cheeks as she hovered over him. This close, he could make out her long lashes, the soft curve of her jaw. If it weren’t for all of this, he might have thought her attractive. “Look, let’s make a deal. You give me the apple, and I’ll give you something in return.”

“Another gift?” Ichigo snorted, trying and failing to lift his arms. Unfortunately, the strength of a mortal was nothing to that of a god’s, and he settled for glaring at her. “No thanks. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

“What if it’s something you want?” Rukia tried again. “Look, there has to be something you want. Name it. I’ll give it to you.”

“Anything?” A blank ledger. He could ask for anything. Ichigo bit his cheek. Now, that was tempting.

Sensing his interest, Rukia perked up. “Anything,” she repeated. “I could give you a nice house.”

Ichigo laughed. “I’m a prince. Kinda have that covered.”

“Beautiful women?” she tried again.

“Not really hard, since I’m a prince,” he repeated, stressing the last three words. 

“Wealth beyond—”

“Are you sure you’re the goddess of wisdom?” Ichigo asked, amused.

Rukia headbutted him. Immediately, she rolled off him, clutching her head, “Fuck, why is your head so hard?”

“Screw you,” he grunted, rubbing his own head.

“A wish,” she ground out, turning slightly to look at him. She still had a hand on her forehead, and there was nothing dignified at all about how she looked, lying on the grass with him. “I’ll give you a wish. You can cash it in whenever you want.”

Ichigo rubbed his forehead one more time. Feeling a bump, he countered. “Make it three.”

“Like, I would—” Rukia cut herself off as she looked at the apple again. She banged her fist on the ground. “Fine. Three. But you can’t wish for immortality or anything like that—I can’t give you things that aren’t in my domain or aren’t obtainable.”

That was fine. Ichigo could barely figure out what he wanted to do in one lifetime, let alone dozens. “Deal.” He sat up and held out his hand. When she looked at him quizzically, he added, “We shake on deals down here.”

“Oh. Right. A contract.” Rukia sat up and ran a hand through her hair, shaking out the loose grass. Ready now, she slipped her hand in his. Despite how rough she seemed, her skin was soft. “With this, we are bound.”

His hand engulfed hers entirely. “My apple for three wishes.” 

As they shook, translucent, glowing chains wrapped around their arms. Ichigo gasped, trying to pull away, but her grip was too strong, the chains too tight. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. Rukia paled, falling forward, and it was all he could do to catch her in his arms.

Something about her felt lesser, smaller. Even her body felt impossibly frail as he held her. She trembled as she clutched him, her hand curling into his chest.

“Are you okay?” He tightened his grip, looking around. There was no one else in the field. “What was that?”

“A god’s vow.” Rukia took a deep breath then pushed herself back. She didn’t leave the circle of his arms as she straightened up, still looking all too fragile. “I…that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She snapped her fingers and when nothing happened, her shoulders slumped. “I can’t…”

“You can’t?” Ichigo asked, not following.

She looked up, locking eyes with him. “Until you make those three wishes, I can’t do anything. I’m stuck here.”

Oh. Ichigo stared at her. Well, that changed everything.

[bebagerie]

please this is my favorite rn

hope its still a favorite

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

"See you tomorrow"

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 4 [prev parts]

[vampiresoba]

can someone pls explain to me why frank put up a slug as the spotify canvas for stitches

[reddoll123]

Mask Off~

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: A panel of Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint smiling, captioned “grin”. His smile seems both sincere and slightly ominous. End ID]

Ohhh he’s deranged. Awesome

[tiredspacedragon]

Oh hey look, it's a thing I started working on in August and only just finished now. Took me like, 10 minutes.

Anyway, I was inspired by those new canon Le-Matoran we got for 810, so I thought I'd go ahead and fill in some more gaps. Allow me to present the post-Rebuilding looks of Midak, as well as Podu and the Vuata Maca tree wizard from Quest for the Toa, along with a recolour of Kopeke in his proper dark gray instead of the erroneous light gray he appears with in MNOGII. The colour manips aren't perfect, but I'm pretty happy with them overall.

I also threw in 03 versions of Kopeke, Taipu, and Hafu with their 01 colours and Kanohi, just for fun and in case anyone wanted to see it.

[transtranslations]

Empty by 小梅むすび (Koumemusubi)

(continued from part 1 here)

Please go and make sure you give the original creator some likes and bookmarks at the link above!! They deserve it!

Thank you for reading!

[ao3-anonymous]

looking at my small and obscure fandom on that fastest growing list and feeling oddly proud tbh

I’m glad! You should feel proud (especially if you’re a fic writer, but everyone contributes to fandom in different ways!) and I’m glad my post/dashboard helps shed light on those smaller fandoms.

[aibafiles]

guy who suddenly figured out how 2 piano & can play 14s now

[k3wpiie]

!click for better quality!

late new year art that i only managed to finish now sob sob.,,

my oc (middle) with illow/siorce from @yourcomfortpillow (18+ blog mdni) and fone from @ringringringbananafone​  (18+ mdni) i luv their character designs/their games sm omg they made helped me get out of my art block

EXTRA:

bc i heard this red head hates poor fone ;;

they’d prolly do something worse than this tbh

[rosen-und-mondlicht]

.

[universal-kitty]

Late night moment I'm having again. May as well post this b4 bed-

Self-ship is very strange coming from someone who does this for personal comfort- as pretty much everyone does- but not in the same way as the majority tend to.

I think I'm coming to the bigger realization that this shipping is much more precious to some people than how I interact with it. We do all the same things, mind you: we collect/make merch, we love the character, have folders dedicated to the character, draw them a lot...or all the time, make ships, create self-inserts, find new merch..... They're just very baked into our lives. Right down to living in our heads rent free.

(And then I- personally- learned about plurality, and that fundamentally changed some things. Some of my F/Os are legitimately in my head, and they help ensure I can function.)

Anyways. But then we get to the finer details of shipping, and "my type" falls to the wayside.

Where people seek to write what they wish their reality to be, I don't...always do that. I seek the story. The honesty. While I will bend my F/Os from their canon personalities- a sort of "asking forgiveness" to do so- in order to make some of these stories happen, they are largely (more often than not) still accurate to source. Which means we might fight. It might mean someone does something hurtful, and has to make up for the damage left behind. I may even still keep a villain well and truly villainous, and let my SI react how they will. (Do they turn the other cheek; stay blind to the truth of the matter? Are they unhelpful with these events, but know of them, and still kiss their lover on the cheek? Maybe... Just maybe-? They even help.)

That tends to read as enabling behavior. Something "bad" to do. Why would anyone write about these things?

...Well, because it's not always about who I am, at any given time. I do not have to be a "simple" person, who lives a boring, struggling life. I can write about "mes" who do incredible things. Dangerous things. And may continue to do so.

It's not because I would personally want to see these things happen. It may be layered in catharsis for painful events, but most of all... It's a story.

I write it to be thrilling. To be shocking. To fill the world with love and tenderness, but also show how those roses have thorns, and you can't catch a blade bare handed without risking cuts. Without risking some near-permanent damage to yourself.

Sometimes, yes, I will write a story that reflects my world. My status. I want to talk marriage with someone who hasn't considered it before. Being comforted by someone who means a lot to me, and who's words would soothe my soul, even if just for a little while. A life full of struggles, but that can end up in domestic bliss, despite everything thrown at them.

But I do also want to write stories where someone's left alone that night, and cries in grief. I want- and will- write about a man who was hardly prepared for kids, but especially not the one he ended up with. (Reference to lore I already have going...!) Stories where no one is really happy at the end, but maybe they're resigned to see it all through; until things DO get better. And sometimes... A couple is a duo who dances while the world burns around and behind them. Fully in love while their rampage eats up the world around them...

All very valid things to explore. I just realize sometimes I'm the person who wants to write my own novels, rather than write what I wish my life was like, right this moment.

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[uniquexicon]

It's not that I'm in a mess, no

But the possibilities are endless

[the-artist-grimm]

Bet you all were expecting something sweet, huh? Yet the first time one of the twins got the courage to call the lamb ‘Baba’ to their face…

Discouraging Narinder from sacrificing the lamb via getting themselves intentionally hurt during the fight was an…idea, but in practice both kits underestimated just how hard the crown can hit-regardless of the bearer actively trying to kill or not. 

The lamb at that point still had been telling themselves that they only saw the twins as akin to little brothers-yet watching those children vanish into ash within their arms, plus Aym’s dying words, that was what made them realize just how much the twins had meant.

Yet soaked in their blood, all they could think was that they'd realized too late.

(to those who wanted to see the lamb’s reaction to being called 'Baba'…hehehehe. Also have a belated ‘That Death Was Painful’ lol :D )

Prompt List!