#but this prompt got my attention

[rustbeltjessie]

I love jazz! Oh, how I dig it; Like Miles Davis, “Blue in Green.” Night arrives, my mind goes twilit, I love jazz, oh. How I dig it. That modal mood makes my brain split. Some square cats say: “What do you mean?” I love jazz! “Oh, how?” I dig it. Like Miles Davis. Blue, in green.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, “Untitled (Jazz Triolet)” (NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 4; prompt from NaPoWriMo.net)

[ghostbsuter]

Danny 'always checks if the billionaire he's staying at got a basement/cave' fenton, peacefully eating at dinner.

Bruce speaks up, smiling light. "So, Danny. How are you liking your stay so far?"

Danny, meeting his eyes, answers easily. "Yeah, it's been alright."

The teen keeps staring at Bruce, leaning on his hand and not even trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry, but are we not gonna talk about the fact you're batman and have a massive cave underneath your home?"

Bruce chokes immediately, "Excuse me?" He looks rather baffled.

Danny isn't done yet, deciding that Damian is his next victim. "Or the fact that Ra's al ghul's grandson is next to me?'

Someone is coughing hard, another is hysterically laughing. He doesn't knows who.

"Or," he meets Jason's eye. "He apparently died and came back?"

Danny leans back into his chair, honestly confused.

"You all reek of death, even Mr. Alfred does!" The statement is followed by ridiculous gestures and Duke shrugs.

"You get used to it." He explains, chewing.

"Really? Kinda strange. If I hadn't researched batman before, I'd 100% think Bruce is a villain."

"Amen to that, Bruce being a secret villain seems more plausible than vigilante."

"Yeah!"

The rest of dinner and after was spent on all ridiculous points and theories towards the waynes, Duke and Danny got on like a house on fire.

To the dismay of both Dick and Bruce, for different reasons.

Dick for not being the favorite and Bruce for being found out so fucking fast, he still is recovering.

(He was only slightly glad Stephanie wasn't here during that reveal.)

[razzle-zazzle]

1896 words; post-canon

Secret Santa for @loudlychoppedbread! A oneshot of Lili flirting with Raz via bad pickup lines!

AO3 ver

Lili needed to get Raz to visit her garden more often.

Well, maybe not. It was her space, as nice as it was to have Raz help her with the flowers. Even if his herbaphony was next to nonexistent and his green thumb was more like a small thumbnail. But it was nice to share this with him, and he was just so…

A jet of water splattered onto the begonia in front of her, putting out the flame that had started eating at the leaves. Lili flinched back, face flushing as she realized she what she had almost done in her distraction.

“You okay?” Raz asked, pulling the watering can away from the begonia. “Usually I’m the one setting your plants on fire.” He added, a small grin at his little joke.

Lili snorted. “That was one time.” She physically stepped back from the begonia, and mentally stepped back from thinking about stupid boys with cute faces and heroic attitudes that made her want to cup that face in her hands and just shake it for being so stupid and cute and frustratingly endearing—

The smell of burnt hair was the only warning Lili got before the watering can was turned upon her, Raz standing upon a levball as he put out the tiny flame. She shrieked, startled. Raz snickered. See? I can water the lilies just fine! He grinned, thought trickling down into Lili’s brain.

“I’ll get you for that!” Lili declared, lunging forwards. Raz yelled, levball rolling back before he tumbled off of it entirely, flipping backwards away from Lili’s tackle. The watering can fell to the ground, forgotten in the chaos as Lili and Raz tumbled around in the grass. The plants were shouting in their own way, either encouraging the tussle or demanding it stop before something got trampled.

So, yeah. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to have Raz in her garden. Or near her at all.

But Lili was better than this! She wasn’t gonna let some stupid crush get to her! She was gonna take this crush and crush it the best way she knew: by flirting.

As this was a matter of the utmost importance, Lili had to pull out the Big Guns. She’d hesitated to do this, both because there were bigger things to worry about and because she wasn’t sure yet—but now it was time to come out and say it.

“Did it hurt?” Lili asked, not quite blurting the words out but still speaking more abruptly than she wanted.

“Did what hurt?” Raz asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. For a single, precarious moment, the very concept of words fled Lili’s mind, replaced by flames and only flames. Raz stared at her, expecting a response. Lili stared back. Stalemate.

“When you fell from heaven!” Lili blurted. The tulips startled at the sound, but Raz—

“Um.” Raz’ face flushed, slightly, before he recovered his bravado, “Of course not. I learned how to fall before I learned how to walk.”

Now it was Lili’s turn to be flustered—that wasn’t how she expected him to react. But she probably should have expected it, given Raz’ acrobatic proficiency and general… Raz-ness. Still, she would not be so easily cowed.

“Yeah, well, if you were a vegetable,” Lili started, grabbing Raz’ gloved hand in hers, “You’d be a cute-cumber.”

Pink and white streamers shot from Raz’ mind to hers, flustered snarls of flattery tangling their link. His mouth opened, face flushed as he fumbled for words.

“You’re cute too!” He managed, through the swoon clawing at his mind. Lili giggled, satisfied with her victory—no, wait, Raz was floating up into the air—Lili snagged Raz’ hand, yanking im back down to earth. He landed on her with a dull thud that knocked the air out of both of them.

After a moment, Lili laughed.

+=+=+=+=+

Lili hopped off the balance beam, having successfully made her way across it with minimal wobbling.

“You did it!” Raz cheered, grabbing her hand.

“Of course I did.” Lili agreed, squeezing Raz’ hand back. His mind sloshed against hers, tangly vines creeping between the two of them as they giggled. The perfect moment!

“Are you from Tennessee?” Lili asked. At Raz’ confused look, she elaborated, “Because you’re the only ten I see.” A prime line, taken directly from observing her dad in action—so it was guaranteed to work.

And work it did, because Raz’ giggle turned into a squeak. He started to float, his grip on Lili’s hand tightening—

“That has got to be the lamest pickup line I’ve ever heard.” Dion chuckled, perched up on a tree branch overhead. He jumped off, flipping through the air on his way down. He rolled as he hit the ground, coming to a stop just in front of them.

Raz scoffed, eyes already rolling. “Yeah, because you hear so many pickup lines.”

“Mmhm.” Dion nodded, blatantly ignoring Raz’ sarcasm. “Tons.” He grinned, only to look at Raz again and double-take. “Why are you floating.” He grit out, sounding annoyed but broadcasting wary.

“I’m not floating.” Raz denied, pulling on Lili’s arm and landing back on the ground very suddenly.

Dion’s eyebrows quirked in disbelief, before he visibly decided it didn’t matter. “Whatever. Mom wanted me to ask if you were gonna stay for dinner.”

Lili’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know Raz’ older brother very well, but what she did know of him she didn’t like very much. “My pickup lines are great, actually.” She interjected, pulling her hand from Raz’ so she could put both hands on her hips for a good and proper glare. It probably wouldn’t be too rude to set Raz’ brother on fire, right? She could probably put it out before any real damage was done. Probably.

“I don’t care if you’re ten or whatever, your pickup lines suck.” Dion said, and now Lili really wanted to set him on fire. She opened her mouth to retort—

“Well, I like them!” Raz interjected. Whatever he was about to say next was cut off by the sound of a levboard grinding to a halt as Gisu came to a stop next to the group. “Sup?” She greeted, one foot on the ground, the other on her levboard.

“Hey.” Dion greeted, the look on his face a little bit similar to the way Raz sometimes looked at Lili. Lili resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t get why or how, but somehow putting Gisu and Dion together made them both so lame.

Gisu grinned, something like determination leaching off of her. “Just wanted to say,” she started, “If you were a McDonald’s burger, you’d be the McGorgeous.” She wiggled her eyebrows, smug grin threatening to shake into laughter the longer she stood there. “And babe, I am starving.”

Dion brought a hand to his mouth to cover a scuffed laugh, flush dusting his cheeks. Infatuation rolled off him in waves, so obvious that Lili probably didn’t even need to be psychic to notice it. Ewwwwww.

“That was awful.” Lili opined. Neither Dion nor Gisu seemed to care, though, already darting away on Gisu’s levboard with stupid sappy grins on their faces. Geez, Lili and Raz didn’t look at all like that when they were together. Not at all!

“I don’t get what she sees in him.” Raz said. He tentatively reached out, grasping Lili’s hand in his. Lili squeezed back, and resolved to put weird older brothers out of her mind.

“You know, if I could rearrange the alphabet,” Lili started, “I think I’d put U and I together.” She grinned as Raz blushed, rising a few inches into the air. Boldened by the victory, she continued. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Raz asked.

“Sounds like we’re near an airport!” Lili declared, squeezing Raz’ hand. “Because my heart is taking off!”

It took a solid ten minutes before Raz came back down.

+=+=+=+=+

Lili frowned. Francis needed more water, Fred needed a little more sun, and Fiona was complaining about aphids even though there were ladybugs all over—

“Hey, Lili!” Raz’ voice broke through her thoughts, his mental presence a calm balm against Lili’s rising frustrations. And also another source of frustration. But mostly a balm.

Lili turned her attention away from the begonias to look at Raz, who was balanced on a levball. “Yeah?”

Raz grinned. “Wanna see me do a flip?” He asked, bouncing in place.

“O…kay?” That was weird. Raz never asked to do flips or cartwheels—he just did them, when he felt like it. Lili could tell he was planning something, but when she probed with her mind, a wave of mischievous winking and wait-and-sees blocked her out.

“Watch this!” Raz rolled his levball, looking ready to launch into a flip—

“Ow!” Raz declared, stumbling forwards, levball popping beneath him. His knees hit the dirt, and his head was quick to follow, only for his arms to hit the ground first and transfer his momentum into a somersault. A somersault that ended with him prone on the ground, face in the dirt as he groaned, but a somersault nonetheless.

“Wh—are you okay?” Lili grabbed Raz’ shoulder, hauling him back up. He flopped down, limp against her hold, and Lili almost dropped him floundering for something she could use to help—

Raz rolled over, throwing his arm over his forehead. “Lili…” He groaned, face pinched in pain.

“What?” Lili demanded, kneeling down beside him. “Did you break something?”

“I need…” Raz sighed dramatically, one eye cracking open to look at her before slipping closed again, “I need first aid.” He said, his other hand falling over his chest. “Because I hurt my knees falling head over heels for you.” He finished, his head lolling to the side and his tongue falling out of his mouth with one, final, “blegh.”

Lili froze. All of her earlier panic slammed face-first into the wall of realization as it hit her what Raz was actually doing. “You—” Her face burned, her chest suddenly very light—almost weightless. The ground fell away from her, Raz sinking down as that weightless feeling grew out from her chest into her arms and legs. She curled up, burying her face in her knees to muffle a flustered scream as the ground continued to sink down away from her. Unfair! That was so unfair!

“Lili?!” Raz’ eyes were open wide now as he stared up at her. She floated a little higher, squeezing her knees against her chest as though it might soothe the fire burning up her brain. Stupid cute boys with heroic streaks who were nice and cute and made her want to bite her own pigtails and punch him in the shoulder—

Raz’ hands grabbed onto her arm, pulling Lili from her thoughts. He was standing on a levball, arms stretched as far as he could reach in order to grab onto Lili before she floated off entirely.

“Stop being so cute.” Lili grumbled, uncurling just enough to grab Raz’ hands in hers.

“I could say the same to you.” Raz flirted back, the weightlessness coming back in full force. Lili gasped, fumbling for a response that would send Raz floating right up into the air with her—

No words came to mind. Their feelings intertwined, and Raz floated up without Lili needing to say anything at all.

It took a long time for them to come back down.

[casualbluebirdmentality]

Leon's immortality predates the Cup of Life, y'all. he's just Like That

I'm assuming people have probably talked abt this already but if they have, I haven't seen it (i'm relatively new here), so I'm bringing it up myself lol.

(It's important to note here that in the end credits starting from s2e2, Rupert Young has always been referred to as playing Sir Leon, so it is the same character.)

Remember s2e13 The Last Dragonlord, when Arthur asks his knights who among them are willing to ride out with him to fight this big-ass dragon, and Leon is the first to volunteer? And they then show Leon, with Arthur and the others, as they ride out to fight Kilgharrah in that weird-ass square field?

...And then Kilgharrah one-shots literally everyone except for Arthur & Merlin???? And when the two return, they're just like, "yeah all the other knights died valiantly defending the kingdom, very sad" ???????

Personally, I believe this only leaves us with two (2) options:

The writers just straight up Forgot (or maybe ignored) that Leon was one of the knights that died, and just kept writing him in bc he was a well-liked character,

Or,

2. They're therefore implying that, canonically, when Arthur&Merlin got back to Camelot and said that all the knights were dead, they were just straight-up wrong. Which means that Leon had to just... find his own way home, I guess, after having been freshly charbroiled by a fucking dragon.

Merthur: None of the other knights made it, even Leon :(

Leon, covered in burns, wheezing on the ground in that big-ass field: QUIT TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD

Merthur: sometimes we can still hear his voice :(

The wiki says that "many believed he'd been killed" when he "was injured by the great dragon," but that "this was ultimately disproven by his return in Series 3"...

...which I believe falls squarely into #2 listed above lmao. He wasn't dead, just injured. They just fucking left him there.

TL;DR: yes, he's immortal, but it's not even from the cup. he's just Built Different

[slugpup2]

inktober day 23: celestial

the part in scarlet weather rhapsody where she just throws you into space...

[teenietinytangerine]

I’ve got a fic I doubt I’ll ever write so let me unload my notes app here:

jane austen period drama setting

a is an adoptee/pupil to a Count who is known as a great music composer, regularly hosts parties and welcomes students in music to educate them over the summer at his home that is always full.

outside of a, also has four sons and a young daughter.

the count took A in because she is the daughter of his life long friend now dead in the war; mom was a working woman that fell ill while waiting for her secret husband.

When her mother died, A moved into the Count's residence, she was about 9.

A is a full sunshine to be around, social butterfly with a sneaky side, she has taken over the role of organizing and hosting the parties as the oldest "daughter”.

a is also a piano genius, she writes songs she sells to less talented, more man, would-be composers (did smn say overcompensing for daddy's approval? no one?)

her origins are known by all, the fact that the Count will always prioritize his own children over her in terms of dowry and inheritance, which keeps all suitors away but not boys with lesser intentions. a is the first one to redirect attentions of the men she finds suitable on her little sister.

b is a broke lord, from a family that cares for nothing but titles and got screwed over by a vengeful accountant (that honestly may have had a point). They managed to keep their financial situation a secret, putting all their hopes on their two sons to marry well before it is known.

b is the eldest, and is a moderatly renowned pianist as his parents kept sending him away to lords and masters (mostly to not have to pay for his upkeep). This is how he caught the eye of the Count and is invited to stay at his Manor to become his student.

during his stay, his family expects a lot, he will never be more in company of young rich ladies.

But, of course, he meets a.

though a bit coldly at first as her entrance disturbs his performance by how loud the children welcome her back.

b does not know about a's circumstances, he comes from too far away, and just assumes she is a bored daughter of a Count that took up music as another hobby.

a takes a lot of pleasure teasing the shit out of straight-arrow-no-funny-business b, quickly becoming their guide in this new fancy world, much like a cat plays with a prey, until the fake flirting became a bit too real, and their feelings menaces their status quo.

b: “I want to finally do one thing I truly want to do before i throw my will away and marry smart and that is to kiss you” a:"we can kiss ONCE but no more, you’ve got to marry well and that is not me”

a: “since we can’t seem to move on, and we’re both very free spirited, we should have sex to get it out of our systems and then forget it all about it” b: “since we can’t seem to move on, we should marry eo actually”

a:”I’m not marrying you bc we’re horny, ur not being reasonable which is very hard and annoying to me bc so far you have been the reasonable one, and I do not appreciate this position when I’m just as damn horny for u”

b:”this is way beyond being horny and ur being blind to how deep we’ve fallen bc ur so sure i'm gonna change my mind, I’m not just willing to give up an easier life for you, I would be miserable without you, therefore this is me being reasonable by telling you I want to marry you and if you keep saying we should just get it out of our systems, then i'm telling you we can’t have sex until we’re married”

a thousand teasings later and flirtatious attempts, a few existential crisis, and resignation over a's own feelings and trust issues*

a: “fine, I’ll marry ur sorry adorable ass.”

b: “that’s such great news, let’s have sex to celebrate!”

a: “nah, we might as well wait now, it’ll be more special *is absolutely taking revenge*”

[crescenthistory]

sorry to rant in your inbox, but i have a question: how do you get so many mutuals/ people to engage w/ your blog? (reblogs, comments, asks)

main reason i'm asking is because i have a blog myself (i also write) and as thankful as i am for all the likes, i just kinda wish i had more reblogs and mutuals/ people interacting in my asks/ inbox or commenting. (sorry if i sound selfish- /gen)

and i'm not assuming you'd have an exact answer for this! i was just wondering if you had some tips (btw, i love your blog!)

hi there, lovely<33

when i answer this, it is not just as crescenthistory, but as someone who has been on tumblr across various blogs for quite literally ten years. i have had some widely successful blogs and some much smaller and intimate ones.

i know it's cliche, but my biggest advice is to not overthink it. if you try to get at some overarching strategy, some specific times to post, specific things to write, etc. you're just going to exhaust yourself and even grow resentful of the very space you're trying to create. make sure your blog is a space of personal enjoyment – people catch onto that.

i've attended some larps over the years where they have this golden rule i think is equally suitable for tumblr – "you get what you give". almost all of my mutuals have been made either through me reblogging their work, commenting on their posts and sending them asks through my account, or through me actively receiving them when they do it on my posts (e.g. not just saying "thanks" but taking it as an invitation). many of my mutuals aren't writers, but engaged with my work really excitedly, so i kept talking to them and now we're tumblr friends! it can be as "simple" as that.

i don't really do anything to "get" people to engage with my work, i just post my work and engage with others' and then what goes around comes around.

it is incredibly understandable to want your work to be recognised and want to make mutuals/friends on here! that is in no way selfish or bad. you just can't force it too much either. post whatever you feel like, follow and engage with others regardless of their own following. give yourself space and grace and enjoy yourself 🫂🤍

[coldjustness]

TAG DROP 001.

[ ooc. ] one. one thousand. two. one thousand. three. and now my patience is up.

[ ic. ] chase the right bastard through the wrong ritual it'll knock you right out. of course. you might wake up with a new accessory.

[ answered: ooc. ] it is better to ask a question than to sit on your hands and let it fester.

[ answered: ic. ] most papers don't say much but read between the lines you pickup a thing or two.

[ psa. ] hear ye! hear ye! use that thing on the inside of your head or be doomed!

[ saved. ] i'm like a dragon with the things I like. I'll horde them forever.

[ prompts / memes. ] im not picky. i got a cup and it does the job. that's all I ask.

[ reflections ] I'm fighting rook. sometimes it feels like the city itself stabs me in the back.

[ introspection ] its not what keeps me up at night. its not the quiet. I never could sleep once work gets in my head.

[ crack. ] sing your praises and you still want something! I'll find you a treat if you don't tell davrin. have we got a deal?

[ salt. ] that's the worst-case scenario. but all too often; the most pessimistic speculation turns out to be the closest to the truth.

[ birthday. ] it's my hatch day! Im allowed to be happy and irresponsible.

[ self promotion. ] apparently I could something clever here but I am too lazy for that.

[ promotion. ] I like this blog. I think it's neat. it deserve attention. everyone! look here!

[cha1cedony]

Thinking about how Lincoln and Chris are both SUPER jealous people. Love them but that must’ve been a crazy marriage lmaoo

[leenesomewhatdraws]

Novembmas, Day 14: Working Late / Surprise Gift !

I intended my "Surprise Gift" drawing for today as a companion piece to my day 8 "Unexpected" art :) (totally optionnal caption but just wanted to share this lol, since I imagined those at the same time so thats why ^^. Making each other happy through small gestures ♡♡)

Transcription :

[1] (E) "Were we expecting a package ?"

[2] (I) "How about you see for yourself ?"

[Arrow pointing towards what Emmet is holding with 'Clothes for Joltiks' written above it]

[starlit-mansion]

between one thing and another, i've stopped talking about my ocs much on here but. that tiktok i just reblogged. is the most malcolm vibes in the WORLD

[sesamestreep]

Don/Sloan, 20

20. I’ve been looking sad in all the nicest places (from this prompt list) I don’t know what this is, honestly. I wrote a whole other fill for this prompt and decided I hated it and couldn’t finish it, then wrote this instead in like half a day. I don’t know. It’s a Good Place AU, I have next to nothing for it built out besides this snippet, that’s basically it. much love and bone apple teeth or whatever…

Sloan is on her fifth straight minute of willing her legs to work and take her back to the party—her own damn party, for Christ or whoever’s sake, she’s not really sure at this point—when someone nearly trips over her. In their defense, she is sort of hiding behind a topiary in a dark corner of the lawn, so there was no way they could have seen her, but she still finds it in herself to be annoyed.

“Could you please watch where you’re going?” she exclaims.

“Uh, sorry,” the man says, fumbling with something in his hands. “Though I don’t really see how it’s my fault that you’re sitting on the ground, in the dark. You’re basically asking to be tripped over.”

Sloan’s legs work just fine then. She stands up, straight as a pin, and throws her shoulders back, getting ready for some variation of the “I’d like to speak with your manager!” conversations she had almost daily back when she was alive.

“Here’s a tip for you,” she says, instead, with as much indignation as possible, “don’t go around accusing women of ‘asking for it’.”

The man winces. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as it was out of my mouth. That was, uh, poor form.”

The easy admission of wrongdoing shouldn’t surprise her here, where she’s allegedly surrounded by the best people ever, but it still somehow does. It helps that this guy doesn’t give the appearance of backing down from fights easily, which makes it all the more impressive that he’s doing so now.

“It’s fine,” Sloan says, backing down too. “No harm done.”

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Don Keefer.”

“Sloan Sabbith,” she says, accepting the handshake.

“Oh, the Sloan Sabbith,” he replies, as he puts the item he’s been shuffling between his hands—a cigarette, it turns out—between his lips. He doesn’t sound impressed. She’s not sure how he sounds, but it’s probably not good.

“I suppose so.”

“This is your house,” he points out.

“Ah, yes. That Sloan Sabbith.”

“I mean, I knew you before,” Don says, and then corrects himself, “Sorry, I knew of you before. I lived in New York, when I was alive.”

“Oh, right.”

“Your name was always in the society pages.”

Sloan shrugs, not sure if humility is the right move here. She’s not certain Don would buy it. He pulls out a lighter and moves to light his cigarette.

“I guess you didn’t see the amount of fundraising I did for the American Cancer Society,” she says, frowning.

Don laughs, but he still brings the flame to the tip of the cigarette. “Sweetheart, it’s the afterlife. Lighten up.”

“I don’t like the smell.”

“Won’t be a problem,” he says, waving the hand with the cigarette between his index and middle fingers around a little bit wildly. “Neither do I. I got that robot assistant woman, uh—”

“Jenna,” Sloan interjects, over-enunciating the name for his benefit.

Jenna, of course, materializes with a soft tone at that moment, making her jump in surprise. How long does that take to get used to?

“Hi,” she says, brightly. “How can I help?”

Don looks at Sloan expectantly, and her face heats with embarrassment and irritation. She pointedly looks away, as if she hadn’t accidentally summoned the neighborhood’s virtual assistant and made a fool of herself.

“We’re good, Jenna. Thank you,” Don finally says, all charm, when it’s clear Sloan isn’t going to be helpful.

“You bet!” There’s another soft tone, slightly different, as she disappears.

“That is going to take some getting used to,” Don says, as if they’re buddies or something.

“You’ve never had an assistant before?” Sloan sniffs, aware that it’s a deeply snobby thing to say and not very concerned about it.

“Not like her.”

She whips her head around to glare at him. “Don’t be gross!”

“I meant because she’s literally omniscient,” he says, looking bored of her now. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Good, because I’d hate to feel any worse for your soulmate than I already do.” Just as she’s winding up to really lay into him, she suddenly smells something strange. It smells like salt water and…something else. Something she can’t put her finger on. She steps closer to Don and inhales. “Do you—what is that?”

“I told you the smoke wouldn’t bother you,” he says, holding the cigarette aloft proudly. “When I asked Jenna for cigarettes earlier, I was worried the neighborhood would have, like, a ‘no smoking’ policy, kind of like the ‘no swearing’ thing? But she told me that, since we’re in The Good Place, the smoke wouldn’t irritate anyone, and when they smelled it, it would remind them of their most cherished childhood memory, if you can believe that.”

Sloan wouldn’t have two minutes ago but now, she’s certain she’s smelling the boardwalk in Santa Monica that she went to constantly with her family when she was young. She hasn’t been back in years, and she supposes now she never will. Suddenly, she feels tears welling in her eyes.

“Thank goodness the tobacco industry didn’t have Jenna on their side,” she says, stepping back and trying to pull herself together.

“True. Though I imagine those guys would have trouble getting into The Good Place anyway.”

“That’s a…good point.”

“So, what does the magic cigarette smoke smell like to you?” Don asks, and then shakes his head. “There’s a question I never anticipated asking anyone. Not sober, at least.”

Sloan laughs, despite herself. “It, uh, smells like the Santa Monica pier. I grew up in the Bay Area, but my cousins lived in SoCal, and we’d visit them on school breaks or vacations whenever we could. The pier was always my favorite place to go.”

When she looks up again, she finds Don smiling at her in an unguarded way she finds…unsettling. Not because it’s creepy, but because it’s familiar. She doesn’t know what that means, but she knows it’s probably a sign of trouble.

“What about you?”

“Well,” Don laughs, looking down at his shoes, “that’s sort of a funny story. You see, I gave up smoking when I was in college, after my grandad died of lung cancer. I’d like to tell you it was because I was being smart and healthy, but the truth is, the smell of the smoke reminded me too much of him. I spent a lot of my childhood with him, because both of my parents worked, so he watched me for them. He was my favorite person, and my reference point for everything, and my moral compass. After he died, it felt like I lost a piece of myself.”

Don pauses, and then shakes his head. “I don’t know why I told you all that. The important part of that story is that he, uh, smoked like a chimney and his whole house reeked of tobacco all the time. His clothes smelled like it, his car smelled like it, everything.”

“Oh, no,” Sloan says, when the penny drops for her.

“Yeah, see? You got there before me,” he says, smiling sadly. “These forking magical cigarettes, they smell like his house, his clothes, his car.”

“It just smells like tobacco to you,” she supplies, and Don nods. “And the smell reminds you of him. And it makes you sad, which is why you stopped smoking in the first place.”

“It’s like some kind of Sisyphean torture loophole,” Don says, still smoking. “You can’t make this shirt up.”

“I mean, they could,” she says, thinking of her first meeting with Will, where he had the file for her entire life, down to the most minor of details. “They’d know about you and your grandpa from your file, right? And you said that Jenna’s omniscient, so she’d know too. That’s…weird, right?”

Sloan glances over at him to find Don staring at her, not smiling this time, but with an expression of barely suppressed horror. She can tell just from the look on his face that he’s running through everything that’s happened since he got to the neighborhood in his mind and looking for more strange occurrences like that.

“Have we,” he asks, hesitantly, “met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Sloan says, but not with as much certainty as she would have a few moments ago. “You mean, when we were alive?”

“Yeah,” Don says. “I guess that’s what I mean. You just feel familiar, in some way.”

“You did say you knew my name from the press.”

“I know, but I don’t mean familiar like that. I mean, familiar like I’ve known you for a long time.”

“We just met,” she says, as firmly as she can manage, though it feels like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true too.

“So, it’s just me?” he asks, and it’s not accusatory so much as disappointed.

Sloan feels so utterly thrown by this, she can hardly cope. It doesn’t help that in backing away from him earlier, she didn’t get nearly far enough away. She can still smell the Santa Monica pier—the sunshine and the sea air and the food stalls—but she can also smell what she suspects is Don’s cologne or soap or maybe just him—this clean, warm boyish smell—and now those two things are going to swirl together in her memory forever, and she’s going to be confused why she thinks of summer vacations whenever she’s near him. Not that she will be again anytime soon, she hopes. This has been too much for her.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she says, still too close to him and not backing away.

Don laughs, softly, and she thinks she can smell champagne on his breath. There was plenty at the party, she remembers, even though it feels like an age ago now. He doesn’t seem drunk, though.

“I don’t know what I want from you either,” he says, watching her closely. He’s not that much taller than her, so it’s pretty easy to gaze deeply into his eyes, unfortunately, and that’s what she ends up doing.

The cigarette falls from between his fingers, and lands harmlessly, already extinguished, on the grass beneath their feet. It vanishes a second later, and a daisy sprouts in its place, which figures. This place is too good to be true, she thinks, and then catches herself. Is it? Has she been thinking that all along?

She looks back up at Don to find his gaze still riveted on her face. “Something’s wrong,” she whispers.

He steps closer to her. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but something is definitely wrong here,” she says, and it really sounds hysterical but it’s the truth. She can feel it. “Something is not right.”

“Maybe we’re just cynics,” Don offers, with a halfhearted smile.

“Maybe.” Why hasn’t she stepped away from him yet?

“We should…get back to the party.”

“My party,” Sloan says, nodding. “Yes. We should.”

“Our partners will both be looking for us, I’m sure.”

“Right. Yes.”

Neither of them moves, not even a fraction of an inch. Sloan’s hands, seemingly of their own accord, settle on the button placket of Don’s crisp white shirt. She runs a fingertip over a button. His hands come around to rest on her elbows, holding her in place.

“You do feel familiar to me,” she says, in the direction of the button, because she’s not brave enough to say it to his face. “I don’t know why. I don’t understand…how that’s possible.”

“Neither do I, but I’m not—it doesn’t feel like a bad thing, does it?”

Sloan shakes her head, and risks lifting her gaze to his again. He’s still watching her cautiously. She feels herself lean in, and then she feels him reciprocate. They’re only a breath away from kissing when they pause, and whether it’s hesitation or savoring the moment, she’s not sure. She’s watching his face for any sign of second thoughts and finds none, which gives her the courage to lean in that last bit, to close the distance between them.

“Don,” a voice calls in the distance. “Don, are you out here?”

They break apart instantly, putting a laughable amount of distance between them as quickly as possible, as Don curses under his breath. Or tries to, at least, despite the neighborhood’s swear filter.

“Don!” the voice shouts, closer now.

“Over here,” he calls back after a second.

“Where?”

“Here! Follow the….Marco!”

“Polo!”

This, thankfully, only continues for a few moments before a petite, adorable blonde woman rounds the corner. She’s wearing a sensible cocktail dress and has a drink in one hand.

“There you are!” she says. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I was just getting to know our host better,” Don says, indicating Sloan with a wave of his arm in her direction.

The woman’s gaze swivels to Sloan and her expression opens up even more. “Oh my god, Sloan Sabbith, it’s so nice to meet you! You have such a nice place here!”

“Thank you,” Sloan demurs. She’s not sure how to behave around someone whose soulmate she almost just kissed. She’s not even sure there is protocol for that scenario. It’s probably just something you’re not supposed to do.

“I’m Maggie, by the way,” she says, eagerly. “I should have started with that.”

“Maggie was a professor of ethics and moral philosophy,” Don adds, draping an arm casually around her shoulders as she nestles into his side.

“Wow,” Sloan says. She wants to punch him so much.

“Oh, don’t be impressed,” Maggie says, humbly. “I’ve spent all night talking to people who are way more inspiring than me. And, obviously, my soulmate is this guy, so…”

Don makes a pained face at Maggie’s compliment, which Sloan finds both satisfying and odd. “What’s so impressive about Don?” she asks, coolly, and doesn’t miss the way his gaze flicks over to her sarcastically.

“Oh, he refuses to brag about it, but he was this super important human rights lawyer,” Maggie replies, putting a hand on his chest proudly. “I mean, if there was a cause you cared about, I’m sure he did some legal work to advance it when he was alive!”

“Sloan is a noted humanitarian and philanthropist, Maggie,” Don objects. “I doubt she’d be impressed by my work.”

“Right, sorry,” Maggie says, looking chagrined. “You’re, like, famous!”

“I guess so.”

“No wonder you ended up with Jim Harper as a soulmate! You must feel so lucky!”

“Yes, I certainly do,” Sloan says, with false cheer. She likes Jim. He’s cool. But she only just met him today. She doesn’t know where Don and Maggie get off being so coupled up and settled down already. It’s annoying.

“You guys didn’t know each other when you were alive, did you?”

“No, it’s weird. We somehow never crossed paths.”

“I loved his music when I was alive,” Maggie gushes. “I got a chance to talk to him at the party and he seems really nice!”

“He is,” Sloan insists for what feels like the tenth time. “Actually, speaking of Jim, I should probably get back to the party and, well, make sure he’s doing okay and the guests have everything they need.”

Maggie nods, enthusiastically. “Of course! It was so nice to meet you!”

“Yes,” Don says. “Very nice.”

Sloan has to concentrate very hard not to scowl at him, so she focuses most of her attention on Maggie, who she despises for totally different and completely undeserved reasons. “You too! Always a delight to meet one’s neighbors.”

“Oh, right! You should stop by our place sometime,” Maggie says. “It’s not as grand or as big as your place, obviously—”

“Nothing in the neighborhood is, as a matter of fact,” Don interjects, pointedly. Sloan’s eyes water from the effort of not glaring at him.

Maggie, meanwhile, thumps him lightly on the chest. “Don,” she says, playfully offended. Or maybe not playfully. It’s hard to tell with Maggie. Her smile is just a little too wide and bright to take at face value.

“Don’t listen to him,” she continues. “Our house is the one with the yellow door and the round window at the front, it’s just—”

“Two doors down, of course,” Sloan says graciously. “I did wonder who lived in such a cutesy little cottage and now I know!”

Maggie’s smile falters a bit, and she adopts a more serious expression. “Yes, well, I like it a lot, so…”

“I will be sure to stop by sometime,” Sloan says, trying to be more soothing. She’s a bitch, not a monster, after all.

“We’d love that,” Maggie replies. “Right, Don?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, with a thin smile in Maggie’s direction. To Sloan, he adds, with a significant look, “Don’t be a stranger!���

Sloan nods in acknowledgement and then gets out of there as quickly as possible. She has a feeling, though, that she won’t have much of a choice in terms of Don and Maggie’s invitation. For whatever reason, she suspects she might be stuck with them now.

[toomanyfandomsneverenoughtime]

.

[leofromsomewhere]

damn, that's awesome and/or intense. i don't fully get it though, i gave up reading partway through act 2

Ok but consider: A production of Hamlet that starts with the last scene and then Horatio has to play his role in the rest of the play, but he’s still completely dissolved in tears. Everyone else is oblivious and he has to keep it together for the sake of storytelling, but his voice cracks as he says “I think I saw him yesternight”, regret filling his tone, and he frantically holds on to Hamlet as he begs him not to follow the ghost; he practically chokes on his words as he shouts, “Be rul’d!” And he knows it’s no use, but he’s so reluctant to play his part in this and he can barely keep his emotions at bay. And then the end of the story draws nearer. He takes longer and longer to say his lines. He hesitates, tries to stretch out the little time he’s got left with Hamlet. He doesn’t want to be in this narrative, but he is. Until finally, as Hamlet decides to duel Laertes, Horatio simply gives up. Reluctantly, but knowingly, he accepts the fact that there’s nothing he can do but play his part and relive it all, just to honor Hamlet’s legacy and story. And Hamlet dies in his arms a second time.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The JJK men want YOU to wear their jersey

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance

An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂‍↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.

Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.

Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.

“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.

“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.

“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.

“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.

“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.

“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.

You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He’s already won.

Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.

He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.

When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.

SUGURU

Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.

Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.

Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.

Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.

Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.

“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.

Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.

So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.

Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.

Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).

They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.

He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.

Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.

He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.

You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.

It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.

You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.

“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”

You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.

“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.

You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.

CHOSO

“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.

He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.

“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”

Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.

“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”

Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.

That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.

When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.

Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.

Yuji facepalmed around the corner.

You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.

His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.

To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.

TOJI

It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.

When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.

Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.

He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.

He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.

“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.

“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.

“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.

“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.

“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”

You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”

“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.

“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“

“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”

Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.

SUKUNA

Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.

So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.

There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.

Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.

[spaceratprodigy]

new art in about an hour btw 👍