#maybe i’ll be a fine artist again and create work about it again…

[hesitationss]

reading this LA Times article about chinese americans in Eureka, CA…racism is insane. it’s also interesting to have documentation of the thought process behind specific actions because at the turn of the century when plague his america, they actually were burning down the buildings in chinatown to “kill the disease” and the chinese ppl that white america was scapegoating at the time; and by that point chinatowns were own and built by chinese merchants/clan heads rather than being rented by the white man. but it is hilarious that kicking an entire minority out of a county could by seen a good christian (1st pic) non violence lmfao when 25 years prior they were slaughtering Indigenous ppl (3rd pic).

similar things were happening in canada too esp the part about being kicked out of towns. esp in the prairies, my friend who is Blackfoot was looking in their town’s archives and actually found an ancestor who was a chinese worker. and another friend’s husband who’s great grandfather was a chinese slave in peru. i really wish we were not eradicated from labour history, there is so much survival and so many ways that family has been found despite how christians see our lifestyles…

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

[theendorisit]

I want to talk about some fun stuff I have had knocking around my head regarding the Magnus archives 

Note: is it Canon? I don’t know and I don’t care. @jonnywaistcoat gave us a bunch of fun toys to play with. I wanna play with them. I am not gonna tell anyone if their opinions on Magnus are right or wrong because it doesn’t matter! it’s a story. It’s fiction. It doesn’t matter if you picture white Archivist, black Archivist, asian Archivist - that’s how we end up with fun stuff like mermaid Tim! Imagine everything, and anything - it doesn’t matter, and that’s the fun of it! Also, I am keenly aware I am (checks watch) 8 years late to this fandom and I may be spouting stuff long since discussed, so forgive me if I am getting excited discovering long trodden ground.

I digress. So. One of the many things I love about Magnus is the fun and very clear metaphors that are used to describe the entities/ fears and what’s going on in the story. One of my favourites is the colour wheel theory. During the show I would get confused between the different entities particularly the stranger and the spiral but if the entities are like colours then this makes perfect sense: they do bleed into each other. So I wanted to try and transcribe these entities onto colours not thinking so much about which particular colour I think they ought to be, but how they complement or clash with each other. Disclaimer, not an artist. At all. I don’t know if I’ll do a good job - but that’s not really what I wanna talk about. 

Death/Terminus/The End isn’t a colour. Death is black-and-white. And death isn’t like any of the others.

This is just to say, that the way I read it - death, as an entity, is treated differently.

Jonny himself said in calls and livestreams that death was actually his main fear, maybe still is? So that might lend itself to different considerations.

In TMA, death is described as the fear of death, dying and nonexistence and all of that cosmological shit that most of us feel. However, TMA stories of death also include the opposite fear which is the fear of not being able to die. This is equivalent to the Eye finding someone who is afraid of being watched and putting them in a box, where no one can ever see them again.  The fact that this person in the pyramid can’t die and wants to, the fact the reapers, in escaping death achieve basic immortality - and often are not so sure they like it - this would be a very weird way to create a fear of death, by creating an apparent desire for it! 

So I think within the universe, this fear is special because it encapsulates itself and its opposite - whereas the other fears have distinct opposites which are separate entities (buried and vast, eye and dark). Not only that, but as season 5 showed us, there are fears that can combine and match with each other, and there’s no fear that death DOESN’T complement!  Like yes, actual death will stop fear, but a healthy dose of the fear of dying will go with everything. So in the colour wheel theory, I say fear of death is black and creates shades with other colours, and fear of not-death is white and creates tints (I just really like this metaphor!).

I’d love to make anthropomorphic art of the entities as individuals, and groups of individuals, based on matching colours. Example - Death, The Buried, The Corruption all work together as a buried alive fear. Unfortunately my fine art skills are dismal, so I’ll let more talented people have a go if they like this idea. I get why I haven’t seen so much of this, as the avatars kind of do this anthropomorphism, but death itself as a concept has been characterised for thousands of years (I am a big fan of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman’s versions!), and we have 4 (+1?) horsemen of the apocalypse bringing war and pestilence into humanoid form so I reckon it could be pretty interesting how people envision the entities. Personally I imagine the vast like Junji Ito’s Spiral-faced girl (she’ll pull you in!).

Anyway, that’s my perspective on blending fears like colours, and why Death really isn’t like any of the others.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

I really want to write fan fiction again but, I'm kind of bad at articulating and creating different scenes and I thought about using chatgpt and I know that's frowned upon but I need help writing lol. Need some advice.

Do not use AI. People look down upon it for a reason. People will always have more respect for genuine, clumsy first attempts at writing rather than someone who publishes what a machine spit out for them. AI is not your work, and you will not improve by having a computer do things for you. I am being stern here to strongly discourage you from Shit GPT. If you tell people in the author’s notes that it’s your first fic, or first fic in a long time, you may very well get supportive comments! If anyone finds out it’s AI, at best, you’ll get people clicking out of the fic because they don’t think it’s worth their time to read something a person didn’t even write, and at worst, you might get angry comments calling you a cheater, in a similar way AI “artists” do. Please don’t do it. You’ll only be hurting your writing and the progression of your skills.

So, what should you do? First of all, know where your strengths lie and lean into them, and know where your weaknesses lie. I’ll give an example. Readers of my fic can feel free to confirm or deny my self-assessment, but I actually don’t think scenery and that kind of descriptive writing is my strong point. I think about what the reader needs to know about the physical space in a scene, maybe little things that could add to the atmosphere, such as describing candlelight glowing upon someone’s face, and I move on. I make sure the reader knows what’s happening in the physical space so nothing is vague or confusing, but that’s about it. I instead focus my writing on the internal monologue/prose of the character’s emotional state and dialogue, because I think those are my strongest points. That’s what I can do well and what pulls people in.

How to create a scene to begin with? It depends on the kind of fic you’re writing, but most of my fics have started out with me thinking about the characters so much that different scenarios pop into my head, and eventually, one takes root; or I’ll watch a scene and think it would be interesting to explore if it had gone differently. My current WIP is at 65k words with 6 chapters, and it began with the simple change to one scene in canon: Aziraphale and Crowley not simply knowing each other in Heaven as angels, but having a romantic relationship. A starting point as simple as that can produce a lot. Think about what you actually want to say about these characters, what kinds of scenarios you want to see them in. You can even think of a type of fic you’d love to read, and instead write it yourself. You can start small! Instead of searching for a fluffy morning-after in bed, for example, write it!

Once you have a starting point, ask yourself what is the most realistic, in-character next step for these characters. Good fic relies on good character analysis. That’s how you make your fic in-character. I generally don’t plan out my fics a lot, and instead have a core idea and some future scenes I want to write, and I ask myself how these characters would naturally build up to those future scenes. Would it be natural for the character to say this? What would they do in this situation you put them in?

Lastly: the key to writing well is reading. This goes for all kinds of writing. Read widely, read often. It helps you expand your vocabulary and to see how descriptions, dialogue, and the structure of scenes and stories work in real time. I began writing as a young teen, and while I absolutely think my writing is better now than it was in my first fics published in 2014, I was able to write at all because I was such a voracious reader at the time. It’s also why I was a good writer in school, because reading helps you write multiple types of pieces.

I hope this was helpful. Also, at the end of the day, it is just fan fiction. It’s fine if it’s not perfect. Open up a document and start jotting down ideas or snippets of dialogue to get your brain started

[kaarijatits]

about reblogs... first of all I absolutely love your's and everyone else art or anything they create and share and I'm super thankful for having a chance to see it 💚

one - what other's have mentioned before is general social media usage where 'like' is the primary reaction.

two - is a bit personal... it's how I feel and maybe I'm the only one, but for me it's that I'm terribly afraid of being perceived (that's why I'm on anon :'l ). Kä's community seems like a very tight and very talented group of friends mainly having conversations in the tags, and I often feel like if I don't have anything neat to say - then I'm just barging into a friends group uninvited.. even if I know it's completely unreasonable and not true. It's very hard to shake off the feeling that if I reblog too much, OP will look at me and think "ahhh this weirdo again". So I'd use likes instead, because mostly no one notices who gives likes so it's much easier, but then it seems everyone hates likes so I stopped leaving them too (´･･`)

what I wanted to say maybe for some people it's not that they don't appreciate the art and the effort, but more internal lurker struggles that make it very hard to react appropriately?.. (I'm trying to work on that)

hi anon, thanks for sharing your thoughts with me <3 makes me so happy to know you enjoy my art <3<3

i made that post because i'm just a small blog, so i get it, but then i saw art from -in my opinion- popular artists with several notes that are mostly likes, i thought it was just the kä fandom. I come from a huge fandom where 1k notes post are very common, and today i checked again and the proportion of rb and likes are similar (or worst? 200 rb and 800 likes 🥴), so... it’s just how tumblr works i guess

However, on tumblr what keeps a post alive are reblogs, but it’s fine if you don’t like something or just ignore it, we can’t expect to everyone to love what we do, but sometimes (more than i'd like to admit) i think “maybe is not good enough”. Personally, when people share their thoughts in the tags, it makes me so happy (I always read what people say on my art, it’s one of my favorite things to do, but i rarely respond because i don’t want to be annoying 💀...)

Being afraid of being perceived is something i can relate to, sometimes it feels like everyone here are friends but you... but tumblr is make for reblogs and silly tags, you can talk whatever, interactions are completely fine, rarely I've seen people getting mad because reblogs 🤔

If you reblog a lot from me, definitely i won’t think your weird, of course i’ll notice you but i'll think fondly of you 💕 because you enjoyed something i made, and sometimes when people say that my art cheer them up a little, it's one of the best feelings...

and well don’t worry too much about it, if you don’t want to say anything in the tags is okay you still can reblog, with a little heart or emoji or simple nothing <3 and if you don't want to reblog at all is valid... first of all, take care of yourself and what is more comfortable for you <3

[caramelmillktea]

𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

Pairing(s) : tattoo!artist!Vi x florist!fem!reader

proofread : Yes/no/semi

wordcount fic : 1.608 words

warnings : swearing

author's note : I have a feeling the vi x reader hashtag is dying slowely?? So I'm here to spice it up a bit. Anyhow I wanted say thank you for reading my story!! It brings a smile on my face to see y'all enjoying this story. This story has been so fun and comforting to write :)

        previous part         masterlist          next part

It was a Saturday afternoon. The sun rays shone through the windows creating a magical atmosphere. It was quiet in your flower shop, the only thing you could hear was the soft chimes of your wind chime. You could hear your cat meowing as she approached you. "Hey there whiskers" you squat down to her level and scratch her behind her ear. She meowed in response. 

You heard the doorbell chime signaling someone has entered. Your cat ran quickly into the room at the back. You stood up to see who your next customer was. A young slim pale woman entered the shop, she had dark blue hair and blue eyes. 

"Hi there Caitlyn!" You smiled and gave her a small wave. Caitlyn waved back to you as she made her way over to the counter. "What brings you in today?"

"I need your advice on something" You caught you by surprise. Has she really driven here just for your advice? She had your phone number so she could've texted you.

"Sure thing, what's up Cait?" God, you hated seeing Caitlyn so worried.

"I recall you saying that certain flowers have certain meanings" 

"Yeah, why?" You saw that something was bothering her but you didn't know what it was. "Caitlyn, hey…. Are you ok?"

"...My father fell ill a few days ago" Caitlyn's voice seemed small. 

"I'm so sorry to hear that, how is he holding up?"

"The doctor's said that it was just a fever but I can't help but worry." Caitlyn's gaze lowered to the counter.

"Don't worry about it." You put a hand on her shoulder. "Things will turn out to be fine. He'll be better before you know it. There is nothing to worry about."

Caitlyn was quiet before speaking up. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just overthinking it." Caitlyn put a hand on yours. "Thanks Y/n." 

"Anytime" you gave her a small smile. "So, what did you need my advice on-" 

You were cut off by the front door slamming open, the little doorbell above flying off its place. You jumped and made a little noise of surprise. You and Caitlyn.

"Y/NNNNNN!" Jinx whined, standing in the doorway, an empty plastic box was in her fingerless gloved hand. "You promised you'd give me a batch of cookies around 1 pm but it's currently 1:01 pm. 

"Hello to you too Jinx." you regained your posture again. 

Jinx walked towards you but stopped in her tracks when she made eye contact with Caitlyn.

"Caitlyn." Jinx gave her a frosty look which Caitlyn returned.

"Powder " 

You could feel the temperature getting cooler in the room. They knew each other? Guess it's a small world afterall. You looked between the females before speaking up.

"I'm sorry Jinx, but a friend of mine is visiting me and I lost track of time. I have the cookies ready upstairs but first I'm going to help my customer." You explained "you can wait and take a seat on the stool right over there if you want to sit." You gestured to the black stool where Vi would sit most of the time.

"Alright, I'll just wait right over there" she points her finger towards the stool. "Goodluck helping out your 'friend'" Jinx grins and sits down on the stool. Her legs stretched out in front of her. 

"Now where were we?" You turned your attention back to Caitlyn. 

"I recall you saying that certain flowers have certain meanings correct?" 

"That's correct indeed."

"Is there a flower that means good health or something?"

"There indeed is. Should I make a get-well-soon bouquet?"

"That would be wonderful." You nodded and started working on a bouquet, grabbing the flowers you needed.

When you were done with the bouquet, you handed it to Caitlyn. "It's on the house Cait"

"I couldn't…" Cait humbling refused. 

"Please, I insist. When I went to piltover for the first time your dad welcomed me with open arms, this is the least I could do." Cait nodded and thanked you. 

"Send him my regards." 

"I will." Cait gave you a grateful smile. She turned around to leave but froze as made eye contact with the tall, athletic form in front of her. 

“Hey Vi! Here to sketch again?" You smiled but Vi didn't respond. Her attention was focused on Caitlyn. 

"Vi?" "

“Caitlyn?” 

“Y/n” The blue haired girl on the stool said. Vi and Catlyn looked at Jinx.

“ What? I thought we were saying each other's names. You two already said each other's name so I said Y/n.” Jinx petted Whiskers while looking at the three of you. Caitlyn gave Jinx a glare. Jinx ignored her glare and turned her attention back to Whiskers.

You looked at Caitlyn and Vi.6 You didn’t know they knew each other. Guess it's a small world afterall. Though you couldn’t quite figure out what their relationship was between the two of them.

“... I should get going,” Cailyn said after a while. “It was nice seeing you again…”  

“... Likewise.” Vi mumbled and nodded. “Thank you again for the flowers.”

“Like I said, it was my pleasure.”

Caitlyn nodded before making her way towards the front door. Vi’s pale gray eyes met Caitlyn’s blue ones when she walked past her. Vi followed Caitlyn’s form with her eyes when she left the shop. 

“Welp… That was awkward ” Jinx called out, breaking the silence. Vi glared at her little sister. 

“What? It’s the truth!” Jinx threw her hands up in defense.

“I didn’t know you knew Caitlyn Vi. Was she a friend of yours?”

“Oh yeah, they were ‘very good’ friends” Jinx giggled. 

Vi looked at Jinx. “Yeah, you could say that...” 

“Cailtyn was Vi’s girlfriend.” Jinx said as the cat escaped from her grasp, she pouted.

“Powder!” 

“What? What are you gonna do? Tell Vander I was being annoying?” Jinx said, daring.

“I don’t need to tell Vander when I can do it myself.” Vi said confidently.

“Oohhh so scary.” Jinx said sarcastically. “You’re gonna give me another lecture? Oh I’m so scared.”

“No arcade for a week!” 

“I don’t go there anymore.” Jinx retorts.

“Fine! no more.. tv.”

“I can always draw or watch tv at someone else's place….” Jinx trailed off.

“No more going to Ekko again for a week.” 

“What!? No!”

“If you keep this up I need to take precautions.” 

“That’s cruel, even for you.”

“Don’t test me” Vi walked over to Jinx. “Also what are you doing here? Don’t you have homework to do or something at home?” 

“Already did.” Jinx responded. “And to answer your first question, Toots here promised me a fresh batch of cookies.” Jinx turned to you. “Right Y/n?”

“Yup.” You shifted your focus to Jinx “Wait here Jinx, I’ll get the cookies from upstairs.” You said before disappearing into the backroom.

“Man, you should really get you a girlfriend like that Vi.” Jinx bowed forward, her elbows propped up on her thighs and her hand resting in her hands. “Imagine all the delicious pastries you can get for free.”

“Is that the only thing you like about her? Her baking?” Vi chuckled.

“No, but it's one of her many good qualities. I’d say go for her.”

“She’s taken and you know it.” Vi said.

“So? It’s time she’d get a partner who isn’t an asshole.”

“Language!”

“What?! I’m old enough to say words like that.” Jinx protested.

“Aren’t you like fourteen years old or something?” Vi teased.

“I’m seventeen, excuse you!”

You walked in with a plastic container filled with cookies. “ What were the two of you talking about? I could hear the banter from the second floor.” You chuckled. 

“Nothing important, we were just talking.”

“Yeahhh” Jinx joined in. “We were just talking.”

You looked at the two sisters but shrugged. “Here Jinx.” You handed the plastic container. “The cookies.”

Jinx’s face lit up and hugged the container close to her. “Thank you so much!!” Jinx went up to you and gave you a quick hug. Jinx stuck out her tongue towards Vi and blew a raspberry before leaving the shop. Vi rolled her eyes at her little sister's antics. You giggled at the two sisters' interaction.

“Your sister really needs to slow down with those pastries.” You laughed.

“I mean, she isn’t the only one who eats them. Hell, even my dad eats them too.” Vi chuckled.

“I just realized you never talked about your dad.” You said before covering your mouth. Maybe she had a reason why she never talks about her parents. “You don’t have to tell me of course but I just realized it."

"Nah, I don't mind." Vi smiled and sat down on the black stool with a loud thund. "There isn't really anything interesting to tell. Vander runs a bar called the last drop. Even though he isn't my biological dad, he is the closest thing I've had to a father figure." Vi smiled a little at the thought. 

"So what about you?" Vi looked up at you. "Why don't you talk much about your parents?"

You sucked in a breath. "Oh no reason, there isn't anything to tell really" your voice cracked a bit as you smiled. Your fingers playing with the scissors causing it to open and close.

"My parents are traveling a lot, they wanted to 'live their old days' to the fullest" You laughed weakly.

"Do you still talk to them?" You stopped playing with the scissors. "Yup! They sometimes call me every now and then, I believe they're currently in the Bahamas." You smiled.

Vi looked at you before saying. "That's nice." With a smile.

[breakerwhiskey]

237 - TWO HUNDRED THIRTY SEVEN

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

“Dead over there. Where you’re from.”

So. Junior is…supposed to be dead? In the—the proper timeline or whatever you want to call it? So if he…if he died here…

[click, static]

Nope, I can’t think about that. Not—not right now anyway. Maybe later, Harriet and I can…

[click, static]

I guess I haven’t really said much about our grand reunion. Well, it wasn’t that grand. I told her where to go, she remembered enough about the song to figure out where it was, and she showed.

It’s…it’s fine. It’s good. It’s terrible. I don’t know. We—

Well, we’re not really talking about anything, you know? Everything that happened before I left, everything that’s happened since, her being alone this whole time, me finding Donnie and then…

Harriet actually—well, unlike Donnie, she wanted to come on the radio with me, “if I insist on broadcasting still”. But I…

I told her no. I don’t know who’s listening to this anymore—or at all. I never know if Birdie is going to drop off the face of the earth, or if Fox gave up, or if there are other people out there who can hear my voice and just not speak back. But this is…this is mine. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m not—I’m not gatekeeping the radio waves from Harriet. She has her own radio, if she wants to broadcast, she can.

But I don’t want to argue with her on here. I don’t want to have my thoughts and feelings and perceptions called into question when I’m just trying to get all those things out, work through them. And she hasn’t done that so far, not yet but I— I can’t think straight around her. And I need to be able to…I need to keep a level head. I need—

We still haven’t talked about Don. She started to say sorry, but I cut her off before she could finish. I couldn’t bear to hear how to finished it. Would it have been “sorry for your loss”? Or “sorry you blame me for Don’s death”? “Sorry I betrayed you”? “Sorry I led you on for years and we still haven’t—“

[click, static]

It is both harder and easier to be angrier at her when I’m with her. Easier because I have something to aim at, because sometimes I’ll look at her and I’ll see her face in the moment that I told her I—

And then other times, she’ll enter a room and I’ll get that whiff of lavender and turpentine and everything inside me just…melts.

I want to be able to make her the villain in my story—I remember thinking…those first few days I was driving around, I remember thinking that if I found someone, if I really found someone else and we got to talk and get to know each other and really form a bond…well, you know how you practice conversations in your head? Ones you had ten years ago, ones you’re planning to have, ones you know you’ll never have. Well, I would practice talking to this imaginary person and telling the story of my life. It would be so easy to make Harriet the villain—rival into turncoat into nemesis. There’s a clean narrative there, one that I wouldn’t have to lie about to tell. Leave certain things out maybe but…that imaginary person, they’d believe me. They’d be on my side.

But I didn’t find anyone. I just kept talking to the open airwaves and it was so much harder to keep the story straight when I wasn’t telling it all at once. When my feelings on the subject changed every day. When I hadn’t seen Harriet in months and I started to miss her so badly I’d get in my car and start driving back to Pennsylvania only to turn around when I had to stop to refill my gas tank.

I never told you that, I don’t think. I spent so much time, wasted so many miles driving back to her. I always turned around right back around again, had to watch the same road go by.

So maybe I haven’t done a good job of making the story simple, me as hero, her as villain, but the story I’ve been telling is still mine. And I don’t—I’m not ready for her to tell her side of it.

[click, static]

[simplywhytney]

Chapter 2.02 - A Princess Royal

For Tatiana, Princess Royal was a title she did not care for or embrace. To her friends and family she was just Tia, or Tiana—a teenager who loved to explore her creative side. She was in the art studio, brooding and staring at a blank canvas.

That was how her mother, Andrea, found her. “What’s on your mind, Tia?”

“Are you and Dad okay, are you getting a divorce?” Tatiana asked.

“Sweetie, your dad and I are fine. Even if we weren’t, it’s not something you need to worry about. Where is this coming from?”

“I saw a story in the paper yesterday. Dad said he thought the old ways weren’t all bad, and he’d consider having an imperial concubine.”

“Oh, Tia. It was just a joke. You know your father. Some of his jokes can be really inappropriate.” Explained Andrea as she sat down next to her daughter.

“It didn’t seem like a joke.”

“Tatiana, it was just a joke. What are you working on?”Asked Andrea, in an attempt to change the subject.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I want it to be something profound. I’m going to enter it into the rising artists competition. I really want to place this year.” Tatiana said.

“Oops.” Andrea laughed as she made a huge red slash across Tatiana’s blank canvas.

“Mom! Why?!”

“You’re thinking too much. Sometimes, you just have to let go. Make strokes for no rhyme or reason. You’ll either come out with a masterpiece, or something you think is total crap. Either way, you’ve created something. And if you think it’s crap, at least you’ve gotten it out of the way and can create something spectacular.”

“Ugh, is this another one of your life lessons wrapped in a painting metaphor?” Tatiana asked.

“Maybe.” Andrea kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner. I’ve got to speak to your father about a couple of things for the gala next week.”

“When are you going to paint with me again It’s been so long since we did that.”

“I know. I’ll make time for us to paint this weekend. I want to see what you’re going to come up with for the competition!”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Make sure to wash up and clean up before coming up for dinner.”

“Yes mom.” Tatiana rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you at dinner, love you.”

“Back at you.” Tatiana made finger pistols and invoked a laugh from her mother.

[ibasae]

Sprout*Waning Hermitage - Monday 2

Shu: ...(lightly stretching)

hm?

Mika: G'morning, Oshi-san! Sorry I kept ya waitin'~

Shu: You're fine. The meeting time hasn't passed yet. But you're late in the sense that you're usually here before me.

Mika: Yeah~ But I've got a good reason. Hajime-kun made breakfast, so I only came after I've ate.

After all, I figured I should have a good breakfast in the mornin' if we're having practice today.

Ah, Hajime-kun is a good cook~! Steaming hot rice and miso soup, with hijiki and a hard boiled egg to top it off. Would ya make it for me, Oshi-san?

Shu: I'm full just hearing about it... You'd get heartburn if you eat that much in the mornings, plus I prefer a western breakfast anyways.

Mika: Ah~... That's right, Oshi-san eats very little.

I used to eat little too, and I liked to eat ugly looking things, but recently I've been findin' things "delicious." My appetite might've increased from that?

Plus, people would make me things or send me things while I'm at the dorm.

Shu: I'm not against you eating, I'm saying that you shouldn't eat too much. If you can't fit in the clothes I make, or if it affects your performances, I'll certainly be beside myself with rage.

Mika: Scary...! 'Course I know that...!

Shu: Then let's start practicing. For people that seeks perfection such as ourselves, time is always running out too quickly.

Kagehira, take a look at these.

Mika: Eh? What's this stack of paper for?

Shu: Goodness... It's the storyboard for the new song's MV.

Mika: Eh?! We just got the concept yesterday, and ya already made the storyboard?!

Shu: No need to be shocked. It's been a whole day. There's definitely room for improvement, but it's better than nothing.

Mika: No, this is more than enough. Oshi-san's so cool, you work so fast!

Shu: That's only because you have too much free time.

Mika: Ehehe, maybe so. I'll skim the storyboard. Hm...?

Wuee-----eh? a marionette...?

Oshi-san, I get that we have to work off my concept, but why did the artist create a marionette? Don't artists draw 'n paint 'n stuff? Plus, this feels very ex-Valkyire-y.

Shu: Ah, we're creating a fairytale---which takes concepts of the past. Which is why we are working with a common concept from Ex-Valkyrie.

Paitings and sculptures... I bounced around many ideas themeing them as concepts of eternity, seals of the past, etc etc, and still thought a marionette was the easiest to work with.

Compared to something inorganic. humans are likely to resonate more with something that looks like them and are more likely to be captivated by that as well.

Artists are more or less interested in humans, so there's many a few artists that are also experts in medical science. So, I've chosen the marionette---the closest to actual humanity---as a theme.

Mika: Uwah~ So that's the case. The MV looks supa pretty from the storyboard.

But is it really okay to have such a detailed set? Wouldn't we be spendin' too much money? Wouldn't the people at the agency get mad...

Shu: That's quite alright. I've already spoken with the agency. Back to the topic at hand---have you memorized everything?

Mika: Yup! I have it by heart. Let's start practicin', Oshi-san!

Mika: ♪~ ♪~

Shu: (Hm?)

Kagehira, stop for a second.

Mika: What's wrong, Oshi-san? Did I do somethin' wrong?

Shu: It's not that. It's just... something doesn't feel right.

You don't feel like a marionette. Can you try to radiate the energy you did in ex-Valkyrie?

Mika: Ah, okay. I see, let me try again.

Shu: ...

Start over, Kagehira. Use your imagination more.

...

Non! This is not the quality I'll settle with at all.

Mika: Ngh~...

Shu: NON! Absolutely not. This wasn't what I was going for at all!

Mika: But Oshi-san... I dunno what I'm missin'~...

Shu: (He's not missing anything---on the flip side, he's actually giving too much. Although I am beyond happy that he's more human now, and I've accepted Kagehira as an artist.... I never thought it'd become an obstacle in our work.)

It's not just about having a monotone facial expression, your fingertips are still overflowing with life. Can you even call that "having nothing?"---if you can't have the mindset of a monk, you won't be able to achieve "eternity."

Mika: Even if ya say that... Hm, life... I'm just tryin' ta remember my old self...

Shu: There's nothing I can do for you, so let's just end the practice today. You aren't in the mood so there's no use wasting our time.

Kagehira, I hope you deliver a more outstanding performance tomorrow.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Happy anniversary and 1000+ followers!!! I would love to hear more about what it was like for Shinji and Hinamori settling into/creating a new version of the 5th Division together, after over a year of post-Aizen interim. (Maybe bonus Genji reference??) **Also, if you would like to do a trade I would be happy to see what I can do with a prompt, too! :D

As Months Go By, As Seasons Change - Part I

Rating: K+/Teen

Setting: the 17 months between the end of the Fake Karakura Town arc and the beginning of the Lost Agent arc.

Synopsis: Momo resumes her duties as lieutenant, Shinji returns to a role he was forced out of long ago.  Both of them are not who they used to be, and neither is the division they must work together to rebuild.

AN: I finally get to write a fic for this brotp, and it shows! I didn't realise I had a lot to write about them until I started and just kept going and going and going, and now I have one of the longest fics I've ever written. Because of this, I decided this needed to be split in two, so here's part one with part two hopefully coming soon.

I decided to skip retelling their first meeting and other parts involving them from Death Save the Strawberry, but for context’s sake you can go read about it over at BLEACH’s wiki if you’re not familiar with it. Also, a some notes before we begin:

Genji, the Fifth Division’s third seat, only appears in ‘We do KNOT Always Love You’, so there isn’t much to go off about his character in terms of personality and how long he’s been with Fifth Division. We do know he graduated the same year as Izuru and was not in the same class as he, Renji, and Hinamori. In this fic, I’ll be writing him as someone who has served in Fifth for about five decades and he and Hinamori are good work-friends.

While Shinji kept his distance from Aizen 110 years ago, I don’t think this was the case for the rest of the division. He wasn’t friends with everyone or anything, but he got on well with his subordinates and had a genuine care for them and wanted the division to be a friendly place.

If you’re curious, the vinyl Genji pulls out is here (middle bottom row) and you can take a listen to it here. I imagine Shinji would be into a wide range of jazz music (from blues to fusion to soul) across the decades and not just from Japanese musicians and artists.

The plants talked about are Japanese maple trees (momiji), lily of the valley (suzuran), Japanese buttercups (Umanoahigata) and irises (Ayame). The meaning Aizen spouts for the latter I got from my [limited] research into Hanakotoba, the Japanese flower language.

This ended up feeling like three one-shots and a bunch of random moments all rolled into one, so sorry if the pacing is off.

With all of that out of the way, @whipplefilter, I hope this was worth the wait, that I did these two justice, and that you enjoy this!

Edit: you can read part 2 here.

________________________

Hinamori looks at the folded shihakusho on her bedside table. After a pause, she runs her hand over the obi that lay on top. She remembers how to tie it around her waist, like a reflex and without a second thought. It's irrational, but she's relieved she can still recall how to put on her uniform.

However, looking at her reflection in the window, dressed in the hospital robes with her hair tied over one shoulder, doubt creeps in again. She can put on a uniform just fine, but that didn’t mean she could do everything else. How can she wonder around the barracks and act as if nothing happened? What if she’s only reminded of Captain Aizen?

She cringes at the thought of him. Maybe this really was a mistake after all.

She shakes her head. No, everyone’s waiting for me. I can’t let them down.

It’s this thought that motivates her to dress out of her hospital robes and into her uniform. She thinks about Genji and the rest of the Fifth Division, about the other lieutenants and her friends in other divisions, about the Junrinan, and, with some hesitation, Hitsugaya. Finally, after she has completely changed into the shihakusho, she thinks about the new captain.

The chat they had a few days ago, it sparked something in her. Even if she had tried to, nothing she or anyone else could have said or done would have put the flames out. Shinji Hirako spoke of those waiting for her – correcting her in saying they hadn’t left or abandoned her, that they were waiting – and of how highly regarded she is among every Fifth Division members and other lieutenants.

She tries to imagine the reaction his appointment to captain must have gotten amongst the division. The older members probably knew him from over a hundred years ago. What must have they thought when they realised he hadn’t died or abandoned the Gotei Thirteen? The newer ones must have been irked or worried, some probably not even having heard of this man. As far as they’re concerned he’s new, someone who hadn’t been in touch with the Fifth Division let alone the Soul Society for decades. He’d come from the World of Living and didn’t have to do much to become a captain again.

And he was becoming their captain in a time when they’re all reeling from the lies they’ve been living under. Regardless of whether they were old or new, she imagined almost everyone in his division wouldn’t be too trusting of him right away. He would’ve had to earn just the most basic trust in the last week, who knew how long it would take before they could all trust him completely.

But then, did she trust him?

She is not her old self and never would be. She is not so far gone that she distrusts every new person she meets, and she was never so naïve as to believe everyone was good to their core; but now she knew just how cruel people could be, especially those who never showed their true weaknesses. Her life before Aizen’s betrayal had felt like a fantasy, carefully crafted for her to always be content and not question a thing about the world she lived in. She’d been blinded by him, and even now she criticizes herself, tries to understand how she never once thought to look for a fault in him.

Even so, with a longing that made her want to get back into her hospital bed and pretend she never recovered, she wanted to go back to that life. To live under an illusion she was familiar with, where life seemed so idyllic.

She bites the inside of her mouth, hard. Again she needs to remind herself: that life is gone now, and she’ll try to face whatever life she lives in now.

“Hinamori-san, are you ready?”

The question from behind the door startles her. “Oh, um…”

She quickly resumes folding up her hospital robes and then gathering the few things she has on the bedside table. “Yes, Kotetsu-san!” she says without stopping.

The door slides open, and when she looks over her shoulder, there stands Isane, her smile now not one of pity or sympathy. The lieutenant steps in and then to the side of the door. “If you’re ready to go, Captain Hirako is here.”

Before Hinamori can say anything and as if on cue, the new captain walks in. His smile is toothy and wide, and she gets the distinct impression it’s how he naturally smiles despite how strange it seems.

But that isn’t what gives her pause. Up until now she’d only seen him in two outfits: the World of the Living clothing when they first met, and then a few days later in a shihakusho before he went to his captain ceremony. She stares at his haori for longer than the necessary; it’s almost alien to her, as if it were one of the articles of clothing from the World of the Living he wore.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, then gestures to the doorway. “You ready to go?”

Hinamori straightens and tilts her head to one side. She’d thought she would pack her things and make her own way back, getting a send-off from Isane at the Fourth Division’s entrance at most, but otherwise just slowly making her way back to the division.

But here Shinji is, ready to walk her back, to accompany her on what felt like a long road back. Of course he is, all the captains generally do so when their lieutenants are about to be discharged from Fourth Division.

Somehow though, she gets the sense this isn’t just out of obligation either. He seems genuinely happy to see her, and now it’s infectious because she’s a little happy to see him too. He's a little rough around the edges, but he’d been kind to her.

“Yes,” she says when she realises he’s waiting for a response. “I’m ready to go, Captain.”

It takes her far too much effort to get the title out, and if the way his smile falls is any indication, he can tell. She’s told herself repeatedly that this man will be her new captain, but somehow the title still hasn’t stuck to him in her mind yet.

However, his smile hadn’t gone entirely; it’s close-lipped and smaller, but no less genuine. As he closes the gap between them, he reaches into his left sleeve. “Well, actually, you’re almost ready to go.”

She frowns at that. “What do you mean?” She looks to Isane, who still stands at the door. “Did I forget something?”

Isane shakes her head with a knowing look. “You’ve signed all the paperwork you needed to.”

When she turns back to the captain, he pulls out something from his sleeve and holds it out to her. “Here.”

Hinamori blinks down at the lieutenant’s badge, as it’s the first time she’s ever been presented with it. Swallowing against the tightness building in her throat, she slowly takes it in both hands. She can’t look up, her head suddenly too heavy to lift. She presses her lips together and blinks against the threat of tears.

She’s really going back to the Fifth Division. Not just as a subordinate, but as it’s lieutenant.

It’s been months since she last walked in the hallways she knew like the back of her hand or slept in her quarters or tended the gardens in the courtyards or ate with her subordinates in the mess hall or sat on one of the verandas and did her paperwork on sunny days. None of it would be the same. She wasn’t the same.

She thinks to ask Shinji if he’s truly certain about this, that he really wanted her back on as lieutenant of the Fifth Division, but what she holds in her hands is answer enough. “Thank you.”

______________________________

Shinji watches her from the other side of the rambunctious hall. She gives everyone around her a startled smile, trying to talk to all of them at once while colour rushes up into her cheeks. She’d been stunned when he slid the door open for her and a chorus of cheers erupted from within. For a moment he thought she’d faint – it was probably too much considering she’d only just recovered – but she surprised him when tears welled up again and she smiled widely and bowed, thanking everyone.

Everyone wanted to see her, to quickly speak with her before she went to her quarters, but they also knew to give her space and wait for her to come to them.

He hates how it reminds him of Aizen. Was it the way his subordinates just gravitated to her? He got the impression that even if this wasn’t a welcome back celebration they’d still go to her, smile at her and greet her as she walked by.

No, it wasn’t just that. Maybe he still can’t get over what the other lieutenants and his division members had said about her. She was a hard worker, punctual, kind, compassionate, and she’d eventually gotten the moniker of ‘Tiger of Paperwork’. The latter brought the slightest smile back, but the other things, they hit a bit too close to home. She isn’t Aizen, he knows that, but he knows just how influential he was one her. Had he changed her from how she used to be? Was it a result of that blinding admiration she and others spoke about, or was she always like this?

“Sir?”

Shinji turns to Genji Isawa, his third seat. “Ah, sorry, spaced out there. You need something, Isawa?”

Genji shakes his head. “Nothing major. Just letting you know I’ve got everything ready for tomorrow.”

Shinji steps away from the wall he'd been leaning back on. “Good. My meeting shouldn’t take too long, but if you finish early, don't feel the need to wait for me. You should get to the training afterwards.”

“Of course.” Genji watches his lieutenant talk with everyone, his smile widening. “It’s good to see her in high spirits. While I visited her in the Fourth Division, I could tell she was trying to save face. There was a time when…” His smile falters. He looks back to Shinji, who’s a little caught off guard by how candid his third seat was being. “Sir, I’ve never thanked you for helping Lieutenant Hinamori.”

Shinji tries to wave it off. “Nah, it was nothing. She’s a strong one, you know?”

“She is, but it was because of you she got out of Fourth Division and is still our lieutenant. Whatever you said to her, it’s brought her back here.” As if realizing how impassioned he sounds, Genji pauses and bows his head. “Forgive me, Captain. I’ve known the Lieutenant for decades, and I and everyone else have been concerned for her. As you’re aware, when Captain Ai…When Aizen betrayed us, she took it the hardest out of all of us.” He raises his head. “We didn’t want to lose her, so thank you for choosing to reappoint her as our lieutenant.”

Shinji watches her again. Yes, in small aspects she reminds him of Aizen, but…

“I understand. Fifth Division’s always been a pretty chummy place, hasn’t it?” His smile gets a little wider. “At least she kept that going while I was gone.”

______________________________

Stepping back into her old room had been one thing, but stepping back into the office is something else entirely. At least in her room, Hinamori knew nothing was likely to be moved or touched, and if she cried no one would see her get emotional. Even though she returned to it far different than who she was before, she could call it her own space and knew what to expect. She knew to avoid looking at the upper shelves of her bookcase where she kept her sketchbooks and the few novels Aizen had gifted her, and she knew that she wouldn’t sleep well on her first night back, even surrounded by the things that had no memories attached to him.

This office, changed or no, it will surely make her remember the times before. She’ll either long for the way the office used to be, or wish the new captain had changed the setup, or maybe she’ll react in a way that even she can’t predict. She wishes she had Renji’s resilience, that attitude he used to exude at the Academy: sometimes you’ve got to do it, even if it’s painful. But isn't that what she's trying to do now?

With a trembling hand, she reaches out and clutches the handle.

“Lieutenant.”

Hinamori twists to her right. Genji approaches, his strides purposeful and wide as his smile. Despite the nerves thrumming through her, she can’t help but smile back. “Good morning, Isawa-kun.”

“I thought you’d still be in the mess hall,” he says, coming to a stop in front of the office doors. “I was going to set everything up before you came.”

“Ah, well, I didn’t think I should stay too long.” She gestures to the stack of documents he carries under his arm. “You must have a lot to update me on.”

His smile falls and a concerned frown takes its place. “It would have been fine if you wanted to talk with everyone for a little while longer.”

Hinamori raises her hands defensively. “Oh, don’t get me wrong! It was great to eat breakfast with everyone, I really enjoyed talking with them and finding out what’s been happening around here.” She sighs, lowering her hands. “But while talking with everyone, it just made me want to get back to my duties all the more. Our division…it’s going to be different from now on, whether we like it or not, and I need to know where things stand for us.”

Genji nods. “It’s true. Must admit, it’s taken some getting used to with Captain Hirako.”

Hinamori chews on the inside of her lip. Then, after some hesitation. “How do you find him?”

“The Captain?” Genji raises a brow and his gaze in thought. “I think he’s a good man. He’s not like Capt – Aizen.” The effect the name has passes between for a moment before the third seat continues. “He’s got some interesting…interests. I think that’s mainly a result of his time in the World of the Living. This morning he was wearing something called a 'tie' around his neck, you’ll probably see him wearing it when he comes back.

“I’m sure you’ve seen while speaking him that he gets to the point. It might come across as blunt, but he means well. It also helps he already knows what the role entails, so he doesn’t have to brought up to speed.” He chuckles weakly. “Must admit, I thought because of how long he had been in the World of the Living, he’d have forgotten. He showed me, that's for sure.”

Hinamori only nods in response, unsure how to react to Genji’s observations. So far, it matched with her own experiences with him, right down to his strange choice in clothes from the World of the Living.

He grins. “I knew for sure he was a good person when he reinstated you as lieutenant. There’s no one else who can do this job better than you.”

That tugs at her heart. “A-And you thought I could? Even when I was bedridden?”

“We all did. We just knew you had to take your time, but whenever you came around, we’d all be there to help you and each other. It’s the Fifth Division way, right?”

She looks at her third seat, really looks at him for the first time in a while. She’s worked with him for decades; no one is as fast as he is in combat and he’s a diligent worker when it comes to the desk job side of things. She knew only bits and pieces of his personal life: he came from one of the higher districts in the south, has two adoptive parents and a younger brother he looks after and visits on days off, and he likes spicy foods. She knows he took over her duties – writing reports, going to lieutenant meetings, overseeing training – but he would have had to take over some captain duties too. A lot had been put on his shoulders, and despite the faintest bags under his eyes and his shoulders not being as pushed back as they normally are, he still manages to smile and carry on like his usual optimistic self.

Hinamori fixes him with a solemn gaze. “You’ve done a lot for the division, Isawa-kun. More than a third seat should ever do.” She bows her head. “I’ll never forget it, and I will make it up to you and everyone else. I promise I will work hard to show your belief in me wasn’t wasted.”

“Ah, that’s not necessary!”

She straightens. “Things are going to be different from now on, but you’ve kept the division’s spirit going through this time. You made sure that didn’t change.” She thinks to apologies, but somehow, despite the guilt welled up in her, it doesn’t feel right. No, instead she finds herself saying, “Thank you, Isawa-kun.”

Genji stands a little taller; then after a beat, he bows. “Welcome back, Lieutenant. It is truly good to have you back with us.”

She smiles in return, and somehow manages to stop yet another barrage of emotions from surfacing as tears. “And it’s good to be back.” She glances back at the office door. “We should get started with the updates you need to give me.”

“Yes, of course. It won’t take too long I hope. I need to oversee the flash-step training.”

Her smile widens at that. “Still the fastest in the division, then?”

“I have a reputation to keep!” he says with a laugh, and Hinamori join ins. If there was anyone who could keep the division buoyant during these troubling times without leadership, it’s Genji with his infectious smiles and laughs.

But the laughter dies down and there’s a pause. Hinamori realises he’s waiting for her to open the door. She takes in a breath, holds it for a second longer, and as she breathes out as quietly and naturally as she can, slides the door aside.

Genji walks past her while she is stunned, unable to move.

“I probably should have warned you,” he says ruefully, back still turned to her as he goes to the captain’s desk. “Captain Hirako rearranging the office a little. I made your desk stay where it was, I wasn’t sure if you wanted it changed or not.”

Hinamori stares into the office not with anxiety or dread or guilt, but in bewilderment.

As Genji had said, her desk remained - save for the fresh flowers in the small vase she kept in the right-hand corner – but the captain’s desk was no longer opposite hers on the left side of the room. It’s now close to the back wall with all sorts of strange accoutrements and objects along the front, and next it is a strange box on a stand with a wheel at the end of each leg. Behind the desk are the two bookcases which are mostly stocked with tomes of Soul Society laws and division records.

She points to the glossy, colourful assortment of whatever lines the middle shelf of one bookcase. “What…are those?” But before Genji could provide an answer, she also points at the box next to the captain’s desk. “And what’s that?”

“Those are Captain Hirako’s.” Genji sets the documents aside on the captain’s desk, goes to the closest bookcase, and pulls out one of the things from a shelf. “He calls them 'vinyls', or 'records' sometimes. They have music on them.” From what Hinamori realises is a cover, Genji pulls out a large disc. “Apparently the older members remember these from when he was captain a century years ago. I don’t really know how to set it up, but he plays it using the record player over there. You’ll see him do it at some point. He brought all of these with him from the World of the Living.”

Hinamori looks between the vinyl record and its cover. The latter had a strange red and blue visual, it almost reminds her of the inside of the Twelfth Division’s labs. On the left side it reads ‘Made Up City - Casiopea’. She purses her lips. “He plays music while he works?”

Genji slips the vinyl record back into its cover and puts it back on the shelf. “Not all the time, but he does seem to like it every now then.” Genji chuckles. “It’s strange music if you ask me, I don’t really understand it. You can talk to him if you don’t want to have music playing, he seems to be relaxed about it.” He throws an arm around the room. “I think he’d even be open to changing anything here if you wanted.”

Hinamori nods slowly. He didn’t sound like he was strict or wanted things a certain way without argument. Even when she talked with him for the first time, she got that sense about him. Even so, perhaps this was going to be harder than she thought. She prefers quiet while working, but it seems the new captain liked background noise – or music, in his case.

“I’ll talk with him when he’s done with his meeting.” She conjures up what she hopes is a convincing smile. “In the meantime, we should get to your updates and notes.”

They sit at her desk and Genji shows her everything he wrote at the lieutenants meetings he attended, the updates from the districts they oversaw in the Rukongai and the regions in the World of the Living under their protection, and the finances and admin of the division.

At some point, Hinamori’s mind, and eventually her gaze drift to the bookcases. Aizen never kept many things in the office, but he did have three things on the shelf the vinyls currently occupy: a small stack of the latest books he was planning to read, a digital clock from the Twelfth Division, and a vase, identical to the one she has. The latter had been a gift from her back in the early days of being appointed a lieutenant. She’d had some girlish hope that he’d put on his desk, just as she was going to do with hers. She pushed down and denied her disappointment when she saw him put it on the shelf instead. After that, he only ever looked at it when she was putting new flowers in it.

Who had removed his things? When had they removed them? Were they in storage? Thrown away? Broken to pieces or burned to ashes?

Maybe serving under Aizen all these decade has given her enough practice on how to bury things that would harm her gilded image of him, or maybe she was sick and a tired of receiving pity when she was emotional. Regardless, when she focuses back on Genji, she doesn’t know how she manages to keep the smile in place when the familiar ache in her chest flares to life and the backs of her eyes burn with the threat of tears, but she does.

______________________________

After Genji had left to oversee flash-step training, Hinamori decides to wait for Shinj in the courtyard outside the office. It’s one of the smaller courtyards on their premises, meant for division members to come and rest for a little while amongst the trees and flowers, or for them to wait in before they’re called into the office.

Hinamori comes down the steps and slows to a stop on the path that winds through most of the garden. She can’t quite put her finger on what had changed at first. The shrubs are just as she remembered, rounded and trimmed, as are the momiji, one taller than the other and casting shade over a corner of the veranda that surrounded the courtyard. The patches of suzuran that are scattered on either side of the path sway to and fro in the spring breeze. The other flowers do too, and that’s when it hits her.

There had only been small lines of them dotted along one side of the path, but the ayame is gone.

Footsteps stop her train of thought, and she looks up in time to see Shinji walking around the corner on the second-floor balcony of the smaller barracks. He was studying something she couldn’t see, and he wore something white - perhaps the 'tie' Genji mentioned - around his neck.

Taking a breath to settle herself, she waves at him and forces out, “Captain!”

Shinji raises his head and tucks whatever he holds into his sleeve. “Hey!" he shouts with a wave. "Stay there.”

He gives the balcony railing a look that Hinamori knows all too well, but then steps away and heads to the stairs in the corridor between the two barracks. It doesn’t surprise her that Shinji is someone who would contemplate whether he should take the long way down or just jump over the railing and get to the ground floor quicker. She’d seen Renji, Hisagi, and many others have the same expression, and many of them jumped if there wasn’t a captain or lieutenant around to catch them.

She keeps to the unspoken rule: unless it’s an emergency, while in combat, or it’s wartime, all Shinigami must refrain from jumping from balconies, on to or from rooftops, and from the walls that surrounded the Seireitei when the gates were brought down. It didn’t mean she hadn’t done it herself though – a small memory of her rushing to meeting, jumping from balcony to balcony, just to make it a few minutes early. The fact such a rule had been created and is quietly enforced was a little funny to her now that she thought about it.

“What’re you smiling about?”

Hinamori blinks at the approaching captain, not realising he’d already made it down. “Nothing, Captain.”

Shinji steps down into the garden and crosses over to her. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was chatting with the new captains. How did it go with Isawa? He bring you up to date with everything?”

He doesn’t stop, instead going past her and up the steps. Was she to follow him? “Yes, I think I’, across everything ,” she says, taking a few tentative steps after him.

“Good.” He stops on the veranda and turns to her, causing her to stop in her tracks. “Anything you want to go over right now or can it wait until later?”

Hinamori cocks her head to one side. “Was there something else you needed to do?”

“Nah, just wondering if you wanted to talk about it after lunch.”

He’s quite causal, she realises, not just in how he speaks but his approach to work too. He's not strict, but he doesn't seem to have a structured approach either. She tries to breathe out the unease that jitters through her. How can she make this work? “Not everything, but…could we go over the finances and concerning district reports after a short break?”

He nods. “Yeah, they’re good places to start.” She thinks he's about to turn back into the office, but instead he looks out into the courtyard. Something she can’t name passes through his eyes, and after a beat he sits on the veranda’s edge. “Must admit, it’s different from how I remember. Used to be a lot less plants and those trees were a lot shorter. It’s not bad though.”

She too turns back to the garden. “When I started, there were a few plants, like the suzuran. Over time we just kept adding more plants.” Then before she can stop herself. “There used to be ayame too.”

She heard the melancholy in her own voice, and she knows Shinji did too when he turns to her with a frown. “Yeah? What happened to them?”

She shrugs stiffly. “I’m not sure. I think someone dug them up because… they were Captain Aizen’s favourite.”

She expects a silence to hang over the garden, and for her and Shinji to quietly contemplate, but the captain sniffs as his frown deepens. “That bastard had a favourite flower?”

Hinamori whips around, her mouth agape, but Shinji isn’t facing her to see it.

“If that even was his favourite,” he continues with a snort. “Thought he’d go for something more regal or something with a double meaning, knowing the way he worked.” He finally sees her reaction and chuckles nervously. “Hey, what’s with the look?”

“I-I, uh…” How is able to talk about him like that? Without an ounce of sorrow or anger. He’s nonchalant, calm, even able to insult him without an ounce of misery or vitriol. She turns away from him and sits on the steps. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

The awkward silence she’d expected before now passes between them. Was he able to speak about Aizen like this because it’d been over a hundred years ago? He had time to think about it, to let it pass. But then she remembers what she was told about the battle, about how the captain almost lost one of his friends – Hiyori, she remembers - to Aizen. Although Hiyori is still alive, she wouldn’t blame him for holding some anger towards Aizen, but the way he spoke just now, it's as if he feels only slightly annoyed.

She tries to look at the captain, but struggles to even lift her gaze from the ground. She can’t just keep sitting here like this, she needs to go over those updates with him and to make this new partnership work. How can she make the latter work though? It feels like they’re from different worlds.

“Hey, listen, if you’re not a fan of the office the way it is, we can discuss it, you know?”

Hinamori’s eyes widen. “Huh?”

“Isawa came to me before. He left training for a bit and told me you were shocked when you saw it.” Shinji sighs. “Look, I probably shouldn’t have just changed it all on you like that before you came back. I got carried away with it. It’s your workspace too, so you obviously get a say in how it should be.”

“It’s not that,” she's too quick to answer. She sighs through her nose. “More than that, I was just surprised. I thought everything would be the same as before.” She looks out into the gardens. “That was a silly of me. Time passed while I was in Fourth Division, but I think it’s only hitting me now just how much. Besides, it’s…It’s your desk. Why would I have say over where it goes?”

Shinji shrugs. “Maybe you have a point, it’s the captain’s desk. I arranged it that way because it’s what I’m used to, back when I was doing my first stint at this job.” He grins. “Maybe I could use a change too, you know? Like I said, you’re working in there too, so if you wanted your desk where mine is or somewhere else, do it. We’ll arrange it whatever way works.”

Why is he going out of his way to be accommodating? Is he always this relaxed? Did he pity her?

No, he doesn’t. From the moment she met him, he never pitied her. Somehow, he believes in her.

He didn’t choose one of his friends from the World of the Living to be his lieutenant or one of the other seated officer in Fifth Division; after just one conversation, he wanted her to come back as his lieutenant.

It’s then a few memories surface, of times when Aizen gave her choices, more smaller ones with no consequence to the division. It was while recovering she thought back on such memories, on how he presented her with choices. He always had a way with words:

“What do you think we should plant, Hinamori-kun?”

“Oh, um…maybe umanoahigata? I’ve seen them in the Junrinan forests and they’re a really sweet. They’d look nice next to the suzuran”

“Ah, I think I know which flower you’re talking about. They are beautiful…I was thinking ayame would be a good choice too. Correct me if I’m wrong, but they can convey ‘good tidings’ and ‘loyalty’, can they not? I think it’s something we’d want for the division, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. If that’s the case, then…let’s plant those!”

No, she realises, Shinji isn’t going out of his way at all.

She swallows against the tightness in her throat and manages a tepid smile. “I don’t mind the layout of the office, really. I-I must admit, I like to work in silence, but…The music you listen to, what’s it like?”

The captain grins widely and stands. “Come on, I’ll show ya!”

_______________________________

Her new haircut caught Shinji off guard at first. They’d only known each other for nearly two weeks now, but he was used to seeing her with her hair in a ponytail and resting on her shoulder.

His surprise must have shown because Hinamori had brought a hand up tentatively touches the ends of her much shorter hair, explaining, “My hair was getting too long, and I thought it would be a nice change to have something shorter.”

He couldn’t help himself; he’d turned his head up and to the side and flicked his hair. “Did I provide you with some inspiration?” he’d teased.

She gave a nervous laugh and dismissed his question. He could see the indignation that wanted to bubble up from her, but she kept it in. She’s polite and someone who doesn’t want to offend others. However, he got the feeling she wasn’t always like this, that she had a more expressive side to her. He’d already seen some of it, if her reaction to him asking if Aizen really had a favourite flower was any indication.

His only concern was whether this politeness was something she’d always had or was something Aizen fostered in her. He shakes his head, leaving that train of thought for later.

Now they walk from the mess hall to the main office. It’d become a small routine for them. He’s a late riser, always waking up after hitting the snooze button several times. It meant he had to rush breakfast – if he even remembered to have it in the first place - and then saunter his way down to the mess hall, where Hinamori – an early riser he understood very quickly – would eat with their subordinates. He’d stroll in, usually when she was done, and then they’d head to the office.

“So today I’m thinking we could do a bit of cleaning,” he says when he slides the office door open. “Think we need a bit more space and not as much old stuff.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

He gestures to the bookcases. “I’m thinking we don’t need records dating back to a hundred years ago. I thought stuff from forty years ago onwards should suffice. Besides, most things have basically been the same for the last hundred years.”

“Oh.”

“What? Surprised that I actually read through these?” he teases with a grin. “They’re dry as wallpaper but a captain’s gotta get up to date with everything.”

Hinamori shakes her head vigorously. “No, that’s not it.” She lightly steps into the room, as if afraid she will make the floorboard creak. “What exactly are you referring to when you say ‘most things’?”

He walks around his desk to the tomes. “Standard lower rank orientation and schedules, procedures for dealing with Hollows attacks in the different districts, rotations for seated officers patrolling the districts and World of the Living, basically everything. Must admit, I didn’t read every volume, but that’s only because it was all pretty standard and the same for several decades.” He scoffs. “Hardly surprising it’s barely changed through, Seireitei is always slow to change things…unless Twelfth Division comes up with some new gizmo that gets the higher ups all huffed up, or someone really crosses Central Forty-Six. Every division has the same protocols with some variation or flair of their own, right? Well, except for Fourth and Twelfth…maybe Eleventh, if those guys even know what the word ‘protocol’ means.”

“Is there something wrong with what’s been set in place?”

The question practically burst out of her, as if she’d been struggling to keep it in as he spoke. He can’t tell if she’s nervous about either him critiquing something she came up with or if he wants to dramatically change something that’s set in place.

He takes out a tome, one dated from twenty years ago and opens it, skimming through. “I ain’t saying there is or that we need to upend everything. What you did wasn’t bad. In fact, it’s been effective, especially when it comes to subordinates’ morale and our relations with Souls in the Rukongai.” He stops when a heading catches his eye. “However, sometimes things need a bit of shake up. You strike me as someone who’s a stickler for the rules and the established, but doing the same thing for a while can become stale, yeah?”

He turns to her, watches as a frown catches in her brow and she considers his words. She hooks her hair on the left side of her face behind her ear. “I agree change is needed, but only when something is not being as effective as it used to be.” She goes over to him. “You’ll see we’ve made smaller changes along the way, particularly in the rotations of officers on duty and how barracks duties are designated. Captain Aizen thought…”

Not for the first time, Shinji has to resist the urge to apologise to her - for not seeing through Aizen and stopping him when he could, for using Sakanade on her at the battle, and for being partly responsible for how the division is now. Her eyes and shoulders are downcast, and the tone of her voice when she says his name and former title, with melancholy and a longing for what was, it reminds him of why he hates that bastard as much as he does. He shirks the emotions to deal with later.

“Yeah, I did notice, and those were good changes too.” He lays the tome on his desk and points to a section. “Like I said, I’m not looking to undo your good work or change everything. A change in certain protocols and routines is something subordinates expect when a new captain takes charge. While I was a seated officer, I went through two different captains. They each changed things up when they started, and then when I became captain for the first time, I changed things too. Now granted, you’ve only worked for the same captain this whole time, so not much was gonna change and it shows in the records.

"Then there was your concerns from the other day about reorientating yourself and realising time had passed while you were recovering. I can understand being apprehensive to change what you’ve known for that long of a time.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Aizen having more or less the same routines in place the whole time he was captain was somehow part of his plan too. It made everyone comfortable, make them think nothing needed to be changed and that Aizen knew best. He’d done well in picking Hinamori as lieutenant; she’d work hard to maintain things as he wanted and keep the harmony in the division.

Hinamori looks down at the tome. “I think I understand.”

Shinji waits as different emotions war across her face: uncertainty, longing, regret, acceptance. She keeps her head bowed as she speaks. “When Captain Shiiba went missing and Hitsu – I mean, Captain Hitsugaya was appointed, Rangiku-san told me about changes that were going to be made in their division. It was based on things they both saw needed to be changed, things that Captain Shiiba didn’t see or didn’t work on changing at the time. They were small things mostly, tweaks I guess you could say. There were a few big changes though too, like the conversion of a courtyard into a training ground.”

She looks at him, and he’s almost taken aback by the determination set in her eyes. “We’re not the same division we used to be, and you think we need to show this through changing things in certain areas. If that’s the case and you’re not looking to rewrite every protocol and I can have a say in it, then…I agree. We can’t do it all at once though, it might not sit well with the others.”

He’d only known for less than two weeks, had met her when she was at her most vulnerable, and she’d only been back at the job for just over a week. He doesn’t know where this sense of pride in her comes from, but he allows it make him grin. “You got it. Glad we’re on the same page.” Then, half-jokingly. “And what’d take me for? I wasn’t going to make all the changes at once, of course. With the way things are, it’d be a bad move.”

Her knowing gaze tells him the way their subordinates regard and treat him hasn’t escaped her either. Like this morning when they were on their way to the office, he didn’t miss the way others greet them, some smiling and bowing as they pass by, other only focusing on Hinamori and barely casting their eyes to meet his.

Trust is always the hardest part, especially after what Aizen did. He knows the distrust doesn’t come from a fear of betrayal or deceit, but from suddenly showing up again, the rumors that had spread about his Hollow powers, and the cynicism of some who think things can’t go back to how they were.

“So, I’m thinking big speeches and good sentiments can only get me so far. I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way and do a bit of showing off. It’ll be the same with Captain Otoribashi. You reckon you could write up a training proposal to Third Division?”

It takes a moment, but it dawns on Hinamori what he means. “Yes, I can do that.”

_______________________________

Hinamori knows people have different ways of expressing themselves. The first to come to mind are Rangiku with her scarf and necklace, then Renji with the bandanas and goggles. She did it herself, with the new clip keeping the hair off the left side of her face.

However, when it comes to her captain’s new fringe, she can’t tell.

Had he tried to cut it himself and failed? Had he gone to the barber and suddenly moved, resulting in the scissors chopping off his hair at an awkward angle? If that were the case, she can understand why he wouldn't want to correct it; one side was so short cutting the rest to match that length would make his hair look even stranger.

Hinamori leaves the office and heads over to Fifth Division’s main entrance, where Shinji is waiting for her. Just like before, she tries not to stare at his hair - what if it had been an accident? She knows she wouldn’t want everyone staring at her. “I have the proposal, sir.”

Shinji nods and brushes his forehead, his asymmetrical fringe slowly falling over hand. “It’s starting to get hot out here. Let’s head over.”

Hinamori almost lets her mouth fall open as the realisation hits her. It’s been three weeks since they first started working together, she knows his sense of style can be eccentric, but this haircut was by choice…

What she can’t tell if he wants her to comment on it or tease her because he knows she thinks it was an accident. Instead, she spins on her heel and starts to walk away. “Yes, let’s go!”

She says nothing, and Shinji continues to grin all the way to Third Division.

________________________________

Shinji doesn’t let go of Genji until he’s sitting on the ground. “It really does a whammy on you, huh?”

“You did warn me,” the third seat chuckles. “I think it went well though.”

Judging from the stunned looks of some of the subordinates from the Third and Fifth Divisions, he’d have to agree. He’d used the majority of Sakanade’s abilities on Genji, but he’d also used his zanpakuto on everyone to invert his words – that one really made all their eyes widen and he couldn’t help but grin in response. However, the officers he knew from his first stint as captain must have seen it coming, because most of them laughed when it happened.

Several look at Sakanade, still in released state, half in wonder and the other in confusion. Above all though, some look him in the eye for the first time. As usual, when one shows their ability, it’s like baring a part of themselves for all to see, and from there trust starts to develop.

“Look after our third seat,” he calls out to Hinamori, who he knows without looking is already rushing to them. Then, to Genji, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.”

Shinji straightens as Hinamori kneels at Genji’s side. She offers him a smile, but there’s a nervous edge to it.

Without having to watch him use Sakanade’s shikai on Genji, she already knows what it’s like to be under his zanapukto’s influence. She knows that attack wasn’t meant for her, but even so, he can understand her unease; it's still too fresh in her mind.

He walks back to the training square, where he’s joined by Rose. “You ready?” he asks, voice only loud enough him to hear.

The fellow captain smiles as he unsheathes his zanpakuto. “I’ll try to not correct your fringe.”

Shinji smirks. “It’s called having style, idiot.”

Rose turns to the Third and Fifth’s subordinates, raises Kinshara, and begins explaining his zanpakuto’s abilities. Shinji backs away a few steps and puts Sakanade into the sealed state.

Eyeing the onlookers, he wonders how many of them want to see their Hollow abilities. He knows if he were them he’d be curious, suspicious even. So long as desperate times didn't called for desperate measures, they’d never see them. One of the conditions for he, Rose, and Kensei to all get reappointed was they could never, under any circumstances, use their Hollow abilities. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, considering all they had to do to harness and control those abilities, but he understands.

When Rose turns to him, Shinji raises his zanpakuto. As discussed, they engage in a fight, swords clashing or dodging each other. Now the officers will know how the other fights in combat, from their footwork to the weight they put behind attacks. They’ll see their weaknesses and strengths, what they avoid and what they take head on.

After a few minutes of sparring, Rose calls out Kinshara’s release command, and the zanpakuto transforms into the golden whip. Shinji almost snorts when Rose pauses to allow the onlookers to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at his zanpakuto’s shikai. He gives Shinji a knowing smile.

Show off. Though he likely thought the same when Shinji showed off Sakanade’s released state before using his powers.

Shinji uses this as a chance to flash step to the edge of the training square. Done with everyone admiring his zanpakuto, Rose whips Kinshara towards Shinji, who dodges the attack with ease. Rose speaks while attacking Shinji, explaining the extension capability of his zanpakuto and then, without warning, the whip wraps around Sakanade and is forced out of Shinji’s hands with a forceful tug.

Shinji allows a few seconds to pass after his sword clattered on the ground before going to his zanpakuto and unwrapping the whip from the blade, internally apologising when he senses the seething coming from Sakanade. Rose turns his attention to the log set up in the middle of the training square.

Knowing what is coming next, Shinji flash-steps back to Hinamori and Genji on the sidelines. Rose demonstrates Kinshara Sokyoku Dai Juichiban - Izayoi Bara, obliterating the log and sending a shockwave through the area. The nearby trees bend  slightly and their leaves rustle or break off, and the onlookers all make a commotion as their sleeves and hair is forced back.

In the wake of the dying shockwave, the upturned dirt, and the lack of a demonstration log, claps and cheers erupted from everyone.

Rose nods to Shinji, who nods back. It worked.

_________________________

Rain pelts over the Fifth Division, thrumming on the rooftop and windows. Hinamori takes cover under the awning of the veranda as she walks speedily to the training halls. The humid air reminds her that spring is well and truly coming to an end. Some things had changed in a month and a half, but there were still things that needed to be done.

Such as the documents tucked under her arm, which Shinji needs sign off on. That had been one of several new things she had noticed about her captain's work ethic in the past month: he hated paperwork. He was slow to complete it, reluctant to get to work on it, and when he could, he’d do it at the last minute. She huffs, speeding up her walk even more.

Once at the training hall, she looks in to see her captain and a large group of their subordinates gathered around a blackboard. Shinji points to the diagram - which she had drawn up earlier this morning - explaining how they were going to patrol a section of the forty-third west district. Hinamori forgets her exasperation after a few of the officers nod to what their captain says.

Ever since he demonstrated his abilities, things had been slowly changing on the trust front. There was still a ways to go, but at least subordinates who previously didn’t even look their captain in the eye now greeted him on his way to the office or when he ate with them in the mess hall.

That was another thing she noticed about her new captain while working with him: he made an effort to engage with everyone. In one of the several times she had to go looking for him for seemingly skipping on his duties, she found him putting out laundry with some of the officers, talking with them and finding out about their lives. It got to a point where they were joking about and laughing. He gave the impression he always had time for them, that he wanted them to know who he was, with a roughened honesty that she was starting to find refreshing.

Even now, when one of the officers, seventeenth seat Tomoko Suzuki, speaks up and ask why they aren’t patrolling another area nearby in case Hollows attack there, she can see he’s listening.

“Suppose it’s a fair point,” Shinji replies to Suzuki. “Hollows could decide to try out the surrounding area once they get bored here or realize Shinigami are there.” He gestures back to the board. “However, why do you think they’re attacking this area rather than the others?”

Suzuki thinks for a moment before she answers. “There’s less infrastructure compared to surrounding areas, and maybe because of the concentration of Souls in the area? It’s the most densely populated part of that district.”

He grins. “It’s what I’m thinking too.”

“So, you think the higher concentration is distracting them from other areas? And that even with us there, they would continue to lurk there?”

“Mostly, but also…”He taps a finger on where Hinamori had drawn the forest that surrounded half of the area. “I think they’re using this to conceal themselves. It’s a classic Hollow tactic, especially for Hollows who don’t have much power or who hunt in groups.”

Suzuki nods, and Hinamori sees something shift in her subordinate. Her shoulders lower a few centimeters, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile. It’s something she’d seen most of the officer do at some point or another while speaking with their new captain. Others she could see the corners of their eyes loosen, the posture get straighter, and their voice became stronger when speaking to him.

An unseated officer, Kobe Abiko, raises his hand. “Sir?”

Shinji’s response is half a tease and half an order. “Geez, what’ve I told you? No need to raise your hand, just speak up. I’m not the formal type.”

“Uh, right, apologises, Captain!”

“No need to. What’d want to say?”

“Just, um… when will this new deployment take place?”

“Well, I was thinking tonight.” Shinji looks to Suzuki. “Reckon you can manage that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

They go on to discuss another topic related to the case of the Hollow activity in the area, but Hinamori finds herself stuck on Abiko. He’d had always been a nervous officer, ever since he came to the division almost a year ago. She suspects his nerves stemmed from a lack of confidence, and compared to the peers he’d come to the Fifth Division with, he was among the youngest of the then-new recruits. He reminded Hinamori of herself when she first started, particularly with how she acted around Aizen. All the nervous energy she had pent up while speaking to him, and wondering how, with all her fumbling and stumbling, she managed to make him smile.

It’d been an act, all of it.

The only one who felt anything in those encounters was herself, and she’d worked hard to become the lieutenant to a façade. He felt nothing towards her rise in the ranks. There was only ever that smile, almost always present on his face, and she’d thought she had provoked it out of him. It was a prepared response, one to make her feel one way or another about whatever they spoke about. At least for Abiko she can see his nerves were from a lack of confidence, but herself, it was because of something that never existed. She was still getting to know her new captain, but she already knew Abiko would not go through what she did, not with an honest captain like Shinji.

“All right. Suzuki, stay behind for a moment. Rest of you, I suggest you all get ready. You’ll meet Suzuki at the main gates at five this evening.” Shinji jerks his chin towards the exit without looking away from the group. “You’re free to go.”

All the officers stand and bow before turning the exit. Hinamori throws back the darker thoughts threatening to cloud her mind and smiles at her officers, who greet her as they pass by. “Good luck tonight,” she says to them in response. “I know you’ll do well.”

By the time she comes over, Shinji hands Suzuki a document. “Here’s my suggestions for who does which patrol rotations, but feel free to alter them how you like. You know your team better than I do.”

Suzuki raises a brow. However, after reading the first few lines of the document, she nods with a determined frown. “Thank you, Captain.”

Shinji looks to Hinamori, acting as if she had been there the whole time. “It was Hinamori’s idea in the first place.”

Suzuki blinks at Hinamori, who is just as surprised. “Oh, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori comes to stand next to Shinji. “Good luck with the patrol tonight, Suzuki-san. I know you’ll do well.”

She bows to both of them. “Thank you both. I’ll report back tomorrow morning.”

Shinji doesn’t speak until their seventeenth seat has left the hall. “Sensed your reiatsu all the way from the main entrance, you need to work on concealing if you wanna surprise me.”

Hinamori ignores the comment, instead saying, “Letting Suzuki-san decide was mainly your idea, sir.”

He smiles. “You’re the one who said ‘Suzuki-san knows her team, she can arrange them however she sees fit.’ So, it was basically your idea. All I did was change the routes, which’ll hopefully either get those Hollows to come out because they’re feeling daring or for our officers to find them.” He turns to the board. “It’s shame I gotta get rid of this. Don’t usually care about art or drawing, but this is good.”

She waves her hand, dismissive. “It’s just a diagram.” She shuffles the papers to hold in both arms, hoping he will notice. “It sounds like that went well.”

“I thought so too.” He takes the eraser and starts wiping away the chalk. “Next order of business though, we gotta talk about the training scheduled for next week.”

Hinamori blinks. She presses her lips together and has to force herself to not thrust the papers at him. “You mean the kido training?”

“Yeah. How do you wanna run it?”

“I…What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you in action yet, but I know you’re good at kido, and I need a refresher. I figured I ain’t in a position to organise training I don’t have a good skillset in. So, if you’re up for it, do want to organise what should be taught? Or do you have any suggestions?” Diagram now gone, he twists to her. “Only if you want to, though. I’m not gonna pressure you.”

She’s never been given the lead for a training schedule, or at least, not to the degree he is suggesting. Aizen would say she can schedule it, but he always had to be over her shoulder to change certain things, and by the end only a few of her suggestions made it to the final draft.

“I’d have to think about it,” she says demurely. “But if I had to make a suggestion…I think the officers need to be taught about binding kido.”

He raises a brow. “Why’s that? Academy usually covers that pretty well.”

“Yes, but there’s more to learn.” An old frustration builds up in her, one she hadn’t felt for many decades. If she could, she’d show just exactly why more needed to be taught about binding spells by casting a few right here and now. Instead, she takes up a piece of chalk and write the names of a few kido: Bakudo 4: Hainawa, Bakudo 9: Horin, and Hado 11: Tsuzuri Raiden. Then, as she speaks, she write her keys points under each spell name.

“In the Academy, we’re taught to use binding kido as a way of detaining an opponent or stopping them from attacking. There’s more to it though. Hainawa is used opponents that are strong or have multiple limbs, but because it’s one of the first recruits learn, they often use it at the cost of their energy. It also has a slight weakness, in that most Shinigami require both hands to activate it, leaving them defenseless while casting it.

“Horin can be a good substitute depending on how good a Shinigami is at kido. It’s better for opponents who are far away, but also who aren’t too heavy so they can be pull towards you if need be. However, that can be dangerous, especially for unseated officers. Horin can be more effective when combining it with certain spells.” She draws a line from Horin to Tsuzuri Raiden. “I’ve been working on it for a while now, but I found a way to combine these two. While using one hand for Horin, and with Tobiume in my other hand, I can use my zanpakuto as a conductor while casting Tsuzuri Raiden. When you strike Horin while using Tsuzuri Raiden on the zanpakuto, it can electrocute the opponent, thus hopefully weakening them enough to neutralise them.

“I wished I’d know about this as an unseated officer when I first joined. It took me years to figure out how to properly use binding spells on opponents effectively, and also to discover it’s other uses. If I can impart some knowledge about kido to new recruits and all of the officers, this would be a part of it.”

It’s not until she stops that she takes in her captain’s surprised expression, or the thumping of her heart. The eagerness drains from her; she’d let her emotions get the better of her. How could she have been so rude? Embarrassment flushes through her, and she almost apologises, but stops at her captain’s grin and then his chuckle.

“Look at you lecturing me and writing on the board. You should’ve been an instructor at the Academy!”

Her cheeks flush when she glances over at her writing. “I-I meant no -”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about! Sounds like this has been a point of contention for you for a while.” He gives a firm nod to the board. “All right, done. We’ll set the lesson to be on binding kido.” His grin widens. “Heck, why don’t you lead it? You sound like you’ve got a lot to teach. I’ll even join in at the back!”

Hinamori is caught between gaping and laughing, and in the end, she makes a strange sound that’s like a strangled laugh. “What?”

“You’ve taught training lessons before, right?”

“Yes, of course, I’ve taught several. It’s just…you’d join in?”

There’s a small ‘crack’ when he rolls his wrists for emphasis. “Like I said, I’m rusty. I need a refresher. Although, I suspect not many will be able to get the Horin combined with Tsuzuri Raiden on their first try. Might take them a few times, but everything else should be accessible for them.” Then, teasingly. “How lucky am I to have a lieutenant who’s one of the best at kido to teach me? It’s only time you get to order me around, it’ll be a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

She laughs, out of confusion and mirth. He didn’t think it rude of her to assert how she thought the lesson should be ran? No, he’d asked for her opinion, and now to lead the training. She hadn't been rude, she realises.

Now she notices something else about her new captain: she didn’t hold back with him. It was as if she were with Renji or Kira, both of whom she rarely hid her annoyance or exasperation from when they brought it up in her. His lacking punctuality is a slight annoyance, and his honesty is still taking some getting used to, but he never expected her to be anyone she wasn’t. He allows her to express herself freely, perhaps with some argument, but never for the way she felt or thought.

And it’s not just her. Perhaps it’s his casual demeanour or his relaxed work ethic, but their subordinates were friendly with him in a way that they weren’t with Aizen. Like her, the they held their previous captain as something above reproach, as something to aspire to. With Shinji, they’re more relaxed. She recalls the jokes he made and how he deliberately hung the washing in an obscure manner, with most of them unsure if they were allowed until he encouraged them to. And just now, he didn’t already have a prepared answer or will immediately dismiss their subordinates insight. None of them feel the need to be hesitant with something they’ve observed or think that whatever they have to say is childish or naïve. They’re encouraged to speak their mind, and any debate doesn’t get gently swept away with carefully laden words.

Using the burst of confidence in her, Hinamori raises her chin slightly. “All right, I will lead the lesson.” But before Shinji can say anything, she holds up the papers with a smile. “But speaking of pressing matters. Sir, if you would approve these, please.”

_________________________________

Continues in part 2

[dicaculus]

Title: A Pile of Hot Metal and Dirty Dishes

Artist: Crankyfossil

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood

Wordcount:42,462

Summary: Magnus Bane is the Head Chef at Encanto and doing just fine. Or that’s what he tells Simon the therapist, his boss Raphael, orders him to go to. Magnus is a genius in the kitchen, his food is art, but if he starts a fight with one more disrespectful customer, he’s gone. Simon is useless though, going on about Magnus using work as a means to distance himself from meaningful relationships, and emotional walls that could rival a fortress. What does he know? Magnus is fine. Then everything goes wrong. His best friend, Catarina and her daughter get into an accident. His eight-year-old niece, Madzie, is the only survivor and Magnus finds himself going from cool uncle Magnus to the only parent Madzie has left. To make matters worse, Raphael has replaced him while he’s on leave. Alexander Lightwood is a menace. He’s careless, breezy, and annoyingly good at everything he does. Magnus can’t stand him, but with Madzie refusing to eat his cooking and his hands full, Magnus needs all the help he can get. Along the way, Magnus begins to realize there’s more to life than seared cod and lemon dressing, and maybe, just maybe, it’s a life that he wants Alexander Lightwood in.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2023.

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning Magnus isn’t woken up by the blinding morning sun shining into his eyes, the beeping of his alarm clock or even Madzie making noise despite her attempts at being quiet. Instead, it’s gentle kisses from behind Magnus’s right ear, down his neck and to his shoulder that wake him. 

“Morning chef,” Alec says into Magnus’ neck, his voice still husky from sleep. He presses himself against Magnus’s back and wraps his arm around Magnus’s waist, making gentle patterns on his stomach with his fingertips that make Magnus shiver into the man’s touch.

“Don’t call me chef when we’re naked” Magnus groans with his face still pressed into his pillows, then he lifts his head looking over his shoulder at Alec “Or with your hand so close to my dick,”

Magnus watches that familiar smirk come over Alec’s face, then before he knows it he’s laying on his back and Alec is on top of him straddling his hips, “Why?” He asks before leaning down to kiss Magnus. “Does it make you hot when I call you chef?” Alec whispers against Magnus’s lips.

Refusing to give Alec the satisfaction of knowing that calling him chef just might do it for him, Magnus pulls Alec back pressing their lips together once again, gently tugging on Alec’s hair like the night before pulling the same gasps from him and quiet moans from him. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Alec pants pulling away from Magnus

“I never start things I don’t intend to finish Alexander” 

Alec presses Magnus into the mattress again, the kisses slowly becoming less and less gentle when the moment is broken by the slamming of a door and a cat’s cries for food, almost like someone had never fed them before. 

Alec pulls away with a groan. “Raincheck?”

Magnus nods, “I should probably make Madzie some breakfast”

“Why don’t I make breakfast?” Alec offers, “You can rest a little more and I’ll get you when it’s ready?”

Magnus’s heart skips a beat at the kind offer, while Magnus was an incredible chef and had a large repertoire of recipes. Breakfast was never his thing. For Magnus, breakfast was a bitter cup of black coffee, maybe an apple if he was feeling hungry that morning. 

“You cook breakfast?”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I worked at a luxury hotel that served brunch every day. I could probably make eggs benedict with my eyes closed at this point.”

Magnus hums, “I look forward to my eggs benedict then”

Alec groans, regretting giving Magnus that information. But he kisses Magnus quickly one more time before getting dressed, winking at Magnus when he notices the other man watching him dress shamelessly and leaving the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind himself. Hearing footsteps chairman come speeding around the corner meowing at a volume Alec didn’t know was possible while weaving between his long legs, making him trip. Not wanting to step on the large cat, he picks up the feline holding him to his chest, scratching behind his ears. Once in Magnus’s large kitchen, he opens a couple of cupboards; he finds dishes, mugs, the snack cupboard, but not cat food.

“If I were tins of cat food, where would I be?” Alec mumbles to himself, then looks down at chairman who stares at Alec purring with blown pupils “Where’s your food kitty, help me out here,”

“The cupboards above the fridge” 

Alec spins around and smiles when he sees Madzie in her matching sunflower pajama set, dinosaur stuffy tucked under her arm.

“Magnus had to move his food because he learned how to open the cupboard and ate all his treats.”

Alec looks down at the cat in his arms, who he swears looks guilty. “Chairman, did you do that?” He gently taps the cat’s pink nose. “Naughty kitty eating your treats like that. I bet you gave yourself quite the stomachache.”

“He was sick on my bed,” Madzie says with a grimace, but it quickly disappears and replaced with her soft smile. “Could you get a tin of food for me, Alec, so Magnus doesn’t catch me standing on a chair again?”

Alec sniggers to himself. He can see the scene unfolding in his head as Magnus squawks at his niece for dangerously standing on a dining chair, much the same way he’d yelled at the chef, who put their knife in a sink full of soapy water. Alec easily reaches the cupboard above the fridge and hands Madzie a small tin, which claims to be chicken and lobster. Not wanting Madzie to feel like she’s being watched, Alec turns around and opens the fridge, grabbing the various ingredients he knows he’ll need for the eggs benedict. 

“Are you making breakfast?” Madzie asks from behind him.

“I am,” Alec confirms as he opens a container labelled, ‘Herbs Fresh’. He finds the basil giving a quick smell, checking its freshness. “You want to help me sous-chef?”

Madzie nods excitedly, a big smile appearing on her face. While Alec continues to rummage through the fridge, Madzie skip to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing the same apron they wore the night Alec came over to make pizza. Alec takes the apron handed to him, easily tying it himself, then he helps Madzie with her own.

“What are we making, chef?”

“Eggs benedict..minus the bacon, because there seems to be none.” He closes the fridge and turns to Madzie, who looks at him with wide, excited eyes. “But a good chef can adapt, so instead of a traditional eggs benedict we’ll do caprese eggs benedict with a basil hollandaise.”

He sets Madzie up to make the marinated tomatoes on a nearby counter while he puts a pot of water on to boil, then begins making the basil hollandaise. Most people, when they think of or learn to make hollandaise sauce they think of all the whisking you have to do and the hot melted butter you have to slowly add to create an emulsion. While working in hotels Alec learned an easier method of simply using a food processor and instead of multiple dishes a single saucepan to melt butter. Once the butter had melted and became foamy with food processor on, he drizzles the butter into the previously blended egg yolks and lemon juice until a creamy sauce forms. After the sauce forms, he adds a bunch of basil and blends again until it’s fully combined and is a beautiful light green colour. Alec generously seasons the sauce with salt and pepper, then takes two spoonfuls, handing one to Madzie to test.

“What do you think? More pepper?”

Madzie nods in agreement about the pepper. Alec sets the container of sauce on the counter then hands her the pepper, letting her season it to her taste while he gets to work on poaching the eggs.

“Madzie, would you toast the English muffins for me?”

“Yes chef!”

Magnus appears in the kitchen wearing a robe open enough at the top. Alec can see the dusting of hair on his chest and it takes everything in him to turn away and not stare at him. Madzie abandons toasting when Magnus enters the room to set the table, then with Magnus leaving Alec to finish breakfast up. He quickly melts a slice of fresh mozzarella under the broiler in the oven on each English muffin until it’s melted and bubbly. Once finished, he tops them with a spoonful of the marinated tomatoes, the poached egg, then he drizzles the basil hollandaise on top. 

“Eggs benedict as requested,” He announces, placing plates in front of Magnus and Madzie. “Coffee will only be a moment.”

“This doesn’t look like any eggs benedict I’ve ever had. Where’s the bacon?”

“You didn’t have any,” He says pouring two mugs off coffee then walking them over to the table and sitting down. “So I had to adapt”

“It’s what a great chef does,” Madzie says with a mouthful of food

Alec nods in agreement while Magnus shakes his head, suddenly regretting let the two spend time together.

When Magnus takes his first bite, Alec stares at him, his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for the verdict. Magnus takes is first bite, chewing thoughtfully for an only moment before a smile appears on his face as he chews.

“Alexander, this is incredible…”

Magnus is full of praise. He talks about the flavour of the hollandaise, the perfectly poached egg, the mozzarella of course, the marinated tomatoes which perfectly balance all the flavours, cutting the richness of the dish.

“I made the tomatoes Magnus,” Madzie pipes up, “I did it all by myself!”

“Did you? Well, they’re delicious sweet pea”

“Madzie is an incredible sous-chef, couldn’t have made breakfast without her,” Alec says, leaning over to squeeze the girl’s shoulder. “You could become a chef and start your own restaurant. Call it Madzie’s.”

Madzie shakes her head “No,” she says looking down at her plate and her voice suddenly small “I’d call it Catarina’s after my mom”

Magnus’s heart shatters in his chest at the mention of his friend. Some days it’s like she was still alive and Madzie was only visiting then he’d suddenly remember Catarina’s dead and it hits him all over again how much he misses her, how he wishes he’d visited more and told her he love her more. The table is silent and Magnus wishes he knew what to say in that moment, but his mind is blank and all he can do is clear his throat, feeling awkward. But then he sees Alec reach out and squeeze his niece’s hand in his large ones and give her a warm smile.

“That’s a beautiful idea Madzie, I think she’d love that”

Magnus’s heart unclenches when he sees the way she beams from Alec’s gentle praise and continues with her meal. Magnus mouths a ‘thank you’ to Alec and squeezes the other man’s knee, who smiles back at him with a nod. Much like the night he’d gotten her to eat spaghetti that night at the restaurant. After the small hiccup, the rest of the meal goes smoothly, filled with light chatter and giggles from Madzie, when the two men bicker.

“I hate your coffee machine, Magnus. It’s so complicated”

“Complicated? All you have to do is push the brew button. I’ve preset it, Alexander”

“Well, how am I supposed to know that when there’s a hundred buttons? Do you know how long it took me to find the on and brew button?

“Let me guess, your coffee maker only has an on switch?”

“Her name is Cora the coffeemaker, and she does a great job! I’ll have you know she also has a warm button. If you’re going to insult her, do it correctly.”

Eventually Alec looks up at the clock on the wall and with a sigh he knows he needs to get going. Staying the night with Magnus hadn’t been part of the plan. Hell, kissing Magnus hadn’t been part of his plan, but between the blindfold and the way Magnus had pursed his lips, waiting for another spoonful, Alec couldn’t resist. So he had to head home to shower, change, and prepare for another service without Magnus. Alec says his goodbyes, giving Madzie a tight squeeze and a gentle kiss on top of her head. When he reaches Magnus, he leans over, intending to give him a goodbye kiss, but he’s stopped with a gasp from Magnus and a finger pressed against his lips.

“Not in front of Madzie.”

Alec rolls his eyes with a playful sigh. He turns his so he can see Madzie, but otherwise doesn’t move away from Magnus. “Madzie, I’m now going to kiss your uncle.”

Madzie covers her eyes with a groan. “This is so embarrassing!”

Alec gets his goodbye kiss from Magnus. In fact, he gets a couple.   

“Why don’t I walk you out Alexander? Madzie, can you put the dishes in the dishwasher?” 

In typical Magnus fashion, he doesn’t wait for an answer, and leaves the table with a hand on the small of Alec’s back, leading him out of the apartment and down to where he knows Alec’s car is parked.

“How are we gonna work together now?” Magnus asks, “Will it be weird? Us..together and working together?”

Alec shrugs “We’ll do what we always did Magnus.You tell me what to do and I’ll go behind your back and do whatever I want.”

This time Magnus grabs lapels of Alec’s coat and pulls him in for another kiss before Alec heads out. For once, Magnus wasn’t scared about being absent from the restaurant. He’d proved himself many times over, and Magnus trusted him. For once, he was positive the kitchen would still be standing when he came back.

With Alec left in charge of his kitchen, Magnus tries to enjoy some time off. Normally he’d be on edge, and twitchy while worrying about every little thing that could go wrong and ruin not only his, but the restaurant’s reputation. But he trusted Alec, and he knew how to put out small fires, make all the dishes, except for the saffron sauce Magnuswas  known for, that recipe he kept to himself. More importantly, the staff loved him and wouldn’t walk all over him. 

So he spends the week waking up early not to go to the pier but to make breakfast for himself and Madzie, along with her school lunch. He gets her to school on time, even early, so she can see her friends and Magnus stays as long as he can, watching her play with a big smile on her face and giggling with other kids. Alec, of course, somehow knowing Magnus better than he knows himself, continues to keep Magnus in the loop regardless of his absence. He texts Magnus pictures of the menus for the week and even going as far as sending a video of himself as he slowly braises down the beef cheeks in a red wine sauce, making Magnus’s mouth drool. Monday is probably the hardest day for Magnus. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t pick Madzie until 3:30, and Magnus doesn’t see Simon until 2, which meant he had hours to himself. 

“I just don’t know what to do with myself,” Magnus explains to Simon in their session, “What am I supposed to do? I took time off for Madzie, but what am I supposed to do when she’s in school?” Magnus shakes his head, laying back on the couch. “I shouldn’t have taken this time off. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking of your niece, who has recently gone through one of the most traumatic things a child can experience.”

Magnus sighs, knowing the man is right, besides if anyone could understand what losing a parent young felt like, there was no one better than himself.

“Besides,” Simon continues, “I think this will be good for you, personal challenge, so to speak”

Magnus groans, “I hate being challenged”

Simon ignores him and scribbles on his notepad. “I want you to do things this week you used to enjoy, but haven’t had time to do with your schedule. Read, walk in the park, knitting, yoga, video games…whatever it is you enjoy. He closes his notepad and looks Magnus directly in the face. “Find joy this week, Magnus, and we’ll talk about it next week.”

“Find joy? What the hell does that even mean!?” Magnus exclaims to Alec when he shows up much later that night with a smile making his knees weak, a bottle of wine and container filled with a serving of the braised beef cheeks and sides from tonight. 

“He just wants you to do things that make you happy, Magnus. It’s not a trick question. Hobbies, projects you haven’t had time for anything that isn’t work related.”

Something not work related, right? He could do this.

Tuesday after sending Madzie off to school, Magnus stands with his hands on his hips in the middle of his living room. He approaches his bookshelf that covers an entire wall and browses the spines he realizes he hasn’t actually looked at in quite a while. When his fingertips come back dusty, he decides he better give the shelf and probably the book spines a dusting. So Magnus  lightly dusts the shelf with a cloth, lifting every book wiping the dust from every space. When he’s on the bottom shelf and pulls out a large book, a stack of papers comes out with it falling around the room. As he picks up the recipes, he realizes they’re recipes, but not just any recipes, recipes of his own that he created. Traditional Indonesian recipes, Indonesian food done in a more modern way, fusion recipes, all recipes for a restaurant he wanted to open, showcasing the Indonesian flavours he’d grown up with and loved and wanted to share with others. After he’s finished working for Ragnor Fell, the original plan had been for Magnus to open his own place but building leases were expensive as was his rent. So his dream restaurant was put on hold and he took a job in another kitchen. Eventually being Raphael asked him to be his head chef, which he accepted. Raphael’s restaurant was the new chic place in town and with it being so new came hard work, pushing Magnus’s restaurant further and further to the back of his mind until it was completely forgotten. Instead of putting the papers back on the shelf, he sets them on the coffee table and goes back to cleaning. But Simon would be proud of him. He’s found his project even though it may not be totally non work related.

So for the rest of his week off, other than taking and picking Madzie up from school, and helping her with her homework, Magnus studies. He goes through some of the many cookbooks he own including a few that were his mother’s, all written in her neat and familiar penmanship. He makes list after list of his favourite dishes from his childhood and typical American dishes he enjoys trying to figure out ways of fuzing the two together. He’d done it with the spring rolls, so why couldn’t there be an Indonesian taco? Magnus watches cooking shows, and browses through the many Asian markets the city provides, hoping to come up with some kind of inspiration.  

“I think this great Magnus,” Alec says with a smile as he reads the over the notes and recipes Magnus showed him when he shows up Saturday after service. “These dishes they sound incredible and they’re truly unique. I really see you in these recipes”

Magnus swallows, trying to hold back tears that suddenly come up. He’d always heard from chefs about how personal their food was to them and until now, Magnus didn’t really understand it. But these recipes, they were him on a piece of paper, eventually on a plate. His life, his upbringing, his experiences, and it made him feel incredibly vulnerable. 

Alec gently places the papers back on the table in a neat pile and leans over, kissing Magnus gently.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Magnus. You have to make the fried chicken for me one day, who knew so many countries enjoy their chicken fried!” Alec says referring to an ayam goreng recipe.

Alec stays over that night under the guise of going to the pier and markets to help prepare for the new menu in the coming week, despite Magnus having done it on his own multiple times. So early the next morning, hand in hand joined by Madzie, of course, who holds Alec’s other hand, they go to the pier. The only people there of morning are other restaurant owners. Magnus nods in greeting as he recognizes other chefs from nearby restaurants and waving at merchants who try to get Magnus’s attention, but he promises them he’ll be back. The first stop is at his favourite fish monger who greets him and Madzie and shakes Alec’s hand when he’s introduced.

“What’s fresh?”

“Caught the prawns this morning myself and the scallops are quite plumps” he says, gesturing to each thing.”

“Do you have any tuna?” Alec asks

Without a word, the man turns around and only a moment later; he comes slapping the fish down in front of the chefs. Alec leans over and gently runs a finger over the fish and inspects it before looking at Magnus with a shrug.

“What do you think? We could do a tuna tartare with chopped shallots, chives and avocado with micro greens, and some kind of spicy sauce .”

“Tuna tartare?”

Alec shrugs again. “Yeah, it’s been a while since you’ve had a tartare on the menu. I know normally it’s steak or lamb, but I thought we could try something different.”

Collaborating like this on the menu was already very different for them. Normally, Magnus preferred to do it on his own, not letting anyone near it until he was sure of the dishes. But Alec was right, as annoyed as it make Magnus different could be good sometimes and the tuna was beautiful. So Magnus agrees.

“Okay, but if people hate it, it’s your head”

The pair discuss more seafood dishes putting their final order in and the man promises to get it there on at eleven. After the fish it stops at various butchers ordering cuts of meat, ribeyes, filet mignon, racks of lamb, whole chickens, pork belly all for the week. Then it’s the produce vendors ordering the usual onions, garlic, potatoes, various greens and anything extra the two chefs think they’ll need. When Madzie complains about her stomach, they stop by a small cafe in the market that Magnus knows makes incredible food. It’s a small family run cafe, so small Magnus had walked past the place multiple times before he ever realized it was there. Whenever he popped in, he’d order croissants. They were always so buttery, flakey with perfect layers inside and delicious. Once Madzie is satisfied and they’ve wiped her face, removing the remnant of sticky maple syrup, the three spend the rest of the morning wondering from store to store in the market. 

“I wanna show you something.” Magnus says spotting an asian market across the street, “Quick! Let’s go.” He says pulling Alec and Madzie across the street.

Magnus walks up to the brick building, on the outside people shopping,picking food out from the displays. The three walk in the door when a man walks towards them with a name tag saying ‘owner’ asking if they need any help.

“Yes, do you sell kaffir lime leaves?

“Over there.” The store owner says in an accented English as he gestures in the general direction of produce. “You touch, you buy!”

“Of course, thank you”

“Kaffir limes leaves? What do you need those for?” Alec asks, letting Magnus pull him towards the produce.

“You’ll see!” Is all Magnus says. Once in the produce, Magnus quickly scans the displays until he stops pointing to a cardboard box amongst other green herbs. “Here they are.” He pulls two leaves from the box, handing the first one to Madzie, who immediately presses it against her nose to smell.

“Smells good.”

 “You like it, sweet pea?” Magnus takes the other leaf and hands it to Alec. “And one for you.”

Alec sniffs the leaf. Immediately, he squints his eyes and looks back to Magnus. “I know this smell. How do I know this smell?” He smells the leaf again, this time closing his eyes as he inhales then pauses for a moment to think before his eyes shoot back open. “Is this your saffron sauce?”

Magnus nods with a smile, “The secret ingredient”

Alec leans down and gently kisses Magnus. “Apparently, we have no secrets anymore.”

“Hey! You touch..”

 Magnus rolls his eyes and looks back at the man. “I know. I buy.”

The man points at Magnus,” Two dollars!”

Sunday turns into Monday too fast for Magnus’s liking. Alec stays for dinner and plays video games with Madzie filling the apartment with her high-pitched giggles, then reads her a bedtime story before they both tuck her into bed with her multiple plushies. Despite her pleas for Alec to stay and take her to school in the morning, Alec declines but promises he’ll see her this week and they’ll cook something delicious together. So Magnus goes to bed that night alone, tossing and turning missing the warmth of the other man’s warm body. 

—---

“Today for our appetizer special, we are offering a caesar salad croquette covered a delightfully golden, crunchy coating filled an unctuous chicken thigh centre with parmesan and anchovy. Served with a familiar zingy caesar dressing and spinach puree, topped with a parmesan crisp.

Monday afternoon, Magnus finds himself sitting in on another lunch meeting. But unlike the other lunches, Magnus and Alec sit side by side close enough he feels the familiar heat of Alec’s body against his. Alec’s arm rests on the top of Magnus’s chair, his hand nearly on his shoulder and his thumb occasionally stroking him, making Magnus shiver. Magnus sits quietly during the meeting eating the prepared lunch, only half listening to the servers practice selling the menu, having a hard time paying attention to being surrounded by Alec. His body heat, his smell, his touch and the rumble of his voice as he praises the servers and gives them notes.

“What do you think?”

Magnus jumps, not noticing Raphael approach the table. In his hands are small white boxes, which remind him of Chinese take away containers. “What’s that?”

“Alec came up with a great idea of sending mini desserts home in a box.” He holds the small box in front of Magnus, waiting for him to take one, which he does, turning it around in his hand to inspect it. “It’s so obvious. Alec is always so full of ideas.”

“So obvious.” Magnus says, destain clear in his voice. Apparently, Alec and Raphael were getting along better than Alec had described to him.

“And Alec, I love those wines you recommended for the new menu.”

Wine recommendations? When had they discussed that, and why wasn’t Magnus invited to this conversation? And how many other secret conversations had the pair had? Magnus is suddenly suspicious and feeling anger bubbling inside him. He’d only been gone a week. Originally, he’d planned on taking two, and if he had, what would have happened? Would he have even had a restaurant to come back to? Instead of making a scene at the table, he buries his feelings, shoving them down and puts them away for later. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to discuss that with Magnus—” Alec calls after Raphael but the man has left the room, leaving the dining space quiet with servers staring at him. Alec clears his throat, ignoring Magnus’s stare he can see from his peripherals and the way Magnus shifts his chair, making his arm fall from the top. 

“John, tell us about the cod dish.”

John quickly stands from his seat, nearly knocking his chair to the floor. He wipes his sweaty hands on his uniform, then takes a deep breath, looking at the two chefs. “For our fish main, we’re serving a cod fillet with a luxurious chive butter sauce, topped with a poached egg for a final flourish, sitting on a bed of crushed jersey royals and wilted spinach.”

—--

“Table five’s coming up in two seconds, chef.”

Dinner service is tense. It’s like the first night they worked together all over again, opposite sides of the kitchen, not speaking, and barely making eye contact. Magnus focuses on his dishes, afraid of speaking to Alec in fear of everything he’s feeling falling out and say something he regrets. It’s clear Alec knows he’s upset. Magnus can see how Alec studies him when he thinks the chef isn’t paying attention and multiple times he comes over to speak, but thinks better of it and backs away. But despite the tension and lack of speaking, the everything runs smoothly, their dishes are perfect and leave the kitchen one after another, coming back with good reviews from customers.

“Alec,” Raphael says, interrupting Alec. “The couple at table eight want to say hello. They’re drooling over the cod.”

“Magnus’s responsible for all the food.” He says without looking at Raphael, continuing to dress plates.

“Magnus won’t mind,” He chuckles, following Alec down the line from the other side of the metal tables. “He hates leaving the kitchen.”

“Interesting.” Magnus bites, looking at the two men. “What else can you tell us about him?”

“You know what?” Raphael says, slapping the table. “I’m not gonna get into this. I don’t care who goes out there.” He turns to Magnus, pointing a finger at him. “ But if it is you, do me a favour and try not to stab anyone who complains.”

Raphael leaves the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind him. Magnus spins on his heels facing Alec, who leans against a table, his arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face. 

“Don’t look at me.”

Magnus exhales deeply, trying to remain calm. Ever since lunch, he’d felt like something was off. At first he thought he was paranoid about being away from work, but between the wines and just then with Raphael, something was up. Magnus was sure of it. Raphael had always used sarcasm with him and was rough around the edges, but he’d never insult him. 

“You. Me. In there. Now.” Magnus orders, gesturing to the walk-in freezer. Magnus walks ahead, leaving a confused Alec who only moments later follows him into the freezer, letting the door slam shut behind him. 

“So, what’s the story?”

“What do you mean?”

Magnus scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest “I turn my back for a couple of days and it’s: “Alec, the wine. Alec, the customers. Alec, the boxes-“

“He offered me your job.”

“What?” Magnus is stunned at Alec's admission. He takes a small step back from Alec. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe this!”

“I was going to tell you—”

“When?” He shouts. The cold tone in Magnus’s voice surprises Alec, who backs up a step as Magnus steps forward again. “Tonight? Next week when I came into work and no longer have a job?” He steps into Alec’s space again until he hits the opposite wall of the freezer. “Or were you going to wait until you were in my bed again?”

“Magnus that’s not—”

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.” He snaps, turning away from Alec. Suddenly everything falls into place in his mind, and it all makes sense. How easily time off was given to him, the difference he felt in his kitchen, hiring a chef who was a fan of his. Was it all part of Raphael’s plan to replace him? Despite being in a freezer, Magnus is hot with anger. His blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin and he loses it. “The moment I met you, I knew–”

Alec grabs his shoulder, forcing the chef to turn around and face him. “No, the truth is you can’t trust anyone. You’ve never trusted anyone in your life–”

“Why should I when this happens?” Magnus hisses, tears of anger falling to his cheek. “Why didn’t you have the balls to run your own kitchen, Alexander? Or do you prefer just coming in and taking over another chef’s kitchen so you don’t have to work as hard?”

Alec looks at Magnus, shocked at the accusation. “Is that what you think?”

“Yeah,” Magnus confirms, “That’s exactly what I think.”

Alec sighs heavily and nods. He wipes away tears which had fallen from his eyes at some point and unties the apron from his waist. “You know, Magnus, it’s okay to let people in sometimes. Maybe one of these days you’ll figure that out.”

“You don’t understand.” Magnus pleads. He blocks the doors of the freezer with his body, stopping Alec from leaving. “This place is my life. This is who I am.”

“This isn’t who you are, Magnus. It’s only one little part.” He places his hand on Magnus’ shoulder, gently moving his aside, “and it’s not even the best part.”

Alec leaves the freezer, letting the door slam shut with a bang behind him, leaving Magnus alone not only in the freezer but in the kitchen for the first time in a while. 

Dinner service moves on without Alec, with only Magnus running into the kitchen. He barks orders at the chefs, snaps at the servers and refuses to speak with Raphael, who attempts to pull him aside multiple times. Magnus knows he’s being terrible to work with tonight, but he can’t help it and can only hope everyone will forgive him by tomorrow. When dinner service winds down and the kitchen is wiped clean, Magnus leaves in a hurry before Raphael can catch him to talk. Once home, he takes his phone he’d left at home for Madzie and notices he has a single text message.

For the record, said no. I turned Raphael’s offer down.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

This is a huge question so no worries if you don't want to come up with an answer. But I would love to know - What do you feel like you've learned so far about each Beatle as an artists by going through their solo material (in as far as you've gotten)? And has that changed or shapped your opinion of how their individual artististic styles/philosphies interacted while they were in the Beatles? Obviously, their artistry changed due to outside forces while they were in the Beatles (John learning about Yoko's philosphy, George's engagement with Indian music theory) but do you see things in their solo careers so far that you feel like connect to the very beginnings of them developing as artists? The interlinking concepts of artistic philosophy, "the artist," and "the artist as collaborative" is maybe the topic I find most interesting in Beatledom and it seems to be so rarely discussed anywhere I've seen. But I have almost none of the necessary musical understanding to fully engage with it on my own. So I'd love to hear any thoughts you have? (Hopefully, I phrased this in a way that makes sense.)

Hi anon! Thank you so much for this very interesting ask!

It’s very difficult to answer, but I’ll share some (super jumbled) thoughts I have on this and hope to hear from you again! I actually find their artistic output quite a natural progression in general so none of it is strictly divided into solo career and Beatles.

I structured this by band member (also if someone only wants to read one of them I recommend John because I had the most to say about him cause I'd previously given this the most thought).

DISCLAIMER: these are my subjective opinions. Huge chance someone might disagree with some of it or find some of it reductive and that’s fine and welcome!

Ringo, who listens

Ringo is perhaps the most collaborative of all – the most open to working with the three others, even immediately after the breakup. This makes sense, given his instrument, which he rarely ever used to show off; no, Ringo’s artistry is primarily that of listening and adjusting his playing to the needs of whomever he’s working with. Some may criticize his skills as a songwriter, but his ability to instinctively figure out exactly what those around him need is a talent not to be reckoned with. And, despite never playing with an ego, he also can almost never help leaving a signature on every song he touches, but never out of place or overstaying his welcome.

Paul, who interacts

I think Paul lives and breathes music. He is exquisitely talented, yes, but it goes deeper than that. I think music is his life force and one of the primary ways he interacts with the world. The world calls and he responds in song and I think this has always and will always be a part of him – what changed throughout his career is how many tools he had access to to make it happen.

A song doesn’t need to be the best thing he’s done so far for it to be worth it to Paul. He wants to create and discover and share his discoveries with the world. Sometimes he gets a very specific vision for a large-scale project, and then he starts wanting to be the Newest, Best, Most Complex, but he’s still always happy to write a silly “underwhelming” guitar song and release that as well!

Concerning collaboration, I think Paul is very forward-thinking and planning when it comes to his music, which makes giving creative space to others difficult for him at times. He also tends to jump on others’ ideas – again he’s reacting musically and building on the original concept. Many might call it controlling and find it overbearing, but I think it all originates from an almost primal need to make music.

George, who imparts

I think George is someone with many things he actively wants to say, and he has decided for himself that music is the best vessel for them. He consciously uses melody and production to share his wisdom, a fluent speaker of music and a meticulous curator of it. I feel like George’s development as a songwriter is less marked by him becoming more thoughtful and more by him learning to utilize music to impart his message. I Want To Tell You feels like him identifying the issue, and his development throughout the latter half of the 60s truly feels like him mastering the language of music.

I think generally, George wants his work to be respected and the message to remain intact, and beyond that he is happy to collaborate. I think he sometimes misread Paul’s forceful suggestions as Paul “not getting it”, which is why he later on softened on the Taxman guitar solo and the Something bassline, when he realized that – despite Paul having been an unideal communicator at the time – feeling inspired like that is Paul’s way of paying respect to others' music.

John, who expresses

I think John was the most contradictory of the four, in terms of his actual artistic output vs. his artistic ideals. Hearing Bob Dylan in 1964 brought his attention to the idea of “songs with a message”, which immediately appealed to him as a concept.

Some point to songs like I’m A Loser or You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away as his first truly thoughtful songs. John himself referred to them as some of his first honest songs once, but I think the mid-64 shift is mostly characterized by him slowly pulling away from songs written to fulfill certain criteria of marketability (“Let’s write us a swimming pool”-type songs), rather than the true beginning of his thoughtful vulnerability. (Just look at songs like I’ll Be Back, This Boy, and There’s A Place; it had always been there!)

By 1966, he’s started charting his own musical path, imagining new subjects songs could be about, and this is around the time his music begins converging with his other writings and drawings. He finds endless joy in the use of wordplay and clever assonances, regardless of the specific meaning.

Yet, come the 70s, he appears rather disappointed in many song he perceives to be meaningless, often favouring his pieces, which to him express a discernible message or at the very least a “worthwhile” emotion.

It’s always felt incredibly dissonant to me. If he doesn’t like “vapid music” (paraphrasing him here) then why is he writing, say, Cry, Baby, Cry in 1968?

Well, my theory is that John, despite loving the idea of being an artist with a clear and concise message to convey, is at his heart one who expresses, regardless of how easily understood he ends up being or how “important” what he has to say in that moment is. The fact that he continued to sing, despite hating his own voice shows this, I’d say. He wanted to get it out, even when he was ashamed.

As for collaborations, I get the feeling John was quite open to them but also kept most people at somewhat of an arm’s length and was at times afraid of letting people too close. Perhaps that was due to some negative experiences with the Beatles (notably Paul) where songs didn’t turn out as he had wished they would.

[bovine-providence]

The Body is a Canvas

Illuso x Reader

Your creativity isn’t coming out. Thankfully, your boyfriend has a suggestion.

[CWs: suggestive ending]

You picked up the pencil, and put it down again. Staring at the blank paper on the sketchpad before you, you sighed. You wanted to do something, let out this creative energy brimming inside you, but you had no ideas.

You hated it.

You looked around the section of your apartment you called a studio, it inspiration couldn’t be found there either. Gouache, costumes, paper… none of it was sparking any ideas.

“What’s my little artist up to?” you heard your boyfriend Illuso inquire as he stepped in from the kitchen. You turned to him, shrugging.

“Not much, honestly,” you sighed. “Just… nothing’s coming to me.”

“That sucks,” he agreed, plopping down into the nearby sofa. Eyeing the sketchpad, he added “we’re you going for a quick sketch?”

“I mean, I’m open to anything at this point. I just want to create something.” You gestured around at the studio corner. “Any ideas? Requests?”

Illuso grew quiet for a moment, studying the art equipment. Then he smirked at you.

“Use me for your next masterpiece.”

“…Pardon?” Sure, you’ve used him as a model before, and God knows your shared apartment was littered with the results. But ‘use him’?

Illuso stood up and strode towards the costumes you used for cosplaying, and picked up a bottle of body paint. Turning towards you, he held up the bottle. “Use me for your canvas, [Y/N]. Maybe I’ll inspire you.”

“…Fine,” you chuckled. “But let me set up a work canvas first.”

>>>>

After laying out a canvas, Illuso was reclined comfortably only in his briefs. Watching you prepare the paints, he laid back on a cushion he took from the sofa.

“Have any inspiration yet?” he questioned smugly. Glancing over at him, you grinned.

“Maaaaybe,” you giggled. Picking up a small brush, you dabbed it carefully into the sunny yellow on your palette. “Let me know how it feels,” you murmured over him. As you carefully swirled the brush tip around his nipple, he inhaled sharply.

“You alright?”

“Just… tickles is all,” he replied. You hummed before returning focus to the project before you. A few more strokes and his nipple and the skin around it was covered. Dipping the brush in water, you covered it in a warm orange and soon, Illuso’s nipple had become a sun.

“Alright, next one,” you muttered. Illuso looked down at the finished piece.

“Going Van Gogh?” he asked.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, before you repeated the process with his other nipple.

Your creativity was beginning to awaken now. You pulled the palette and water closer to your boyfriend’s prone body as you straddled him.

“This will help with the angle,” you explained to your red-eyes lover.

“I’m sure,” he replied sarcastically, placing his hands on your thighs. You shivered at the contact, but continued with your work regardless.

(While you were busy applying swirling strikes of color across his chest and torso, Illuso couldn’t help studying you as you worked. You furrowed your brow as you painted, subtly sticking your tongue out in concentration. He could watch you all day. His expression softened as you focused entirely on covering him in paints. He wondered if that was the secret to how beautiful your art turned out, the love and focus you put into your craft.)

You didn’t notice how much time had passed while you covered Illuso in a dizzying kaleidoscope of flowers, vines, and leaves. Morning glories graced his neck while colorful roses and were placed along his collarbone. Feeling cute, you had added a sunflower on his cheek.

Finally, you leaned back to admire your work.

“I think you’re about finished,” you noted happily. Illuso blinked up at you before smiling gently.

“Have a mirror I can see myself with?” He asked as you helped him up.

“Sure. Could I take some pictures?” At his raised eyebrow, you added, “they wouldn’t be posted, I just want them for inspiration down the road.”

“Of course, amore,” he purred. “You can have as big a private collection as you’d like.”

Rolling your eyes, you led him to the full length mirror in the bedroom. Studying his reflection, he grinned.

“Wonderful work as always,” he murmured to you. He leaned down to peck a kiss to your lips, before closing in on your ear. “But it’s incomplete.”

“Incomplete?” you questioned.

Your boyfriend grinned and wrapped his hands around your hips, pulling you in.

“You only did my upper body,” he explained. “What if…” taking your hand in his, he guided it towards his briefs.

Your eyes widened before you looked up, sharing a grin with him.

“You’re right; I should finish up this piece.”

Giggling, you and your latest masterpiece returned to the laid out canvas.

[author-morgan]

i sent in an Eivor request and was wondering when it might be completed. it’s been a few weeks now. if you don’t want to write it that’s fine! i’ll check with another author who wrote for him.

I was just going to turn a blind eye to this ask, but you know what? no. I am one of many fanfic writers on this site that is tired of being treated like crap. I put in hours of work, hours of my own time, writing what I want and fulfilling requests for friends and strangers all for FREE. only to never be reblogged by the person who requested it, to never even get a reply to the post or a DM to say 'hey, thanks for writing my request, I liked the story.' I'm tired of it. and now you want to put time restraints on how long it takes me to fulfill a request that you sent me? lmao.

to get things started off, my requests are currently closed. they have been since the summer of 2021. had you looked at my pinned post (which I'm assuming you did to even see that I took requests), then you would've seen this:

all the stories I've recently posted as responses to asks are me trying to catch up on requests, hence why I am not currently taking new requests. I still have over 10 requests in my inbox and numerous requests through DMs to write before I even think of opening my requests again. but if this is the new attitude? then I might just keep them closed forever now.

secondly, believe it or not. I have a life. I am an adult with responsibilities and a Ph.D. student. which means (even in the summer) I have to work sometimes 50 hours a week writing papers, being in the lab, and helping external users with analyses, even though I'm only paid for 20 of those hours (and for the cherry on top, the pay is shit to begin with).

forgive me for not having an endless amount of time to fulfill your request in less than two weeks when it's a big deal to just be able to cook a meal at night or have an hour to watch TV or play a game. and may I remind you, WHAT I DO WRITE IS ALWAYS FREE. but it's not really free is it? it costs time to write, edit, format, and fight Tumblr's shitty post editor to make sure I don't forget people on my taglist. I am not being paid, this is not a hobby for me, not a ko-fi side hustle.

and lastly? my motivation to write has been shit as of late because I know what the response is going to be like. my friends and mutuals will reblog (and I love them for it) and then it'll be ratioed to hell by likes. when the notes on a post look like this, that's an issue. and it's why content creators are leaving this site or not posting as much as we used to.

I'm not writing for clout but when there is a reblog to like ratios like this on every single fic? and when the person who requests said fic isn't even among the reblogs? it's a slap in the face. it's mindless consumption which isn't what fandom should be about.

if you want more content on Tumblr, it is a two-way street. you have to interact with us by reblogging posts. you should reply with a simple comment, even if it's just 'hey I enjoyed this story' or 'this was cool.' otherwise? don't be surprised when your favorite writers, artists, editors, gif makers, etc stop creating and leave. if you can hit a like button (which does absolutely nothing) you can take one more second and reblog too.

and idk, if you want a story written with a super quick turnaround time maybe you should consider starting to write yourself. quality over quantity in this house and in the words of Alton Brown "your patience will be rewarded." just ask @mrsragnarlodbrok who has waited sometimes 6 months to have a story written and posted. so yeah, rant over. get off your high horse anon. I don't owe you shit if this is your attitude toward fanfic writers.

[sir-klauz]

So awkward seeing some fiction posted that’s creepily similar to your own you’ve been working so hard to create, researched, and such from your own experiences heart and imagination and they’re just throwing it around like it’s theirs with not that much changed about it aside from statement names and such. Well, at least I have my originals thank goodness!

Please check out Orange Juice In The Studio, a love story about a couple residing in a manga artists studio apartment in Spain, and just, couple things, warm, and it’s mature content and smut but also safe nsft and a bit more realistic depictions than some harmful representations of queer men engaging in romance that is trending and getting a lot of bottoms/subs hurt because of people’s refusal to talk about using lubricant and safety and treating an ass like a vag basically which doesn’t self lubricate anyone with experience would know nor enjoy being rawed with zero prep aha unless you like pain and being damaged ! Anyway, that said, that’s why I wanted to write it really, it’s important to me, the real love that happens and consent and boundaries and safety with things some people may not even know what to do because barely anyone teaches us about queer intimacy that people aren’t taught!

The second is definitely just some comedy and funny smut fanfiction for Ayato and Diluc, here’s the link to this, I’ll update ASAP but I haven’t atm as I’ve been a bit busy but hopefully I’ll get some more of that series done soon!

If anyone would like to give feedback please do, I’ve tagged with as many warnings and such as included within both but as always I welcome any tags you’d recommend me adding as I want to 100% communicate with the reader what will be within the story and what is suitable for their tastes and preference, and do not wish to spook anyone etc. as well, the nature of it is mature fiction so includes as such. I truly hope people enjoy it, but please, don’t steal it! I’m struggling enough as it is to keep motivation in writing it, and I will, but I am also not physically well right now so can’t schedule writing as easily as someone who isn’t and I hope to keep bringing my writing to people again. It doesn’t help that my side blog I was promoting it with most got censored the other day so I’ll probably put stuff about updates to chapters and art about it on here now instead, or, on @crimsonyoukai once I get that one up and running to replace my nsfw one.

Please don’t take my stuff, credit a little, or address me about maybe collaborating or something instead. I appreciate inspiration being taken but when it becomes painstakingly almost the same, that’s not okay at all. I don’t get paid for this, this is my art, this is my work, these are my ideas alone, and if it’s fanfiction it’s my ideas based in locations presented in game, or the characters and their basic personality and abilities but otherwise the rest, I’ve made it all up. I’m in pain most days, a parent, and stuff going on and it’s not as easy for me as some to just whip up and do this stuff! I can’t stop anyone but if you do take inspo let me know and I won’t mind of course unless it’s basically the same thing, hell if you liked the story that much just quote as fanfiction. Cripes. Maybe I should take it as a compliment that it was that good it had to be taken as their own. It’s fine. My originals are still up and dated and they are there as proof as well if I go further with it.