monthly word count - july
TOTAL: 7 069
boooooooo.
buuuuut i also got a full-time job, SO. u___u
POSTED
-bleach daemon AU: let's go and throw all the songs we know into the sea - Grimmjow and Ichigo's romantic as balls first date as told through a series of outsider povs.(4626 words)
WIP
-bleach: daemon AU, random grimmjow pov that's pretty aimless and idk where it's going but i like exploring the dynamics with other daemon-seeking hollows (703 words)
-bleach: ichigo/grimmjow/orihime cuddle drug fic (981 words)
-bleach: bloodsport (649 words) (i am so fucking stuck on that porn. they do not want to rivals xenofuck and keep trying to turn it to cuddles. what the fuck, guys. what the entire fuck. at least it's still xeno cuddlefuck but damn it.)
-ofic: hatefuckers: immanuel/dhalion (112 words but also lots of edits, so. no teasers tho because this tiny barely-drbble-length thing is somehow spoiler city.)
also edited jor plagueconsorts fic AND first landlord for eventual publication. nothing new but smoother now. u.u-b
--
-- (this is right after the first time grimmjow tried on the gigai but before anything else in the series.) --
"So how are we deciding on order, Don Grimmjow?"
Some tetchy bird face pipes up eagerly. "I know where to find a lot of--"
Grimmjow arches his eyebrows, eyelids still heavy, unimpressed. "No bribes."
"How then? Aren't you going to choose anyway?" someone else asks from behind the group with heavy resentment. He can't pinpoint which one, which was probably deliberate.
"Do I look like your mother," Grimmjow drawls back. "I'm here to stop you doing stupid shit, not to hold your hands."
"Arrancar number?" someone suggests.
Grimmjow snorts. "I'm game but in that case Nakeem goes before any of you. No, I don't care how you guys choose. Just sort it out amongst yourselves."
"... I don't know that you want to say that, Grimmjow-sama" Aaroniero's chick says, sneaking him a side-look as she crab-walks out of the group like she won't turn her back on them.
Grimmjow blinks; then he snorts, the first spark of amusement since he had to leave Leucanthe upstairs. "It would save me from killing them myself."
She stares, eyes blank behind the mask. "I thought you were the type of person not to think of that as something you needed saving from."
"Right." He blinks slowly as he watches her, one hand pointedly toying with the pommel of his sword. "You trying to avoid the battle royale or planning a sneak attack here?"
"Uh -- neither one?"
"Uh huh. Because you're not getting past me."
"Oh no, I'm fine waiting a bit longer. I figure I'll only stop being fine with it once it's moot because I have him back. May I ask you some questions about--"
"No science shit."
She actually pouts under the beak. He can see her gearing up to ask something else, vaguely wonders how far he wants to let her push him -- she's so much weaker she's no kind of threat, it doesn't seem worth making it physical.
Also he's... Hm. Anyone comes at him bodily he will shred with a burst of unhinged glee, or rage, or something unbalanced like that. But in words...
He still wants to touch people. Still remembers Leucanthe's fur and her weight on him and his body still aches for shit he's given no one but his fraccion in centuries. Companionable quiet, meaningless murmurs, all casually in each other's personal space.
This chick doesn't rate and neither does Dordoni. But. Yeah. Weird.
Shit. What is he gonna do when he has her back. Like, with his days. He's not going back to Hueco Mundo but the Living World can't sustain a hollow of his level for long either, and he's gonna start Ceroing tunnels through Kisuke's basement out of boredom at some point. What can he do?
What does he want to do? He can't even imagine.
Maybe he'll have an idea when she's here again. Maybe she'll know. Or just want something it didn't occur to him to want. Where does he get fights worth his name --
-- What time is it? He checks the clock by the ladder at a glance. Kurosaki has to be walking out of school. He won't notice he's walking back alone, that nobody's stalking him, but tomorrow --
"Grimmjow," Nakeem says quietly, and Grimmjow rocks back down from the balls of his feet, glances expressionless at all the arrancar who just flinched back from him, to hide the flash of embarrassment.
He knows better than to expect anything for tomorrow. But he could... Shit, he could actually -- Kurosaki would see him this time around.
See Leucanthe. See how different they are. Learn her the same way Grimmjow has learned Rikuto, the subtle angles of their faces and the hidden markings and the exact length of their backs and haunches. Hear her cracked, low, mocking voice.
Grimmjow wants to show her off to him, wants him to admit she's gorgeous and strong and not at all like his own. Wants to generously allow that they might, actually, be a little alike.
Then he wants to punch him in the face and see if that takes the maudlin moues off it.
--
Which. Fuck kimono sleeves. Tousen had tried to make them wear kimono the one time, early on. Grimmjow had ended up only putting an arm in and resting his other elbow inside like a sling, just to piss him off.
"What's making you smile?" the princess asked as she moved behind him to tug his collar into place. Grimmjow blinked.
"That time Tousen tried to dress us like reverse shinigami."
"Oh? How did that go?"
She sounded cautious, but -- interested. He thought. Grimmjow snorted at the memory, lips curling up at the corner as he glanced back at her. "Yammy cracked his hakama across the ass and ceroed the whole pile of them into ashes."
"--Oh dear." She giggled in her hand; he chuckled along, shoulders loosening, let her finish tugging the kimono into place. The collar tickled where it brushed the hair falling over his nape.
"It was a stupid idea anyway, most of us were fucking naked before that and he wanted us straight into wide sleeves and shit that would fall right off if you tugged lightly on a single knot. Yeah, smart."
Kurosaki spluttered, head shooting up. "Naked?"
Grimmjow gave as slow a blink as he could, amused. "You seen a lot of adjuchas with clothes?"
Kurosaki groaned heartily and lobbed the balled-up length of his halved belt at Grimmjow's chest. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. Now I'm never gonna meet a hollow again without being able to think about that."
Grimmjow let the princess handle the belt, too, raising his elbows and trailing sleeves out of her way as her hands flitted around his waist. He liked it, that she would pay so much attention that she would just assist almost as soon as he noticed he might need it, that she would touch him on her own. "What do you got against bodies in their natural state, huh," he drawled. "Just because we ain't following your boring bipedal blueprint. We're art, shinigami. We're all unique and special pieces of art. Commentary on the aesthetics of transhumanism. You don't gotta be such a philistine about it."
"... You're fucking with me, aren't you."
"Yep."
Kurosaki made a face. "You even know what those words mean?"
"Nope."
He did, but mostly because Tousen had been on an educating kick. They were up there with 'transcendental' and 'immanent' in the list of vocabulary he didn't have much use for. Though maybe he'd trot those out too, if another occasion to fuck with Kurosaki popped up...
--
-- Shit. There went his resistance. He gave it another try; swore. He couldn't hold it, couldn't keep straining, muscles gone to water with exhaustion.
He was losing. Had lost. He had known he would but it fucking burned not to be taken down in a flurry of powerful hits, but to be worn down to the end of his endurance. That wasn't how -- that wasn't how he'd wanted it. Imagined it. If he was gonna get bent over then he wanted to be fucking forced and here Kurosaki was, still staring unblinking with his creepy gold-on-black eyes as he lazed on top of him. Waiting for him to surrender.
boooooooo.
buuuuut i also got a full-time job, SO. u___u
POSTED
-bleach daemon AU: let's go and throw all the songs we know into the sea - Grimmjow and Ichigo's romantic as balls first date as told through a series of outsider povs.(4626 words)
WIP
-bleach: daemon AU, random grimmjow pov that's pretty aimless and idk where it's going but i like exploring the dynamics with other daemon-seeking hollows (703 words)
-bleach: ichigo/grimmjow/orihime cuddle drug fic (981 words)
-bleach: bloodsport (649 words) (i am so fucking stuck on that porn. they do not want to rivals xenofuck and keep trying to turn it to cuddles. what the fuck, guys. what the entire fuck. at least it's still xeno cuddlefuck but damn it.)
-ofic: hatefuckers: immanuel/dhalion (112 words but also lots of edits, so. no teasers tho because this tiny barely-drbble-length thing is somehow spoiler city.)
also edited jor plagueconsorts fic AND first landlord for eventual publication. nothing new but smoother now. u.u-b
--
-- (this is right after the first time grimmjow tried on the gigai but before anything else in the series.) --
"So how are we deciding on order, Don Grimmjow?"
Some tetchy bird face pipes up eagerly. "I know where to find a lot of--"
Grimmjow arches his eyebrows, eyelids still heavy, unimpressed. "No bribes."
"How then? Aren't you going to choose anyway?" someone else asks from behind the group with heavy resentment. He can't pinpoint which one, which was probably deliberate.
"Do I look like your mother," Grimmjow drawls back. "I'm here to stop you doing stupid shit, not to hold your hands."
"Arrancar number?" someone suggests.
Grimmjow snorts. "I'm game but in that case Nakeem goes before any of you. No, I don't care how you guys choose. Just sort it out amongst yourselves."
"... I don't know that you want to say that, Grimmjow-sama" Aaroniero's chick says, sneaking him a side-look as she crab-walks out of the group like she won't turn her back on them.
Grimmjow blinks; then he snorts, the first spark of amusement since he had to leave Leucanthe upstairs. "It would save me from killing them myself."
She stares, eyes blank behind the mask. "I thought you were the type of person not to think of that as something you needed saving from."
"Right." He blinks slowly as he watches her, one hand pointedly toying with the pommel of his sword. "You trying to avoid the battle royale or planning a sneak attack here?"
"Uh -- neither one?"
"Uh huh. Because you're not getting past me."
"Oh no, I'm fine waiting a bit longer. I figure I'll only stop being fine with it once it's moot because I have him back. May I ask you some questions about--"
"No science shit."
She actually pouts under the beak. He can see her gearing up to ask something else, vaguely wonders how far he wants to let her push him -- she's so much weaker she's no kind of threat, it doesn't seem worth making it physical.
Also he's... Hm. Anyone comes at him bodily he will shred with a burst of unhinged glee, or rage, or something unbalanced like that. But in words...
He still wants to touch people. Still remembers Leucanthe's fur and her weight on him and his body still aches for shit he's given no one but his fraccion in centuries. Companionable quiet, meaningless murmurs, all casually in each other's personal space.
This chick doesn't rate and neither does Dordoni. But. Yeah. Weird.
Shit. What is he gonna do when he has her back. Like, with his days. He's not going back to Hueco Mundo but the Living World can't sustain a hollow of his level for long either, and he's gonna start Ceroing tunnels through Kisuke's basement out of boredom at some point. What can he do?
What does he want to do? He can't even imagine.
Maybe he'll have an idea when she's here again. Maybe she'll know. Or just want something it didn't occur to him to want. Where does he get fights worth his name --
-- What time is it? He checks the clock by the ladder at a glance. Kurosaki has to be walking out of school. He won't notice he's walking back alone, that nobody's stalking him, but tomorrow --
"Grimmjow," Nakeem says quietly, and Grimmjow rocks back down from the balls of his feet, glances expressionless at all the arrancar who just flinched back from him, to hide the flash of embarrassment.
He knows better than to expect anything for tomorrow. But he could... Shit, he could actually -- Kurosaki would see him this time around.
See Leucanthe. See how different they are. Learn her the same way Grimmjow has learned Rikuto, the subtle angles of their faces and the hidden markings and the exact length of their backs and haunches. Hear her cracked, low, mocking voice.
Grimmjow wants to show her off to him, wants him to admit she's gorgeous and strong and not at all like his own. Wants to generously allow that they might, actually, be a little alike.
Then he wants to punch him in the face and see if that takes the maudlin moues off it.
--
Which. Fuck kimono sleeves. Tousen had tried to make them wear kimono the one time, early on. Grimmjow had ended up only putting an arm in and resting his other elbow inside like a sling, just to piss him off.
"What's making you smile?" the princess asked as she moved behind him to tug his collar into place. Grimmjow blinked.
"That time Tousen tried to dress us like reverse shinigami."
"Oh? How did that go?"
She sounded cautious, but -- interested. He thought. Grimmjow snorted at the memory, lips curling up at the corner as he glanced back at her. "Yammy cracked his hakama across the ass and ceroed the whole pile of them into ashes."
"--Oh dear." She giggled in her hand; he chuckled along, shoulders loosening, let her finish tugging the kimono into place. The collar tickled where it brushed the hair falling over his nape.
"It was a stupid idea anyway, most of us were fucking naked before that and he wanted us straight into wide sleeves and shit that would fall right off if you tugged lightly on a single knot. Yeah, smart."
Kurosaki spluttered, head shooting up. "Naked?"
Grimmjow gave as slow a blink as he could, amused. "You seen a lot of adjuchas with clothes?"
Kurosaki groaned heartily and lobbed the balled-up length of his halved belt at Grimmjow's chest. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. Now I'm never gonna meet a hollow again without being able to think about that."
Grimmjow let the princess handle the belt, too, raising his elbows and trailing sleeves out of her way as her hands flitted around his waist. He liked it, that she would pay so much attention that she would just assist almost as soon as he noticed he might need it, that she would touch him on her own. "What do you got against bodies in their natural state, huh," he drawled. "Just because we ain't following your boring bipedal blueprint. We're art, shinigami. We're all unique and special pieces of art. Commentary on the aesthetics of transhumanism. You don't gotta be such a philistine about it."
"... You're fucking with me, aren't you."
"Yep."
Kurosaki made a face. "You even know what those words mean?"
"Nope."
He did, but mostly because Tousen had been on an educating kick. They were up there with 'transcendental' and 'immanent' in the list of vocabulary he didn't have much use for. Though maybe he'd trot those out too, if another occasion to fuck with Kurosaki popped up...
--
-- Shit. There went his resistance. He gave it another try; swore. He couldn't hold it, couldn't keep straining, muscles gone to water with exhaustion.
He was losing. Had lost. He had known he would but it fucking burned not to be taken down in a flurry of powerful hits, but to be worn down to the end of his endurance. That wasn't how -- that wasn't how he'd wanted it. Imagined it. If he was gonna get bent over then he wanted to be fucking forced and here Kurosaki was, still staring unblinking with his creepy gold-on-black eyes as he lazed on top of him. Waiting for him to surrender.