sequinnox
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No one prays to the goddess of Death anymore; not unless they're telling her to go away. Rukia would find it amusing, given that the selfish gods to whom they pray would never care to listen to the most ardent of requests; she was to meet multitudes in singularity, in thousands of places she had seen before.
It was the death of a star that burnt the brightest, wasn't it? Death was a new beginning, even before humans knew what to do with it.
Before they learnt to fear her.
// A reinterpretation of cosmology
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Hours. Coordinates. Fingerprints.
Loid tilted his head back, feeling the gentle stretch of his skin across his jaw, his neck; blonde eyelashes fluttered slightly as his eyes closed. Through the open window, stray tones of blues filled the air like a memory. Once again it seemed that he had started floating somewhere between timelines, an atemporal universe where all his emotions had been piled neatly, year after year. For the mission.
Or: A study in technicolour hues on Loid's identity issues
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"If the pantheon wanted her to be a sweet, tight-lipped little thing, Rukia had no qualms about setting it all on fire – what kind of goddess of spring would she be, if she couldn't make everything bloom anew? After all, hers was the fury."
Or: A king, a queen, and a bowl of strawberries.
(A Hades and Persephone retelling) -
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His name sounded like a curse in her mouth as she spit it out, like a snake propelling its venom. Ichigo. The one who protects.
The one who failed to protect Rukia.
The one who failed to protect her heart.
“Rukia, I-”Day 4: "Come on, let's go home"
Series
- Part 7 of Stars Not Fathomed Into Constellations
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Despite all the thermic charms that had been placed on their common room, astounding charms too, Rukia felt a shiver running down her spine. The Slytherin common room was truly a masterpiece, with the high arches and liberal view towards the lake, in true pureblood fashion.
Unfortunately for the students though, the pureblood fashion rarely had anything to do with practicality.
Day 3: Love potion
Series
- Part 6 of Stars Not Fathomed Into Constellations
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Let there be a thousand different worlds, and we shall meet in each one of them.
IchiRuki-Centered, unrelated works.
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Vi looks at the big clock on the far wall. 7:46AM. She’s one minute late today. Every morning for the past six months - well, every morning Vi’s been on shift, so she’s just assuming about the other days - she’s passed by at exactly 7:45AM, always at a brisk walk, always in a perfectly-tailored suit, not a single long, silky-looking hair out of place.
7:47AM. The crisp clack of heeled boots on concrete pulls Vi out of her musings. There must have been some sort of emergency, because the subject of Vi’s (minor) obsession walks past the fire station at a faster clip than normal. Which is sort of saying something, because Mystery Woman’s got legs for days, long and slender, visibly toned with long, lean muscle through her suit pants. At the faster clip, Vi has less time to admire her ass and tiny, tiny waist as she walks by, but that’s fine, because the view as she leaves is fantastic.
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Caitlyn's route to work as a detective at the 51st Precinct takes her right by Fire Station #516, and Vi's been pining after the gorgeous Mystery Woman for six months...what will happen when she finds out that Caitlyn's a cop (AKA: The Enemy)?
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- Part 1 of Emergency Services Lesbians
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Bookmarked by sequinnox
04 Dec 2025
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Kitten liked living in the Mortal Realms. Here, she had a Mama and Papa who loved her, and exciting things to see and learn every day. Mama and Papa took her traveling, and even let her help with locks and spells. She had friends, like the Blue-Fire Man and the Goddess’s Handmaid, and her Aunt Cloud and Spots.
There was only one thing that Kitten didn’t like, really, about her life in the mortal realms, and that was Papa’s women.
Bookmarked by sequinnox
26 Nov 2025
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But Maybe They Were Just Good Friends by Rusakko for charminglygrouped
Fandoms: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
19 Sep 2025
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The history side of Tumblr discusses the 19th-century historical figure Catherine Darcy.
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- English
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- 3,034
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by sequinnox
23 Sep 2025
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A Woman of Independent Means by PacificRimbaud for Misdemeanor1331
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
14 Feb 2021
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In London, 1851, Draco Malfoy, Earl of Wiltshire, has been tasked with gifting the British Museum with a bequest from his grandfather's estate. Simple enough, but for the mysterious contents of the gift, and the museum staff assigned to receive it.
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Bookmarked by sequinnox
13 Aug 2025
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Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find—someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters he at least felt like he’d earned a sort of common law ownership.
The woman—presently possessed by what looked like a semi-sentient mass of curls atop her head—looked up, eyes widening before she graced the space between them with a kind smile that could cut through any density of grit or dust or grime. The sort of simple smile that could pulverize rocks: be them buried in the earth or caged behind ribs.
He stared at her, belatedly and painfully aware that his mouth had curled into a sneer mostly without his consent.
[In which two otherwise intelligent and dignified people fight over a classroom and realize they are very, very into each other.]
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- English
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Bookmarked by sequinnox
12 Aug 2025