reblog if ur currently scrolling tumblr to procrastinate writing ur fanfic
Whilst I haven't reached WCI yet, I am aware of Katakuri and some of his powers. As such, I'd like to pose the following questions about Charlotte Katakuri:
Is his mochi edible?
Can he change the flavour of his mochi?
Does the mochi have any nutritional value?
If someone took a bite out of Katakuri's mochi and he turned back into flesh from mochi, would the piece that was bitten off stay as mochi or turn to flesh?
Idk, me and a few friends were just chatting about katakuri and this just popped into my head.
Bout to start writing a time travel fix it fic for epic where some random crew member gets sent back in time after being murked by zeus. His name is Steven-dave and I love him already.
I'd very much like to be blessed by the money snake
When you've been up for 57 hours straight and you still can't go to sleep yet because you have physics hw to do
Dick Grayson barely registered the creak of his apartment door as he stumbled in, shoulders sagging under the weight of another grueling night. Three jobs and a patrol shift in Blüdhaven would do that to a guy. He kicked off his boots, dragged himself toward the couch, and froze mid-step.
Someone was already here.
For a split second, instinct had him reaching for the escrima sticks he kept stashed near the door. But then he caught the faintest whiff of something familiar—coffee beans? The expensive kind. And the faint rustle of someone shifting in the dark. He relaxed. Probably one of his siblings. Jason liked breaking in unannounced when he was in a mood, Tim treated locks like they were a mere suggestion, and Damien was Damien.
"Tim, if you're raiding my coffee stash again, at least leave some for me this time," Dick grumbled, flopping onto the couch without bothering to look.
Silence.
"Jason? Did you lose your keys, or are you here to eat all my leftovers again?" He paused. "Duke, if that's you, I—okay, actually, no idea why you'd be brooding in the dark, but it's been a long day, so I'm just gonna roll with it."
The silence stretched on, but Dick was too exhausted to care. Whoever it was, they could wait until morning. "Look, I’m on your side. Or, I will be in the morning when I’ve had some sleep." He yawned, dragging himself up off the couch and toward his bedroom. "I’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk then. Pancakes or eggs, your call. Just...try not to trash the place while I’m out, yeah?"
The figure didn’t move, and Dick didn’t wait for an answer. He fell into bed and passed out almost immediately.
---
When Dick woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The second thing he noticed was the smell of coffee.
He frowned. Coffee? He hadn’t made any.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, on the counter, was a steaming mug of coffee and a note. Beside the note sat a printed receipt and a bag of fresh groceries.
Dick blinked, reaching for the note first. The handwriting was sharp and precise:
> "Not one of your siblings. Sorry for the confusion. Came to deliver a message, but your ‘brotherly’ assumption and hospitality caught me off guard. Your fridge was so pathetic it offended me, so I ordered you groceries. They should last a week. Try to survive the next visit. You seem like a stand-up guy. —K"
He stared at the note, then at the receipt. The assassin—or whoever they were—had bought him eggs, milk, bread, fresh vegetables, and even a few snacks.
Setting the note aside, Dick opened his fridge. Sure enough, it was freshly stocked. His two protein bars and box of expired cereal were still there, now dwarfed by the bounty of fresh food.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Only me,” he muttered, sipping the coffee. It was good. Better than what he usually bought.
Dick leaned against the counter, rereading the note. Whoever this “K” was, they clearly didn’t know how to keep things impersonal. And while the whole “message from an assassin” thing was technically alarming, he couldn’t help but feel amused.
“I guess I should be worried,” he mused aloud, glancing at the groceries again. “But hey, at least they care about my nutrition.”
It was the weirdest start to a morning he’d had in a while, but for Dick Grayson, that wasn’t saying much.
Whilst Eurylochus isn't as faultless as my baby Polites, doesn't mean everything was his fault. Did he open the wind bag? Yes, yes, he did. Did that directly lead to poseidon killing of the crew? No, it didn't. Poseidon would have taken revenge on Odysseus and his crew either way, not just because they were pushed further away from Ithaca. As observed in the snippet of 'get in the water', we've seen that poseidon is more than capable of appearing anywhere in the ocean. Ergo, he was going to kill them all anyway, Eurylochus just spiced things up by changing the location they died. Furthermore, he wasn't wrong to mutiny against Odysseus, and realistically, he wasn't the one fully at fault for zeus and 'thunder bringer'. Now, I'm not saying he's faultless because most of the blame definitely falls onto him. What I am saying is that he was tired and hungry, and he'd given up. Think about it, he'd probably not eaten in days if he stopped off at the first island he came across and killed the sun God's cows. He'd just mutinied against his captain, his friend. Suddenly, the lives of all the crew rest souly on his shoulders. And he's just so tired. Tired of Odysseus ignoring his concerns, tired of seeing his friends and comrades die, tired of seeing Odysseus change for the worst and tired of being hungry. He wasn't in the right state of mind, he'd completely given up by the second half of 'mutiny'. During 'thunder bringer' he doesn't sound angry or even very betrayed. He just sounds apathetic, he's entirely given up at this point. He wants it all to end, and I can't say I blame him. What I'm saying is that, in this situation, would anyone have done anything different? With several gods already looming over you, wishing for your destruction, being so tired and so hungry, and having seen so many of your friends die would anyone really have left those cows?
Tldr; Eurylochus isn't entirely at fault, nobody is entirely at fault. All the actions taken are understandable. They are just humans and they make mistakes.
Does anyone have any book recommendations for my Alevel coursework. I was thinking about doing 'crime and punishment' or 'Iron widow' but I have no clue what to compare either of them with.
Polites. Polites I fucking love you. I love you, I have always loved you and I will always love you.
If there are one million Polites fans, I am one of them.
If there is one Polites fan, that is me.
If there are no polites fans, the very concept of my existence has been wiped from every universe and timeline.
No one could ever make me hate you polites, you can never do any wrong and you are perfect.
If Polites was alive during 'keep your friends close' then odysseus would have just been napping on polites lap and polites would be glaring at the crew like 'I may greet the world with open arms but I swear to the gods I will greet your face with my tightly closed fist if you try to get this bag open.' He would look at Eurylochus and go 'Try me, I dare you. Try and get this bag open and see how well that goes for you. I swear Eury, do NOT test me.'
Polites > everyone else ever