Esteemed Bastards - Tumblr Posts

baby me used to get in a lot of accidents. my mum used to test whether or not i sprained my wrist by giving me a twix and seeing if i could eat it. now, i just end up with scratches from unknown sources (but probably my cats. i'm looking at you, Stanley).

thanks for tagging me!

@exmintha and @smushedmuffins if you're interested?

Uh idk how to start a picrew challenge, but I found a pretty cool picrew, so here goes:

https://picrew.me/image_maker/395214

Rules: make you as kid vs you now

Tagging: @a-really-tired-really-gay-bitch, @scrapmetal-spine, and @anyone else who wants to do it

This is a tumblr hug!! Send it to your ten favorite followers/mutuals 💙 You are loved!!!!

oh man tsym 🥺

🍃🌺🌙If you receive this you make somebody happy. Go and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get it back even better 🌙🌺🍃

aww thank you so much <3

🍃🌺🌙If you receive this you make somebody happy. Go and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get it back even better 🌙🌺🍃

Tysm <33333

Kez I love you so much right now (no romo) he literally hasn't moved from that spot since I took the photo about 30 mins ago

LINA I JUST REALIZED YOU’RE BEHIND THE GRISHAVERSE-NEWS BLOG THIS IS THE MOST UNEXPECTED REVEAL OF THE CENTURY

why is everyone so suprised???? i mean i could get into why with a vaguely traumatic backstory but yes??? i sometimes work for destiel daily news shall i just drop that as well

Smh my head; my wife just shot me through the head, triggered boss music and then went all "right which one of you killed my husband :<"

i am assuming this is in overwatch or something but tell ur wife i said hi she never talks to me

hey lina remember that milo pic fic-

sigh. what do you want me to write, boss? I have 2 kind of ideas if you don't know

aAAAA!!! if u have ideas for a fic i Really wanna read it give it to meee

tea i'm not even kidding i wrote an entire fic anD THEN MY PHONE DIED. i'm going to cry. anyway here's my take on a scene from the last episode (god bless supernatural 8x17)

they have been walking in silence for hours before Inej speaks, her voice a quiet murmur. "you berated me for letting her go and now that's what you're doing. so, what's your angle?"

when Kaz first made his way in the Barrel, he wasn't the indestructible man he is today. Dirtyhands is born of failure, made up of every mistake Kaz has ever made held close to his chest. he knows his weaknesses, and it's what has kept him alive so long.

how Inej - with her compassion and her honesty and her faith - hasn't realised that she is his weakness yet, he isn't sure.

"i'm keeping my promise to you," he says instead, and shouldn't it be obvious? "i swore you won't go back to the Menagerie, and one of these gemstones covers it."

Inej considers this for a moment. "she needs my help more than you."

Kaz doesn't doubt that for a second, but one girl - powerful or not - will never outshine Inej in his eyes. "but we do need you."

he pauses. he's not sure which of them stopped walking first. "i need you," he says, because the Bastard of the Barrel can't afford the luxury of speaking the truth: i love you.

Inej nods, stepping minutely closer. for a moment, Kaz is terrified that she might kiss him. the image of him having to jolt away from the press of her lips on his makes his heart beat a little faster; whether it is in horror or longing, he has yet to find out.

"i want to see the look on Heleen's face when you clear the books." Inej says, her eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. "after that... we'll see."

Kaz has met powerful men and Kaz has met monsters and Kaz has met a saint, but he still doesn't believe in miracles. he prays anyway, whether a girl no older than him will hear him or not, but he is fairly sure there is never an answer to a demon's prayers.

faith is powerful, Kaz knows. he only wishes Inej would put her faith in him.

my ace ass saw the card option and no others. thanks for tagging me!

i'll tag @kazcoded @cryptkai and @kermitdrinkingteadotjpg

Picrew time!!

Link

@heckinsnekboi, @waflbio, @vpow, @b0neless-gh0st, @diya-dreams, @notsofabulouslife07, @risenempire, @willies-skateboard, @peanut-butter-and-theatre, @beanie-jared-boyfriend

The Lives Of My Saints

there are many people who I meet or interact with who mean a lot to me, even if we've never spoken in person. I may not know your real name or what you look like, but you're still my friend. I think a lot of my life is made up of the people who reside in it (no matter how far away you are), so I've started a small series in the style of Leigh Bardugo's 'Lives of Saints' to honour all of you.

that being said, happy birthday, @kazcoded.

SANKTA TEA, PATRON SAINT OF INSPIRATION AND THIEVES

In the summers of a town whose name has been lost to time, a festival was held every year. The villagers would string up paper lanterns and share their food, and there would be smiles and music into the early hours of the morning, everyone happy to come together and share a pleasant evening with each other.

Over the years, however, the festival began to grow smaller and smaller. The villagers no longer wanted to share their food and joy, and the paper lanterns were no longer hung from the crumbling buildings and rusted lamp posts. With every passing year, joy was slowly becoming a rare commodity; the villagers were more interested in their own gain, at the cost of everyone else’s happiness.

In the village, there lived a young girl by the name of Tea. She had only been a child when the last proper festival had been held, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of the fun she had had and the happiness she had felt. One day, a week before the day of the festival, she made an important decision.

That week, she sacrificed her sleep in the pursuit of that joy she had felt as a child. She spent her nights creeping in and out of people’s homes, taking just enough so that they would not notice what they were missing, and her days dreaming of what might happen to her. For once, she found she didn’t care about the town’s laws. She feared no punishment for her sins; no man nor God could fault a person who only wished for happiness. All that mattered to her was the sense of joy and excitement that she was sure she could bring back to the villagers, no matter the cost.

The night before the holiday, she gathered the supplies that she had pilfered from every house in the town and set to work. When the villagers awoke in the morning, ready to do their endless dance of chores and work and sleep, they were greeted with a sight that they had not seen in years. From each balcony dangled the colourful paper lanterns of their childhood, and if one was to follow them, they would find a grand table in the town square, laden with every kind of food that one could imagine.

For the first time in a long time, the villagers swapped their frowns for smiles, as they remembered those happy childhood memories from so long ago. Tea emerged from her house with the rest of them, the awe on her face not from the miracle of the festival, but from the joy that floated in the air. The walls echoed with laughter and song and the air was rich with the smell of chocolate and fine meats and wine, as each person rushed back into their homes to contribute something to the feast.

As the evening went on, the town only got happier and happier. No one questioned the miracle that had brought everyone together - no person or child was concentrating on any crime that may have been committed, but instead on the foreign feelings that bubbled in their gut and exploded into grins on their face.

Tea looked from her seat at the head of the table, a wide smile on her face, and she watched as a young child stood on a balcony above everyone, singing a beautiful song of freedom and delight. This was what she had worked so hard for. This was the festival of her childhood.

She is the patron saint of inspiration and thieves, and it is customary to leave a setting at the table of any celebration for the girl who brings joy to those with none.

The Lives Of My Saints

entry two. this is a series I am writing for any people who have had some kind of impact on my life, whether you are friends or family. it is in the style of Leigh Bardugo's book, 'The Lives of Saints'.

happy birthday, @cryptkai. I hope you have a nice day!

SANKT KEZ OF THE CAVE, PATRON SAINT OF HOBBIES AND SELFLESSNESS

Once, long ago, there lived a child who was certain they could learn every skill. They spent their time mastering every interest they could think of, and they took great pleasure from learning new things. They tucked themselves away inside a comfortable cave on the top oF a hill and they dedicated their time to mastering each and every hobby that they could dream of.

One day, many years later, they decided that they had nothing more to learn. They sat in their cave, filled with detailed tapestries and luxurious silks, the smell of delicious food mingling with the heady scent of paint. Eyes roaming around, they wondered what could possibly be left for them to learn.

They stared at the animal skin that hung at the edge of their cave and separated them from the outside world, and then shook their head, turning back to their artwork.

After a while, there was nothing else for them to do in their cave. They had admired every item they had ever created, they had eaten every meal they could cook, and they had practiced every skill they had ever learned. Once more, they stared towards the entrance to the cave, wondering what lay beyond their home.

Tentatively, they stepped over to the animal skin, cautiously sweeping it open with one hand. Outside was brighter than they were used to, the air filled with the rich smell of leaves and grass and the dirt underfoot. It was a beautiful day to start their journey to the town below, but they stood at the mouth of their cave for a long time, rooted to the spot.

They blinked at the world, and the world blinked back.

After gathering all their courage, they packed a bag with all their finest creations and journeyed to the village at the bottom of the hill. They knew that they must have lived there at some point - human children were not born of the woods - but they had lived by themself for so long that they had no memories of the place.

On the outskirts of the village, they encountered a young woman who was trying to wrap her crying baby in a threadbare towel. No matter how much the lady tried to comfort and shush her child, it just continued wailing, throwing its arms around and making her task impossible.

The woman was close to tears when they finally approached her, one of their perfectly knitted blankets in hand. “Excuse me,” they asked, offering the blanket. “But might your baby sleep in this?”

She took the blanket with wide eyes and started wrapping it around the child, who suddenly had no protests. It snuggled down into the warmth of the wool and cuddled up to its mother, finally going to sleep.

“Thank you, kind stranger!” the woman cried, holding her baby to her chest. “Tell me your name, so I may thank you properly.”

They considered the question for a moment. It had been so long since they had encountered another person that they no longer recalled the name they had gone by. “You may call me Kez,” they answered eventually, a small smile on their face.

“Well, thank you, Kez! Come into my home and meet my family so that you may not be a stranger any more, and I shall welcome you to the village properly in the morning.”

Kez allowed themselves to eat other people’s food and sleep with other people’s blankets, marvelling at the difference between the village and their cave. In the morning, the woman did exactly as she promised and introduced Kez to every person in the town that they could find, and they found themself entranced by the different personalities and troubles of each individual.

Through the course of the day, Kez’s bag started to empty. They gave their tapestry as a wedding present and their knitting needles to a child, they taught a fisher how to weave and a farmer how to shoot a bow and arrow. By the time the sun had sunk in the sky, their bag was empty and they had nothing left to give.

Kez retreated into their cave in the hill, but every year they returned to the village, to share the spoils of the many years they had spent perfecting every craft. And, in return, the villagers treated them with kindness and gratitude, offering to teach them everything they had never had the chance to learn.

It is said that Kez still lives in their cave in the woods, and if you are ever in need of help when learning a craft, they will visit you and aid you in your efforts. They are the patron saint of hobbies and selflessness.

this is a tumblr hug, pass it on to your ten favorite followers and mutuals ♡

ahhh thank you!

LINA I SAW A SNAKE TODAY it’s very important to me that everyone knows about him the group chat named him Natahniel he was Long and Thin

i would die for nathaniel

When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then send this to 10 of your favourite followers (non negotiable, positivity is cool !!!

uhh okay hang on

my ability to sleep. all these other bitches be out here like insomniacs meanwhile i'm spending 12 hours unconcious <3

my imagination bc without it none of my fics would exist probably

the fact that 10 yr old me chose leggings as my bottoms of choice and has never gone back. i may not have pockets but i am always comfy

my taste in music. other people might not like it but luckily i am not other people and i greatly enjoy jumping from ac/dc to the les mis soundtrack

my speed reading ability. it's a skill that i wish i could apply to actual books but it means i get through a lotttt of fanfic <3

Tag a quality blog, You’re it! Quality doesn’t mean that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. Send this to 15 blogs who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them. ♥️❤️💛

aw thank you so much! <3

WAIT LINA ARE YOU NOT SHORT WYM THIS IS. EARTH SHATTERING

tea my mother is 5'2 and my dad is 6'6. we had no idea when i was i was gonna stop growing and i'm just glad it happened somewhere in the middle

WHAT YOU’RE NOT SHORT?? MY LIFE IS A LIE WHAT NO YOU’RE SMOL YOU ARE SMOL

WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I'M SHORT I'M JUST A NORMAL HEIGHT YOU GUYS ARE GIVING ME AN IDENTITY CRISIS

Freeze! You're under arrest for being so lovely❤. Copy this message to 10 other blogs that you think are beautiful and deserve it 💞. Keep the game going and make others feel beautiful appreciated and important !!! 😊 <3💓

thank you so much!! <3333

lina i am BEGGING give us the son in law kaz fic please i need it in my life

i am so, so sorry this took so long! but the son in law fic you asked for is finally here and i loved writing it <333 this fic is based on this post by @clumsyyhearts, so thank you for having excellent ideas!

when is a monster not a monster?

i.

The first time Kaz Brekker heard the names Ioana and Lucijan, it was in a letter from a king.

Dear Mr Brekker, it began.

I got your letter yesterday, and I have to say, you have spectacular handwriting. Let's keep the threats and blackmail to a minimum for now, though - Ravka would be happy to assist you in reuniting two of our citizens with their child. We owe you one, anyway.

A quick look at our records show that Ioana and Lucijan Ghafa are the people you're looking for. Well, I'm assuming they are, considering they filed a missing person's report a few years ago. It seems they never stopped looking for their daughter.

I've sent a letter to be personally delivered to them by a lovely soldier from the First Army. He's a real charmer, so I'm sure they'll get in touch quickly. As soon as I know more, I'll let you know.

Please don't get killed before you can reply,

Nikolai Lantsov.

"What's that?" Inej asks from the windowsill, tossing crumbs to her birds. "Looks like the royal Ravkan seal."

"Nothing," Kaz replies, folding it up quickly and slipping it into his inside jacket pocket. "A friend owes me a favour, that's all."

Inej raises her eyebrows, but Kaz can't tell if it's because she's impressed or she can see through his lie.

"Did I tell you that I caught Madelyn skimming yesterday?" she says instead, and Kaz sighs.

"How much?" he responds, and the letter is quickly forgotten.

ii.

The first time Kaz sees Inej's parents is from a distance, when they see their daughter for the first time in three years.

Inej bounds down the hill to greet them, that huge grin that Kaz loves so much on her face, but he stays where he is. He doesn't want to intrude on their moment, of course, but if he's being honest, he's a little scared.

What would the Ghafas think of the man who had corrupted their child? What would they say when they found out that he had put a knife in her hand?

He doesn't want to know.

From his vantage point above the docks, he watches as Inej runs up to her parents. Her mother steps forwards, placing her hands on Inej’s shoulders for a moment before pulling her into a tight hug.

Kaz can’t help but smile to himself. A small part of him wasn’t sure whether he could bring himself to give Inej this gift - it would have been cruel to deny her, he knows that, but he doesn’t want to lose her already. He’s only known her for a few years, but she is already the best thing in Kaz’s life, and he isn’t known for giving up easily.

It’s not giving up, he reminds himself firmly as he watches the three of them. Giving someone their freedom is never giving up. Not when they deserve it.

Sure, he’s given Inej both a reason and a means of leaving, and he doesn’t want her to go. But Kaz Brekker is anything but stupid, and he knows his Wraith well enough to know that when she has her heart set on something, nothing and no one can stop her.

Just as he moves to leave, the three figures on the docks turn to him. Inej points him out before waving happily. He raises his hand in acknowledgement before turning back to the city, not wanting to taint their happy memory.

For the entire walk back to the Slat, though, all he can think of is the smile on Inej’s face. Happiness is in short supply in Ketterdam, but her grin never fails to light up a room, and Kaz finds his heart a little lighter than it was this morning.

Read the rest on AO3.

tag list under the cut!

@hrtbreakprincess / @tooindecisivetopickaurl / @kazcoded / @saltyfortunes / @just2bubbly / @kanejwhore / @whumping-to-conclusions / @lalalalalalalalalalalala