#this was super fun to write btw

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

���Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #AWWAWAW IM DONE #FINALLY #this was super fun to write btw #edited while I was sick in bed so if the paving’s still bad there’s not much I can do about it HDKFNSJDJF #*pacing

[onionninjasstuff]

this is part one! | next

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt draxum #villain pb&j duo #separated au #aaaaaaaa lets not talk abt the flow pacing and jokes in this my writing juice is running out #draxum having a mental breakdown and villain-ranting to himself for 4 pages straight #hes drinking all of that copium rn #im super improvising this whole thing btw im not rlly sure whats going on #but im having fun! #i hope everything is readable lol

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

#ramble after realtags yeag. shoutout to serrangelic btw suggesting the silhouettes thing bc i would have Died otherwise #pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #arting #pizzaposting #so anyway i think fake peppino has like. a general awareness that he is supposed to Be Peppino and that he was Made to do that #and likewise he does generally try to...do that. the thing he does NOT realize is hes like really goddamn bad at it #not to be mean but like...c'mon. they are pretty distinctly different kinds of guys even beyond the physiology yknow. #he's neither on-brand nor fooling anyone dsjdsjjkgfsd. BUT! #since the rest of the cast generally likes him [at least as I play it] he thinks hes doing just fine #he's like 'oh they r happy with me so i must be getting a good grade in being peppino :)' #so getting told that 'yeah you actually really suck at that but that was never the reason people liked you' #and told that by og model peppino no less--yknow THE guy he's supposed to be living up to #who's already a bit intimidating for that and who ALSO totally wrecked him TWICE in the tower #making him acutely familiar with just how formidable the guy is and how much there IS to live up to.... #it's a Moment for sure. not really a sad or hurt one though. just... contemplative. #thinking abt people liking him for being the guy he's already naturally been being even though that guy is Not Peppino #i don't think he's gonna be super broken up about realizing he has a bad grade in peppino given everything else hes got now #nor do i really think he cares enough to go like reinvent himself or whatever after the fact #he seems to b pretty clearly having fun with it already so i think he just keeps doing that #and in some cases he still has the pre-installed peppino traits/instincts like to cooka da pizza. and that's fine #is this projection. yes. but if youve been following me awhile you know most of my character writing is ghdhfdgf #gonna kinda expand on all this in the gerome one which is...one after next. itll be a bit but man. #anyway peppino will never admit to anyone and especially not himself that he's gotten a little attached to the guy. hee hoo #pep tends to be kinda surly but he certainly has his ways of showing he cares. all of which are on display here #''that thing is not my son'' says man currently watching thing's antics with the 'bemused dad' arms crossed pose. yeah ok buddy. #gus is totally onto him already but hes not gonna say anything. #if u read all this ur prize is not having to go decode fp's rot13. his lines are ''meant to be you...?'' and ''wrong question.''

[reverbtunes]

pepero with skz (1)

➤ summary : playing the pepero game with your best friend; what could go wrong?

➤ pairing : skz hyung line x gn!reader

➤ genre : fluff!!!! and some mutual pining sprinkled in there as well <3

➤ warnings : food (the pepero itself), hints of alcohol in minho’s

➤ word count : 1.2k (250-400 per member; sorry that some are a bit longer than others, i get carried away)

➤ requested !

➤ a/n : thank you so much for the request, they are always so fun to write ksdjkds your brains 🤌✨ flustered hyung line we love it 💪 i was originally supposed to write for all 8 of them, but finals start from tomorrow </3 and i didn’t want to keep anon waiting so! also didn’t want to make this too long kdsjnj the maknae line will be coming as soon as possible <3 stay hydrated!! lowercase intended !

➤ part 2 !

➤ masterlist !

bang chan !

so maybe this was a bad idea, but it might just be too late for thoughts like that. the common, casual, college party game was definitely not meant to go this far. and he was definitely not supposed to be this close to you, his best friend. the feelings had been buried and they were supposed to stay buried. but now, as he looked at you with the chocolate stick hanging out of your mouth, waiting for him to bite the other end, he could practically feel his years-long crush bubbling back up. 

“channie? you still there?” you asked teasingly, snapping him out of his nervous daze.

he slowly leaned forward and bit the end of the pepero, and started inching closer to you, taking gradual, small bites. he glanced at your lips and immediately looked back at the stick, flustered by the slight smirk on your face as you bit through your end. at this point, your lips were so close to each other that he could feel your cool breath mingling with his. 

just as he was going to break it, you muttered, “we’ve come this far, don’t back out now.”

hearing your comment, chan could practically feel his brain short circuit. all common sense flying out the window, he planted his lips on yours, breaking the pepero mid-kiss. he could hear his friends cheering around the both of you, but it all faded into the background when you kissed him back. he smiled into the kiss, not being able to hide his ecstasy as you giggled against his lips.

the kiss was short and sweet, just like your pepero; be prepared for many more to come.

lee know !

minho knew he was doing something wrong when he agreed to come to one of your friends’ parties. he knew it when he drank his fifth shot. he knew it when people started offering to play games; starting off safe with pictionary, charades and escalating to spin the bottle. he was on a roll that night, winning almost every game, and even managing to avoid kissing anyone for spin the bottle.

but lucky streaks had to end eventually.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. he really, really liked you. everything about you, from your pretty eyes, to your cute nose, to your dazzling smile. the way you could make his day better just by existing; with a simple text or call. the way you remembered every little detail about him.

he was biding his time with his confession, wanting to make sure that you liked him too before making any sort of move. he wanted to do it right. 

but here he was, in front of you, sitting cross-legged with a pepero stick in his mouth, biting along his end as you bit yours. oh yeah, he sobered up real quick, with you so close to him, nibbling on until only a tiny piece of chocolate was left between you two, your lips brushing his.

abruptly breaking the stick, you leaned in and whispered in minho’s ear, “friday at 5, our cafe?” 

his head shot in your direction, meeting your eyes that had a glint of mischief and hope in them. a smile slowly spread across his face and he replied warmly, “it’s a date.”

you grinned. that’s my minho. 

changbin !

how do you always find yourself in these situations? it isn’t that hard to understand - changbin is your best friend. he respects and loves you as a best friend. oh, you have feelings for him? suck it up, buttercup, they can’t ruin your friendship.

but, god, was it hard to ignore your crush when changbin invites you to the gym, when he cooks for you, when he comforts you on your bad days, and laughs with you on your good ones. yes, you were down bad, and fairly so.

maybe it was wishful thinking to hope that changbin would be your friends-to-lovers, your one and only, yours.

but you were certainly not thinking when you agreed to play truth or dare with your friends on valentine’s day brunch, knowing very well they’d been waiting for you and changbin to get together for the longest time.

“alright! y/n, we dare you to grab a pepero and do the challenge with changbin!”

certainly not thinking.

after many protests from both sides, you and changbin finally agreed to do the challenge, in exchange for ice cream later. you sat opposite one another, your elbows resting on the table, as one hand found its way to changbin’s, seeking for comfort. in the blink of an eye, changbin took a huge bite of the stick and landed his lips straight on yours.

your eyes widened in shock. before you could even react, your “best friend” pulled away and looked at you, mistaking your frozen state as rejection.

“i am so sorry y/n, i didn’t mean to-” changbin started before you pulled him forward by his collar and kissed him, one hand clutching his shirt, while the other was still intertwined with his. your friends cheered, shouts of “finally!” and “it was about time!” falling on your ears. 

maybe valentine’s day miracles are real.

hyunjin !

hyunjin just knew he looked like a boiled tomato, shriveled up and red. burning red. he did not know how he managed to keep his cool when you hugged him, when you pouted as he teased you, when you called him at three in the morning for a drive. the universe tested him everyday, but he managed just fine; just so he could see that smile of yours the next day. 

but pepero was just pushing it. he physically could not be that close to you and be normal about it. he just couldn’t.

but i can’t back out either that’ll seem lame??? hyunjin thought.

y/n has literally seen you cry over dog pictures, i think we’ve gotten past ‘seeming lame’. another voice in his head said.

he was a hopeless romantic and this was his moment. then why was he so nervous?

“hyunjin? we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable, it’s just a game,” you said worriedly, going to put the chocolate back in its packet, before hyunjin’s hand shot out and stopped you.

“no, um,” he paused a little, taking a deep breath, “it’s okay, it’ll be fun!”

he hoped he gave off an excited vibe, and not a ‘terrified for my life’ one. 

he bit one end of the stick, as you started nibbling the other, going slowly to give him time if he wanted to back out. he knew what you were doing, and his love for you shot up; more than he could have ever imagined. he knew if he didn’t take advantage of this opportunity, he wouldn’t ever make a move on you.

the closer you got, the more sweaty his hands became, the more his heart raced. you stopped just when there was a small piece of chocolate left, enough that hyunjin could bite more, but he’d risk kissing you. 

composing himself, hyunjin took the bite. his lips barely touched yours, a feather-light kiss, so delicate that you wouldn’t have even felt it, if you hadn’t been aware of every centimetre of your body when your best friend was around. 

it was a kiss of uncertainty, of foreign lands, of unknown concepts, but somehow you knew. you knew in the way hyunjin grasped at your hand when he pulled away; you knew that you would explore these foreign lands together. you weren’t alone.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #bang chan fluff #lee know fluff #changbin fluff #hyunjin fluff #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #thats it thats all i got #these were super fun to write btw i love shy!skz #the header does not match the theme at all send help

[skitskatdacat63]

"To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest." - Prince Fernando of Asturias

+ Seb not getting what he ordered

+ the usual

Hello yes, look! It's baby Renault Fernando, isn't he so cute??? Who wouldn't want to force him into an arranged marriage, like cmon man be real. Here is the progress as usual, as well as his suit without the design, cause I'm pretty proud of it just blank even!

Okay so this is pure Fernando, innocent Fernando, before he had his apirations ripped way from him. Well not fully ripped away tbf, because that's the crux of his character: is it more humiliating to never succeed or to only succeed because someone handed it to you with concessions? I guess that's up for him to decide though ;;;

The thing I love about this drawing and young Fernando in general is how much easier it is to see his and Seb's similarities. Look how similar they look! Seb is just a bit more evil.

I think that's a big part as to why his feelings about Seb are so complicated. He both loves and hates how similar they are. From an egotistical point, he can appreciate and respect the familiar traits in Seb, the hunger, the exuberance, the pride, the ego. But also we hate seeing our own traits in other people, it's almost like turning a mirror on your worst traits and suddenly being able to see yourself from a new perspective. The biggest point here though is that Fernando turns that resentment onto Seb, as a way to clamp down on self hatred.

He becomes more bitter and resentful as he grows older, and loses a lot of his whimsy and joy. So it hurts him to see Seb, who in addition to getting everything he's ever wanted, also retain his whimsy. He, wrongly, just sees it as something that had to happen in order for him to grow up fully. It's more of a survival tactic, it started becoming unbefitting for him to have that level of unfounded confidence. That's the main reason he sees Seb as childish, immature and undeserving. He hasn't fully grown out of his capacity for whimsy and joy, and thus is below Fernando.

Well that was depressing oops! As the chibi art represents, this is probably a painting Seb got sent in the early days of planning their marriage. This is the Fernando who is still prideful, the Fernando who is still confident, the Fernando Seb vaguely remembers meeting his youth. Seeing this definitely pushes him even further towards the marriage(though tbf it's not like he even has a choice either.) Though when the time to actually start courting comes around, Fernando looks very uh different. This is both a joke about how different Fernando was in his first renault stint vs his second. But also I think he does show up very moody and disheveled, as a sort of last chance way to try and turn everyone on Seb's side, including Seb, off from the marriage. However, it's pretty much a done deal by that point.

Seb is uh, definitely confused, but I think he would be drawn to Fernando regardless. Actually, this might make Fernando even more appealing. Seb gets to push him all the time, try to break down his walls and get a glimpse at the real Fernando, if even just for a moment. Seb wishes he had more that just a blurry, vague recollection of Fernando at his peak confidence. Fernando definitely grows into something resembling his past self, after recovering from all the hurt, but there's just something about youthful exuberance that can't really be fully replicated.

Okay so about the quote. I went with Don Quixote this time instead of the typical Napoleon, because I thought it'd be funny. Fernando picks up the book at some point during his youth, and it inspires him a lot. He doesn't really see the satire in it, and comes to really admire Don Quixote's mentality, he's like "wow he never gives up! That's so admirable!" It definitely helps him through dark times to aspire to never give up no matter what. Though later Seb definitely rags on him for not knowing it was satire, and Fernando is like "wh-what do you mean satire?" But he's mentally strong enough atp for it to not cause his whole worldview collapse. About the quote specifically, there's definitely some part of him, even when young, that knows his aspirations are borderline impossible. I wonder if that part of him feels weirdly safe and comforted about the marriage. Yes, it's not ideal, but it's safe and secure. He gets what he wants, and there's no chance of anyone taking it away from him, no matter what.

I think his title would be Prince of Asturias? It was either that or duke, and I think prince fits him bettee(Machiavelli reference?) That title is currently the title for the heir to the Spanish throne. In this time period, it's also commonly used for the heir, but for Fernando it's a bit unsure. Like in real life, he's not directly the offspring, but he's still the most obvious choice for heir. But there's still enough room for Seb and his house to try to vie for the throne themselves, so it makes it all complicated.

#*btw that quote is from don quixote just so thats clear. creds to Cervantes lmfao. i explained in the read more why ! #hahahaha all my lore and tags and everything got deleted so i had to rewrite this all. original post you will live on fondly in my memories #^ i was half asleep writing it the 2nd time so i hope its still good? #its always going to be inferior to me but ig it doesnt rly matter bcs im the only one who actually got to read it ha #anyways super happy with this ahhhh!!! #it was so much fun to draw. i got to focus more on the fashion and its great as well bcs renault's colors are fire #im also glad to draw him bcs i feel like ive neglected hima bit compared to the others! its been a fair bit since ive drawn him #i cant remember what else i said here haha so ill just say hope ya like! #im still happy with the characterization notes and lore in the read more so def read it still!! #and as always please inquire if you have any thoughts or question abt the au #fernando alonso #f1 #formula 1 #<- it gets more and more absurd every drawing to tag this but ah tradition ig #catie.art #boy king au #vettonso

[mstrchu]

is nezha eternally 12?

yeah he is he told me himself in a t&t parking lot

12 is an arbitrary number. if you're looking for a source that literally says the exact phrase "nezha is eternally 12" you're uhh probably not going to find one. you're also probably not going to find a source that outright states that he grew into an adult. i think the reason 12 has become a popular number is because it sort of straddles that point between true childhood and adolescence, but again, it's arbitrary.

in fsyy, nezha is 7 when the whole thing with ao bing and returning his flesh and bones to his parents happens, which as far as I'm aware is the last time that an exact age is given for him in that particular novel. fsyy is also not the end all be all of "canon", but it did have significant implications for both practiced religion and literature (1, ch.5). sangren also notes that 7 being the age given is important.

i've only read about half of jttw so far, but don't think any physical or chronological age is stated for him, except that sun wukong calls him "小哥" (little guy/young man/etc.) when they first meet lol.

(a couple of nezhas from this copy of fsyy)

but the exact number of 12 isn't the point behind the statement. imo the idea behind the sentiment is that nezha is culturally perceived as a child. he is metaphorically and literally associated with and representative of the traits and struggles of childhood. he is "the most popular and classic cultural image of child personification in the literature of China" (2). the portrayal of the child - what traits they embody, which authorities they subvert, how their agency develops and affects the world around them - will change with the sociopolitical environment of the country, and portrayals of nezha have always changed along with it, for the reason that his image is inextricable from that of a child's (3, 4). he is a representation, reflection, and symbolization of the youth.

(some media puts more emphasis than this on others, i.e. the songs used for the '03 cartoon opening and closing, which really emphasize him being little, being young (少年), and being the same age the presumably child singer (他的年纪跟我一般大) lol)

(this paper looks at the appearance of nezha in various medias for the past ~100 years, including adult portrayals, although it does make the assumption that adult actor = adult character and girl actor = girl character which is.. not really correct imo… also it includes 1979 nezha naohai as part of its 'adult image' era which is ????? so i would take its conclusions with a grain of salt and just look at its descriptions.)

you're also going to get a different answer if you look at it from a more religious viewpoint. as far as i know, he has religious iconography as both a child and as an adult, but his appearance is much more varied and doesn't necessarily have the same collective set of easily recognizable traits. here are some posts with artwork and statues of nezha (interspersed with some of hong hai'er): x y z.

however, the thing is that i don't think many modern adaptations can make the claim that they drew from a religious iconography basis more than they drew from the most popular cultural image of nezha. i then wish they would be more cognizant of the fact that, in the source from which they drew, nezha is most widely recognized as a kid, and treat that with respect.

obviously nezha is not always portrayed as a child. nezha is not always anything, there are just recurring visual and thematic elements that make him a cohesive and recognizable figure, i.e. the twin buns, the iconic weapons, the lotus imagery. being a child or a youth is also one of these things, and its significance, imo, is well analysed and documented.

at the end of the day this answer is only so long-winded because it's the internet. go text your parents and ask them how old they think nezha is.

#nezha #i do think of him as a kid #i am not an Adult Nezha Adaptation hater btw.. i just want to prove that 1. nezha is widely perceived as a child and/or youth #and 2. this image is significant culturally and thematically #i am the silly jokes guy but writing this was kind of fun.. #i think it's a little weird if you're like super fixated on either proving or disproving the exact number of 12 #i also think it's completely reasonable for people who grew up with nezha to be uncomfortable with certain treatments of him #ask

[pelcrow]

my oc maxanthus tries to pretend he's not villainous and is just a guy who's out to do what's best everyone but it's just like.... my guy... you call yourself maxanthus and have meticulously straightened silver hair, you're so evil

"i'm not a bad guy!"

looks like this:

#personal #tbd #favorite past time is roasting my own ocs and their designs #oh really? you're the head of an evil organization? im fucking shocked /s #but in all seriousness max is super fun to write and draw #he's so cocky and unserious #his actual name is Maxwell btw but he thought it wasn't edgy enough to be intimidating #which i think is just a skill issue on his part

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Ari :(( thinking about suguru again I fear,, when am I not,, thats not the point,, but thinking about you getting an injury maybe breaking an arm or something and he’s so worried. Doesn’t want his baby hurt :(( frets and freaks out like not really freaks out cause I think he’d be calm but he cares. Wants to know how it happened and if you’re in pain. If someone else caused it he’s out to kill. You ask him to sign your cast and he almost sobs. Doesn’t let you lift a finger. He never lets you lift a finger but even more so now. Helps you shower or take a bath and is just so careful. Loves to wash your hair for you. Puts in effort too to learn how you do your hair. Helps you get dressed even if you’re like I can do that >:(( cause he doesn’t want you to overwork yourself. Helps you carry things. If you came to him crying when it happened his poor heart would shatter. Getting a cast to match his eyes :((. He wouldn’t like that you’re hurt but I think he’d like taking care of you more. Like he understands you wanting to do things for yourself and thats why he never pushed before but now he has a reason to push. Complaining about how you look with the cast thinking it makes you look ugly or something and he’s instantly like. Take that back. Take it back. Cause you’re cute always don’t you see? He just wants to nurse you back to health. He loves you so much.

:((((((( REMMMMMM R U GENUINELY OUT TO GET ME WTF ……… this made me so sniffly i love him so bad 💔💔 (this got long also oops)…

no bc rem as literally always we’re holding hands and our brains are syncing …. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve daydreamed abt this exact scenario LIKE IT’S SOOOO PERFECT FOR HIM and you literally described it so well i wanna cry …. there’s fluff potential and there’s angst potential but more than anything it’s just a whole bunch of hurt/comfort and you alr know what that trope does to me 😔😔

but gosh….. he would just be. so so worried and doting :(((((( and he would feel so guilty :(((((((( like no matter how you got the injury i feel like he would blame himself for it. for not being there or not watching over you enough. even if you tell him that it wasn’t his fault…… and then he overcompensates by coddling you even more than usual…… T—T ”doesn’t want his baby hurt” hhhhhh sugu viewing his s/o as his baby specifically makes me lose it like he’s sooo serious abt being your caretaker….. it’s his job to protect you and he failed……. :((( poor baby would beat himself up over it so much 💔💔

frets and freaks out like not really freaks out cause I think he’d be calm but he cares. Wants to know how it happened and if you’re in pain. If someone else caused it he’s out to kill. You ask him to sign your cast and he almost sobs. (…) If you came to him crying when it happened his poor heart would shatter.

☹️☹️☹️☹️ OUR BABYYYYY no bc i think he would absolutely panic but he’d do it silently…. you’re so right rem………. you’re sniffling and trying to explain what happened and he’s trying not to push you but he’s just so so worried and he needs to know what’s going on to feel okay again :((( needs to know what happened so he can figure out how to proceed. bc his chest just feels so tight and he knows it’s not going away until you’re smiling again.. sob.

AND OH BOYYYY if someone else caused it……………. yeahhh he’s out for Blood i fear. even if it was an accident i think he would hold everyone except for you accountable. your friend convinced you to pull a risky stunt? he subtly tries to steer you away from their company (if you stay friends he’s civil but prefers not to interact with them at all/only smiles at them coldly if he has to). you fell while rock climbing bc the safety gear wasn’t tight enough? he’s calling everyone involved just to make sure you get compensated. goes full karen mode honestly like he is speaking to the manager today. the ceo. the Man in Charge. and god forbid if someone like.. directly hurt you…… idk if suguru is the type to beat them up for it (he’s 100% tempted though) but at the very least he’s making sure they never get close to you again. files a restraining order and everything. obviously sues them too. i feel like he would work with law in a no curses au so it just makes sense to me yk??

WAIT ALSO asking him to sign your cast :(((( that’s so CUTE and him almost sobbing….. rem……. i love him so much my heart hurts. you ask him to do it all smiley and happy and he gives you a smile in return but it’s just a little wobbly. writes his signature while you’re all :33 but then you look up and his eyes are glassy…. and if you point it out he just sniffles and apologizes…… 🥺🥺🥺 he’s a baby. our baby.

Doesn’t let you lift a finger. He never lets you lift a finger but even more so now. Helps you shower or take a bath and is just so careful. Loves to wash your hair for you. Puts in effort too to learn how you do your hair. Helps you get dressed even if you’re like I can do that >:(( cause he doesn’t want you to overwork yourself.

T—T remmmm….. you’re gonna be the death of me i swear like these hcs are all SO cute. he’s the only Man ever. ohhh he would be so so gentle like it’s actually insane :(((( cradles you in the bath….. smiles when you get all relaxed and sleepy but then he glances down at your arm again and goes all :c bc he just hates this so much. not taking care of you but just. knowing that you’re in pain….. i think he feels very intense physical discomfort so he just tries not to think about it and puts his all into tending to you instead. wraps you up in a fluffy towel and dries your hair and clothes you in his big cozy hoodie.

i think it could get a little frustrating bc he really would straight up baby you. which i would eat up personally but it’d also be a little overwhelming. he doesn’t give you much of a choice though bc he’s so intent on making his baby feel better :((

aaaa now i’m just imagining you getting a little hissy at him…. bc he’s coddling you to the point where maybe you feel a little disrespected? like he just insists on feeding you or whatever and it’s cute at first but then it’s like…. i have hands. but anyway i think it would break his heart if you got mad at him :((( he doesn’t want to make you feel incompetent but if he’s not taking care of you constantly he feels a little like his heart is about to burst….. sigh. i just feel like this would be hurt/comfort from both sides tbh 💔

He wouldn’t like that you’re hurt but I think he’d like taking care of you more. Like he understands you wanting to do things for yourself and thats why he never pushed before but now he has a reason to push.

AAAA AND THIS!!!!!! SOOOO TRUE SO REAL he’d definitely feel guilty and he’d hate seeing you hurt but i agree….. he would absolutely love a chance to pamper you. once he gets over the initial shock and panic and discomfort and you’re feeling better i think he’s almost kinda smug abt it . bc now he has an excuse to carry you around and help you with putting on your shoes and … idk i think he would just feel so useful and needed. he feels guilty abt being pleased bc you’re in pain :(( but like… a part of him is for sure jumping with joy at the chance to spoil you the way he wants to.

Complaining about how you look with the cast thinking it makes you look ugly or something and he’s instantly like. Take that back. Take it back. Cause you’re cute always don’t you see? He just wants to nurse you back to health. He loves you so much.

😥😥😥😥😥😥 i cried real tears. i know i’m just picking out literally every single part of your ask atp but it rlly did make me insane ok ……. ”take that back. take it back.” I SCREAMEDDD YOU GET HIM LIKE NO ONE ELSE DID YOU KNOW THAT…… he’s SO genuinely offended on your behalf he’s like how DARE you say that about my baby >:(( and it’s like. suguru i AM your baby. but he doesn’t care at all he refuses to hear you out. just reassuring all around!!! ”cause you’re cute always don’t you see?” T—T he loves you so fervently… you’re the cutest person in the world to him….. he’s so Good. sigh.

so anyways this did something to me tysm for the food rem my dearest <333 gonna daydream abt this forever and ever you’re so sweet for sharing this with me it’s like we’re having a sugu meal together :33 i love hurt/comfort w him more than anything else on the planet hhhhh….

#THANK U FOR STOPPING BY i always jump w joy when i see u in my inbox bc i knowwww u always have the tastiest thoughts … #AND SO REAL BTW i’m also thinking abt him constantly <33 i don’t think we’ll ever be free of him tbh…. #aaaa it’d be so fun to write a drabble abt this at some point :((( i need more sugu hurt/comfort in my life #hehe ilysm rem!!! ur sugu thoughts will always be my favorite :33 #i hope you’re having a super duper lovely day/night btw !! and that spring is treating u kindly!!!! 🌷☀️ #ask tag ✩ #rem !! ✩

[imikhailo]

(first time doing something like this 🙈)

prompt: you never asked @galladrabbles @arrowflier

——————————

mickey groans getting up off the floor to open the door.

when he opens the door he's faced with the most gorgeous redhead he has ever seen. 

he rolls his eyes.

the redhead smirks. "Hey, Mick."

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I came to pay you a visit."

"A visit uh? 

"A visit means that you just passing by. and also means you gonna leave'." again, mickey thinks

"Are you going to invite me in or not?"

a sigh. mickey gives up. "Do you want to come in and have a beer?"

"I Thought you’d never ask." the redhead responds with a big dork smile

——————————

#HEY 106 WORDS??? I almost got it #please let me know what you think #this could perhaps be part of a story that I want to create but I don't have that much courage to write it bc you know don't have the skill #but I'm going to try my hand at galladrables from time to time to see if I can improve little by little at least #this was super fun btw ☺ #galladrabbles #gallavich #mag writes #<- ???? idk #fic rec

[good-beanswrites]

Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖

Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!

Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.

Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.

“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”

He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.

On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.

(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)

He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.

“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.

“How are you holding up?”

Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.

Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.

“I’m still working on it. These things take time.” 

“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.” 

“Your interrogation… I know.”

Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?” 

Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.

“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”

“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”

“...Everything.” 

Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.

Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.

“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”

“You can’t be so sure. The–”

“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?

“I would.”

Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it. 

“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”

Minato cracked a smile. 

“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”

Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”

“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?” 

Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing. 

“Well, it should be impossible. But…”

They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato. 

“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”

“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”

Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.

“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”

“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’

“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”

“The fuck does that mean?” 

“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.” 

Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him. 

“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”

“As if you could stop me!”

He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.

---

After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.

Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax. 

The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people. 

Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance. 

He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past. 

“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”

He inhaled sharply.

It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations. 

Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.

His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.

Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him. 

“You did it. My god, you did it.”

He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears. 

For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest. 

Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.

Talk about impossible. 

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #ahhh this was so much fun!!! #i dont usually do oc stuff but i really hope i did minato justice ;-; hes really cool!! #thank you for your answer to my questions btw -- i really appreciated the detail! it was super helpful 👍 #sorry its not like fluffy valentines-y? but i still hope its sweet... the ending made me so happy to write :3 #i loved the whole concept! #as someone with a non-prisoner non-warden milgram oc i was so interested in his role in the story 👀 i think thats so clever and cool! #i wanted to try my hand at this prompt but i really loved the other one too omg 🏳️‍⚧️🥺 #and thank you sm for putting on this event!! ive seen so many people getting really excited about their gifts #so many of my milgram pals had an awesome time working on theirs - we appreciate you running it :) #drabbles

[oriionz]

silly lego guys

#ninjago #mydoodles #zane and cole bc i think u guys may have noticed by now i like them a lot #they're both arospec and making fun of romance shows #kinda like the origin of zane finding romance movies hilarious #very early in them knowing each other #sorry for the weird cropping btw im not super confident in writing dialogue

[hum--hallelujah]

don't want to kill time like it doesn't matter - 3.5k words, (platonic) funkobra hurt/comfort

---

Ghoul is actually younger than Kobra. They always forget it though.

At least, they usually do.

Kobra's stopped shooting upright and reaching for his blaster whenever someone wakes him up at night. Stopped two years ago, honestly, when him and Ghoul started sharing a room. That was a collective decision that is very much not discussed. It left the old office as a perfect room for the Girl, in the end. Between Ghoulie and Girlie, the former of whom has wild, sleepless tendencies and the latter liking to scramble her way into bed with somebody else every other night of the week, Kobra's knee-jerk reaction has become more of a lack of reaction.

"Yo," hisses a pitchy voice. It's dead daylight, the heat of the day. This is the time of the year when you sleep while the sun's up, wait until the darkness falls to do anything or else it's too miserable or too dangerous. "Kobes."

Kobra utters a verbose "Hrrmngg?" and rolls over. He cracks an eye open to see Ghoul standing at the end of his bed. If it hadn't been light out, he'd be doing a good job of living up to his name. His hands are shaking, but when aren't they?

"You good, man?" Kobra asks groggily. He's half awake, half asleep, drifting in between the two states of being. Ghoul is shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. It makes the floor creak. It makes him look even smaller than he is. "Ghoulie?" He mumbles again when he gets no reply.

Ghoul makes a noncommittal half-whispered sound. "Wanna go for a joyride?" He asks instead of an answer.

Kobra blinks himself more fully awake and pushes up on one elbow. "Mirage or the 'Am?"

Ghoulie shrugs. Won't meet his eyes. Oh shit, that's not good. Something's got him worked up. It's too late for this. This is why they share a room now. They didn't used to, but Kobra refuses to let him sleep alone anymore. Kobra knows how he got that wicked scar that runs from the corner of his mouth nearly to his eye.

"Either," Ghoul says. "Doesn't matter much to me."

"Mirage," Kobra decides. He'll never say no to a late-night joyride. Not this kind. Party'll have his neck for sneaking out on the bike without letting anyone know, but the 'Am is too conspicuous when strange crews are out and from the look of him, riding double on the motorcycle will be good for Ghoul.

It's still too hot to be out. But going for a spin won't take too much exertion, getting to someplace with shade, so long as it's away from here, won't take too long. Ghoul's gonna get sunscorched. Maybe that's the point. While Kobra covers up with his jacket, Ghoul is still in the loose, half-covering clothes he sleeps in.

The sun glints painfully off the sand when they climb quietly out the window. No reason trying to get past Party when they've got an exit right here. Ghoul clambers out first with a probably accidental but surprisingly graceful roll and then flinches, violently, when Kobra jacket catches on what's left of the glass in the window and he tumbles haphazardly to the ground. They both hold still for a long dozen seconds, Kobra staring at the diner wall and straining to tell if anyone heard them, and Ghoul staring at Kobra and shaking.

When Party doesn't come along, eyes glinting with annoyed amusement, and yell at them for sneaking out, Kobra sits up and checks the hem of his jacket where it caught on the sharp edge. "Great," he mutters when he sees the tear in the lining. He'll have to sew that back together later. "Ghoul, you good?"

Ghoul shrugs and stands up. "Aren't I always?"

"No."

They stare at each other for a few seconds while Kobra rubs his palms together to clear the sand off them and reaches into his pocket for his gloves. "You're wearing a helmet," he says flatly.

Ghoul rolls his eyes and sneers. It crinkles the scar running up his face. "No way."

"Fine." Kobra doesn't push. Half the time he doesn't even wear his helmet. He's the driver. He'll keep them safe. It was worth a try, though. "Come on."

The heavy bay door of the garage makes too much noise to open without being caught. They slip in the side door and Kobra brings Mirage carefully back through it. He wears a helmet this time. Ghoul stands and waits, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet, while Kobra starts the bike and, out of habit, does a couple checks.

"You ready?" Kobra says, with the visor of his helmet flipped up.

Ghoul grins, but it's lacking in heart. So often, Kobra thinks he's not all there. So often, Kobra thinks this is his best friend. "Born that way," he replies.

"Come on then," Kobra says and nods for Ghoul to get on the bike with him. "Hey, hey. Hey, Ghoulie-" he says, when Ghoul is standing right at his shoulder, about to throw a leg over Mirage and climb on. "You okay?" He asks again, because he needs to know how safe any of this is.

Ghoul doesn't respond. Just settles himself behind Kobra and wraps his arms, tight, around Kobra's middle. Kobra stays there a second, until he's sure Ghoul's grip is solid, so that he can feel Ghoul breathing against his back, before he kicks off. He doesn't care if Party and Jet wake up now, they won't catch them. The bike's tires kick up a fountain of sand as he spins a loop, leaning into the turn until Mirage tilts close enough to the ground that Kobra could touch the sand if he reached out. Ghoul asked for a joyride. This is that.

"What the hell, man?!" Ghoul yells over Kobra's shoulder, muffled by the engine noise and his helmet. Kobra feels Ghoul's hands grab at the fabric of his shirt as he pulls around the first turn, bringing them around the back of a sand dune at full speed.

"Trust me?" Kobra shouts back. He's getting into it now, relaxing into each wide, showy swerve and fishtail. He slows down just a bit when he can feel Ghoul's fingernails start to bite into his skin. It makes him edgy when Ghoul is like this.

Ghoul sniffs sharply. "Well, yeah, but I've seen you crash out enough times at the track-"

"Aw, shut up," Kobra snaps back, without venom. Ghoul's his mechanic. He's seen his best wins and worst losses. "Where you wanna go?" He asks, after a few random turns, just drifting around in the sand. Ghoul is quiet. Kobra reaches back with one hand and smacks him on the leg after awhile. "Ghoulie, where we goin'?"

"I'm thinki-" Ghoul cuts himself off and when he speaks again his voice is flat and so quiet Kobra has to strain to hear him. "Turn right up here."

There's the remains of a road cutting across their path and Kobra hops Mirage up onto it, swings right and follows the pavement. Ghoul's grip around his chest has loosened, but Kobra can feel the fast, shallow rhythm of his breathing and the shaking of his hands even still. The road goes on for ages, long enough that it starts to feel infinite. This must have been a highway, back before the wars and BL/ind. At some point, Ghoul leans forward and puts his forehead against the back of Kobra's neck. Kobra can feel him pressed just below where his helmet sits.

"Get off at this turn," Ghoul mumbles suddenly, but not soon enough because Kobra completely overshoots the exit. He flips around the empty lanes of the highway, admittedly showing off mostly just to make himself feel better.

The group of buildings along the former highway off-ramp isn't really a ghost town. It's a cluster of old stores and restaurants, like the diner but mass produced, and down at the end is an ancient truck stop and gas station. Kobra slows the bike to a crawl as they drive down the street, struck with an eerie sense of deja vu. He's been here before. They both have.

He pulls over and stops in the middle of the road, beside what used to be a coffee store. Coffee is usually made in the form of compressed, dried out shots now, called Motor Juice in the Zones when rehydrated. They don't have coffeeshops in the City. They have prescriptions.

Ghoul is off the bike and Kobra's back suddenly cold even under the heat of the sun before Mirage even comes to a full stop. "Ghoul-" Kobra snaps, angry for reasons he can't even say and unsettled in ways he doesn't want to. This is a ghost town. Just not in the normal way. "Ghoul. What are you-"

But Ghoul is walking away, his back to Kobra and the bike as he moves toward the gas station as if it's a magnet and he's the blade of a knife, trembling so hard with the pull that it might break. Kobra hesitates, then swings his leg over Mirage and bumps out the kickstand. Ghoul is standing stock still, or as still as he can, on the faded pavement of the gas station parking lot. Kobra's glad it's faded. He doesn't want to see the bloodstains.

Ghoul looks small as he approaches, absolutely miniscule. He's got his arms wrapped tight around himself and Kobra can hear the harshness of his breathing even from several strides away. He doesn't want to get too close too fast. Ghoul's enough like a wild animal that it could turn out badly, and Kobra for once really doesn't want to fight him today. Not out here, at least.

They're within two years of each other, Kobra and Ghoul. They usually forget they're not the same age. But right now Ghoul looks so small and so, so young and Kobra doesn't know what to do.

"Gh- Ghoul. Ghoulie." Kobra calls carefully, stumbling over his tongue. He clamps his teeth together, takes a deep breath. "Ghoul."

Ghoul doesn't turn, doesn't look away from the door into the gas station he'd been found in, back when Kobra and Poison and Jet were a crew of three and Ghoul'd been even more feral than he is now. The gas station where Ghoul watched his entire family die and he was helpless to do anything about it. He still thinks he hadn't done enough. Kobra knows that. Ghoul always thinks he didn't do enough. That one kid with a blaster and wild eyes could take down a full squad of Dracs and two Crows.

Kobra doesn't know how to tell him that if he'd tried, he would be dead too. Kobra doesn't know how to tell him he's glad he didn't. When it comes down to it most, Kobra finds he can't speak.

"Ghoulie," he says again. "Hey. Hey." He moves closer, pulls off the helmet he'd almost forgotten he still has on. "Ghoul," he tries, one more time, as gently as he knows how even though it's not that gentle. He's never been good at this. Some of the scars scattered across Ghoul's body are from him. But Kobra had stitched up Ghoul's face and he's not going to give up now.

Ghoul finally turns and Kobra breathes a sigh of relief. Just a response. Proof of life even though he's still standing. And then Ghoul steps toward him and suddenly he's right there, shaking but otherwise just as eerily still as this entire place, like he's trapped in frozen time just like the rest of it, and he collides with Kobra's chest in a way that's both surprising and yet entirely expected.

"Oh." Kobra drops his helmet, dangling from one hand, and his arms hover uncertainly in the air for a moment before he carefully closes them around Ghoul. "Oh. Okay. Okay." He says quietly, startled, but not really. He'd felt the way Ghoul was holding onto him as they rode Mirage all the way out here.

Ghoul unfolds his arms from around himself and grabs onto the unzipped sides of Kobra's jacket. He doesn't cry, not out loud at least. He's just shaking, so much, and so, so small. Kobra's not good with words. He's even worse with them under pressure. Anything Jet or Party could say to make it better, that kind of stuff gets stuck on his tongue when Kobra tries to say it. So he doesn't. He just holds on.

"You plan on coming here?" Kobra asks eventually, even though he has a feeling the answer is no. Unless it's an engine or a bomb, Ghoul never really plans on much. Ghoul shakes his head, hair scrubbing against Kobra's shoulder and neck where his head's pressed. "You wanna... y'wanna go inside?" He asks then, against his better judgment. But then again, he's never been known for that, has he.

Ghoul tenses, but it momentarily stops the shaking. "Can we?"

Kobra huffs. "Nobody stoppin' us, and even if there were, we'd do it anyway, wouldn't we?"

Ghoul pries his fingers from their hold on Kobra's jacket and turns back toward the station. "Should we?"

"Dunno." Part of him thinks it might help. Part of him remembers exactly what happened the last time they were here. It's the Killjoy way to call death ghosting. It means some part of you lives on even when you're gone. There's a lot of ghosts in this pavement. "It's your-"

He can't think of what word goes there. Choice. Past. Grief. Place. So he stops talking. He shrugs, bends to pick up his helmet. "I can." He sucks a breath through his teeth. He's going to say it again. "I can... I can go with you. If you," he shrugs one shoulder again. "If you, uh, want to. I'm not- I'm not trying to force you," he adds, like it needs to be said. "It's your... yours."

Because that's all that really can be said. This place, the place that made Fun Ghoul what he is. The journey, however brief, that brought them here. Even, kinda, Kobra himself. It's all for Ghoul, here and now. Kobra drove, but he's just along for the ride. Weird how that happens.

Ghoul steps toward the station. Magnetism, again. And Kobra follows, because how could he not. He feels sick at the though of letting his friend go in that place alone.

The doors are gone. Shot out years ago. It looks to Kobra exactly as it did back then, but Ghoul probably remembers better. There are shelves toppled and glass and plastic broken all over the floor. Whatever hasn't been scavenged is broken and shattered. Ghoul walks toward the back of the store, the corner that's not so much a mess. Kobra stays back a bit, trying to give his friend space.

It's where they found Ghoul. Or, where Pois had found him. Ghoul was half in shock, terrified and scarred and fighting, and Party was the first one of their then three-strong group to notice the dark shape watching them hopelessly trawl the carnage for any survivors. It took Pois physically restraining the much smaller kid to keep Ghoul from going for all of their throats.

Kobra has a lot of bad memories of Ghoul. None are as bad as remembering the way he'd screamed when they first met.

"Y'okay?" Kobra asks after a while.

Ghoul has his moments. They all do. Sometimes, you wake up bad in the night and it's hard to pick yourself up. Sometimes you just gotta hit the bottom before you even can. But Ghoul's a fighter. "Yeah," he says, walking back and forth between fallen shelves once stocked with food and stupid trinkets. He crouches to pick up the shattered remnants of something once made of colorful glass and when he looks back over his shoulder at Kobra, he doesn't seem quite as small.

"'M sorry," Kobra mumbles, not knowing what to say now. Somehow, the shaking and the touch are so much easier than having to talk about it. He's never been the talker. That's Party. And he knows his brother regrets not getting there — here — sooner that day, but there's a sick, selfish part of Kobra that's too glad to have Ghoul to want anything different. But really, it's all he can say. If there's remnants of bones that haven't been carried away by carrion-eaters, he doesn't want to see it.

Ghoul slowly stands up from his spot on the floor, staring intently at the broken knick-knack in his palm. It might have been a glass teddy bear, once, something a parent might grab up for a child waiting at home. It's partially shattered, though. Half of its cartoonish smiling face is gone. The heart shape it once held in its paws is cracked down the middle. Kobra isn't great with metaphors, but this is pretty fucking obvious.

"I didn't save them," Ghoul says quietly, his voice grating through the charged, silent air. "I didn't save her."

Something clicks into place. They all know that the crew he lost was Ghoul's real actual biological family. He's a sandpup. He was born and raised in the Zones. He doesn't talk about it much. Kobra's shocked he even came back here, let alone with anyone else. Ghoul doesn't talk about his family, but they've all figured for a while that he had a sibling. You can see it in how he treats the Girl.

"Your sister," Kobra says. It doesn't sound like so much of a question when he says it out loud, but he knows Ghoul will understand it as one.

Ghoul nods. "Yeah." He steps over some toppled displays, sun-bleached ads that used to be bright colored, and slips the shiny piece of broken glass into one of Kobra's pockets since he doesn't have any of his own. Kobra can already see the sunburn forming on his friend's shoulders and the tops of his knees. "She was like, eight."

That's all the more he says about it, but Kobra slips his hand into the pocket and runs his fingers over the broken glass toy still warm from Ghoul's hands, and hears the years of grief and bitterness in the few words. Ghoul's more talky than he is, but he's cagey, too. Kobra can hear him, though. He gets it. Doesn't mean he knows what to say, though.

"Shit," he spits. He wants to say I'm sorry again, but that feels fuckin cheap. He wants to say stop beating yourself up about it, but that sounds even stupider. "Fuck." Sometimes that's all he can say.

"Yeah," Ghoul replies. "Fuckin shit."

"Exactly," Kobra agrees, fiercely relieved that Ghoul gets all the shit he's trying to say. "Hey, uh. Y'know I'm-" He stumbles over the words, cringes at himself for the inability to get past a stupid two-letter word. "I'm glad I know you." He manages, as selfish as it sounds standing here in the ghosted wreckage where Ghoul's family was killed. But if that hadn't happened, they wouldn't be here now. They wouldn't be friends. And Kobra needs Ghoul to know he's glad that any suicide run to save his family failed. The pain sucks, but he's grateful for the outcome. He hopes Ghoul can understand that.

Ghoul doesn't reply. His acid green eyes bore straight into Kobra's for a few seconds while Kobra's heart hammers in his chest. Then he kicks at some dust and looks at the floor and shrugs. "Let's go, man. I don't wanna stay here."

"M'kay."

Kobra's almost tempted to reach out as they walk back out into the glaring sun, grab onto Ghoul like he's a ghost, too, and the light might evaporate him. But he doesn't. He can't.

He thinks the feeling of Ghoul hanging onto him as he steers Mirage away, back up the ramp to the road they came down in the first place, will make him feel better. It doesn't. Ghoul holds on much looser than he had on the way here, and it makes Kobra nervous. He wonders if he should have made him wear a helmet, and steers more carefully around the turns.

And then Ghoul adjusts his seat and throws one arm up over Kobra's shoulder, loosely hooking around his neck. He leans up forward and shouts, "C'mon, Kobes, let's play with it!" Like he's itching for the risk that a couple hours ago had had him holding on for dear life. Kobra's used to thinking his best friend isn't all there. But he's also familiar with the times he is. Sometimes, he forgets they're not the same age because Ghoul is so larger than life.

He tips his head to the side in acknowledgement, and punches the throttle. He even pulls a couple of tight, quick loops. He can't slide on the pavement the way he would on sand, but he can catch a little air when there's a thermal bump in the highway. Ghoul clutches onto him, but it's not scared. Something's cleared up in the gas station. Maybe it was closure. Hell if Kobra knows.

When they pull Mirage off the highway and the diner finally comes back into view, just a small glint of signage, Kobra slows his pace and can feel Ghoul sigh more than he can hear it. His friend's arms stay firmly around him. "Hey, Kobes?" Ghoul says, just barely loud enough to be heard over the engine.

"Yeah?" Kobra says, a bit louder to be heard past his helmet.

Ghoul hesitates, then says in a rush, "I'm glad I know you too. Like, really glad." And then he squeezes Kobra a little tighter for just a second and Kobra can't even say anything in reply. It's been a long night at the wrong time of day. And they're almost home.

#yes I know kobra is doing that annoying ''r u ok'' thing very repetitively he's like me he repeats himself A LOT it's ok. we still love him #I cannot express this enough. kobra has a stutter. literally sometimes the only word that will come out is just. F bomb. #the others have gotten very good at translating him skskskddkfj #btw wrt kobra's speech patterns just know I'm cutting WAY back on the amount of repeating I do irl #like I'm giving him my (mild) stutter but cutting down the repetitions by a lot bc it looks weird on paper #so whenever he's repeating himself and stammering? yeah it's a lot more like a scratched CD than how I typed it out #in my head it's like SUPER noticeable. like everyone knows this happens and that sometimes he has to stop and be quiet #and take a minute before he can get on with what he's saying. it's just a thing #ok now that I'm done rambling about kobra kid having a stutter- :) #btw they're like 16 and 17 here. they are children trying to navigate these very big emotions and I love them so so dearly #next time I need to emotionally or physically hurt kobra skfjfnskdn I keep going after poor ghoul #ok I think that's all I have to say for now #she speaks! #she writes! #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #ttlotfk #kobra kid #fun ghoul #this isn't really funkobra just bc I don't actually ship ANYONE here skskfjdghkdjgfkd #I'm much more compelled by platonic relationships that are kinda the Secret Third Thing than I am by romance. so. yeah

[reel-fear]

Susie designs that have her as a black woman >>>>

Susie designs that have her plus sized >>>>>>>

Susie designs that have her with freckles, stretch marks, with scars or crooked, wide or hooked noses >>>>>>>>>>>>>

Versions of Susie that struggle with her self image due to not looking like the spitting image of an "ideal woman" that existed in the 1930's >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

VERSIONS OF SUSIE THAT TIE ALL THAT INTO HER NEED TO BECOME ALICE ANGEL, WHOSE OBSESSION WITH ALICE COMES FROM ALICE FITTING THOSE BEAUTY STANDARDS BETTER THAN SHE DOES. HOW SHE WOULD DIE TO BE AS "BEAUTIFUL" AS ALICE AND NEEDS TO LEARN THAT SHE IS, TO BE ABLE TO MOVE ON FROM JOEY CONVINCING HER SHE WASN'T!! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Versions of Susie who do some or all of the above but don't demonize Allison when they do it >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

#ramblez #susie campbell #batim #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine #I like susie can ya tell #and have a lot of fun ideas for places u could take her character esp with her need to be perfect and become alice #thats not to say any susie that doesnt fall under these is bad just that I love these kind of takes on her particularly #I mean unless u like make susie evil just to elevate the male characters or make them victims #or just in general make ur susies like super evil abusers then I might have some problems since thats just straight up misogny #btw if u read this and think hm my susie is kinda like that just so u know no dont send me ask #just rewrite her to be better and reconsider how ur biases affect the writing of ur male characters vs female ones and think on how to #improve that n such #esp if u also have male characters who are bad people but write them with compelling reasons why or moral greyness meanwhile dont do #the same for ur female characters who are also bad people #kinda vaguing some aus n bits of writing I have seen can ya tell- #anyways yeah thats it I love susie and be nice to her or else seeya-

[threestripeslider]

with chapter 9 of odd man out finally out, i cant believe i'm reaching double digits soon on that fic (i say, as i ignore all my other fic wips and started multichapters)!! anyway.

you can also tell me why in the comments/tags!! i'm curious since some of the chapters have been a breeze to write and some made me want to chew concrete in the worst way possible LMAO

#turtle files: poll #odd man out #omo files: behind the scene #im just gonna let this one run #i have my own favorites too btw!! #some were super fun to write #others were just [shrieks so loud glass shatters]

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (part three)

*blows out candles* happy birthday to me! here's a gift for some of you <3

for anyone who has no idea what this is about, go here for part one

for those who do, here's the ao3 link, and if you prefer tumblr, it's just under the cut

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part 3)

The clock had just ticked over to 4PM when Hanzawa Masato entered the shop on Sunday. I shivered at the brisk gust of wind that swept through Jewelry Étranger; Richard simply rose from his seat and said, “Welcome back, Hanzawa-san,” without a flicker of surprise on his face. 

That was my fault—I hadn’t been able to keep my mouth shut during the intervening Saturday—but it was still good to see Hanzawa in the flesh.

I’d run into Kaede on Friday, and we’d ended up grabbing lunch together. She’d been accompanied by a friend who eyed me warily before Kaede explained how the two of us knew each other, and I was comforted to know that she had people so dedicated to looking out for her. I had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason for her stare, though—the bruise on my face had darkened into a faded yet obvious purple.

As we began to eat, it was impossible to not notice the attention we’d garnered, and Kaede asked, “Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t even sting anymore,” I told her. After diligently applying an ice pack for most of the day before, the swelling had decreased and I was pain-free, assuming no one was poking my face. “Mostly it’s just awkward. But you can’t help that.”  

At my answer, she relaxed, and we finally got around to making proper introductions. She, like Hanzawa, was a freshman in university, and—possibly like or unlike him—was studying literature. They’d ended up meeting through some mutual friends of theirs in high school, and once they’d found out that they shared the same taste in books and movies, became fast friends.

“Still, he’s pretty guarded,” Kaede said, and I wondered if her casual acknowledgment of that fact was the reason she hadn’t pressed for details on how Hanzawa and I had met. “Like, he knows so many people, but doesn’t really give off that ‘popular’ aura, you know? And he never had a girlfriend in high school—not that anyone knew of, at least.” Then she seemed to catch on to the fact that I felt awkward talking about Hanzawa when he wasn’t around, and quickly changed the subject.

We eventually started to talk about part-time jobs, and when I mentioned that I worked at a jeweler’s store, she whistled in appreciation. “Wow, that’s interesting,” she said, and I began to understand exactly why she and Hanzawa were friends. “What’s your store lighting like?”

I stared at her blankly. “The… lighting?”

“Sorry, I’m way too used to talking to other film buffs!” Kaede explained. “I was just thinking about how jewels are so hard to take photos of. It’s really difficult to capture the sparkle that you see in real-life, right?”

“Pictures definitely don’t do the real thing justice,” I agreed.

“Yeah, and I know that there’s some stuff that jewelers inspect for that requires special types of lighting, so I was wondering if there was any fancy equipment at your shop. But I’m realizing you probably don’t look at that stuff too hard, huh?”

She had the same kind of disappointment on her face as Tanimoto-san when she’d learned I couldn’t perfectly recall what metamorphism was. “I could… ask, maybe?” I offered.

“If it’s no problem!” Kaede accepted. “Lighting’s so interesting to me… it affects how things are viewed so much. Like, the type of makeup that people wear for filming differs from daily wear…” She clapped her hands together in realization. “That would be a great way to deal with your bruise, actually!” At my awkward look, she paused, and sheepishly tacked on, “Well, only if you wanted to, I guess… it’s pretty out there as far as a solution goes.”

“Ah… I kind of already bought some for that purpose,” I clarified. “So it’s a good suggestion—just one that I’ve already taken.”

“No, no, I’m glad you thought of it already!” Kaede exclaimed. “Did you shop at a store in-person? It must have been uncomfortable…”

What was really uncomfortable was maintaining the pretense that I’d thought this solution up on my own instead of being led around by Hanzawa. But judging by the fact that she hadn’t brought him up, I was pretty sure his skill with makeup wasn’t one Hanzawa often advertised.

“A little,” I said, opting for a half-truth. “At the checkout line, I got asked if I was buying the stuff for my girlfriend.”

“I guess it is uncommon to see guys buying makeup…” Kaede said, and then mumbled to herself, “But wouldn’t your bruise…?” Thankfully, she moved on from that line of thought and instead asked, “Did covering the bruise not work, since it’s still pretty obvious…?”

“It doesn’t really matter to me on the day-to-day,” I said. “But I definitely can’t work any public-facing job unless I cover my bruise.”

“Ah, I didn’t think of that!” Kaede gasped. “It’s probably good to use it sparingly, anyways—makeup isn’t that great for your skin, and I’d imagine yours is especially sensitive right now.”

“That’s good to know,” I said. “It’s been healing pretty well so far, so I don’t think I’ll have to use it much. I guess it’s because I just work security, but the television station I work at didn’t even mind—”

“You work at a television station?” Kaede interrupted, eyes gleaming in excitement.

I was surprised I hadn’t thought to bring it up earlier. It was a welcome change of topic, so I nodded.

Once again, she asked me about lighting equipment, to which I could give no answer, and she began to explain the various types of special equipment involved in filming. At a certain point, I had to awkwardly pause her explanation and point to her food, which had been left untouched for the past ten minutes.

“I got way too excited,” she admitted sheepishly when we’d finally parted ways.

“It’s alright,” I said. “I like hearing about that kind of stuff. It makes me think like… there’s just so much in the world that people don’t know.”

“I definitely feel that way, too!” Kaede said. “I mean, I know cameras fairly well, but recently I saw this interview from an audio director and realized just how much work goes into capturing and adding all the sound for films…” She managed to catch herself this time before she launched into another ramble and wished me a good day.

I wondered to myself if everyone had something they were secretly and intensely passionate about, like Kaede and Tanimoto-san. Though I’d developed a new appreciation for things after meeting Richard, I still wouldn’t consider myself a true enthusiast of anything.

It would be nice to be that way, I thought.

Later that day, I found that I’d been added to a group chat consisting of Hanzawa, Kaede, and I, where she delivered the news that the senior we’d made a report against had gotten expelled. Hanzawa replied first, sending a brief but warm congratulations, and I hesitated before doing the same. It felt strange not to acknowledge his existence directly, but I didn’t have anything I really wanted to say to him, either. Emotions were even harder to read through a screen—no matter what I said, I’d probably hit an impenetrable wall.

In the end, I simply set my phone on my nightstand and decided to sleep. I’d have to spend some time applying makeup before heading to work tomorrow, so it was best to tuck in early.

Saturday had passed, and now Hanzawa was here, entering Jewelry Étranger without even a hint of his initial hesitation. Maybe it was just my own increased sense of familiarity, but despite his calm demeanor, he didn’t look as closed off as before.

“You were looking for stud earrings, yes?” Richard asked. “I can bring out a few more, unless there’s anything in particular that caught your eye.” 

“The lapis lazuli was quite nice,” Hanzawa replied firmly. “I’d love to see more of that.”

“…Please, take a seat while I fetch them,” Richard replied, a beat too late, and then he was off, an unsteady set to his mouth. 

I supposed I’d been able to surprise him, after all. 

“Milk tea, right?” I asked, motioning to where I’d set it down on the coffee table. 

Hanzawa shrugged out of his jacket—today had brought biting wind along with the encroaching frost of mid-October weather—and laid it on the back of his chair before sitting down. “You thought ahead,” he said appreciatively. 

“Well, you said you’d come, so…” I trailed off, not wanting to spotlight our last meeting, but unable to act as if it hadn’t happened.

Maybe Hanzawa was the same, because though he’d been distantly polite to Richard, his tone was warm as he spoke to me. He held his teacup in that same delicate fashion and took a long sip as he assessed my face. Finally, he declared, “You’ve covered it up well.”

My hand strayed towards my cheek before I willed it down. “I was worried I’d messed it up because Richard noticed,” I said, “but none of the other clients seemed to.” 

Hanzawa didn’t seem surprised to learn this. “Richard-san’s quite observant; I didn’t think it would fool him.” 

And fool him it hadn’t—not even for a second. I’d come into the shop to see that a client had come a few minutes ahead of their morning appointment. At first, I’d interpreted Richard’s look of vexation as an annoyance with my lateness, even though I’d come right on time, so I simply busied myself with making tea. He’d been unusually curt with the client, though not out of the bounds of simple familiarity with a regular, and once they’d left, he’d whirled on me with a sharp look.

I’d frozen in place, pinned by the emotion I couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

“Sit down,” he’d said, and I followed his order mostly out of shock.

“…Richard?” I ventured, and then bit down a yelp of surprise when he suddenly knelt before me.

Way to give a guy zero warning. I knew that Richard disliked the ways in which his beauty isolated him, but it was seriously unfair to see his face so close.

“What happened?”

I wrenched my gaze away from the fine strands of his eyelashes. “What?”

“To your face,” Richard said. Though he spoke quietly, there was a frigid edge to his words. “What happened? Tell me everything.” 

“Ah—you mean my bruise?” I’d finally realized, and Richard’s hands shook at my confirmation. “It’s—well, remember Hanzawa?” 

After giving him a quick rundown of the events, Richard’s expression softened. He sighed, and as he pinched the bridge of his nose, asked, “Why is it that you can never seem to avoid trouble?”

I shrugged, still a little distracted by how close his face was to mine. “…Is it obvious?” I asked after a beat. Maybe it was stupid, but I really didn’t want to leave.

“You haven’t done a bad job,” Richard assured. “Tomorrow, bring your supplies to work, and I’ll do it for you.”

Now that I thought back on it, Richard had seemed rather shaken when I’d told him what had happened. I’d known that Hanzawa’s visit had bothered him, but I hadn’t expected that Richard would react to news about him with such concern. 

I tamped down another instinctive flare of jealousy and agreed with Hanzawa. “Yeah, he’s way too good at noticing things.” 

“I wonder if there’s ever a customer that finds it unnerving,” Hanzawa mused. “To be seen so well… it could be frightening.”

“In a way, I think it’s relieving,” I said, thinking about how Richard had applied my makeup with swift prowess this morning. I’d thought I’d done a good job on my own, but when I’d checked his result in the mirror, it was flawless. And he’d been gentle with the entire process, too—I’d felt fussed over in a way that was as embarrassing as it was pleasing. “I really like the way he doesn’t presume anything, so maybe that’s why I think it’s fine. Because I never feel as if I've been judged by him.” 

“What a lovely way to feel,” Hanzawa replied, savoring his milk tea with a smile. 

Our attention was both redirected to Richard, who had returned with his tamatebako in hand. An odd look was on his face—I wondered if he’d overheard us, but he opened up his tamatebako without comment or force. The earrings on display weren’t limited to just stud earrings, but were likewise simple, sparse designs that highlighted the stone in question. Gold sparked through in different patterns in each stone, and some were entirely without it, the entire rock a deep, even blue.

Hanzawa studied each set with a keen eye. “Blue’s a rather neutral color, but lapis lazuli looks so rich it borders on ostentatious,” he sighed. “Still, it is nice.”

Aren’t you fond of green? I thought to myself. But since I remembered how awkward he’d looked the last time I’d said so, I kept quiet.

“Is there something that drew you to this stone in particular?” Richard asked. 

“Like I said, it’s just such an arresting color,” Hanzawa said after a moment. “And… I was thinking a little more about what I wanted.” Maybe he’d realized he’d spoken with a bit too much bite, because he then laughed self consciously and clarified, “I guess I’m looking for something like a statement piece? Though it might seem strange to say as they’re just earrings, and not even in a particularly grand style. But this color…” 

He kept drifting towards that point. I could see where he was coming from—with the exception of some sapphires, I’d never seen such a deep blue, and the gold color scattered within lapis lazuli left a vivid impression.

“Statement pieces do tend to be on the grander side,” Richard conceded. “However, I think any piece of jewelry is its own kind of statement.” He paused, eyes flickering towards me, and tentatively added, “I’d like to believe that gems reflect the feelings of their owner.” 

“Is that so…” Hanzawa said, and in defiance of Richard’s caution, passed by his statement without further comment. “Tell me more about lapis lazuli?” he asked. “I knew about ultramarine, but I’m sure a stone like this has more history surrounding it.” 

Richard relaxed back into his chair. “Historically, lapis lazuli was central in Ancient Egypt. You’ll see it almost anywhere in many artifacts from that time period.” 

“All those gold and blue objects, then…?” 

“That would be lapis lazuli,” he confirmed. “As you can see, it was prized for its color even back then. The gold part of these objects, though, was actual gold—the flecks you see in lapis lazuli are something else.” 

“The gold color comes from… pyrite, right?” Hanzawa recalled. 

“You would be correct. Pyrite is commonly called fool’s gold, as well,” Richard explained. “It’s quite different, though—pyrite is far more brittle, and naturally forms a cubic structure, as opposed to the malleable shapes of gold. The color also tends to be lighter and more like brass.”

I vaguely remembered Tanimoto-san saying she liked the cubic structure of pyrite a while ago—I’d really have to find out what that looked like. The cubes certainly weren’t appearing in the lapis lazuli before me, after all.

“So… essentially, the name fool’s gold implies you’d have to be an idiot to be deceived by it,” Hanzawa quipped.

At that, Richard cracked a small smile. “Something like that.”

“I can’t think of an artifact I’ve seen that wasn’t uniform in its blue,” Hanzawa recalled. “Isn’t that hard to source?”

“It makes it a great deal more valuable, yes. Both pyrite and calcite are common components of lapis lazuli that can add noticeable gold or white spots. While pyrite’s inclusion doesn’t often diminish its value, an abundance of calcite in lapis lazuli would.”  

“So even something like lapis lazuli isn’t good enough to stand as is?” Hanzawa commented, without derision but with some measure of disappointment.

“To clarify,” Richard said, and it was at this point I realized that he hadn’t had the number of conversations I’d had with both Tanimoto-san and Hanzawa, “you’re speaking of the various ways in which gemstones are modified?” 

“Something like that,” Hanzawa allowed, and I wondered just how much the man before me knew about heat treatments and dyeing and cutting and polishing. 

“It is true that procedures like heat treatment influence the value of a stone,” Richard said after pondering the subject. “But no stone exists without human involvement. Each is mined or otherwise sourced, then polished and cut, and then fit into various settings. Not every jewel goes through each step of this process, but beyond that, every gemstone and jewel you encounter is prized only because someone has decided to do so.” He took a deep breath. “There is no stone in the world that exists without a human response. So, if there is a stone that is perfect untouched, then it is only because someone thinks it as such.”

Hanzawa was stunned into silence, a rare show of vulnerability cast on his face.

Richard took note and softened his voice. “So lapis lazuli’s value, like many others, arises from circumstance. It was one of the only sources for blue paint, and unlike a blue sapphire, could be carved. For those in Ancient Egypt, its rarity made it a signifier of wealth and status. Cleopatra used its powdered form as eyeshadow. Ra, the god of the sun, was often portrayed as having golden skin and lapis lazuli hair.”

“…There’s a lot of history carried in these, then.”

“Indeed.”

“I can understand why,” Hanzawa said. “In each setting, the stone looks slightly different. Like it has reinvented its image each time.” He inspected one pair of stud earrings where the pyrite gleamed in blue like a sharp crack of lightning before setting them down. “I doubt I’d fit a stone suited to royalty,” he said. He tried to couch his words in a light, self-deprecating tone, but it only worsened their effect. “I apologize.” 

“No need,” Richard said, studying Hanzawa intently. “Still, Hanzawa-san… the fact that this stone is sold here means that it cannot be just for royalty, you know?” 

“Then… if stones reflect their owner, what kind of people do you think wear lapis lazuli?” Hanzawa asked. 

Since he’d just mentioned her, my mind flashed to Cleopatra—she was certainly an image that was out of sorts with Hanzawa. But when I thought of that story regarding her pearl earrings, I felt that Hanzawa had a similar sense of pride and wit. At the very least, he could certainly match the composure of a queen.

“…I think there is not just one type of person suited to a certain kind of stone,” Richard began. “Things are not that… well, set in stone.” 

“Still,” Hanzawa pressed, “There must be some kind of consensus. Indulge a simple curiosity… what meaning is lapis lazuli associated with today?” 

“…Some claim it is helpful for mitigating insomnia and negative feelings. But as for associations with the stone itself—truth, I suppose.” 

Even a fool who thought their pyrite was gold would be able to catch the shift in Hanzawa’s expression. I realized then that even though he’d told me to tell him everything, I’d glossed over most of what I’d talked about with Hanzawa. Richard was brilliant, but he couldn’t actually read minds.

“Of course,” Hanzawa murmured, the strangled expression on his face having settled into an odd, muted reverence. “That’s why it’s so beautiful.” 

He didn’t look towards me; he knew I’d known, and he was smart enough to tell that Richard couldn’t. Client privacy was important, but half the reason I’d wanted to speak to Hanzawa was to get rid of that troubled look on Richard’s face, and here I was, mucking everything up and making the situation worse for everyone. I anticipated Hanzawa would become withdrawn and make the quickest, politest exit possible, but what he did instead was worse. 

In a single motion, Hanzawa drained his milk tea. “I’m no professional jeweler, but here’s my assessment,” he said, a resolute look on his face. “Lapis lazuli is on the delicate end. It’s flecked with fool’s gold, but not to its detriment—this makes it a stone that is as rich as it is fake. To wear it, someone must be capable of handling it with care, and grand enough to carry the attention its blue deserves.” He paused, sent a mischievous glance my way, and added, “Don’t you think Seigi would suit it well? He’s rather careful.” 

As if on autopilot, Richard scoffed and replied, “Careful?” 

Hanzawa dipped his head in agreement, though his smile was obvious. “Richard-san, I’ll defer to you opinion on him, as it’s you that knows him so dearly well.” 

Richard’s face turned slightly red—I guessed it was a bit disconcerting to respond on instinct rather than thought. In a strained voice, he offered, “Would you at least like to try on some of the earrings?”

Hanzawa stared at Richard, his momentary cheer immediately dulled. Then he smiled again, but it wasn’t friendly. He reached towards the set he’d been drawn to during conversation and tried them on without much fanfare.

Once on his ears, I thought they suited him beautifully—the gold seemed to glow under the lights of the store, and the deep color enhanced the blue tones of his irises. But once Hanzawa inspected his own visage in the mirror, his plastered-on smile flattened into a dim ghost of itself, and he shook his head. “No, I was right,” he said, and removed his earrings before either of us could say a word. “This kind of thing isn’t for me.” 

He'd become like steel; that countenance of his made it impossible to ask questions. He wished me well, and then whisked himself away, a sliver of wind wisping into the shop in his wake.

Richard lingered in front of the open tamatebako. That had been the last appointment of the day.

I sighed, unsure how to apologize, and simply said, “I’m sorry—I really thought that if he came to his appointment, it’d be…” And suddenly I realized that the more I understood Hanzawa, the less I was sure I knew.

“No… you were fine,” Richard said. “Wasn’t he comparatively talkative today?” When my frown didn’t lessen, he added, “For what it’s worth, he seemed to have opened up to you.”

“To me?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t to me,” Richard answered with a raised eyebrow.

“Not much good it did you, though,” I muttered.

Richard sighed and motioned for me to sit next to him. I glumly pulled a chair to his side. “He entered here on a whim, the first time,” he said. “Today, I could tell that he was seriously considering what he wanted. Though I understand your disappointment, it is an honorable decision for someone to decide they aren’t ready for something.”

“You’re right,” I conceded, “but it still doesn’t feel right.”

Richard’s hand hovered by me; I wondered if he was going to poke my bruise, but he simply settled a cool hand on my shoulder. “Rather than push someone into a shaky decision or entice them into a purchase by playing to their desires… it is best when someone makes the choice on their own.”

Come to think of it, he’d called himself thoughtless for selling that amethyst to Takatsuki-san, who’d been moved by the powers it was said to possess. Hanzawa’s case was kind of the inverse situation, but he, too, had been moved—in the opposite direction. And if, like Takatsuki-san, the reason was due to an unresolved state of mind, the purchase of a jewel wouldn’t pacify it.

“…You’re way too good at logical arguments, you know,” I grumbled.

Richard squeezed my shoulder. “It’s just that you think with your heart,” he said. “But that is not a detriment—it is a strength.”

I felt my face growing warm and turned to hide my expression. “I’d better get this makeup off,” I said.

“Unique” was a lovely compliment, but somehow, the simple assurance that I was liked as I was felt twice as magical.

#might have made some typos... i'll fix them if so #fun fact i thought this ch was gonna be super short. its 4k. barely shorter than ch 1! #btw for those who dont know who kaede is hirano asks hanzawa if hes dating this girl named kaede in the vol 5 extras #hanzawa says theyre just friends. in the same volume (ch 27) we see him hanging out with a girl and ive decided thats kaede #my writing #the anomalous agate #cfojr #hanzawa masato #nakata seigi #richard ranasinghe de vulpian #the case files of jeweler richard #kiri.txt #harusono #jeweler richard

[mobblespsycho100]

not my previous opinion on firefly coming to bite me in the ass JAHDJSHJD

#honestly her design is iconic #i think its the least fanservicey design hsr made so far #barring the child/younger teen characters' design obviously #firefly's design is still very gender and cute while being practical #also ofc Sam. is Sam. we love u sam. sam firefly. IHwdsjssjeheueb explodes #(for context i was previously unhappy with the fact that firefly and sam is one and the same) #(because i wanted a playable robot/mecha) #but kamen rider magical girl firefly who pilots / transform into huge metal warrior sam is so fun which i love #and the fact that firefly is canonically like . an biologically manipulated or engineered human #and is very much . older than a lot of our cast #first stellaron hunter (super cool) #the way her name signifies how her life is like #chefs kiss design #winx club looking ass splash art name title . thats a compliment btw #im very much looking forward to looking at her beautiful eyes up close . and also running around as a tall metal guy with fairy wings ahaha #kamen rider moment truly.... #also ppl saying its a clara svarog situation isnt getting it #clara and svarog are seperate characters just one in the gameplay #as svarog is claras robo dad/protector and just fights for her #honestly shouldve been clara & svarog like how topaz & numby are called that #but firefly is firefly. SAM is SAM. theyre one and the same #SAM is her alternate identity as a weapon and firefly is her true self #MAN.... #i think writing wise fireflys ''death'' was still not as hard hitting as possible #it was mostly shocking #which isnt bad writing #i still got attached to her #but when it was sad for trailblazer it just felt like a WTF WHAT. HUH moment for me #which kinda has like a disconnect #anyway im rambling too much