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garnetea · 7 months

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concept: little bit of nanami with a black girlfriend because it's exigent to society. (sfw)

★ nanami loves your wash days, more than you do honestly, and rightfully so, because it's such a goddamn workout. he's more adamant about you staying on top of your wash days than anyone. when you claim he can only be so rigid about it because he doesn't know how straining and repetitive it can be to take care of your hair, he's now threatening to help you get it done while searching for the necessary supplies. it's also quite likely that he'd surprise you (for better or for worse) with your basket of hair supplies on the side of the tub the next time you go in to sit on the toilet and scroll for forty minutes, particularly when you "forget" to take the initiative.

★ generally though, he just loves admiring the process and assisting where you'll allow him to. lathering and scrubbing with shampoo is already satisfying in most cases, but with your hair type? god... your shrinkage is bewitching to watch, your sui generis curl patterns are peerless, and seeing you thoroughly detangle, deep condition and rinse is a blessing to be alive for.

★ when he comes with you to family cookouts it’s funny to hear your family tease you about having a white boy, meanwhile you’re insisting that they play too much and he’s japanese. the assumptions are admittedly a little annoying after the second gathering, but the energy is never hostile, and it’s sweet how you always whisper an apology to him for your family’s teasing sense of humor. plus, the food is somehow always phenomenal, despite seeming so intuition based??? not ONCE did he see a measuring cup. he still has yet to fully wrap his head around how something as piquant as gumbo isn't eaten everywhere. “many things in life are neither good nor bad. however, this meal is by far the best i've had in quite a while.”

★ one more thing. nigga, r&b and jazz? shit, r&b and jazz MIXED? he’s never been a big fan of music too loud like rap, rock or cyberpunk. he prefers it more chill and easy to understand; instrumentals are certainly lovable. if he hears you play any artists like sade, frank ocean, erykah badu, marvin gaye, or elujay, he’s paying a little more attention to you, because he can’t miss an opportunity to watch you dance. imagine him looking up with his eyes alone from some newspaper he’s looking over, just because he saw you move your hips and sing a few lyrics. don’t be surprised if he plays a few of your songs on his own playlist.

#interact if you enjoyed! & i want to build an audience so reblogs mean the world!!#leman's art!#anime x black!reader #jjk nanami #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #nanami fluff x black reader #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #kento nanami oneshot #anime oneshot #anime fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen one shot

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dayurno · 2 months

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for the ficlet requests you mentioned... literally ANYTHING kandrew atp i am begging 💝

I GOT YOU ANON

Kevin Day's 38th B-day Bash Ficlets Requests (still open) - kandrew non-sexual dominance

"Drink," Andrew orders, hazy steam blurring his gaze into something softer than it is. "Don't reach for it. Just drink."

Cotton-minded and easily susceptible, Kevin leans over to press his lips to the rim of the teacup, pink digging into delicate ceramic. He reaches for it with no reservations, despite having been made aware of how hot the drink is, and the level of care he is expected to have with himself. Before Kevin can get him to tip the teacup, Andrew takes it away.

Kevin blanches slightly, so out of it even the small act of pulling away his tea seems to make him stutter. It is what Andrew wants of him — much effort has been put into this controlled situation so that Kevin sees the world around him as simple as Andrew wants it to be. The carefully constructed peace of sitting together and drinking tea is well fought for.

"Don't burn yourself," Andrew scolds with no infliction, blowing into the tea cup. Kevin's eyes glaze over at the motion, just as lost as he was before Andrew’s explanation, but he supposes it doesn't matter, anyway. Kevin's job here is not to understand, but to obey. "Sip slowly."

With the hand not holding onto the tea cup, Andrew supports Kevin's lower back, keeping him upright. Perfect posture is hardly one of Andrew’s exigencies for him, but it pulls Kevin under almost absurdly fast: something about being kept to a standard like this even for sitting must reach somewhere inside of him Andrew hasn't yet been to.

As they wait for the tea to cool, everything left hanging in their silence, Andrew absent-mindedly fingers the dip of Kevin’s spine. For a role often associated with the bedroom, even Andrew can acknowledge nothing about Kevin's easy submission is sexual — not yet, anyway. He is dazed, yes, but Kevin isn't here; he's floating somewhere else, trusting Andrew to care for him while he dips in his daydreams.

Andrew can't read Kevin's mind. In truth, he's never gotten even close. He does not know the place Kevin goes to when they're like this, but he reckons it is a peaceful one. Just like the nature of their relationship, most of this arrangement is based on two needs: Kevin's of being taken care of, and Andrew’s of caring for him. Both of them derive peace from it, and Andrew cannot tell if it's the idea of a practiced routine, or the power shifts it upholds.

Whichever the case, it is not all indulgence. The beginnings of this arrangement are muddy: Kevin, on a self-destructive kick, had been starving himself long enough for Andrew to forcibly intervene by any means possible. Such a dramatic clash of control was not smooth, but Andrew cares for Kevin too much, and he knows him too well — to ensure Kevin was caring for himself, he took on a role he couldn't see himself taking before.

Once the tea cools, Andrew pushes the warmed ceramic towards Kevin again, fitting it in the gap of his lips and tilting the tea into it. Kevin's Adam's apple bobbles as he drinks, lips pillowing the teacup, and Andrew can tell not a single thing is happening behind his eyes. That’s okay: he isn’t meant to think too much. Beauties like this are better seen, and not heard.

It’s a little bit like Kevin in the mornings; sleepy and slow, shivering in the late-year sun. He isn’t thinking much, isn’t keeping up appearances, hardly seems to even mind himself: an immoderate peace, carefully constructed.

#asks #my writing #kandrew #ilove you kandrew nonsexual dominance i love you i love you i love you #i hope you liked this......... i think its a little different than my usual writing but its still cute right

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bubble-dream-inc · 2 years

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TOO SLOW!

tokyo revengers street racing AU hcs + what cars they drive

⤷ feat. Draken, Baji, Souya, Nahoya, Koko, Ran and Sanzu

a/n: this is extremely specific and self indulgent bc i have 0 car enthusiast friends so i'm forcing y'all to listen to my ramblings thanks

KEN RYUUGUJI → Nissan Skyline GTR R32

☆ I can picture Draken with any modded up Sedan with a wide body kit tbh, in fact, his car is the most modified of them all, both in performance and cosmetics, since he does own an automotive shop.

☆So he spends his free time tinkering on his envied dark pink Skyline, and he’s arguably one of the most skilled drivers out there, even if not the most competitive one.

KEISUKE BAJI → Mazda RX-7

☆ Baji is a menace, and his car reflects that perfectly. His black and red Mazda makes the other racers quake in fear just by looking at it and knowing the amount of raw skill its driver has, but, while Baji does enjoy a good ol’ fashioned sprint race, it would be a shame to have such a classic car and not master the art of drifting, so that’s exactly what he did.

☆You can find him in the most dangerous corners, the loud exhaust and the sound of the screeching tires being heard from miles away. A bit of a hoonigan.

SOUYA KAWATA → Subaru Legacy GT Spec B

☆Angry doesn’t really care that much for competition, he’s more of a casual racer/cruiser, that’s why he has a more casual - and less modded - car.

☆His blue Subaru might not look that intimidating or fast, but he makes up for it with skill, deceiving any rival who decides to underestimate him. His car is the textbook definition of a sleeper.

NAHOYA KAWATA → Toyota Supra A80

☆Like his younger brother, Smiley is never at an event that much for the race itself - that’s just an afterthought -, no, he’s much more focused on showing off his tuned Supra whose looks can make any head turn.

☆Sure, he loves winning, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention of the crowd fawning over his red, neon-and-audio-system-in-the-trunk clad car, especially once he revs up to show off his extremely loud exhaust and backfire.

HAJIME KOKONOI → Stock Rimac Nevera

☆Listen, Koko doesn’t actually give a shit about cars, he just likes to win, hence why he’d rather fork out an ungodly amount of money to import a supercar instead of modding a normal one.

☆That’s also why he prefers drag racing, since he knows he has no skill, winning them shouldn’t be a problem against more skilled drivers as long as he has the most horsepower - and money - in the room.

RAN HAITANI → Lotus Exige Cup 430

☆Ran values luxury and elegance more than anything, so it makes sense he would have one of the most well known Lotus models. Sure, it might not be your usual street racing car, but, at the starting line, it’s always the sleekest, and its sheer power makes everyone look his way and whisper about it once he arrives in any race.

☆ Granted, much like Smiley, he would rather stay on the sidelines feeding off the attention he gets off onlookers gushing about his expensive vehicle.

HARUCHIYO SANZU → Mitsubishi Lancer Evo I

☆When it comes to driving aggressively, Sanzu is worse than Baji. He doesn’t mind playing dirty to win, and will ram into any car that dares stand too close for comfort at the track, even if it’s at the expense of his own car.

☆He just really loves the adrenaline rush of crashing his opponents and seeing the fear in their eyes first hand once they spot his baby pink Lancer at the starting line.

tags: @mikeys-bike-slut

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sanddusted-wisteria · 3 months

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A Builder, a Researcher, and a Rooftop, Ch. 26: Exigent Circumstances

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His hands couldn’t bring themselves to let go.

Also on AO3

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The door to the Research Center opened. It was two minutes later than Qi had predicted. His head snapped from whatever he was half-working on to the builder walking in.

“How are you feeling today?” He couldn’t keep the nervous edge from his voice.

“Not bad,” the builder muttered with a half-hearted shrug. “Still a little shaken.”

Qi nodded. They were only recently discharged. It made sense. On instinct, his hands reached out to cradle theirs as they approached his desk.

“Do you wish to discuss it with me?” he says gently.

The builder’s lips raised slightly in an attempt at a smile. “I think I’ll be okay. I just came to check up on you real quick.”

Qi stood up, looking deep into their dim, tired eyes. “D-do you want some tea, then? We…we don’t need to talk about anything.”

Their gaze flickered away. “N…no, thanks. Are…are you feeling okay?”

Qi felt his heart sink. “I’m alright. Your condition is of greater importance, though.”

The builder grimaced. “I…I just need some space for now. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“S…space?” Qi’s memory shuffled around to recall some passages from relationship advice books about the concept of “giving space” to one’s partner. Asking for space wasn’t a sign of a failing relationship, even though the extended period of limited contact might seem like it. Unless under extenuating circumstances, it was best to grant one’s partner space without much fuss if they requested it. So Qi nodded. “I will always be available, should you ever need me,” he murmured, trying not to sound overly disappointed.

His hands couldn’t bring themselves to let go.

The builder withdrew their hand from his. “Thanks.” They carefully wrapped their arms around him. “I won’t be gone too long.”

Qi delicately wrapped his arms around their waist, not wanting to disturb their injuries. At the same time, though, he wanted to savor this. Their last touch for who knew how long.

They pulled apart from each other, fidgeting in place as neither wanted to turn around and get back to what they were doing before.

“Be careful,” Qi whispered eventually. He hoped that the words carried as much weight as how much was pressing down on his heart.

“I will. I’m not gonna do anything super strenuous these next couple days.” A slightly more genuine smile lifted the builder’s lips briefly. They turned towards the door. “See you later, Qi-Qi.”

Qi stared at the door long after it had closed behind them.

He felt a dull ache in his chest. They’d only gotten more distant after the night they came back from the supposed dead. When he visited them in the clinic, their conversations were shorter. Qi figured that it was because there wasn’t as much to talk about, considering they had been stuck in bed day in and day out. But even after Dr. Fang gave them permission to return home, their visits to the Research Center never felt substantial. Just a brief greeting, maybe a cup of tea, a sparse conversation, and many distant looks and unsettled silences.

Qi could still sense some of the same joviality and affection from the builder, but they were all obscured by something else. Their focus lay elsewhere, and try as he might, it felt almost impossible for Qi to pull their mind away from it.

It felt disheartening in so many ways. It was usually so effortless for the two of them to become engrossed in something exciting together, be it an astronomical event, or analyzing a new relic, or performing experiments. As ridiculous and self-centered as it sounded, Qi almost felt like he was failing as their partner. Failing to engage them and give them some much-needed reprieve from the world.

It didn’t help that he wanted nothing more than to spend time with them. Even more than whatever he was working on. Even if it was only for less than a day, the dreadful knowledge that they were gone forever affected him more deeply than he’d ever thought possible. Had he been taking them for granted before? All the stargazing nights, all the little favors of power stones and hot food and tea, all the relics and inspiration and energy… Even if he hadn’t, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take them for granted now. Every moment together, every touch…he wanted to savor it.

Worst of all, the builder’s distance was only validating that insidious voice in the back of Qi’s mind: the one that whispered doubt and suspicion. Were they hiding something from him? Something about the circumstances of their “death”? The builder had carefully dodged most opportunities to talk about the situation. Perhaps only under the guise of needing time to emotionally process—

Qi furiously shook his head. No. They just had a near-death experience, for crying out loud. Who was he to try and doubt the veracity of their terror and injuries?

He picked up the electronic signaling journal that he was reading before, giving his mind something else to fixate on.

The builder would be fine. They just needed some time. Maybe this time apart could be good for him, too.

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Qi didn’t see them again for a week afterward. It had been an eerily quiet week. Once, perhaps, he would have wanted nothing more than one week straight without disturbances. But now, the silence almost felt stifling.

On the next Saturday after he agreed to give them some space, he wondered whether they’d be ready to see him again. He certainly was itching to see them.

He figured that they should approach him first instead of the other way around. Should he stop by their workshop to seek them out himself, they still might not feel ready, and might even be frustrated by the breach of their agreement.

So he waited for nightfall. He brewed some soothing herbal tea and poured it into the thermos. He grabbed their rooftop tea set and headed out and up. He sat down at their usual spot and poured himself a cup of tea, leaving the thermos open for when the builder would come. And then he waited.

And waited.

Qi held on until well past midnight, listening closely, jolting at every noise that sounded vaguely like a footstep.

But the builder never came.

The tea had gone cold.

Qi felt another ache ripple through him. Defeated, he poured the rest of his unfinished cup back into the thermos, gathered up the tea set, and stood up.

He looked out towards the builder’s workshop in the distance. No lights, no movement.

He let out a quiet sigh, descending the stairs with heavy steps.

Inside, he poured all the wasted tea down the drain and put everything away. He didn’t care that he still had some work he could do. He felt oddly exhausted all of a sudden, eyes droopy and head clouded.

He collapsed into bed, wrapping his blankets tight around him as he drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

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Qi was up on the roof.

Of course he was. It was Saturday. Oh, and he even brewed tea.

The builder eyed him carefully from the road below as they snuck up to Sandrock Storage. They’d purposefully gone the long way around to get there, past the Game Center and the path leading up from the arena. They knew he would be up there. So did Grace, they wagered. Why on earth she’d decided to schedule their operation tonight was beyond them.

How long had it been since they’d peered up at him on the roof from down below? The first time they’d seen him, they couldn’t help but think he looked lonely up there. It had pulled them up towards him, setting off a chain reaction that would bring them closer to him than they ever expected.

Tonight…he looked lonelier than ever.

Waiting for them. On the one night where they absolutely could not see him.

They felt a twist in their stomach. A part of them wished they’d broken their silence at least a little sooner. At least to give themselves a buffer before this mission to not have him occupy their thoughts as much. But they couldn’t stomach seeing him with all these secrets bursting from their seams.

What Grace and Logan had told them that day weighed on them constantly ever since they returned to town. And with no one to talk about their findings and what they meant for the people of Sandrock, that was all their mind could focus on. All day, every day. If they saw Qi, and let their guard down as they always did around him…they would crack. There would be no stemming of the flood of thoughts, and they’d inevitably spill out in front of Qi. They had no idea what would happen if their lips were let loose. And they’d rather not find out.

The door to Sandrock Storage was already open a tiny amount. It slowly swung open as they made the last couple steps. Grace was already inside, beckoning them in with a tiny flick of her fingers. The builder glanced up and down the empty street one more time. No one there. They looked back up at Qi one more time. He only stared at the landing of the stairs, taking a sip of tea. With another pang in their gut, the builder slipped through the open door.

Grace silently shut the door behind them. “All clear?” she whispered.

The builder nodded. “Only one out there’s Qi. And he’s only sitting on his roof. Probably waiting for me,” they whispered back with a grimace.

“Yeah…” Grace said with a vaguely guilty look. “Tonight’s just the best possible night with everyone else’s schedules. I had to bank on the fact that Qi probably wouldn’t notice someone creeping around behind him while he’s busy looking for you.”

The builder nodded and took a deep breath, trying to empty out any worried thoughts about Qi from their head. “What now?”

Grace pointed at an innocuous-looking bookcase in the back of the room. “The secret door should be over there. Try pulling that second box, if you please…?”

They moved over to the shelf and did what Grace asked. There came a click, before the whole bookshelf slid over to the side, revealing a massive vault door.

“And here we are…” Grace said from behind them. She pulled out the Anti-Lock and twisted it into the slot on the center of the door. Gears turned and clanked as the vault’s locks were undone.

“Hope it’s just something doofy and embarrassing in there, like Qi’s Old World cartoons…” said Grace.

The builder fixed her an unamused glare. “Er…n-no offense,” Grace backpedaled with a sheepish grin. She cleared her throat. “But seriously. The water levels from this place are always just a little off. If we’re gonna get to the bottom of this water business, whatever’s in there holds the answers.”

Beyond the door was a corridor. Old, worn stairs led down into the dark. Grace and the builder exchanged a look, and with a nod, they stepped over the threshold.

Down they went, Grace only illuminating a short distance in front of them with a carefully-aimed flashlight, as to not attract attention if anyone was ahead.

“How do you deal with all this?” the builder whispered as they walked.

“Hm?”

“All these secrets. It’s only been a week and I’m just about ready to explode holding it all in.”

They just barely saw Grace shrug in the dark. “You get used to it. Soon enough, holding all these top secrets doesn’t really feel special anymore. Hell, it doesn’t really feel like much of anything anymore.” She let out a barely-audible sigh. “It helps when you’ve got no one you trust enough to tell them to.”

The builder peered at her out of the corner of their eye. Her face was stony, staring straight ahead. They’d only seen that face one other time: at Logan’s hideout. So different from her sassy, half-ditzy, half-knowing grin.

As they descended further and further into the dark, Grace’s words stuck to the builder’s mind, and they braced themselves for the new tangle of secrets that lay ahead.

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#exigent circumstances: in criminal investigation--broadly speaking; any scenario that is time sensitive and requires immediate attention #(in US law) only under exigent circumstances can a warrantless search/seizure can be done #(e.g. imminent harm to other people; imminent destruction of evidence)#my time at sandrock #mtas #mtas fanfic #shady's fics #brr #mtas spoilers

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sketch-mer-6195 · 8 months

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Bubbling ideas thanks to my new hyperfixation with Transformers (and have no shame in it). Might be working on a new oc... or at least try to create one.

Meet V'ger, A Scout and Med-bot for the Autobots. She transforms to a Lotus Exige S Cup 430

Lets see what we can do *rubs hands together*

#mer merps #transformers oc #lets see what we can do #because I have no idea how to start the design for her #W H E E Z E!!!!!#halp meh

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quincyhorst · 8 months

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Headcanon Potpurri, Red Matador: THE JOCKS + Fermin

A.k.a most normal Monster Energy consumers 🙄

I just realized, but by posting this, both of the main "HC series" on this blog so far (This one and Gareth's story) are just one post away to be finished. Pretty perfect coincidence, given WWC Spain vs England is tomorrow. Maybe the result will determine whose series ends first 👀

Anyways... I'll confess right away and say that these 4 consumed my brain the most out of the team; so they get the most HCs from me. Get ready. This will be fun.

First off, JOCK JUMPSCARE 😱

Ignore Toni, he's actually chill

Ok, now onto the actual headcanons:

Querardo is from Navarre (Around Tudela), and so does Samuel (His dub profile confirms he's from Pamplona/Iruña). They actually met thanks to their respective fathers, both with a close bond. In fact, Samu's father was the assistant (named "mozo de espadas" in the bullfighting world) of Querardo's father for a while, at least until they parted ways and found their respective wives. Pretty much every July, in time for the San Fermín festival, the Naval and the Mayo reunite and celebrate together.

They might not share schools, but Querardo and Samuel have a very close friendship and they enjoy every meeting as best they can. They also played together for the Spanish Community Cup, in which they were the key players that led Navarre to the trophy.

Like mentioned before, Querardo's father is a famous matador from Seville, but his mother is just another worker at the farm her family owns. Having a cozy home inbetween the wilderness, she at least had a place to raise her son at. And yes, Querardo was pretty much raised alongside mother nature :')

Samuel's parents have pretty normal lives, and I guess their son too. However, upon some years ago, his father had an almost fatal injury that left him incapacitated, only being able to move in a wheelchair. Said injury's origin is attributed to a running of the bulls, a simple incident. Or so it seems.

Meanwhile, as for Davi... His fathers are huge fans of soccer like him, but messier. His father is a Barcelona Orb fan, his mother a Gran Madrid fan. They act surprisingly peaceful when a VS happens, BUT their discussions get heated whenever they talk about what team will their son join in the future. They are perhaps TOO supportive for his own good.

...Truth is, Davi just wants to keep his options open, man. Hell, he isn't even of a particular team. He likes all teams, and all he wants is to support local talent no matter the colors. As long as it is from ESPAÑITAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

...Yeah, Davi is very passionate about spanish soccer as a whole. VERY. And inspired by his japanese profile, he is very openly competitive with the other countries. I don't think he's either a good winner or loser unfortunately

He's from Madrid, so his bond isn't as deep as Samuel + Querardo's at first glance. However even before the FFI started, Davi bonded well with the field forward and so with the captain, to the point he was quickly integrated into the group when Redomata was formed.

Alternatively it would be cute if he met them from before BUUUUUT. Not sure yet.

However like on previous potpurri, him belonging there doesn't stop him with intereacting with others; in fact he's quite more sociable than the other SS Trio members (That's saying a lot).

Davi gets the best with the midfielders, mainly because of Joan and his easy-going atitude. Pedro and Igor are quite stupid at times but the forward doesn't like being rude with them, given they remind him of his little sister. And Mikel, uh...

Yeah, it's time to talk about something I owed here. Unfortunately as the FFI progresses, Davi starts to notice that despite being a main field player, unfortunately his skill level wasn't the best, or at least nor the required one for the exigences of RM's rivals. With each match, Davi started to be more and more exigent with himself, wishing to be at other's levels. But the fact that barely anything came from this left him pretty resentful. And for a while, that resentment manifested in envy on those who were better than him. Mikel being one of those, unfortunately. So, he became pretty competitive with his teammates as well, but to such an extent it was getting quite frustrating for them too. And yes, this also added to the SS rivarly with Los Bellos. Oops.

...At least Brockenborg was the perfect slap in the face for him, making him accept his imperfections and seek a better future instead.

Being fair the whole trio went throught the most during the whole tournament, and with a reason (?)

And now, about the final member... Fermín is Querardo's cousin, the keeper's father being the younger brother of Victória Gartzia. When their child was born, he insisted to do all the required paperwork to make Fer carry his mother's surname first. And with a reason, she's literally a worldwide karate star.

Unfortunately, the relationship between cousins isn't the best, since since childhood Querardo would always pick on Fer by his huge appearance, and things got slightly worse by him choosing to style himself after a bull. Yeah, the matador jokes are endless when these two are together.

Fer has tried all he could to ignore that, but there's some truth hidden to it: Unlike a huge chunk of his family, he's actually VERY uncomfortable with bullfighting. But he feels often nervous of speaking out in front of his fanatic father, his equally as passionate uncle, AND his matador-on-training cousin. Yes, he is taller and even looks as old as any of the adults, but at the end of the day Fermín is still a 15 year old teen. And a pretty misunderstood one.

This is why when the FFI happened, Fer's spot on Querardo's circle was replaced by Davi soon enough. With him joining on the middle of the FFI he's often pursued by this group, but he'd rather keep his distance for now. Then again, out of the three he only has a good relationship with Samuel. They respect -and understand- each other.

Fer is still unsure how to feel about his other teammates, but he's glad the defenders seem to care about him. Rafael in particular wants him to join in their group the same way he does with Juan. Plus... They are technically the only RM players who do interact outside of a hissatsu, y'know...

His most peculiar relationship is with... Laudelino however, since for some reason he calls him his "Sancho Panza" and wants to bring him to his adventures. Fer does NOT share his way of thinking at all, so its messy.

Overall, maybe Liocott is the perfect spot for both cousins to talk out things better... Maybe. If they don't try to kill each other during the tournament, first of all (?

If you came to the end, thank you, here's a meme for you <3

#hc:ina11 #red matador #querardo naval #samuel mayo #david peroqui #fermín sánchez #I hate them (affecionate)#KASKDÑFDJK #Btw with “dynamic” on said meme I refer as *my* dynamic with them #...I'm so sorry; but... I genuinely cannot see neither of them as 100% good people at all #Samuel (At least in the manga) is horribly unhinged and I've spoken already about Davi #Querardo is the better of the three imo (I mean; look at his final convo with Endou) but even then something about him rubs me the wrong wa #I'm sure he has some sort of bad side too. If he regrets his actions or not; that's another story #Meanwhile about Fer.... its complicated :(#OC:Naval Family

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jose92gt · 7 months

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Resumen del episodio 78 de Yu-Gi-Oh Go Rush

(Momento idiota 88)

Es temprano en la tarde y Yudias está dando un paseo tranquilo con sus amigos por el parque. ¡Pero entonces, Chupataro aparece de repente y exige que le devuelvan a Meeeg-chan! Mientras tanto, Damamu disfruta de Fusion. Mutsuba Town ha vuelto a la normalidad después del final de la Copa Galaxy, pero Yuhi no puede evitar sentir que algo anda mal...

(Idiot Moment 88)

It’s early in the afternoon, and Yudias is taking a leisurely walk with his friends in the park. But then, Chupataro suddenly shows up and demands Meeeg-chan to be returned to him! Meanwhile, Damamu is reveling in Fusion. Mutsuba Town has gone back to normal after the end of the Galaxy Cup, but Yuhi can’t help but feel that there is something off…

#yugioh go rush #yudias velgear

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the-relentless-inspector · 9 months

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An Exigent Return

In which the Inspector is perfectly well.

Warnings: body horror, gore (referenced/implied), character death (referenced/implied), vague Estival 2023 spoilers (no game text quoted).

(Part 3 of 4)

At last, he was greeted no longer by searing brightness, but the warm glow of beeswax candles, and the rather agitated voice of Mlle Lily.

“Oh, thank goodness, finally- stop doing that to yourself!” Here he expected the speech to be punctuated by the sharp press of a paw, but no such thing occurred. “You could have- you could have- I worked all night to put you together-”

“Day,” interjected Inspector R____-H______ quietly. “You worked the day too.”

This seemed to break the rat’s thread of thought entirely, and the Inspector took the opportunity to ascertain her state. Her white fur yet betrayed small specks of blood, but save for a bandage on her tail, no obvious source was to be seen. “You are well?”

“You,” Mlle Lily snapped, “aren’t listening. You were supposed to- it wasn’t supposed to make it worse- you were supposed to be harder to hurt but all it does is make you get hurt more-”

Here Inspector R____-H______ broke in again. “Tea’s ready soon, Miss Lily, and I’ll need someone to carry the cups if I’m to get the mushroom broth as well. Do you want to, or…?”

The rat promptly hopped down from the bed to accompany the other officer, and the Inspector could hear them speak in low voices.

As he shifted to take in his surroundings, his body protested, yet his pulse remained steady. Doubtless, then, he was healing. He had been brought to his lodgings in Old Newgate - proximity to the site of the battle, then, must have been crucial, for the choice of beeswax over foxfire suggested a need for truer light, and thus more complex procedures, ill suited for the darkness of the prison. The cell bore the signs of continued presence; his colleague’s estimate of the time, then, must have been correct.

Further deductions were interrupted by a muffled bark by the door, and the Inspector had only half attempted to rise when there came a call of “One moment!” and Inspector R____-H______, bearing a teapot and a bowl of broth, bounded out of the adjacent cell that served as a kitchen. It could not have been so great an exertion, the dull ache in his ribs notwithstanding, yet the single look she shot him brooked no argument.

No sooner had she opened the door than Chiot charged into the room, depositing a basket of provisions with great care before proceeding to the Inspector’s bedside. The bloodhound’s wagging tail and searching glances served to demonstrate his admirable restraint in not leaping upon the bed, yet as the Inspector was about to remind Chiot no order to this effect had been given, he was presented with a cup of green tea and a bowl of strong mushroom broth.

Both tea and broth were excellent, and the Inspector ate and drank slowly so as to savor the taste. Yet Mlle Lily’s attempts to aid him must have distracted him, for it was only when he was close to finishing the second bowl of broth when he realized it had been refilled.

“Madame l’Inspecteur, you-”

“- didn’t make too much after all, did I? You know how it is, sir, dreadful hard to judge when you’re cooking for guests.” She raised her own bowl, as if submitting it as evidence.

“More tea?” Mlle Lily skittered off without waiting for the response. Scarcely a moment later, there came a flash of viric light from the kitchen, then a yelp. “This… this… it’s lovely they’re sending cherries, but can’t you tell them to knock?” The rat returned, bearing the offending item, and hastily scrambled up on the Inspector’s bed once more. “Later.”

The tea’s reviving properties notwithstanding, the Inspector felt his eyelids grow heavy. Finding his pocket watch (as well as his remaining attire save for a nightshirt) absent, he cast a glance about the room to determine whether this was appropriate.

Inspector R____-H______ caught his gaze. “I suppose that’s a bit too many candles if you need to sleep, sir.”

“Hardly. I am merely resting my eyes. …There was the sunlight.” He turned towards the wall. “They make it far too bright these days.”

“I’ll douse some of the candles, then. So your eyes can get some rest.”

The room dimmed. Soon, there were no further sounds beyond his companions’ even breaths and the steady ticking of what no doubt was his watch somewhere nearby, and at last the Inspector found sleep.

He was much restored in the morning: the dull ache had dulled further, and he could once more make out the contours of the room even in the darkness of Old Newgate. There was no light save for a faint blue shine, emanating from what seemed to be a point upon the silhouette of Inspector R____-H______ by the desk. She was not in the habit of glowing; he should inquire as to the cause later. Yet as he had evidently been the first to wake, he resolved first to prepare breakfast. It was only proper.

He rose, noiselessly as he could, noting in the process with some satisfaction that the leg that had begun to trouble him since the Horticultural Exhibition no longer did so - it had, he reasoned, been an excellent opportunity to set it anew, and it had healed cleanly on this occasion.

The room had swayed but briefly, and the Inspector’s pulse had remained steady, so he decided he was fit to attend matters of propriety. He found his uniform neatly folded on a chair - the shirt had evidently been a lost cause, but the coat and trousers had been salvaged -, gathered all that was necessary and stepped into the kitchen to set to changing and shaving.

He had come no further than lighting a foxfire candle and removing his nightshirt, the latter once more to the complaint of his ribs, when his attention was arrested by a peculiar sight: sutures, following the path the splinter of the Revolveress must have torn - a path that, if the Inspector was any judge of his own vitality, should have healed unaided. He had hardly begun to examine them when his eyes fastened upon a silver gleam in the center of his chest.

At first, he took it for a button of his ill-used coat, fused to flesh in the haste of healing. Yet surely, he thought, Mlle Lily would not let it remain when she had been so diligent with her needlework? With the aid of his shaving mirror, he deciphered the writing upon what he saw to be a latch: “With Joy, from the Hill.”

“Are you… is everything alright?” came the cautious voice of Mlle Lily. “I told you to be careful, it’s too soon…”

Before he had opportunity to respond, the rat had already skittered to his side.

He fixed her with a level gaze. “Explain.”

“You kept trying to… it kept trying to beat, and it couldn’t, it was just pieces, wearing itself out faster than you could put it together again, and… I had s-something already, it was just a first try, the next one was going to be so much better at winding itself but there wasn’t the time…”

“It is functional.”

He had intended it as a statement, yet she appeared to have taken it as a question. “It’ll keep going for a week without winding, if you’re careful. A few days at least.” Her voice had steadied now she was focused upon explaining her craft. “I wound it just y-yesterday, but… it’s better if I show you how it works before you need it.”

She disappeared into the main cell, but the Inspector barely had time to arrange himself in a more dignified manner before she returned bearing a silver key, much like that of a toy, though larger in size. Under imprecations to keep the key clean and never lose it (“I have spares, but if I have to make spares for the spares, I’ll… I’ll be very cross with you”), she guided him through the process - opening the latch, feeling the spring’s tension, carefully turning the key… When at last he packed the key and all that was required to clean it into the leather case he was to carry at all times from that moment, the Inspector’s hands were nearly steady, and the ticking of his heart entirely so.

#fallen london #horticulture hell #in which the inspector is perfectly well #(body horror)#(I always figured she had that stashed away on a drawer and if wounds 80 isn’t a reason to get it out I don’t know what is)

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