#and obviously it is very fast/sketchy

[kuerie]

breaking news, little guy is in fact small

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. street racer au.

“it doesn’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile; winnings winning.” dominic toretto, the fast and the furious.

𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 you applied to college with hopes of escaping your boring life. you never actually thought you’d be accepted, yet, here you are, sitting on the twin mattress in your very small, shared dorm. unexpectedly, a note slips under your door. you and your dormmate share a confused, intrigued look, then pick it up and read it. ‘T-20. be there at 10 or don’t come at all pussies’ with an obviously unfamiliar address on the bottom. well, you moved here to be less boring, didn’t you?

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 meeya, as in me, the author, does not know anything about cars or street racing. do not be surprised when things are at least a little bit inaccurate / heavily based on the fast & furious franchise / alcohol + drug consumption / violence (?) / obviously illegal street racing / profanity / more specific tags will be added at the beginning of each chapter.

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 chapter one ; wc ; (1,221) chapter two ; wc ; (2,097) chapter three ; wc ; (757) chapter four ; wc ; (1,033) chapter five ; wc ; (1,441) chapter six ; wc ; (smau) chapter seven ; wc ; (596) chapter eight ; wc ; (smau/446) chapter nine ; wc ; (1,681) chapter ten ; wc ; (866)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒 y/n l/n ; a sweet voice, freshly-baked cinnamon rolls, trying desperately to be a selfless person, forgotten cups of tea, strawberries, shy smiles, always carrying multiple hairties just in case, messy hair, a little lonely. rintarou suna ; tattoos snaking down an arm, piercings done in sketchy basements, untold stories told through prolonged looks, cigarettes smoked down to the butts, driving one-handed, staying up and sleeping in late.

SPECIAL TAG TO @massacremars FOR BEING SO GENEROUS AND HELPING ME WITH THE SONGS LINKED TO EACH CHAPTER!!

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; open (25/50) !!

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @vertejay

@tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig , @usbrous

@iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @reocidal , @mysticstrawberryballoon

@h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu , @twiishaa

@kissunday , @ilovejeansosomuch , @anqelkoz , @yiooobb37 , @renardiererin

@pookalicious-hq , @sunnyskiezzzz , @sharkissm , @wyrcan

[teaboot]

Grandpa-Related Post

Okay so if you saw this post then you know that my brother and I have located our AWOL grandpa

Now, I kniw he's always had problems with his hands, but ten years later they are borderline useless and it's definitely a problem

(See diagram below)

now, his nails are all very thick and long and that isn't helping, but that's something we can fix. What I'm more concerned about is the swelling and permanent curl in his index fingers, and the locked joints in his thumbs.

The three furthest fingers in each hand are constantly sort of fisted as far as I can tell, and the wrists themselves are fused straight after several surgeries and no longer bend.

What he can do now on his own is limited to thumb-index pinching movements, and kind of hooking things with his curled fingers.

He can fold paper, hold a sandwich, and pull stuff out of his (unzipped, open, never closed) fanny pack.

Right now, he isn't able to move fast despite being (obviously) highly independant, and essentially spends all day outside his care home wandering and loitering in the sketchy part of town with cash visibly sticking out his bag.

So, I'm looking to see if anyone has any ideas on accessibility aids or bags or grippers or anything he can use to help him do things on his own.

I might be able to modify a bag to close with magnets or velcro instead of a zipper, and am already looking for a dual-handled cup that doesn't look like it's meant for toddlers.

He has slipped a wee bit in the memory area but is otherwise very present- though he has stated that he's bored, lonely, and mentally understimulated.

His chief complaint at the moment is that the food at his care home tastes like shit, and "everyone else has dementia and can't carry a decent conversation".

Also he can't hold his phone anymore and his service was cut, but I have a few ideas there. Still open to suggestions, though.

Input welcome!!

[crownedinmarigolds]

CrownedinMarigolds Commission information as of February 2025!

Hello all! Sorry for the long post - but my commissions are re-opened until I feel like I have enough! Thank you to everyone who is interested!! The "rules" for my commissions are below the break, as I know this post is long enough already!

I am using KO-FI's commission tab to keep track of how many slots I have for each type, as well as occasionally introduce a different style or so if I feel like it/come up with one. This is to make things easier for me in regards to tracking, and to make things more visible to you all so you know how busy or available I may be!

My quick sketch commissions are always open on my KO-FI! Please note that aside from light tweaks, I will not overhaul draw the quick sketches or the group quick sketches.

Prices may slightly vary depending on specific details, but that is something we can discuss in private. The prices shown are pretty solidly what I will charge!

PLEASE NOTE: I will not start work until payment is made.

The prices above include the character + a simple background color/texture chosen by me unless otherwise requested by you. The group portraits will require a bit more in-depth discussion - such as if you don't want them just standing together and want them to be doing something as a group. That may change the price slightly depending on what they're up to. If you'd like to add a specific background, we can talk about that as well! I keep you very up to date through most of the process, and I have a few extra rounds of concept sketches prepared if needed for larger portraits. I will happily provide my Discord in private if we need to really talk things out, it's definitely easier that way!

Disclaimers: I have a very sketchy and not 100% clean art style, so please expect that in the finished product! I am absolutely happy to draw not safe for work scenes or subjects like sex, violence, blood, etc - but obviously the more gross end of the spectrum I won't touch. That can be discussed in private! I am not very good at drawing mechs, cars, or animals, so while you can ask me to, I may deny it just to ensure you don't get a subpar final drawing.

Also, I work full time and am a wife and mother! I like to think I'm fast and incredibly attentive but just please be respectful that I may have to step away to take care of my family. I have to save drawing for after I am off work and when my child is asleep.

If you'd like to commission me, go ahead and grab your slot through my KO-FI. Feel free to also send me a direct message through Tumblr or email me at ladyofsilks@gmail.com! Just noting again, I am using KO-FI to keep track of the slots taken and to keep all my record-keeping in one place. If you miss the window for a slot, I can of course write your idea and information down and inform you when I'm about to open slots again. You will be getting concept sketches, updates as I go, and of course the high res copy of your image at the very end. I would ask that you speak with me before using my work for public use or on paid programming. Otherwise, these images are yours and you feel free to use them as you please!

I am on KO-FI, and here is my Art Tumblr Tag for more examples of my work!

Thank you all so much!!

[ooooo-mcyt]

It's honestly jarring to me every time I watch Third Life how fast Dogwarts falls.

Ren had practically the entire server on side. Martyn, Etho, Skizz, Cleo, Bdubs, Impulse, Tango, BigB..they were all pretty much guaranteed allies, and it probably would have been exceedingly easy to get Scott and Jimmy as at least neutral allies with a bit of diplomacy. It was the entire server against Scar and Grian. And then Ren shot himself in the foot.

Ren severs his alliance with Cleo and Bdubs (and later tango and impulse by association) for an obviously sketchy alliance with Joel and then manages to piss off Jimmy so bad he and Scott are ready to go to war despite the fact that Scott wanted to be allies. It's shocking, every time I watch Third Life, seeing how fast Ren's list of potential allies halves and teams up with the people they'd spent all season hating.

All because of a few 'power plays'. Because Ren got his army and influence by being generous and charismatic and approachable, and he lost that influence rapidly when he started asking people to bow to him. Scar and Grian were bad, but they never acted like they were above anyone, they never wore a crown, never flew their flag over other people's bases, never asked a single person to bow, and that made all the difference.

But..somehow it also felt inevitable.

Ren had been generous and approachable, and it was..bad for him. Sure, he wasn't in anyone's hit list, but people took advantage of him all season. And it wasn't his enemies. Scar and Grian came and threw some threats around, planted some tnt. But the actual nail in the coffin to Ren's kindness were his allies.

The Village People come at the very beginning of the series and just take enchants, practically mock Ren for asking for anything in return, because what leverage does he have? Payments come in sessions late, sometimes less than was promised, even though Ren doesn't ask for much. Even Martyn, ever the survivor, seems to be looking for exits in case things go south, in case Ren isn't strong enough.

So Ren became "stronger". Because what other choice was there? It was either try to hold his own or be stabbed in the back for his weakness. I don't think either choice would have led to victory. Not when the vultures were circling from the start.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/766688842914938880/wait-soif-the-only-things-making-companies-censor?source=share

So I've been keeping half an eye on the NSFW AI chatbot and image generation scene (because it's funny watching how fast they flare up and burn out), and the app store and payment processor thing is really evident here

Horny AI image generators can't go in app stores. Full stop. It generates pornography, there's no really getting around the artistic merit stuff, and anything that generates believable photographic styles can actually spit out literally illegal images (digital content which is indistinguishable from a real life photograph recording of a living child) if it's good enough. Users only have minimal control over if what they generate will comply with the ToS; if you ask a bot to give you an image of a "cute boy" it might give you a heartthrob pop star, a generic smiling toddler, or a shota with a huge dick. If the shota is against the ToS, you are now breaking a rule that you have no control over.

And becaues it's AI, it can't actually be filtered. The robot doesn't know what it's looking at, it can't generate an image and then make a judgement call about how that image applies with the ToS because it doesn't know what a ToS is and all it knows is that the image it generated from the "cute boy" prompt is the kind of image that is associated with the caption "cute boy".

App stores and the big payment processors don't want to deal with that mess, so these platforms will have apps that can be downloaded from their website or from discord, and weird sketchy ways to pay, like crypto or some small payment processor that you've never heard of and that sounds like a phishing scam.

Horny image gen platforms tend to be very short lived, and either rebrand as SFW platforms or completely shutter after only a few months. It's funny, but the tragedy is that this happens because of poorly moderated NSFW images, not because the images it generates suck.

****

Text does a little better, since it's copyright laws, not "we can't let people pass off recordings of child abuse as digitally generated art" laws that AI text tends to violate, and "horny is bad" as a social more is applied more strongly to visual material than to plaintext.

The bigger text platforms, like Google's Bard, have filters in place that will refuse to show NSFW text, and they're more or less accurate. The smaller platforms, which most of the "talk with your anime waifu" chat platforms are, have stupid insane garbage filters on what text users can enter, but not on what the chatbot generates. So you can prompt "describe her sexy vagina" and get "I'm sorry, I want to keep people safe so I can't talk about that", but if you type "describe her petals" you get a graphic description of a vagina from a bot that obviously has a mountain of het erotica in its database.

There are some text-only NSFW chatbot platforms that seem to be chugging along just fine with paypal, but they have strict rules about what images can be uploaded as avatars. Some will allow users to make sexually explicit loli bots, but won't allow any images of young characters, sexual or otherwise, anywhere on the site. Many text-only platforms don't seem to be in app stores, though. Paypal is fine with them but Apple isn't.

It's a weird, weird, little microcosm of the internet, and an interesting insight into what's going on with payment processors and app stores in re the pressures placed on websites.

****

The takeaway from all this (aside from the fact AI is amusingly ridiculous) is that text-only sites like AO3 and or Literotica are probably just fine, while sites that host images, like Tumblr, are under more scrutiny.

--

[yuri-is-online]

Been brainrotting lately and now I present to you what I think is an underused story beat for Yuu. What if “Yuu” isn’t even the prefect’s real name?

Considering that Yuu’s first experience in Twisted Wonderland is waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes… I just think most people would not give their real name in such a sketchy situation.

Fast forward to when Yuu is more comfortable with the cast and there is both comedy and angst potential here. On one hand, the reactions to the deception could be pretty funny. (Cue a “woe is me” from Crowley. Of course he can’t find a way home for you when he doesn’t have your real name!) On the other, this could be a great way of exploring the prefect having a crisis. Yuu already lost so much in being taken to Twisted Wonderland, and now in a way even the prefect’s name has been taken.

What do you think?

waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes…

Annon, annon, annon, when you put it like that it sounds like Yuu woke up in the middle of a cult ritual of some sort. Which I suppose if you were an edgy Night Raven student idia you might argue that the enrollment ceremony totally is as an excuse not to go

But to be more serious, I have seen a few memes about this concept and I like it a lot σ(￣、￣=) It's a fun character concept, it's not everyday you get a chance to re-invent yourself completely.

That being said, just based off of the few dialogue options Yuu has at the start, I think Yuu is implied to believe that they are dreaming:

Which honestly doesn't make this idea any less valid. If you're dreaming about waking up in the middle of some weird necromancer's rite, why not give him a fake name? It's not meant to be serious anyway. Just go with the flow and hope things don't get too weird (and get offended when your dream doesn't give you magic powers) until it's too late and you realize everyone thinks your name really is that bad joke you made.

If you want to get darker, maybe Yuu really did think they died. A black carriage pulling a coffin really only goes to a funeral, and death has been depicted as an unmanned coach with black horses. Maybe Yuu is only just coming to grips with the fact that they really are alive when they see Riddle overblot and he hurts them. Maybe they now are sitting next to two people who have started to think about them as a friend, a really close one. Maybe they think Yuu is really brave because they charged headlong into danger without a second thought, and won, twice now. Maybe Yuu cries themselves to sleep that night because in a way... you died so yuu could live.

As for reactions, Crowley and the other staff members I think would be the most dramatic, followed by Adeuce and Grim. Jack I can see accepting your reasons and not thinking too hard about it, maybe even respecting your survival instincts, while Epel... well he says he's mad but mostly he's just concerned. He knows what it feels like to have two dueling parts of yourself and trying to find the middle ground. Ortho would be excited, you have a secret identity just like a magical girl/super sentai/anime idol/superhero take your pick really. He certainly doesn't mind getting to know you all over again.

Sebek screams at you for being a threat to Wakasama but it's clear to everyone who actually knows him that he's really just worried about the amount of stress you put on yourself. He would hate for you to have the same issues with self loathing he does. And Malleus? Well he lied to you about who he was because he was worried you would be afraid, even though you didn't know he existed. It would be very petty for him to hold a grudge against you for doing the same.

In general I think this would be something the others would have an easier time understanding as opposed to Yuu's sense of alienation or loneliness at not having magic. Identity issues are common themes in fiction, so I could see them actually seeing it as a problem as opposed to an abstract problem like no government papers (since these kids with one obvious exception don't do taxes.) But it would make for a great way to explore the prefect having a crisis just as you say, in a way it's the perfect example for every problem they might have with being in Twisted Wonderland.

[jazziejax]

𝐈. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

Pairings- Priest!Art Donaldson x Reader, Priest!Patrick Zwieg x Reader

Summary- Odessa and Antoinette get a creepy letter in the mail

Warnings- religious talk, swearing, inside thoughts, not well written…

Jazzie’s Notes!- I just wanna preface this with saying that I don’t really know how to write this style of writing. I have to learn to write well in first person, but then if I do that, I would have to switch person to person all the time. Let if know if this is good or not, don’t be afraid to give feedback. Also, this isn’t meant to offensive to a religious group, I am religious myself. Sorry for any spelling errors!!!

Word Count- 5,313

Antoinette’s life was far from perfect. She lived in a crappy apartment in a sketchy part of New York with barely any money to afford to live. But she tended to find the bright side of most things. She shared said apartment with her best friend, and she always dreamed of living in New York. Plus, her job was a cute diner with a surprisingly stylish apron. She felt like one of those girls in the rom-com movies. Life could be worse.

“Hi, what can I help you guys with today?” The chipper voice of the young lady said as she pulled the notepad out of her blue apron pocket. She looked expectedly around the group that sat at the diner booth.

“Uh, can we get two French toast meals with the strawberry and whipped cream on them, no bacon or eggs on one of them? And two chocolate chip pancake meals with no whipped cream, just the bananas and blueberries. Four milkshakes, one chocolate with no cherry no whipped cream, one strawberry with the cherry and whipped cream, one vanilla with just the whipped cream, and another chocolate with the cherry and the whipped cream.” Said a blonde woman in one go, before looking up to smile at the waiter.

What a…hearty breakfast. Is it even breakfast time?

The girl squinted, caught off guard by everything that was thrown at her so fast, and didn’t write anything down past the ‘no eggs no bacon’ part. “Um, okay, yeah. I totally have all of that. I’m just gonna repeat it back to make sure it’s correct.” The curly-haired waiter smiled, looking down at the small amount of words scribbled on the yellow paper. Before she could even start talking, the blonde girl spoke up again.

“Oh, no need.” She smiled sweetly, which was obviously fake and condescending by the way she then waved the girl off before continuing the conversation she was in with her friends. Antoinette's eyes darted from one person to the next, utter shock but not surprised at how they all just continued to ignore her presence. She offered a small smile, whispering a small “Okay.” Before walking off to tell Lonny what she remembered of the order.

Which also didn’t go in her favor.

“Why the hell didn’t you write it down?” The older man asked, his New York accent thick on his tongue as she looked down at the small piece of paper the girl handed him.

I totally didn’t even think of that.

“I tried, she was going too fast and wouldn’t let me stay any longer to get it correct.” The girl whined. “I can tell you what I remember from my brain.”

My brain, what am I, seven years old? I need to expand my vocabulary.

“I don’t need what you have in your brain, I need the order on paper! I’m running a restaurant here, curly fry, not a school!” The grump yelled, before moving around the kitchen to continue to cook. Antoinette just stood there, arms stiff at her sides as her eyes drifted towards the open box where the orders got dropped off to see the more than half-empty restaurant. Her brows furrowed inwards only a smidge as she looked back over at her boss.

“Lonny, they’re the only people here.” She stated. All she got in response was the slam of the man’s fist against the metal table out of frustration. Not caring, or rather not paying attention, Antoinette continued. “I mean, them and the homeless guy that sleeps in the booth at the very back. And the occasional person with a laptop to charge.” She shrugged.

Lonny then turned, glaring from afar at the girl who was at least a foot taller than him. Granted, he was a short man.

“You’re lucky I like you curlyfry.” The man grumbled. “Now write down what you can remember then get back to work.” He hissed, turning to the batter he had before him. Antoinette was almost tempted to ask, what work? but refrained from making the situation worse. “Okay.” Was all she said before starting to scribble what she caught of the order on the paper.

My handwriting is atrocious, I need to work on that. Ooh, that’s a big word. Maybe my vocabulary isn’t so terrible. Hey, they do say bad handwriting is a sign of intelligence.

“Also, can you go kick out that homeless guy?” Lonny started, talking to the girl over his shoulder.

“Why can’t you?” She immediately asked, not even thinking over the statement. The older man threw his head back, letting out a deep sigh. “Because I’m working. Ya know, the thing you don’t do.”

Antoinette softly gasped in offense, placing a hand over her heart. “I work. I’m getting this order to you right now.” She said, tripping g the paper from the bit pad and sliding it over to the order station. “Plus, Joey’s gonna be here any second for my shift to end. Although a little late. He can handle it though.”

“Yeah, but I asked you, and I want it done now.” The man spat, never once looking back at the girl as he continued to make the dough for his bread at the cooking station.

“Well, I can’t because I have to wait.” She said, starting to take off her apron. Lonny screamed in annoyance, turning to face his employee. “What did I tell you about that word?!” He screamed desperation and anger in his tone.

“That it’s only used by stinky European teenage boys.” Antoinette related like a mantra at this point. “So stop it!” He yelled as she then tried to walk out of the kitchen, actually having to pee. “And what did I tell you about telling me when you have to pee.”

“I just thought you should know!” Antoinette yelled back through the closing kitchen door. She sighed, starting to continue her way to the bathroom before briefly pausing when she realized the table from earlier was now looking at her in irritation and confusion.

Great, they probably heard me talking about having to pee.

She smiled at them, her dimples being the cherry on top of her adorable face. “Your food will be out shortly.” She said as she encapsulated one hand in the other, voice now calm in contrast to her previous yelling. She went to walk about before stopping once more. “Hopefully.” She said before continuing, taking her apron off in the process and laying it on a hook in the back where her bag and coat were.

She wakes in the dingey bathroom, pulling down her pants and squatting over the bowl. Finally, in some semblance of peace, she had the same thoughts she had every time she used the bathroom at the diner.

My calves have to be extremely strong after doing this for four years. Can they hear me? Gosh, I hope they can’t hear me. I think I’d kill myself. Well no, I wouldn’t because that’s a sin.

Finished, the file looked over next to her for the toilet paper, seeing the roll bare but the sake of two thin sheets stuck to the adhesive. “Aw, man. No paper.” She said to herself. She then tried forward, scouring her mind for a solution to such a predicament. Here she was, leaning forward with her rosary handing in her face, squatted over the toilet seat with urine dripping from her privates.

Today couldn’t be any worse.

Just then, the door shot open and slammed into the girl's head. Antoinette yelped at the harsh contact, not even paying attention to the scream let out by the man above her as she focused on her now throbbing head and tried not to fall into the toilet bowl. “Dammit, Antoinette, lock the door next time.” The man groaned. Antoinette held her head as if her hand would bring some sort of red to the area.

“Ok, Joey can you go grab me some toilet paper? We’re out.” She said, trying to focus on how embarrassing this whole ordeal was.

“Uh, yeah, give me a sec.” He said through the door before drifting away.

Antoinette sighed, her head flopping down as she was once again left in that weird position, now even more embarrassed that someone saw her and that she was hit in the head. And it was her coworker.

Lord. I’m sorry but I must die today.

Joey then came back with a new roll of tissue, handing it to the girl through a crack in the bathroom door, even though he could see the girl in the small bathroom mirror. A few seconds after a flush and the sink running, Antoinette emerged with an awkward smile on her face to see Joey standing in front of the bathroom door.

“Hi.” Was all she said, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Hey.” The taller olive-skinned man said back. They stood in front of each other for a few moments in silence.

“You should go—“

“Sorry about—“

They stared at the same time, pausing before awkwardly laughing.

“I was gonna say sorry about your head. I kinda just barged in.” Joey continued, smiling down at the girl in front of him.

“It’s fine, I was sitting there very awkwardly. Squatting rather.” She stared, brushing it off. “I was saying that you should head on in there and…do whatever you were going to do.” She shrugged. She could feel her heatwave pick up just being in his presence. And the longer she looked at him in those sultry brown eyes, the feeling of a hot pool started to rumble in her lower stomach. She might’ve been a virgin, but she wasn’t stupid.

Well, not entirely.

She knew she found Joey attractive, but the feeling she got when she stood too close to him was not okay in her book. It triggered her fight or flight, but instead of running away or throwing fists at him, she wanted to jump into his arms.

Yeah, I can’t do this. It’s time to leave.

“Well, it was nice speaking to you Joey, have a nice day. Oh, and Lonny wants you to remove the homeless guy from the booth in the back.” She spat out in a hurry as she grabbed her bag from the hook, along with her coat, and walked back to the front. She passed the table on her way out, seeing that they were now eating. “Oh, you guys got your food. Great.” She said with a small customer service smile as she continued walking.

“Yeah, our order is actually wrong—.” The woman from before couldn’t get out much more before Antoinette was cutting her off.

“Sorry, I’m off the clock. Bye.” She cheesed on her last words and walked out of the door, a bell ringing above her head. She scurried to the alley on the side of the building, to see her bike still double-chained to a random pipe in the next building over. It was basically a little game at this point to come around the corner and see if her bike was still there. Sighing in relief, she rushed over to the baby blue bike with a wicker basket in the front. She unclasped her key from her wrist and unlocked the heavy-duty chains she bought with her last few dollars when she moved to New York. This elderly couple had given her the bike when they saw the girl walking in the rain, saying it was their daughter’s old bike. But since the girl was lost and confused in a very nice neighborhood, she had to buy some chains so she didn’t get jacked before she could get to enjoy its labor.

The girl opened the basket in the front of her bike to place her chains into when she paused at the sight of something wrapped in the large bin. The thing was moving underneath the black cloth and Antoinette was just frozen. She glanced around at the alley to see if anyone was watching her but spotted not a single soul. Sighing, the girl reached out and pulled back the back fabric, being sure to keep her head as far away as she could whilst also being able to see within the basket. Seeing that whatever it was didn’t violently react to her movements, she eased forward to see a tuft of sandy white hair.

What in tarnation is this?

Now confused, the girl leaned forward and pulled the cloth back more to see two small kittens in her backseat, one was this sanely blonde color, the darker part of its body being its nose area and its tail. The other kitten was a mix of colors, mainly orange and black with white spots here and there. Antoinette’s heart immediately melted at the sight of the two kittens.

“Awww!” The girl said, pouting at the creatures who lay in her basket. Well, one creature lay while the other moved around in the basket as best as it could. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest?” The girl gushed as she lifted the blanket with them two in it to place the chains at the bottom of the basket. Once placing them back down, she looked at the cats, who eventually acknowledged the woman above them with tiny meows, as if they were speaking to her speaking voice. Antoinette nearly cried as she continued to fawn over the cute little animals.

“Yeah, you two are coming home with me.” She said as she mounted her bike and washed her way out of the alley. “Des is just gonna love you two!” She said excitedly, closing the top of her basket and riding off into the New York City streets.

“Why the hell are there kittens in the kitchen?” The light skin girl said as she walked into the small flat and hung her keys and coat near the door before turning to her right to see two kittens in the kitchen licking at a bowl of milk on the corner. Antoinette smiled at the girl as the light from her laptop reflected off her large glasses.

“Hello, Odessa.” The girl said formally laying one hand on top of another as she sat straighter in her seat. The lighter girl furrowed her brows, eyeing her friend across from her in the small kitchen.

“What do you have to say?” The girl demanded out of her rather than asked, already tired from a long work day and knowing Antoinette had something up her sleeve.

She’s sneaky for a catholic…Well, aren’t they all? According to history.

“Well, to answer your previous question, these cats are here because some holy being left them in my basket on my bike.” She started. She could see Odessa was about to speak again but she interrupted before she could. “And before you say anything discouraging, I’d just like to say I did some extensive research. The multicolored one is a calico kitten, and did you know that approximately one calico in 3,000 is male? And guess what? He’s male!” The girl with glasses said, faking her shock again to add to the dramatic value in front of Odessa. The leather-clad girl just leaned against the kitchen archway with her arms folded, face stoic. Seeing that Antoinette was waiting for some sort of reaction before she continued, the woman slightly opened her mouth to let out a small gasp, glancing over at the kitten near her feet.

Antoinette smiled before continuing. “And that quiet and mysterious beauty is a ragdoll kitten. They have an above-average life span, fully grown at 4 years old, quiet by nature, as you can tell. And they are one of the largest cat breeds out there, which is also kind of confusing because you’re supposed to mix other breeds to get a ragdoll cat.” She said, trailing off at the end as she looked at her laptop in confusion, those two facts not making much sense in her mind. Shaking off the thought, the spec-wearing girl looked over at her cooler friend, who just stared at her. Antoinette put on her best smile.

Well, not her best. She was sort of anxious about the whole situation so the smile was kind of awkward, the girl showing all of her adult teeth while her eyes waited on an answer, her brows giving away her concern.

After a moment of silence, the two just looking at one another, Odessa cracked first.

“We can’t keep the cats.” That was all she said before all hell broke loose.

“But, I did so much research on them! I could probably work as a veterinarian with all the knowledge I know now.” The girl in pink whined.

Odessa just started, moving to put her hands in the pockets of her leather pants, the tattoos on her arms showing.

“It was basically a sign from God- well the universe that I’m meant to keep them. They just appeared in my basket, begging for my care.” She continued, changing her words when she saw the girl's brow spike at the mention of the guy up above. That still didn’t get a reaction out of the girl, Odessa just moved across the small kitchen and past the tiny table to the fridge. Antoinette followed her moments within her seat, desperation etched into her face.

“I mean, it won’t cost us much. I can use the bin we use for our socks as their litter box and just use sand from the cigarette pot downstairs.” I’m grasping at freaking straws here.

Odessa turned around once she had the beer in her hands and used the counter to pop the lid off. “And for now we can just give them milk, ya know since we always have some that go bad and we’re lactose intolerant anyway.” She continued, taking her glasses off her face to look at her friend.

Odessa cringed at her words, and leaned against the counter now, which was only about three feet away from the other girl. “That sounds like a terrible life for these poor kittens, Antoinette. And us.” She said before taking a swig of her beer. “We can’t afford them.”

“I mean, it's not like we’re poor. We can take care of them.”

“We have a box television in the year 2023…” Odessa started, “And it’s not even in our living room, it’s in the kitchen and it’s the size of a basketball.” She finished, pointing over to the small television on the corner of the table that softly played reruns of old television shows with the antenna that aimed at the small kitchen window. “We don’t even have fucking cable.”

“Language,” Antoinette muttered. “I mean, at least we get to watch Sex & The City and Living Single for free.” She smiled over at Odessa, who gave her a simple stare. “We can’t afford them, Bennie.” She said softly.

Antoinette then deflated, shoulders sagging as she leaned back in the old wooden chair. She had lost all hope as soon as the girl said that name, Odessa only calling her that when she was serious about something. Mainly because Odessa hated nicknames. “Okay, I’ll find them somewhere tomorrow.” She softly whined before putting her head in her hands. Odessa pursed her lips in sadness, patting the girl on the shoulder for comfort before making her way out of the kitchen. It only took her about three steps before she was in what most would call a living room, but Odessa liked to call it her room. Since it essentially was her room.

The far wall was made of brick, with a green couch in front of it that let out into her bed and a small back circle table in the middle, on top of an ugly carpet.

The girl sighed as she turned and dropped down onto the couch, letting her back hit the seat cushions. The old ceiling light hurt her eyes and made her already terrible hangover headache worse, so she threw her arms over her eye, placing her face in her elbow. Getting home late last night from one of her small concerts, she liked to call them, at the bar she worked at, she got a little too wasted. It was a recurring theme for her honestly.

Get up, go to work at the bar, wait till 10 to start performing, do that until about 2 am, get drunk afterward and either go home with whoever she decides to lay with that night or go to her humble abode. She didn’t perform every night, but when she did, that was usually the routine. And now she was suffering the consequences of getting drunk and staying up until 5 am when she had to work only hours later. At least she didn’t perform tonight, now she could stay in longer since it was only 6.

Her head becoming too much, the girl sat up from the couch to head to the bathroom to see if she could salvage some pain pills. But before she could, the sight of a pile of letters caught her eye. Reaching over, she grabbed the small pile to sort through.

Bill, bill, bill, creepy letter, postcards, bill, rent, perfume samples…What the hell?…

Odessa paused at the sight of the letter, the off-white paper wax-sealed with a red stamp. She squinted, looking at the seal to see if she knew the symbol from somewhere. Looking at it in just the wax form, she couldn’t quite make it out but she knew it looked familiar. Standing up, she kept her eyes on the letter as she walked back to the kitchen.

“Did you see this creepy ass letter in the mail?” She asked, standing the the archway and turning the letter to face Antoinette, who had her head propped on her chin as she sadly looked at places where she could drop the kittens off. Speaking of kittens, they now lay in the girls’ lap, curled into one another in almost a yin and yang symbol.

Antoinette looked up, squinting at the girl who was blurry since she didn’t have on her glasses. Odessa walked forward, placing the letter in front of her roommate.

Placing her spec on, Antoinette inspected the letter more, immediately recognizing the symbol. She furrowed her brows, glancing up at the even more confused Odessa. Gliding her long bare nails under the wax seal, she popped the envelope open and pulled out the letter. “Ohh, handwritten.” She said to herself as she looked at the unfolded paper.

She was silent as she read through the letter, causing Odessa to just stand before her and wait for the girl to speak. She watched Antoinette read the letter, her face going through a mix of emotions. First, her brows raised in surprise in the beginning as she hummed in contempt. Then her eyes widened as she continued before she got to the end of the letter and gasped.

“What is it?! You’re making my blood pressure rise.” Odessa said, watching the girl intensely.

“It’s from Saint Mary’s.” She started, not looking up to see Odessa cringe at the words. “They said a lot has changed in the last four years. Mother Agnes died, and they refurbished the church and built it. And they even have new staff, but the community is failing. They sent letters to all the kids that grew up in the foster home to see if they’d come to work there to improve their quality of life. Pay and free housing included.” She finished, looking up at the girl before her.

Neither of them could look each other in the eyes at the news, both of them still processing everything. Mainly the information about Mother Agnes dying. There was a sense of relief as if the girls had been haunted by everything that woman did to them. And in a sense, they were. They’ve endured too much pain at the hands of Mother Agnes. So much pain that they had to live with their whole lives, and leaving there didn’t help as much as they thought it would. They just now had a place to express such feelings out loud. Although they never did. Conditioning at its finest. Just thinking about their youth made Odessa want to break down and cry after so many years of pushing those memories away. And Antoinette…she could have a panic attack just being back at such a place.

After a moment of silence, Antoinette read over the letter again and again while Odessa just started in thought, someone finally spoke.

“We should do it.” She said softly, not looking up in fear of Odessa’s reaction.

“And why the hell would we do that?” The other girl asked harshly, offended that Antoinette even thought of such a possibility.

“Because it could help.” She answered softly. “We could use the money.”

“We have money. You and I both work.”

“You said it yourself, Des,” Antoinette said looking up, her hands slightly shaking as she played with the letter in her hands. The thought of going back wasn’t doing her psyche any good, but she felt as if this was a good opportunity. Maybe this could be good for us. “We don’t have the money.”

“I said that about your cats. Me and you are living just fine.” Odessa spat, her words harsh as she looked down at the darker-skinned girl. Antoinette subtly flinched at her tone, looking back down at the letter in her hands. Odessa saw her small movements and immediately felt bad, she wasn’t making the situation any better.

“It could be good for us.” Antoinette started again, not looking up this time. “We could go there and help out. Make it a better place than it was when we were there. Be nicer to the children so they…don’t end up like us.” She said. Her words hung in the air for a moment. “I mean, what other place is gonna offer us free housing and a job?”

“We go back just so we can be in debt to those people?” Odessa stated, ignoring what the girl previously said about helping the children. “So they can treat us like some charity case? Like they did when we were foster children?” She continued to ask, staring at the top of Antoinette’s head since she refused to lift her eyes from the wax she was ripping off the paper envelope. “I’m not going through that again, not for some people who didn’t give a damn about us then.”

“There’s new people.”

“Yeah, and who do you think taught them what they know?” She asked, folding her arms. There was a thick silence between them.

Antoinette nodded, never looking up. “You're right.” She closed her old laptop and adjusted the kittens into her arms. She then tucked her laptop under her arm and stood up. “I’m gonna go to bed now, good night.” She said softly, walking past Odessa and into the small room on the other side of the living room. Odessa sighed, placing her head into her head as she heard the girl's door softly close from her place in the kitchen.

Antoinette didn’t come out of her room after that, but Odessa could hear her shuffling around in the very small space. She now lay on her bed couch, looking over at the skinny door every time she heard the slightest moment from the room. She would wait to see if the girl would come out in the middle of the night like she always did to ask her random questions, say a random fact, or go to the kitchen to get some water and get caught up in the small television. But none of that ever came.

As soon as Odessa thought sleep was about to finally meet her halfway, she got caught in the words Antoinette said earlier. About helping the children.

Now, Odessa was far from a children's type of person. She was far from a people person, honestly, but she had to make a living somehow. So, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was so affected by the girl's words as soon as they left her mouth. But deep down, she knew why. And so did Antoinette.

Even in the foster home, Odessa would always protect the younger kids from punishment. Taking all their lashing so she didn’t have to hear the cries of children being hurt. Antoinette is one of those kids when the others would blame things on her. And she would take their pain with no words since the age of fourteen. She never vocally expressed the pain she felt emotionally, mentally, and definitely not physically. That mentality infuriated Mother Agnes to the point she would single the girl out and beat the girl harder to see if she could make her break. But Odessa only let tears slip when she was alone.

Now Antoinette didn’t know the severity her words would have on Odessa’s mind, so she couldn’t blame the girl. But she knew that the girl was right. Odessa would do anything in her power to make sure no other kids ended up like her. She would do anything to not hear the cries of pain from children who busted and wanted to be accepted and loved.

And with that thought, she got up from the bed and walked over to Antoinette’s room. She opened the small door that led to the tiny room to see the girl’s back facing the door, looking out the window at the city as she lay in bed and petted the two cats.

“I changed my mind.” She said softly.

Antoinette glanced over her shoulder. “About the cats?” She started. “Nah, I think you’re right. I don’t think I can care for them properly.” She said sadly, turning to look back out of the window.

“No, not about the cats,” Odessa stated.

There was a pause between the two, Antoinette processing the girl's words. She then sat up in her bed and turned to face the girl at her door, five feet away from her. “What made you change your mind?” She asked softly.

“You were right. About everything.” She shrugged, biting her lip. She was anxious about the whole situation. Coming to such a conclusion about her feelings and the thought of going back to the town brought more bad memories than good. But also to how her best friend would react. But that was all washed away when she saw the girl smile.

“Can I bring the cats?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping kittens in her bed. Odessa giggled, looking at the pleading smile on her friend's face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, they’ll have more space to grow. Its a better life than here.” She said shrugging.

Antoinette then gasped. “Oh! Now I can get one of those cute wax melt sets so I can’t write back to them.” She smiled excitedly. “Oh, this is gonna be so great!”

Odessa smiled at the girl's excitement. “Now get some sleep, we have some things to sort out before we head up.” That was all she said before she closed the door behind her and made her way back to bed. She let out one final sigh before closing her eyes and letting sleep take her away.

Antoinette smiled at the door as it closed before looking down at the animals at her side. “Ya see, prayers do get answered, guys.” She said, holding up her right hand that was wrapped in her rosary, showing it to the sleeping cats. “Oh, you guys can’t hear me. Or understand me. Or understand religion. I need to go to bed.” She hugged before plopping down onto her pillow with an anxious smile and closing her eyes.

Let me know if you guys like the story and if you’d liked to be added to the taglist!!!

[yuennss]

Tangerine

chapter 1

my first fic!! i love love love chuuya so this fic is for him and this will have an oc i created for the story and my convenience

Haruno, a runaway from China comes to Japan in hopes of escaping an arranged marriage and refuses to have her dreams taken away. The guilt of abandoning everyone at home consumes her, as well as the loneliness that comes with it. One day, she meets a strange man with an indescribable charm to him.

Haruno stared at the orange discolouration of her fingers as she felt it dig into the skin of the juicy fruit she was so fond of. It was like second nature to her, she could peel them as fast as eat them. There was a satisfying pull when the head came off, then she slowly separated a section carefully to avoid the outer layer breaking. It was annoying when the sticky juice pricked her delicate skin. Her favourite part, peeling off the thin, fibrous strands that clung on the pulp. It was like running your fingers over dried glue and peeling it off in one whole piece. Haruno popped the tangerine piece in her mouth and the same, familiar sweet feeling filled her heart with relief. Her eyes found its way to the red box in front of her, she had rushed to open it the moment it arrived from the mail. The vibrant red and gold hues of chinese lettering littered the box, as well as an obviously edited image of a tangerine plastered on the box.

It was the 29th of January. Chinese New Year. This would be how Haruno would spend it for the next couple of years or, maybe even the rest of her life. A week before Chinese New Year, she’d ordered three boxes of tangerines and had them imported to Japan. Afterwards, Haruno would dump the large piles of tangerines in the middle of her dining table and begin ‘celebrating’. A small part of her pitied herself as she couldn’t help but notice the empty chairs around her table. Why did she have to celebrate all by herself? On these days all she could think of were the non-existent presence of her friends and family sitting beside her, cheering loudly for a prosperous new year.

“Someday,” she thought. “I might go crazy.”

She’d chosen this very apartment because of the homely furnishing and cozy layout, but she’d never believe how big and cold of a void she had to fill after coming to Japan all by herself. The first few days were filled with sad attempts at fitting in, comforting herself with the thought of travel. At some point, she’d given up and sat in the empty, unwelcoming apartment quietly. Now, she just needed to wait a week for her interview at a new job.

Haruno’s name isn’t actually ‘Haruno’ but a name she came up with to help blend in with the Japanese. Her real name is 岳银联 (Yue Yin Lian) -each character translated to ‘mountain’, ‘silver’ and ‘unite’. However she saw it as ‘wild mountain anemones’ because anemones in chinese is ‘银联花’. Whereas Haruno (悠埜) is just ‘Haruno’. No last name because, what good would a last name do for a woman without family?

Now chewing her last piece, she swept the tangerine mess to another side of the table and pulled out her laptop swiftly from the bag hanging behind her seat. For no reason at all, she began feeling a sense of guilt as she clicked on one of her tabs. The screen darkened and it showed a file with sketchy details of the new job she was interviewing for. 

“Ding!”

A message popped up at the side of her screen, it was from her teacher.

“新年快乐！Missed me?”

A smile tugged at the end of her mouth.

“Are you free to call me right now?”

Suddenly, a soft ring from her phone came rushing it from her bag as she scurried to pick it up. She hesitated for a while, letting the ring go on a little longer before accepting.

“Why did you ask if you were going to call anyway?” Haruno huffed.

“Because” the other voice continued, “I was going to bother you anyway! Whether you liked it or not.”

“Well, what did you call me for?” Haruno asked the sing-song voice at the other side.

“Are you doing alright, Yin Lian?”

Haruno froze up for a bit. It had been awhile since someone had called her her real name. Since someone had even called her. The voice ringed in her head as she struggled to respond.

“I guess.” Haruno bluntly spat, “Anyways, I wanted to ask about this job you recommended to me.”

“There is,” Haruno continued, “something real… sketchy about it.”

“Ah,” the voice replied “That’s because I chose the perfect job for you.”

“Isn’t it a dojo?” Haruno questioned, now even more skeptical of the man on the other side of the phone, “then why is it showing me the way to some fancy skyscraper?”

“About that…” he gulped, “it’s not a dojo.”

“It’s the Mafia.”

Haruno’s voice cracked and her face went pale. She gripped the phone tightly then breathed in a big mouth of air.

“WHAT?! DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!”

“C-calm down and just listen to me…” the man’s voice pleaded as if a chopstick was stabbed into his right ear.

“I didn’t tell you this because there’s no way you’d agree.” he said, suddenly in a more reassuring tone.

“You’re more than qualified Yin Lian.” He spoke, “Sure, it’ll be dangerous but why are you doubting you and your abilities?”

Before Haruno could argue back the man added, “Plus, what better job than the Mafia for a runaway from such a tight country like China?”

“I-I could die… and what if they don’t hire me?” Haruno mumbled, “what then?”

“An executive there owed me one.” the teacher explained, “I’m almost certain they need skills like yours anyway.”

“I’m sure” he pressed on, “they will protect you as one of their own if you join.”

A bead of cold sweat ran down her forehead as she heard those words. The last sentence just sounded too sweet. A silence dawned on their conversation and the teacher allowed her student to process her thoughts for a while.

“I’ll call you back later so, goodluck alright?” the man said softly, breaking the tense silence. “You can expect the paycheck to match the work.”

The phone fell quiet and Haruno slowly put down her phone to her side. Her eyes wandered into the endless list of text the file displayed. The pay definitely did not disappoint but what was she thinking? What kind of hell dojo paid this much? She would've been suspicious if she took even a few minutes more reading through it instead of skimming through it like a textbook before a surprise test. At that moment, she closed her eyes while recalling one of the lessons her mentor taught her. What comes, goes. So she should always stay calm when it comes and goes. If she let her mind race free, there would be unwanted doubts and feelings that would shroud her resolve. Gradually, she opened her eyes again and slammed the laptop shut. She was going for a run.

[umgeorge]

Russell: "Crazy" F1 2026 top speeds will have safety implications

Mercedes Formula 1 driver George Russell has urged the FIA to look into safety improvements over the "pretty crazy" top speeds the 2026 cars will be capable of.

On Thursday the FIA presented an outline of the all-new 2026 F1 cars, with a bigger emphasis on electric energy and much lower drag and downforce levels. The more slippery cars are projected to be slower through the corners, but faster on the straights than the current machinery, which Russell believes comes with safety implications. "The cars are going to take a quite a big turn, in terms of how they perform," said Russell, also a director of the Grand Prix Drivers' Association that represents the drivers' interests. "They're going to be exceptionally quick in the straights-360 kilometers an hour, probably, at most tracks-which is pretty impressive. Obviously, then, the safety needs to be probably improved, because having a crash at 360, 370 kilometers an hour is going to be pretty crazy." A particular point of concern is what could happen on ultra-fast street circuits like Jeddah and Baku, with Russell urging the rule makers to rethink whether even faster top speeds are really a desired by-product of the 2026 rules shift. "When it comes to safety, unfortunately, history has told us that incidents need to happen before changes are made," he explained. "Everybody needs to do a really thorough job ahead of these regulations, because the cars are going to be so quick. It's going to have so little downforce in the straights, it's almost going to feel like you're just flying through the air. You can imagine in a race that it starts raining and you're on slick tyres, and you're doing 250 miles an hour on a street circuit... That's going to be a bit of a sketchy place to be, so these are questions that need to be answered. To be fair to the FIA, they are fully aware of this and they're on top of this, and they're looking at all of the possible scenarios of what could happen. Time will tell, but the cars are already bloody fast as they are. Where do we stop? Are we going to get up to 400 kilometres an hour? Do the fans really need or want to see this?" Russell felt it would be a shame to lose the high-downforce performance of the current generation of cars, but said it would be a worthy compromise if it means the quality of the racing improves. "From a driving standpoint you want the fastest cars, you want to feel like you're in a fighter jet and in 2020 and 2021 that's how it felt, and now these cars are getting very quick again," he added. "It would be a shame to lose some of that performance of the car. But on the flip side, it will improve the racing if there's less downforce and there's less dirty air. You can't have it all and you've got to choose your battles. What is it that we want to achieve? For me, you want to have good, hard racing, and strong competition, ideally, between every team and every driver."

[tablestoastandtime]

How to Scratch a Record - Multiverse

Just half a one-shot set in my How to Scratch a Record 'verse (which is why I'm tagging Tim). This isn't canon to that verse and a bunch of the little details have changed so don't assume that any specific thing will definitely happen over there, but this concept hasn't left me alone so-

Down the line Jason and other Bats encountering a Batfamily from a universe closer to canon

Multiverse shit was always sketchy. Even at the best of times, with the best possible combinations, it was always weird and a little bit unsafe to have multiple versions of the same person running around. Sure it could lead to really fast problem solving, but it could also lead to some of the worst knock-down drag out fights any particular thunderdome had ever seen.

Jason wasn’t thrilled about having a complete second set of his family on site, was what he was saying. The costumes varied a bit, but it wasn’t that hard to pick out who was who underneath.

What he really didn’t like, was that it was pretty obviously his double dressed to the nines in a leather jacket and shiny red helmet. Jason didn’t want to be Red Hood, and he didn’t like what it said about their world that he was so comfortable in the role.

It didn’t matter, shouldn’t matter. Legacy titles were legacy titles and sometimes people picked them up to pay respect to someone they had valued. Despite their ups and downs, Jason had never wanted anyone to think he didn’t value how much Alvin had done and continued to do for the Alley. If Alvin really ever needed someone to cover for him while he was unavailable for an extended period of time, Jason would at least consider it.

Except. Alvin was a lot of things and stubborn was chief among them. He would never walk away from Gotham, from doing what he thought was right his own way, even when he fucked up. If Alvin Draper wasn’t the Red Hood where these alternates were from then he must not be able to do the work.

Jason didn’t like the thought, like grit caught in his teeth.

To be fair, the feeling seemed to be at least somewhat mutual. The Jason-in-the-Hood had been shooting him stony and clearly assessing glances periodically since they’d arrived, but hadn’t made any attempt to approach. Jason figured it’d be some time in the next twelve minutes or so unless something more pressing came up.

The two Batmen were certainly having fun, if the staredown they hadn’t let up on was any way to judge. Jason was also a little suspicious of how easy it was to tell them apart; his own Bat with navy highlights and yellow accents, armoured to take a bullet and allow for the kind of acrobatics that made him seem half liquid half wraith. The other Bat was all monochromatic blacks and grays, a shadow brought to life and layered with semi-flex plating that looked like it was intended to stop a shell from a tank rather than a shotgun. How he moved Jason sure didn’t know, but he was absolutely certain that whatever this Batman hit went down.

Over at the Batcomputer, in what Jason was pretty sure was a blatant breach of multiversal protocol, the two Tims were huddled over casefiles both on screen and from some kind of tablet the visiting Tim had pulled out. Interesting to see him in a Red Robin suit even with the cowl down, since local Tim was pretty adverse to anything and everything to do with the Red Hood, but maybe he’d stepped into the role to support his Jason after-

Probably not worth speculating on though, not unless he wanted to really get into the nitty gritty of gossip that very likely wouldn’t ever be relevant to him again.

More interesting was the almost identical Batgirl costumes the Casses were wearing. They matched down to some of the semi-decorative stitching and it was frankly more than a little uncanny. Was the design just that good that they’d inadvertently recreated them in some sort of convergent evolution thing, or was the second Batgirl just some kind of multiversal constant? Did Jason even want to know?

Maybe he’d be better off hanging out with the Nightwings. Sure Dickhead could be annoying, but at least they were similar enough to clearly be on the same page about things but not literally indistinguishable. That probably meant they were safe.

“Hang on,” the words from the computer interrupted Jason’s train of thought. Alternate Tim, Red Robin. “If your Jason went straight from Robin to Jayhawk and hasn’t changed since, then who’s the ‘Red Hood’ that keeps turning up in all these cases? And why’s he been operating so long? Don’t tell me the Joker swapped sides and you’ve just been letting him run Crime Alley.”

The temperature dropped.

No one talked about the Joker, not really. Not in years.

To this day, his death was something of a sore point for the original Dynamic Duo. Jason knew where he stood on the matter, but there was no point starting a fight over it, not unless Dick really wanted to push on why he didn’t trust Hood with any of his siblings.

So why did it sound like this other Tim thought the Joker was alive?

Their Tim clicked open the file, and Alvin’s masked face filled the monitor. “The Red Hood, a.k.a. Alvin Draper has been operating for almost a decade now. He started making waves in Crime Alley before debuting officially by murdering the Joker on live television, and ever since he’s been a big player in the Gotham underground. He’ll lend a hand sometimes, but he’ll just as often blow something up to act as a distraction if he doesn’t like an investigation. By day, Draper runs a medical research company with multiple production labs in the city and a prominent IT division that donates labour to small businesses across Gotham. He’s got a good dozen other investments and corporations, most linked to aliases, though that he owns them is an open secret. By most recent estimates, he’s got at least two precincts on his payroll and he and Gordon have been in a kind of cold war about controlling police patrols in his territory for years. Draper is-“

“Not real,” Red Robin interrupted.

“Excuse me?” Their Tim sounded offended, and honestly Jason agreed. Who did this guy think he was deciding who was and wasn’t real?

Apparently even Bruce agreed, finally breaking the stalemate and stepping towards the workstation. “Alvin Draper is very much a real person. He’s been both a help and a hinderance on countless cases, and I’ve personally spoken with him both in and out of costume-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure that’s all true,” Red Robin waved off the sentiments. “I’m not denying that there’s a guy running around doing all of that, but I’m telling you that that’s not a name that belongs to a real person. It’s an alias I’ve been using since I was fourteen. If you’ve got someone claiming to be Alvin Draper on your hands, what you’ve actually got is a Tim Drake that is lying to you.

“And has been for ten years apparently, wow.” Red Robin blinked. “Good for him, I guess, though not so much on the very prolific murder.”

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jason’s double said, dismissive and cold and so fucking sure of himself. “You’re telling me that even across universes you’re stealing my shit? What this guy crossed dimensions and decided to try being a crime lord for the fun of it?”

His words were tacks under Jason’s skin. What the fuck did any of these people know about Alvin?

“You don’t get to talk about him like that,” he snapped. That red helmet caught the glare of the overhead halogens like a warning light.

“Just look at him,” Red Robin waved at the monitor and then back to himself. “That’s literally me in six years and a domino mask. Sure, the beard hides the jawline a bit and I think he’s got some light contour on his cheekbones or something, but it’s not like we don’t know how to recognize someone in a disguise. That’s literally my face.”

Tim grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. “I did notice he kinda looks like me back when I was younger. But I looked into it, and it just turned out he was my dad’s illegitimate brother-”

Bruce stepped closer, getting a hand on Tim’s shoulder and Jason’s gut twisted. “I found those records as well, some of them paper copies down at the city archives with all the hallmarks of original documents-“

“But if we’re looking at an alternate version of Tim Drake,” the Bat in black caught the thought mid-train.  “Then he may very well have planted those records years ago to handle the inevitable questions that would emerge from sharing a face with an actual resident of this universe.”

“Or maybe he just exists here! Maybe that’s the big differentiating factor between our universe and yours; that to you Alvin a lie but here he’s real,” Jason exploded. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. He’d known Alvin for years, grown up with him always there in the background even after they lost touch, Alvin hadn’t been lying to him all that time. Not about something as fundamental as his identity.

Right?

Nightwing, not theirs but the one with the heavier gauntlets and the extra inch of lift in his boots, rolled his shoulders casually. “Well there’s an easy way to find out. Bring him here, grab a few samples, and test not just for the genetic match to the Timbos here, but also for any lingering magic or transdimensional radiation that might suggest he’s not supposed to be here. Anyone got his number?”

All eyes turned to Jason, which he kind of resented. It wasn’t like Cass and Alvin hadn’t gotten close during her run as Red Robin. He was pretty sure they still texted, whereas he and Alvin has been rocky for a long time. He knew he could rely on Hood if he really needed help, but Alvin was always unwilling to push for any kind of closeness and Jason had never quite managed to purge the slimy guilt that came from spending too much time with him. It wasn’t fair that he got to do that when others couldn’t, wasn’t fair that Alvin prioritized his wants and needs when there were people that needed him out there.

He did still have his number, though.

Maybe calling would help, would get Alvin in here and he could prove that he wasn’t secretly Tim Drake and this was all a big misunderstanding. He could be a Martian in deep cover or something, or he was a rapidly aged clone, or maybe he was just a guy who looked kind of similar to Tim.

Maybe he hadn’t lied to Jason.

There really was only one good way to find out. So he pulled out his phone and dialed.

Maybe it was going to be okay.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Happy WBW! What does second-hand shopping look like in your world? (thrift stores, online marketplace platforms, word of mouth, that kind of thing!)

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! Thanks for the Ask, @writernopal!

This is a very interesting question.

In Agrannor, most clothing (and every other product one can buy) is found in the many bazaars or marketplaces spread throughout the continent, and depending on the quality or time spent on a certain piece the price obviously varies.

The actual practice of second-hand shopping happens in these places. People usually sell things that they do not need anymore to vendors/shops in the bazaars, who in turn sell these products at a lower price to their customers.

Situations that could lead to vendors acquiring second-hand products are plentiful.

This can happen either because the wife of a rich merchant was moving out and decided to give away pieces she had not used in a lifetime - and since she knew the craftsmanship in those dresses had to be appreciated, she donates them to the local bazaar.

Or someone impoverished might have no other choice but to sell/pawn off their belongings to a sketchy vendor in exchange for gold to buy medicine or food (Zephyr did this many times in the years he and his brother were street kids after the war)

Either way, the second-hand business is always thriving in Agrannor. And while some of the vendors pride themselves on only having the finest, first-hand products on the market, there are many more others that sell all kinds of things and wouldn't mind a good second-hand product.

However, when it comes to clothing, it is still worth noting that in the continent, many people know and prefer to make their own clothes and only resort to buying (either first-hand or second-hand) if they want to. Some richer families have personal seamstresses and tailors to fashion them the finest gowns according to the current trends. Commoners - male and female alike - usually mend their clothes by themselves, as well as sew their own attires. (Personalized attires made by talented seamstresses and tailors are heavily sought after as second-hand products)

Merchants, vendors, and oftentimes the entirety of the bazaars often depend on their reputation and the quality of their products, so that word about their services can spread fast, often striving for the upkeep of their image and status. So, word of mouth is pretty vital for these services in the continent - be it for a vendor looking to have more clients or someone just looking for the best place to buy something of quality at a good bargain. A trustworthy salesman's shop is always thriving.

[crownedinmarigolds]

**PLEASE NOTE: The prices have been changed as of 01/26/2025. These prices are no longer accurate to what I am charging!**

Hello all! My commissions are being re-opened after my lil summer step-away! Thank you to everyone who has previously commissioned me or wants to commission me, you all mean the world to me and I'm so grateful! I had a super great break and am ready to get back to the grind! ~ ~ ~ Updated information for post break - I am officially using KO-FI's commission tab to keep track of how many slots I have for each type, as well as occasionally introduce a different style or so if I feel like it/come up with one. This is to make things easier for me in regards to tracking, and to make things more visible to you all so you know how busy or available I may be!

My quick sketch commissions are always open on my KO-FI!

Prices may slightly vary depending on specific details, but that is something we can discuss in private. The prices shown are pretty solidly what I will charge!

PLEASE NOTE: I will not start work until payment is made.

The prices include the character + a simple background color/texture chosen by me unless otherwise requested by you. The group portraits will require a bit more in-depth discussion - such as if you don't want them just standing together and want them to be doing something as a group. That may change the price slightly depending on what they're up to. If you'd like to add a specific background, we can talk about that as well! I keep you very up to date through most of the process, and I have a few extra rounds of concept sketches prepared if needed for larger portraits.

Disclaimers: I have a very sketchy and not 100% clean art style, so please expect that in the finished product! I am absolutely down for not safe for work scenes or subjects like sex, violence, blood, etc - but obviously the more gross end of the spectrum I won't touch. That can be discussed in private! I am not very good at drawing mechs, cars, or animals, so while you can ask me to, I may deny it just to ensure you don't get a subpar final drawing.

Also, I work full time and am a wife and mother! I like to think I'm fast and incredibly attentive but just please be respectful that I may have to step away to take care of my family. I have to save drawing for after I am off work and when my child is asleep. Here is my usual schedule for doing commission work.

If you'd like to commission me, go ahead and grab your slot through my KO-FI. Feel free to also send me a direct message through Tumblr or email me at ladyofsilks@gmail.com! Just noting again, I am using KO-FI to keep track of the slots taken and to keep all my record-keeping in one place. If you miss the window for a slot, I can of course write your idea and information down and inform you when I'm about to open slots again. You will be getting concept sketches, updates as I go, and of course the high res copy of your image at the very end. I would ask that you speak with me before using my work for public use or on paid programming. Otherwise, these images are yours and you feel free to use them as you please!

I am on KO-FI, and here is my Art Tumblr Tag for more examples of my work!

Thank you all so much!!

[writer59january13]

Deep purple outcast Earthling...

Finds living social brutal, an impossible mission among an alien nation of nasty trumpeting sore losers, who don their heads periwigged with orange coiffure emulating, looking, and ululating trolls bemoaning the existence of hashtagged second class citizens such as yours truly, a genetic anomaly whose misconstrued physique (mine), an innocent married sexagenarian, whose predilection towards stranger things (that go bump in the night) experienced being character assassinated, electronically besmirched, and forever crucified for claiming to be divine creator reincarnate attested by scars evincing severe puncture wounds (courtesy sharp stake) to palms of each hand, where river of blood coagulated upon emaciated body electric, yet never totally extinguishing unbridled spirit.  Abandonment at birth courtesy young unwed mother of mine found her set beet red, gangly and scraggly newborn within basket - case there might happen by the boulevard of broken dreams, an altruistic, deterministic, humanistic, maternalistic, spiritualistic, and zootheistic good samaritan (and a nice Jewish man to boot - ha), which wayfaring stranger from a stranger land or maybe even an extraterrestrial channeler from amidst dark shadows hoovering within outer limits of the twilight zone, whereby said nebulous Gaia the Greek goddess of Earth, mother of all life, similar to the Roman Terra Mater (mother Earth) reclining with a cornucopia, or the Andean Pachamama, the Hindu, Prithvi, “the Vast One,” or the Hopi Kokyangwuti, Spider Grandmother, who with Sun god Tawa created Earth and its creatures. Fast forward sixty five years to the present where wedded bliss eludes a wordsmith envisioning being whisked away (with a half sashay, and a do-si-do) at light speed to accompany other worldly species as interstellar travel fine companion to hopskotch across the universe despite obvious and immediate language barrier, and essential species difference gnome matter said cosmic dust rendered myself and other entity divergent organisms prone to eye each other with at least one characteristic aberration, barbarization, elucidation, fascination, intercommunication, jubilation, melodramatization, nonconfrontation, et cetera.

Upon surrendering this self hypnotized faux yes ("FAKE") Earthing, I noticed nothing amiss (which temporary state of transcendent bliss twice daily meditation strives to attain), ah...before you dismiss a non "FAKE" claim lemme juiced apprise ye with a very brief hiss tour re:, how this generally outlandish (long gush fellow) doth wanna kiss hippy, cheeky and buddy UFO's (with chess a bot of errant knightly - je ne sais quois finesse, Oh Henri Matisse - yea artfully add a touch of Swiss obviously predominantly French laced politesse), though up pawn occasion this lousy manque non rook key mutant doth miss long disused subtle social cues, cuz I still feel asper (in) a human aberration always felt like an outcast in an alien nation even though born on Mars, (a distinct honorable station), yet resided on third rock from the sun what seems like forever damnation yours truly experienced abolition against supposed invaders from outer space, and essentially targeted, kindled, and bullied on par like an abomination, no surprise while attempting to escape being walled din, and trumped "illegal" accusation crackled, snapped, and popped with abjection, your honor (forgot to mention earlier got picked up mistaken as invitation from outer space by a kid prized as some sophisticated surveillance drone), within a sketchy section of town, and must avoid acquisition by mad scientists (employed by NASA), who will undoubtedly take immediate action and disassemble me (carefully as if dismantling Bono fide atomic bomb), hence activation must be established pronto against administration, sans powerful GMO firearm, emitting disinformation (mine defense of last resort) will definitely signal to nemesis furthering my aggravation, and Putin this webbed, whirled, and wired woebegone wysiwyg at risk.

I ably, eagerly, readily, and willingly roll out the Scottish Tartan mat in an honest to dog effort to be removed (ofttimes experiencing chilblains as persona non grata) as soon as possible off a planet chock a block teeming with billions of anglocentric, eccentric, egocentric, humancentric, phallogocentric, et cetera bumping uglies during three hundred and sixty five days (one additional twenty four hour period occurring every leap year), self absorbed in satisfying basic instinct to procreate despite overpopulation imposing immense stress upon oblate spheroid analogous to spinning wheel (threading thru Milky Way galaxy) across variable cosmic tapestry in the sky that keeps on turnin.'

How curious to embark on long day's journey into night where experiencing inescapable gentle tug of black hole's gravitational pull extends indefinitely, but its strength diminishes with distance subsequently the gravitational force from a black hole can be felt from any distance, but it becomes weaker the farther you are from the black hole, therefore no specific "cut-off" distance for its gravitational influence, but it becomes negligible at large distances, just like any other massive object in space.

Beginner's luck found yours truly (me) honored and privileged to become linkedin with space travel endeavor, which global enterprise incorporated representative ace cadets inured to the rigorous regimen of zero gravity. An exceptional solo flight to Mars on a lark, (a summer vacation experienced many years before as an audacious, capricious, and precocious adolescent and native Martian to boot), who stealthily boarded the sleek and sophisticated state of the art missile, (which stood ready to be launched at a moment's notice) did notch prospects and counted as figurative feather in my cap considerably increasing prospect to voyage into the realm when the space/time continuum burst with a big chitty chitty bang bang, when entering the spatial sweepstakes for a one way ticket to witness the beginning formation of galaxies.

Even though an aerospace engineer with an assignment in top secret government project to sendd an unmanned rocket to the red planet, (the intention to scramble aboard the massive satellite required careful planning over the course of many months), I lacked particular knowledge about entering hatchways, which would allow, enable, and provide easy access to enter the control center.

Company policy frowns on interaction between one department and another issued special badges (even with the most restrictive clearance) to minimize espionage and sabotage, and/or the selling of vital information to a competitor particularly Russia, many other countries that comprise the Soviet Bloc, and even China.

In an effort to obtain vital information for redacted reports mentioning (or even alluding) to general data points about said undertaking, I won over any skepticism on behalf of chief executive officers (and their ilk) with a sincere concern the normal wear and tear of the components at structural junctures subject to excessive metal fatigue.

With the aid of latest computer hardware and software, the graphical user images on the screen showed every square inch of each module, which electronic schematics could be rotated three hundred and sixty degrees in at least (but not limited to) three dimensional arrangement. Upon request, a permit became available for me to scrutinize the actual entire multistage proud product at various stages of completion utilizing digital camera, hand held tablet, and latest implements of the trade notating courtesy diagram and description any questionable site that cast a dark shadow of doubt for a successful thrust of mother ship into deep space nine. Lest any tell tale signs signs of an independent research enterprise betrayed my true where-abouts and/or ulterior motives, an undisclosed pricey retreat someplace in the tropics constituted the solee extent for my explanation at a long term leave of absence, which got corroborated courtesy revamped computer program responsible for monitoring surveillance in the far fetched event some intelligent living social alien life source ransacked premises.

As the day of lift off approached, an stepped up increase in preparations for my lengthy surreptitious stay in space took place. Tucked away in frequently overlooked nooks and crannies behind innocuous panels stood cannistors of food, me books and telecommunications devices, aa high powered microscope and writing material as back up medium. All those months blankly staring at least one, (but ofttimes many more) monitor screens, thumbing thru technical reports, and quite a few unobserved practice dry runs (to familiarize and adequately prepare me with the real test) witnessed perfect blast off without a hitch into the infinite azure sky, more so the color of an inky abyss as millions of miles jettisoned yours truly permanently away from nearly totally traumatized Earth. Even with the aid of a seatbelt and shoulder strap, the powerful shocked thrust from the forced propulsion heavily bore down against my forehead and created the sensation of being flattened by a steamroller, but once outside the powerful force of the planetary pull, I experienced a lightness of being. Arms and legs floated up as if I owned no control (to major Tom) over them.

From recent maneuvers in a simulated environment of weightlessness at the Astronaut Training Center (ATC for short), a place about halfway to the moon available to all employees who thought to relocate to of of a dirty dozen deeded deployment destinations strategically strewn across a trafficked trajectory.

Although usually considered unwise to bounce around in a free form fashion within a traditional sized room without a strong rope tied around the waist and affixed to a secure anchoring post, or donning suction shoes, the cubicle housing makeshift main headquarters the exception to aforementioned rule, which cramped area not specifically designed to carry a passenger (unless excursionist qualified as an authentic midget) offered slight breathing space to average sized person excellent at being a contortionist.

Anything I wanted could be obtained within arms length. Most of the intervening hours whiled away found yours truly (me) adopting meditative pose, whereby a certain serenity pervaded throughout my entire trek into the outer limits of the twilight zone lulled into mental, physical, and spiritual quiescence courtesy absolute zero sound, nary a whine of engine disrupted hypnotic trancelike state. Within the immediate moments after blastoff, the third rock from the sun (home to multitudinous species of life that proliferated despite impact of Homo sapiens upon all animals and plants exhibiting wanton exploitation of fauna and flora to buzzfeed the capital one promulgation of industrialization) instantaneously receded into a pinprick of light before blinking out altogether, which inky blackness suddenly pronounced, accentuated, underlining austere beauty of the cosmos.

[thisiswasabis]

YES! YES!

So lately I was thinking about the way I going to show death scenes in NoP. I almost always new I don't want any impornant part of the cast to die, but the terrible thing in war is all the things and people we loose in it. So, obviously, some sacrifices had to be done.

But there's was one problem. I have gore and I extremely uncomfortable with death, especially with my kinda traumatic that I would rather not share right now.

So, the only logical solution to this was to in an artistic way

My first thought was to make scene where, for ex.,: someone is shooting the other person dead in black and white, lineless artstyle

But, a quite long time later something came to mind: what if the damage, both physical and emotional, would effect the artstyle or even completly change it?

Like when someone dies, how does it feel for the person frome the side? Is the time slowes down? Or maybe it's moving too fast? In any sound coming through to them? Can I show it in art?

So I started coming out with the ideas.

I was thinking about using some sort of mixed media to achive this effect. Like really bad, sketchy animation for when a character's thoughts are a mess and their head feels like it was about to spilt in half (look up illynimation to get the visual idea) , or the aquarelle painting for memories

"Loving Vincent", 2017 ↑

or many, many different artstyles in very fast movetion when a character reaches their breaking point

It's all interesting ideas I have for this, but I have a quite few ideas about other aesthetics of the series that I would love to imply in NoP

Do you wanna hear me yap about NoP a bit?

👉👈 It's okay if you're not in the mood for this or don't want to, I understand :<

YEAH

[wannaeatramyeon]

OMG UR RECENT ZACK LEE WORK IS SO GOOD I NEED MORE PLS AND YES WE LOVE ZACK !!!!! i love the other boys as well but zack hits diff esp bcz he’s one of the first characters introduced 🥹

Ty!! i'm glad you liked the last Zack piece! AGREED he def hits different, part of the OG group, just makes me feel a bit nostalgic for the simpler times. How about some Lookism boys first date HC? Including my faves as well of course

Lookism First Date HC

(Zack, Goo, Gun, Samuel, Jake, Johan - a lengthier Vasco gen + romantic hc here)

Zack Lee

Classic movie and coffee/meal guy (as seen with Mira)

Honestly probably the only guy that would opt for the typical teenage stuff (which isn't a criticism!!)

Will absolutely dress up and style his hair (also as seen with Mira)

But give him absolute and complete free rein? Would LOVE cheesy and domestic shit

Matching outfits, tandem bikes, couples cooking lessons, tour of Seoul so he gets to experience everything with you, farmers market, reenacting home life in IKEA (like 500 days of summer if you've seen it)

Builds up a lot of it in his head but tbh doesn't even care. Just spending time with you? On your own? <3

Would literally want to do anything and everything with you

Goo Kim

Theme/amusement park

Thrill seeking and high-energy to suit this blonde

Tbh a bit too much for a first date as it's an ALL DAY EVENT, but Goo's a bit much anyway

Face paint, character ears, character costumes - he would happily do the whole thing. Think Vasco at Notte World.

A little bit of cash flashing with fast passes and whatever bribery required to get to the front of the queue

Takes a LOT of pictures. More of the mascots and place than you two though

Buying and feeding you all the fun character foods + snacks

Gun Park

Spa. He is so high-end, exclusive, full spa experience

The downtimes we've see him with Goo are surprisingly chill and matches Gun's vibe more than Goo's

Jacuzzis, hot tubs, saunas, steam rooms, massages, manis, pedis - literally anything and everything so you're a puddle at the end of it

Uses it as an opportunity to relax as much as to get to know you

He appreciates a good body, but doesn't check you out as much as you expect and NOWHERE NEAR as much as you eye him up

Keeps his sunglasses on the whole time

Samuel Seo

Tell me this guy wouldn't be out to impress

Completely dressed up, flowers, chauffeur

And there's no way you would be paying for anything at all. He'll even pay for your shopping trip for the date outfit.

Books the most exclusive restaurant in town. Not just that, either opts for a private room or just books the whole place out just for you two

Definitely will involve a helicopter - either to get you A to B, or a night time tour of the city

Will definitely put out on a first date (no judgement). This man exudes sex, let's be honest

Jake Kim

Night time drive and stargazing

Look this might sound sketchy as hell for a first date but it's Jake, he's not a stranger

You already know him but this is your first official date. You both can talk to each other without the chaos of Big Deal and revel in the peace

Super intimate and surprisingly romantic. It's soft and comfortable, he'll be making you laugh a lot

Will take you to a non-sleazy lookout point to look at the stars and maybe share a beer

It's easier for him to be vulnerable with you especially under the cloak of night

Johan Seong

Hiking or picnic or just walking around a park

If this is a first date there is no way that Eden and Miro aren't coming along

The pups might know you already, but this is a big milestone and it needs to involve his babies

Awkward but so endearing. Very skittish. He's not familiar with this sort of situation and blushes a LOT

Absolutely rubbish at small talk or making the first move - you can tell he obviously wants to and likes you though

You best make the first moves unless you want to tiptoe around forever