#don't think i like the colouring but whatever

[prlssprfctn]

Being Robin is an art, in a way. It is hard, and it is always about keeping a balance — being graceful as a cat and yet, hold a power of a lion. Being flashy in all these colourful patterns and, at the same time, completely invisible for enemies.

When Bruce picks up Jason, he thinks he will need some extra training. He doesn't expect Jason, a street kid, to have the same mannerism Dick, the child of the circus, had. And he doesn't - not fully, at least - but the way Jason just... disappears in a way, making himself stealthy and invisible, is incredible. It is natural.

(It is... a talent?)

He is so great that sometimes Alfred and Bruce don't notice him until he wants them to notice him!

'You are good at this, chump,' Bruce compliments him once.

Jason tilts his head, seemingly confused.

'Huh?'

'Enemies never notice you, despite how bright your suit is,' Bruce points out proudly. 'Even I fail to find you in the room sometimes.'

Jason lets out a quiet "a-ah" in realisation and just shrugs.

He is always so humble, this kid.

Red Hood is not exactly humble. He knows his worth. He doesn't fail to remind others of his superior trainings or to mock the weakness of his enemies. But even he refuses to accept this exact compliment.

Why, though? He is tall, bulky — double-fridge, really — and his armour is bright red, and still... and still, people fail to notice his presence most of the time. Isn't it just great?

'Despite how huge you are, you are stealthy enough to match the style of my assassins,' Talia tells him; she is not exactly as beaming as Bruce was, but there is still a hint of respect in her voice. 'It is impressive. Though, I don't appreciate being caught off the guard.'

Jason huffs.

'Yeah, alright. Put a bell on my neck or something — it is not like I am trying to scare you.'

Talia tilts her head but doesn't comment further.

At that moment, Jason fears she knows. She knows exactly why he never accepts these kinds of compliments or where this skill comes from.

'You know, when I first got into Robin suit, Bruce said that he knew someone, who was as good at being invisible on the streets as me,' Stephanie tells him once, when they sit on the coach of the living room, waiting for others to return from the kitchen. 'Never figured out he was talking about you until I saw you scaring the shit out of others by your random appearances.'

Jason hums.

'Crime Alley kids' thing, am I right?' She elbows him, half-amused, half-bitter.

And Jason thinks, yeah. Exactly that.

Because it was never natural for him to take no place in the world — he just taught himself how to. How to make no sound, how not to irritate some men, who gradually got drunker during the day, while passing by the same streets, how to keep himself safe by being an empty space. People can't get angry if they don't see you. They can't kick you out, either.

(He perfected this skill so much that at some point he embraced this emptiness, right after his death. So, maybe it was his fault that Bruce scrapped away everything that was left of him, maybe-)

'Let them think that it is a talent,' he advises, instead.

Whatever makes you look valuable enough, his inner voice adds helpfully. Whatever makes you special to be kept around.

'Yeah. Sounds good to me.'

Jason hasn't lived on the streets for decades now, but he never grew up its habits. He doesn't think he ever will.

And it is... fine.

Because that is just who he is. Who he always was.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: my head is fucked

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more���. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy brings you breakfast in bed. You can't help but feel the guilt rippling off him. All of this is penance on his part. 

It's as close to vindication as you'll get. You're mother would never admit what she did, let alone apologise. That's when you see her again. You're not so sure you ever want to. 

The world is distant. It doesn't feel quite real. It's like a dream. The edges aren't quite sharp enough and the colours are cloudy. 

You look down at the plate and your stomach grumbles out of basic need. You don't have much appetite but your biology is at a constant battle with your mind. You shouldn't be able to breathe but you are, you should take your meds but you don't feel all that different.  

A poached egg, whole wheat toast, turkey bacons, and thick greek yogurt with fruit. It's all very healthy but a bit more than you would eat, when you feel up to it. Your breakfasts are a hard-boiled egg or a small cup of hot oats and milk. 

"I hope it's okay," he hovers at the foot of the bed. He's dressed already. You're less than put together. You're still groggy from a grief-laden sleep and the hangover of the bitter revelation. You wear his borrowed shirt and gym shorts, your messy hair untamed despite your efforts.  

"I called in to the office. I don't think I could focus of I tried," he explains. "And there's too much to be done here." 

"There is?" You nibble the toast. 

You'd hoped for some time alone. Not to think, just to be. You're still lost in all of this. The anger, the hurt, the regret, the confusion, and shame... 

"Sweetie, you don't have any clothes. I have a spare toothbrush for you but it's a travel one from a hotel. And you'll need everything else, right? Soaps and whatever." 

"Oh, I... I don't... my mom has all my money..." you utter and deflate again. You put down the toast. Your stomach is roaring but you just want to puke again.  

"I'll deal with that. Don't worry. She's not as clever as she thinks." He puts his hands on his hips. He does that when he's upset. He used to argue with your mom and stand like that. "Please, eat. Your clothes should be dry soon." 

"My clothes?" 

"I threw them in the wash for you--" his sentence is punctured by the doorbell. His jaw ticks. "I'll deal with that. Probably Mrs. Potter trying to give me more casserole." 

He leaves and you put your focus on the plate. You shouldn't just eat because you're hungry, you should eat because he went to all this effort. You pick up a slice of toast and break through the soft yolk. 

You eat deliberately. Chewing slowly, methodically. A shrill yowl tightens your throat around a swallow. You know that shriek. 

You carefully slide the tray forward and balance it on the legs as you angle out from beneath. You go to the window and try to see past the eaves and awning. You can't. Only the police cruiser and a familiar car... 

You listen. The noise wafts in from the bedroom door. You follow it and peer down at the front door. It's muffled but clearly coming from the porch. 

You twist the handle nervously and open the door a crack. You can't see past Andy as he stands staunchly on the mat, arms crossed. You glance an officer's belt with the radio attached and your mother's snarl lashes you like a barb. 

"He has my daughter. She's sick--" 

"She's an adult," Andy insists. "I'm not holding her against her will." 

"She can't-- I am her legal guardian. She can't be here on free will, genius." 

"Ma'am," a stern female voice warns. "Sir, where is the daughter?" 

"She's sleeping." He lies. 

You let the door fall inward. You don't want to be in trouble. No one seems to notice. You stall and shiver on the threshold. It isn't cold, you're just scared. 

You make yourself step out. There's not much room. As Andy stands like a wall. You peek around him. 

"Hi," you murmur. 

"My baby," your mother throws her hands up and comes forward. Andy moves to block her. "You can't keep me from my girl-- where is her oxygen? Officers, she needs air!" 

“No, I don’t,” you say, quiet but firm. 

Your mother flinches but doesn’t relent, “he’s manipulated her. I can call the doctor right now and you’ll see. She hasn’t been without her tank in years. She could die--” 

“That’s not true,” you murmur. 

“Ma’am,” the female officer warns. “Let her speak.” 

You look around with wide eyes, taking in the full scene. Andy stands just behind you, you can hear him exhale. A male officer is on the other side of your mother. You open your mouth then shut it. 

“Sweetie,” your mother reaches for you and you shy away. 

“Alright, Jackson, you stay here, I’m going to talk to her. Alone,” the female officer says. She reaches out and waves you to her delicately. “You wanna come with me? We can talk. Just you and me.” 

You gulp and look at Andy. His blue eyes blaze as he meets your gaze. He dips his chin slightly. You turn back and nod. As you cross the porch, your mother tries to latch onto you. The other officer, Jackson, pulls her back. 

You sidle past her and follow the woman. She takes you to the curb. You look down at your bare feet then at her. 

“I’m Officer Patel. What’s your name?” She asks. 

You answer and she shifts so you can’t see the house. “Me and my partner came because we got a call about a possible abduction. We’re just here to hear the full story. What’s going on here?” 

You rub your neck and fidget. You can’t tell her the truth. Not the full truth. You can’t tell her your mom lied to you. Not even that she hit you. You don’t want to go back to court. You don’t want to tell everyone how stupid and pathetic you are. 

“I’m here.... because I want to be,” you shrug. 

“Your mother says there was an argument.” 

You chew your lip, “she couldn’t find her pills. She left. I don't know... I don’t know why she came back.” Your chin trembles and you clasp your hands on your shirt hem. You sway back and forth. “She doesn’t love me.” 

You hang your head. That’s it. What you always knew deep down. What’s so clear now that she’s ground you into dust. You’re nothing to her so she made you into nothing at all. 

“She’s your mom, I’m sure you two will work this out. Me and my partner are just making sure you’re safe. We were told that man is keeping you here without consent.” 

You flinch and shake your head furiously. You wave your hands, “no, no. Andy... Andy helped me and... I shouldn’t be here because... because... because I’m a loser and.... my mom... my mom...” you stutter. “She doesn’t want me.” 

“She says you’re sick? You need oxygen?” She prompts. 

You twiddle your fingers. “No, not really. Not... all the time. I can breathe, see?” 

She watches you, “right. How old are you, miss?” 

“Twenty-four.” 

She nods. “You’re not a minor?” 

“No,” you blurt out. Many assume as much, especially with you always hiding behind your mom. “No, I’m an... adult.” 

“Do you want to press charges against anyone?” 

“Charges? For what?” You wonder. 

She sighs. “You’re free to go. You’re grown up and you can make your own choices without mom.” She tuts and turns to look across the lawn, “Jackson, come on.” 

You peer over. Andy stands, arms crossed, staring at you. Your mother rears like a snake, muttering under her breath. You head back up the walk and Officer Patel speaks again. 

“You have to leave, Ma’am.” 

You stop and peek over your shoulder. Patel points to your mother, “we will escort you if need be.” 

Jackson looks at her. She snarls and stomps her foot, “oh don’t you even think of touching me.” She huffs and storms past him. She comes down the steps and you think for an instant, she might push you. She stops beside you. “I took care of you, sweetie. Do you think he will for long? After he figures out what you are?” 

She continues past you. You continue up the paved squares and past Officer Jackson as he follows. As you come up to the steps, you hear the engines turn over. You’re suddenly very tired. 

���Andy,” you drag your feet over the mat. “I want to lay down.” 

“Alright, honey. We’ll sort everything out later,” he turns and stretches his arm across the door frame as you enter.  

He shuts the door as you stagger on, eyes hazy with tears. Your own mother despises you. She’s right about him too. He’ll hate you one day but you don’t know what to do to change any of this. 

💙

Andy makes you finish breakfast before you lay down. He’s right. It’s good for you to eat and you haven’t been doing a lot of that. 

You lay down for an hour before you sense him getting restless. You can hear him downstairs. You can’t be lazy. You don’t have any excuses anymore. You’re not sick, just weak. 

You make yourself get up and venture downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, flicking through his phone as it rests on the counter. You clear your throat and wring your hands as you enter. 

“I’m sorry. I was upset. It’s really stupid but sometimes I just... can’t do anything. Even if I try. I’m sorry, Andy. I’m... so sorry.” 

He faces you and his face contorts in a spectrum of emotion, “oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I put your clothes on the couch for you. Just waiting. Take your time.” 

“Waiting for me,” you frown and look at the floor. “My mom lied. A lot. But I don’t think she was wrong about everything.” 

“What do you mean?” He shifts closer. 

You shrug, “me. I’m... I’m useless.” 

“No,” his voice hardens. “No, take it back.” 

“What?” You pout and bat your eyes as you peek up at him. 

“You’re not going to talk about yourself like that. Not with me. So take it back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry--” 

“Apologise to yourself,” he insists staunchly. “Honey, don’t let her control you. She’s gone.” 

“But... but...” 

“You’re adjusting. I understand that. I’m not expecting you to be okay right now. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with me. We’re both... figuring this out.” 

You nod and your lips twitch. You could cry. 

“Thanks, er, I’ll... change then. Um, Andy... are we going somewhere?” 

“Sure, sweetheart. I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? About clothes? I tried to get the officers to agree to an escort to go to your mom’s but you saw her. She’s not in her right mind,” he explains. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you flutter your fingers nervously and he looks down at them. You clasp them over your chest to make them stop. “I’ll hurry up then.” 

You turn and scurry out. You go into the front room and grab the neatly folded clothes. He keeps everything so tidy and in its place. You go to the bathroom and set it on the counter. 

As you take your panties from between the jeans and tee shirt, you hesitate. It’s a bit embarrassing to think of him washing your underwear. You could’ve done it if he showed you where the machines are. 

You shrug it off. You’re just happy he helped. It’s a nice feeling when people do things for you. 

You change and bring out the borrowed clothes. Andy is still in the kitchen. You stand in the doorway. 

“Where do I put these?” You ask. 

He pops his head up and tucks away his phone, “oh, I can take care of them.” 

“Thanks, Andy, but uh, could I see? I’d like to know where everything is so I can help.” 

“Help?” He approaches and takes the clothes, his hands brushing over yours. “With what?” 

“I don’t know, everything?” You say. “You helped me so much and I want to do the same. I want to be useful. I want to be... better.” 

The tension leaves his shoulder and he smiles. “Alright, sure, that’s nice of you.” He goes to step past you then stops. “Sweetheart, you know, your mom is wrong. About everything. You’re an amazing girl. Really, you’re wonderful. And today, I want you to try as much as you can to forget. I want you to feel good about you, because you should. Because you deserve it.” 

You swallow and bounce nervously on your feet, “Andy, you’re so nice.” 

“I’m just being honest. Should’ve tried that a lot sooner,” he says. 

[irazai]

─▸ ONE LAST TIME ; osamu dazai x fem!reader

masterlist. prev. next.

03 ❝ MY HEART BEATS AGAIN ❞

"don't say that silly," dazai whispers as he tries to keep his carefree expression on his face, trying not to show how sad he feels. "don't say you won't take my name ever."

he smiles as he looks down to pick on the fabric of his pants, trying to keep himself grounded to reality. to not do something in the high of his emotions which he will regret later.

he has good control over his emotions. he really does.

but once in a while even he can't control how he feels when life drags him by his neck and tells him, look, all the people around you are moving on just fine. why can't you? why are you still so ugly inside?

today this statement came in the form of you and your daughter, he thinks she is no older then four because he left when you were pregnant. actually, on the day you told him you were.

he was doing something with atsushi, probably some small errands regarding documents because lord, there are alot. especially since they caught dostoyvesky.

the younger boy was telling him how fascinating their jobs are — the government unit handling the paperwork — when dazai's eyes averted to a point of the bustling street ahead to see you.

it is you. he didn't need to second guess because your face is engrained in his veins, your features flow through his spinal fluid every night to make sure he doesn't forget you. his support system. he thinks he might love you. or maybe it was the teenage romance which was so thrilling for a while?

you two aren't teenagers anymore. one glance down to see who you were looking at and dazai feels as if someone jerked him roughly. the little baby (she may not be a baby anymore but to dazai who missed her baby years, she is) is definitely his. that shade of brown hair is one he is familiar with after all. it belongs to him.

you were listening to something she was saying, the baby was excited, jumping lightly on her feet as she exclaimed whatever caught her interest. dazai nearly smiled at the sight.

he walked past you two, without you knowing he was there. at all. because people like him don't get to stay in your presence for long, he is afraid he will taint your light.

there was a small 'oh, i left them' kind of feeling at first. mostly he was giddy at seeing you, he wanted to laugh and dance.

then the way you slowly took over his mind happened very slowly, really.

he remembers coming back to the agency and stretching his arms over his head while atsushi told kunikida their task is done. as they talked (and between comments from kunikida who looks annoyed like usual), it suddenly occurred to dazai if you still liked dates on the beach.

oh well, who knows? maybe you moved on.

then as he sat on his chair or laid his head on his desk, he began to wonder more and more. his thoughts drifted to the baby. how would she sound like? is she like him or more like you? what's her favorite colour?

he's in a daze, as if his body is being controlled by someone else when he stands up all too suddenly. startling atsushi who was infront of him.

what excuse did he mutter to kunikida? he doesn't remember as he leaves the building in a hurry. he walks over to the street he saw you and your daughter on but you two aren't there anymore obviously.

this is where it dawns on him that he isn't a part of your or her life. he should not be so happy upon seeing you, you will definitely not be happy to see him.

it is now that he actually realises you aren't chuuya or the mafia or anyone else in his life. you are an average citizen. him leaving isn't something you will treat lightly. you aren't fucked up like them.

like him.

he blinks as a kid runs past him, to think his own might do it someday. unaware that who she passed is her own father.

this is a very uncomfortable realisation. he forgot about the kid and now when he remembers her, he is aware she might forget him.

this cluster of emotions leads him to bar lupin. not because it was close to where he is or anything. but because here is the comforting lingering presence of oda.

he drinks and drinks, orders drinks upon drinks to drown and float under the influence of alcohol.

laying his head on the bar table, dazai drunkly mumbles to himself, "what if she forgot me too? but why can't she? never gave her a reason to remember me."

dazai sighs, "but still. she loves me right? she won't forget me right?" he asks to no one in particular. "what if she does?"

dazai doesn't really have regrets, he is made up of them but he knows how to ignore them well (the smaller ones, he is really attending to the bigger ones) and you weren't a big regret or that's what he used to think.

while he has no desire of meeting you again for your sake (he thinks it's better if you move on from a piece of shit like him, he doesn't want you to hurt more because of him), something in him changed when he saw you and his daughter.

the sudden urge to meet you, the sudden craving to hold his daughter, to tell you how he feels as if he isn't real sometimes, to ask you how you have been till now is strong.

it's so strong, so unbearable. not even alcohol is able to suppress this urge. so he sits straight to think of a plan, an ideal situation which he can play off as coincidence while also pondering if this is actually a good idea or not.

he is selfish. he wishes you to move forwards but he doesn't at the same time.

this man, as a lover, is a walking contradiction.

what if you aren't happy when you two finally meet? if you are angry, he can handle it but what if you pretend to forget him? (pretend because he knows you can't forget him like he can't forget you.)

what if you do anyway?

he doesn't want you to forget him, the way you softly say his name, how your eyes soften when you looked at him, how you smiled when you saw him. he doesn't want you to forget him.

drunk mind weaves his memories of you into a person, a hallucination of you. a you who refuses to call him 'osamu' or even dazai. calling him, 'detective' instead.

"don't say that silly," dazai whispers as he tries to keep his carefree expression on his face, trying not to show how sad he feels. "don't say you won't take my name ever."

he can feel eyes on him from the nearby customers, they should not be judging a drunk guy who is drowning in his misery. alas they are, so he has no choice but hold his sanity and composure in shaky hands.

he smiles as he looks down to pick on the fabric of his pants, trying to keep himself grounded to reality. to not do something in the high of his emotions which he will regret later.

dazai makes a decision.

[nick-nellson]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 2.08 And That's the End of It. There's Nothing Else

[hinamie]

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me

[satsuha]

finally trying my hand at a khura'inese outfit for apollo... i definitely wanted to give him the spare coat in dhurke's office but i might redesign it later

[aro-aizawa]

i like to think everyone has a colour associated with them, whether its just your fave colour or what you generally wear most of or what colour your bedroom walls are. i always associate the name sophie with dark blue, my mum is always a nice turquoise, i like to think my colour is a bright sunflower yellow.

if you have a specific shade pls tell me i adore when ppl have associated colours and tell me them, bc i think of them when i see that colour

[silverware-is-interesting]

have some kinitoPET content, 'cause why not

a version with YOU

+ a thing and a few YOU doodles

[justewil]

happy emmy wemmysday i have never drawn her before

redraw of that one sticker of her. yeah

[cherubytes]

one-sided v4v where the v2 fights are just a way to get attention but v1 doesn't care at all

[sciderman]

(Idk if someone asked this already) since we’re on the topic of gender

sci what is gender to you and how do you see it in you and how you express it in your art?? (Just a young queer artist who wants some light shined upon them 🥺)

i 'unno ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lesbianwyllravengard]

If you call colouring "rendering" I will know you're on tiktok. Like yeah technically if you consider colouring to be the final process it could be argued that's not the wrong word but semantically it's awkward phrasing and the only people who call colouring art "rendering" are on tiktok

[whatudottu]

A long overdue art response to a boneless joke, Tetrax makes a very excellent first impression by accidentally severing Gluto - his new pilot - from one of his tendrils. Don't worry, he's fine-

After trying for hours to find a petrosapien hand reference I meanwhile am not so... *grins*

[thisfuckingdork]

Randomly spun some Deadlaws characters to try and combat my post-exam art block. I think it worked :P

[slightlytoastedbagel]

see I have theories in regards to What The Fuck Is Wrong With Whit Young but they aren't the ones involving him being the mastermind or traitor. they're to do with whatever is going on with his mother

[wellfine]

do you sell merch / prints of your work at all? and related, do you attend any conventions? Supanova was recently held in Melbourne and I was really hoping for One Piece art but there wasn't much :,((

I had an online store for a while but it was hard to restock everything during lockdowns, and I've been meaning to restock it & open it back up again but haven't gotten around to it! I'll be sure to post about it here when I do, so keep your eyes peeled!

I used to do local cons (only within South Australia) but didn't have time to do it the last couple of years. I'm planning on getting back into it next year though and maybe traveling interstate for some of the bigger cons, which would be exciting! You would be in luck because I usually just make prints of art I've already finished, which means my table is like 90% One Piece, LOL. It's always so much fun because the One Piece fans get excited since, you're right, there isn't as much OP art at Artist Alleys these days! So I always have some fun conversations and see some cool cosplay.

I was thinking of expanding my repertoire next year, though, so if any of you have series you'd like to see me make prints/merch for, you can let me know in the replies here. :-)