#light grey panel exterior

[meizhen-illustration]

Transitional Porch - Porch Inspiration for a medium-sized, extended-roof, transitional-tile front porch

[eachothersperfect]

Porch Front Yard Toronto Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional tile front porch remodel with a roof extension

[silly-drawings-by-sugar]

Transitional Porch Image of a medium-sized transitional tile front porch with an addition to the roof

[queer-tier]

Stucco Calgary Mid-sized transitional gray exterior stucco home design example with a shingle roof.

[gaboobers]

Gable in Milwaukee Mid-sized elegant blue one-story wood gable roof photo

[esteponajabonesecologicos]

Austin Pathway

A mid-sized transitional full sun side yard concrete paver garden path might look like this.

[ushomeguard]

Gable in Milwaukee Mid-sized elegant blue one-story wood gable roof photo

[capricornlevi]

i have a memory - kishibe x f!reader

cw: brief mention of violence and threat (not graphic), consumption of alcohol/cigarettes, explicit sexual content (oral sex f! receiving, fingering, hand jobs, vaginal sex) - NSFW, MDNI

word count: 8.9k

a/n: thinking about how young cocky annoying kishibe showed up for 3 panels and changed the trajectory of my life forever ... so here's 9k words of kinda-sorta-enemies slash annoying colleagues to lovers .... with a tiny splash of angst too for good measure? i just love this man and think he's a secret softie so here's him successfully pulling for once <3

___

“You’d really say no to a smoke?” 

Kishibe’s question sounds disbelieving as he holds out the box of cigarettes in your direction. Instead of answering, you choose to wave away his offer dismissively. Still shocked, he continues, “you’re not even a little tempted?”

You roll your eyes. You’re one of few devil hunters in the Public Safety Division that rarely, if ever, smokes; a fact that makes you somewhat of an oddity to people like Kishibe, your partner, who seems to keep the tobacco industry afloat through his wages alone.

“Nope,” you reply simply. “They taste bad.”

Your replies are clipped and borderline rude but you can’t bring yourself to care - not when he’s dragged you to this place yet again, at this godforsaken hour of the morning, to “look over your case files” even though he never seems to actually care enough to read them. 

The place in question is a dingy old café on the outskirts of town, one that Kishibe insists on coming to even though there’s a fancy new artisanal coffee shop just down the road. His loyalty to this dump baffles you. 

In theory, you don’t object to meeting up this early - you usually prefer to grab a hot drink at this time anyway, just to keep your hands warm, and Kishibe always needs to take a smoke break, so better to get it out of the way before the day kicks off - but you hate how he never seems to take these meetings seriously. It feels like wasted hours you could have spent sleeping. 

Adding to your resentment is the fact that you have to sit outside in the freezing cold just so he can grab a smoke. He doesn’t like walking and smoking at the same time; it distracts him too much, apparently. 

You hate it out here. As grim as it is on the inside of the café, the exterior is far worse; grey, miserable concrete floors and walls, no decoration of any sort, and just one solitary table for outdoor dining. 

And at that lonely table, there is only one chair - the chair which you’re currently sitting on. Thankfully, Kishibe knew better than to fight you for it since it’s his smoking habit that’s keeping you outside.

He’s leaning against the wall next to you, peering down curiously as you sip your drink with a poorly-concealed grimace. 

“You really sure you don’t want one?” he asks again. 

“Shut up and smoke the damn cigarette. It’s fucking freezing.” 

Kishibe lets out a short huff of amusement, finally fishing a cigarette out of the box and bringing it to his lips. He slips the box back into his shirt pocket and then pulls out his rusty old lighter, soft strands of black hair falling into his eyes as he lights the cigarette. His lips purse around the tightly-rolled tobacco, his cheekbones stained pink from the cold. 

You don’t know why your eyes linger on the sight. To distract yourself, you open up a copy of the report sitting on the table in front of you. 

Kishibe takes a long drag before exhaling with a pleasured sigh, eyes closed with bliss. 

“Doesn’t taste too bad to me.”

“Well, that’s you,” you mutter, scanning over the paper on the table. You’ve just picked it up from the captain of your division - he left it a little late to brief you both, considering the mission starts today - and you want to have at least a passable knowledge of what you’re up against before setting out. 

You’ve worked a few jobs with Kishibe since being assigned as his partner and generally, you tolerate him fine. He doesn’t try to ruin your day (you don’t think, anyway). You even share a few laughs every now and then, once you grew to understand his strange and overconfident sense of humour. He’s manageable. 

But at times like this, times when you should be focusing on the job that’s been assigned to you instead of just fucking around, smoking cigarettes and taunting each other …

At times like this, he can really get on your nerves.

He’s far from a bad hunter, you know that. His strength and skill have given him quite the reputation even though he’s still in the early stages of his career, and he approaches every fight with the sort of stoic level-headedness you could only aspire to.

He’s good. Too good, almost, and it scares you how he manages it all without even breaking a sweat.

That’s the real reason he gets under your skin so often. It's all too easy for him, and it’s a humbling reminder of your own mortality. He may not need to do this much preparation and research in order to stay alive, but you certainly do. You can’t take any chances. 

That, coupled with the fact that you can’t even enjoy your morning cup of coffee indoors anymore … 

“You sure it’s just the taste you don’t like?” he pipes up as if on cue, prompting you to give him a withering look over the top of the report. “You’re not scared of them, are ya? Cos we’re not gonna live long enough to worry about the side effects of smoking, if that’s what’s actually bothering you.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t smoke,” you reply, unimpressed. “I’d rather spend what little time I have left doing things that I actually enjoy.” You gesture dismissively at the cigarette dangling between his lips. “And those things taste like shit, so I don’t bother wasting my time or money on them.”

He raises his eyebrows when he takes his next drag, whisps of grey smoke spilling out into the frosty air as he exhales. “I could get offended here, y’know?”

“Why would you be offended?” you say disinterestedly, your eyes lingering on the part of the report that details the previous fatalities of the devil in question. 

“Are you saying that I taste like shit, then?”

“Maybe you do,” you say, setting the paper back down in front of you with a yawn. “I don’t care.”

Kishibe’s grinning down at you now. He has that kind of smile that always reaches his eyes, and you’d almost find it charming were it not always associated with him trying to tease you. 

You’ve read enough of the report at this point - it sounds awful, but all the death and destruction and suffering starts to blur together after enough time - and so fold the paper in half and slip it into your jacket pocket, trying as best as you can to ignore the grin spreading across Kishibe’s face.

“I don’t taste like shit, y’know,” he elaborates, even though you didn’t ask him to. 

“You’re a freak.”

Your comment does nothing to halt his attempt at conversation. 

“Well, I have these breath mints, y’know - y’know those ones you can pick up at the counter in drug stores? They’re pretty good, cancels out the taste. So I make sure I don’t taste bad.” 

He finishes his sentence by stubbing his cigarette out on the ashtray and opening the little tin of mints that he keeps in the same pocket as his lighter. He pops a mint into his mouth and stays looking smug, so smug you could slap the expression right off his face.

You are in no mood to entertain him any further, so just fire off an agreement in the hope of shutting him up. 

“Fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

But you should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, because not a second later he asks, practically beaming …

“Do you wanna find out?” 

You get up from your chair abruptly, shoving him with your shoulder as you pass him on the way out of the café. He gasps in feigned indignation and is just about to speak up again before you call out a question of your own. 

“Has a line like that ever worked on anyone?”

He laughs, though it ends in a cough. You turn to leave but still hear his answer from over your shoulder. 

“Nope.”

______

The job is a tough one, even by the standards of devil hunters. 

Kishibe has your back and you have his, but it’s not enough to save the many casualties who you had hoped to keep out of harm’s way. Collateral damage is a given in your line of work, but this … this was a particularly bad day.

You and Kishibe travel home in silence. He doesn’t say anything to draw a reaction out of you, and in turn, you don’t make a comment when he pulls his box of cigarettes from his now blood-stained shirt pocket. 

It’s a mutual understanding, and you’re grateful for it. 

_____

The next day, once you’ve had the closest thing to a full night’s sleep you could hope for given your line of work, you’re awoken by the sound of Kishibe knocking on your door. 

You know the sound all too well. He gives three loud raps against the doorframe, all in quick succession; he might pretend otherwise, but he’s a creature of habit. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know that it’s him. 

“I have a question,” he announces the moment you open the door, without so much as a greeting. “Just a quick one.”

“... go ahead.”

You’ve worked with him for long enough to know that it’s better to let him tell his piece first, and then you can ask for elaboration later. You don’t try to slow him down with a ‘good morning’. It wouldn’t be helpful for either of you. 

“A few friends in another division are going out for drinks tonight. Same place as usual. Shitty beer, but it’s cheap and the other division’s buying a few rounds, so they’ll get us drunk as hell. Wanna go?”

“You couldn’t have just called me with this question?” you ask, head still a little groggy. It’s well into the afternoon, but had Kishibe not come for this unexpected visit, you’d likely still be in bed. 

“Nope, because then it’d be easier for you to come up with an excuse to blow us off,” he replies quickly - too quickly, almost as if he’d prepared this little speech beforehand. “So if you really don’t wanna go, that’s fine, no complaints here. All I ask is that you don’t say no out of instinct. I think it’d be good, y’know, to get some space? Perspective, and shit like that? You’ll get to see a few people from other divisions, too. I know you’re probably tired of looking at my face every day, handsome as it may be.”

He’s looking at you directly, presenting his case in such a typically Kishibe way; straightforward, reasoned, calm, logical. And still just a little bit annoying.

Part of you is still a little resentful as to how he can bounce back so quickly and appear so unaffected by all of this. He’s still so unperturbed by it all.

But a bigger part of you appreciates that he gives enough of a damn to come out here and check up on you after a particularly difficult mission. You know of plenty of hunters who get stuck with partners who couldn’t care less whether they lived or died, let alone bothered to check on their mental well-being.

For all his faults, he’s a good guy. Irritating at times and a bit too sure of himself, but a good guy nonetheless. He’s trying to cheer you up and, try as you might, you can’t think of a valid reason to turn down his request. 

“Fine, I’ll go.”

His shoulders relax ever-so-slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s almost relieved.

“See you there at around eight o clock, so?” he inquires, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Sure thing.”

His smile turns mischievous, a transformation you see far too often. 

“Want me to wear something nice? I have a nice red lacy number you might like-” 

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before you close the door in his face. 

“See you later!” he calls out, voice muffled on the other side of the door. You hear his footsteps as they traipse down the hallway of your apartment building, and then he’s gone. 

This is fine. You can stomach a few short hours of socialising with the other divisions. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? You know a few of them already and you have Kishibe there to back you up if any of them get too messy. Your partner is a big drinker, but he can hold it well. Better than most people, actually (yet another frustrating thing about him).

As you start to walk back to your kitchen to make the first of many coffees, you start to notice something. It’s subtle, and you can’t quite place what it is until you’ve finished preparing your drink. 

You groan out loud once you realise what you've noticed.

Even with the earthy aroma of the freshly-ground coffee beans filling your kitchen, you can still smell Kishibe’s aftershave. 

It feels like … like it’s on you, or something. It feels like it’s all over your body.

You’re not complaining about the aftershave itself, obviously. It actually smells pretty nice - you’d never say it to his face, but the man has good taste. 

You’re just annoyed because it’s yet another reminder that Kishibe is everywhere. 

Whether it’s through these impromptu visits, through his frequent texts and emails, or just in the course of your work, he’s absolutely everywhere. He’s there when you wake up, he’s there while you work, he’s even there whenever you try to get some peace and quiet at the café or in bars after work. 

And after last night, he seems to be in your dreams, too, but you won’t dwell on that any further. Not if you have any hope of catching a break from him. 

You don't let yourself panic. You reason that dreams are just the mind’s way of processing what it experiences throughout the day. It means nothing. Having a dream involving a colleague, of him taking you in his arms, holding you close, touching you where you need to be touched … 

… it’s just a sign that you spend way too much time together. 

You clutch your favourite mug in your hands, feeling the heat warm your palms. It’s a standard mug, plain white porcelain with “World’s Best Boss” printed on the side; a gift from your former partner.

You think about what happened to her, and feel a lump form in your throat. 

No. Can’t get too close. 

___

When you arrive at the bar later that night, you find it to be so packed with hunters that the place is flooded with cigarette smoke. The air is so dense it’s almost a fog, the haze of it obscuring your vision slightly. You can see where you’re going but it’s difficult to make out faces. 

You can only hope that you don’t walk up to someone, mistake them for Kishibe, and call them a fucking idiot out of instinct. He’d never let you live it down if he found out. 

You cough to clear your throat as you make your way to the booths in search of your partner, trying to dodge the people pushing past with arms full of beer glasses. 

It’s not long before you spot him - or rather, hear him. 

“Hey!” he shouts to you from over your shoulder, and you spin around to see him standing right behind you. His speech is muffled by the cigarette between his lips, his tie is loose and the top buttons of his shirt are undone, and you see the pale-pink border of scar decorating his chest that would usually be hidden by his jacket. He’s holding a beer in one hand and so places the other on your shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness, guiding you over to the booth on the furthest left-hand side of the room. “You’re an honorary smoker now!”

Any other day you’d slap his hand away, interpreting the gesture as being just typical Kishibe trying to irritate you with overfamiliarity. However, after the mission the two of you just had, you choose to let it slide. 

It might be time to start giving him the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe, if you tried, you could even grow to like him. 

… but that thought doesn’t seem right. No, not right at all; because you didn’t have to try. Maybe you already do like him, and it happened without you even realising. 

You take a sip from the glass of whiskey that someone’s just shoved into your hand and you feel the warmth spread down your throat and through your chest. 

God, need to be careful. 

The realisation hits you like a brick wall; you absolutely and unequivocally must not get too attached to Kishibe. You can’t. You won’t. 

Getting personally involved with someone in your line of work is one of the most reckless things a person can do. If luck is on his side and he isn’t killed or seriously injured at some point in the near future, then you definitely will be the one to die instead. Your chances of passing away from natural causes are slim to none.

There’s no real hope for a nice, happy, white-picket-fence future; you gave that up long ago. To indulge in the new and silly feelings you’re experiencing for the man whose hand is still clasped on your shoulder … it would be foolish. 

Your best hope at happiness is to be fond of Kishibe from a distance. To tolerate him as a partner and respect him as a colleague, and leave it at that. No more, no less.

Once you’ve arrived at the booth - his touch still so noticeable on the exposed skin near your neck - he introduces you to three devil hunters. You greet the two men who you recognise as being from another division, along with a woman with an eye patch and striking white hair. From word of mouth, you’d assume this is Quanxi, the famous former partner Kishibe had worked with for a couple of years before being reassigned. 

You take a seat next to her while your partner sits across from you next to the two men, and even as you settle into conversation with the rest of the group, it takes a surprising amount of effort to try and ignore that you miss having him within touching distance.

You need a distraction and, thankfully, you grow to like Quanxi very quickly. She’s blunt and straightforward but makes good conversation. She tells you enough embarrassing stories about Kishibe to last you a lifetime and has a similar outlook on life as you do; she’s practical but not emotionless, reserved but still dedicated to her work. 

Unfortunately for you, she’s also very observant.

“You don’t drink much?” she asks out of the blue as Kishibe gets up to fetch another round. “Kishibe told me you don’t smoke, but from the look of your glass … you’re still on your first beer, whereas those two,” she adds, pointing dismissively at the other two hunters, “are nearly finished with their fourth.”

“ ... I had a whiskey before I sat down.”

“Even still,” Quanxi counters, holding up her empty whiskey glass for emphasis - she must have finished the bottle by now. 

You shrug, unsure as to what your answer would even be. “Tonight’s just an off night for me, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you admit. It’s uncharacteristically candid of you considering you’ve only just met, but Quanxi seems trustworthy. “I’m scared that drinking will make it … a bit harder to deal with.”

Luckily, Quanxi doesn’t seem too eager to push the topic. “Fair enough. As long as it’s not because you think it  … tastes bad, or something.”

You see her glance over to Kishibe for a split second, so quick it’s almost not noticeable. She grins, then, and you know for sure that he’s been talking about you. 

Kishibe, you swear to yourself. If the devils don’t kill him then you will. 

___

A couple of hours pass before you excuse yourself to step outside for some fresh air. It’s not an excuse - you really do need some air, as even the heaviest smokers in the bar have started to complain about how stuffy it’s become. You don’t feel too guilty about needing a break.

The night air is cold but fresh and crisp and so you welcome it, inhaling deeply into your lungs as you round the corner to the quiet alley next to the bar. Once there, you rest your back against the cool stone of the wall. You’re wearing only a skirt and a silk blouse, your jacket hanging up inside the bar, but you don’t shiver. 

You look up to the sky to try and see some stars, only to find them shielded by a thick covering of dark clouds. 

It could rain at any moment, you think to yourself. You really hope it doesn’t. 

“Quanxi scare you off?” a familiar voice calls out from the corner, attracting your attention. “Anything she told you about me is a lie, promise. Unless it’s good, then it’s extremely true.”

You chuckle softly. “No, just needed some air.”

“Same here,” Kishibe says cordially, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets. “Too warm in there.”

You watch him approach you with a soft smile and see that his walk is steady. He’s either not drunk at all or he’s very good at hiding it. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you and so you point it out.

“Kishibe, you’re not drinking as much as usual.” 

He chuckles. He’s reached where you’re standing and decides to follow your lead, resting his back against the wall and tilting his head upwards to see what you were looking at before. The two of you stay there, looking at the blank night sky. 

He clears his throat, voice still conversational and relaxed when he starts speaking. 

“Between the drinking and the smoking … you’re awful concerned about my health recently, aren’t ya?”

“Just being nosy, I guess,” you say, writing it off as plain old curiosity. You can’t think of any other reason for noticing it. 

“But you’re right, I’m taking it easy tonight,” he continues. “Not in the mood.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to come here to get shitfaced?” 

He shrugs. “No fun getting shitfaced by yourself, though, is it?”

“Ouch,” you chuckle, clutching your chest for dramatic effect. “I know I’m kinda quiet tonight, but-“

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” he grins with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t know the guys in there all that well, and the ones that I do know are fucking idiots when they’re wasted. Quanxi holds her liquor too well to even get tipsy, and you’re barely drinking, so I’m following your lead.”

Now it’s your turn to feel surprised. You thought you were the more observant of the two of you, but it turns out Kishibe notices the same things.

“I’m a good influence, then.”

Kishibe snorts at that, but somehow the sound is endearing. “Don’t go that far. We’re both still in this shitty job, so you can’t be all that sensible.”

“Oh, I’m not,” you agree, laughing too. “I’m good enough at wasting our pitiful little paycheck.”

“On what?”

He’s still grinning but looks genuinely curious, and huh, you have to stop and think on that one. You don’t really have any major vices (that you can think of), and you’re not a compulsive shopper, but you still manage to spend your money every month.

It’s not worth feeling guilty over, though; you just like surrounding yourself with little pleasures to distract from the grim nature of your work. 

You like getting nice furniture for your apartment, and this certain fancy brand of coffee. You like going to a local gallery and being able to buy any painting you want … 

… and, as you said earlier, you like things that taste good.

“I spend a lot of money on coffee,” you start. “Too much money. More than you spend on cigarettes, probably.”

“That’s-”

“A lot, I know,” you roll your eyes before continuing. “I also buy paint, canvases, brushes … things like that.”

“You paint?”

“A little. When I get the chance.”

He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully. Seems you’ve genuinely surprised him for once.

You keep going - now that you’ve remembered your little shopping list, it’s hard to stop the thoughts from flowing out. 

“And I got this green couch for my apartment. Ridiculously expensive, but I’ve wanted it for ages. I sometimes buy old books, too, and I always get this overpriced lip balm that tastes like apples.”

You pause then, to show you’re finished recalling your expenses. You have to laugh at the bemused expression on Kishibe’s face. 

“That it?” he asks, but he sounds suitably impressed. Like you’ve finally opened up to him in a way he can appreciate.

“That’s it, I think.”

He’s so close to you now that you’re practically shoulder-to-shoulder. You’re both just resting against the wall having a friendly chat, but the closeness feels … it feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. You’re used to having him always there, but never within touching distance. Never so casual and easy and enjoyable.

He clears his throat.

“So all that … that’s what you’re wasting all your money on? I’ll remember that next time I foot the bill for lunch.”

”I forgot my wallet one time,” you answer, shoving his shoulder with yours, “one time ever. Surely you’ve financially recovered by now.”

You’re not sure what possesses you, but as you’re still standing side-by-side, you lean your head down to rest it against his shoulder. It feels natural, like something you don't even have to think about. Kishibe was close, he was right there, and you wanted him closer.

His voice doesn’t betray any surprise at your actions, but the way the muscles in his arm tense as you nestle against him shows that he wasn’t expecting it.

But the fact that he doesn’t give you any shit for it or shrug you off means that he doesn’t object.

“I guess we can go to yours for coffee from now on,” he points out. “Since you’re apparently a coffee snob, and I’m clearly torturing you with the shit excuse for a beverage they serve at the café.”

“True,” you agree, “though maybe we can try to have a cup indoors for once. Just for the novelty of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to see if it tastes any better when I’m not freezing my ass off while you have a smoke.”

“We could go now, if you want?” he asks then, and you feel everything slow down around you. 

You’re grateful to be resting against his shoulder because it means he misses your perplexed expression, your eyes widening as he finishes his question.

What does he mean by ‘go now’? Go where? The café closes just after lunch. You never go there unless you’re on a case. It’s the middle of the night, there are no other cafes even open nearby … 

As if reading your mind, he elaborates. 

“No, not go to the café,” he says, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. It’s deep now, almost gravelly, instead of that usual ‘so smug it’s almost chirpy’ tone he utilises when he’s trying to annoy you on missions. His voice sounds nice - so nice that an inconvenient tingle spreads in your chest as you hear it. “I meant we could go back to yours. For some of that ridiculously expensive coffee, I mean.”

Is he trying to mess with you? It almost feels like a game, like he’s trying to trick you into saying something that will only make life more inconvenient for the both of you.

“You want coffee at midnight?” you ask, slowly.

“Sure do,” he answers without hesitation. “If you’ll be so kind as to host.”

You draw your head back and look at him quizzically. You know exactly how he acts when he’s messing with you and this isn’t it. He’s not smirking when he speaks; instead, he’s looking at you with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes. It throws you off in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant, and so you say,

“Sure, let’s head back to mine.”

___

You grab your jacket from inside the bar as Kishibe hails a cab, and before you know it, the two of you are standing at your doorstep, just as you were earlier today when he invited you out. You feel different now, though; adrenaline coursing through your veins for no discernable reason. 

This all feels surreal. You and Kishibe here, alone, after hours, without the convenience of a mission to keep you distracted. And yet, you don’t dwell on it.

You’re moving as if possessed, desperately avoiding any overthinking of your actions as you take him by the hand and guide him through the door to your hallway, through to the kitchen then. Neither of you says anything as you walk. You only let go of his hand when you arrive at the countertop where you keep the coffee, resting a hand against the surface to ground yourself.

The kitchen is dark since you didn't bother the turn on the lights. Only the glow of the streetlamps illuminates the room, casting a glow over the two of you.

You blink up at him. He stays looking at you pensively. 

You’re still not sure how literally he was speaking when he mentioned wanting coffee. Would he laugh at you if you started to brew some? You want to touch him again, want to feel him ever closer than he was before, but … have you misinterpreted the situation entirely?

Kishibe clears things up for you. He steps in your direction, shoulders set and expression difficult to place. He’s not touching you yet but he’s so gotten so close now …  closer than colleagues or partners or even friends tend to go, only inches away from your body.

He’s so close you can feel whisps of his hair tickling your forehead, you can see the crinkles in his shirt and the outline of the lighter in his jacket pocket.

He stop then, hesitating, eyes scanning your face. 

“You okay?” he asks, smiling at you - a kind smile, not brass or cocky. 

You nod, the movement shallow and jerky and perhaps a bit too quick. 

“Yeah, just … my head’s all over the place.”

“Nothing has to happen,” he replies quietly. “We can just have coffee, if you’d prefer.”

“So you really want coffee?” you ask, eyebrow raised. “We’re sticking with that story?”

“Doesn’t have to be coffee,” he counters. “Tea, water, I don’t care. I just … I like spending time with you.”

You return his smile just as genuinely. “You’re being so … nice.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I am,” you say emphatically. “Did I accidentally bring someone else’s partner home?”

He laughs, a nice sound, and your heart hammers against your ribcage. 

“Nope. Stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

His answer is conversational and friendly, but the look in his eyes betrays him. You know he means it. 

You know it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, because he’s your partner, and you’re supposed to be objective, and it goes against every rational thought in your brain. 

But the idea of being stuck with him sounds so appealing ... you can’t pay much attention to your rational side.

It’s not Kishibe who closes the distance between the two of you; instead, you step closer, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt, and then press your lips to his. 

It’s not a slow kiss. It starts intense and it only builds from there, teeth almost clacking together as you tangle your hands in his hair. It’s clumsy, almost; he’s pawing your thighs, lower back, waist, as if he can’t decide where he wants to touch first. You take a gentle grip on his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels in your hands, the silky tresses just so tuggable.

You’ll park that thought for later.

Kishibe deepens the kiss, running his tongue against your lips and then pushing into your mouth, not letting go of your body the whole time. 

It’s funny; a part of you thought that he would be as confident and dominant in these circumstances as he is in his professional life -

(Yes, you’ve thought about it before … it’s not as though the thought of sleeping with him has never crossed your mind. You’re stubborn, but not blind.)

- but he’s taking as much as he’s giving, getting as much satisfaction from your reaction as he does from anything else. He moves with you, noting what you like as the moments pass, gauging your reaction from your whimpers and moans and the way you’re not-so-subtly rubbing against his thigh.

He kisses your neck, lingering on your pulse point, leaving a mark that you’re sure will be visible tomorrow. The thought is strangely thrilling; the idea of you and Kishibe working a case together, with marks all over your skin just begging to be noticed. Marks that show he wanted you all to himself and needed everyone to know it. 

When you push your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his suit pants pressing against you, you tighten your grip on his hair. He notices and responds eagerly, grabbing your ass over the thin fabric of your skirt and pressing you flush against him. The heat of his body makes your mind go numb. 

You can smell his aftershave again, all over your body as he kisses and rubs and touches, but you have no complaints this time. 

He leans in as if to kiss you again but stops just short, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. 

“You have no idea how badly I want this,” he murmurs. “How badly I’ve wanted it. But … it might make things just a little bit complicated.”

“I’m okay with it if you are,” you whisper, looking into his eyes to show your confidence in your answer. You’re too far gone to back out now. You haven’t felt touch like this in so long, having kept yourself so guarded and withdrawn for years. Kishibe understands; he knows the risks of this job, and he knows how lonely it gets. He knows you so well. Knows what you need. 

“I’m okay with it,” he says, lips quirked upwards. He’s still pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs open slightly. “Want me to show you how much?”

His eyes flicker down your body past your chest, and you know exactly what he’s thinking about doing. Every inch of your skin feels hot. Your clit pulses at the very idea of what he’s suggesting - it seems like his confidence might pay off. 

“I want you,” you reply. You think about finishing the sentence with something a bit more articulate, but Kishibe’s eyes darken at your earnest response, pupils blown out and expression ravenous. 

He places a large hand on your thigh, the exposed skin tingling under his touch. He slides it up slowly, so slowly, grazing up to the seam of your underwear. He runs a finger over your clothed core and you gasp, hips almost bucking into his touch. His thumb circles your clit then returns to stroking the damp fabric between your legs, so impossibly close to where you need him. 

He’s so close to it. So close - if he just angled his fingers a little more, he could plunge two inside you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you as you melt underneath him. 

“Please-“ you choke, the pleasure almost becoming an ache. “I … I need-“

“What do you need, baby?” he whispers into the shell of your ear, teeth giving a gentle tug on your lobe when he finishes his question. “What do you need from me?”

“More, please. More.“

He doesn’t ask you to elaborate any further. Instead, he guides you to the countertop, pressing you against it at first, unable to keep from connecting his mouth to some part of you for too long (this time, it’s the swell of your breasts over the neckline of your blouse). 

Once he pulls back, lips leaving your cleavage with a wet ‘pop’,  he helps you up onto the countertop. Once you’re sitting comfortably on the edge, he slides his hands up your thighs again. You feel the cool marble on the underside of your legs, pleasantly contrasting the heat of his hands. 

He tugs at the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips to allow him to pull them down, feeling the cold air against your exposed skin as he does so. You’re so wet and he notices immediately. His tongue swipes over his lower lip, a pink flush having settled across his cheekbones. 

He’s annoyingly pretty like this, looking up at you from between your legs. 

You want to make him feel good with your mouth too. The thought of it makes your head swim; between the tenting in his pants and the look on his face … 

He cuts off your thoughts with a brush of his lips over your inner thigh. He kisses you again, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he gets closer and closer to your core. 

When he reaches the divot at the very top of your thighs, he loses his control just a bit, pressing wet and sloppy kisses, the obscene sound of which would make you embarrassed in any other circumstances.

You let out a desperate, uncharacteristic mewl, but you don’t feel any embarrassment. This side of Kishibe - whose only aim is to make you come undone - you know that he won’t make fun of you. The only reaction he’s trying to get from you now is one of pure and mindless pleasure. 

You gasp out loud as you finally get the contact you have been seeking; Kishibe presses a gentle closed-mouth kiss to your clit that makes your entire body shudder. With barely any contact he already has you quivering, goosebumps forming all over. The press of his mouth against your pussy is careful, explorative; lips and tongue tracing all over your slick flesh. 

The first proper lick stokes a fire in your core, burning hot and desperate as you tighten your thighs around his face. His hands grip your legs and pull them apart further, allowing better access for what he wants to do. 

Long, slow strokes up your folds and circles around your clit, all combining to make you feel pliant and boneless. 

“Please … please … please …” you beg over and over, though you don’t want him to change anything, you just don’t want him to stop. You feel like crying at the thought of it being taken away for even a second, for him to stop the perfect movement of his tongue against your aching cunt. “Please keep going.”

He hums his approval and moves to start suckling your clit with just enough pressure to make your vision go white behind your now-shut eyes. You feel the slightest pressure against your entrance as he presses a finger hesitantly - you throw your head back with a desperate cry of “yes!”, and he pushes it in in one fluid motion.  

You feel a bit conflicted about closing your eyes because the image in front of you is so enticing; a few strands of his dark hair are stuck to his forehead with the faint sheen of sweat that’s building as he fucks you with his fingers, his eyes looking up at you beseechingly through dark lashes with a particularly firm flick of his tongue … 

You want to keep looking at him, you do, but you can’t. It’s too much. The sensation is building quicker than you can react to it, and so you lay back on the counter, your back arching as he keeps up his perfect pace. 

The pleasure is low and warm and unending, deep inside you, and for a brief moment, it scares you that Kishibe is the one doing this to you. 

Kishibe, your annoying coworker who you’re supposed to be keeping at arm’s length - he's the one making you scream and cry out his name as if it’s the only word you can remember.

Kishibe is the one who’s making your eyes roll back into your head, the one who’s taking you apart with just his mouth and fingers (now, two of them). 

You’re surrendering yourself to him, and yet, you don’t have the slightest urge to halt any of it. 

Heat starts collecting in your core, a ball of warm pleasure starting to grow and grow until you couldn’t contain it even if you wanted to. He can feel you tighten around his fingers and speeds up without altering the pressure, just giving you more of what you need. Your incoherent babbling only spurs him on. 

When you tip over the edge and quiver desperately underneath him, coming apart entirely, it takes you by surprise; there was no build-up because it was all too overwhelming, too blinding, to be able to determine at what point exactly your pleasure started to crest.

It just takes over.

When you come down from it, you decide to take just a minute to collect yourself as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You close your eyes again, blinking back the tears that collected against your waterline. 

It’s a little strange. You haven’t had a sexual experience like that since … well, ever. 

Thinking about things rationally, you come up with a few reasons for your very enthusiastic response. First and foremost, you haven’t had sex in a long time, not since joining the agency, not since dating became too messy. You’ve been a bit stressed, too, a bit pent up. You needed some relief. You haven’t had any … alone time in a while, either. 

But as you noted earlier, you’re not listening to the rational part of your brain tonight. Not one of those reasons explains the effect Kishibe just had on you.

And the most confusing part is that even after making you come harder than you have in years, you want him even more intensely now. 

Sitting up on the counter, you drag him in for another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. You run your hands up his chest, fingers grazing off the tell-tale outline of the cigarette box in his pocket. You move to rest your hands against his nape, feeling the prickliness of his undercut against your fingertips. 

His pants are still on but you can feel he’s painfully hard, straining against his zipper as he clings to you. 

He starts unbuttoning your shirt and you do the same to his, taking in the view of his sharply-cut torso as he sheds his clothes. 

It’s all lean muscle, thin white-lined scars covering his chest, a few freckles here and there. A painful-looking blue-black bruise sits above his hip and you frown upon noticing it. He pries your hand away from his shirt buttons, bringing your index finger to his lips and kissing it softly. 

“I’m fine,” he reassures you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You want to press further but relent at the last moment, going back to finish your task of unbuttoning his shirt. You can be concerned later; now, he needs you as much as you need him. 

“Where do you want to -?” he asks, trailing off at the end. 

You widen your eyes suggestively, glancing down at the countertop beneath you. 

He scoffs. “... here?” 

You shrug, smirking coyly. “Why not? Curtains are shut. And even if they weren't, it's not like we haven't disgraced ourselves enough already.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he says with a grin, eyes flicking down to catch a glimpse of your chest. 

You hop down from the counter and kiss him again, hastily unzipping his pants and taking him out of his underwear. Thick and heavy in your hand - the overconfidence comes from somewhere, obviously - you feel him throb against your touch. 

A few gentle strokes and he’s groaning, eyes shut and head tilted back, beads of precum gathering at the tip. Your mouth waters at the sight; Kishibe, having just opened his eyes, snaps when he sees the effect this is having on you. He spins you around and bends you over the counter, tugging your skirt up above your hips. You’re standing here so exposed - no shirt, no underwear, only the thin fabric of your skirt shielding your naked form - but you trust him now, just as much as you do when your life is in his hands. 

He drags the tip of his cock against your pussy and you gasp. 

You’re not sure how, but you feel empty without him inside, even though you haven’t even felt it yet.

You spread your legs for him, wet and stretched enough to take whatever he has to give you. 

As the head of his cock pushes inside you, Kishibe is the one to moan then, deep and low. 

“Oh baby,” he breathes. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel so good already, my love. You’re squeezing right around me, fuck,” he stills against you, hands on your hips preventing you from sliding back against him. “I … I need a second.”

“Done already?” you tease, looking back at him over your shoulder, your shaking legs barely supporting you. You grip the countertop more firmly to steady yourself. “Surely not?”

“Can you wait a few minutes to give me shit?” he retorts, and you feel his smile as he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “Usually I’d say you’d have every right, but I don’t think you want to get into that right now.” He pushes in further then, inch by inch. “Or do you?”

“You’re right,” you laugh airily, “you’re right, just … keep doing that, please.”

He slides in further, almost to the hilt now. He grips your hips with both hands as he seats himself fully inside you. 

You knew it would be a stretch, but this - the feeling of being so impossibly and blissfully full - takes you by surprise nonetheless. He stays there for just another moment as you adjust to him and you feel his thumb stroke slow, soothing circles along your lower back as you inhale slow and deep. 

You push back against him when you’re ready for him to start moving, and he doesn’t hesitate. Pulling his hips back, he thrusts back inside you with a groan, the slap of skin against skin echoing around the kitchen. He sets a strong, steady pace; hips snapping against yours as you rest your forehead on the counter, chest bouncing as he fucks into you as though he’s thought about doing this for years.

Kishibe reaches over and grabs your hands from the counter, crossing them behind your back and holding them in place with his own. This position means you arch further, allowing him to thrust deeper inside you, reaching spots you never thought anyone could hit. 

His grip on your wrists is tight but it never hurts; he’s handling you with such care, far more thoughtfully than you would have expected. That being said, he’s not treating you like you’re fragile or breakable - you wouldn’t like it if he did - rather, he’s touching you like your enjoyment is by far the most important aspect of this. He’s treating you like a partner. 

You turn your head so your cheek is resting on the surface. You just want to angle yourself so you can look back and see him. You need to see him, you need to know if he’s as fucked out as you are, reduced to utter desperation, unable to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re so tight and drenched and messy around him. 

When you see him, your breath hitches. Your guess wasn’t too far off.

Kishibe’s flushed now, pink tinting his face and neck, and his chest rises with short, shallow, primal pants. He’s biting down hard on his lower lip, so much so you think it might bleed, and he’s looking right at you, meeting your gaze head-on. His brows are knit tightly together, jaw pulled tight as he keeps his focus on you. He looks to be as close as you are.

When neither of you look away, unable to tear your eyes off eachother, he speeds up his thrusts. He’s chasing his end now; his pace is frenetic, and he lets out a throaty groan when his cock slips out at one point, the speed of his movements and the wetness between your legs making everything a messy, perfect blur. 

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t fucking stand it,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a disbelieving chuckle, “I should have said it sooner. Fuck, you’re so, so beautiful, it drives me insane.”

He lets go of one of your hands, keeping the other pinned behind your back, and you quickly bring it between your legs and trace circles around your clit with your fingers. You’re so wet - both from his mouth and from the way he’s fucking into you now - that you can hear your fingers moving, which means Kishibe can too. 

He leans down and moves his free hand to join yours, collecting some of the wetness between your legs and rubbing your clit in tandem with your movements. You shift your position to allow him to touch you as he wants to, the weight of him against your back and the warmth of his breaths hitting your damp skin wringing a carnal moan from you. 

“So pretty for me, aren’t you?” he says, almost reverent. “So pretty like this. I could do this for hours - could hear you make those noises for the rest of my life, fuck, you’re doing so, so well, my love.”

 You feel it build so quickly that you gasp his name in surprise, the word almost sounding like a question. He understands, keeping the pace of both his thrusts and the circling of his fingers consistent. 

It washes over you like a tidal wave; pulses of explosive pleasure rippling through your muscles, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your breath catches in your chest, only a shaky, weak-sounding moan escaping your lips - you can’t even think of any words right now, let alone speak them. 

“Baby, baby, baby,” Kishibe mutters repeatedly, “oh, fuck, that’s it.”

You feel his cock pulse inside you, his hand releasing the arm that’s still behind your back as he grips your hips instead, grinding into you as deeply as he can. A few more shallow thrusts follow, aftershocks making your cunt flutter around him, and then he stills again, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the room. 

He doesn’t pull out right away. He straightens you up a little, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck and rubbing up and down your arm. It feels nice; you feel so serenely calm at that point, you could almost fall asleep resting against him.

He straightens up fully once both of your heart-rates return to normal and the sweat on your skin starts to cool, and then he pulls out, grabbing a tissue from the counter to clean for you. 

You fumble with your skirt to pull it further down your thighs - not to hide anything from him, but to provide the tiniest bit of warmth now that Kishibe’s body heat is no longer distracting from the cold.

He picks up his jacket from the floor and walks behind you to rest it on your shoulders. You smile gratefully, letting silence settle between you. He stays there, wrapping an arm around you from behind.

“Do you want me to head away?” he asks, and you can tell from his tone that he wouldn’t be upset if you did. 

You shake your head.

You don’t want him to go yet. Not just yet, not when you’re still processing all that’s just happened. 

“I know it could get complicated,” you begin, trying to reason with him and yourself. “But ... no. I don't want you to go. I ... you can stay over. If that's something you'd like to do.”

“I would."

You let out a short chuckle, half-relief and half-bemusement. “Then I think we shouldn’t talk about complications anymore. For a while, anyway."

“I agree completely,” he mumbles against the crook of your neck.

“First time for everything.”

“You wound me,” he whispers, feigning offence but kissing your hairline anyway. “So does this mean I get a tour of your apartment now?”

Taking the hand that’s wrapped out you, you tug him in the direction of your bedroom. He makes a few characteristic comments on your furniture choices and you elbow him without any malice, pointing out some of your favourite pieces as you make your way through your apartment. 

It feels strangely normal; you crossed this boundary together, but the world hasn’t fallen down around you. 

He’s still the same, you’re still the same … mostly.

You know there’ll be a conversation tomorrow. It can’t go unaddressed considering you spend your working day together, but there’s no use spoiling the serene temporary escape the two of you have carved out for yourselves. 

You reach your bedroom and he follows you into bed wordlessly, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. You interlock his fingers with yours.

Nestled in the sheets with him, you fall asleep more quickly that you have done in recent memory. 

After your entire adult life spent on death’s door, you allow yourself to feel an emotion you barely even recognise anymore.

You feel safe.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

i know loads of other people have written and theorised about this, and there was an amazing post about how someone knew the actual owner of the bentley and how things had to get swapped around*, but for the sake of my own bloody sanity i needed to go through all the bentley snippets we see re: seat colours, interior door panel colours, and the bond transfers because otherwise it was going to drive me loopy-

*if anyone has a link for this post, please wing it over to me and i will link, it was really interesting!!!

let's start with the 1941 and 1967 flashbacks where we see the bentley: ✅ brown seats ✅ brown panels (as far as i can tell) ✅ bullet decal (1967):

then let's move to s1. tbh, i've only done this for the sake of full disclosure, but as far as i can tell, ✅ brown seats ✅ brown panels ✅ bullet decal (no pics but fairly content that they're there in all scenes):

*correction, apologies! middle right should be ep4!

and then, post bentley going up like kindling, and being resurrected by adam, we can see what looks to be black seats and, i'd hazard is an open window (given the lack of shimmer/reflection compared to the window on its left) - see we can't confirm the bullet decals. however - and mainly because it doesnt fit the pattern im about to lay out - this image is very zoomed in, and lighting quality isn't quite reliable. so personally, im considering this as inconclusive:

so now let's move onto s2. eps 1 and 2 are fairly straightforward, ✅ brown seats ✅ brown panels ✅ bullet decal:

episode 1: (3rd and 4th images are before and after the beelzebub interaction)

episode 2:

but here's where things get interesting (stating the obvious, i know that everyone knows this), but given that this is when aziraphale takes the bentley - after the very poignant "our car' discussion - we can see the following:

setting off from soho: ✅ brown seats ✅ bullet decal ❓brown panels, but likely

on the way to edinburgh: ❌ black seats ✅ bullet decal ❌ black panels

arrival in edinburgh: ❌ black seats ✅ bullet decal ❌ black panels

okay, well, he changed the bodywork and hubcaps too, so this makes sense. but black? for aziraphale? feels somewhat like it's a compromise; he's gone ostentatious on the outside, literally the colour of crowley's eyes, but red leather for the interior... is a little much. so he compromises - keeps the decals (to honour his knight in turtleneck armour), but changes the inside to a cool, suave black. very 007.

but then we go to ep4, and specifically when aziraphale is accosted by shax. now, clear point to remember - shax has to have permission to enter, and compared to ep2 when she asks but materialises inside anyway, she now waits for aziraphale to acquiesce. this is the difference between a demon's car, and a demon-and-angel-couple-who-arent-quite-yet-a-couple-but-thats-just-semantics' car. by this point, crowley has accepted, agreed, that it is their car.

hitchhiker: ❌ black seats ✅ bullet decal ❌ black panels

return to soho: ❌ black seats ✅ bullet decal ❌ black panels

ep5 carries on in much the same way as the end of ep4 - crowley has not changed anything since edinburgh, ❌ black seats ✅ bullet decal ❌ black panels (not pictured, but can be seen in the same bit as the first pic):

and then ep6, beloved. again, nothing has changed. crowley's window is, however, rolled down in the departure scene, so the decal can't be accounted for. that being said, im fairly sure we can be certain it's there (and i have a thought about why it's rolled down but tbh it's so arbitrary that it's barely worth mentioning imo). in any case, ❌ black seats ❓ bullet decal ❌ black panels:

now i know there's the whole separate thing about the exterior changing from light grey to dark grey/black, but tbh i think that is going to be down to the continuity issue with the original bentley used in s1. as for neil's answers on his asks, here and here... look. could be something of nothing, but i don't think personally it's a wider conspiracy; i think it could be just be either that yeah, maybe some of my colour assignments in the above screenshots are wrong, or he's doing his parent-teacher-writing thing of what do you think?

maybe not, maybe it was a continuity issue, and we just have to apply hc to this to get an explanation.

well, mine is just simply that it's not a nefarious issue or mucking about with time etc... i think crowley just accepted aziraphale's ownership, and whilst he drew the line at yellow bodywork (the respectable choice imo, tbh), he kept everything else.

[inamindfarfaraway]

I can perfectly picture a Batman: Wayne Family Adventures two-partner that properly introduces Harvey Dent, Two-Face, their relationships with Bruce and vice versa. But I can't draw in the slightest. So I'm going to script it and you'll have to use your imagination. It’s a little longer than the average WFA two-parter. But given how many thoughts and feelings I have about Harvey, I’d say it’s impressively concise. For me. If you like how I write Harvey, I recommend my fanfic spotlighting him as a teenager, compared to which I must warn you this script is positively fluffy. Read it on AO3 here! If you want to draw any of this, please tell me in advance and use the updated original post or the AO3 fic, not necessarily your reblog.

A Second Opinion

Part 1

[Panel one. Vertical rectangle, full screen. Nighttime. The exterior of an abandoned building that is notably more decrepit on the right side, Two-Face's current base of operations, from a distance and high angle. The Batmobile is parked outside. Bruce as Batman is seen on the rooftop from behind, striding stiffly toward the skylight. A speech bubble floats in the air above him.]

Barbara: Are you sure you don't want backup?

[Panel two. Barbara as Oracle watches with a frown of wary concern at her desk in the Clocktower.]

I know these confrontations are very personal for you -

[Panel three. Bruce leans over the skylight seen from below it, about to kick it in. His fists and jaw are clenched, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed sharply; even for Batman on a mission, he's in a bad mood.]

Bruce: I'm fine. I have him right where I want him.

[A speech bubble floats in the space below the panel.]

Harvey: I have him right where I want him!

[Panel four. Fade into a flashback. In stark contrast to the dull and dark blues, greys and blacks of the present scene, the flashback panels are full of light, saturated and warm colours. Harvey Dent stands at a round red table outside a café on a sunny day, beaming. He's a handsome, sturdy man with neat, short black hair, a semi-formal brown suit and wide brown eyes. He was seated, but has risen and slammed his palms down on the table in his enthusiuam. Slightly low angle, like the camera is on the table, and to the right so we have a better view of his left side. A gold wedding ring gleams on his finger. His introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent, District Attorney. Gotham’s best lawyer, technically and morally.’.]

And think of the implications! If the Salvatore Maroni can face justice, so can anyone.

[Panel five. He paces a little behind his chair, gesturing animatedly. Motion lines trail and curve around the other way behind him. His right side is now in profile. Same angle, but pulled back to see over the shoulder of a younger Bruce wearing a nondescript black shirt.]

If his empire can crumble, so can any criminal organization or corrupt institution, no matter how powerful. This trial could be a beacon of hope for Gotham. Proof that the law can actually help people, that the spirit of it is alive.

[Panel six. Opposite Harvey, Bruce is sitting comfortably. He has notable eyebags and less light in his eyes than Harvey, but smiles in earnest admiration.]

Bruce: I think you're right. Maroni used to own the city, but ever since you, Jim and Batman started working together...

[Panel seven. Side shot of both of them from Bruce's right and Harvey's left, showing them down to their legs. Bruce leans forward. Harvey has sat back down. In the background, their memories conjure a vision of Batman and Harvey shaking hands before the Bat-Signal. The figures' lower halves fade to translucent above and behind their real counterpart's heads. That Harvey is smiling too and the one leaning forward, while Batman's mouth is a flat line but his eyes are soft.]

things have changed more than I could have imagined.

Harvey: I just hope we can keep it up. Maybe in a few years, Gotham won't need a Batman.

[Panel eight. Close-up on the right half of Bruce's face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of shock and vulnerability, although he isn’t offended. He has simply never considered being able to end his crusade before. Panel nine. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]

Bruce: Do you really believe that?

[Panel ten. Closer front shot of Harvey at eye-level. We can now see that he actually does have bags under his eyes. He's more pensive and his smile drops.]

Harvey: Yeah. I mean, Bats is a great guy. I don't want him to just disappear. But his methods...

[Panel eleven. Deep shot. Two petty crooks run through an alleyway at night while Batman looms behind them atop a ledge, a huge, hulking silhouette crouched animalistically with piercing white eyes and clawed fingers raised to pounce. The scene is somewhat abstracted to highlight the criminals' emotions. The alley walls seem to be closing in on them and Batman's curling cape flows into the surrounding darkness. Angle is above the very small-looking criminals, but below Batman such that his striking, soulless eyes glare right at the reader. Harvey's speech bubbles are in the top left and bottom right corners, framed by the blackness.]

fighting violence with violence and terror with terror... they're hardly ideal, are they?

[Panel eleven. Harvey places his right hand on Bruce's left arm in pride, who is too busy processing to return his smaller, softer smile of personal affection. Side shot from Harvey's left and Bruce's right that cuts them off at the torso.]

In my opinion, the work you're doing with the Wayne Foundation does better at lowering crime rates in the long run.

[Panel twelve. Over-the-shoulder shot again, Harvey's this time to show Bruce full of love, relaxing and leaning into the touch.]

Bruce: Well, in my opinion, you're a better person than me or Batman.

[His second speech bubble descends into the empty space.]

And I’d love to see the day Batman can retire.

[Panel thirteen and fourteen occupy different vertical halves of the screen and the same horizontal space for half of their lengths, the former higher, the second lower. The first shows Harvey from the right cut off at the thighs, in a courtroom, delivering some kind of unwritten passionate declaration; on his left and in the background, the defendant, the aforementioned crime boss Maroni in a nice black suit, holds an opaque bottle labelled as cough medicine and smirks viciously. The second is a close-up of Harvey’s head on the floor. Only the right half of his face is visible, the left turned away, and he is howling in unfathomable agony, tears streaming down his cheek. The stem of his speech bubble reaches down to the top of panel fifteen. This is a straightforward frontal shot of Bruce in the present. He stands tense and grim, poised to throw a Batarang with his right arm. Silver moonbeams shine through the broken skylight. Layered in front of the panel’s top border and behind Bruce, Harvey’s scream appears to ring through the cowl’s bat ears and extends continuously offscreen in extra large, blood-red lettering. The bubble fades around it to make it stand against the background.]

Harvey: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Bruce: Two-Face.

[Panel sixteen. Same angle of Harvey and Two-Face. The left half of their face is ravaged by raw, pink chemical burn scars and has a bloodshot eye with burned lids; even their right eye is sunken and shadowed with a menacing glint; their hair is the same on the right, but bleached white, longer and wild on the left; they wear an angular, elegant suit divided vertically in alternating black and white. They’re smiling smugly, posture calm, confident and commanding. Their right hand aims a pistol at Bruce, and the camera. The other hand, bereft of a ring, holds their two-headed coin. Their introduction box reads: ‘Harvey Dent & Two-Face. All the drive. Fractional sanity. Half the morals, or less.’. The outlines of their speech bubbles are smooth as usual on the right and rough and scribbled on the left when both alters in the system are in relative cooperation - a dual consciousness referred to as ‘H/TF’ in the script - completely smooth when the still goodhearted, but deeply troubled Harvey is speaking alone, and completely irregular for the much more merciless, callous Two-Face personality alone.]

H/TF: Bats! Let us guess: you didn’t bring any backup because you have a self-righteous hero complex about us in particular?

[Panel seventeen. Closer frontal shot of Bruce scowling and hunching his shoulders in shameful concession.]

Two-Face: Good. Those Robins are nothing but trouble.

[Panel eighteen. Long rectangle panning down the room. Bruce and H/TF are in the background as H/TF gesture with their left arm to two men dressed like high-level businessmen in the foreground, tied to chairs with a gun pressed to each of their heads by H/TF's identical twin henchmen. The captives are bruised, cut and slumped in exhaustion.]

H/TF: Now, take one step toward us and the hostages get it. Don't go feeling sorry for them. They work for Oswald Cobblepot. His reform is fake -

H/TF and Bruce: Obviously.

H/TF: And they've already told us everything.

[Panel nineteen. Horizontal side shot from Bruce's left and H/TF's right, to frame the hostages between them.]

H/TF: But if you go after us, you'll lose your best lead on his criminal activities.

Bruce: And people will be dead.

H/TF: Yeah, whatever.

[Panel twenty. Close shot of H/TF from the left. They look left, contemplating their coin in their open hand. One face is corroded and blackened by acid, the other shiny and clean, both visible as it's drawn in a motion frame while spinning.]

You say that making our decisions based on chance is irrational and unhealthy, but believing in free will isn't all roses either. So many tough choices.

[Panel twenty-one is small box in the middle of the screen capturing the impact of the Batarang knocking the gun out of one of the henchmen's hand. H/TF's speech bubble floats in the space below it.]

There's never a win-win, is there?

[Panel twenty-two, a vertical rectangle. In the lower foreground and to the right, a gleeful H/TF bolt to the slight right of the camera, relishing both their escape and how unhappy their enemy is. In the background, Bruce restrains the armed henchman with a bolas while knocking the unarmed one out behind him with a backhanded blow. His cape billows with his rapid movement.]

At least the coin lets us be unpredictable!

[Panel twenty-three. Angle is essentially Bruce's POV. H/TF glance over their right shoulder, showing their unscarred features twisted in mockery, and sarcastically wave with their gun. They're just beyond the doorway.]

By the way, we're very good at getting two things done at once. You might wanna check your car.

[Panel twenty-four. Outside. Bruce's shadow falls from below the border diagonally over the Batmobile. Its tyres are slashed. Its fuel is leaking out into a puddle underneath it. In the next panel, we see him at eye height past the front end of the car. He has fallen to his knees, head hung.]

Bruce: Oracle? You were right. I need help.

[The black sheen of the Batmobile fades into a flat black background below. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]

Barbara: You've already got it.

[Panel twenty-six. The first two sentences are in a bubble at the top, connected to the final sentence’s one dead in the middle. She's viewed from behind at a low angle looking up at her computer monitor. Her shoulders are assertively squared. Her security camera footage is split in two; Bruce and the crippled Batmobile are in the left window and H/TF's getaway car (also black on one side and white on the other) racing along a road in the right.]

We've been gathering intel. We know where Two-Face will strike next - and you know him as well as he knows you. Let's make a plan B.

Part 2

[Panel one. Distant establishing shot of a brightly lit black-tie gala in a vast, ornate hall, the tasteful decor dominated by white, light blues and silver. A caption informs us that this is 'The Cobblepot 'Charity' Gala'. Oswald Cobblepot is in the heart of the crowd, shaking hands with some official. Bruce Wayne is within earshot, but nearer the double doors. Panel two is a lower, tighter horizontal rectangle where Oswald and his guests are staring at the camera with tiny black dots for eyes in alarm at the doors slamming open. H/TF’s shadow falls over the floor. Panel three shows that Harvey and Two-Face have invited themselves, holding an assault rifle in both hands. Three smaller vertical panels on alternating sides of the screen show the doors being locked by pairs of Two-Face's minions in contrasting, complemetary outfits and wielding guns. The bird’s eye view of panel seven makes it clear that the guests are surrounded and trapped. Panel eight cuts back to H/TF.]

H/TF: Good evening, scum and enablers. We're -

[Panel nine takes us closer to focus on their - or rather, Harvey's - surprise.]

Harvey: Bruce? What are you doing here?

[Panel ten is a frontal shot of Bruce, like the camera's been reversed in the same position. His confusion is an act, but his concern is real.]

Bruce: I'm the richest man in Gotham and this is a high-society gala. What are you doing here?

[Panel eleven. Side shot that doesn’t show the scarring. Harvey lowers the gun, eyes softening as Bruce reaches out to him.]

I thought we agreed that you still needed treatment.

Harvey: I…

[Panel twelve. Frontal short. Remembering his mission, Harvey loses a degree of control and the two embittered alters lightly push Bruce away and point the gun straight ahead at Oswald with a glare. Motion lines trail from their arm.]

H/TF: That doesn’t matter! What matters is taking down the Penguin!

[Panel thirteen. Oswald presses a hand to his chest, somehow at once mortified and supercilious. You can hear the melodramatic sad violin. Beside him, his associates are cowering and aghast.]

Oswald: Why, everyone knows that I’m reformed. Attacking me when I’m doing good just proves how far you’ve fallen.

[Panel fourteen. H/TF snap at him furiously, and their speech bubble is large, spiky (still with the different texturing) and has a red outline for emphasis. Their eyes are stylized as flames; their right eye’s flame is orange and the left’s blue. Bruce is giving Oswald an intense sidelong glare. His lettering is smaller and his bubble's outline dashed to indicate that he's speaking under his breath.]

H/TF: SHUT UP!

Bruce: Shut up.

[Panel fifteen. Wide low angle shot up into the shadowy rafters. Damian, Dick and Tim are hiding in their vigilante identities and watching the scene below intently, at the ready. Their speech bubbles are dashed as they’re whispering. Damian is tense like a coiled spring, hand is on the hilt of his sword. Dick’s facial expression is blatantly disdainful of the villain in question, but his position and body language are calmer. Tim is all business.]

Damian: Shouldn’t we -

Tim: Not until the signal, remember? We don’t want to escalate and endanger the civilians.

[Panel sixteen. Close-up profile shot of Dick.]

Dick: Yeah, I hate Two-Face, but Bruce has got through to Harvey before.

[Panel seventeen. H/TF aim their gun with their right hand as their left reaches into their pocket to take out their coin. Their jaw is tight in composed ire. Diagonal angle to show Bruce on their right, overlaid by the gun. HT/F's speech bubble is near their head, but Harvey's is under the panel-dividing horizontal line of the gun.]

H/TF: You have the right to remain silent, forever.

Harvey: Bruce, get out of here.

[Panel eighteen, a square. Bruce is alone in the frame. He folds his arms, Batman's stern, steely presence creeping into his expression and posture.]

Bruce: Whatever you're willing to do to those people, you can do to me.

[Panel ninteen. Same composition with H/TF. They frown, the unscarred features looking regretful while the scarred ones look annoyed and disdainful.]

H/TF: Fine. Just stay out of our way.

[Panel twenty. Close up as they flip their coin. We get the blurring motion displaying both sides again. The next panel is a repeat shot where Bruce’s right hand snatches the coin in midair.]

H/TF: HEY! Give it back!

[Panel twenty-one. Extreme close-up, narrow horizontal parallelogram focused on Bruce's defiant stare. His speech bubble floats close underneath.]

Bruce: No.

[Panel twenty-two. He holds the coin out of reach. The camera is angled over and to the side of Bruce's left shoulder, to put as much visual distance between his outstretched right hand and H/TF as possible, Bruce's body in between them. H/TF’s left hand is balled into fist around the lowered gun while their right gestures like they’re arguing a case in a courtroom. They look resentful, but also coldly resigned. The speech bubbles can extend out of the panel. In the backgroud, some of the guests are depicted as simplified, featureless figures.]

H/TF: They aren’t worth sticking your neck out for. Nobody in Gotham is -

Harvey: I learned that the hard way.

Bruce: And I’ve learned otherwise. This won’t make things better, Harvey.

[Panel twenty-three. Two-Face fixes the gun on Bruce with a sadistic, unhinged snarl that’s distinctly his own.]

Two-Face: Listen, Wayne, I don’t care for you a bit. Give us our coin back or I’ll -

[Panel twenty-four. Bruce raises an eyebrow.]

Bruce: But what if it’s good heads?

[Panel twenty-five. Two-Face freezes. A ‘Twitch’ sound effect is at the corner of his right eye. Panel twenty-seven. A henchman aims his own gun with nervous eagerness.]

Henchman: I'll get your coin for you, boss!

[Panel twenty-six. The vigilantes leap down from the rafters. Dick's already thrown a Wingding to disarm him that flies downward rotating and seems to cut the shape of the panel, which has a tapering lower end.]

Dick: No!

[Large red 'BANG!' sound effect between panels. Panel twenty-seven is a small box in the middle of the screen showing the Wingding knocking the smoking gun away a split-second too late. Panel twenty-eight. Bruce and Harvey in the background and the bullet in the foreground are centred. Harvey slams into Bruce and knocks him down with his full weight, briefly putting himself in the path of the bullet.]

Harvey: Bruce!

[Panel twenty-nine. Long, vertical rectangle panning down from above the vigilantes standing in dramatic heroic landing poses at the top of the frame, wearing varyingly emotive expressions of shock, to Bruce lying propped up by his elbow and Harvey on his hands and knees at the bottom. The discarded assault rifle hits the floor between Harvey and the vigilantes with a 'Clatter' sound effect in yellow, uneven text. The coin slips out of Bruce's hand with a motion line to rest between him and Harvey. Panel thirty. Angle at eye level with Bruce and Harvey. Bruce sits up. He stares at Harvey with shining eyes and the beginnings of a smile as he processes what just happened, and what didn’t precede it.]

Bruce: You saved my life.

[Panel thirty-one. Angle is behind Bruce’s head. Harvey avoids eye contact, showing Bruce his unscarred profile. He’s solemn and though he too has a relieved hint of a smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes.]

Harvey: You never stop trying to save me. It was the least I could do.

[Panel thirty-two. Harvey’s POV. Low angle, tilted up at Bruce on his feet, offering his hand to help him up. We can tell that it’s Harvey’s perspective with both eyes because the left half of the image is dim and blurry due to the damage the acid did to his left eye. The speech bubbles are exclusively on the right.]

Bruce: It isn’t too late, Harvey. You can still heal. You can get better, be better.

[Panel thirty-three. Close-up on the right half of Harvey’s face, a narrow vertical box in the upper left section of the screen. His expression is of tentative, wary hope and raw vulnerability. He has wanted to end his crusade throughout its duration, but never been able to. Panel thirty-four. A bigger square containing his entire face and taking up the rest of the screen.]

Harvey: Do you really believe that?

[Panel thirty-five. Side shot that now only shows the side shot of Harvey’s face. Bruce kneels down be closer to eye level with him.]

Bruce: Yes. Always, I’ve been where you are. Feeling like you can never be more than all your pain and anger. But if you want a second opinion, I think you’re a better person than you know.

[Panel thirty-four. A square in the middle of the screen. Harvey’s right hand reaches out to Bruce’s waiting one, but lingers, tense and trembling, above the coin. Panel thirty-five. Vertical rectangle. Harvey shrinks in on himself, hunched over with his face buried in his arms and hands clutching his hair; perhaps he doesn’t trust himself not to pick up the coin and give Two-Face a means to make harmful decisions, just can’t make another choice of his own or both. Around him blackness with spiky, scribbled inner edges consume the screen like reality is fracturing or dissolving, or some all-consuming destructive force is coming for him.]

Harvey: Just… just take us to Arkham. We deserve it. We need help.

[The black extends, replacing the white background. But then, within the darkness, floats a speech bubble.]

Bruce: You’ve already got it.

[Fade into panel thirty-six. Horizontal rectangle. Distant, high angle. The black lightens to purple and becomes the night sky, which is warming to pink at the first moment of dawn. Harvey is handcuffed, about to enter a police car on his right. A cop is escorting him. However, Bruce has his left arm around his shoulders and they’re both in relatively good moods, similar to how they were in the flashback.]

Harvey: When did you get so optimistic, Mr Gothic McBrooding?

Bruce: Someone has to be. And hey, I had a good teacher.

[bijoumikhawal]

Re: Cardassian colors (ccing @section-69 because they mentioned it being relevant to a fic)

As we can see here, exteriors and interiors on Cardassia are a brown/orange overall, with some kind of pale color on some background buildings that could be grey or off white (or even a pale green?). The rim lighting on a broadcast screen is blue.

Here, on their handheld devices and weapons, we see a bronze and gold preference with a dark background for web layouts and bright colors for text (this is normative for Cardassian interface and web design, and in fact the colors tend to be brighter than this). On the disruptor and the other doodad I forgot the name of we see a brick orange-red.

These two wall fastenings used on DS9 are similar, with a muted metal yellow and a grey switch panel covered in copper buttons.

And it's true that DS9 and other environments are grey, but they still have color. Elevator doors are red- here it's a brick red, but on screen it's more of a dark true red. We see the sane color on the airlock doors. There's blue and orange lighting on the station (I think on the promenade you see red and green too). Colored glass makes an appearance (unfortunately I don't have good detail shots of Tain’s home on Arawath yet).

[fukuokanodivision]

“Let’s make some noise, the silence is killing me.”

Introduction

Eko Seishin is the leader of Fukuoka’s rap team, OverDrive. He’s known by his MC name “Aoi.” A calculating; Well known idol, Eko operates under 3 occupations, A solo idol, the leader of both Traffic Light/OverDrive and Chuohku’s undercover agent. Due to a terrible injury involving a true hypnosis mic (With brain and nervous system damage), half of his body is practically “destroyed”, turning him into a weakened “humanoid.” With his friends and his mic, he’s determined to accomplish his hardest goal yet, Overthrowing the Party of Words for good.

Eko is a young adult in his mid 20s and is the shortest member of OverDrive. He has jet black messy hair and a pair of blue eyes that seem soft, But are cold as diamonds. He has 2 electric helixes on both ears and freckles across his face.

His attire is a black t shirt with his quote in neon blue font, under a black leather jacket with neon blue outlines. From the waist down, he wears a neon blue belt, black sweats with neon blue lines and electric blue wrapping, black sneakers and a neon blue watch with an electric blue music note on a grey chain.

Name Meaning

Eko (エコ) - Eko is a pun on the English word “Echo.”

Seishin (精神) - 精 (Sei) which means “Surname” and 神 (Shin) which means “God.”

Aliases

Onii-san/Eko - Mai

Eko - Yuno

Boku - Pronoun “Poltergeist”

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 25

Birthday - December 15

Ethnicity - Japanese

Hair Colour - Jet black

Eye Colour - Blue

Height - 5,7

Weight - 50kg

Star Sign - Sagittarius

Piercings - 2 electric blue helixes

Markings - Freckles across his face

Family - Mother, Father & Younger Sister

Voiced By - nqrse (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name - Aoi

Occupation - Idol, Agent, Division Leader

Division - Fukuoka

Position - Leader

Favourite Food - Takoyaki (Only to keep his body functioning)

Least Favourite Food - Olives

Likes - Singing, Being with his teammates, Teasing others.

Dislikes - His team being messed with, Chuohku, Entitled people.

Hypnosis Microphone

Eko’s hypnosis mic is a grey lavalier mic connected to a mp3 player. Once activated, the mp3 player reveals a panel of places throughout his body of where his energy is stored, which ties in with his rap ability.

His speakers take the form of a large DJ turntable with circular speakers inside the disks, there are also 8 bit Chuohku security cameras that fly around with cubical speakers inside.

His rap ability “Resound” allows him by focusing on energy, He’s granted sonokinetic power in exchange, Though this neutralizes/weakens himself in the process. This ability can be used a number of times, But will weaken his rapping and potentially his ability based on the number of times.

Eko raps mostly about how others view him and how hard work is the key, Not just “being lazy”. In his rapping, he also includes various bits of English and Korean. Sometimes even deadly insults to his opponents, Of course to provoke them.

Personality

Eko on the surface is a walking idol personality, Caring, brave and loves to help out his fans. Based on this persona, it’s no wonder he’s popular with Fukuoka’s locals. While he appears to be friendly, he also has a cute and handsome look, hence he’s given the titles of “Ikemen” or “Shota” by his fans.

Underneath the exterior, Eko is a different person. While he retains his usual charm, he also has large traits of protectiveness and accuracy under his belt. When threatened, Eko will mostly take it as a joke, but will get serious when it comes to his team. During rap battles, He mostly starts with light or harmless attacks, but eventually starts using his true strength once he’s had enough of playing nice.

Background

TBA

Trivia

- He likes singing, Being with his teammates and teasing others. While he dislikes his team being messed with, Chuohku and entitled people. - His favourite food is takoyaki, While his least favourite food is olives. - The alternate name “Poltergeist” is Eko’s “Chuohku” code name, Based on the loud and noisy ghost of the same name. - Eko has a massive talent for languages. He’s able to speak English, Advanced Japanese and Korean all fluently, Making him a multilingual speaker.

[theinfinitymarble]

Michelangelo Marble: A Timeless Symbol of Elegance from The Infinity Marble

When it comes to luxury and timeless beauty, few materials can rival the magnificence of Michelangelo Marble. Revered for centuries, this elegant stone has been synonymous with fine craftsmanship, exquisite design, and lasting grandeur. Known for being the preferred choice of the legendary Renaissance artist Michelangelo himself, this marble remains a top choice for architects, designers, and homeowners alike. At The Infinity Marble by Bhandari Marble Group, Michelangelo Marble continues to inspire modern-day masterpieces, offering unmatched elegance for interior and exterior applications.

What is Michelangelo Marble?

Michelangelo Marble is a premium variety of Carrara marble, primarily sourced from the Carrara region in Tuscany, Italy. The stone is characterized by its soft white or light grey base with delicate veining in shades of grey and sometimes gold. Its subtle yet luxurious appearance makes it ideal for a wide range of uses, from flooring and countertops to sculptures and wall cladding.

Key Features of Michelangelo Marble

Exquisite Aesthetic Appeal Michelangelo Marble is renowned for its elegant veins that enhance the natural beauty of any space. Its neutral tones make it versatile, complementing both traditional and contemporary designs.

Durability Despite its delicate appearance, Michelangelo Marble is a highly durable material that can withstand the test of time. Properly maintained, this marble can last for generations, maintaining its luster and beauty.

Luxury and Prestige The association with Michelangelo and the Renaissance period elevates the status of this marble, making it a symbol of cultural and artistic heritage. When installed in any setting, it instantly adds an air of luxury and refinement.

Versatility Suitable for a variety of applications, Michelangelo Marble is frequently used in flooring, wall panels, countertops, vanity tops, and even as a statement feature in home décor. Its ability to reflect light makes it ideal for creating open, airy spaces with a luxurious feel.

Applications of Michelangelo Marble

Flooring: Ideal for opulent homes, hotels, and commercial spaces, Michelangelo Marble floors exude timeless elegance.

Countertops: Whether used in kitchens or bathrooms, Michelangelo Marble countertops offer a sleek, sophisticated finish.

Feature Walls: A Michelangelo Marble wall can become a breathtaking focal point, perfect for grand entrances, living rooms, or bedrooms.

Sculptures & Décor: Honoring its artistic legacy, Michelangelo Marble is still used in sculptures and decorative items, adding a classical touch to any interior.

Why Choose Michelangelo Marble from The Infinity Marble?

At The Infinity Marble by Bhandari Marble Group, we take pride in offering the finest selection of Michelangelo Marble sourced directly from the Carrara quarries in Italy. Our marble is meticulously selected to ensure superior quality, with each slab showcasing the unique beauty of nature's artistry.

Exclusive Collection: We offer a curated selection of Michelangelo Marble slabs with varied veining patterns, allowing you to choose the perfect match for your project.

Expert Craftsmanship: Our team of skilled craftsmen ensures that each piece of marble is cut and finished to perfection, ready to enhance any design with elegance and sophistication.

Sustainable Sourcing: We are committed to sustainable quarrying practices, ensuring that the extraction of Michelangelo Marble is done in a way that preserves the environment for future generations.

Caring for Michelangelo Marble

Like all natural stones, Michelangelo Marble requires proper care and maintenance to retain its beauty. Regular cleaning with a pH-neutral cleaner and the application of sealants every few years will help prevent staining and etching. Avoid using acidic or abrasive cleaners, as these can damage the surface of the marble.

FAQs

Q1: How does Michelangelo Marble differ from other Carrara marble types? Michelangelo Marble is a premium variant of Carrara marble known for its finer veining patterns and smoother texture, offering a more refined aesthetic compared to standard Carrara marble.

Q2: Is Michelangelo Marble suitable for high-traffic areas? Yes, when properly sealed and maintained, Michelangelo Marble is durable enough for high-traffic areas such as entryways, hallways, and commercial spaces.

Q3: Can I use Michelangelo Marble for outdoor applications? While Michelangelo Marble can be used outdoors, it is more commonly used indoors due to its tendency to weather when exposed to the elements. For outdoor use, additional sealing may be required.

Q4: How can I prevent etching on my Michelangelo Marble countertops? To prevent etching, avoid placing acidic substances like lemon juice or vinegar directly on the marble. Use coasters, cutting boards, and trivets to protect the surface.

Q5: Is Michelangelo Marble available in custom sizes? Yes, at The Infinity Marble, we offer custom cut-to-size options to suit the specific requirements of your project.

Conclusion

Michelangelo Marble is more than just a building material; it’s a timeless symbol of elegance and artistic heritage. Whether you're renovating a luxury home, designing a five-star hotel, or creating a breathtaking piece of art, Michelangelo Marble from The Infinity Marble by Bhandari Marble Group offers unparalleled beauty and sophistication. Its delicate veining, classic aesthetic, and association with artistic greatness make it the perfect choice for those who seek to elevate their space with a touch of Renaissance grandeur.

For more information on how to incorporate Michelangelo Marble into your project, contact The Infinity Marble today.

[stoneartbyskl]

Best Modern Patterns in Decorative Wall Cladding: A Complete Guide

Modern patterns in decorative wall cladding have become a key element in contemporary design, adding texture, depth, and visual interest to any space. By blending art and architecture, these patterns not only enhance the aesthetics but also create a statement that reflects your unique style. This guide delves into the top modern patterns in decorative wall cladding, featuring Indian Sandstone and Indian Marble, known for their durability, elegance, and versatility.

Top Modern Patterns in Decorative Wall Cladding

Random Wave Design

The Random Wave Design introduces a sense of motion and fluidity to your walls. This pattern mimics the natural flow of water, creating a dynamic effect that changes with the light. For a dramatic impact, use Black or Grey Indian Marble to execute this design.

2. Mint Texture Panels

Mint Texture Panels offer a modern take on traditional cladding with fine lines and grooves that provide a soft texture. This design works beautifully with Beige or White Indian Sandstone, adding a fresh and clean look to any space.

3. Abstract Arch Design

The Abstract Arch Design combines bold curves and sleek lines to create a statement wall. This modern twist on classic arch shapes exudes elegance and sophistication. Enhance this design with Green Indian Marble for a rich, luxurious focal point.

4. Abstract Pattern Wall Cladding

For a bold, avant-garde statement, choose Abstract Pattern Wall Cladding. This design blends various shapes and textures, making it a standout feature in any space. Indian Sandstone in Black or Grey amplifies the impact, ensuring a cohesive yet striking look.

5. Curved Fluted Blocks Design

The Curved Fluted Blocks Design adds depth and dimension to your walls. Curved flutes create shadows that shift throughout the day, bringing a dynamic quality to the space. Beige Indian Marble enhances the three-dimensional effect, making this design a captivating choice.

6. Circle Mountain Design

Inspired by natural landscapes, the Circle Mountain Design captures the beauty of mountain ranges. Concentric circles resemble peaks and valleys, evoking a sense of tranquillity and balance. White or Green Indian Marble amplifies the organic feel of this design, making it a serene addition to any room.

7. Ripple Wave Design

The Ripple Wave Design brings a touch of elegance and fluidity to any space. This pattern creates a rippling effect, reminiscent of gentle water waves. Use Black or Grey Indian Marble for a striking feature wall in living rooms or bedrooms.

8. Linear Wave Design

The Linear Wave Design offers clean, straight lines that form a wave-like pattern, perfect for a minimalist aesthetic. This subtle yet sophisticated design suits various spaces. Enhance the linearity with White or Beige Indian Sandstone for a sleek, modern look.

9. Fluting Marble Layers Design

The Fluting Marble Layers Design provides a contemporary take on traditional fluting techniques. Layered flutes add depth and texture to your walls. The rich Green or Black Indian Marble creates an opulent effect, making this design ideal for luxurious interiors.

10. Grey Wave Design

The Grey Wave Design combines soft waves with the neutral tones of Grey Indian Sandstone or Marble. This pattern creates a calming, serene atmosphere, making it a popular choice for bathrooms and spa-like spaces.

Materials Used for Decorative Wall Claddings

Indian Sandstone: Indian Sandstone stands out for its natural beauty and strength, making it an excellent choice for both interior and exterior cladding. Available in timeless colours like Black, White, Grey, and Beige, it easily complements a variety of design styles.

Indian Marble: Indian Marble brings a luxurious finish to any project, making it a favourite for high-end spaces. It offers a wide range of colours, including Black, White, Grey, Beige, and a rich Green, adding sophistication and elegance to your design.

Techniques of Installation

The installation method you choose significantly impacts the final appearance and durability of your decorative wall cladding. Two primary techniques are commonly used:

Wet Cladding Technique: In this method, a mortar mix is applied to the back of the cladding, which is then pressed onto the wall. This technique works well for outdoor installations, providing a strong bond that withstands various weather conditions.

Mechanical Fixing Technique: This method uses metal anchors or brackets to secure the cladding to the wall. Ideal for large panels or wet conditions, mechanical fixing offers a clean and durable finish, making it suitable for indoor installations.

Conclusion:

Modern patterns in decorative wall cladding offer endless possibilities for transforming your space. Whether you prefer the natural beauty of Indian Sandstone or the luxurious finish of Indian Marble, the designs mentioned in this guide cater to various tastes and styles. By choosing the right material, colour, and installation technique, you can create a stunning visual impact that will stand the test of time.

[gold94chica]

Life in Elk Grove: An Emo Perspective on the Local Dining Scene

Life in Elk Grove: An Emo Perspective on the Local Dining Scene

Elk Grove, Illinois, might seem like just another suburban town, but beneath its quiet exterior lies a world of culinary experiences that can add a bit of flavor to the otherwise grey monotony. For someone like me, who finds solace in the darker corners of life, these local restaurants offer a refuge from the everyday—a place to escape, even if just for a meal.

Rose Garden Cafe – Comfort in a Cup

The Rose Garden Cafe is a quintessential Elk Grove establishment, known for its cozy atmosphere and comforting food. It’s the kind of place where you can disappear into a booth, sip on a hot cup of coffee, and watch the world go by without feeling the need to engage. The soft lighting and warm decor create a space that feels like a retreat from the outside world—a place where you can be alone with your thoughts.

The menu is filled with classic diner fare, each dish served with a side of nostalgia. It’s not the food that keeps me coming back, though; it’s the atmosphere. There’s something comforting about the familiarity of the Rose Garden Cafe, the way it feels like a constant in a world that’s always changing. In a town like Elk Grove, where everything can feel a bit too orderly, the Rose Garden offers a touch of warmth, a place to feel grounded when everything else feels up in the air.

Coach’s Corner – A Dive Bar’s Respite

If you’re looking for something with a bit more edge, Coach’s Corner is the place to be. It’s a classic dive bar with a no-nonsense attitude and a menu that’s all about hearty, unpretentious food. The dim lighting, worn-out barstools, and the steady hum of conversation make it the perfect place to retreat when the world feels too bright.

Coach’s Corner is where the regulars go—a place where everyone seems to know each other, but you can still remain anonymous if that’s what you need. The burgers are greasy, the beer is cold, and the atmosphere is just the right amount of dark. It’s the kind of place that feels real, where you don’t have to pretend that everything is okay. In Elk Grove, where appearances often matter too much, Coach’s Corner is a reminder that it’s okay to let the facade slip.

I also met a real Elk Grove Chad here. I usually hate guys like that, but he is kind of beautiful in a cruel way, and it gives me horrible feelings that I love.

Black Steer Charhouse – A Taste of the Familiar

Black Steer Charhouse is one of those restaurants that feels like it’s been around forever, a staple in Elk Grove’s dining scene. It’s a steakhouse, plain and simple, but there’s something about the place that feels comforting in its predictability. The dark wood paneling, the smell of grilling meat, and the low murmur of conversation all contribute to an atmosphere that’s both familiar and comforting.

The steaks are the star of the show at Black Steer, cooked to perfection and served without any unnecessary fuss. It’s the kind of place where you can sit back, enjoy a good meal, and not have to worry about anything else. For someone like me, who often feels out of place in the world, Black Steer offers a sense of belonging, a place where you know what you’re getting and can take comfort in that certainty.

Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria – A Slice of Tradition

No discussion of Elk Grove’s restaurants would be complete without mentioning Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria. Known for its deep-dish pizza, Lou Malnati’s is a Chicago institution, and the Elk Grove location carries on that proud tradition. There’s something about biting into a slice of their buttery crust, loaded with gooey cheese and tangy tomato sauce, that feels like an embrace—warm, comforting, and undeniably satisfying.

For someone like me, who often feels like life is just a series of challenges, Lou Malnati’s offers a simple pleasure that’s hard to beat. It’s a reminder that even in the midst of chaos, there are still things that can bring a smile to your face, even if just for a moment. Elk Grove might be a place where routine reigns supreme, but Lou Malnati’s proves that there’s still room for indulgence, for those moments when you just need to treat yourself.

Tensuke Market & Food Court – An Unexpected Escape

Hidden within Elk Grove is Tensuke Market & Food Court, a Japanese market and food court that feels like a world apart from the rest of the town. It’s a place where the air is filled with the aroma of freshly cooked ramen, where you can browse the aisles for unique ingredients, or just sit down with a bowl of udon and let the flavors transport you to another place entirely.

Tensuke is more than just a market; it’s an experience. In a town where everything feels planned and predictable, Tensuke offers something different—an opportunity to explore, to try something new, and to break free from the constraints of the everyday. It’s a place where I can indulge my curiosity, where the usual rules of Elk Grove don’t seem to apply. In a life that often feels too rigid, Tensuke is a welcome breath of fresh air.

Tapalpa Mexican Restaurant – A Burst of Flavor

For those moments when I crave something vibrant and full of life, Tapalpa Mexican Restaurant is the go-to spot. The colorful decor, the lively music, and the bold flavors all combine to create an atmosphere that’s a far cry from the subdued tones of Elk Grove. It’s a place where the food is as exciting as the environment, where every bite is a reminder that there’s still passion to be found, even in the most unlikely places.

Tapalpa is where I go when I need to shake off the weight of the world, when I need a reminder that life doesn’t have to be so serious all the time. The dishes are bursting with flavor, the service is always friendly, and the whole experience is like a shot of adrenaline—invigorating and just what I need to break out of the monotony.

Finding Solace in Elk Grove’s Dining Scene

Elk Grove might not be the most exciting place on the map, but its dining scene offers a surprising amount of variety. From the comfort of the Rose Garden Cafe to the lively atmosphere of Tapalpa Mexican Restaurant, there’s a place for every mood, every moment. For someone like me, who often feels adrift in the world, these restaurants provide more than just a meal—they offer a place to belong, a place to find comfort, and a place to escape, even if just for a little while.

In a town where everything can feel a bit too controlled, these dining spots are a reminder that there’s still room for spontaneity, for joy, and for those small moments of happiness that make life worth living. Elk Grove might be a place of routine, but its restaurants prove that there’s still room for variety, for indulgence, and for the unexpected.

[rolergaragedor]

Aesthetic Options for Roller Garage Doors

When it comes to enhancing the curb appeal of your home or business, roller garage doors might not be the first thing that comes to mind. However, modern roller garage doors come with a range of aesthetic options that can elevate the look of your property while still providing the functionality and security you need. From sleek contemporary designs to charming traditional styles, there’s a roller garage door to suit every taste. Let’s dive into some of the most popular aesthetic options for roller garage doors and how they can transform your space.

Why Consider Aesthetic Options for Roller Garage Doors?

1. Enhance Curb Appeal

Your garage door is one of the largest and most visible features of your home or business. An aesthetically pleasing door can significantly enhance the overall look of your property, making it stand out in the neighborhood. Whether you want a door that blends seamlessly with your existing architecture or one that makes a bold statement, the right aesthetic choices can make all the difference.

2. Increase Property Value

A well-chosen roller garage door not only boosts curb appeal but can also increase the value of your property. Potential buyers often look for homes with attractive and well-maintained features, and an aesthetically pleasing garage door can be a significant selling point.

3. Reflect Personal Style

Your Roller Garage Doors Cambridge is an opportunity to express your personal style and complement the design of your property. Whether you prefer a modern, minimalist look or a more classic, ornate design, there are aesthetic options available that will reflect your unique taste and preferences.

Popular Aesthetic Options for Roller Garage Doors

1. Color Choices

Color is one of the most straightforward ways to customize the look of your roller garage door. You can choose from a wide range of colors to match or contrast with your home’s exterior. Here are some popular options:

Classic White: Timeless and versatile, classic white blends well with almost any architectural style.

Bold Colors: Bright colors like red, blue, or green can add a pop of personality and make your garage door a focal point.

Earth Tones: Colors such as beige, brown, and grey provide a more subdued and natural look, perfect for blending with the surrounding environment.

2. Material Finishes

The finish of your roller garage door can dramatically impact its appearance. Here are some material finishes to consider:

Aluminum: Sleek and modern, aluminum doors are lightweight and available in various finishes, including matte and glossy.

Steel: Steel doors offer durability and can be customized with various textures and patterns. They can be painted or coated to achieve a range of looks.

Wood: For a more classic and elegant appearance, wooden roller garage doors are an excellent choice. They can be stained or painted to match your home’s decor.

3. Panel Designs

Panel design adds texture and visual interest to your roller garage door. Some common panel designs include:

Raised Panels: This traditional style features panels that protrude from the surface, adding depth and character.

Flush Panels: For a sleek, modern look, flush panels have a smooth, flat surface with minimal design elements.

Sectional Panels: These panels are segmented and can be customized with various designs and finishes.

4. Window Options

Adding windows to your roller garage door can enhance its aesthetic appeal while allowing natural light to enter your garage. Options include:

Decorative Windows: Ornate designs, such as arched or geometric patterns, can add a touch of elegance.

Frosted Glass: For privacy without sacrificing natural light, frosted glass windows are an excellent choice.

Clear Glass: Clear glass provides an unobstructed view and can brighten up your garage space.

5. Hardware and Accessories

Hardware and accessories can further personalize the look of your roller garage door. Consider the following:

Handles and Locks: Choose from various styles and finishes, such as modern chrome or classic brass.

Decorative Hinges: Add a touch of style with decorative hinges and other hardware elements.

Trim and Molding: Custom trim and molding can enhance the door’s appearance and match architectural details on your home.

Incorporating pos4d for a Modern Touch

If you’re looking to combine aesthetics with functionality, consider integrating pos4d technology into your roller garage door setup. This advanced feature not only enhances the security and convenience of your door but can also be customized to complement your aesthetic preferences. technology can be seamlessly integrated with various design elements, ensuring that your garage door looks as stylish as it is functional.

Choosing the Right Aesthetic for Your Roller Garage Door

1. Match Your Home’s Style

When selecting an aesthetic for your roller garage door, consider the architectural style of your home. A modern home might benefit from a sleek, minimalist design with clean lines and contemporary finishes. In contrast, a traditional home may look best with classic materials and designs that complement its architectural features.

2. Consider Your Personal Preferences

Your garage door is an extension of your personal style, so choose options that reflect your taste. Whether you prefer bold colors and modern materials or classic finishes and intricate designs, your garage door should align with your aesthetic preferences.

3. Think About Maintenance

Different materials and finishes require varying levels of maintenance. For example, wood doors may need regular staining or painting, while aluminum and steel doors are generally easier to maintain. Consider how much upkeep you’re willing to invest in when choosing your door’s aesthetic.

Conclusion

Aesthetic options for roller garage doors offer a wide range of possibilities to enhance the look of your home or business. From color choices and material finishes to panel designs and hardware accessories, there’s no shortage of ways to personalize your garage door. By selecting the right aesthetic elements, you can improve curb appeal, increase property value, and reflect your personal style. Additionally, incorporating advanced features like pos4d can provide a modern touch while ensuring that your door is both stylish and functional. Explore the various options available and choose a roller garage door that perfectly complements your space and meets your needs.