#another thing i'd like to consider is that. everyone is still. animals. right. do you think dashi knows her crew's scents ??? genuinely-

[hershelwidget]

Yeah ok more bo I MEAN completely normal barnacleses. barnaci? barncle. barnanc NEVERMIND

In all seriousness I think the part BB loves most about being the Captain is that he’s got that big voice and confidence to match and it has FUN with it. Gets Extra when saying his catchphrases and stuff yk

Also some cute quirks it has <3 BB’s actually adorable I can’t even deny it anymore (either that or my old crush on Barnacles is acting up) COUGHS ANYWAYS

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

I have a question about the abandonment of the Linnaean taxonomy, please. Under the clades system, do we still use genus and species? You know, for nomenclature and such?

Sorry to be one of the ignorant people asking what is probably an obvious question.

you're fine! I don't mind honest questions. It's when people assume they know things and try to correct me in my notes that drives me up the wall.

in my master's degree, I took multiple classes about all of this, including one where we discussed different species concepts and whether or not species are even real. fun fact, they are not - they are us trying to describe nature in ways we can all understand. but they're still us putting boxes around that which cannot be boxed.

Genus and Species are sticking around primarily bc they're THE names we have for organisms. if we got rid of them, we'd have no way to talk about anything.

in an ideal world, we would redefine species to be the smallest independent evolutionary unit. but we don't live in an ideal world.

in living organisms, animals you'd never expect are able to hybridize, completely fucking up reproductive isolation as a way to figure out independent evolutionary units. plants are constantly cross pollenizing, birds and mammals have extensive hybrid zones, and then there's whatever the fuck ray finned fish can do.

bacteria ruin everything even more with horizontal gene transfer, essentially preventing us from being sure we know their lineage at all

then, when we look at the vast majority of species that have existed - ie, everything that is extinct - we can't even figure out reproductive isolation to any degree because they are very, very, very dead. if a species is older than 2.5 million years - so, most species - we don't even have DNA to look at. so we have to use their shapes, which can often lead to us not realizing a species is actually a juvenile form of another (see dracorex and pachycephalosaurus), or that they're different sexes of the same species (see what we thought moa were before we could sequence their genomes - the size disparity between male and female moa lead to them being considered separate species). Morphology and context behind it is all we have, but it's like using a 1990s computer today - good enough, but we know we're missing a lot.

so, yeah. genus and species are staying around purely because we need them, but species are being defined as clades. genera... look, I'd love for genera to be clades, but then that means that nothing ever leaves them, right? so everyone's classification would just be lists of genera. but having them be paraphyletic feels weird. I don't know. we'd have to come up with a whole new naming system. At least for the other linnaean ranks, we can just determine which are real clades and assign those names to those clades, and throw the other names out. but with this... we either have to accept paraphyly, or come up with a new system. or make them be clades, and suddenly genera names are like last names in Spanish-speaking countries...

[valeriefauxnom]

Yo, since you brought it up, what's the interpretation of Abyss's ending you like the most?

Going for blood, huh, anon? I'll bite!

I'm on the side of 'technically I think it should be Asch in Luke's body' side even if I acknowledge it's ultimately ambiguous.

The Contamination sidequest, of course, is the principle foundation for this argument, as it spells out pretty clearly: Asch will die, but Asch will assume Luke's body as a backup. Luke will remain in body but not spirit, further twisting the knife to Jade, who no longer would want his dream of 'replicas as a replacement body' to come true as he wished for Nebilim.

We also see an example of the effect with Star in Ortion cavern. The group comes back to see that the original cheagle has died, and the replica remains. But when Jade interviews the cheagle via Mieu, he finds out that it is the original in the replica's body, who felt weak, passed out, and woke up in another body.

More arguably, but I also might look to Jade's immediate response after he learns of Asch's death. He starts asking Luke about how it feels and all that, likely trying to get a gauge on what's happening, if there's any chance Luke is escaping the Big Bang, etc. He wants Luke to escape this with his life, no matter how dismal the odds even without Asch's death.

...And he doesn't seem pleased with the response he gets.

There's also his response at Tataroo itself, which, okay, very arguable, but to me is not a pleased look from Jade. I'm not claiming to be any kind of expert on reading emotions, but Jade's to me looks like one more of grief and/or disappointment than of happiness, especially in the anime, which could have more expressiveness than the original PS2 graphics in a game that had some notably poorly cutscenes.

And while yes, the mysterious figure does have more visual hints to Luke than Asch, and does reference a 'promise', I will say that to the latter both of the redheads were chucking around promises to everyone and is ambiguous. Luke's promise to Guy, to Tear, Asch's to Luke, etc.

Also, I just think it could be a unique and sad ending if Asch, who has utterly loathed replicas and the concept of one, from Van's grooming and his own trauma regarding Luke's replacement, finds himself a 'replica' in the new world, in his counterpart's body, and has to start trying to figure out what to do and who to be in the new world while puppeting around what's effectively the corpse of another person. It's just uniquely horrifying a concept that I would have loved to see explored. Heck, maybe even a postgame or game about the Jade Gang dealing with the impending fonon crisis while maybe trying to find a way to get Luke back and all the drama that could result would have been fun.

...But, as always, this is a very cursory summary of some of the most common arguments for Asch. We could dissect the Contamination Effect and Big Bang and all that all day, but to me, I personally don't see any evidence that it is not working as prescribed on Eldrant, or 'reversed' as some people argue. The one example we see is it working as intended, and Jade doesn't seem all that pleased when it seems like it's starting to kick up with Luke.

However, I'd like to throw a much rarer argument into the works as a thing to consider, just for fun.

What if it's not Asch in Luke's body or the reverse, or a merging of the two into one mind/body...But Lorelei?

To this, I'd like to point out that Lorelei has a sworn duty to answer the Grand Fonic Hymn of Yulia. And what was Tear signing right before this mysterious person popped up randomly in a field when Luke nor Asch show a particular skill in stealth? Well I mean Luke says he's good at hide and seek but still

Uh-huh, Grand Fonic Hymn. This could also explain the 'promised' quote. Lorelei is fulfilling its covenant with Yulia in heeding her descendant's call.

The mysterious person's speech and behavior, for however short we see it, is...ethereal? For lack of a better word? Detached? Both Luke and Asch are very emotional people and don't tend to speak in such a even, neutral tone. Lorelei, however, is a fonic sentience (well, so is Luke, but Luke is a mini chunk of Lorelei) and is not human at the end of the day. What few lines we do get from it in game are 'indirect' and otherwise formatted in a manner humans don't usually use when speaking. To me, the more detached 'This place has a nice view of Hod' compared to anything Luke or Asch might have said normally, even a greeting, is more aligned with Lorelei's potential behavior.

So yeah. Perhaps it's Lorelei, come to Auldrant after heeding Tear's call, perhaps in its' scions' visages, attempting to honor them both by assuming elements of both now that they (or at least Luke) have re-assimilated into the greater whole of Lorelei. Lorelei certainly seems to like its scions.

In the end I can just summarize: scientifically, I think it's Asch, canonically, it's ambiguous. No matter what side of the debate one is on, I dislike people trying to insist that it is absolute fact that x happened. I think part of the ambiguity is intended to reflect the fact that the Score is gone, the future is no longer set. Notice also how all the text boxes are gone after the Score is repealed. What they're saying- what's happening is no longer has a single canonical answer. So even if I do think more of the rules of the Abyss world point to Asch, it's ultimately up in the air.

[in-flvx]

Helloo! ok this has nothing to do with the aks game but since you happen to be one of my favourites for Sirius hcs I have to ask you. I can't recall Sirius and Harry ever hugging in the books, though they're really close. What do you think about it? Is it just because Harry isn't so much into physical touch anyway, bc I doubt that Sirius knew. I only remember Molly and Hermine once hugged him to comfort him. But if I am correct Harry not even hugs Sirius when they have to say goodbye or they haven't seen each other for a long while although Harry misses him so much. It only happens in the movies. What do you think says that about their relationship and their characters? What could be the reason and so on?

Hello, dear!!! That was a very interesting question, and I now spent my time rereading the Sirius and Harry moments throughout the books (and having a few very emotional moments because of it).

Hugging, and generally bodily contact is something dealt out rarely in the books, and like you said Mrs Weasley and Hermione are most likely to do so. Both hug Harry on a pretty regular basis, both for comfort and just in greeting and saying goodbye.

My reply is going to be a bit longer, and I haven't looked up everything so, many things are just from my memory, just a fair warning.

Alright, so.

The men in Harry Potter don't typically share a lot of positive physicality. They shake hands, they punch each other, and then theres the Quidditch celebrations, in which everyone hugs and cries. All very acceptable and heterosexual ways for men to share physicality, especially in the 90s, I'd say.

Other moments when people, men in particular, become physical, Harry considers those oversteps, and usually feed into his dislike of them - Rita, Lockhart, Slughorn and Barty Jr (still looking like Moody) come to mind for this. And these moments stand out, because Harry doesn't often touch people, and doesn't often has people touch him, much less people he doesn't know.

Sirius is an outlier. As he ought to be, and always is.

Sirius is first introduced to us, in the Shack, with an extraordinary amount of physicality. He of course mauls Ron - but it doesn't stop there. Harry attacks him with his hands, punching and strangling him, while thinking how much he wants to cause him harm with his hands. This is followed by Crookshanks, who uses Sirius' chest as a couch in his attempt to shield him, and then Remus, who pulls Sirius into a hug. This right there is more physicality than we see ever again between such a small group of people and animals.

Srius also holds onto Harry the entire time that Harry tells Dumbledore about the happenings of the Graveyard, and even when Harry describes the grip as painful, he never expresses discomfort with it. He pats Padfoot as well. They share physicality for comfort at least sometimes. And generally more often than Harry does with anyone else.

Still, their meetings and partings are often very tumultuous - first in the shack, then they barely have time to say goodbye because Sirius has to flee and Harry and Hermione have to get back to the hospital wing. Then, they meet while Sirius is a dog in Hogsmeade, and part when Harry is in the hospital wing. Sirius gets sent into war, basically right there, where all the Weasleys, Snape and Dumbledore surround them. When they meet again in GP12, Sirius is coming from a meeting and quiets his mothers portrait. Also not ideal. What I find interesting here, is that Harry is highly disappointed about this welcome. He had hoped for more, for warmth, had even expected it. So when Sirius is stressed out and depressed, it confuses and disappoints Harry.

I actually think that Sirius realises that in a second, because thereafter he doesn't hold back - where he can. Which is obviously not much because he is in yet another depression prison from hell.

But there are two moments in which they actually do hug. One time at Kings Cross - Padfoot gets on his hindlegs to put his forepaws on Harry's shoulders; and then at the end of the Christmas holidays - in what is described as a quick side-hug.

So that is a small compilations of all the moments of hugs and physicality between them I could find, which might be more than you remember, possibly because they're far more touchy in the movies, but in general I do think they have a pretty positive and touch forward relationship, in comparison to what Harry has with other people...

So, I think there's my answer. I hope this makes sense? <3

[msviolacea]

There's a lot of "oh, Baldur's Gate, isn't that game all about sex?" out there - I've seen it on the internet and heard it in conversation - which is fair, that's what the mainstream articles have been about, and let's not lie, most of us around here are all about the sexytimes with pretty people. (Me included, 100000%. And my "romance doesn't make an experience less interesting or serious" rant will be saved for another day.) But anyway ... it's Monday, and I'm avoiding work, so I figured I'd list as many things as I can think of right now that make the game amazing that have nothing to do with actually having sex with someone.

GINORMOUS areas to explore.

There are lore books literally everywhere. If you like reading random bits of in-universe texts, you'll be spoiled.

Have you ever played D&D and wished certain spells had more utility - like Grease, or Sleep, or Create/Destroy Water? You're in luck here! Anything that can either create a ground effect or temporarily distract/take enemies out is OP!

Animated, voiced cut scenes with nearly every single NPC you run across.

At the same time, most of them are not required. Some will give you interesting side quests, extra approval/disapproval from your companions, or interesting information that will give you more options in a future quest, but you don't have to spend hours talking to people unless that's your jam.

In character creation, you don't pick male/female as a gender. You pick from four body types (two small, two large, two with breasts/more slender, two more broad/slightly larger), three sets of pronouns (he/she/they), and several different sets of genitals - mix and match all three categories to your hearts' content. I'm sure there are other things they could have done, but it's the most inclusive character creator I've seen in a major game for sure.

The turn-based combat is a blessing for anyone who struggles with real time combat. Take your time, consider your options, look at things from all angles, sort through your spells and attacks to find the right one.

Or you can remember you picked up that barrel of smoke powder three rooms back, climb up into the rafters of the room, and chuck it into the fire pit in the middle of the room for maximum effect. I cannot overstate how fucking satisfying that is.

Big fucking tiefling horns. Of a variety of shapes!

Your female companions are the tanks/hearty warriors. Your male companions are all delicate fucking flowers, at least until you get Druid Daddy who can turn into a bear.

While optimizing your 4-person party to bring the usual configuration - one tank, one healer, a couple of DPS - is useful, it isn't always necessary. There are some fights where bringing four ranged options is a great idea, as long as you give them some survivability spells or plenty of potions. Sometimes bringing four people who can just barrel their way into a pile of ogres is satisfying. Mix it up!

Okay every companion thus far (I'm still only through act 1 yet, listen I have two games and my partner didn't feel well enough to continue the game where we're the farthest this weekend so I spent my time catching my solo game up) is absolute gold, no duds in the bunch, and the next few bullets will be one awesome thing about each one of them that has nothing to do with romance.

Astarion with the Thief subclass at level 3 literally cannot fail most lockpicking or trap disarming checks unless he rolls a nat 1. He is invisible when stealthed. He can one-shot most low level goblins with sneak attack arrows from range. He is a very bitchy fancy-lad Super Rogue.

Wyll is the Goodest Boy - the speed with which he goes from "I am oathbound to kill you demon!" to "well shit you're just a tiefling guess I'll deliberately fuck up my very dangerous warlock oath for you" is wonderful. He's noble and impetuous and wants to be more than a rich boy and gives nearly everyone the benefit of the doubt. I would die for him.

Karlach does the ADHD idle dance of "I could not stand still if you paid me all the gold in Baldur's Gate" and has the best puppy dog eyes. Also the story tie-in to her rage mechanics is really great and excellent storytelling.

Lae'zel is nigh unkillable if you give her the right stuff. Speccing her as Battlemaster is amazing for controlling the most powerful combatants on the field. Trip Attack has saved my ass so many times, you have no idea.

On paper, Gale should be absolutely insufferable. But somehow the writing and voice acting managed to hit just the right notes of humor and good nature and wizard geek. I'm very impressed.

Shadowheart is a very interesting combination of amoral/self-involved but also compassionate and I find myself fascinated by it. She clearly contains multitudes, and thus far the story is doing a good job of doling out pieces of her at a satisfying pace.

And speaking of interesting moral dichotomies, I absolutely adore that Halsin is both the good influence authority figure and also utterly ruthless when things run afoul of his strongly held belief system. Also thicc, broad-shouldered elf supremacy.

The tieflings you meet in Emerald Grove are directly tied to the D&D adventure "Descent Into Avernus" - as is Wyll! (And I'm sure it has a lot of context for Karlach's story as well, I haven't finished reading it yet.) I'm sure there's more when you get to the actual city of Baldur's Gate, but I'm not there yet. It's just fun to have that as an option to read for backstory about some of the game's characters and situations if you want. It's not required reading, though - cough, Bioware/Dragon Age, cough - everything that happens with them is perfectly understandable without any additional context!

The "Balanced" combat difficulty is a really good mix of fights that take a LOT of strategy and ones that can be easily cheesed.

Have you ever wanted to shove someone off a cliff even though you have like 8 strength? Listen, a 30% chance is STILL A CHANCE, and you have limited bonus action choices. TAKE YOUR SHOT.

... feel free to add your own. I'm still pretty early in the game and can't wait to get to more.

(edited for some slightly better phrasing about the character creation gender options, hopefully)

[lucilleguinevere]

Sweet Mess

⌗ Some thinks he’s stupid, some think he’s smart. Some thinks he’s docile, and some think he’s an animal. But everyone can agree on one thing, he’s a beautiful man. Inside, and out.

𓆩⊹ Lookism x Male Reader fanfiction ⊹𓆪

Chapter 2

.the present. 

Previous Chapter: Chapter One

Trigger Warning: Child abuse, cursing, mocking, fights, violence, spoiled brat stuff. 

Word Count: 4,851 Words. 

Note: Edited and proofread by yours truly! It was already done and I simply edited some stuff so reader would be more.. interesting to say the least. At first he was supposed to be this quiet, cold-blooded, evil mastermind. But I thought, why not add something sweet to the cake? So now he smiles more, editing his character in this chapter has proven to be a challenge, so the next chapter would most definitely be making his sweetness more apparent. He came from a pretty rough and tumble environment so making him all bright and cheerful would be odd- unless he has another personality. I’ll consider that actually-- Anyway, enjoy this long ass chapter! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Lookism and its characters, along with the art used. Banner edit, the reader backstory and character are mine. 

All Italic: “Flashback.”

Italic: Chat.

“Bold with quotes: Chinese.”

|||||||||||||||||||||||| : Borders. 

—M/n, a positive and kind, quiet and flexible, renowned ‘Dancing King’ and famous hunk of the Vocal & Dance Department. Friends with Vin Jin and Mary Kim— and surprisingly Duke Pyeon, the underdog of the department. Along with Zack Lee and Mira Kim from the Fashion Department. Bullied and enslaved by Vin, M/n had approached him first in compensation for all the misdeeds Vin had done to him, and they became friends from then on. Vin couldn't bully Duke whenever M/n was around because M/n was pretty close to him, he would listen to his songs and even suggest a few random words as Duke's lyrics. Duke still couldn't believe he's friends with M/n, and would think he's dreaming, but seeing M/n in his house right in front of him with an expectant gaze, had led him to believe he was never dreaming. "So how's your song? Any progress? Need help? Did you try auditioning for another company? Found any other companies??" M/n bombarded him with questions, just like how a friend would. Duke smiled at his behavior, "The song's almost finished, just editing and improving some stuff, and no, I didn't audition for any companies, it's not the time." M/n nodded in understanding as he sunk deeper into his chair.  He was currently sitting on a chair, the back of the chair against his chest as he leaned his chin on his arms, which was perched in the back of the chair. "It's a pity they don't realize your talent. Don't let it get you down Duke, I'm sure you'll get to the top one day." M/n encouraged him with a small smile, making Duke nod as his motivation was slightly boosted. He'll show those agents how they were wrong! 

M/n fished out his phone from his pocket and scrolled on whatever app he opened, and as he did what he was doing, Duke was reminded of a question that's been lingering in his mind. "Oh, M/n?" He earned a hum from the male, who glanced at him. "Have you.. considered joining an entertainment company?" Duke asked curiously. With his looks and his skills in dancing, although Duke didn't know about his vocal skills, he could at least be a professional dancer for idols. But so far, he's never seen M/n skip school, maybe a few times, but he'd always be back for the second period. "I'm waiting till you get into a company, I don't want you to get discouraged, so we'll do it together. Besides, it's boring. I'd rather have a friend to accompany me when I work." M/n answered, making Duke's eyes widen. He was waiting for him? They were friends for only a week now, so he didn't really believe it. "Well, that and I'm busy with my part-time jobs. I need to focus on studying as well anyway, being an idol can wait." M/n added, making Duke nod. Being an idol without being properly educated would only embarrass oneself. As Duke and M/n hanged out, a notification from his chat caught his eye. 

Vinnie: Hey m/n wanna hangout? I'm with mary rn

Vinnie: She's boring 😒

Mary Poppins: Excuse me!? We just got here! 

Vinnie: Yeah well I'm already bored 

Vinnie: M/n come and hangout with usssss

M/n: Lol

Mary Poppins: Srsly? "Lol"? 

Vinnie: U finna come or what? 

M/n: Later

M/n: Gonna*

Vinnie: Yeah yeah

Mary Poppins: Specify "later"

Mary Poppins: Teh last time u said that, u came after we waited two hours for u

Mary Poppins: TOW WHOPPING HOURS

M/n: Well now u know what later means

M/n: The*

M/n: Two*

Mary Poppins: I'm ginna kill u once I see u m/n

M/n: Really?

M/n: Gonna*

Mary Poppins: That's it, we're hanging out wuthiyt u

Mary Poppins: Have dun being aline, asshole

M/n: Without*

M/n: Fun*

M/n: Alone*

M/n: And yeah, have fun

Vinnie: Lol u messed up real bad m/n

Vinnie: Mary's funing rn

Vinnie: Funing*

Vinnie: Fuminf*

Vinnie: Duming*

Vinnie: Fuming*

Vinnie: Istg

M/n: Lol

M/n: Have fun u 2

M/n: If ur willing to wait for 2 hours I'll catch up

Mary Poppins: Ur not invited to our hangouts anymore m/n 😒

M/n: Oh, ok :(

Vinnie: Ur jk right mary? Right?? 

Vinnie: Don't just leave me hanging here bruh

Vinnie: Istg Mary >Read by M/n, Mary

•Vinnie last seen today at 16.46 PM

•Mary last seen today at 16.45 PM

M/n formed a small smile as Duke called him. "Hey M/n? The noodles are ready." He said, notifying M/n. He'd pick noodles over his friends anytime. "Aye, aye, captain!." M/n replied as he closed his phone, shoving it in his pocket before standing up and walking over to Duke's kitchen with a bright smile, the smell of instant noodles filling the air, making M/n's stomach grumble in hunger. He set himself down and took the chopsticks, breaking it for him and Duke, leaving the other pair for Duke to use as Duke handed him a glass of water before sitting down. "Thanks for the food!" M/n said before digging in, making Duke smile as the kitchen was filled with the sound of slurping. It was quiet as none of them tried to start a conversation, not that they wanted to anyway. M/n preferred to focus on his food and only on his food, especially when he loves said food. 

Soon enough, M/n felt his pocket buzz, making him scowl in annoyance. He was sure he turned the vibration off. He took his phone out and put it on the edge of the table, far from his reach as he focused back on eating. There, his friends, Vin and Mary were chatting, and sending a picture of M/n's rental house with a message saying 'here to beat yo ass mf'. Fortunately for him, he wasn't home. Unfortunately for them, he wasn't home and he wasn't reading their texts. As a result, they ended up wandering around somewhere else as they waited for M/n to answer the door or read their texts, not knowing M/n was currently at Duke's house. After they finished eating, M/n excused himself and left, finally opening his phone before his eyes slightly widened. Over ninety texts and even missed calls, from the one and only infuriated Mary and Vin. He just knew that once he got home, he's fucked. 

And he was right, he rushed to his home to see an infuriated Mary and an annoyed Vin who was smoking. Mary greeted him with a devilish grin, a vein popping on her temple as she glared daggers at M/n. "The one and only finally showed up! Now.." She launched herself at M/n who immediately dodged, but seeing as how Mary needed to channel her anger, or else she might get extremely upset, M/n let Mary grab his arm and sweep him off his feet, making him fall on his back and onto the cold floor, her feet making a loud stomp beside M/n's head as if to intimidate him. "Where the fuck were you?" Mary asked with a demonic voice, M/n could feel the scorching heat of her anger as he sweat dropped. He's in deep trouble. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Telling he went to Duke's would be a huge mistake. "So you're saying you were out wandering around in the park and went to the CV to buy some instant noodles and ate dinner at the very same place?" Mary raised an eyebrow as she crossed her legs and her arms, M/n stood in front of her like a child who did something wrong, but didn't know what he did wrong. Vin simply snacked on M/n's potato chips as he watched Mary glare at M/n. It's quite the opposite from when they're at school. While Vin would assert his dominance over his lackeys and Duke, Mary would just sit and watch. And as usual, M/n would be away, wandering around the school corridors aimlessly. But when it comes to M/n, the two of them can’t help but act differently with him. He’s special to them, and that’s why Vin is pretty chill when it comes to M/n while Mary goes ‘I’ll kick your ass and beat you up to a crumpled heap of crap’. 

Vin made loud crunching noises as he watched the two communicate. “And you didn’t open your phone? Even once?!” Mary hissed in fury, her anger meter going off again. “I didn’t say that..” M/n gave a pout, looking like a kicked puppy. It struck Vin’s heart as he looked at Mary. “Hey.. let’s just—” “Shut up, Vin! Then, what the hell were you doing?!” M/n looked at his foot, guilt evident in his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have put his phone on mute.. “Eating..” Mary couldn’t accept it. “Are noodles more important than your friends?!!” Yes is what he’d say but that’d fuel Mary’s anger even more. “No..” M/n looked into Mary’s eyes, “I’m sorry. I put my phone on mute..” 

“Who in the world does that?!!!” 

“Hey, tone it down, Mary. It’s late at night and M/n’s neighbors might come pounding at his doors for being loud.” Vin reasoned, sliding the potato chips to offer Mary some, but instead she snatched the whole thing, before scowling at M/n while she ate the chips, the sound of crunches filled the air. “Oi.. Those are mine!!” Vin snapped, going over to retrieve his snack as Mary moved further away. “These were yours! Now they’re mine!!” Mary replied, consuming more chips as she ran away from Vin who started to chase after her. ‘They were mine..’ M/n thought as he sweat dropped, watching them chase after each other as the crumbs of the chips dirtied the floor of his rental house. M/n could only watch as he sighed, wishing he had his phone to cope with the cruel reality. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

The night ended with a movie, Vin and Mary ended up having a sleepover at his place, Mary ended up taking his bed, not sharing any space for Vin or M/n. M/n offered Vin his couch, but uncharacteristically, Vin opted to take the floor instead, saying M/n should take the couch. M/n didn’t say anything and only fluffed up his pillow before he grabbed a blanket, setting them on the couch. Vin was about to settle on the floor when M/n suddenly grabbed his wrist, and with a sudden burst of strength, pulled Vin down the couch with him. Vin blushed furiously, “What are you–?!” Before he could finish his outburst, M/n shushed him, his pointer finger on Vin’s lips, making his heart skip a beat as he is on top of M/n, his eyes sleepy and half-lidded, but his lips formed into a sweet smile. “Shhh, Mary’s sleeping.” Vin gulped heavily as he felt M/n’s legs around his legs, pulling Vin down to his body. Vin could hear the soft thumps of M/n’s heart, “What the hell..” Vin muttered under his breath, hearing his heartbeat thump loudly in his ears as he could feel M/n’s warm breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “Sleep. G’night Vin, sweet dreams.” M/n whispered, closing his eyes. Vin stayed in his position, frozen in place before he spotted a small space beside M/n, slowly and quietly getting off of M/n, he turned around, his back facing M/n. 

Vin did not know how, but he did get a good night's sleep. At first, his eyes were wide open, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not close his eyes and sleep. But then, M/n snaked his arms around his torso, making Vin’s breath hitch as he wishes to dig a hole and hide underneath it. But soon after the embarrassing contact happened, Vin started to doze off into wonderland. And now, here he is, on the floor beside Mary who cuddled with M/n beside him. How did they get on the floor? No idea. But Vin had a feeling that mischievous Mary Kim had her hands on that. All he could do was sigh and hide his ferocity, after all, M/n never liked his dirty side. He tried ignoring Duke, but with M/n hanging out with him, a talented rapper who Vin did not want to admit, is a diamond in the rough. It made him anxious, nervous, what if M/n abandons him for Duke? What if M/n finally gets tired of him? What  if he changes and he starts to think badly of Vin? Constant thoughts and questions bothered him, it even gave him a headache as he constantly frowned. Damned M/n, always making him worry for nothing. Because no matter what, after many fights or bullies, M/n didn’t avoid him but confronted him. It started with a scolding, but ended with a hug and a fun hangout. 

“Oi, Vin! You coming or what?” Mary asked, M/n standing beside him with his usual disinterested face. Vin huffed, “Coming, coming..!” Currently, they are heading towards the cafeteria, who knows, maybe they’ll get to see the rumored new transfer student who beat Zack Lee with one punch and one punch only. On the way there, as Mary strikes up a conversation with M/n, mostly Mary talking with M/n humming and nodding, not forgetting to actually reply to Mary’s chatter. When they finally arrived at the cafeteria, they saw the transfer student, Daniel Park, inviting Jiho Park to his table to eat with him and Zoe Park— “Hey.. they all have the same surname..” M/n muttered loud enough for others to hear, sweat dropping as he glanced at the table where all three mentioned students were at. Mary raised an eyebrow, copying Vin who looked to where M/n was looking. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw M/n looking at Daniel, Zoe and Jiho. In a fit of slight envy, his mood souring as he almost pouted. 

Zack turned around upon hearing M/n’s voice, his eyebrows raised as he searched for M/n’s figure, easily spotting him at the cafeteria’s entrance. He waved towards M/n with a warm smile, happy to see him. M/n, spotting him with his three lackeys, returned his wave with his own smile, lazily waving his hand in the air. Vin, watching the interaction, grew annoyed at the two as a vein burst on his temple. Mira, who was nearby, also waved her hand in the air, which made M/n wave towards the two much longer. The male couldn’t help but think, ‘I must look like a joke right now..’ As he sweatdrop. 

The whispers of Daniel taking care of Zack’s goons and himself had popped an idea in Vin’s mind. His ego grew as he smirked. “Ohhhh~! So he’s the one who beat Zack with one punch?” Cutting off their interaction short, M/n mentally sighed, ‘Here we go again..’ Zack, who heard Vin’s not so inconspicuous words, turned around with an annoyed expression. “He’s not bad.” He comments, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He’s handsome, but I’m more handsome.” Making the lackeys and Mary behind him sweat drop while it was M/n’s turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. His smirk grew into a shit-eating grin. “You lost to that pretty boy, Zack?” Vin snickered as his lackeys followed, a smug grin on his face. “I bet it’s because you hangout too much with those ugly ass kids.” Vin added, making M/n deadpan. Zack stood up from his seat as he furrowed his brows slightly. “I don’t know.. I might lose to a pretty boy, but I won’t lose against you.” Zack shoved his hands into his pockets. “You hangout with weird ass kids as well.” He added, making Vin’s lackeys furrow their brows in annoyance. Vin, who accepted his reply as the sign of war, raised a cocky eyebrow. "Oi. You wanna die?" He asked menacingly. And at that moment, M/n swore he could see Jojo's menacing SFX and ゴ's surrounding Vin. Anime has gotten into his head and it refuses to exit. 

Suddenly, Zack swung his punch Vin's way, halting just when it was inches from landing on his face. But just as Zack is on guard, Vin has his hand over Zack's chest, ready to strike him down if his punch did land on his face. Vin admitted Zack's speed, and a trickle of sweat dropped down their faces. M/n simply watched their interaction with a disinterested face, slurping on his soda he got from a girl who passed by, giving him a soda for naught with a flustered face. M/n would say he's thankful for getting the soda, but he wouldn't feel as honored as the girl did, and she was the one who gave M/n the soda. M/n simply went to his personal wonderland as the two froze midair as if someone hit the pause button before resuming, as another wave of chatter and whispers reached their ears. 

It was the transfer student and Vasco, the head of the architecture department. The two turned their attention to Vasco and Daniel, who were standing face-to-face. "You've never been taken down, huh? Pretty boy. Just because you're handsome doesn't mean you can order everyone around." Vasco said, his eyebrows furrowed and his voice laced with malice, his brown eyes glinted with slight fury. His hand landed on Daniel's shoulder and he tightened his grip, making Daniel flinch as Vasco used his infamous killer move, the death grip. Probably not the actual name of his move but nobody really cares. With surprising ease, Daniel removed Vasco's grip from his shoulder before forming a smile, misunderstood by most people, as a smug and mocking smirk, as if to say 'You're so weak, I can defeat you easily'. M/n simply watched with ease as his eyes trailed over to the snacks displayed on the small rack. The snack was abundant, but there was one snack that had run out of supplies. 

The supreme snack. 

M/n then went on his own to buy the snack, ultimately gaining a certain boy’s attention. What M/n would call the ultimate mushroom hair boy approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder, gaining M/n’s attention. M/n turned around to see who it was, expecting Mary or Vin, but who he saw left him surprised. Not the crazy weird hairstyle, but because of the very person who uses that kind of hairstyle. The man seemed as stunned as he is, and after a while, one of them spoke out. “Eli?” That, ultimately, earned M/n a melancholic smile. “M/n..” The first thing that both Eli and M/n would do right then was hug each other, maybe sob a little and all and then start the storytelling. But they were in public, and all M/n did was reach for Eli’s hand, which is still placed on his shoulder and offer him the very same smile. Suddenly the crowd burst out in amazement and turned around, all their attention was on the new transfer student, who seemed to be handling Vasco with fair ease with an innocent smile that seemed smug and teasing. M/n thought nothing of it, and simply thought he looked rather handsome, and it seemed Eli has the same thought as he does. “Hmm, I wonder if he’s willing to be my model..” 

M/n sweatdropped and kept his mouth shut to prevent himself from spouting any unnecessary comment. And upon realizing Vin and Zack had stopped their childish bicker, decided to grab his snack and take the exit. “Let’s talk some time soon.” M/n said as he gave Eli a piece of paper, and on it was his number. He then grabbed his snack while Eli read his number. M/n couldn’t resist giving Eli a hug, so he pulled Eli with one of his arms and had a short lived hug before taking his exit, going towards Vin and dragging him out of the cafeteria. “O-Oi–!!” M/n ignored Vin’s complaint and surprised yelp, “Where’d Mary go?” M/n instead asked, to which Vin scowled like a child and frowned. “How am I supposed to know? I’m not her babysitter..” M/n sighed and released his hold on Vin and looked him in the eye. “You may not be her babysitter, but you’re her friend.” With that, M/n left Vin to his lackeys and decided to take it upon himself to find Mary— and if he can’t, he’ll just get a beverage. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

His mother was the only one who would brush his hair and make sure it stays silky and smooth. He had missed the feeling of a hand combing through his hair, so relaxing. That is, until they decide to comb your hair for real. M/n couldn’t hold the small yelp escaping his mouth as Vivi, his new charge, combed his hair roughly. “Geez, you didn’t let out a sound when you killed those thugs and you let out a yelp because I combed your hair too hard?” Vivi asked with an unimpressed expression on her face. M/n frowned and averted her eyes, “Everyone has a weakness.” Vivi rolled her eyes as she continued to comb her hair. “Yes, yes. Whatever you say, smarty-pants.” Another yelp escaped, and this time Vivi giggled at M/n as if it was a funny, comedic show. M/n couldn’t help but wonder whether she’s an actual sadist or not. 

“Don’t blame me, your hair is so messy and dirty, the servants said it was such a hassle to clean your hair up.” Vivi said as she started to braid his hair. M/n felt another pair of eyes on him, more specifically, from the bodyguard that was supposed to body guard Vivi, and M/n couldn’t help but sweatdrop. “Do you.. Do this to everyone?” Vivi huffed, “Of course not! That’s why you should be grateful that a busy little miss like me decided to comb and braid your hair!” Vivi smugly said, expecting a ‘thank you’ or anything, from the mysterious little boy. “If you were busy, you didn’t need— Ow!!” M/n jolted from the sudden force and rubbed his head to soothe the pain. He turned around to see a fuming Vivi, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. His frown disappeared when he saw she was on the verge of crying, but before he could ask, Vivi had stormed away. “Come on, Xiao Long. He doesn’t need our help.” She said as she rushed out of the room, and Xiao Long could only follow her, leaving behind a confused boy. Did he do something wrong?

||||||||||||||||||||||||

The next day, Vivi wanted to see whether M/n was around, or at the very least, miss her. Call her stupid or spoiled, but she simply wanted all of him, his attention, devotion, love, just like how Xiao Long is towards her, although he isn’t the very least straight forward about it. After searching the whole place without Xiao Long trailing behind her without making a single noise, Vivi started to feel annoyed. She spotted a servant nearby and called her to come towards her, and the servant obeyed. “Where’s M/n? The boy with the dirty hair,” Vivi asked, only to be surprised by the servant’s answer. “Don’t worry, miss. The boy is being taught a lesson, your father was notified of his rudeness towards you yesterday.” Vivi’s eyes widened in horror, and she clenched her hands tightly. “Who reported him towards my father?” The maid raised her head in confusion as she heard the irritated voice of the lady. She had thought the young lady would have been happy and would give her a promotion or a raise. “That’s.. It was I, young la—” The servant had been expecting some sort of prize for reporting the boy, but instead, her face was thrown the other way. “Get out of my sight. And don’t let me see you ever again.” Vivi hissed bitterly as the servant held her burning cheek in fear and nodded frantically, rushing away and out of sight. 

Right after that, Vivi rushed towards the place they would usually teach their servants ‘lessons’, and she never entered the place because it reeked of a disgusting smell. She ran as fast as her legs could, not stopping to catch a breath until she reached the area. She opened the door and felt tears fall down her cheeks, her heart was struck with horror when she saw M/n on the ground with no clothes on, his back bloody red as he coughed and hacked. “Get up. You won’t be able to protect the lady like that. How pathetic, just because you saved the lady once and earned her favor doesn’t mean you’re the best, or that our lady is so stupid as to spoil you rotten.” M/n didn’t answer and instead held on, as if he was processing. The old man sighed and rolled his eyes, “Hurry up, maggot. I don’t have all day for a twig like you.” And so he kicked M/n by his stomach, but instead of making him crumble into a heap, he held on. “Stop!!” Vivi shouted ferociously, earning the old man and M/n’s attention. Vivi rushed by M/n’s side and examined his face, covered in scratches, dirt mixed with blood. His lips were blue and cracked, his body trembling from the cold and the pain inflicted on his body. 

“You..!!” Turning around to face the old man and reprimand him, M/n stopped her by tugging on her dress, instantly stopping her. “..I’m okay.” He said with a grimace. Vivi held back choked sobs as she can’t help but feel guilty and pathetic upon seeing M/n’s bruised figure. “What do you mean by ‘I’m okay’?!!” M/n got on his feet and offered Vivi a small, pained smile. “It means I can handle this.” He held out his hand for Vivi to reach, only for it to be slapped away, but he offered it again after wiping his hand on his pants. Vivi sniffed and finally took his hand, easily getting back on her feet. “About what happened yesterday.. Please forgive me.” Vivi was taken aback, she expected an apology, but not when he suffered because she was just too childish. “But you did nothing wrong—” M/n shook his head and wiped away her tears. “But you cried. I must’ve done something wrong. So I’m sorry for being rude to you yesterday.” Vivi scowled and wiped the remaining tears away from her eyes. “If you’re sorry then let’s get you treated in this instance.” M/n shook his head again, “I’m your bodyguard, aren’t I?” At that, Vivi nodded, her brows slightly furrowed in confusion. “I know barely anything about self defense other than using weapons, my body is so skinny I won’t be able to hold multiple kicks and punches. So to keep being your bodyguard, I have to stay and train.” 

Vivi frowned in disagreement. “This– This isn’t training..! There must be some other way to train you..!” She insisted as M/n simply smiled. “You should treat all of us fairly, young lady. I can’t be the only one to get exclusive treatment from you.” Vivi pouted as she averted her eyes, her fingers playing with the fringes of her dress. She wanted to spoil M/n and only M/n, not some random bodyguard assigned to her. “Don’t worry, once I get stronger, I’ll stop. I promise.” M/n held up his pinky in front of Vivi, and she gave him a teasing smile laced with sadness and regret. “For someone who killed two thugs with only a pipe.. You’re rather childish. But since you pinky promised, you better keep it.” Raising her pinky and intertwining it with M/n’s, M/n smiled before breaking their contact. “I’ll see you soon. For now, be sure to treat Xiao Long nicely.” Vivi huffed and nodded, leaving the area, but not before sparing M/n one last glance. It’ll take some time for him to get his skinny body more toned, but Vivi knows this won’t be the last time she sees him. She’s the lady of the house, and who’s to stop her from visiting the training grounds? 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Cascades of platinum blonde hair fall over her white lab coat as she sat up, awakened from her sleep. Vivi sighed, unable to form a smile on her face. She kept dreaming of the past ever since the boy was gone. She kept wondering what she did wrong, where exactly did things go wrong, and how she should’ve noticed the signs the boy was giving her. She still remembered that after knowing M/n was interested in science, chemistry, and other subjects similar to it, Vivi had taken it upon herself to study it herself and then teach M/n what she learned. 

But as she studied more about it, what she thought used to be boring and useless had begun to become interesting for her. Especially when there’s someone for her to teach and share her knowledge with. It’s been years since she last saw him, and she would never be able to forget him. She and Xiao Long will search for him and scour all over the place until she found him. She looked out the window with a determined expression. The view of Seoul, the city of Korea, is reflected within her light brown irises. Her father had given her hints of his whereabouts, and until she found the boy, she decided she wouldn't be leaving Korea. 

“M/n L/n.. I’ll find you, and when I do, I’ll make sure you regret leaving us.” 

[grayluforever]

Am I the only one here who likes InuKik better than InuKag?

DISCLAIMER: This little analysis took me quite some time to type out, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't downvote it right away and at least read it until the end.

I haven't finished the anime yet (currently at episode 129) but from what I've seen so far, I can safely say that I'm not too fond of InuKag as a ship. It just kind of seems like one of those bland "boy meets girl and they fall in love" ships. Sure, they have some cute moments here and there, but what really turns me away from the ship is stuff like Kagome constantly - and I mean CONSTANTLY - abusing the power of the beads of subjugation whenever she's in a bad mood and everyone in the group siding with her without even considering Inuyasha's feelings in the matter. He just needs to say or do something that might irritate Kagome even in the slightest, and the next thing we see is him face-planting at least once after an unsolicited sit command from Kagome.

For example, in one episode where he was in the modern world, Kagome's mother sent him on an errand to bring lunch to her daughter. What's the first thing Kagome does when he reaches her and is about to give her the lunchbox? That's right, she tells him to sit. This is but one of many examples that I noticed in the anime.

Here's another one: Kagome brings food from her era to Feudal Japan and cooks for the whole group. Nobody complains about her cooking, however, Inuyasha seems to prefer the instant ramen over the food that Kagome made. What does Kagome do? She gets angry and tells him to sit.

Last one: Inuyasha goes to see Kikyo. She's his first love, the first woman who ever accepted him for who he was after a lifetime of being ostracised from two fronts for being a half demon, a being that isn't wanted in neither human nor demon communities. Kagome gets angry over him wanting to see Kikyo and tells him to sit. While I understand the sentiment of her being angry and jealous, by no means does this warrant physically harming Inuyasha by making him face-plant into the ground.

Kikyo, on the other hand, seems to really, truly care about him. Sure, she did go overboard when she attempted to drag him down into hell with her because she wanted to die with him, and she held a knife against his throat at some point when she talked about the weakness that is Naraku's human heart, but she never intentionally harmed him, right? She was incited to kill Inuyasha by Naraku and sealed him against a tree by piercing his heart with a holy arrow, but she did that because she was under the impression that Inuyasha fatally wounded her - when it really was Naraku who disguised himself as Inuyasha to trick Kikyo into hating her lover. Before the tragedy, they seemed like a happy couple that was just about to achieve perfect harmony by becoming normal people. Inuyasha was very close to using the sacred jewel to become a human - a normal person. The consequence of this would've been that the jewel would've gotten purified, which would've released Kikyo from thr burdens of being a priestess, she could've become an ordinary woman, too.

Whenever Kagome punishes Inuyasha through the beads of subjugation for whatever reason, everyone in the group, literally EVERYONE sides with her. "Poor Kagome, how could that dummy Inuyasha hurt your feelings like this by going after Kikyo?", I dunno, have you considered the fact that this is his first love we're talking about here? He still loves and yearns for Kikyo. He can't let her go, because his feelings for Kikyo are still strong. Of course, it's normal for Kagome to get jealous. It's a human trait. But that doesn't mean it's okay for her to just yeet him into the ground like a toy figure every time he does something that's not to her liking? If we'd turn the tables, if Inuyasha would dare to hit Kagome even ONCE out of a bad mood, I'm sure there would be an uproar about this in the Fandom.

Kagome just seems like this moody, entitled schoolgirl, while Kikyo gives off more calm and mature vibes. This is also the reason I like Kikyo more than Kagome. She puts more thought into her actions.

[silversiren1101]

💎💎💎 - for Mino from Hemlock!

[Thanks for the ask! - I did some extra research through your tags so hopefully I got it right!]

Minovae smiles, then looks a bit guilty as she answers. "I know her far less well than I'd like to, and that's a shame. Everything I've seen and learned of her tells me we're more alike than not." She lowers her voice, and looks around to see no one else within earshot. "Honestly, Hemlock is how people should be. She's the type of model, ideal character that the Orders would consider all the signs of a successful, lawful, healthy society. I still stand by my beliefs that the Orders strive towards obsolesce and we need to embrace it, and Hemlock gives me hope for that."

She waves her hands, tail rattling, acknowledging the awkwardness of that statement. "I know I shouldn't say such things! That people should be one way or another, but, truly, if there were more Hemlocks the world would be a much better place. An ounce of that sense of accountability and care for others spread across the people would disband us faster than anything." With a chuckle, she notes, "It's funny she has the name she does, honestly. Her and Camellia should swap."

An even grin and light in her eyes mellows as she sighs. "What more can I say? Her sense of duty is beyond reproach yet balanced with a kindness that keeps her from falling into the kind of zealotry that gives my fellow Hellknights a bad name. She has a good head on her shoulders and doesn't blindly follow written law for the sake of it. She's brave. She's funny. She knows how to have a good time and can spread a smile like an infection! Even Regill thinks nothing but highly of her, and that says a lot."

A tense moment of silence passes. "Honestly... I'm a little jealous of her. She makes it seem so easy... I know that's probably not the truth. That she probably struggles as much as I do, duty and kindness, justice and mercy, reason and decisiveness... Balancing it all without losing yourself... But damn does it make me second guess myself sometimes, that maybe I'm not so naturally as good a person as I think I am if it's so hard sometimes. She seems so sure of herself and I always feel just about to drown..."

She shakes her head. "Don't tell her I said that. She's a beacon of hope for damn near everyone and I wouldn't dare compromise that just because of my own self doubts, you hear?! Ugh... I really should just, go talk to her more. Maybe it'll rub off on me in turn. Would the dog be a good in? I do love animals..."

[silvfyre-writings]

Fukuzawa Becomes a Dad (BSD Fanfic)

So uh, hi, I never thought I'd be writing a fic for BSD in my life considering I have not read the manga and I usually make it my personal policy to not write fics when I'm not up to date, cause ya know, important things I don't know. But then I binge watched the anime, and fell in love with the dynamic between Fukuzawa and Ranpo (season 4's beginning made me feeeeeel) and so I wrote this. In 4 days.

Word Count: 12,927

Fukuzawa had gone to work that day, expecting to complete his job as a bodyguard, just as he’d always done without any problems. It had been a windy day, and his client had been murdered, but that was okay; these things happened and even he failed at his job sometimes.

What he hadn’t expected was the unpredictable whirlwind that was Edogawa Ranpo. The fourteen-year-old orphan had quickly latched onto Fukuzawa’s presence—despite his best efforts to deter said boy—and Fukuzawa found himself being dragged through one of the most eventful nights of his life in a long time.

A long time.

And he was tired.

Fukuzawa let out a sigh, lifting one hand to rest it on top of Ranpo’s head, the boys’ tears and muffled apologies never ending, almost as if the poor boy thought that Fukuzawa was going to up and abandon him like everyone else had. Fukuzawa ran his hand through the choppy strands of black hair, ignoring the way Ranpo’s cries grew stronger at the motion. It was clear to him that it was no longer about the scolding he’d given the boy, nor was it about the close brush with death he’d just experienced; it was something much deeper, something that Fukuzawa didn’t quite understand because he didn’t yet understand Ranpo.

But he wasn’t one to just ignore a crying child, so he patiently stood there, letting Ranpo cling to him and sob into his chest, doing his best to ignore how damp his yukata was becoming, tears and snot melding together with the fabric. He’d just have to throw them in the wash when he got home.

Home.

Something that Ranpo didn’t have the luxury of, Fukuzawa remembered. He recalled what Ranpo had told him back at the café, a morning that seemed so long ago now, about the death of his parents, the jobs he’d had and subsequently been fired from, and everything else that had gone wrong in his life since coming to Yokohama.

“I have nowhere to go.”

Fukuzawa let out another sigh, the noise producing a whimper from Ranpo, small arms tightening their grip on him. A few tears still leaked from the boys eyes, but it looked as if the worst of the breakdown was over, yet Ranpo still kept his face buried in his chest, unmoving, and clearly waiting for the silence to be broken—or for Fukuzawa to just toss him away like a piece of trash, which Fukuzawa had no intention of doing. It was hard to tell what Ranpo was thinking normally, let alone in the current situation. He didn’t know if he should offer words of comfort, or if he should just keep quiet and let Ranpo sort through his emotions on his own. In the end, he chose to keep silent; words weren’t really his forte to begin with, and Ranpo was already in a fragile enough state.

The grip on the back of his yukata loosened, and Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to pull away, only have the boy slump against him, his honed reflexes the only reason that Ranpo didn’t fall straight to the ground. Fukuzawa frowned, his heart beating faster because had Ranpo been injured and he hadn’t realized? He brushed back Ranpo’s bangs, the motion enough to coax Ranpo into looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, and splotchy cheeks.

“Tired…” Ranpo murmured, dropping his head again.

Fukuzawa nodded even though it wouldn’t be seen. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

“… nowhere to go.”

“You can stay with me tonight. We’ll work out things in the morning.” Fukuzawa said, dropping down so that he could lift Ranpo into his arms easier. It was strange, an action Fukuzawa had never seen himself performing, yet in the moment, it felt right. Ranpo’s arms draped over his shoulders, and his head came to rest in the crook of his neck. There were no protests from Ranpo at being treated like a small child, and a quick glance showed that the boy had already closed his eyes.

Fukuzawa sighed once again, this time with no response from Ranpo, and carefully maneuvered the both of them so that he could pick up the fallen glasses he’d given Ranpo, and also Ranpo’s hat. Once both items were secured, he turned and left the room, knowing that the moment he stepped outside of the building, his life wouldn’t be the same again.

The next problem came in the form of Fukuzawa’s apartment itself; a simple one bedroom, one bathroom accommodation that was more than suitable for himself and his few belongings, but most certainly not suitable for a growing teenage boy—if Ranpo ended up staying with him long term in the end. Still, it would do for tonight at least, and then, after talking to Ranpo, he could look into other options. Quietly, Fukuzawa opened the door, even though he needn’t have bothered, for Ranpo hadn’t moved an inch since he’d fallen asleep in Fukuzawa’s arms. It was just another sign that the boy was thoroughly exhausted—as if the patch of drool dampening his collar wasn’t enough of an indicator.

Thank god for washing machines.

Once inside, Fukuzawa kicked off his sandals, and dropped Ranpo’s hat and glasses onto the table in the entryway, before pulling the sleeping boy’s own shoes off and dropping them to the ground. How he managed to succeed without waking Ranpo—or dropping him—Fukuzawa didn’t know, and wouldn’t question. He was a skilled swordsman, a former assassin, and a well accomplished body guard; he didn’t drop things. However, carrying a sword, or a person over his shoulder was another thing entirely when compared to carrying a sleeping teen like he was still a toddler. Not that Ranpo was particularly tall for his age; in fact, he was rather on the small side. Yet still very much a child.

A child that had had a gun pointed at his head not even an hour ago.

Fukuzawa couldn’t stop the shudder from running through him at the memory. A gun. Pointed at a fourteen-year-old boy. If Fukuzawa had been even one second too late, Ranpo would’ve died, a horrifying sight to imagine, and something that the genius child hadn’t seemed to understand at the time until Fukuzawa had slapped some sense into him… behaviour that he truly regretted now. It was never right to raise a hand to a child, not even one as frustrating as Ranpo. Even if it had gotten his point across in the end, it very well could’ve damaged the tentative trust that Ranpo had placed in him, and driven the boy away from him instead of towards.

What am I going to do with you? Fukuzawa thought, stepping silently through his home towards his room. Tonight, Ranpo could sleep on his futon whilst Fukuzawa took the couch. He eyed the couch distastefully; it was a truly horrid thing—barely even a couch. But it had been cheap and provided something for him to sit and work on, and that was all that had mattered at the time when he’d purchased it. Tomorrow, he could look into getting a second futon and clearing some space so that Ranpo had somewhere at least.

It took far longer than it should’ve to get Ranpo settled, the boy subconsciously clinging to him when he’d tried to lay him on the futon, refusing to uncurl his fist from where he clutched desperately at Fukuzawa’s yukata. But finally, he succeeded, and he pulled the blanket over Ranpo’s sleeping form before leaving the room—leaving the door slightly ajar just in case the boy needed him during the night—and making himself as comfortable as possible on the couch.

It was going to be a long night.

“Fukuzawa-san… Fukuzawa-san… Fuku—”

“What, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa said, trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice, even though he wanted nothing more than to tie Ranpo to a pole and leave him there just to get a few hours of quiet.

Which he wouldn’t do, because he’d promised Ranpo he’d take care of him.

But he could dream.

“I’m hungry.”

This time, Fukuzawa couldn’t stop the irritated huff from slipping through. Not that it seemed to bother Ranpo in the slightest. “You just ate.”

“Yeah, but, I’m hungry.” Ranpo repeated as if saying the same thing again was going to elicit a different response. As if being as annoying a humanly possible was going to make Fukuzawa cave and let him have his way, when Fukuzawa knew exactly what it was that Ranpo wanted from him.

He wasn’t going to give in.

He wasn’t going to give in.

He was—

“… there’s a bakery up ahead. We can get something there.”—going to give in. Damn, he was getting soft. It had only been a month since Ranpo had come into his care, even though it felt much, much, longer. If anyone from the time he had wielded his sword could see him now, he guaranteed that they wouldn’t recognize him one bit in his current state. Hell, there were times where he couldn’t recognize himself either, and if anyone had ever told him he’d be trading his sword in for a child, he’d have laughed at them. Yet here he was, without a sword, and a child following behind him.

But as Ranpo beamed at him, throwing his arms into the air at his victory as he dashed ahead to the bakery in question, Fukuzawa could do nothing but shake his head fondly at the antics. In just a month; a singular month, Ranpo had managed to weasel himself into Fukuzawa’s life as if he’d always been a part of it, eating all his food and emptying his wallet like it was his own. The intelligence that the boy pertained was truly remarkable; the way he could simply look at a crime scene and deduce who the killer was and how, almost instantaneously, was always jaw dropping to see. And it wasn’t just the mysteries of crime scenes either; anything with a plot hidden behind closed doors wasn’t safe. Which of course meant that trying to entertain Ranpo with movies or books was pointless; the boy had already figured out the plot within the first five minutes. The best Fukuzawa had been able to do was keep up a steady pile of snacks and sweets for Ranpo to eat so he didn’t spoil the experiences for everyone around him.

Needless to say, Fukuzawa was soon to be out of a job, since Ranpo kept solving the cases of the people he was hired to protect. Not that he was overly bothered by that fact, since it meant he could turn his focus towards the brief idea that he’d had back at the theatre that day; of a—

“Fukuzawa-san.” Ranpo’s voice ended his train of thought and he blinked down at the boy. They were standing out the front of the bakery, Ranpo tilting his head to the side. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“It need not concern you.” Fukuzawa said, for right now, Ranpo truly didn’t need to worry about what he was thinking. “Hurry up and pick something out, we have a job to get to.”

“You mean, I have a job, right?” Ranpo asked.

“Yes, Ranpo, you have the job. I am merely your protection.” Fukuzawa sighed, already pulling his wallet out as Ranpo began to list off the obnoxious number of sweets he wanted. I should just buy the bakery at this point.

“Ha! Did you see that woman’s face when called her out? She really should’ve thought it through better if she didn’t want to get caught. Even a pre-schooler could’ve figured it out!” Fukuzawa was half-listening to Ranpo ramble about the woman he’d just gotten arrested for murdering her best friend, a murder that a pre-schooler most certainly could not have solved. Not that Ranpo seemed to understand that it was only him that had been able to see the truth in the end; not even the police had been able to figure it out properly, most of them still looking confused about what had just happened, yet accepting Ranpo’s words for what they were. Just another day with Ranpo. Fukuzawa hadn’t even been needed, only tagging along in the first place to make sure that Ranpo didn’t get lost, and that no one targeted the boy.

He'd tried teaching Ranpo some defensive moves not long after taking the boy in, but his efforts were in vain. Ranpo had about as much fight sense as a newborn calf, and after a fall that had nearly broken his nose, Fukuzawa had simply resigned himself to protecting Ranpo himself.

Which had been so far successful; touch wood.

“You did well, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa praised, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

Ranpo’s face lit up. “Do I get a reward?”

“You’ll have to wait until you get paid, I’m afraid, unless you want to be eating dust for dinner.” Fukuzawa said, his words a reminder that their funds were stretched a bit thin at the moment, on account of moving into a bigger home; still small by most people’s standards, it gave Ranpo his own room and that was the main thing.

Ranpo’s face fell. “Oh. We shouldn’t have moved then.”

Fukuzawa sighed. “You needed your own space, Ranpo, the old place was too small for us both to reside in long term. And you like the new place.” Left unsaid was the fact that Fukuzawa himself had wanted a room of his own again, since Ranpo had refused to sleep on the couch after doing it for just one night; something that he didn’t really blame the boy for doing. It truly had been an awful couch.

Mostly, Fukuzawa just wanted some privacy.

There was nothing more terrifying than waking up to a face inches away from his own, loudly demanding breakfast before he starved to death.

“Yeah, but like, I’ll die without my snacks.” Ranpo complained, looking around the street as they walked, eyes open for a change. “Are you sure we can’t get just one thing?”

It’s a trap. Fukuzawa thought, refusing to give in to Ranpo’s pleas. “No, Ranpo, we have food at home. You’ll just have to wait until we get back.”

Ranpo groaned, throwing his head back dramatically, mouth open with a complaint on the tip of his tongue. Fukuzawa waited for the begging and whining to begin when suddenly, something caught Ranpo’s attention, the boy coming to a stop. Pausing beside his ward, Fukuzawa stared at Ranpo, wondering just what was going through the boy’s mind when he sprinted towards the stairs that led to a street that Fukuzawa knew, had a sweet shop on it, calling over his shoulder. “At least let me look!”

“Ranpo, wait!” Fukuzawa called, watching as time seemed to slow around him.

Ranpo tripped at the top of the stairs before he could stop himself.

Fukuzawa lunged towards Ranpo, hand outstretched, even as he knew he wouldn’t make it in time, watching as Ranpo disappeared from view. “Ranpo!” He came to a stop at the top of the stairs, watching as Ranpo tumbled down the stairs, coming to a halt at the platform halfway down. Fukuzawa stared, heart pounding in his chest as Ranpo lay there, green eyes wide as they looked up at him. He’s fine, he’s fine, probably just a little winded. He’s fine, he’s—

Ranpo wailed.

—not fine. Fukuzawa flew down the remaining stairs, falling into a crouch beside Ranpo as the boy curled up into a ball. Tears were falling from Ranpo’s eyes at an alarming pace, his body shaking with each sob, and one arm was being held protectively by the other. These tears were not like the ones from that night where Fukuzawa had scolded his charge, no, these were the kind of tears that came when one was hurting, and hurting bad. Fukuzawa ran his eyes over Ranpo’s body, scanning for any signs of blood, and thankful when he found none. Still, it had been a bad fall, and Ranpo very much could’ve hit his head on the way down. He rested a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and encourage the boy to look at him. "Ranpo, can you tell me if you hit your head?”

Ranpo only cried even harder.

A little bit of panic seeped into Fukuzawa’s being, along with discomfort as a crowd began to form around the two of them; said crowd no doubt causing Ranpo even more distress as the muttered and whispered amongst each other. Not one person stepped forward to offer assistance. “Tch.” Injuries weren’t something that Fukuzawa was accustomed to dealing with, since most of the time, injuries received in his line of work—and previous occupations—were fatal. This was all new territory to him, and for once, he didn’t know what to do.

Stop. Breathe. Think. It was obvious that Ranpo had hurt himself bad, considering that any attempt Fukuzawa made to soothe the boy was met with more wailing. The way that Ranpo was cradling his arm was a pretty clear indicator that that was the source of his pain, although Fukuzawa couldn’t see anything immediately wrong with the limb. But just because he couldn’t see anything didn’t mean that there wasn’t something wrong with it. Broken bones were quite the invisible enemy—aside from when they obviously weren’t—and Ranpo’s fall certainly could’ve broken something.

“Sir, do you need an ambulance?” An elderly gentleman broke free of the crowd, coming to crouch beside Fukuzawa.

“No.” Fukuzawa said, even though he was one second away from dialling the number himself. Yes, Ranpo needed the hospital, but Fukuzawa could get him there himself, just so long as he was careful. “I’m going to take him to the hospital now.”

“Would you like a ride then, sir? My car is just parked at the bottom. You’ll get there quicker.” The old man offered.

It only took a second for Fukuzawa to come to a decision.

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

Fukuzawa watched with careful eyes as the doctor carefully manipulated Ranpo’s arm into the desired position for a cast; Ranpo leaning heavily against him, staring unseeingly at the floor. The drive to the hospital had been fast, as the gentleman had promised, but also stressful as Ranpo had cried the whole way, his face buried into Fukuzawa’s chest. No words had been said, but none needed to be. It was obvious that Ranpo was frightened about what had happened, and wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next. All Fukuzawa could do in that moment was hold Ranpo close and wipe away his tears as they fell.

The verdict had been a broken arm—specifically, a broken elbow and a snapped wrist.

The doctor had called Ranpo lucky, after hearing about the fall that had caused the injury, telling Fukuzawa that while the breaks were bad, there was no need for surgery. A small win, in the grand scheme of things, although the news had still been upsetting to Ranpo. Thankfully, all that was needed was a cast to protect the injured limb, and many weeks of rest, which hopefully, Fukuzawa would be able to convince Ranpo to do.

But first they needed to actually get out of the hospital.

By the time the doctors had finished with all the scans and x-rays, Ranpo had stopped crying—which reminded Fukuzawa that he needed to apologize to the poor reception staff that had to deal with Ranpo’s loud cries in the emergency room as he’d dashed through the doors—but when the doctor had come by to wrap Ranpo’s arm, grabbing it gently, Ranpo had flinched. Hard. Which of course, jostled his broken arm, and the cries that had followed were deafening, and no amount of soothing and reassurances had been enough to get Ranpo calm enough to allow the doctor to finish the job.

Eventually, after several failed attempts, the doctor had resorted to giving Ranpo a mild sedative, leading them to their current situation. Fukuzawa had one arm wrapped around Ranpo’s waist, so that the boy didn’t fall off the bed, and his other hand was soothingly running through black hair. Ranpo didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings, but whether that was the shock running through him or the sedative, Fukuzawa couldn’t tell. Either way, it was a small mercy if it meant that there would be no more tears.

“I just need to grab the supplies from the next room. Can you hold his arm there for me?” The doctor said, waiting for Fukuzawa’s hand to replace his own before leaving the room, returning seconds later like he’d promised and got to work. “In a week, you’ll need to come back so we can see how the bones are healing, and that’s when we’ll replace this cast with something a little more colorful if that’s what young Ranpo would like.”

Fukuzawa nodded, making a mental note to remember to return. “Worst case scenario?”

“Worst case is that the bones are showing signs of healing incorrectly, which means we would have to perform surgery to correct it.” The doctor explained. “It’s not a life-threatening surgery by all means, but it does mean a longer recovery time. But it’s only a small number of cases that are worst case. I’m confident that the arm will mend itself properly.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa said. “And, apologies for the disturbance we caused in the waiting room.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’s not the first kid that’s come through screaming like a banshee with a broken limb, and he won’t be the last. Is this his first break?”

“I believe so. He came into my care just last month.” Fukuzawa wanted to argue that Ranpo had not been screaming like a banshee, but the argument soon died on his lips when he realized that while no, Ranpo had not been screaming, he had certainly been loud enough for the comparison to be made. It had almost been enough to make Fukuzawa turn around and try to treat the injury himself.

The doctor nodded, letting the silence grow in favour of completing his work as fast as possible; probably before Ranpo’s awareness returned. Fukuzawa was content to watch the process, although as the cast took shape, he couldn’t help but frown. It didn’t look very comfortable. “This is my first time dealing with such an injury. Is there anything I should know?” He asked.

The doctor hummed. “Well, don’t let it get wet. If it does need to go near water, then wrap it in some plastic—just make sure it’s watertight. And I’d keep something long and thin on hand as well. Casts can make the wearers rather itchy. Most people use knitting needles I’ve found, although a ruler works just as well. And obviously, don’t let him use the arm, even if he says it doesn’t hurt.”

Fukuzawa nodded, filing the information away for later. He certainly didn’t have any knitting needles at home, but he was sure he had a ruler somewhere in his home that Ranpo would be able to use.

“Fukuzawa-san?” Ranpo’s hoarse voice had him looking down into eyes that were slowly filling with tears again. Oh no. “It hurts.”

“I know, Ranpo, I know.” Fukuzawa ran a hand up and down Ranpo’s back, hoping to soothe him a little before the crying could start up again. “We’ll be home soon, and then you can rest.” He turned his attention to the doctor. “Is he allowed painkillers?”

The doctor nodded. “Over the counter medicine is fine, but we’ll send you home with something a little stronger just for the first couple of days.”

“Can I go home yet…?” Ranpo asked, a sniffle accompanying his words.

“Yep! I’ll all done, kiddo, so I’ll draw up the paperwork and then you can head home. Get plenty of rest, and no more running near stairs, eh?”

The doctors’ words drew a weak and watery smile from Ranpo, and the boy nodded. “Okay.”

“Six weeks? What am I going to do for six whole weeks?” Ranpo complained, currently attacking the cast on his arm with some markers that Fukuzawa had bought on the way home. Apparently the white colour of the cast was offensive, but to whom, Fukuzawa had no idea, and he had no plans of asking; simply following Ranpo’s directions into buying something colourful to put on the cast. He was just glad that Ranpo was feeling well enough to complain about his situation, the painkillers the doctor had given him before they’d left doing their job. Ranpo suddenly looked up at him. “I can still work, right? It’s not like I need my arm to solve cases.”

“The doctor told you to rest, and that means no work.” Fukuzawa didn’t want to admit that while Ranpo’s words were true, and that he didn’t need his arm to solve crime, he simply didn’t want Ranpo to somehow end up injured further; criminals were unpredictable when cornered after all.

“But we need money. You were complaining about being poor before I fell, which is half the reason I fell in the first place anyway.”

Fukuzawa’s eye twitched. “You did not fall because of lack of money. You fell because you refused to take ‘no’ for an answer and tried to go off on your own. And as for money, we’ll be fine. I can pick up some work while you recover.”

“And, what? Leave me here all alone? No thanks.”

Fukuzawa sighed, but dropped the discussion before it could become an argument. He could tell from the way Ranpo had tensed up that the issue wasn’t because the kid would get bored if he was left behind, but from the fact that Ranpo feared if Fukuzawa left without him, he wouldn’t return. It was something they’d have to work on in the future, but for now it could wait. Instead, he sought to reassure Ranpo. “You just focus on healing. Let me worry about everything else.”

Ranpo nodded, looking like he wanted to say something else, but unable to find the words. A first for the boy that could look you dead in the eyes and bare your deepest and darkest secrets to the world like they were common knowledge. But Fukuzawa was nothing if not a patient man, so he continued to sit quietly in his chair and waited.

After another minute or so of silence, Ranpo lifted his head and held out one of the markers towards him. “Here.”

Fukuzawa blinked, not quite understanding what it was that Ranpo was asking of him.

“Ugh, are you stupid, come and help me turn this ugly white plaster into something better.” Ranpo waved the marker around dramatically. Fukuzawa couldn’t help but roll his eyes, even as he eased himself onto the floor and took the marker from Ranpo’s hands.

One year into taking care with Ranpo, Fukuzawa was confident that he could handle Ranpo efficiently and effectively. It was quite simple really when one gave it some thought; Ranpo was a person that snacked rather than ate actual meals, so keeping up a steady supply of snack foods was a must—although convincing him to eat at least one meal a day had been a long, hard battle that Fukuzawa had ultimately emerged the victor of. Ranpo was also someone who became destructive when bored, and Fukuzawa was amazed that the apartment they called home hadn’t erupted into flames from yet another baking experiment Ranpo had tried when he’d stepped out of the house for just a couple of hours. The solution to that was to try and keep his mind occupied. Try being the key word there, since Ranpo was a genius and he figured out things in a matter of seconds. Fukuzawa had managed to get a hold of some novels from foreign authors—ones that revolved around mysteries of course—letting Ranpo work his way through them, even if he wasn’t familiar with the language they were written in.

It had been strange to come home to an quiet house, Ranpo on the couch with his nose stuck in a book. Fukuzawa couldn’t remember the name of the author, only remembering how Ranpo had gushed about the genius way of writing mysteries this author accomplished. He faintly recalled that the name was similar to Ranpo’s own name, but he’d been more focused on Ranpo sitting still at the time.

If he ever met the author of those books though, then Fukuzawa would be sure to thank them.

Fukuzawa had heard from other parents that had raised teenagers—he’d sought out some help from some kind mothers after Ranpo had gotten upset at being stuck at home when he’d broken his arm; the kind women offering all kinds of advice for dealing with teenagers, advice he wasn’t sure he could really apply to Ranpo, but still appreciated all the same—that teens were supposed to be difficult and hard to manage, always arguing with authority figures and pushing boundaries. And while Ranpo liked to test his patience at times, the teen was more than content to hang around by his side. There’d been one day, where Fukuzawa had suggested maybe finding Ranpo a hobby so he could make friends his own age, and the look of contempt he’d received in response had been enough for him to never bring that discussion up again.

All in all, Ranpo was a rather easy child to look after, but only once you’d taken the time and effort to actually understand him.

That didn’t mean that Ranpo wasn’t without faults of course, and neither was Fukuzawa as they navigated this difficult journey that was parenting, together. There were many a times where Fukuzawa had yelled because Ranpo had pushed all his buttons in just the right way, leaving Ranpo shying away from him, even after he’d apologized. And there were times where Ranpo would sulk and become the very definition of a ‘terrible teen’, usually after being denied some kind of sweet after he’d already eaten more than enough sweets to last a lifetime. But they were just small things, bumps in the road that with some communication, could easily be navigated about.

It was the larger bumps, that were more like gaping holes in the road, that became increasingly difficult to navigate. Those larger bumps usually lasted the entire day—sometimes several—and there was nothing to do but wait for them to pass. There were days where Fukuzawa could only remember the sheer amount of blood he’d spilt in his past, seeing red wherever he looked, and would be terrified to touch Ranpo at all, in fear of hurting the boy and adding more blood to his hands. Which of course, set Ranpo off into thinking, despite how illogical it was, that Fukuzawa had finally grown tired of him and would soon abandon him, and he’d try to get closer to Fukuzawa, which, honestly, just made things worse for the both of them. They’d managed to come to a compromise of sorts on those days, where Fukuzawa would wear something tied around his wrist, so that Ranpo could grab onto it when he needed reassurance, and Fukuzawa could avoid physical contact until he was ready for it.

Then there were the days where Ranpo would not speak. At all. He wouldn’t even leave his room, no matter what Fukuzawa tried to bribe him with. Sometimes, Ranpo could be coaxed into the living room and onto the couch, but still, he wouldn’t make a sound. Those days, Fukuzawa had no idea what to do, as none of the parenting knowledge he’d gained over the past year could’ve prepared him for days where the child he’d taken in would just lay there as if he was a mere corpse. The best Fukuzawa had been able to do was to sit in Ranpo’s room by his bedside and read aloud, or sit them both on the couch and watch a random children’s movie; things that didn’t require much thought, for Ranpo at least. Those days, Ranpo’s thoughts were closed off to everyone but himself, private and only for him to know, and Fukuzawa could only sit by his side and wait for him to return.

But it had been a week of having a silent Ranpo around the house, and Fukuzawa was starting to get concerned.

There was never anything that triggered these days in his ward, at least none he could identify, but they usually never lasted more than a day, so Fukuzawa figured it was fine for him to start worrying. Everyone had bad days, but this had become more than just a bad day at this point. Right now, Ranpo was sitting at the table, slowly working his way through a piece of fruit. It was almost dinner time, and it was the first thing Ranpo had eaten all day, but unlike the previous days where Fukuzawa had had to practically force Ranpo into eating, Ranpo had emerged from his room all on his own, taken the banana, and sat at the table.

It was the perfect opportunity to observe his ward. Fukuzawa studied Ranpo’s slumped posture, the heavy bags under his eyes, and the slight glaze to his eyes; all indicators of lack of sleep. Not that Fukuzawa was unaware that Ranpo wasn’t sleeping. He was a light sleeper, so he often woke during the night to the sound of footsteps wandering the apartment at ridiculous hours, often before he’d hear the television flick on and the noise filtered towards his room. The first night this had happened, Fukuzawa had told Ranpo that he could come to him if he needed to, but so far, Ranpo hadn’t taken him up on his offer.

Silently, Fukuzawa climbed to his feet and moved towards the kitchen, going through the motions of making some hot chocolate, a drink that he knew was soothing to the boy at his table. He didn’t know if Ranpo would even drink it, but he hoped that by giving him the beverage, it would remind Ranpo that he wasn’t alone in dealing with whatever demons it was that plagued him.

Once Fukuzawa was done, he placed the drink in front of Ranpo, and was surprised when the boy’s head tilted up to look at him. No words were said, but Fukuzawa could see the faint gratitude hidden behind the exhaustion, and Ranpo silently wrapped his hands around the cup and drew it closer.

Progress.

That night, Fukuzawa lay on his futon, thinking about what he could do to try and help Ranpo, when he heard his door creak open, soft footsteps making their way towards him. Fukuzawa didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until a figure that could only be Ranpo dropped into his line of sight. And he looked miserable. There were dried tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, and his hair was sticking up all over the place, like he’d been tossing and turning. A sniffle, and a single tear ran down Ranpo’s cheek, and Fukuzawa wordlessly lifted his blanket. Ranpo stared at him for a moment before crawling underneath the covers, burying his face into Fukuzawa’s chest. Fukuzawa dropped the blanket and closed his eyes. No words were said, but none needed to be.

The next night, Fukuzawa didn’t sleep, only because a devastating crash had him bolting out of the room to find Ranpo slumped against the kitchen cabinets with the shattered remains of a glass around him. Ranpo’s entire body had been shaking as his breaths shuddered in and out like he was being strangled as he stared with unseeing eyes at the mess on the floor. Fukuzawa hadn’t said a word, only wrapping Ranpo in his arms and holding him until he’d calmed enough to fall into a restless slumber. Fukuzawa had put the kid to bed and cleaned up the glass.

The third night was when it all came to a head, when a terrifying scream echoed throughout the apartment. In a split second, Fukuzawa had jumped to his feet and run to the source of the scream; Ranpo’s room. A quick scan of the room showed that it was just Ranpo and him, and that Ranpo was still very much asleep as he thrashed about his bedding, whimpers and soft pleas escaping him. Fukuzawa dropped to the floor beside the boy.

“Ranpo! Ranpo!” He called, reaching out a hand to shake Ranpo.

Ranpo’s eyes flew open, and one hand desperately reached to clutch at Fukuzawa’s sleeve as he shot upright, doubling over just a moment later as he retched. Thankfully, nothing came up, but it still tore at Fukuzawa’s heart to see Ranpo in such a state. Why hadn’t he realized that Ranpo had been having nightmares this whole time? “It’s okay, you’re safe. You are safe. Just breathe, Ranpo, breathe.” Fukuzawa soothed, running a hand through Ranpo’s hair to get it out of his face. “You had a nightmare. You aren’t hurt, you are safe.”

“S-Safe?” Ranpo breathed.

“Safe.” Fukuzawa was firm, as he needed to be in the current situation. Firmness would show Ranpo that his words were true and to be trusted; anything else was liable to send the boy into another panic, and that wasn’t what Fukuzawa wanted.

The effects of the nightmare were quickly fading, although Ranpo remained coiled with tension, with the occasional tremor running through his body. But his breathing was no longer fast and panicked, and his eyes were clearing as the last remains of sleep left him. With one deep breath, Ranpo slumped against Fukuzawa. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” Fukuzawa promised. “Let’s go wash your face and get a change of clothes, and then I’ll make us some hot chocolate?”

Ranpo’s fists tightened on the sheets, only to relax as he nodded. Fukuzawa stood, guiding Ranpo up with a gentle grip on his arm, and together they moved from the bedroom to the bathroom in silence, where Fukuzawa stood guard as Ranpo washed the sweat from his face, and now, exhaustion was the only sign that a nightmare had just occurred. The silence continued as Ranpo changed out of his sweat-drenched clothing, and was still ongoing as Fukuzawa made a drink for the both of them, Ranpo sitting on the couch, waiting.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Fukuzawa asked as he sat beside Ranpo, handing the boy the warm mug before taking a sip from his own.

Ranpo shook his head, and then nodded. Another shake of his head, and finally, a shrug. “I don’t know.” The boy finally whispered; his voice almost swallowed by the darkness of the room.

“That’s okay.”

The mug in his hand was warm, and Fukuzawa turned his attention to it. It wasn’t often that he had hot chocolate, only really drinking it once Ranpo had come into his care and demanded it of him. “How can you not have hot chocolate in this place? It’s like, the best drink you can get, other than ramune of course!” So, Fukuzawa had gone out the next day and bought what he needed to make the beverage, and it had been worth it to see Ranpo look so excited. Now it was more of a comfort drink, only really coming out whenever one—or both—of them needed something soothing to drink. Sometimes, it was tea, but most of the times, the chocolate won out.

“It was my parents.” Ranpo’s voice broke the silence after what felt like hours. “The nightmare that is. It’s… it’s close to the date they died.”

That wasn’t what Fukuzawa had been expecting, but then again, he had never asked much about Ranpo’s parents other than what they’d been like, and their names. He knew they’d died in an accident, but Ranpo had never elaborated on the topic, and Fukuzawa had never pushed for an answer. Still, it made sense for Ranpo to struggle when it came close to the anniversary of their deaths; from what he knew, they hadn’t been dead long, and Ranpo probably hadn’t been able to process the grief from then properly on account of needing to find a job to survive.

The past week and a half of silence suddenly made perfect sense.

“I see. Is there something I can do?” Fukuzawa asked, even though he knew what the answer was going to be.

Ranpo shook his head. “Not really. This happened last time too. It’ll pass.”

But you shouldn’t have to suffer alone. Fukuzawa found himself thinking. Then, an idea came to him. “Would it help if you went to visit them? Their graves, I mean.”

Ranpo’s head turned to face him, eyes widening. There was a glimmer of hope in those green orbs, but it quickly faded, replaced with a defeated look. “We have work, though.”

Fukuzawa neglected to bring up the fact that they hadn’t done any work in nearly two weeks because of Ranpo’s melancholy, knowing that it would only make the boy feel worse than he already did. “Work can wait. Your wellbeing is much more important. So, if you wish to visit your parents, we can go. But only if you want to.”

“I do.” Ranpo said quickly. There was a brief pause before, “tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” Fukuzawa promised. He placed his empty mug on the coffee table in front of him and turned to face Ranpo. “Do you wish to stay with me tonight?”

“Is that alright?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t.”

Ranpo nodded, and got up when Fukuzawa did, following him to the kitchen so that they could place their mugs in the sink, before following him to his room where he squashed himself into Fukuzawa’s side, seeking as much comfort as he could get. Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to get comfortable before drawing the blankets over the both of them, resting a comforting arm over Ranpo’s side.

Compared to Yokohama, the countryside was vastly different; more beautiful and peaceful compared to the chaotic mess that was the city with one of the largest underground crime in the country. Fukuzawa felt a little foolish to be as tensed and alert as he was compared to the rest of the country folk passing them by, but old habits were hard to break, and well, bad people weren’t just limited to the city either. Only this time, the enemy might be a recognizable one.

For once, Fukuzawa was the one following Ranpo, the boy’s usually lack of directional sense strangely absent, although it made sense since this was the hometown where he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Ranpo had had no idea where he was going, and had resigned himself to asking for directions when they’d disembarked from the train—that he’d had to purchase the tickets for because Ranpo still didn’t understand how trains worked—only to have Ranpo leave the station and start walking, Fukuzawa quickly moving to keep up lest he be left behind.

Ranpo was still quiet, but unlike the oppressive silence that had hung around the previous week, it was the kind of silence that came about when Ranpo was thinking about something; the kind where Fukuzawa would also remain silent and wait for Ranpo to speak. And if he didn’t end up saying anything, then that was fine too.

By the time they’d reached the cemetery where Ranpo’s parents lay, they still hadn’t said anything, and Fukuzawa hung back a respectful distance while Ranpo went on ahead and knelt in front of the gravestones, his mouth moving as he spoke words too quiet for Fukuzawa to hear.

He raised his head towards the heavens.

Don’t worry. Your son is in good hands.

One thing that Fukuzawa was eternally grateful for, was the immune system of steel that Ranpo seemed to have. He'd seen many a sick child in his life, and had fully expected Ranpo to fall victim to the series of colds and flus that ran rampant about the city during the colder months, only to discover that bacteria and germs seemed to avoid Ranpo like the plague. Fukuzawa was only a little annoyed that he’d gotten sick more often than Ranpo, especially since most of those times had been because of Ranpo in the first place.

So, yeah, Fukuzawa was grateful that Ranpo seemed allergic to sickness, because the last thing he wanted to see was how Ranpo handled being sick—he imagined it would be days filled of complaints—considering just what the boy was like whenever he sustained an injury. It was just a lot of energy that Fukuzawa strongly believed he shouldn’t have to exert in the first place. But he did. Because if he didn’t, then Ranpo would surely get himself into even more trouble and the cycle would never end.

But just because Ranpo had never been sick in Fukuzawa’s presence, didn’t mean that the genius detective was immune to sickness entirely. No human was, at least, none that he knew personally, which wasn’t a lot of people when he thought about it.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised that the one time Ranpo had fallen sick in his care, he’d fallen sick.

Shivers ran up his spine at the memory.

It started with a summer storm.

Wind and rain lashed at the trees and buildings, the wind rendering umbrella’s useless within seconds, and the rain soaking everyone to the bone, no matter the kind of rain gear they wore. It wouldn’t have been as bad if it had just been the wind and rain, but no, it was the kind of rain that made the temperature plummet, during the warm summer day into a freezing winter afternoon in the span of an hour. It was a truly miserable day, and not one that Fukuzawa would’ve left home for, but the police had begged him and Ranpo for some assistance with their latest case, and upon hearing the details of the case, Ranpo had become curious enough to want to brave the storm. Fukuzawa had simply sighed and made sure Ranpo was appropriately dressed for the weather before he put one foot out the door.

In the end, the criminal had been apprehended and he and Ranpo had been free to go home.

A sniffle behind him drew Fukuzawa’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder at the sodden boy trailing behind him. While the two of them were both soaked to the bone, Ranpo was more water than person at this point, on account of being thrown into the river when he’d uncovered the killer’s identity. As it turned out, the killer had had no qualms about taking Ranpo with him as he’d pulled them both over the bridge railing, a last ditch effort to escape the police. It had failed of course—thank god—and they’d extricated both the killer and Ranpo from the river, and Fukuzawa’s heart could finally stop racing. Now all they had to do was head home, get dry, and not leave the house again until the storm was over.

Another sniffle behind him. “Ranpo, are you alright?” Fukuzawa asked, coming to a halt when he noticed that Ranpo had been trailing behind a bit further than he had been just before.

“I just got thrown into a river, what do you think?” Ranpo snapped, refusing to look Fukuzawa in the eyes as his cheeks burned red. Ah. Ranpo was embarrassed about needing to be saved. It wasn’t the first time that a criminal had tried to take a shot at hurting Ranpo, or killing him, but most of the time Ranpo had already accounted for the fact that that might happen, so had usually taken precautions—without telling the people around him of course. The amount of times Ranpo had stood there and let a criminal charge at him with a grin on his face was enough to turn Fukuzawa’s already silver hair even more silver. All Fukuzawa could see in those moments was a gun pointed a fourteen-year-old boy’s face, and he reacted, just like Ranpo had planned. Fukuzawa had half a mind to let Ranpo get shot or stabbed one of these days, if only to make the boy realize that he wasn’t as invincible as he appeared to believe. But he wouldn’t. Because Fukuzawa cared for Ranpo like he was his own son and it would hurt him to see Ranpo hurt just to prove a point.

But this time, they hadn’t been able to predict the killer’s intent, not until Ranpo and killer were already falling, and Fukuzawa had stared into young, terrified eyes, ready to leap into the river after him when an officer had dragged him away, not wanting anyone else to go for a swim in the tumultuous river, and they’d dashed along the river bank with the rest of the officers at the scene. It was only because another police patrol had been upriver that they’d managed to rescue Ranpo anyway; the officers having heard the commotion over the radio and prepared for a quick rescue. Fukuzawa had thanked the officers profusely whilst Ranpo had coughed up river water beside him, looking worse for wear.

“No one expected the killer to try and escape in a flooded river, Ranpo. It was an oversight on our part to not keep a closer eye on him once he’d been cornered.” Fukuzawa said carefully, knowing that if he didn’t choose his carefully, he was going to have a furious Ranpo on his hands.

And really, Fukuzawa just wanted to go home.

“I should’ve noticed it!” Ranpo sniffed again, wiping the back of his hand across his nose in a motion that had Fukuzawa disgusted. “World’s Greatest Detective and I didn’t think of the river as an escape route? Why? Just because the river was a little higher than it normally is? That’s no excuse!”

The river being a little higher than normal was an understatement; the severity of the storm had sent it into flood, and the wind allowed the water to lash the sides of the bank viciously, threatening to snatch up anyone that dared stray to close to it. But for the sake of not starting an argument, Fukuzawa hummed and allowed Ranpo to walk in front of him as he ranted angrily. Fukuzawa had learnt that it was sometimes best to let Ranpo say what he needed to say when he was angry or upset, and then help the boy work through it all; or in some cases, just sit beside him until Ranpo was back to his cheerful self.

Ranpo was still ranting by the time they arrived home, but this time about something else entirely that Fukuzawa was only half paying attention to. “Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said, interrupting the boy mid-rant. Ranpo looked at him. “Go and take a shower before you catch a cold.”

“You’re the one that should go first, Fukuzawa-san. I don’t get sick, remember?” Ranpo frowned as he pulled his shoes off and removed his coat, leaving puddles of water in the entryway.

“Just go, Ranpo.”

“Ugh, fine.” Ranpo shuffled off towards the bathroom, the door closing behind him with a click. Without grabbing an extra set of clothes. Fukuzawa sighed and removed his own coat, vowing to clean up the mess later once he was dry, and made his way to his room to get changed. Once he was dressed in dry and warm clothing, he carefully made his way towards Ranpo’s room, doing his best to navigate the mess that Fukuzawa had asked the boy to clean up multiple times, only to be told that everything was where it was for a reason. Fukuzawa hadn’t argued, only made Ranpo promise to keep it a tidy mess if it truly had to be set out that way—it did—and Ranpo had looked annoyed, but agreed to do so.

At least there was a clear path to the boy’s wardrobe where he dug out the softest clothing, he knew Ranpo owned; an oversized sweatshirt that dwarfed Ranpo’s already small size, some pants that Fukuzawa no longer knew the origin of, and fluffy socks. He could not and would not forget the socks; Ranpo despised not wearing socks, even during summer, and Fukuzawa had only made the mistake of forgetting socks once. Clothes in hand, Fukuzawa left the room and dropped the bundle in front of the door, knocking to let Ranpo know they were there, before making his way to the kitchen to make warm drinks for the both of them.

“Fukuzawa-san?” Ranpo poked his head around the corner, dry and dressed, but looking positively exhausted, not that Fukuzawa could blame him after taking an unwanted swim.

“Yes, Ranpo?” Fukuzawa paused in what he was doing, just about to make up Ranpo’s drink.

“I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Bed? Now? It’s only just after lunch. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked instead, a frown on his face as he crossed the room to stand in front of Ranpo, reaching out a hand to palm the boy’s forehead.

Ranpo slapped his hand away. “I’m fine, just tired.”

“Hmm… alright then. Leave your door open though. I’ll close it when I go to bed.” Usually, Fukuzawa didn’t care if Ranpo’s door was open or closed; the boy was entitled to his privacy after all, but sometimes, like right now, he’d ask the door to be left open just a bit, that way he could keep an ear out in case Ranpo needed help. And after a near-fatal swim, Fukuzawa felt like his concern was valid enough to make the request reasonable.

It didn’t stop Ranpo from turning up his nose, but when he disappeared into his room, the door was left partially open.

Fukuzawa sat on the couch alone, quietly drinking his tea. All the while keeping an eye on the room down the hall.

The next morning, Fukuzawa woke up early as usual, and set about cleaning up the mess that he’d neglected to the previous day on account of being worried about Ranpo; picking up still soaked clothing and throwing them into the washer, mopping up puddles of water, before tottering around and tidying up the rest of the house. The act of cleaning was soothing to him, it allowed him to just stop thinking for a change and perform acts that didn’t require much thought. And it was made even better by the fact that the sun was shining through the window, the storm from yesterday long gone, with the only signs of such a storm having existed in the first place being the puddles of water lying about on the roads. In fact, it was such a nice day now, that Fukuzawa elected to open the door to the balcony, allowing a slightly cool breeze to move throughout the apartment.

Usually, after such a bad storm, the weather the next day became miserable, especially when those kinds of storms happened during summer. But there was something in the way the storm was formed—a bunch of technical terms that Fukuzawa didn’t feel like trying to decipher—that brought a cool change instead of humidity and misery. It was pleasant. Too pleasant. Fukuzawa frowned, glancing at the clock from where he’d been doing the dishes. It was well past the time that Ranpo would be awake and chattering away, and yet, he hadn’t heard anything from the kids room since he went to bed early yesterday. Surely, he’s not still asleep?

Fukuzawa dried his heads and moved down the hallway, poking his head into Ranpo’s room, finding Ranpo still on his futon; dead asleep, blankets discarded like usual. Fukuzawa was about to leave Ranpo to get his rest—he had been working hard after all—when Ranpo broke out into a fit of coughing. Not the kind of coughing that one did to clear a throat, but the kind of deep, wet, coughs that could only have come from Ranpo’s time in the river. Fukuzawa’s stomach clenched; he should’ve gotten Ranpo checked out before they came home. Concerned now, Fukuzawa stepped into the room and came to kneel beside Ranpo, laying the back of his hand against Ranpo’s forehead.

A fever.

Not good.

“Ranpo.” Another round of coughing greeted Fukuzawa’s attempt at waking, the horrid sounds enough to have Fukuzawa reach underneath Ranpo’s arms and pull him upright so that the boy would be able to breathe easier.

Ranpo’s eyes flew open at the motion, and the coughing fit grew more intense. Fukuzawa shifted so that he could continue to hold Ranpo upright, but still run a hand up and down the kids spine, quietly encouraging Ranpo to try and take a breath in between coughs. Eventually, the fit died away, and Ranpo slumped against him, head drooping in a way that his hair was hiding his eyes. Not that Fukuzawa had to look into Ranpo’s eyes to know that they would be glazed over with fever. He could feel the heat radiating off of Ranpo’s body from where it was touching his own, even through the layers of clothing they both wore.

Ranpo mumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?” Fukuzawa frowned, not catching what was said.

“…n’t feel… good.” Ranpo repeated, voice a little louder, but still quiet.

“You have a fever.” Fukuzawa explained. “I’m going to help you to the couch. You’ll be able to breathe easier if you’re sitting up.” Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to nod before he helped the boy stand up, carefully guiding him towards the couch where Ranpo collapsed against the arm of it and let out a miserable groan.

Fukuzawa tucked the blanket he’d grabbed around Ranpo’s shoulders, leaving Ranpo to be miserable on the couch while he went to find some medicine and water. He was certain that he’d kept a stock of medicine on hand that was suitable for someone Ranpo’s age in the event of the day that Ranpo actually fell ill, but he couldn’t recall where he’d placed it. Since they’d never needed to use it before, Fukuzawa hadn’t paid attention to where it had gone in the move from his old apartment to the current one. And as he searched the cupboards in both the bathroom and kitchen, he couldn’t help but sigh as the medicine eluded him. He didn’t want to have to leave Ranpo on his own in order to go shopping, even if it wouldn’t take him that long.

He glanced at his phone on the kitchen counter, an idea forming in his mind.

No, he couldn’t. They hadn’t spoken in years, and he was more than capable of taking care of a sick child on his own.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa crouched in front of Ranpo, a cup of water in hand. “I need to go out and get some medicine for you. I—”

“Why?” Ranpo interrupted, eyes opening to slowly blink at him. He accepted the water that Fukuzawa held out to him, sipping on it slowly.

“Because you’re sick. You have a fever and a cough, and medicine will make you feel better.”

Ranpo screwed up his face. “Don’t need it. Tastes gross.”

Fukuzawa sighed. “It will help you. Or do you want to be sick for longer than you need to be?”

At his words, Ranpo glared—well, as much of a glare as he could muster in his current state—and sharply turned his head away, only to groan and drop it against the arm of the couch.

A headache too. Fukuzawa made a note to grab some painkillers as well. “I’ll have my phone with me. Call if you need something.”

Ranpo made a disapproving noise, but didn’t protest further when Fukuzawa draped another blanket over him left the apartment. He wouldn’t be gone long, half an hour at the max; there was no way that Ranpo could get himself into trouble in such a short time frame… right?

Why are there so many different kinds of medicine? Why are there so many flavours? Just have one! Fukuzawa sighed as he exited the pharmacy when a bag in hand, everything he’d need to help Ranpo get better as soon as possible. The worker had been nice and patient with him, listening as he described Ranpo's symptoms and admitting that Ranpo didn’t get sick often which was why he hadn’t had any medicine on him in the first place. He was almost certain that some of the stuff the worker had forced him to purchase, he didn’t actually need, but he also wasn’t going to argue against someone who was trained in that field of knowledge. Besides, if he didn’t need it this time, he would have it on hand for when he did need it.

“If he doesn’t get sick often, then prepare yourself for the worst. Kids that don’t get sick often, tend to be hit harder when they do get sick.”

Those were the words the worker had sent him off with, genuine concern on their face as he’d left the store. And honestly, Fukuzawa hadn’t even thought about that scenario at all. He’d simply assumed that Ranpo had fallen ill because of the storm and the river—and he most certainly had—but he hadn’t stopped to consider just how sick Ranpo would get from his adventures. A sliver of doubt weaved through him, suddenly unsure if he was fit to take care of a sick child. It wasn’t something he’d done before. Fukuzawa took a deep breath, exhaling all his worries into the wind. Stressing would bring nothing but second guesses and harmful actions. He’d give Ranpo the medicine he’d bought, and then he’d do a bit of research on how to handle a sick child.

There, he had a plan.

Only to have said plan fly out the window when he walked inside the apartment to find Ranpo on his hands and knees, currently in the process of emptying his stomach contents onto the floor. Fukuzawa’s breath hitched, and he dropped the bag on the table before hurrying to Ranpo’s side, sliding one arm underneath Ranpo’s chest to hold him up, the other moving to brush Ranpo’s hair out of his face. Tears were running down Ranpo’s cheeks as he vomited once more, and the kid began to sob out an apology as he noticed Fukuzawa’s presence. “So-sorry—I’m—”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s my fault for not leaving you a bucket.” Fukuzawa soothed, pulling Ranpo away from the mess once he’d stopped heaving, getting him settled back on the couch. He couldn’t help but frown; Ranpo hadn’t mentioned anything about being nauseous before he’d left, and he hadn’t looked that sick. Was he feeling worse than Fukuzawa had initially thought? “I’ve got you some medicine. Let me clean up, and I’ll give you some, okay?”

Ranpo nodded, face flushed mostly from the fever, but also embarrassment, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, sniffling pitifully. “Water?”

“Of course.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to clean up, although, if possible, Fukuzawa would very much rather not do it again. He returned to Ranpo’s side with the bag of medicine, a few bottles of water and a bucket, opening one of the bottles for Ranpo to drink. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Was Ranpo’s response, and not an overly helpful one.

“I’m not a mind reader, Ranpo, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Fukuzawa said, with a little bit of impatience in his voice, but not towards Ranpo; never towards Ranpo, who was feeling so sick and miserable right now, but towards himself for being incompetent to not know how to help.

Ranpo groaned, shoving his face into the arm of the couch.

Fukuzawa waited.

“Head hurts. Stomach hurts. Everything hurts.” Ranpo eventually complained.

“Anything else? Are you too hot? Too cold?”

“Hot.”

“Okay.” Fukuzawa turned his attention to the bag, rummaging through it and pulling out the different kinds of medicines, taking the time to read the boxes to figure out what medication did what, all whilst Ranpo was watching him warily. The first one he grabbed was something to treat cold and flu symptoms; all of which Ranpo seemed to have, whilst another was to combat fever, and there was even one that took care of nausea. The pharmacist really had given him everything he could’ve possibly needed. “Do you think you can keep something down?”

Ranpo’s face lost what little colour it still had at the prospect of ingesting anything. The boy fidgeted with the blanket that he’d dragged across his lap, which certainly wouldn’t have been helping his ‘too hot’ problem.

“We’ll wait then.” Fukuzawa was quick to say. “How about we get you into some cooler clothes first, and then we can try and get some of this into you?”

Ranpo let out a whine, and leaned forward to rest his head on Fukuzawa’s shoulder. Fukuzawa sighed, knowing that that was about as much of a ‘yes’ as he was going to get. Without a word, he lifted Ranpo effortlessly, cringing a little at how sweaty Ranpo was because of the fever. Maybe a shower was needed as well.

The apartment was silent, and Fukuzawa sat on the couch, Ranpo’s head in his lap, as he watched a movie with the volume low enough so that he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping boy in his lap. One of his hands was running through Ranpo’s now clean hair, soothing Ranpo while he dozed. Fukuzawa had forced Ranpo to shower, although the boy had insisted he didn’t need help with that, so Fukuzawa left Ranpo to his own devices and went to make a light meal for the kid, hoping to get some food into Ranpo’s stomach. Food was supposed to help sick people recover faster, wasn’t it? And he knew that Ranpo ate soup, since Fukuzawa had made it before, and it had been eaten. So it seemed like a safe option to do.

While he’d been cooking, Ranpo had emerged from the bathroom, making his way to the living room before he slid down the wall and buried his face into his knees. Ranpo, now wearing a t-shirt and shorts—and socks, because try as he might, Fukuzawa had not been able to convince Ranpo to not wear them while he was sick—looked at him pitifully from his spot on the floor. Soup almost done, Fukuzawa had turned the stove down and moved over to help Ranpo up and over to the couch. The blanket, too hot for how high Ranpo’s fever was, had been replaced by a thin sheet that Ranpo had quickly covered himself with.

The biggest challenge for the day had been convincing Ranpo to eat the soup and take the medicine; there’d been tears from Ranpo, and frustration from Fukuzawa as they’d argued over it, but ultimately, he’d managed to get Ranpo to eat a little bit and down the pills that would help him. Fukuzawa was just glad that the medication had been pills and not the foul liquid he remembered from his own childhood, because there was no way he’d have been able to convince Ranpo to drink his medicine.

Now, Ranpo was asleep, and would hopefully sleep off the rest of the sickness that was plaguing him.

Fukuzawa closed his own eyes, ready to catch up on some rest. It was more exhausting than he thought it would be, to take care of someone who was sick, and he didn’t understand how other parents did it on a regular basis.

Why is it hot? Was Fukuzawa’s first thought as he woke up to a darkened apartment, wincing at the pain in his neck as he became more aware of his surroundings. He was still on the couch, which explained his soreness, and Ranpo was still asleep, but something was wrong. Ranpo’s breathing was more like wheezing now, and his face was flushed a bright red, pinched with pain as he was wracked by a coughing fit.

And he was hot.

Fukuzawa wasted no time in placing a hand on Ranpo’s forehead, wincing at how high the fever at become; it was almost as if Ranpo had never taken any medicine in the first place. “Ranpo.” Fukuzawa shook Ranpo’s shoulder, sliding out from underneath the boy, only to have Ranpo not respond to him at all. “Ranpo!”

With no response, Fukuzawa’s worry gave way to fear. Ranpo was really, really, sick, and he didn’t know what to do. His phone caught his eye as he paced the room, and Fukuzawa scrunched up his face. There was only one thing he could do, really.

He crossed the room and snatched up the device, dialling a familiar number.

The phone picked up on the third ring. “What are you calling so late for?”

Fukuzawa sighed. He was already regretting his decision “I need help.”

Ranpo let out another whimper, Fukuzawa hushing his ward, even though Ranpo was completely unaware of what was going on around him. Fukuzawa could feel eyes looking at him from the front seat of the car, but he ignored them in favour of providing whatever comfort he could give. Of course, he was grateful to Fukichi for coming so quick without him saying anything, and helping Fukuzawa bundle Ranpo’s tiny form into a blanket and into the back seat of the car before climbing into the driver’s seat to drive them to the hospital.

They were almost there and they still hadn’t said a word to each other, the tension so thick, Fukuzawa was surprised it wasn’t visible. The fault was his, of course; Fukichi hadn’t made it a secret that he wasn’t pleased about Fukuzawa’s lack of contribution in the war, and Fukuzawa himself had done nothing to try and repair their fracturing friendship. They’d had limited conversations over the years, but had barely spoken to each other since Fukuzawa had taken Ranpo on as his ward.

Still, it would be rude of him to not thank the man at least for coming in the middle of the night to his aide. “Thank you for this.”

Another longer glance this time before the eyes went back to the road. “You sounded terrified. Which is a first for you, so of course I had to come.” Fukichi looked back once more. “The kid’ll be alright.”

Fukuzawa hummed, looking down at the fever flushed face resting against him. He hoped so.

Fukichi dropped them off at the emergency room, asking Fukuzawa to let him know how things went before driving off into the night. Fukuzawa made sure that Ranpo was secure before making his way into the hospital, the situation oddly similar to the time he’d rushed in with a wailing Ranpo after he’d broken his arm. And Fukuzawa didn’t know if it was fate, or if he was just extremely, but it was the same receptionists as the last time the two of them had been here, and they took one look at Fukuzawa before assuring him that help was coming.

Soon, Ranpo was whisked away out of his arms and Fukuzawa was led by a kind nurse to a chair he could wait in. So, Fukuzawa waited… and waited… and waited, before finally, the doctor came to fetch him, leading him to where Ranpo was.

Ranpo looked so tiny in the hospital bed, just laying there on raised pillows, wheezing and coughing like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Fukuzawa crossed the room, reaching down to grab one of Ranpo’s hands with his own. Ranpo didn’t move, didn’t respond to Fukuzawa’s touch as he usually would’ve; he just laid there, looking a little more comfortable than he had on the car ride over.

It was a chest infection, the doctor explained, brought upon by Ranpo inhaling dirty river water in the middle of a storm. The doctor went on to explain that Fukuzawa had done all the right things at the time; keeping Ranpo fed and cool, and giving him medicine, it was simply that infections could only be treated by antibiotics—which Ranpo was now on—and that they tended to flare up quickly. The doctor continued to say that Ranpo would make a full recovery before leaving the room with a promise to send someone to check on them in a few hours.

Fukuzawa sighed, collapsing into the single chair in the room. Honestly, Ranpo was going to be the death of him at this point.

“I’m sorry, Fukuzawa-san, but Ranpo-san has requested that you not enter his room right now.” The nurse said, bowing apologetically towards him as she blocked the doorway.

Fukuzawa frowned. “Why, what’s he done this time?”

“Nothing, sir! And he’s fine as well!” The nurse was quick to say upon seeing the worry creeping onto his face. “Ranpo-san insisted, that’s all. Said it was really important that you not enter for the…” the nurse glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Next twenty minutes.”

A sigh escaped Fukuzawa before he could stop it, but he nodded. “Alright. I shall come back in twenty minutes.”

The nurse bowed again, retreating back inside Ranpo’s room, shutting the door before Fukuzawa could peek and try to see just what trouble his ward was causing. He and Ranpo had been in the hospital for just over a week now, Ranpo finally fighting off the infection in his lungs. It had been a stressful week for Fukuzawa, watching as Ranpo struggled to breathe whenever he was overcome with coughing fits, watching as fever burned through his body, and watching as he cried from the pain of it all. But all through it, Fukuzawa had sat by Ranpo’s bedside, holding his hand and wiping away his tears.

It had been a relief for him when Ranpo’s fever had broken and he’d finally regained consciousness, green eyes blinking at Fukuzawa blearily before Ranpo had asked for something sweet. And if Fukuzawa had shed a few tears upon hearing that annoying request, well then that was his business. Since that day, Ranpo had improved day by day, going from sleeping most of the day to actually being alert and holding a conversation; only being kept in the hospital now until he’d finished the second round of antibiotics the doctors had given him. It was a precaution, the doctor treating Ranpo had said, on account of how sick Ranpo had been when Fukuzawa had brought him in.

Never again, did Fukuzawa want to go through such a thing.

Never.

Before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and like he’d promised, Fukuzawa made his way back to Ranpo’s room, knocking politely on the door. He heard a series of coughs—so different from the horrific ones caused by the infection—come from inside before Ranpo’s voice called for him to enter. Fukuzawa opened the door and entered—

—and was greeted by a cake?

“What is this?” Fukuzawa blinked down at the cake in the nurse’s hands. It was chocolate, and was decorated with sprinkles and what looked to be a couple of stick figures; he couldn’t quite tell exactly what it was supposed to be. He looked up at Ranpo, only just noticing the way that there was icing smeared across the boy’s face and fingers, and the slightly hesitant look in his eyes.

“It’s a cake, duh! What else did you think it would be?” Ranpo said, coughing only twice before crawling out of bed to come and stand in front of Fukuzawa. Only a second passed before arms wrapped around his waist and Fukuzawa became even more confused as Ranpo hugged him. He didn’t hesitate to drop one of his arms to rest on Ranpo’s shoulders.

“And where did you get a cake from?” Fukuzawa asked.

“I baked it!” Ranpo looked up at him and grinned. “The nurses helped me!”

“I see.” Fukuzawa took the cake from the nurse, who bowed and scurried out of the room. “Why did you bake a cake?”

Ranpo’s face went bright red, and he hid his face. “It’s to say thank you.”

“Thank you?” Fukuzawa had an idea now of where this was going and smiled. He wanted to hear what Ranpo wanted to say without the boy making him try and guess.

“Yeah. For, you know, taking care of me and all that.” Ranpo said. He sounded a little embarrassed now, and Fukuzawa realized that this was the first time that Ranpo had done something that was for Fukuzawa and not for himself.

“Did you decorate it yourself?”

Ranpo nodded. “It’s us.”

Ah, so it is. “Well. I definitely can’t eat this all on my own now, can I? Why don’t you give me a hand?”

Ranpo’s head shot up, embarrassment gone like it was never there in the first place, and he nodded, always excited at the prospect of eating sweets. “The nurse gave me forks since I knew you’d suggest that!”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes and followed Ranpo back to his bed, sitting beside his word who was already hoeing into the cake. Fukuzawa picked up a fork and began to help, listening as Ranpo began to talk about the latest hospital gossip, making sure to listen and nod in all the right places.

Finally, it seemed like he was getting this parenting thing under control.

[cheapsweets]

The resolute Ilyecham

My response to this weeks Bestiary Posting challenge, from The Maniculum!

I've been vaguelly considering how to tackle this one all week (and trying to avoid seeing others' interpretations as much as possible). Again, we have a lot of behaviours, but nothing in terms of a physical description... Did the author just thing 'everyone knows what birds look like', was this just a bird that the reader was expected to be familiar with, or were they all like 'I'm not describing yet another bird... :p'?

It's a pen and ink drawing (dark sepia ink, and a sailor fude nib) over a pencil sketch; the fude nib is interesting as it's meant to give the impression of using a brush - the nib is bent to allow transition from thin to thick lines - I've got a lot of practice to go to get that transition right though (I'm tempted to try an actual brush pen for next week's challenge...)!

This time, I actually used some references! Well, I briefly glanced at some, anyhow... I feel like it has made a difference, particularly in terms of the anatomy (though there are several things I'd go back and change if I was doing this over), but I still need to work a bit more on consistency (and maybe not tackling any too-awkward perpectives...!). I had a lot of fun with this one :)

Reasoning below the cut...

"The Ilyecham is a bird armed rather with spirit than with claws, having great courage in its small body. [Etymology redacted]. For it greedily seizes other birds. [Etymology redacted.]" - So, carnivorous bird, emphasis away from it's claws... I had to double check this, but falcons kill prey with their beak (a sharply projecting 'tomial tooth' on their upper beak), whereas hawks use their claws. I tried to show this, but it's such a small details it might not be obvious. Did you know that falcons are more closely related to passerines (perching birds, like sparrows) than they are to hawks/eagles? I always find that absolutely mind-blowing :)

"It is said that the Ilyecham is lacking in parental care towards its young, for when it sees that they are able and trying to fly, it does not feed them but beats them with its wings, throws them from the nest and forces them from a tender age to catch prey for themselves lest, when they are fully grown, they should become lazy." - Hey, chalk up another one to that old adage 'birds are jerks'... I'm starting to think that bestiary authors were not the biggest birb fans... In the top right of the picture, we have a mama ilyecham pushing the baby out of the nest with her wing. Time to find your own way in the world, baby bird! I tried to distinguish the younger bird's plumage with a different pattern (spotted/dotted); the adult plumage was inspired by goshawks (I know, hawk vs falcon), more because it would show up as distinctive in black and white than any other reason.

As an aside, I really struggled with how to draw a slightly stylised bird nest!

"It takes care lest in their childhood they grow idle, or are given up to pleasure, or grow weak from inactivity, or learn to expect food rather than to seek it for themselves, or abandon their natural vigour. Ilyechams stop bothering to feed their young in order to make them bold enough to seize food for themselves." - Hang on, this is going to be some kind of inspirational virtuous animal thing, isn't is... :p I can imagine some medieval scribe writing 'and so, the ilyecham represents the cardinal virtue of fortitude' or something...

"It is the custom of Ilyechams in the wild to spread their wings when the south wind blows, so that their limbs are warmed by the wind to release their old feathers. When there is no wind, they create a breeze by spreading their wings to face the rays of the sun and beating them; and thus, as the pores of their body open, either their old plumage falls out, or new feathers grow in." - In the top left, we have an ilyecham spreading its wings, facing towards the sun, and doing just that! The feathers blowing away were fun to draw!

[datastate]

9, 19 (even tho I know already ehe) aaaand 32 :3

9: do you have a "type"? if so, what is it?

i have felt romantic attraction three (3) times in my entire life, so i fear there isn't yet enough data for this to be conclusive... but i will say! i've never fallen for a blonde person, fiction or otherwise. which is more than my good sibling kid of streets fame can say <3

for a more serious response though, my standards are depressingly low & i feel it's a bit amusing that so few people have really been considered in my mind as actual candidates for a romantic relationship - even before i develop romantic attraction, i've sometimes tried to decide if it's worth pursuing based on a few different factors... though i'm shy to put the details of that here. romance has never been a very important part of my life, but in terms of wanting a long-lasting relationship, it is the most viable option for most who do experience romantic attraction more often than i, and i'd want to be prepared if the question does come.

& for all the jokes, aesthetic attraction plays a very little part in whether or not i'd want someone as my partner. many people pursue me based solely on appearances, and it's certainly made clear to me how shallow it feels to have that as a significant point of interest.

19: describe your fashion sense. do you "dress gayly"?

HOW RUDE...!! ...i may dress gayly, but that is BESIDES THE POINT!!

aheem. in any case. my wardrobe is primarily filled with reds, blacks, and dark purple/blue hues. i typically prefer clothing with a more formal feel to them, often long-sleeved, and i rarely go without wearing my gloves! i do have a few short-sleeved shirts which have fanciful designs on them or where the sleeve hangs nicely... i need to get a new vest, though. and i'd love to buy more skirts (or loose pants that hang like skirts)

in the past, i used to wear much simpler styles. jeans with a leather jacket, hoodie, or a flannel. i still have my first girlfriend's flannel in my closet bwehehe... it's been there for years.

but of course...! when i'm at home, i typically opt for what is the most comfortable, so i end up reusing the same few outfits if i know i'm not heading out that day :P it's usually simple formal black pants & whatever soft shirt i have around.

as many of my friends have claimed... i dress & speak as though i'm... "a victorian dandy" ... devastating.

32: tell a funny story about something really gay you've done.

haggardly lights my cigarette... 🚬

you've already heard the story of my first gf and i taking literal weeks to kiss each other on the mouth, during which we'd meet after school every day in a secluded spot between school walls, just in front of the student council room... so i shall choose another!

when i was a young dyke, see, there was this lovely girl (soon to discover. they're not a girl. but that's unrelated) i'd met during summer courses (to get academic credits early) and quickly grew fond of. we had a bit of a thing going on here, and they eventually invited me to the "anime club" (& book club + the origami club that they started up. but that's unimportant right now) since i stayed after school anyhow in the library to finish work/etc. and they wished to spend more time with me.

when i went to the anime club, it was primarily their friend group. i was extremely nervous of being the only one who didn't know them, especially as i'd transferred late to the school; but they quickly warmed up to me, and throughout the year, we all came to realize we were gay or trans in some manner.

one person's realization was. through her crush on me, which i somehow didn't realize i was the cause of when i saw her instagram & announcement she was bisexual & her sudden uptick in calling me "honey."

the time it actually registered for me that "oh! this is not just a joke about everyone in this club being gay girls!" was when we finished the final episode of death note. after discussing it, she said that she loved my words & picked me up, twirled me around, and carried me out of the classroom "bridal style" -- my friend stole some flowers from one of the planters to put in our hair when she finally set me down in the courtyard. i was so embarrassed, but it was very fun <3

anyway. dn is gay but not for the reason people think. it's because i permanently associate it with one of the most flustering moments of my entire life, during which i accidentally put my face in her tits multiple times 👍

[tonedeafkunst]

assorted helluva boss sentiments

I knew it from the moment asmodeus appeared on screen. I felt it in my soul, I could see the heart eyes. I wonder how it ever felt to be a doubter because I was never one

2. While I do enjoy Fizzarozzie as much as the next guy I do hope the series continues to be about IMP instead of shifting focus every season? or at least concluding some type of arc for Millie and Moxxie? It feels weird that we haven't seen them in the last two episodes.

3. Speaking of weird things that don't fit. Musical numbers. 4 in one episode is way too much if they're going to be full-length musical numbers. Fizz's song should've been cut after the first verse -like the distraction one- and it should have been way less pop. Get fucking weird with the songs please I dare you. ALSO TOM CARDY. MORE TOM CARDY ALWAYS PLEASE THANK YOU

4. speaking of things that stop tempo to a halt and are way too based on the internet's love for the trope rather than the actual quality: Stolitz. not the ship in itself but the conflict it's going to endure in the next episodes. Please. for the love of god. "Oops" was without a doubt one of the best episodes in the series by virtue of the fact the characters TALK AND COMMUNICATE TO ONE ANOTHER. and as Oops shows, this doesn't mean having less conflict or interesting stuff happen! You can have Stolitz without getting this played-out fanfic Will-they-Won't-they bullshit and still make it interesting! I'd usually trust the writers cause Helluva Boss is one of the best-written series I've ever seen, flat out, but Stolas' backstory episode makes me weary. PLEASE have them communicate, Blitzo's problems aren't going to be carried away by it all because he's the protagonist and the story centers around HIM, having Stolitz be an arc of personal growth rather than the end point of said arc will make it MORE engaging

5. silly things interruptions. The Major Sin Design Debacle was obviously bad faith bullshit, and I enjoy every one of the Deadly Sins' designs, but I especially enjoy their theming. Lust isn't tied to any particular negative environment because this show, rightfully, doesn't want to depict lust as a sinful thing in the first place lmfao. Beelzebub as a party queen completely incapable of holding back is good, Sloth being depicted as hospital land is fun and I hope they expand the joke further, Wrath being a fiery and desolate land is appropriate. Greed is fun as a design and I find it very apt that a group of animators would depict the sin of avarice as being into entertainment and the merchandising of said entertainment and the people behind it. I do wonder why he's an insect? maybe there's some catholic lore behind it I don't remember but considering they (rightfully) are only kind of inspired by it as Beelzebub shows I would have preferred to see Mammon as a bit more parasite-like. Also, did I miss something. WHy is he Australian. he should definitely be British. though if you apply that logic I guess everyone should be British in hell

6. and last but not least... why oh why, if your show wants to focus on inter-character relationships (and it clearly does and it's the correct choice in every kind of storytelling) would you ever bring in class warfare and make the anticapitalist the asshole. Striker might want to kill our fave bird bottom but he's right. "ooooh but he works for Stella he's part of the system" hey the fact S2 stripped her of all her nuance doesn't excuse making Striker's cause into a joke as well. I just pray the writers KNOW what they're doing (and if Stolas' Harvest Moon Festival characterization is still canon, then they should be aware of what they're writing) and... I don't know if I'd prefer they ignore the entire theme by closing it off with a joke or at least give a satisfying ending of """compromise"""" to the entire system in hell. Considering how every romantic relationship between an imp and an overlord has been shown to either be incredibly positive or at least healing, and how the only negative relationships we're shown are -by nature of the show- character-focused and don't really touch on the systematic oppression of imps, I don't trust SpindleHorse will ever actually give space to the Imp Socialist Revoluton, which is a damn shame.

I'm going to go ahead and make the mistake of tagging this because I'd really like to find other fans to discuss with but please. for the love of god. If you read this until the end and aren't able to recognise this criticism is born out of LOVE for this show and a desire for it to become even better than it is. do us both a favour and ignore me.

Mediocre bad shows don't elicit this type of reflection and engagement and if they do for you I urge you to stop letting media make you more miserable

[jinxthejubilee]

My Thoughts on Obey Me: Season 2, Episode 1

Wow. Where do I even start with this one?Welcome back to the anime, everyone! Where nonsensical plots are abound. Let's take a look and analyze this episode!

Warning: Spoilers for this episode!

Right off the bat, I knew what kind of madness I was in for.

First off, nice callback to Episode 1 of the first season with the name boxes. It completely took me aback for a second.

I wonder how long they were stuck like that. Considering that they were standing in one place, I assume that they were in a somewhat brainless state for a while. But they recognized themselves that they were transformed, so we know that they were aware of it.

I love how done Satan looks in this shot. It just brings me so much joy.

It was a bit cruel of a punishment, I'm not gonna lie. You're body and mind are stuck in a rectangular body, and you could only communicate in a few words related to school and test work. An utter nightmare!

Leave it to Mammon to make money out of anything.

I can't tell if he was actually trying to help, or he was just trying to make easy cash. Probably both?

Honestly, the boys didn't need to do this. They could've just walked away, but they just stood there and played along.

I'm more surprised that Lucifer thought that plan was solid. Like, dude, no. What kind of idea was that?!

Apparently, the joke we English speakers missed when Belphie was saying "I mith them," was that in Japanese, he was actually saying "It hurts."

I saw that from the comments, so I might be wrong, but the person explained that "ita"i (ee-tie) and "aitai" (ai-tie) are two very different things.

"Aitai" is "I miss them."

"Itai" is "It hurts."

The more you know!

I love this shot! It's so cute! 💗

Again, they really didn't need to subject themselves to this. Look at them! They're hurting themselves because of us!

Beel looks like a sad chipmunk. Why are his cheeks puffier than the others?

Okay, so a couple of things.

First of all, when did Mammon have time to make these? He obviously had planned to sell these and used his bros as guinea pigs to see how others would react. So how did he get these made?

Second, how did Mammon know his brothers would want these? Was he just waiting for the right time to bring these out?

The name "Miss 'em," too. Did he make up that name on the fly, or did he actually think on it?

Third, Satan's plush has cat ears on it. Adorable.

Fourth, what is that price?!

I know that Grimm is just gold coins, but how does that translate to real life currency?

I looked into what 10,000 Grimm in Japanese currency is, and apparently 10,000 yen is $74. 42 in American currency.

I mean, that's better, but still! Almost $75 for a plush? As someone who makes plushies herself, that better be some pillow sized, high quality plushies, Mammon!

Fifth, did Mammon know that Lucifer wasn't gonna fall for it? There's no colorized version for him.

And finally, if I had to pick one plush, I'd probably go for the pink one. That, or the gold one.

It always astonishes me that these guys are the rulers of Hell. Let's just let that sink in for a minute.

Also, yay! The next shot is of the side characters, the first time we see the side characters together! They all look great!

Another image that I never knew I needed.

Ah! There's Lucifer and Belphie's plush! The purple and light blue ones are super cute.

So Mammon purposefully designed Satan's with cat ears. Maybe I'm reading to much into details, but if he did, that's really sweet!

Solomon, I had no idea that you such glorious eyelashes! Asmo's taught you well.

Also, don't call Luke out for this. You would do the same thing!

Although, again I ask, why are Luke and Simeon exempt from wearing the school uniform?

The almost evil laugh Mammon has in the background, he's gone mad with power!

All of the promotional material for the Miss em's made me laugh so hard. The romance movie, why?

You know, I'm not surprised at all that Mammon bought this gold mansion, I'm more surprised that he hasn't tried to get one before.

The fact that he did all of this, just to distract himself from missing us. That's just, so...Mammon! He went above and beyond for this one.

He's so extra! I love it! I love him!

Lastly, we need to talk about the end theme. It's so catchy! I wonder when the full version will come out.

I love the end theme art as well. The screen with Beel and Belphie splashing around in the water is my favorite. They just look so happy!

Anyway! That's all from me! I know that it's been a while since I've done one of these, so I thought that this would be a good way to get back into it. I hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless. With that being said, I hope you all have a wonderful day, and I'll see you later! Byeee! 💗

[kitten--thoughts]

My Inuit Heritage

CW: Slur mention, mentions of sexual assault

I knew that I mentioned before that I didn't want to talk about my personal life on here, but I thought this was worth talking about.

I believe that I'm Inuit. The Europeans in my life could categorize me as a dark-skin European, and that's fine. That's why even now I subconsciously live in the 2000's, because Europeans wanted to have tan skin because they saw it as aesthetically appealing. I don't know everyone's personal story as to why they wanted their pale skin to be darker.

Anyways, when I was younger, my father put on Ice Age. I was honestly more fixated on the humans' storyline than the silly wacky animals to entertain the stupid people, but it was always cleverly balanced and I appreciated it.

I feel like I'm more of my father's child than my mother's child. I always had a meat-focused diet: fish, meat. I became inspired to try to become a vegan by learning about diets in asian countries like Japan. Chinese food was a constant in my life as well. I also liked to be comfortable and cozy so I'm obsessed with the clothes i see some inuits wear in Google images. I like Icelandic patterns. My father also liked to wear sweaters. I had a fixation of hot chocolate because our house was always cold but my father felt most comfortable with the temperature, he always drank tea.

I don't mean to trigger anyone, but in my elementary school, there was a traditional Halloween costume parade around the block where every student would wear their costume proudly and all the parents would take pictures to remember their child with their friends representing or being whatever they'd like.

I got a light pink eskimo costume. I immediately felt comfortable and secure wearing it. The material was very soft and comfortable. I felt like everything was right and it clicked in my soul like a key. Even the boys called me cute for the costume. My entire life I wanted to be Japanese or Chinese, but remembering how I felt in that soft costume made me realize that there is a reality for me that's even better than maybe those two existences: being a proud Inuit.

I saw a article somewhere that tried to say that the word "eskimo" is considered a slur towards Inuit people. i believed it immediately because I was a bit younger than I am now. I was shocked because I heard the term "eskimo kisses" and my mother used to do them to me when I was younger. That was my favorite way of showing affection. My partner told me to not worry about it but I still internalized that belief, because I only identified as black at that time (mainly due to my appearance and the culture that surrounded me during those days) and I was disassociated from my awareness of me being a indigenous myself until my father told me.

He told me that he was Native American along with other things. When I met actual Native Americans, it was really hard to find or have any slight of connection, we both felt uncomfortable and distant, and even scared of each other.

I found myself having a gravity towards European things ever since I was a little girl. So that's probably why I lean towards the Nurture in the Nature vs. Nurture argument. I can write a whole paper on this sometime..

My art therapist was wearing a pattern that reminded me of Native American patterns. I inquired about it and she actually told me it was a Eastern European pattern. Another click. I can't really consider myself biracial because my skin tone is not exactly the palest and I represent three races. I always thought things would only resonate with you if there is something inside of you that is compatible with it, because there's tons of other cultures and aspects of it I have never and probably never will be in touch or witness. So yeah. I represent a lot of different cultures, but I'd hate for someone to make me feel insecure about it. I worked hard to feel secure and grounded about myself, and I am proud.

Maybe the bottom line is this. Black people who do not feel comfortable in the black community and find theirselves genuinely gravitating to White/European things should try identifying as Inuit. I felt immediately understood when I shared to my friends that I was a american Inuit. Everything made sense to me now. I don't want to disturb anyone who lives in the artic.

I feel like the term African-American was written to help people who came from African countries and were born there to have a identity and see it as a nationality. I was born in America and so were my two parents. None of us came from Africa, and this is my first generation family. I have been mistreated horribly ever since I even slightly considered interacting with individuals in said black community. My dad has forced me to fit in with these individuals and I almost died several times, both spiritually and physically. I was sexually assaulted several times, and other awful things I don't want to remember. I always felt safer in different communities even if my family considers my plight for comfort and safety as silly. So I'm trying to spread awareness of the inuit community.

Thank you for reading. I hope one day you too will find yourself

Written by kitten

4 21 24

[headspacedad]

One Piece: Ep.2 - spoilers

so I'm not going to play by play this, just gonna summarize each episode as I go. Under a cut of course because its going to naturally have spoilers

Second episode wasn't as much fun as the first but it was still a really great story with good set up and building. The world fleshed out a bit as well in a 'well, THAT;S very Mad Max kind of way which honestly? I appreciate. Pirates are so popular in media right now that its nice to see the 'no, no - they're horrible' and this episode managed to do that in a way that was creepy, brutal, desperate and yet totally manga so not as bad as you know it would have been in a different type of media. All the elements were there, enough to give you plenty to think about if you wanted to look at what was circling under the water but the story only needed to hint to get to its point so it didn't deep dive and I can respect that. That's what fanfiction would be for.

Anyway, pirate clown showed up earlier in the show than I expected him to given the bump in the end of the first episode and the fact Netflix was making him a selling point. I'm going to assume he shows up later? or they just didn't want to spoil and so chose an early minor boss for their spread. I'm going to vote for a later revival and showing but we'll see.

As far as the pirate clown went he was a lot scarier than I expected him to be but that was all on the actor and the delivery. Scary pirate clown is pretty one note and flat but the actor made his facial expressions and body language much more threatening than it should have been and I appreciate that. Plus he tries to play psychological games and that was a nice touch. He really did feel like a Bad Guy, especially the way he used the villagers and the way those actors responded to him. Really all the acting on here so far is pretty top notch even from extras and its making this show.

I'd be more concerned about Luffy's connection to his hat but I seem to remember seeing manga covers for years where he still had it so unless he loses it in the final episode of this first season I think we're pretty safe. It's like a comfort stuffed animal and a promise ring all rolled into one for him and I also worry about people that let a vulnerable part of their heart be something so easy to have taken away. It's hard enough to invest that into a pet, much less an inanimate object no one else is going to value enough.

Nami is being set up for double trouble but that was pretty clear from the start and I'm looking forward to how it plays out. She's very sneaky and self-saving but not enough to make her stupid or making her give away what's working for her just to have the story make a point or be dramatic. Which also brings up how utterly bizarre some of the 'tech' elements of the show are to me. I'm totally digging it! It just adds another layer to the 'not the world you know' world building but so much of it seems sensible and then they whip out the snail phone and it throws me back to the 'ooooooh, riiiiight. NOT fantasy Earth'.

The cravat to the 'superpower' from the devil fruit is interesting. I like how its called the 'devil' because it takes away the sea's blessing, which is enough to make everyone consider it evil. As they should.

The flashbacks were well done and I really enjoyed Shanks crew. I think we can all see the 'ultimate end boss' he's going to be coming from nautical miles away but that's not a bad thing. There's enough emotional investment going on that its going to be deliciously terrible when it comes.

Also I'm enjoying the High muckety muck Marine. The pirate at the beginning 'cursing' the world with pirates looking for his treasure was genius and I love that this guy was there to see it/have it happen on his watch and is now in charge of the entire kit. He makes a much more threatening villain than Tiger-pants because he's so obviously clever. He's also got a great voice to listen to.

Zoro's quote about Luffy believing in himself was a very cool line. I'm really enjoying the dialogue. It's a little lyrical and it doesn't rely on trite banter. The banter that does show up doesn't feel forced.

All in all, the second episode gets a thumbs up from me. Well told contained story that also advanced the overall plot and showed up more of the world as well as set up plenty for later story.

[insectoidvoid]

Attempting to put words to my otherheartedness

I've been thinking about the post regarding how difficult it is to explain what being otherhearted is like. And well, I guess I like a bit of a challenge. I'd also like to attempt to convey my experiences for the sake of anyone trying to figure out if they're otherhearted or not. While otherheartedness is broad and not everyone will experience it like me, I always think it's helpful to have people to compare notes with when questioning.

I'm going to focus on my spider hearttype for this post, for simplicity's sake. I might make another post about my fictional hearttype at a later date. I might not. Idk.

This is kinda long, so I'm putting it under a cut.

There are two main sentiments that I hold that led me to the label spiderhearted:

I feel a familial attachment to spiders

I feel I am a spider-themed person

On point 1:

I feel a maternal instinct towards spiders - something I notably thought I lacked entirely before I realized that the term could apply to other things besides human children. My brain registers basically every spider as my wonderful little child. I'm proud of them for being their spidery selves. I love them so much. Just looking at them brings me joy and comfort.

There is some nuance to this attachment because I feel it while also still seeing and appreciating them as a part of nature. So, it's not upsetting to me to see a tarantula hawk doing its thing or a bird hunting a spider or whatever. That's part of the spider's role in the ecosystem. It's important.

However, it is extremely upsetting to me when spiders are killed for no good reason by people. I don't even want to ever hear about it. It's also upsetting to hear people insulting them in general. I've blocked people just for calling them gross (and I'm not sorry about it).

On point 2:

This is definitely related to one of my kintypes (Widowmaker from Overwatch), but it plays into my otherheartedness in a big way as well.

You know how a lot of fictional characters have an animal as a motif, while still being human/humanoid themselves? I see myself as someone with a spider motif.

And I certainly enjoy presenting myself in this way. I like wearing spider-themed accessories and clothes. (Contrast this to the gear I have for my kintypes, where my aim is to literally look like that species or character instead. I don't have a shirt with a satyr on it, I have well-made costume horns and goat legs.)

And this applies online, too. My main handle is SpiderQueenPC. On sites I don't use as much, it's usually spidergoth.

I just really want people to associate me with spiders, basically. I'm spider-adjacent. That's part of my self-perception right alongside literally being certain species and characters.

On the surprise point 3 that I didn't list above because I don't consider it as crucial as the first 2:

I have some spidery traits. And by this, I mean a couple of things. The first one is pretty direct: I want to eat bugs. Not in the "I hate this animal so I want to eat it" internet comment way. (As I'm sure you can guess, I love bugs in general.) I just... don't see them as necessarily not-food the way most people do. Eating fried mealworms or whatever seems just as normal to me as eating a hamburger.

(Please don't derail this post by starting discourse about meat consumption in the notes. Please.)

The second one is metaphorical. I'm an illustrator. A professional one, now, but I've always drawn as a hobby. Throughout my entire life I have pursued this form of creativity out of what I can only describe as sheer instinct. I can point to inspirations for why I draw the way I do, but drawing in general? That's just innate to me, like eating and breathing. And I see spiders as a good metaphor for this. They, too, create out of instinct.

Conclusion:

Otherheartedness is multi-faceted and a little odd and that's what's lovely about it. I'm not sure how much this admittedly somewhat rambly post really conveys the experience, but at least I can say I tried. I encourage other folks in the otherhearted community to give it a go too, if you want to. Thanks for reading.