An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Who says I’m worried?” Olruggio lied. “Maybe like you, I just wanna go on an adventure of my own.”
“Well, fair warning, following me won’t lead you to Wonderland.” Qifrey tutted.
The sky was low and grey. The whole city was cold and silent, like a photograph. It’s here that a grizzled detective crosses paths with a wealthy runaway heir.
Listen, after seeing this gorgeous art, rereading Veil & this post by Danganphobia, author of the rum diaries (which I highly rec for all modern AU orufrey fans) days later, I had to write this bcz if ALL THAT isn't a message from the universe, idk what is man.
Watching Ultraman Teo, and this shot hits so hard because it happens in a cafeteria right after a guy flat out tells him he shouldn't have come to this college if he's here to make friends, and then a girl who's set up to become his first friend right then & there is instead immediately turning her attention towards another longer known friend.
Then the frame purposely narrows down to him only. He's not human, this isn't his home. He's that alone.
Barely 7 minutes in & already, the inherent isolation he feels is established in such a painfully relatable way in spite of the setting and prior humorous tone.
Fanfic for @maslosstuff's RC9GN Bible AU. Her artwork & RC9GN AUs are absolutely phenomenal. Hope you enjoy <33
"Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life. So you might say we are encouraged to love."
-Anakin Skywalker
Randy is a hero, he’s the Ninja. And what’s a hero without compassion? So of course he loves everyone. Tender, deep and all encompassing, just like a bruise.
A/N: Bandy’s POV, which has many CW/TWS such as references to suicide, depression, low self-esteem, animal abuse imagery, etc. TLDR, Bandy is NOT okay.
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I saw a dog on patrol today.
It was an ugly, pitiful mutt. Full of as many fleas as snarling teeth, drool dripping off its maws and anger in its eyes. It was so angry. I wear no cross around my neck, but if the devil ever chose to walk the earth as a dog, I think that’s what it’d look like. Or maybe god. I dunno, if my kids were half as bad as the ones I knew, I’d be pretty pissed at them too, but I’m getting off topic.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen that dog. Why, I reckon it damn near bit my ass once when I accidentally got too close. Not that I would’ve made a fine meal, but maybe it likes them crunchy.
I don’t know its name. Hell, I didn’t even know if it had an owner but looking back, that was a stupid assumption to make. Someone had to slap a collar on it, someone had to hammer down the chain. That someone didn’t feed the dog. Food in your belly doesn’t let someone count the ribs you have. But did it matter? Hurt, is just as much a claim to possession, as care. A slap on the face leaves just as incriminating a mark as a kiss on the lips.
I would know.
My sister owns me after all. Sweet, spunky, Abby. I love her and she loves me, we care for each other, we’re all each other has. Sure, there’s dad but the couch he collapses on knows his embrace more than us, I feel. This doesn’t mean I hate him! No, I care for him too, but my sister’s fingerprints are more present than his.
Howard owns me too. Brave, feisty, Howard. The world didn’t put together his body out of bricks, but they made up for it with grit. Teachers call him lazy, but I don’t believe that. Why else would he do the rotten work of taking care of me? He could find himself a better friend. One that isn’t a sweaty, scarred, acne-ridden flesh blanket draped over a bag of bad bones, but he doesn’t.
And Heidi, gods, I could go on about her. She’s got a good heart, and I love it, how can I not? But I worry. Because sooner or later, that big, bleeding heart might run dry and the worst part is, it’ll have wasted itself on stone and shit that couldn’t give a damn. So of course, I care about her. If she dies, who’ll stop the next kid from deciding one more shitty day should finally be their last?
Ah, but the hands that feed me aren’t all there is to a dog. Can’t forget the collar after all!
The school.
The devil couldn’t turn the earth to hell, so he had to settle for this institution of misery and torment disguised as education. And wow, what a bonafide genius he was, for this trick of his to last long before I popped outta a womb and long after I meet him in person.
If this school were like the anatomy dummy in the labs, I’d be a certified surgeon. With my eyes closed, I can map out the nervous system of hallways where bodies are shoved against locker doors, like signals bursting across synapses. Paperwork, red tape and money under the table to meticulously weave a suffocating epidermis. The skeleton of flagpoles adorned with flags and tight-whities. The walls that see so much, the concave holes in a skull for the eyeballs. I imagine the floors tingling the same way the arm does whenever the elbow is struck every time my body lands on it. A hollow, filthy body on hollow, dirty tiles.
Then there’s the heart and blood, for how else would such a huge beast live if not for those? The heart could be found in Coach Green. Body built like an ox with the mind of a gun, all military sternness, efficiency and terror, so much terror anyone can taste it at the back of their throats. The heart that pumps like a drum, rattling my bones, tearing apart my eardrums and littering me with bullet holes. It’s always the small targets that are the most challenging and Coach Green was a man. Real men don’t shy away from a challenge.
And then there’s the blood cells, dressed in green that reminded me of the helium warning label I once glimpsed. Green and mean, so very mean. Green like money, so very greedy. Every time they bruise my skin, I imagine peeling it off and offering it to them to take home and do with it as they please. Spit on it, stick it on a dummy or punching bag, nail it to your dartboard. Inflict whatever torture you wish, your sick pleasure without me having to pay the price in pain at last.
Who am I kidding, that wouldn’t be enough. I could strip myself down to bone, and they’ll call me greedy for wanting to keep those.
But still, if I close my eyes, I can pretend this school is a baby, like the toy Abby once got but never truly cherished. And babies must be cared for, always. They must be loved, so they can live.
So, I love. I care. And I’m owned.
I’m owned by Bucky. Boyish, meek Bucky, the closest I have to a friend outside of Howard. I’ll always have his back, Ninja or not. But we’re both sheep and sheep don’t bite when someone in the flock gets dragged away. Still, he’s so soft while everyone else is sharp and painful, I can’t hate him for not being painful.
I’m owned by Julian and Stevens, the jokers. Clucking like headless chickens amongst the cackling hyenas. Jesters in a mad court, those two, juggling and dancing away from the swords of Damocles over their heads. I would find their stupidity amusing if they didn’t reek of cannabis and skunk. Then again, I suppose those are the safer alternatives to lobotomy.
I’m owned by Bash. Big, brutish Bash with big dreams, a big fish in a small pond convinced he can conquer the ocean. He’s a little stupid, but most boys are. Just look at me. I am the bone and he is the dog. When he sinks his teeth in, I’ll grit my own until I can find a safe place to snap myself into sharp, jagged pieces to make his gums bleed.
I’m even owned by Coach Green. Authoritative, cruel Green, who makes cruelty seem like human instinct. He is the human hand. Bigger, meatier, stronger, with all 5 fingers that can take anything he wants from the world. Anything but the Ninja. The Ninja is my bone, one that I slip between my ribs instead of my teeth. One he’ll have to pry out of my corpse. I wonder how many bones he has. With a body as big as that and a heart short, he must have quite a storage.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
At the end of the day, I am a hero. I am the Ninja. And what’s a hero without compassion? So of course, I’ll love everyone. And that love will always be tender, deep and all encompassing, just like a bruise.
Decide for yourself whether Chase is swinging for a punch or just fucking around
I was lounging on my bed, scrolling through my Pinterest feed as usual, and these pictures just looked so funny together that I woke up from my laughter binge and immediately ran to draw them.
Chase, you should have written in Japanese, maybe it would have worked then
I'm still trying to find a way to color backgrounds. This process is very difficult for me and I just try different options, but so far nothing that suits me
The ninja suit is made from the feathers of a huge bird, and Chase turns into a huge lizard because he drank sour soup from a talking bean.
Technically, they can be described as: two elderly Asians over +90 years old, fighting and flirting with each other in their fursuits.
And let's imagine a scenario where the First still won against Chase, imprisoned his soul in Nomicon (or in a psychiatric ward), but in theory the body will remain, will it be possible to rip off the skin and make magical equipment using the same method as the Tengu suit? I'm sure somewhere in the book there are instructions on how to sew.
I think that sewing something from leather is easier than doing it from feathers. And is it possible to make more suits from other powerful creatures. If so, I would start catching the most evil creatures, so that I wouldn’t feel sorry for them, and use them as weapons against other equally evil creatures.
Although (apart from unknown, most likely life-threatening, conditions) there are still theoretical problems. Firstly, Chase is much smaller than Tengu, in which case it would only be enough for bracers or gloves (although it would be cool if it was enough for full-fledged armor. With a duet of Samurai and Ninja, crime would be significantly reduced). And the owner, especially a child, will not be able to curb so much dark magic at once, so it’s better not to combine them
And if Chase “dies” like that in the form of a reptile, will he turn into a human or will he remain like that? It’s just that if he becomes a human, then removing his skin will look like a cut scene from Hannibal.
The first one probably knows how to get rid of a person's body so that there are no traces left (ninjas are hired killers after all) despite the new circumstance in the form of a sorcerer, he was still trained in this matter, and one of the most effective ways is to hide the body in parts. Although in those days it was enough to take the body to the mountains far away, where there are plenty of animals and they will gnaw the body for a sweet soul, but there are situations where taking the body out is far from an option.
or at least watched how his brothers / parents / clanmates did it
Image Omi and Randy just chilling together while Chase and First ninja having that classic banter going on
Omi stayed because he wanted to see how it would end
Randy stayed so that if something happened, Omi wouldn't see or hear something that neither he nor anyone else could explain, so as not to traumatize him again
And also when I googled poses, Pinterest gave me this
gracieabrams
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
turnnoffyourmind
amandla
