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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

The MC is Taller than Beel

Lucifer

NO.

No, no, absolutely not! He refuses to be shorter than the human!! The thought of having to physically look up at them is just… just sickening…

He would start wearing inserts or platform shoes to give him a few extra inches. Anything for a small edge.

He'd even magically alter his height if he could but he knows that Barbs and Dia would tease him mercilessly for it…

Any time he and the MC are standing close to each other, everyone can tell that he's straining to stand as straight as possible. Those who value their lives don't mention it.

If the MC is insecure about their height… well they won't get much sympathy from him. He was never insecure about his height until they showed up… so too bad. Suffer.

Mammon

FUCK they're huge! Like. How do humans get so tall??

When they first met it was really, really hard for him to be even slightly intimidating while having to crane his neck up just to look them in the eye… They're even taller than Lucifer, what the hell?!

Over time he kind of got used to it, I mean, their size makes them great to hide behind when a pissed off bookie comes running by! They're like a walking tree!!

He's also jumped into their arms like a frightened cat on numerous occasions… But it's not that embarrassing or nothing! (As long as his brothers don't see…)

If the MC is insecure about their height, he'll tell'em that they're being crazy and being tall is great! Though uh, whether any of his reasons above actually reassure them is pretty much anyone's guess...

Leviathan

Look. He knows that he has the posture of an arthritic bridge troll but, contrary to first impressions, he's not a short guy. Far from it.

And yet, they still make him feel tiny…

Seriously, who picked out such a tall human?? He's already pretty underwhelming to start with, having to actually look down at him is only going to make it worse….

At least their height isn't all bad. He likes to take them out to crowded conventions or concerts with him because he can hang onto their shirt while they part the crowd! Plus, he never has to worry about losing track of them!

If he takes both Beel and MC somewhere it kind of feels like having bodyguards. He has managed to intimidate himself to the front of a few lines before (though he had to bribe them both each time to do it).

If they're insecure about their height, he'll list off a few of the eight billion or so insecurities that he has to remind them that being tall ain't that bad. Hell, use it right and it's a strength! You got this, MC.

Satan

He never thought he'd actually see a human actually dwarf Lucifer before… Oh, it's wonderful!

Admittedly, he gets far more enjoyment out of watching his brother nurse his injured pride than the MC's height itself. Though they do come in handy for those particularly high bookshelves...

If anything, he's more concerned about their health and general coordination. Even Beel has to duck through some doorways in the House so he can't imagine getting around has been very good for their back...

He's actually one of the first people to try and get a few accommodations for them and their size. Beel can take a lot since he's built like a truck but a human is just a bag of porcelain in comparison… They need the help.

A bigger bed? Done. Altered uniform? Ordered. A desk they can actually sit in? Shipped and paid for by Student Council funds. For undermining his brother, it's all the least he can do, really.

If they're insecure about their height, he'll remind them that it's just a genetic thing and it doesn't impact who they are. Plus, they're making the demon of Pride himself stew in jealousy so they really ought to be doing something right, no?

Asmodeus

So you're telling him that the MC is super tall…? Like, really tall? "I-can-dominate-you" kind of tall?? Where can he sign him up?!

Look, Asmo is the shortest of the family so it's not like he's not used to looking up at people. He honestly doesn't even mind his height compared to his brothers, he thinks it makes him look cuter. ��

But a tall MC?? That. Sounds. Amazing!! Long legs for days…!!! And just the difference between them being so big while he's so small?? Please, he couldn’t be any more behind this. He is ready!!!

Thankfully, it's not all about how hot he finds them though. Asmo will also take the Satan route of trying to make life a little easier for them when he can, particularly with clothes.

Have no fear, tall MC! Asmo knows all the best shops and tailors to make sure that you'll never have pants or a dress that is too short ever again! Everything you wear is going to fit and it will look marvelous.

If they're insecure about their height, he won't even hear it! They're stunning and he won't let them or anyone else say anything to the contrary! You turn every head in a room, be proud of that, MC!!

Beelzebub

Oh. Well this is different.

It's not like he's never met someone taller than him before. He knows a couple guys on the fangol team about that tall, it's just that no one really expected out of a human…

Beel being Beel, he's not really insecure about it. If anything, he's kind of grateful that he finally has someone who gets all the "tall person problems." Getting smacked by ceiling fans is the worst...

There's other things he likes too. It feels really nice to go places with them because he doesn't feel so out of place.

It also puts his mind at ease a little. A human is still pretty frail, but the MC's size makes him feel like they're harder to target anyway. Imagining MC decking some poor fool with a knee to the face gives his soul some peace at night...

Best of all, though, are the hugs. Finally, he has someone else he can hug comfortably without having to bend in half! It's so nice. 😊

If they're insecure about their height well... He's also tall so he gets it. He'll try to remind them that it's not all that bad and if nothing else, he's there to help them out if they need it. Can't fit into that car? Don't worry, he's got you - he's ripping out the seat as we speak!

Belphegor

Honestly? He couldn't be happier.

He'd say one of Beel's best qualities is that there's literally so much of him. He's a big, lovable teddy bear of a demon and he adores him for it. So an equally big MC? Call Belphie a supporter!

Tall MC is going to get no end of attention from Belphie and yes, the cuddling is mandatory. He loves to be small spoon so just deal with it.

He is going to ask for a piggyback ride at least once. Though, is it because he knows they can carry him or because he's a lazy motherfucker...? Your call.

He also enjoys watching Lucifer attempt to cover up his height difference through any petty means possible.

He and Satan snuck platform insoles into the MC's shoes for a few days just to watch their brother lose his mind… The look of despair Lucifer made when he walked into breakfast and thought that the MC had grown yet another inch was priceless.

If they're insecure about their height, he'll tell them big deal because it's not like they can change it... Though he will make a point of how much he likes their height so take what you can get, I guess.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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keichanz · 3 years

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Mistake

kay so i really don't care if some of this doesn't make sense because this is the first thing i've written in a while that i don't absolutely hate. well this version at least. ending up scraping the first draft because it just seemed wrong and went in a different direction. im glad i did cause im happy with it.

anyway i realize that this may not get much feedback because i took a different approach to it, aka the entire pov is from an OC but i can't bring myself to care too much because i wrote this purely for myself. got inspired, started writing, and i actually liked the content i was writing. end of.

btw the oc doesn't refer to inuyasha as a half-demon because he's unaware he is one and i was too lazy to delve into those waters anyhow.

also for the sake of this oneshot pls dont look too closely at the ranks of diplomat and ambassador. i was too lazy to put much research regarding positions of power so just...go with it.

inspired by @stillunderyourbed's art that can be found here.

It was…quaint. Smaller than what he'd expected. The housing structures looked subpar, there didn't appear to be any wooden walkways, and he could detect the distinct odor or fish in the air with hints of manure. There even seemed to be a perpetual dust cloud hovering at about waist high, thickening from the numerous carts, wagons, horses, and villagers kicking up dirt as they went about their daily lives. Already he felt like there was a layer of dust caked on the inside of his lungs and he wasn't even inside yet.

All in all, it was your typical countryside village, home to simple folk that made a living off of fishing, farming, and trade. The diplomat sneered in disgust. For being the rumored home of the creature strong enough to destroy the despicable Naraku, the village was…less than impressive. And to say that he was underwhelmed would be a vast understatement.

Shifting atop his mount, a chestnut gelding that had been his faithful companion for the last four years, Takeji frowned as he surveyed the sight before him. It was early afternoon, so men were out working in the fields, women were chatting amongst themselves as they laundered clothing at the river, and children were running about, playing and laughing while dogs barked at their heels. He could see the great red torii gate and the stone staircase that led to the shrine and he could hardly refrain from rolling his eyes.

The village was obviously poor, possibly even teetering on the edge of poverty, and instead of feeding themselves for a good long while, they decided to construct that monstrosity. He would never understand the minds of simple common folk. Daft. All of them.

Barely keeping himself from scowling, Takeji reluctantly climbed off his mount and forced himself to move forward into the pathetic excuse for a village. Already he knew he would have to burn his expensive attire; there would be no getting the dust and stench out of it after his ghastly visit. A visit he had not wanted to make, but being a highly revered and prestigious diplomat, it was his duty to travel to far off lands in hopes of establishing a profitable relationship that would ultimately benefit his homeland.

Although, looking around and fighting against the urge to retch at both the nauseating stench and the mere sight of all the unwashed villagers milling around, Takeji wondered not for the first time why he even bothered to accept this task. True, it was said the slayer of Naraku did hail from here, but surely having his homeland associated with this hovel would garner nothing but loss. So why had he agreed to come?

Oh, yes, he mused, grimacing as he stepped over a large manure pile right in the middle of the road. Because apparently, being all chummy with the nation's hero will allow us to have him at our beck and call, because who doesn't want a powerful demon capable of slaying the most evil demon in all of existence as an intimidating presence during negotiations, and let's not forget he alone would be equal to about one hundred soldiers in battle.

Rolling his eyes, Takeji tied his mount to a hitching post, withdrew his satchel with all the necessary paperwork, and set about finding this Inuyasha fellow. He'd been told the demon wore scarlet robes, carried a sword at his hip, and had white hair so no doubt he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the droll browns and grays of the common folk, which suited him just fine. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave because there was no way he was staying even a second more in this village than he had to. Even if the next inn was hours away, he'd make the journey; the inn here was probably as unclean and riddled with bed bugs or something. Ugh. How vile.

Shrugging the satchel over his shoulder, Takeji bit back a groan, sighed, and hadn't even made it a single step before the sound of screaming froze him in his tracks. He gasped and immediately started looking for the danger, body tense, preparing to hop back onto his steed lightning fast and make a hasty getaway.

But as he looked around with wide eyes and a frantically beating heart, Takeji couldn't help but notice that he was the only one that appeared to have heard the sound of terror. The villagers were just continuing to go about their day, calm as you please, either severely deaf or completely uncaring. Takeji was beginning to wonder if he was perhaps hearing things when it happened again, a high-pitched sound that he realized with dread belonged to a child.

Takeji gaped. A child was in danger and nobody cared?! What kind of village was this?! Another shriek pierced the air, and Takeji made a decision. Very well; if these imbeciles weren't going to do anything about it, then he himself would see to the danger. While by no means a swordsman or warrior, he did have some weapons training he could fall back on for this precise reason. Traveling alone was dangerous, and you never knew what you would encounter.

Resolved, the diplomat set his jaw, unsheathed the dagger at his waist, and darted toward the direction the screams were coming from. He meandered between houses, hoped over lazing dogs, dodged startled villagers in his path, and he came into a small clearing by the forest's edge. The sight that greeted him was…not what he expected.

Coming up short, Takeji watched with a befuddled frown as one child chased around two other, slightly older looking children. One might think they were playing a game of sorts, and the diplomat started to believe that was indeed the case…until the one doing the chasing, clad in red, suddenly jumped high into the air, over the heads of the other two children, and landed before them with hands raised.

Hands, Takeji noticed with growing dread and disgust, tipped with claws on each finger and he quickly realized what exactly was happening. That wicked little demon brat, that creature was toying with those helpless children! It was keeping them trapped, preventing them from running away by leaping over their heads and blocking their route of escape! They screamed, the demon child laughed, and so potent was his fury, so enraged was he for the fact that the villagers apparently did not care about what was happening right beneath their noses, Takeji failed to notice the wide smiles on all three of the young one's faces. The blood pounding in his ears prevented him from hearing the gleeful giggles as the two human kids scrambled away from the one clad in red, and without another thought, Takeji moved.

"Run, children!" Takeji ordered as he hurled himself into the clearing, dagger raised as he charged toward the demon brat with a baleful glare. "I will take care of his filthy animal!"

All three children froze in place, eyes wide as Takeji inserted himself between the two human children - twin girls, he idly noted - and the demon spawn that dared raised its claws toward them. The brat stared up at him with big brown eyes and it - she - actually looked confused. Takeji scowled. He would not fall for such a ploy.

"I will not allow you to harm them," he spat and pointed his dagger at her. The child blinked at him and then looked behind him at the two girls who still had not taken the chance to flee. In shock, perhaps? Stunned? No matter; they were safe, so long as he stood between them and the threat.

The demon child made a face and started to walk around him, completely disregarding the weapon trained on her, but Takeji shifted and stopped her once more. He heard the two behind him whispering as the spawn looked up at him once again, this time frowning at him with narrowed eyes. And was that a growl he heard? He snorted. Was she actually trying to appear threatening? Pathetic.

Scowling, Takeji lifted a foot, placed it on her stomach, and shoved. The demon gasped as she stumbled back and then landed on her behind with a small grunt. He heard a gasp from behind him, urgent whispering, and then hurried scrambling. A glance over his shoulder told him they'd finally gotten wise and ran away. He nodded. Good. Now he could deal with this vermin without innocent eyes to bear witness.

But as he stared down at the pathetic sight before him, Takeji wondered maybe if such measures would even be necessary. The beast was still lying where she had fallen and was staring up at him with wide eyes brimming with…wait. What? Were those tears? Oh, you have got to be joking.

Rolling his eyes, the diplomat scoffed at the pathetic play for mercy and careless waved his dagger at her. The child actually flinched and followed the blade with her gaze, wariness clear in her eyes. Well. It appeared her self-preservation instincts have finally kicked in.

"Cease your theatrics," Takeji drawled, unimpressed. "They do not fool me. Now lucky for you, demon spawn, the pathetic sight you project has made me decide to spare your life. Your tainted blood is not worthy enough to soil my blade, so I will say this only one and you would do well to heed this warning, beast."

Hardening his stare and curling his lip into a sneer, Takeji spat, "Leave this place at once and do not return. There is no place for the likes of you, an abomination that preys on helpless children. Now get out of my sight, afore I kill you on principle. Your vile presence disgusts me."

The child grunted and Takeji watched, stone faced, as she got to her feet. Then to his surprise the little demon balled her hands into fists at her sides and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the tears he could clearly see brimming her eyes. He cocked a brow, unmoved. She sniffled once, twice, and then to his utter surprise and bafflement, her face suddenly crumbled, her lower lip trembled, and she promptly burst into loud tears before spinning on her heel and running away.

"P-Papaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Takeji frowned. Papa? Were the brat's kin nearby, then? Body tense and weapon raised, he waited, prepared to either fight or flee - because he wasn't a fool and knew when he was in over his head - but when no demons came bursting out of the tree line, Takeji slowly relaxed.

Bewildered and more than a little annoyed at the whole debacle - what a waste of time! - the diplomat scoffed in derision as he turned to watch the little demon brat scurry away. And then right at that exact moment, a figure donned in red dropped to the ground seemingly out of nowhere and Takeji felt a wave of relief sweep through him. Finally! This had to be his demon quarry.

Nodding, Takeji stepped forward and opened his mouth to call out a greeting—

And then froze in his tracks as the greeting abruptly died on his tongue. Because the little demon girl, the one he'd just pointed his weapon at and shoved to the ground, ran straight to the figure robed in red and Takeji could do naught but watch with a growing sense of horrified dread as the older demon knelt down to take the child into his arms.

All color promptly drained from his face and Takeji suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He glanced behind the pair and he was somehow not at all surprised to find the twin girls from earlier glaring at them and holding onto the skirts of their mother with a monk garbed in violet robes beside her. They too were staring at him in a not so friendly manner, but upon returning his gaze to the two demons, Takeji numbly thought that if looks could kill, he would surely be dead by now.

Because the demon robed in red - which was now unmistakably the child's father and none other than Inuyasha, the demon he'd come here for - was glaring absolute murder at him and it was obvious that he was. Not. Pleased.

Takeji swallowed and unconsciously backed up a step. With one small hand fisting her father's robes, the child had the other pointing an accusatory finger at him as she no doubt recited to him their earlier…ah, exchange. Inuyasha said nothing in response, but he didn't need to. The deep, nearly subsonic growl that erupted from his mouth, complete with fully bared fangs in a truly fearsome snarl, told him very clearly of his thoughts on his daughter's mistreatment by him.

Which, if Takeji had to guess, were not very Takeji-friendly. At all.

Somehow managing to fight against the urge to flee, Takeji swallowed hard as Inuyasha pushed to his feet and stalked toward him with that same murderous look on his face. Something told him, perhaps some deeply rooted self-preservation instinct, that if he even tried to run right then, it would not end well for him. So he remained where he was and tried valiantly to control the trembling in his body as he slowly, very slowly, tucked his dagger back from whence it came.

Inuyasha stopped in front of him and Takeji cleared his throat before attempting a placating smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. "Ah…I assume you are…In—"

One second Takeji was staring into the scowling features of one pissed off dog demon. The next there was a bright flash of light and then he was staring at the business end of a very large and very sharp sword. With the tip just a hair's breadth away from his nose, Takeji gasped sharply and stumbled back a step out of instinct.

Sweet merciful heavens! How—?

"Usually I'd ask who the fuck you are," the demon growled, his eyes twin slits of baleful gold. "But honestly, I can't really bring myself to care enough to know the name of the asshole who threatened my daughter when she was doing nothing but playing with her friends."

Takeji blanched for the second time and he could actually feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He fucked up. Oh dear god he'd fucked up so bad—

"There's—there's been a misunderstanding," Takeji tried in a voice higher than usual, raising his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture as he eyed the very sharp point of that blade. "I—I admit I've made a grave mistake—"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me why I shouldn't gut you where you stand," Inuyasha hissed, lips feeling back off his fangs in another fierce snarl. With his ears pinned back and those golden eyes glaring absolute death at him, the demon made quite the menacing picture. Takeji had the brief, if a bit ludicrous thought, that perhaps the demon Naraku perished from the sheer animosity that was coming off of the silver-haired demon in waves.

Swallowing once, twice, Takeji realized that he only had his quick wit to get him out of his certain predicament. So bracing himself, he opened his mouth—

"He's from the continent, Inuyasha. You can't hurt him."

Startled hazel eyes swung toward the source of the voice but amber eyes stayed locked on their target, the only acknowledgment of the voice a flick of an ear.

The owner of the voice the human diplomat could only presume was the child's mother, as the child in question was standing behind her legs and was actually smirking at him. He frowned.

"You're from Shenshi," the woman remarked and Takeji swung his gaze back to her. "Right?"

Though her expression wasn't openly friendly, it wasn't exactly unfriendly either, however the human diplomat still felt he needed to tread carefully. Because while her face didn't betray anything, her stare was hard and her mouth had tightened into a thin, flat line. She had one hand on her daughter's head while the other clutched a longbow, and belatedly he realized she had a quiver of arrows slung across her back. He barely held in a flinch as he realized this was one of the demon's companions that had assisted in slaying Naraku, possibly the young woman in which Inuyasha held a more meaningful relationship.

A much more meaningful relationship, if the child currently glaring daggers at him was anything to go by since she was more or less living proof of it.

Wonderful. So he'd gone and threatened the only child of two of the most powerful beings in Japan. Clearly he'd stepped over the wrong grave and pissed somebody off.

Clearing his throat and aiming a strained smile toward the woman who was still awaiting his reply, Takeji nodded once. "Ah, y-yes, my lady. I'm—"

"The diplomat Ambassador Sharaku sent to convince Inuyasha to join his ranks so he'd have the support and protection of 'The Great Slayer of Naraku.'" The woman raised a delicate brow at him. "How am I doing so far?"

Takeji had the good grace to look a mite sheepish. "Ah…well—"

"You can't kill him, Inuyasha," she repeated and Takeji thought she sounded disappointed. "If he goes missing, the ambassador will send his troops to find out what happened or if he returns injured, it could be taken as an insult and you can imagine what would happen after that. You would risk mine or Moroha's life like that, and you know it."

Inuyasha growled but said nothing to refute her words, so Takeji assumed he agreed.

"He threatened her, Kagome," the demon spat, inching the blade closer to his throat and Takeji flinched. "Called her a fucking animal, shoved her down, and waved a goddamn dagger in her face! You can't honestly expect me to let that—"

"Papa," the child - Moroha - suddenly said, successfully stalling her father's angry tirade. A quick glance revealed the girl, still sticking close to her mother, was staring at the older demon with big brown eyes, bright with the threat of tears as she worried her bottom lip. And evidently the sight was enough to calm the raging storm of Inuyasha's fury because he grimaced, released a low growl, and then Takeji watched in stunned amazement as the massive sword suddenly transformed into a rusty katana before it was sheathed at his hip.

With a weapon no longer at his throat, Takeji could breathe a little easier and he released a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. But then he sucked it right back in when Inuyasha suddenly stepped in close and got in his face, a low, threatening growl leaking past rightly clenched teeth bared in another snarl. Golden eyes bore into his own, filled with a lethal warning that had the human male's back straightening and his blood to run cold in his veins.

"You listen carefully, asshole," Inuyasha hissed, glaring so heatedly it was a wonder Takeji didn't burst into flame. "Don't you dare think that my wife's words have any sort of sway over my decision to spare your pathetic life. I'm not scared of your weakling ambassador and I sure as hell ain't scared of his little human army. No, the only reason that I let you live is because I don't want my daughter, the one you foolishly threatened when she had done nothing wrong, to see me sully my hands with your disgusting blood when I reduce you to nothing more than a bloody smear on the ground."

Takeji paled and swallowed thickly. That particular image was…not pleasant.

Inuyasha watched the color drain from his face. Satisfied, he sneered before saying in a growl filled with sinister promise, "Now get the fuck outta my village and if you ever touch my daughter again, I'll gut you so fast you won't even have time to fucking scream."

Then with that, Inuyasha leveled him with one last dark scowl before spinning on his heel and stalking away, a clear dismissal. Neither mother nor daughter even spared the frozen human male a glance as Inuyasha paused to pick his daughter up into his arms before striding away, his wife close to one side and his friends on the other.

From over his shoulder, Takeji could only watch in a mixture of shock and befuddlement as the little demon girl named Moroha smirked and then stuck her tongue out at him, safe and sound in her father's arms.

Left standing in a state of numb bewilderment, Takeji blinked, looked down at himself, and had the passing thought that it was a very good thing he'd decided to wear brown trousers that day.

#mistake #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #inukag #moroha #oneshot #keizfanfiction #papayasha to the rescuuuuue #i deliberately did not tag anybody in this and no i will not say why #and yes i did use sharaku because it sounds like naraku #listen dont fuck with his wife or kid #you will die #if you dont understand that last sentence #tough shit im not explaining it lmao

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall

As bizarre as they seem, I really like the video inserts that Darby does from time to time. So I used one of them as kind of an inspiration for this.

Pairing: Darby Allin x OFC (reader)

Word count: 2,968

Content advisory: Nothing. Maybe not for people with a fear of heights.

Looking down at the rippling green waters from the edge of the railway bridge, you’re consumed with one thought: you do not want to jump.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you gasp, nearly choking on your words.

“I’ve done it a dozen times. You’ll be fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt as long as you make sure you don’t belly flop.”

Darby rubs the base of your back and smiles with a sort of kindness you’ve never seen from him. He leans in and gently bumps his body against yours, taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around you.

“I’d never get you to do anything if I thought you might get hurt. And you said you wanted to try it.”

Yes, you think, it’s true. Of all the crazy stunts you’d seen him do, the one that had fascinated you the most was being dropped off this bridge in a bag. He’d outright refused to let you do that, of course, but he’d said you could try the jump without the cloth coffin and you’d been so excited you’d hardly been able to contain yourself.

What the hell had you been thinking?

What you’d been thinking was that Darby’s almost insane appetite for danger and adventure was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. The one thing he didn’t seem to rush into was any kind of relationship with a woman. He’d been married and it hadn’t worked out. They were on good terms but the specter of failure still hung over him. He’d always been able to make things work in his life. But that was because he’d spent most of his life keeping a distance from other people.

The two of you had been tiptoeing around each other for months. The first time you met him, it was all you could do to keep your jaw from dropping because it was like someone had created the man you’d been searching for your entire life. And despite his reticence, he’d quickly warmed to you. His initial shyness couldn’t hide the curious, hopeful looks he would cast at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Still, if the two of you were interested in each other, you’d managed to take a pretty circuitous route to get there. From soft looks and smiles while you both tried to maintain your cool, you’d managed to become friends. Good friends. Everyone else at AEW might think that there was something going on because the two of you were thick as thieves, but the truth is that you’d just become very close. He’d told you about the angst that arrived in the aftermath of his divorce. You’d told him about how you’d just stepped away from dating and relationships when your wrestling career started to take off. You weren’t patient enough to coddle men and reassure them that they were masculine enough even though you could kick their ass. It was tiresome.

So you and Darby had become close friends, talking music and film and road stories and all the while, there’d been this flirtatious tension between you. You touched more than friends should. You were more wrapped up in each other than friends should be. Neither of you seemed in the least interested in meeting anyone else and on the couple of occasions when someone had insisted you give things a try by going on a date with their friend, the two of you had ended up in a cafe giggling about the pointlessness of dating by the end of the night.

By this point, your attraction to him had morphed into a kind of threat, something that could damage the wonderful relationship you already had, so you did what you could to ignore it, sublimating the desire to feel his naked body against yours into a desire to do all sorts of crazy things you’d never had the confidence to do before. Like jumping off a train bridge into a lazy river under the burning heat of the summer sun.

You wondered if he’d be disappointed in you if you backed out. No, you think, he’d never rushed you into anything. If you wanted to bail, he’d just make a face like you were a silly goose but then take your hand and the two of you would walk back to his place and watch movies until you fell asleep. He’d probably even let you pick the movies.

But as you watch the sparkling waters below, as terrifying as it seems, there is a part of you that very much wants to jump. It’s been ages since you’ve dived into water like this, although you used to do it often enough when you were a kid. Darby does shit like this all the time and every time you watch him, in person or on video, your chest burns with envy. Oh to be able to do something that wild.

Sure, you’ve taken him for rides on your motorcycle and he’s gushed about the adrenaline rush it gives him. But when you’re riding, even though it doesn’t always seem that way to a passenger, you know how to be safe. Maybe to other people it seems like you’re taking a risk but you know better. This, you remind yourself, taking in the scent of iron and oil that radiates from the tracks around you, is taking a risk. This is doing something outside your comfort zone.

“I promise,” he assures you, “it’s not as far as you think it is. Divers do this all the time.”

“Divers know what they’re doing.”

“You know what you’re doing. Jump off feet first and let yourself hit the water the same way. Seriously, you have a better chance of being run down by the train than hurting yourself in the water.”

“What?” you nearly shriek, staring wild-eyed at him. “I thought you said the train hardly ever came!”

“Only once a day,” he grins. “Once late in the afternoon.”

“It’s past three. How late in the afternoon are we talking?”

“I’ve never really timed it.”

You turn back to the river below and you swear it’s gotten further away than it was.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking your hand in his, “if you don’t want to do it, don’t worry. It’s not something that normal people would do.”

“You think I’m normal?” you respond, slightly hurt.

“No. I think you’re exceptional. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t normal things that you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” you insist. You look down once again and feel your stomach lurch. “Ok, I’m afraid. But I still feel like I want to try it.”

“You sure? Because it’s not like you can start and then change your mind.”

You rest your hand on the hot railing, relishing its solidity. It’s not going to kill you. You’re in no danger here. You’re an excellent swimmer and have nothing to fear from the water. The space between is a few seconds, nothing more. A few adrenaline charged seconds, the sort of thing that you’re always chasing. And it’s something you feel might bring you closer to Darby. He won’t be disappointed in you if you back out. But if you go ahead, he’ll be able to see something in you that he hasn’t before, possibly something that you haven’t seen yourself. Somehow the jump will peel a layer off you like the skin of an onion.

“I’m gonna do it,” you assert.

You throw one leg over the railing ,grimacing at the heat of the metal against your thighs.

“No no.” He grasps your arm to make sure you don’t go any farther. “Wear as little as possible. Any clothes are going to weigh you down.”

You’re not wearing a lot but what he’s saying makes a lot of sense. And it’s not like you’re averse to the idea of getting undressed in front of him.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he jokes. “I’ll bring everything with me.”

You climb back onto the bridge and self-consciously start to peel off your clothing: your loose cotton shirt and the tank top underneath, your shorts and your sandals. You pause before deciding to remove your bra. The metal of its underwiring might not weigh you down but you can picture the impact forcing it up around your neck, or at least making you more uncomfortable.

Darby takes each item of clothing, averting his eyes even before you reveal your breasts. When you do, you can see his breathing grow heavier and more rapid. You’ve known almost since the beginning that he wants you the same as you want him. The question has always been whether or not you want each other enough to set aside the disheartening experiences you’ve had. Under no circumstances do you want to sacrifice what you’ve built. You just don’t know if there’s a way to keep it if you introduce that other element.

Once again, you climb ungracefully over the railing. You cling to it and stare at him, biting your lip as you feel the cool breeze wafting up from the river below. He sees the expression on your face and immediately grips your neck with one hand, his impossibly blue eyes locked on yours.

“You ok?”

“I don’t know,” you whimper.

“Still enough time for you to back out.”

“I don’t want to.”

And it’s true, you don’t. Whatever’s waiting for you at the end of your drop, you’re more eager to meet it than to cling to your own notions of safety.

“I’ll be down there. I can make it really fast so just swim until you see me. Everything will be ok, I promise.”

With that, he releases his grip and you turn to face your fate. Looking down makes you dizzy and so you stare up at the cloudless sky, right into the sun so that your vision is disrupted by colorless splotches. You close your eyes but the spots are still there. dancing inside your brain as you lean forward, sweaty hands sliding over the beam, flecks of paint and rust digging into your skin.

“You’ll be ok,” Darby murmurs from behind you. “Give me a head start?”

You nod without opening your eyes. This will be much easier if you can just convince yourself that the drop isn’t there, that you’re just going to let yourself go and you’ll be in the water immediately. But somehow, you can still tell. You can hear the distance. You can feel it in how the wind surrounds you. You are not near firm ground.

You turn and glance over your shoulder in time to see Darby retreating from the bridge and starting to scamper down the embankment like he’s being pursued by the devil. You know he won’t think poorly if you chicken out and just follow him but at the same time, you want this to happen. You feel like it’s going to change you, as silly as it seems.

The sun beats down on your face and you give yourself a few second to absorb the heat, to the point where all you want is to feel cool and clean. You surprise yourself by opening your eyes and although you can’t look down, you’re very aware of your position as you let go of the railing and hop forward just enough to allow yourself to clear the structure.

As soon as you’re falling, it’s like everything inside your body gets sucked up an out of you, like your soul is drifting away and you’re nothing but a petrified brain in a sack of skin plummeting. It’s only seconds but it feels like you’re dropping forever, the parts of yourself being pulled further apart at every inch.

When you hit the water, it’s like there’s an explosion around you and for a fraction of a second you think you’ve clipped a land mine. It’s just a huge roar and then immediately you’re underneath it, the sound gone, like you’ve suddenly gone deaf. The water is cold, colder than you’d imagined, cold enough that your heart stalls while it tries to adjust to everything you’ve just put it through.

Instinctively, you curl your legs up in case you’re closer to the bottom than you believed and then you just let yourself stay still until your body stops sinking. From there, you’re able to push yourself up with surprising ease, trying to keep a grip on your mind as it registers that your breath will not hold much longer. And even though you’re not as close to the bottom as you’d feared, it still seems to take you so long to push your way up to the surface, towards the sunlight that shimmers along the rippling water.

Your head breaks the surface and you immediately breathe in as deeply as you can, sputtering a little when some water gets in your throat. The air itself is an adventure you hadn’t planned on, burning in your chest. It takes you a moment to clear the water from your eyes and get your bearings but when you do, you see Darby moving along the side of the river, easily keeping pace with you and the current.

He waves and smiles when he sees that you’ve noticed him and then walks down into the water, up to his waist. You’re able to marshal control of your muscles and push yourself towards him. It’s not that you didn’t believe he’d be there for you but you’re still somehow pleasantly surprised to see him. You’re grinning as you get close and he grabs your arm to guide you to your feet.

“Follow me,” he tells you, holding both your hands and picking his way back through the mud as he guides you.

You’re a little embarrassed that you’re still gasping loudly but he doesn’t seem to notice it or find it odd.

“I… I don’t know…” you pant, your lungs aching with the effort.

“It’s ok. Give it a minute until you’re feeling better.”

He helps you into a small clearing in the foliage and removes his shirt, wiping the water off your face and softly wringing your hair. He still hangs on to your other hand but doesn’t look you in the eyes until he’s satisfied he’s dealt with the water as best he can.

The light bounces off the droplets of water clinging to your skin and his, which makes your vision grow starry. You give him a wan smile because you can tell your expression is a little off. He runs a calloused finger over your jaw, guiding your head so that you look back up at him.

“Are your ears ok?”

You giggle. “My ears?”

“You look a little dazed. Sometimes when you hit the water it can mess with your eardrums.”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t get hurt,” you tease.

“It’s nothing serious. Just one of those things you want to keep an eye on.”

He looks at you inquiringly and it’s a long moment before you realize he still expects you to answer his question.

“My ears are ok. They don’t hurt or anything.”

There’s an almost musical quality to the sounds of frogs and cicadas wafting through the woods, like you can hear notes in nature that you couldn’t before. Maybe your ears aren’t alright.

But it’s not just the sounds. It’s like you can see every ray of light piercing through the leaves, like the dirt and stones on the ground feel different than they did before. Even Darby seems different, like you’re seeing him in sharper focus, and you want to tell him but you can’t even figure out how to explain it, so you rest your hand on his arm, swirling your fingers lightly over his skin and smiling as you feel the fine hairs rise.

You can tell that he knows there’s something different from the way he looks back at you. He’s curious what’s going through your mind.

“I’m sorry if that sucked for you,” he says quietly. “It was a stupid stunt. I shouldn’t have pushed you into it.”

“You didn’t. And it didn’t suck. It was cool. Maybe not fun, really but… I liked it. I’m still liking it.”

With that, you give his arm a little tug and he obliges by moving closer. You’re still breathing deeply and rapidly, but it’s no longer just because of the jump.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his eyes focused on your lips.

You think about it for a moment but the answer is clear enough.

“Alive,” you whisper.

The two of you lean in until your lips just meet and you move them softly against each other, the dewy moisture and light pressure making your skin tingle. You take your time, allowing yourselves to savour each sensation, both of you perfectly in sync, never rushing the other, never pulling the other along. When you draw each other closer, it’s like that feeling of electricity that you get in your skin just before a thunderstorm breaks. Your tongues come together, exploring at the same leisurely pace, quiet sounds of pleasure emanating from both of you. He flicks the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth and you jump at the sensation, but you immediately pull him closer to you, running your nails ever so slowly down the back of his neck.

It’s very obvious that he’s excited and you are too, half drunk on the sounds and smells of the forest, your head still spinning like you haven’t stopped falling. But you have stopped falling. You’ve pulled yourself from the river and he’s gathered you into his arms and nothing has ever felt as real as the two of you savouring everything about it as you come together for the first time.

#aew imagine #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #darby allin imagine #darby allin fanfic #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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yanderecandystore · 4 years

Note

The bullies with an S/O that’s just completely off the board? Like no matter how much they look the bullies can’t find /anything/ on them, all their school papers are forged and their home just isn’t able to be found no matter how hard they look? Maybe due to the S/O changing their identity after doing something bad?

That's hella specific and I love it?? XD

Sure thing boo, let me see what I can do.

Also, I'll change the ocs profiles to be paper drawings with digital coloring because believe me boo, I'm tired of redrawing them (and I believe y'all are tired of always seeing these new drawings).

I noticed that my paper art is a lot better than my digital art, and although I'm kinda proud of them I still feel a little petty because I wish to do cool stuff on the computer ;-;.

Anyway, just a heads-up if you see something off with the oc's bios.

TW/Tags: I have no idea what to tag this lmao // identity theft // illegal/unauthorized inscription // not an accurate representation of university/how universities work lol // abusive household/abusive parents // I may or may not have changed your concept a little, I'm sorry for it 😔

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Suspicion (fuck yeah, I don't know what to title this) [Yandere!Bully OC x Reader - Headcanon]:

→Adrien Coldwell:

For a person that prides themselves as the "know it all" when it comes to people's social media and reputation, he doesn't know anything about you.

This is a first for him, which is both annoying and honestly so intriguing. You didn't strike him as a person who would hide any secrets, and he had a hunch this was about to be good.

He searched for social media first, not finding anything about Avery Remington. Well, at least nothing with your face on it.

However, he did find something very, very interesting while looking at the school's documents, specifically the archives of all the students that have already studied here. He honestly didn't think he would find anything about you in these old papers, he was probably doing all this stupid work for nothing.

However, he was half right and half wrong. He didn't find anything about you, but this whole search wasn't completely lost, as he did find "you", Avery.

"- Student name Avery Remington, average grades and apparently no history of wrong doings or any bad behavior in general. Their registration to the Academy dates to 1980."

Oh. Ooooh, this was rich.

"- Huh." He said closing the documents and letting it where he found it. He was at least kind enough to let the palace a little organize after going through each paper trying to find your name.

Well, "your name". The only things that he kept for himself was photos of both the old documents about Avery Remington, and the earlier documents about Avery Remington. It was clear that you did something probably really, really bad, and you know he'll take advantage of it.

He had built his own theory about this, as in: you somehow found the paperwork of Avery's registration and their previous school's records so you could somehow impersonate them and get a free entrance to this institution.

He knew that you had something to hide, no one can be so perfect. But knowing the action itself wasn't enough for him, he needed to know the motive behind it.

For someone that is lazy and doesn't bother to care about important things, he sure spent a lot of time trying to scoop some dirt on you. When he finds the perfect opportunity, without any witness around, he'll take the chance to use this information against you.

"- Well, hello "Avery"." His tone was already suspicious, his voice not hiding anything from you. He came here to belittle you for his own entertainment.

"- H-Hi Adrien." You said shyly, hoping that your anxious mind was wrong and that this was all just a misunderstanding. You were hoping that the growing feeling of him possibly knowing about your fraud, was wrong.

"- Ya know, I'm kinda jealous of whatever plastic surgery you went through to look so young, maybe you should ask the faculty to correct your age tho." He said while showing the pictures he took of the documents.

"- Wait! I-I can-"

"- Honestly, I didn't think you were over 60 years old! Could have fooled me." His smug face was the selling point. You knew that you wouldn't find any form to convince him that what was on his phone was false.

He had a victorious smile on his face. Ever since you entered this school you always acted a little too paranoid and almost too friendly for his liking, and to confess to himself that he has fallen for you would be the bottom of the pit to him.

Still, he wanted to know why you did it. Why didn't you pay to get in if you wanted the scholarship so badly? What, you were too poor for it?

And what about a talent, or the test? Obviously, the university hasn't gone out of their way to pick a loser like you and insert you inside their classes on a whim, as they thought you were Avery Remington, a student that is already registered in school's documents (yet, of course, their system haven't verified the date of the registration, either by incompetence or by a "small mistake"). So you didn't do the test too, simply pathetic honestly.

Your sad dramatic story explaining how you managed to get into the academy. You did your best to get into the academy by legal means, but they always rejected you. Apparently you thought it would be a good idea to use your grandparent's documents to squeeze yourself into the institution.

"- But why in hell would you do such a thing? Are you that pathetic dearest?"

"- I… I wanted somewhere to go. Somewhere I could grow into a better person, a-away from-" You cut yourself short when the memories of your old home started to come into view.

For some reason, your parents couldn't stand the idea of you getting into a decent university, if anything, they thought you weren't capable of even washing some dishes at the local pizzeria. In their eyes, you were worthless.

When you found out your grandparent used to frequent this institution, and that they managed to disattached themselves from their familial routes and thrive as a musician you got instantly inspired! Determined to follow their steps and prove your family that you're just as worth ass-

"- Urghhhh- Boring! I don't care about all of that. Are you serious? You committed a crime just so you could stick it up to your shitty parents?"

"- …. Yes?"

"- Huh. Geez you're cooler than I thought. Listen, how about we make a deal?"

The deal was simple, he would not tell anyone about your little secret, and he would even help you keep your scholarship and help you reach your ambitions as long as you started spending more time with him. Which, at first you thought it sounded absurd, this man is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give him attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Adrien was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Come on now, after this we can go eat something okay? Where would you like to go this time? Our last date I chose the best restaurant I know, so you better choose something of equal value."

…. Date?

→Alexandra Coldwell:

You were suspicious from the very start. Overly friendly and too- Ugh! Too cute?!

You were always skittish whenever someone called you. What, you had a problem with your name or something?

And the worst part was how no one seemed to know where you lived. Every group project with you was considered annoying by most of your classmates, as you never called people in your house or never let anyone have your address, not even your phone number??

You didn't have any social media, what are you, a weirdo? What the hell??!

She is not even pissed about you being a loser, she is pissed that she has fallen for someone like you! A complete weirdo that was always panicking over nothing.

She started stalking you with the intention of finding at least one thing that she could hate on you so she wouldn't feel so- Lovey dovey towards you!

But what she really found was something worth an entire gold mine.

A private phone call between you and someone who was losing their shit. She couldn't understand too much of the conversation as she didn't have any context, yet she could hear a lot of things that you and the person were discussing.

The person yelled [Y/N] multiple times while in the phone call, saying how you were absolutely the worst mistake of their lives (which by the way, rude much? Who is this asshole?), that you were a selfish brat that needed to learn to appreciate their hard work.

Oh… Oh. She now knows who you're talking with. She decided to record the entire thing the moment she saw you taking your cellphone to have a private call.

She was planning on recording your voice for her own hearing pleasure, but this? This was so… Interesting.

"- [Y/N]?" She called your attention after the conversation ended, and because you haven't been accustomed to people calling you "Avery", you turned around saying "what" instinctively.

And when you noticed Alexandra smirk for a split second, you regretted answering your parents call. Not that you needed anymore reason to regret it, but this was certainly the last nail in the coffin.

You begged for her to understand that you couldn't go back, you simply can't go back to them, ever again! You told her the whole sob story about how your grandparent had decided to run away from home and fulfil their own dreams as a musician, even if people didn't really hear their music all that much, and now that you think about it, that's probably the reason why no one have recognized their name at all.

Your grandparent had a really small fanbase, and you knew that because you were part of them. They weren't popular at all compared to Amaryllis Academy standards, yet they were happy singing their songs to the world.

You kinda wish your family hasn't broken the old recorder that belonged to your grandparent. Their first album was in there, it was cheesy and filled with errors, yet they sounded so happy when doing what they loved, and you wanted something like that for yourself!

You needed to live that hell hole and so you did. You rented a small apartment that was falling apart, the reason why you never gave people your address was because you knew they would bully the hell out of you because of how poor you are.

After finishing your story you noticed Alexandra snoring beside you. You thought she was only exaggerating, but then you saw her drooling and acting really dizzy after you woke her up.

"- Oh my God, so… That was it? You ran away to follow your dreams and stuff?" She asked, still kinda sleepy.

"- What? Of course it was-" You were fuming with anger, how dare she-

"- And I thought you only looked cool because I liked you! You're pretty strong for sticking up for yourself." She interrupted you, looking at you with admiration in her eyes.

She proposed to you a deal. How about you two keep this secret together, and, if anything does happen she'll still help you stay inside the institution. However, you'll need to work your ass out to become the best you can be, and you'll let her guide you through, because you're too much of a dummy to do it all by yourself. You'll have to spend time with her and let her help you out.

At first, you thought it sounded absurd, this woman is holding your whole life by a thin thread as long as you give her attention?? What?!

And although that sounded extremely suspicious, you accepted it, not knowing that for the next few years you would have to endure a harsh training to discover your talents and to improve them before you two graduated. However, you started to think Alexandra was starting to see your deal in a different light-

"- Why you never hold my hand? Come on, "Avery", won't you hold the hand of your dearest girlfriend?" She asked playfully while taking your hand anyway.

…. Girlfriend?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere bully #yandere twins #yandere oc headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere bully x reader #yandere bullying #yandere headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #yandere

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okayto · 3 years

Text

Mini-Review: Prince of Stride Alternative

Stride, a competitive relay race/parkour team sport, is popular across Japan, and freshman Nana Sakurai chose her high school specifically because of its team’s great reputation. One problem: she finds the team a shell of its former self! Can Nana and fellow obsessive freshman Takeru help re-establish the team, recruit new members, and get the team to the top competition?

Sports anime! We love a good sports anime, right? Stride is fictional, a parkour relay race where runners must “relation,” or high-five within a certain distance of the next section’s beginning instead of passing a baton. This means each team requires a “relationer,” someone who coordinates and communicates with the team (using very accurate GPS and earpieces) about when to start, whether to adjust their speed, and so forth.

The idea is intriguing, honestly. I don’t know if the GPS technology is there yet, but otherwise I could see this being a viable real-life sport.

Being a short (12 episode) sports anime, it follows the typical outline: getting the team together, teamwork problems, competitions, Big Tension That The Team Must Address To Move Forward, more competitions, more teamwork problems, personal doubts, all interspersed with good-humored group gatherings, and an ending that leaves you feeling happy.

I wavered occasionally while watching, though, because the drama of other teams and most of the other teams themselves, are the series’ weak spot. (The main exception is the Designated Arch-Rival Team, who are nice.) Trash-talking obsessive caricatures who raised my hackles, not in a good way. It was just like, Oh, I see the writers can’t find any other way to characterize other teams, so we’re dealing with this again. It took away from the fun of watching Parkour Tag Racing.

Plus one of the main characters is, of course, the guy who is Way Too Serious and hardly gets called out, because being an asshole is okay if it’s In the Name of Sport. True to tradition he learns how to be less of a jerk to people by the end, but still.

(I will admit that others may not dislike him as much as I did; he could be quite charming and a funny character when the writers were having a good day. When handled well, his inflexibility and one-track mind were hilarious.)

The drama feels uneven. There would be entire parts of episodes where I thought, meh, why should I continue? and then they would be immediately followed by narratives of teammates goofing around, puns, the perfect sports show.

Like, I know it’s going for drama, but there’s a bit where Nana discovers her father is playing a pivotal role because it’s announced at an event she’s at. And I’m supposed to be surprised about this, but mostly I was pissed because dude, seriously you couldn’t tell your daughter, whose phone you called like 10 minutes ago? Couldn’t text? Couldn’t send an email to say “Hey, let’s get lunch”? It’s a small part of the show, but it’s a lazy way to write in shock.

Okay, so why am I complaining so much about something I said I enjoyed? Because I did enjoy it. Who doesn’t love a team of generally nice, quirky people who get humorously enthusiastic about things? When the series focuses on the team together, it’s really good. The first few episodes were rougher, but when the show hits its stride (ha) it was really fun, and I genuinely enjoyed watching it overall. I ended the finale with a big smile on my face.

Verdict

English dub? Yes

Visuals: Fine, with bright colors.

Worth watching? Yes. Look, there are plot points I take issue with, because it felt like the writers put little thought into most things they inserted beyond “this will add tension for this episode.” I long to march back in time, to take this as a first draft, and have people rearrange and re-pace some things so that it’s more even.

Because: I liked it. It was, genuinely, fun. It’s a 12-episode sports anime and the nice thing about sports anime is that you can usually predict the overall way the story is going to go, and end, and that’s not a bad thing.

A very interesting fact I found out after I had finished the series: the Alternative part of the title is because this is based on an otome game (basically, the player would be Nana, and there would be routes to romance various boys). While that answered my question (which was WHAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE, ANIME? TELL ME!), it’s interesting because there’s no way I would’ve guessed by just watching. There’s no romance in the show whatsoever. Nana has a definite personality and is part of the team, but the core of her relationships (and all the other boys’ with each other) is pure friendship. Additionally, she’s not set apart more than any than fellow first-years and fellow main-ish characters Riku or Takeru, as far as story focus goes.

Where to watch (USA, as of June 2021): Funimation (sub and dub), Hulu (sub), Tubi (sub), BR/DVD

Click my “reviews” tag below or search “mini review” on my blog to find more!

#Prince of Stride #Prince of Stride: Alternative #Prince of Strike Alternative #anime #reviews #recommendation #if you've watched it do you know what I mean? about the uneven-ness & how frustrating it was?#because when it's good and the jokes are flowing it's SO fun and I want a second season #or I want 'Prince of Stride Alternative Alternative' which is this show but rewritten by me to leave out some lazy choices

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kumeko · 5 years

Text

breathers

Characters/Pairings: Naminé/Riku

A/N: Written for the @khrarepairszine charity zine! I picked Naminé/Riku, I’ve had a soft spot for them since CoM. Take a look at the other contributors or pick up a copy. :)

Summary: Naminé had none of Sora’s laziness or Kairi’s relaxed attitude, and honestly, Riku would have left the islands years ago if she’d been around. Still, everyone needed a break, Nobodies included.

…

“Mmmmmm, mmmm, mmmmm,mmm.”

A delicate humming filled the white house and Riku didn’t have to look to know where it was coming from. He’d recognize Naminé’s soft voice anywhere. Automatically, his feet followed a familiar path to her room. As he got closer, he heard the soft scratch of her crayons, the sharp flip of a page.

Spotting her familiar silhouette, he stopped at the doorway. As usual, she was sitting at the table, her head bent as she drew scene after scene. The walls were filled with images, with memories, and Riku scanned the colourful pictures. There was the time he raced with Sora, making the raft with Kairi, sleeping under the stars. Other, unknown memories filled with mermaids and warriors and constellations he didn’t know.

He never did have a chance to talk to Sora after all was said and done, to boast about adventures and swap tales. Quietly, so as not to disturb Naminé, Riku drifted from picture to picture. A boy with a monkey smirked mischievously in one. Another had a bear with his head caught in a honey pot. Riku’s fingers brushed against one of Kairi giving Sora the paopu fruit.

“I had to make sure that memory was returned,” Naminé said apologetically, slowly setting down her sketchpad.

Resisting the urge to jump, Riku withdrew his hand. “It is an important one.”

“Yeah.” Pushing her chair back, Naminé slipped off and joined him. Her sad eyes took in the scene and she smiled softly. “That fruit was the basis of everything.”

“Everything?” Riku asked, cocking his head in confusion.

“For our ‘friendship’.” She touched the paopu fruit lightly. Her fingers slowly slid off the picture and she turned around and pointed at a few other sketches. The golden fruit was prominent in each of them. “This fruit was important to you. Both of you. So I used that to insert myself.”

Both of you. Riku didn’t have to ask what she meant by that. It was impossible to forget the sight of his death, of his body choking and gasping for its last breath. “There’s a story on my island, that if two people share one—”

“Their destinies are intertwined,” Naminé completed. She chuckled at his surprised expression. “You have no idea how often you guys said that in his memories.”

Riku flushed. Had they really talked about it that much? About this old wife’s tale, with no basis in reality? It was stupid, really. A thing that couldn’t be true in any way. A thing that he spent several years wishing for, a connection that was permanent. A connection that would stay. The dark part of his heart that Ansem had slipped into. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed with a grin, smiling whole-heartedly for once. “You say it a lot.”

“Not that often,” he disputed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Just to tease Sora with.”

“Hmm…that may be so.” A serious expression slipped back onto her face and Riku felt a pang of regret. It had been rare enough that she laughed. “Still.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry you didn’t get it.”

Caught off guard, Riku stared at her. None of his wisecracks came to him, none of his taunts. He was utterly speechless. “I…”

Naminé said nothing, just giving him a knowing look before letting go. She turned back to her table. “I have almost finished removing the altered memories.”

Riku glanced at the picture one last time before following her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he peered at her sketchbook. It was thin now, with only a few pages left. A testament to how hard she worked. “Do you take breaks?” he asked without thinking.

“Huh?” Naminé blinked, staring at her notepad and then back at him. Confusion shone in her eyes and she cocked her head. “Breaks?”

“Vacations? Rest? Time off?” Riku rolled his eyes as he clarified. “You’ve been in Sora’s memories, so you have to know what a break is. That’s all the slacker did.”

“Yeah, of course I do! But…” Naminé’s skin flushed a bright red, and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just…I didn’t.”

“After all that work?” Riku raised a brow. Gesturing with his head at all the pictures, he frowned. “No one should work that long without a break.”

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” She rubbed her wrist, her shoulders hunching till she looked even smaller than usual. “I don’t—I don’t need a break. It’s fine.”

“Everyone needs a break.” Riku reached out and grabbed her hand. Yanking her behind him, he headed to the door. “Even you.”

“No, I—” Naminé protested, digging in her heels. “I can’t, not after what I did.”

“You’ve apologized enough for that,” Riku rebutted, firmly pulling her along. “Sora’s forgiven you. And even if my clone can’t, I’ve forgiven you. It’s enough.”

“It isn’t,” she muttered softly.

“…don’t you think I deserve it even less than you?” Riku asked, looking over his shoulder. When she didn’t say anything, he smirked. “Besides, Sora likes sleeping more than anything. He’ll be fine sleeping for a few extra hours.”

She stared at him for a long moment before finally giving in. “There’s nowhere to go, the mansion doesn’t really have that much in it.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” Riku muttered, scratching his chin. Aside from the basement, the mansion was fairly lightly furnished. Even the garden outside was barebones, and whatever little plants grew there had gone wild. “Then we can explore the city.”

“The city?” Naminé shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“It’s a break,” Riku cut her off wryly. Really, there was none of Sora’s or Kairi’s laziness in her. It was almost refreshing to see someone take things seriously for once. “Where were you when I was making that raft? I would have left the islands years ago.”

Reaching the front door, he let go of her hand and opened it. Bright sunlight filtered through and he shaded his eyes as he stepped out. A soft breeze rustled his hair, a bird chirped nearby, and he had almost forgotten what spring was like. There hadn’t been much time during his journey to just enjoy the places he went to, the seasons the worlds experienced. Turning back, he held out his hand for Naminé. “You coming or do I have to drag you out?”

“I…” Naminé hesitated, fiddling with her hands nervously as she stared at him. Biting her lip, she took a step outside. Her shoulders hunched, her body braced for some sort of reaction. For someone to drag her back in and put the sketchpad back into her hands.

“You can leave the entrance, you know,” Riku encouraged gently, his hands still held out.

“Y-yeah.” Emboldened when nothing happened, she grabbed his hand tightly and took another step. And then another. She squinted up at the sky, at the clouds that littered the blue expanse. “It’s…beautiful.”

Riku shrugged. He’d seen better skies on his island. “I guess.”

“I…” Naminé’s head darted left and right, taking in the tall grasses and wild roses that made up the front lawn. “I’d seen it all from his memories. And I think I might have come through here once. But…I didn’t get to see it myself before. Not really.”

“Never?” Riku jerked his head to her, surprised.

“Nobodies, we’re not really born like everyone else.” Naminé stared down at the grass, slipping a foot out of her sandals to touch it. Delighted by the ticklish sensation, she set her foot down on the squishy ground and wiggled her toes. “I kinda just came to be, at that castle. And then I was taken here, but that was through a warp gate.”

“Huh.” Riku rubbed the back of his neck. They were more similar than he’d thought. “So your island was that castle, then.”

“Hmm?” Naminé peered up at him curiously.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Put your shoes back on, we’re going to town.”

“Right. Town.” Naminé set her jaw determinedly. Pressing her foot one last time on the grass, she slipped her sandal back on. “Ready.”

Riku resisted the urge to laugh at the image in front of him. She looked so determined, like she was off to fight a battle rather than just walk into a small town. But her hand was sweaty in his, her nails digging into his skin lightly, and maybe for her this was a fight. “Alright. Since this is your first time, I’ll guide you.”

-x-

“They have scents.” Naminé stared at the rose in her hand, twirling between her fingers. Raising it to her nose, she sniffed it again. “Actual scents.”

“And thorns.” Gently, he pulled the flower away from her hand. Luckily, she had gripped the stem at the exact right spot to avoid the sharp defense system. Glancing at the house in front of them, he carefully pushed the branch back in place. “Let’s not invade someone’s garden.”

Not paying him any heed, Naminé wandered to the house next door, to a creeping vine of morning glories. “This one smells so different!”

“Did you hear me?” Riku groaned, staring down at the long line of houses ahead of them. Maybe he should have taken a different route into town. Not that it would have made much of a difference, there were going to be flowers no matter what path they took.

Sniffing a peony, Naminé chirped, “This one too!”

It was going to be a long walk.

-x-

A bird chirped. Naminé cupped her ears as they walked, listening to the sounds around her. Riku watched her from the corner of his eye as she tried to identify the owners of different sounds: birds, dogs, other villagers. Her head craned left and right, and there was something endearing about how she pivoted at each new sound.

“It’s so noisy,” she murmured, looking excited despite her words.

“Compared to the mansion, sure,” he refuted, crossing his arms behind his head as he slowed his pace. “If you think this is loud, wait till you see a city.”

-x-

“Here.” Riku held out a popsicle, plopping the other one in his mouth. Immediately, a cold, sweet flavour hit his tongue, with a salty kick after.

“For me?” Naminé awkwardly accepted, staring at the blue popsicle. The wooden handle was slightly slippery and she pinched it with two fingers, trying to save the rest of her hand from the sticky substance. “A popsicle?”

“It’s the town’s specialty. Might as well try it.” Riku pulled his treat out of his mouth before he could get a brain freeze. “Take a lick, it’s pretty good.”

“Alright.” Scrunching her face, Naminé hesitantly stuck out her tongue and licked it. She squeezed her eyes shut, considering the flavour, before opening them with surprise. “It’s sweet.”

“And at a normal level.” Riku shuddered, remembering the frozen treats Sora and Kairi used to have. It was like having pure sugar dissolve on his tongue. “Though I could do without the salt.”

“You just want to—” Naminé glanced at him and immediately covered her mouth. It couldn’t completely muffle the sound of her laughter and Riku glared at her.

“What?”

“Just…your tongue. And lips.” Naminé’s shoulders shook as she tried to compose herself. “It’s all blue.”

-x-

“It’s cold!” Naminé yelped, taking a step back. There weren’t many ways to access the shore in Twilight town; the lack of beaches and frosty waters deterred even the most adventures of visitors.

Sitting on a rock, Riku raised a brow. “What did you think it was gonna be? Warm?”

“A little.” Naminé shivered, her feet still in the water. The barest edges of the water. The tide lapped at her feet, tiny waves crashing down on her ankles, and she took yet another step back. Looking back at him, she frowned. “The waters in your home were pleasant.”

“Yeah, because we lived in the tropics.” Riku rolled his eyes. Then again, Sora had never bothered to pay attention to any class, even geography, so maybe she wouldn’t know that.

A more powerful wave charged up the shore, enveloping her feet, and she darted back even further. “I’m good for now.”

“You sure?” Riku smirked, gesturing at the water. “You were only in it for a few minutes.”

“No, definitely, definitely good.” Naminé broke into a run as another crash sounded behind her.

-x-

“I hear this has the best view of the sunset,” Riku explained, opening the door on the top of the clock tower. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and he shielded his eyes as the sun’s last rays hit him. “We’re on time at least.”

Following him out, Naminé peered around him. “Ohhh.” Amazed, she pushed past him and hurried to the railing. Her mouth slack, she watched as the pink and orange hues bled into the blue sky, the sun heading down into the water. “Amazing!”

“Yeah. I guess.” Riku had seen this sight more often than he cared to remember. It was strange to watch it alone, without Sora’s stupid remarks or Kairi’s sharp jabs.

“I didn’t know it could be so beautiful,” Naminé breathed, her eyes fixed on the sun.

Riku smiled. Right, he wasn’t alone. Not now. Leaning on the railing next to her, he glanced at Naminé. “It?”

“The sky.” Naminé paused, then shook her head. “The world. Everything, really. I saw them in your memories, but…it’s something else to see them for yourself. I never knew such bright blue existed. Or such soft pinks. What else is the universe hiding?”

“Underwater worlds, worlds ruled by animals,” Riku listed, ticking them off with his finger. “A lot, really. You’ll just have to visit more worlds. Take more breaks.”

“Visit…” Naminé mused, lowering her eyes slightly. With a sad smile, she shook her head. “No, this is enough. More than enough.”

“Why?” Riku frowned.

“I can’t leave the manor like this again—I have too much to do.” She beamed at him, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “I got a lot of memories from this, it can tide me over.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she covered his lips with a finger, her expression stern. “No, really. Thank you. This is more than enough for someone like me.”

Someone like me. He hated how much that sounded like a curse.

-x-

“Thanks for today.” Naminé stretched her arms behind her as she sauntered into her room. Glowing, she beamed brightly at him. “It was a lot of fun, having a break.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad every once in a while.” Riku rested a hand on his hip, a smirk on his face. “Just don’t take it as often as Sora does.”

“Maybe he wanted you to take more breaks.” Laughing, she glanced at one of the drawings on the wall. A picture of a boy sleeping on the sand, without a care in the world. “Or maybe he’s just lazy.”

“The latter. Definitely the latter.” On the wall next to him, Riku spotted one of Sora’s terrible drawings. A picture of Sora’s and Kairi’s head, a paopu fruit passed from one to the other. It was strange. He felt so detached looking at it now. Yet when he’d first saw it, a tidal wave of rage had overcome him. Enough to destroy his world. Enough to destroy many worlds.

At some point, the wave broke, the rage ebbing away. All that was left was a sense of fondness, of his two dense, idiotic friends and a scenario he should have seen eons ago. He glanced behind him. Naminé was humming again as she picked up her sketch pad. There was one more thing he could do for her.

“Gimme a sheet.” Walking over to the table, Riku picked up a golden crayon. He rolled it in his hand; the colour was just right.

“You’re going to draw?” Mystified, Naminé carefully tore out a page for him. “I thought you weren’t good at that.”

Riku shot her a baleful glare. The downside of her combing through Sora’s memories—his past was an open book to her. Including all of his art classes. “I’m just not interested in it.”

“That wasn’t what—”

“I’m just not interested,” he repeated forcefully, grumpily glaring at her. It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t good, so he wasn’t interested. There was no point in doing something that even Sora, the class idiot, got higher marks than him in. Spreading the sheet of paper, he stared at it for a long moment. Maybe this was a bad idea. Even a simple shape ended up distorted in his hands.

“If you say so,” Naminé acquiesced, covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

Riku peeked at her from the corner of his eyes. Shoulders shaking, eyes full of mirth, Naminé looked like an ordinary girl. Nothing like the sad Nobody he usually saw, counting down the days till she disappeared. Determined, he started drawing, straight confident lines into the shape of a star.

“So, what are you drawing?” Naminé tried to peek over his shoulder, but he blocked her.

“Just wait.” Biting his cheek, he glanced at her artwork on the walls. Yep. He was right. He was no good at this and he was definitely never doing it again. Finishing the piece, he instructed, “Hold out your hand.”

Naminé cocked her head. “My hand?”

“Just hold it out,” he ordered. When she held out her right hand, he placed the sheet on her hands.

“What?” Naminé stared at it, realization dawning in her expression. “This is…”

“You didn’t get one either, right?” Riku shrugged, looking away in embarrassment as she stared at him. “It might not be as good as yours, but even I can draw a paopu fruit.”

“It’s not that. I…I can’t…” Naminé looked back at the paper, her hand still flat and rejecting it entirely. “I’m…I’m not real. I’ll go away.”

She really wasn’t like any of his friends: softer, more awkward, more nervous. And completely unable to let herself be happy. “Didn’t I say I wouldn’t forget?” Riku reminded her. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Her bones felt fragile under his hand. “You’re real to me. You’re here.”

Stricken, she shook her head. “But I….”

He folded the paper and curled her hand over the hard edges. It crinkled at the touch. “And now you’ll always be real, because our destinies are intertwined.”

She bit her lip before slowly nodding. Wiping a tear from her eyes, she chuckled. “You’re really bad at drawing.”

“Oh, shut up.” Riku turned around, his ears burning hot. “Like I said, I’m just not interested in it.”

#naminé #riku x namine #riku #namine #kh #kingdom hearts #fanfic #i wish I could have expanded their date a bit more #or had it flow better #but other than that i am very happy with how this came out #also i really need to play kh3

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self-shipper-snowdrop · 4 years

Text

F/O February; Day One - Reverse Self Ship

*It’s a cool, but sunny day outside. There isn’t much to do around the house- it’s probably best to go out, see who you can run into from the academy. It can’t be dramatic all the time! Where would you like to go?

>The local park

*Some fresh air would do you good. Heading to the park, you spot someone. It looks to be the shy girl from your class, who tends to sit alone by the window. She doesn’t appear to be busy. You approach.

Bronwen C: Oh, hi there. Wasn’t expecting to see you here. …Did you need something?

*Bronwen steps out of the fitting room, face a little pink as she adjusts the black choker around her neck. Your friends gasp, while her family is nearly in tears nearby. You can’t help but stare.

*She’s careful and elegant as she walks up to the raised platform, lifting the too long icy blue gown to prevent herself from tripping. Bronwen blushes a bit as she looks towards you, but averts her eyes, dropping her skirt with a hand raised to her chest- as if checking her heartbeat. But even despite the pink tint to her cheeks and her nervous demeanour, it’s clear as day that she loves the dress.

Bronwen C: Do I… look okay?

>You put Cinderella to shame. You’re an angel.

*Bronwen’s face goes even redder.

Bronwen C: Dear stars, you’re far too sweet! But… I really do love this one…

*Bronwen takes your hand, pulling you back towards her with a soft cry of ‘wait!’- desperate, but still gentle, as if she didn’t want to draw too much attention. But that was how she was. Even after all the fights, the training and the trials of this school, she was still the same softpoken girl you met on day one- but in a good way.

Bronwen C: I… I can’t imagine life without you. Please, don’t go.

Bronwen C: I love you. More than I’ve loved any other.

*Her hand interlaces with yours, the white silk of her gloves a touch cool from the frozen air outside. It’s clear her heart is racing, but she doesn’t let go.

Bronwen C: I don’t want to leave your side. I never want to let go of someone as special as you.

Bronwen C: Will you please… stay with me?

———————

BONUS END

———————

Itaru sighs a bit as the ending plays all over again, gaze soft as he- without even a hint of hesitation- hits the option to accept Bronwen’s confession. Being so thrilled with the game, he doesn’t notice some of the troupe members step into the room.

“You played Bronwen’s route again?” Sakuya questioned, noticing the art of Bronwen in her famous ice blue dress on the TV once again, “Didn’t you say you’d complete the game? I haven’t seen you do any romances but hers!”

“Yeah, what about Masami’s route? Or Shiori’s? Bronwen isn’t the only character.” Tsuzuru pointed out.

Itaru looked a little annoyed by the interruption, but as his eyes graced the art of Bronwen on the screen, that was swift to fade away. He couldn’t really admit to the truth- there was no way he was letting them find out about the blog he had, with all that self insert content he’d hidden away- but at the same time… it was obvious this was all he was doing.

“I guess I’m just not interested in the other characters.”

—————

OKAY SO This ended up crazy long but!!! Even with my lazy BGs (and lack thereof for the last one, I was tired lol) I’m proud!

So I basically made up a game for me to be in lmao, it’s kinda inspired by Twisted Wonderland if any of you have heard of it. The idea is that it’s at a magic school with battles and such, and of course visual novel stuff. The big difference is Otome Routes because I said so XD

Also FUN FACT- that second image is actually what my prom dress looks like. I couldn’t resist including it!

#fofebruary #self ship #self insert #romantic; our true colours #the starlight selection #the dreamer’s polaroids #long post

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casualhottubnacho · 5 years

Text

an excerpt from a chatfic i'm writing

Twitter

Hammer and Dickle {√}

@USSR

@Japan 3 am, 7/11 parking lot, boring, oregon, usa, bring your battle axe and a box of matches, be fully prepared to meet god face-to-face.

Viewing Comments:

neeneepapa @oksweaty

@USSR the owner of this account: *brandon rogers voice* Donovan! Meet me on my island at 5 O'clock. Pack my battleaxe and my poetry and be prepared to abandon your religion.

ugh @lordie

@USSR okay but why tf did they pick boring oregon of all places.

sit on my face @lickmybaugette

@USSR vibe check

Furry @Japan

@USSR why do i need matches. also if ur not actually there and i just spent money on a plane ticket i stg im gonna break your teeth

[Image: A crisp picture of the clouds and deep twilight sky outside of a plane window.]

│

│ Hammer and Dickle @USSR

│@Japan you need matches because we're going to set our weapons on fire like civilized people. im bringing the gasoline. meri is gonna spectate. also.

[Image: A slightly blurry image- The photographer was clearly laughing- of a man in a heavy winter coat squatting underneath a "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. His skin is bright red, and an eyepatch with a hammer and sickle is over his right eye. His hand is below his waist, making an "Okay" sign.]

│

│ Furry @Japan

│@USSR I don't trust him to spectate. he'll probably be biased towards you, smh.

│

│ Homosexual Homosapien @America

│@Japan girl no. beat his ass please and thank u.

Furry {√}

@Japan

they didn't let me bring my battleaxe on the plane smh. anyone know of any... like... battle axe stores in oregon,,, or,,,,

Viewing Comments

errebody @rockyobody

@Japan i gotchu fam. there's a store in kelso (near boring) that sells antique weapons and junk. im sure there's a battle axe in there somewhere

│

│ Furry @Japan

│@rockyobody there better be. im coming for you if there isnt

│

│ errebody @rockyobody

│@Japan gay fear

Someone Please Snipe Me {√}

@Germany

In honor of my friend @Japan going to fight one of my least favorite people in the world, I have opted to pressure her into live-streaming her Totally Radical Super Cool™ Fight on Twitch. Uhhhh here's a link I guess: Link

Viewing Comments

Furry @Japan

@Germany "pressure" is right. little rat said he'd send his boyfriend after me if i didn't do what i wanted. i would like to keep my ankles, so i complied.

│

│ Kurwa @Poland

│@Japan I hate you too boo xoxo

Furry {√}

@Japan

insert funny text here

[Images: The first image is of the "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. The second image is off a pair of black sneakers kicking a pair of footprints in the dirt underneath the sign. The third image is of a woman in a full black outfit -Black shoes, black jeans, black hoodie, and black beanie- sitting on the ground in the same spot where the man from earlier was. Both middle fingers are straight up, though there is a wide grin on her face.]

~~~~~~~~~

[A Twitch stream comes to life. On the screen, a pair of black-sneaker-covered feet is quickly striding down a paved road. "Kon'nichiwa," A high-pitched voice begins, "And welcome to... Hell." The camera flicks upwards sharply, showing a neon-lit 7/11 gas station, sharply outlined against the pitch-black night sky. There are only two cars in the parking lot. One is a dirty red convertible Jeep in the employee's area; The other is a nondescript black car with the headlights still on and the engine still running.

The camera flips views. We're now met with a worm's-eye view of a snowy white face with a single red circle in the center. Bright yellow eyes sparkle with mirth as the woman fights back a grin. "So, for anyone who isn't aware, here's a summary of what's about to go down. My name is Japan, I'm an anthropomorphic country, and I'm about to absolutely destroy one of my fellow nations. Well, he's not a nation anymore, but still. He called me a name in the group chat, so I called him Old Man, so he took the obvious route and challenged me to a duel in a 7/11 parking lot. Ya'know, like you do."

Japan shakes her head and giggles. "Also, thank you oh so very much, Twitter user "rockyobody", for informing me of the antique weaponry shop in Kelso. They did indeed carry battle-axes." To punctuate her statement, Japan reaches over her shoulder and lifts the weapon attached to her back out of its holder by a few inches. "I have dubbed my newfound traveling companion Jerry, and he will take many a life in his time on this Earth."

A new voice cuts through the autumn air, strong and deep. "Did you bring the matches, девочка?" They demand. Japan changes the camera once again. Leaning against the black car are two men- One is short and chunky, with round cheeks and long, fluffy hair. 7 red stripes and 6 white, broken only by a square of blue dotted with stars, are emblazed on his face. A white hoodie with the words Designated Peacekeeper is quickly thrown onto him when he sees Japan approach. He flashes her a smile and raises one hand in a wave.

The other man is incredibly tall, almost unnaturally so. A long, military green winter coat hangs loosely from his body- It obviously used to fit him a lot better, maybe when he was wider, or more muscular. His face is scarred and weather-beaten, a leather eyepatch over his right eye. A hammer and sickle, golden and gleaming, sits neatly in the center of the leather. A fluffy brown ushanka is slightly lopsided on his head.

"Well?" He questions. He was the one who spoke before; A harsh accent cuts through his words.

Japan responds by raising a small box of matches in front of the camera. "I gotch'yo damn matches, 老人." She snarks back. The taller man raises a single eyebrow and pushes himself off of the car. "'Meri, pop the trunk," He demands. 'Meri', looking taken aback, steps away from the car and crosses his arm. "Do it'cha self, ya lazy bastard."

Despite the insults, his companion gives him a warm smile and slips around the back of the car. Japan joins them in the parking lot before he comes back around. "So, Ame, he really managed to rope you into moderating this?" She gestures to his hoodie. He chuckles light-heartedly and nods. "Yeah. You wouldn't believe the things he told me when I originally declined."

Japan snorts. "I can believe a lot of things, America."

"At first it was the regular bouts of loving insults, but then it dissolved into really weird nicknames."

"Like?"

"Like 'My little biscuit and gravy'."

"...What?"

America just laughs and waves away the question. "What's taking you so long, sugah?" He drawls, twisting at an odd angle to lean back and glance at the trunk of the car. There's a moment of silence before the man he's addressing mutters, "My... weapon... maybe a bit stuck."

Japan and America both giggle to each other for a few heartbeats before America cooes, "Does this mean we're going home, dear?" The slightly angry response is immediate. "Absolutely not, дорогой," The man spits, appearing at Japan's shoulder. "'Proper edicit', as you so often say, dictates that, as the man who called for the duel, I am not allowed to back out, even if my sword is stuck in the trunk."

"You made me bring a whole fuckin' axe when you get a sword? Sov, my good man, you are an ass."

'Sov' chortles and pats Japan on the head. "Such is life, девочка. You would have an unfair advantage if I let you bring what you wanted. You have no experience with a battle-axe; I have no experience with a sword. It is therefore a fair fight." He ruffles her hair a bit before turning back to America. "In all seriousness, the sword is probably tearing up the fabric on the inside of your trunk." He announces. America swears in a few different languages as he sprints to the other end of his car.

There's a small chime as the door to the 7/11 opens. A pimple-faced teenager peeks his head out. "Hey, uhm- I have no idea what's happening right now, but, uh... I don't think you guys are allowed to have weapons on the property." He nods towards America, who's struggling to rip the sword of out the spot where it's lodged itself in his trunk.

Japan quirks a brow and crosses her arms. Her phone goes a bit lopsided as she does so. "Oh?" Is all she says. She could possibly look intimidating, but the effect, evidently, isn't very strong, as the teen gives her an unamused look. "Yeah. I could possibly over-look that fact if you guys were to, like... scare away any customers who try to approach for a little bit, though..." He trails off and slips back inside the store. Japan scoffs. "Rude."

There's a loud yell of "Fuck!" from the next to where America should be- He's currently on the ground, a sword in his lap. "You're paying for the repairs to my poor car," He snaps, gesturing to the bits of fabric stuck to the sword's blade. Sov's face softens a bit. "I was planning on doing just that," He remarks, moving to help America to his feet. The Westerner blows a bit of hair out of his face once he's on his feet. "This had better be worth it."

"Oh, it will be," Sov says, the steely look returning to him. He picks up the blade clumsily and holds it with clear inexperience. America sighs softly and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment. "God, this is gonna be hard to watch. You can't even hold the sword right."

Sov looks confused. "There's a wrong way to hold a sword?"

"There's a wrong way to do everything, hon."

Japan grins with a sickly-sweetness and sets her phone onto a newspaper box, positioning it to take in the whole parking lot. She steps onto the far right, Sov standing opposite her on the other side. America scurries over to in-between the gas pumps, a chunk of fabric tied to a stick clutched in his hand. "Alright, I want to see a fuckin' dirty fight," He begins, looking first at Japan, then at Sov. "Frickin' bite each other if you have to. I want to see some blood. Japan, you marked your stream as mature, right?"

"Uh..."

"Dumbass, go do that."

Japan reluctantly complies, marching over to her phone. "Alright, I'm gonna stop the stream and start up a new one marked mature. If you want to watch the actual fight, you'll need to go to that one. See you in a few seconds, lads."

The stream ends]

[A new stream opens up on the parking lot again. Japan is back in her original spot, standing rather cockily, her arms crossed behind her back, her spine straight, slightly tip-toed. America clears his throat. "Alright, like I said earlier- Dirty fight. Nothing is illegal, aside from injuring anyone or anything that isn't your opponent. That includes me, the 7/11 worker, an animal that passes by, a gas pump, a tire on a car, anything."

"Fighters, get ready."

Japan suddenly smirks and slips the battle-axe into her hands with ease. "It was bold of you to assume I had no experience with a battle-axe before, Sov." She comments, getting into an offensive stance. Sov goes slack for a moment before resuming his own way of standing with renewed vigor. "...This is fine," He mutters distractedly. Japan's grin only widens.

"And... Go!"

America flicks his flag down, and the fight begins. Japan shoots forward first, swinging in a downward slope towards Sov's legs. Sov jumps backward and jolts his arms into action, barely managing to block Japan's next move. He starts to loudly swear to himself as he continued to struggle to go on the defensive, cursing himself, the ground, the sky, Japan, and even America. "Сукин сын!" He yelps as Japan spins on her heel, around him, and cuts through the fabric of his coat, through to his thigh. The green starts to turn red as the wound begins to bleed.

Sov just shrugs off the coat and tosses it aside. Underneath, he's wearing a black turtleneck and dark grey jeans, as well as black leather boots that stop just below his knees. America lets out a low whistle.

Japan laughs a bit and starts to jog backwards, towards her original spot. "Bad move, 老人," She snarks. Sov growls a bit and bolts after her. She slips past each of his swings like sand through someone's fingers, leading him in a circle before booking it back towards America's car. The Westerner yelps in fear for his vehicle, but Japan emerges from behind it not a moment later, a jug of gasoline in her hands. She runs away from the parking lot and out into the darkness.

"Мошенника!" Sov yells, coming to a stop. He stands there for a moment, panting, before a bright flash from the opposite end of the parking lot has him spinning and raising his sword in defense. Japan appears in the black, her weapon now (quite literally) dripping with flames as she spits on a match and puts it out. "Let's get this party started," She hisses, hefting her axe. The flaming gasoline seems to not affect her as she grips the blazing handle and charges at Sov.

Her opponent stumbles in an attempt to get away, cursing in an odd mix of English, Russian, and, occasionally, Chinese, almost dropping his weapon with how quickly he's attempting to block her attacks.

"Y'know," Japan chokes out, beads of sweat running down her skin, causing her hair to stick to the back of her neck, "I'm glad I put my phone on silent beforehand. If- If it was on vibrate, I can imagine it would have vibrated off of the stand by now."She finishes her sentence with a grunt and her axe makes contact with Sov's arm, causing the man to let out a small noise of pain. Japan wretches herself back, tripping over her own feet from the weight of the weapon. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Sov mutters, clutching at his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Japan smirks. "Had enough?"

"You wish, Potter," America chuckles to himself.

"What is this, a porno?" Sov spits.

Japan starts to giggle as she momentarily drops her axe. "God, this is tiring, I haven't fought anyone in a while."

Sov makes an attempt to lift his sword, but gasps as his wounded arm seizes up. "Shit, Japan- Okay. We're both tired. I'm bleeding out of my ass and my arm. Are- Will you hold it against me if I... Surrender, I suppose? I'm far too old and sick for this."

Japan stands in silence for a few seconds before sighing heavily and nodding. She plops down onto the ground rather suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut. "I won't hold it against you."

"Good," Sov grunts, sitting down as well. America pauses before letting out a long, dramatic groan and waving his flag. "Fight's over, I suppose," He whines, marching over to Sov. "That was anti-climactic as balls," He mutters as soon as he's close enough to his friend. Sov nods distractedly. "Indeed it was. Be glad she didn't kill me- Then you'd have to explain a dead body to the poor boy in the store."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about him."

"Hah, same."

The rest of the stream passes in relative silence as Japan sits on the pavement to rest. America is bandaging Sov's arm, muttering insults as well as cutesy nicknames as he does so. After around ten or so minutes of mostly nothing, Japan slides her gaze over to her phone, makes a small noise of surprise, hauls herself to her feet, strides over, and ends the stream.]

#countryhumans #countryhuman #countryhumans america #countryhumans japan #countryhumans ussr #countryhumans germany #(but only briefly)#countryhuman america #countryhuman japan #countryhuman ussr #writing #my writing #my stuff #the whole chatfic is on both wattpad and a03 (i have the sam username on both)

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seaalgae · 4 years

Text

Update... 2!!!

Sword again, featuring DREAMS and ADVENTURES and A SMALL AMOUNT OF SOCIOPOLITICAL COMMENTARY i mean what no not really

Starts with HOP an MIA having apparently BONDED with their starters, which Lee APPROVES of. He offers to judge their first battle as Rivals:tm:

It's gonna be tacklespam let's be real

Vs Wooloo

(unlimited tackle works)

Vs Grookey

(We Ember now)

(yes hop i already knew about type advantages)

It's an easy win, and can't *not* be one

And now Hop wants to do the GYM CHALLENGE, proving that he is a JOCK. I do not yet know Mia's alignment but she's probably LESS SPORTY. They go to Route 2 to get POKEDEXES.

It's the earlygame there is not a whole lot I can talk about. But now I can finally SAVE

Also the Wooloo broke through the GATE to MEET ITS DESTINY, so of course we had to save it to keep our share of the plot as it is. Also Hop wants to BE A HERO and Mia IS JUST THERE FOR THE RIDE

(for all the fear the wilds are level 2)

There's An Awoo and we all rush off to check, because of course we are. HOP runs off into the mist like a true horror protag. We follow him. AND THEN WE SPOT A PUPPY AND PET IT. THE END

we pet it with our attacks, but none of its attacks work at all, ever, and the fog keeps happening, and eventually we WIPE and wake up outside the woods. Leon finds us, proving perhaps that he is NOT pants with DIRECTIONS. Yet another lie.

Also he saved the Wooloo, because this is his game and we're just spectating.

Anyway it's time to TALK TO MOM and SET OUT ON AN ADVENTURE

"Remember that Scorbunny will battle to the end for you" mom no

Anyway on route 1 there's a sleeping Wooloo line and I'm 100% not waking them.

AND IT'S CATCH TIME

First catch: Lump (female Blipbug, quirky, level 4)

Anyway the lab is in town and OH MY GOD MAGNOLIA HAS A CORGI

Enter SONIA, the character that 90% of wlw are into, except LEON forgot to drink his daily Respect Women Juice today so he just roasts her. Except she was LEON'S RIVAL and thus can probably kick all sorts of ass on her own. Spoilers: she parallels HOP

The PHONE is forcibly converted into the ROTOMDEX FROM GEN 7. Somehow they've started to MASS PRODUCE ROTOM, probably through BREEDING. Instead of ecological collapse it just means EVERYONE HAS ROTOM, and when they get released they go on to DEVASTATE THE LOCAL ENVIRONMENT. I am forced to speculate that this was the catalyst for Galar banning any and all potentially invasive species, and now the royals have switched over fully to ROTOM REMOVAL. Instead of foxes or something i guess?

my hand hurts so I'm stopping for now byeee

cont'd from last night

Okay so I apparently left off at the lab? And on stepping outside A RANDOM STRANGER gives us a POTION, which is ACTUALLY A BIT SKETCHY. He then tells you to TALK TO EVERYONE, which is some kind of INTROVERT NIGHTMARE, so we will be NOT doing that.

insert POKEMON CENTER TUTORIAL

...insert SKIPPING THE POKEMON CENTER TUTORIAL, because both Mia and Hop are USELESS TEENS, which means they KNOW HOW THE WORLD WORKS ALL TOO WELL. They have DEPRESSION.

Now for the important part: CLOTHES SHOPPING. Mia's look is now that of a LAZY STUDENT, namely, jeans, hoodie, hat

Hop then meets us at the edge of town to discuss the GYM CHALLENGE, which is the ONLY WAY to socially rise in Galar's HELLISH POST-CAPITALIST MONARCHY. He tells you that both of you should get ENDORSEMENTS in order to be rivals, and that means going to ROUTE 2 to be endorsed by PROFESSOR MAGNOLIA

Hop wisely decides to BUILD HIS TEAM, which leads to LEON coming out of nowhere in order to offer a CATCHING TUTORIAL, because he's looking out for his brother under a guise of obfuscating stupidity. I am hereby imagining that the two TEASE ONE ANOTHER about THINGS

Our catch? Stanley (male zigzagoon, careful, level 6)

I fucking love galaran zigzagoon, but now it's grind time

It's also HARDCORE CONTROLLER DRIFT TIME, which I'm interpreting as Mia having an EXTREMELY SHORT ATTENTION SPAN

Also we get our first TRAINER BATTLE partway through; a youngster with a SKWOVET. We fight it with STANLEY until he needs to switch, then KICKS takes over. All in all, a good time.

The same happens with a SECOND TRAINER, who has CHEWTLE, and is dispatched in much the same way.

Third trainer has a blipbug and gets embered. Quite thrilling.

Now we have the FIRST HINTS OF THE PLOT, where LEON is asking MAGNOLIA about DYNAMAX SCIENCE. MAGNOLIA says that her daughter will probably finish her work, which is OMINOUS. She INVITES YOU IN for TEA AND SCIENCE. Leon proves his HIMBO NATURE by relating everything back to BATTLES, and Hop asks Magnolia to consider convincing Leon to endorse them, despite the fact that he's LITERALLY RIGHT THERE. Leon reveals that he'd planned to do that anyway and asks the two to BATTLE to show that they're good enough.

The battle happens at SUNSET, which is RAD.

VS HOP: Stanley vs Wooloo: Leer/tackle -> tackle/growl, tackle/tackle, tackle KO

Stanley vs Grookey (switch to Kicks)/branch poke, ember (burn)/branch poke, ember KO

Kicks vs Rookidee Quick attack/peck, Quick attack KO

Battle WON

Hop handles the win MATURELY, and then LEON gives them both an ENDORSEMENT (though Leon notes that HOP has a habit of getting stuck on the aesthetiques). The two are ready to be RIVALS.

AND THEN a meteor happens and they both get WISHING STARS, which can be made into DYNAMAX BANDS. The timing is FORTUITOUS. SONIA appears, congratulates them, and then makes CURRY, and the party goes to bed, happy, full, and filled with purpose

Thus ends the first arc of this anime.

#pokemon sword nuzlocke #sword nuzlocke tag #chess does nuzlocking

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princiere · 5 years

Note

Sans for the character thing!! 💕

oH NO

it's 2015/2016 again. I'm a skeleton smoocher and coincidentally have the biggest uwu's for sans right now yeehaw

this took forever agdjfhdhf

favorite thing about them

oh my goood can I just say everything?? his humor is so stupid but I love it, his fashion choices are my constant mood, his pranks in the game are the perfect kind of "wtf??" and confusing instead of harmful (half of me thinks he drank the ketchup just to freak out the kid), he thinks his bro is sO COOL,,!

I've had a lot of emotions for the guy lately,,

least favorite thing about them

realistically?? probably the lengths he'll go to be lazy tbh. I highly doubt he helps with chores, and he is definitely the kind of bitch that fake-sleeps so he doesn't have to help w/ anything

favorite line

basically his entire speech in the pacifist run's final corridor

"......but you. you never gained any LOVE. 'course, that doesn't mean you're completely innocent or naive. just that you kept a certain tenderness in your heart. no matter the struggles or hardships you faced...you strived to do the right thing. you refused to hurt anyone. even when you ran away, you did it with a smile. you never gained LOVE, but you gained love. does that make sense? maybe not." ... "well, if i were you, i would have thrown in the towel by now. but you didn't get this far by giving up, did you? that's right. you have something called "determination." so as long as you hold on...so as long as you do what's in your heart...i believe you can do the right thing. alright. we're all counting on you, kid. good luck."

brOTP

...I mean. we've seen how Sans gets when u take his bro away 👀

OTP

I'm self-insert trash, uhh?? take one look at my ao3 and you'll know what the otp is in my heart

nOTP

skelebros, but the "fontcest" version

random headcanon

I got two I desperately need to say

his eyelights change shape depending on his mood. I can hear my heart squeal with delight anytime someone draws his eyelights in the shapes of hearts

he's got a tummy, but that's just bc he's packing a pillow underneath his shirt! just in case of.......emergencies.....

unpopular opinion

he's a disgusting lil gremlin, I struggle to believe he's any taller than 5 ft and not a mess. I can let bara artists slide bc,, sure? but I'm actually kinda weirded out that ppl believe he's tall? and not a goddamn mess??? he's the same height as frisk in-game and most likely has a few stains somewhere on his clothes at any given time and I love him for it hdkfhfjdjf

song I associate with them

you're welcome

favorite picture of them

in-game pic? definitely his genocide route sprite (which I only have in the form of a trans icon hhhhhh) but I think I'll also reblog this with my favorite fanart of him too (and the source bc I'm not a fuckin piece of shit)

#thank u for waiting so patiently......i try my best #also thank u jordan for letting me unleash what's abt 4-5 months of built up adoration #answered #peach-odyssey #undertale #sans

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thefinalcinderella · 6 years

Text

Tsurune Book 1 Chapter 1-Yata no Mori (Part 1)

It’s finally here!!! It took such a long time, but I finally finished it! This chapter, like all the chapters in this book, are very long so I will be splitting them up into two parts. Also my scanner won’t work for some reason so get ready for some insert pictures in very bad quality.

Now you may notice that some kyudo terms have the translation right next to them in brackets. That is because there are way too many terms right in this first chapter, and to prevent people from having to scroll up and down I decided to put them right there. I hope it won’t be too intrusive. I also put numbers next to the Eight Stages of Shooting whenever they come up, since you have to have a good picture of the pose to understand what’s going on (thinking of replacing the gif with the still frames.)

So, anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I should have the second part up soon.

Translation Notes

1. Owl in Japanese is “fukurou”, so it’s like naming an ostrich “Os”.

2. A gi is the white uniform martial artists wear, so a kyudogi is the kyudo version of it.

3. So this word was originally “穹天” (kyuuten) which seems to be a Chinese word rather than Japanese. It apparently means “the vault of heaven” and I’m 50% sure the author chose this word because the 穹 character because it has the 弓 radical in it

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

When he looked up, Minato’s eyes reflected the hazy blue sky.

His graceful body, fitting for a fifteen-year-old, was wrapped in training clothes, and he advanced along the straight mountain path where snow still remained. When he passed under the tunnel of treetops, he could see the three-car train travelling slowly in the distance. The surrounding mountains were sprinkled with yellow-green, the mountain cherry blossoms spreading out here and there.

It was the mountain in springtime. The budding trees were dazzling.

The final point of his running route every morning was the neighborhood park. He washed his face with water from the water fountain in the corner, then lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe it. A long, white scar was briefly exposed on his uncovered left flank.

Because he didn’t wipe himself up properly, water dripped from his bangs. If it were the old him, he wouldn’t have done such a lazy thing. It was an act of sensing that he had forgotten his towel, and because the reason that he must leave was approaching.

A boy in casual clothes, seeming to be taking a walk in the neighborhood, stood next to Minato. His full-rimmed, plastic glasses frame was familiar, and one of the objects that symbolized him as intelligent and calm. One got the impression that he was more mature than Minato, and not just because he had already celebrated his sixteenth birthday.

A smile appeared on his face, like he was making fun of his companion.

“Morning, Minato. Even though it’s spring, it’s still cold in the mornings.”

“…Seiya, good morning.”

It wasn’t that Minato didn’t want to see Seiya. If anything, he was the only person he could call his best friend, and he had known him the longest. However, he did not want to meet him during training if possible.

Seiya, upon realizing that, spoke with an innocent look on his face. “It’s usually my dad’s job, but he was busy this morning, so I took his place.”

“Oh, are you walking Bear?”

If someone only listened to that exchange, they might have gotten frightened. “Bear” was the name of a dog. He was a Bernese mountain dog, a mountain dog that originally came from Switzerland. They were weak to heat, so this area, which had a high altitude and was relatively cool even in Japan, was perfect.

Even though there were those who would take the “Bernie” part of its name and name it “Bunny-chan” like a rabbit, there weren’t a lot of people who would name it “Bear”. Seiya’s naming sense may be in doubt, but a family who allowed him to give that name was also worthy of respect.

Minato also greeted Bear, and Bear waggled his tail. He had long fur with a black, white, and brown luster, and the round, light-brown tufts of fur above his eyes resembled eyebrows. When he was embraced, his transmitted body temperature felt good. Bear licked Minato’s face. He then brought his nose close to his left flank, gesturing for him to show it.

“Hey, Bear, you’re tickling him. That spot’s already fine.”

Having been chided, Bear immediately stopped, and sat next to Minato. Four years ago, he had been a mischievous puppy, but he grew up kind and smart. Just like his owner.

The two people and one dog went to the back of the park, entering the forest there. Bear was a dog who enjoyed being useful to people, and went to the front as though telling them to follow him. There was a wide paved road which could be reached by car, but this way was a shortcut, and on the way, there was a narrow path that one person could barely squeeze past. It was a path made by the denizens of the area coming and going—an animal trail, so to speak.

Seiya grabbed Minato’s arm, who seemed like he was about to faint from the tone of the morning that was so different from usual.

“Are you alright? If you collapse and miss the entrance ceremony in the morning, that’ll be a spectacular high school debut.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, at that time, I will offer to nurse you faithfully in our special hospital room.”

“And I’ll politely turn you down. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

“I’m not going to do anything. Right, Bear?”

Bear made an answer that was unclear as to whether or not it was positive or negative.

Seiya’s house was an orthopedic clinic, and right behind Minato’s house. For Narumiya Minato and Takehaya Seiya, today was their entrance ceremony at the same high school. As this was a small town in the mountains, it wasn’t unusual for their high schools to be the same. But Minato hadn’t known this until just a few days ago. Unlike Minato, who chose the neighborhood public high school for financial reasons, Seiya could have chosen the best school in the prefecture or a challenging private school.

While feeling something muddled, Minato thought about the new life that would be beginning from now on.

The Kazemai High School’s entrance ceremony.

Cherry blossoms that weren’t supposed to bloom yet in this region greeted Minato and the others.

It wasn’t just the plants that were making merry early with the arrival of spring. What lied in wait after the new students finished the ceremony was recruitment for club activities. All of the groups were shouting, including the girls from the cheerleading squad holding colourful bonbons in red and orange, and the well-built boys holding a cheering banner that read, “Passing is love!”

Immediately, there were freshmen who were caught by the soccer club. The glints in their eyes were only things indiscriminately sharp upon their suntanned skins. Next to them, there was an idol-like boy who attracted gazes, frequently waving at the female manager.

Giving a sidelong glance at Seiya, who was looking around with interest, Minato quickly passed through the area. However, suddenly, a large boy placed his arms around their shoulders from behind, and two of them couldn’t move.

What an obnoxious recruitment. Minato gave the attacker an indignant look. Then, before his eyes, he gave a friendly smile. Minato felt something similar to deja-vu.

“Aren’t you Minato? And here’s Seiya! It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to meet you guys here again at high school. This is awesome!”

“Wait, you can’t actually be Ryouhei!? Haven’t you gotten too big? I didn’t recognize you for a moment,” Seiya said, then continued. “Minato hadn’t noticed, but I found your name on the class register.”

“I knew that you were being sworn in as the freshman representative. You’re still as smart as ever, that’s expected. That’s great. And Minato, you’ve gotten cooler and cooler since the last I saw you.”

“Stop talking like you’re an uncle flattering your nephews,” Minato said. Ryouhei had a truly strange expression on his face as he stretched.

“I am? But I was looking at you when I said it.”

Yamanouchi Ryouhei was their childhood friend who transferred schools when they were in fifth grade. His body grew bigger, but he was still a simpleminded child on the inside. When other people said words that were taken as sarcasm, Ryouhei said them with a smile. There were few people who could get seriously angry at a puppy that they had become attached to.

That nostalgic face caused Minato’s tense-looking face to break into a smile. They couldn’t stop recounting their childhood stories, like when they lost their shoes swimming in the river after school, or when they got scolded for sneaking into Seiya’s family’s hospital when it was closed and playing with the athletic tape. They were a gang who spent time together like brothers. There was a strange sense of solidarity.

Although there was lingering excitement between the three of them, a small man approaching them caused them to break off their conversation. He was an acquaintance of Ryouhei’s.

“What’s up, Tomi-sensei?”

“Tomi-sensei?” Minato asked.

“Yeah, he’s my homeroom teacher, Morioka Tomio-sensei.”

Tomi-sensei was an old man teacher. He stood on tiptoes to survey the three of them, moving his face closer with effort.

“I have received a certain incognito order. Expecting that all of you are close, I come to stand for the white-feathered arrows. An incognito order is a mission.”

“Mission!? What is it, what is it??”

While Minato was thinking about how suspicious that was, Ryouhei’s eyes shone with curiosity.

“Ah, actually, this school has a kyudo club, but it has hardly been active recently. It received the order to be rebuilt from the principal. Kyudo tends to be thought of as an individual sport, but when everyone’s breathing doesn’t match perfectly, it won’t go well.”

Minato’s heart beat faster at the word “kyudo”.

“And? And?” Ryouhei said, completely on board. “At the middle school I went to, I chose kyudo as my compulsory martial arts course. My kyudo teacher praised me, saying that I had ‘good muscles’. I thought I’d do it seriously when I went to high school. Plus, I might have been influenced by Minato and Seiya.”

“Are these two experienced in kyudo?”

“They are. Narumiya and Takehaya were in the kyudo club in middle school. Narumiya in particular wanted to do kyudo, and I heard that they took the entrance exams for a private middle school with a kyudo club. He’d been talking about the bow since forever.”

Tomi-sensei smiled broadly.

“There are few junior highs with a kyudo club, so people with kyudo experience are valuable. However, It would seem that I have found three all at once. These old eyes are not mistaken. This mission is nothing but a success. Well then, everyone, shall we head for the kyudojo (place where kyudo is performed)?”

Minato panicked. He was troubled by the conversation continuing on without him.

“Please wait. I don’t plan to join any club. My mother died, so I have to do most of the housework, and I also have to make dinner for my father…I’m sorry.”

The white mark on Minato’s left flank was the scar of the injury he had sustained when he was involved in a traffic accident with his mother, which happened one month after Seiya got Bear. However, four years had passed already. The innocent Bear, time, and the passions that they had devoted themselves into had healed the wounded Minato and others. The whitening scar was the proof of that.

Then, why do you keep running every morning…?

Minato felt like he had heard Seiya’s voice. However, Seiya hadn’t said anything.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, if your situation changes, you can just come by and visit us anytime. How about Takehaya-kun and Yamanouchi-kun over here?”

“I’d certainly like to join the club.”

“Me too, me too!”

Seiya, who was supposed to be right next to him, looked to be far away.

Minato wasn’t going to do club activities. Seiya was joining the kyudo club.

Even though there shouldn’t be any problem, his perturbed heart felt unsatisfied. Seiya turned back to look straight at him.

“I’m going to go ahead to the kyudojo.”

“I’m not doing kyudo anymore.”

“I know you’re carrying around your treasure.”

Minato grabbed his bag in spite of himself. And when he realized he fell for Seiya’s bluff, Minato could only make the meager comeback of simply leaving that spot.

Refusing other invitations from his classmates and girls, Minato returned home alone.

Although he lived only with his father, he never felt very lonely or inconvenient because Seiya and his parents were kind. He told Tomi-sensei that he was busy with household chores, but his father often didn’t take dinner at home, so that was the perfect excuse. When he confirmed that the pouch with the dragonfly pattern was in his bag, he flew out beneath the darkening sky.

He loved riding his bicycle.

The wind was frosty, sweeping away the words that he was saddled with, cooling down that aching heat. After a while, he hit a long slope. While standing to pedal up the hill, a car coming from behind honked its horn. Although he quickly went to the side, the honking was completely unexpected.

After riding around aimlessly without deciding on a destination, when it was soon time to go back home, a small yellow bird flew out before his eyes. It was a grey wagtail that flew before him as he rode. Although both sides of the road were lined with forest, it glided along the surface of the endless paved road.

Before he knew it, Minato was in an unfamiliar place. The yellow bird disappeared, and in its place, an old sign board reading “Yata Shrine” caught his attention. He stopped his bike before the torii gate, and climbed the stone steps.

This forest was called Yata no Mori, where deciduous trees like pin oaks and Mongolian oaks thrived. Minato looked up, and as if trying to test him, the trees swayed, making a rustling sound. In the dim light, the new sprouts shone, looking like hands clasped together and dedicating prayers up to the sky. The red-violet buds of the mountain azaleas were stiff, and wearing light brown caps. From somewhere faraway, a crying sound could be heard.

After passing through the forest, he arrived at Yata Shrine. There was a cherry tree there, dying the ground beneath in pale pink. The shrine was snug in that old way, and there was no sign of people.

It looks like a place where ghosts would come out… When he thought that, he was startled from hearing a sound.

It’s tsurune, I heard a tsurune—.

From somewhere, he heard a high bang sound.

Like bamboo sprouts shooting up from the earth towards the sky overnight, the sound was carefree and crisp. He couldn’t believe that it was possible to create that metallic-sounding timbre with a bow. It is said that tsurune was the sound made when the bowstring hit the bow after firing an arrow; and the sound that occurred when the arrow left the loosened bowstring and tension returned to the original form of the string, was also considered tsurune.

It overlapped with his old memories. He wondered if it was the same archer that he saw with his mother when he was little, pulling back the bow.

The light was on in the building next to the front shrine.

There was a built-in mailbox at the entrance of the traditional Japanese house, where a signboard hung with the words “Yata no Mori Kyudojo” on it. It was considerably aged, and the wood was corroded and covered in moss. Suppressing his fast-beating heart, he went past the entryway, heading for the right side of the building.

He didn’t think that there would be someone drawing a bow in the forest in the evening. Maybe it really was a ghost. No, it didn’t matter if it was a ghost.

Please don’t disappear.

Don’t disappear until I get there.

While praying that silently in his mind, he passed through the trees, and went around to a corner where outdoor viewing was possible. When he peeked forward through the bamboo fence that acted as a partition, he saw the spacious shajo (building where the archers shoot from) illuminated by fluorescent lamps.

There was a lone young man there, clad in a white kyudogi (2) and hakama.

As expected, it was a different person from the archer he saw back then. The mysterious figure looked like he was in his twenties, and his shoulder-length hair was tied back.

The man nocked an arrow to his bow, then looked to check for any problems with the string or the arrow. He took the string with his right hand, and held the bow with his left. Facing the target, he lifted the bow and arrow with both hands. His stance—like a column of smoke loosely rising up to the sky on a windless day—was textbook perfect.

He pulled back half the length of the arrow and stopped briefly, then pulled it even further back from there. This was the daisan stage (midway point), of the hikiwake. In everyday language, this would be called “drawing back the bow,” but the Japanese yumi was a bow which was lifted up and pushed open equally on both sides.

The climax was called kai. The kai was the term for drawing a bow all the way back to the length that was most suitable for the archer. It was the moment when bow and archer became one, for a long time until the arrow was released. It was the very moment when bow and archer met. In Minato’s eyes, that man was as elegant as an actor performing in a program that was a marvel… As his skin got chills, the arrow was breathed in by the target.

It hit the target right in the center. And what’s more, that wasn’t the only shot. All five of the arrows he had shot before had pierced the target. After that, he finished collecting the arrows and shot six arrows again, all of them hitting the center.

Twelve hits.

If this was a competition, he had won. No, more than just winning, his shots were beautiful. The man placed his bow aside, got into seiza, and took off his yugake, the glove used in kyudo.

When he saw the man going towards the target to collect the arrows again, Minato heaved a big sigh. He rubbed his sweaty palm against his jacket. Wondering whether he should try to call out, he suddenly heard a “Gyaah!” sound above his head, and his body spontaneously shivered.

“…Was that an owl? Don’t get so scared.”

“What are you doing?”

It was a person’s voice.

The man from earlier was standing right in front of him when he had looked back at the strange phenomenon. He had clear eyes, a high nose bridge, a tall stature, and was blessed with a well-balanced body. But he approached me without making a sound, so who the heck is he?

The man wrapped the indigo-dyed hand towel he carried around his left arm, and held it up towards the trees. “Fuu,” he called out, and something with large, spread-out wings flew down, stopping on the man’s arm.

Its flapping created a wind.

Glancing sideways at Minato, who was standing stock-still, the man addressed the being with a heart-shaped face.

“Fuu, you were the one who was more surprised. Who knew there was a person over here.”

“…Excuse me. Um, could ‘Fuu’ be the name of that owl?”

“Yes, it’s a good name, isn’t it? (1) A long time ago, it was injured and I took care of it, and so I gave it that name back then. I had thought about it carefully. Oh, and I did have permission to look after it.”

Is it my imagination, or does that name seem like it was incredibly easy to come up with? It’s better than naming a dog “Bear” at least.

The owls of the true owl family were as big as the falcons used in falconry. Fuu play-bited at the man’s long fingers. When he caressed his mottled wings, it comfortably closed its large eyes.

“It’s really attached to you.”

“It’s more like it got used to me rather than getting attached. It thinks that when I call it, it’ll be able to get food. Today, I called it even though I don’t have any. Sorry, Fuu.”

“Food?”

“Pink mice. Mice that were skinned.”

“I see…”

“Do you want to try touching it? But you are forbidden from making loud sounds. Owls have good ears.”

Doing as he was told, Minato reached out fearfully. When he stroked the feathers on its head, Fuu suddenly shrunk its body, looking like it was withdrawing itself.

“It’s kind of fluffy.”

“Owls can fly noiselessly thanks to their soft feathers. But leaving that aside, you’re bleeding from the back of your left hand.”

“What?”

When he looked, sure enough, blood was welling up. Maybe a branch or something cut him.

“Come with me to get some medicine for that.”

“No, um, I…”

“No way, are you suspicious of me? I’m not going to charge you extra for the medicine, so don’t worry.”

The man narrowed his eyes and grinned.

He followed the man, who seemed like he ruled over the shajo, to there. The judge’s area was at the side of the shajo, with tatami flooring spreading as wide as twelve tatami mats, and the floor one level higher. It was equivalent to the kamiza (higher position) so the household shrine and the national flag were enshrined there. Passing through the judge’s area to the back-right corner, they arrived at the waiting room of the dojo.

The man placed Fuu on Minato’s left shoulder. It was lighter than he had expected, and along with a pleasant weight, Fuu gripped his shoulder tightly. Since its talons weren’t clipped, he’d probably get holes in his clothes. While he was focused on Fuu, the man opened the accessory drawer.

“So, where’s the medicine…ah.”

An unpleasant bang sound rang out, and the contents of the entire drawer flew out. This caused Fuu to tremble with a jump. The man had been trying to retrieve the medicine in the back of the drawer, and pulled it out.

“Oh no, I did it again.”

He said he did it again, so does that mean he pulls open that drawer and cause stuff to fly out a lot?

“Um, are you okay?”

“Yeah. This is because it’s sturdy, unlike the poorly built stuff made nowadays. Oh, there it is.”

The man found a worn-out tube from among the scattered items, and held it out to Minato. He doubted the efficacy of the ointment, which was considerably aged.

While rubbing on the medicine, the exhausted fluorescent lamp flickered. Minato and Fuu looked up at the ceiling, which the man noticed.

“Sorry, your eyes must be pretty irritated. I have a replacement tube but it’s quite a bother. Someone would change it eventually.”

“…I’ll do it.”

Returning Fuu from his shoulder to the man, he took the new fluorescent tube and got out the stepladder in the corner of the room. It was also an antique.

The man spoke in an easy-going way, “Thanks. I always neglect it until it goes out.”

“I think your entire house should have LED lighting installed, so you won’t have to replace it so much, sir”

“Indeed. You’re pretty smart.”

Even though he meant for it to sound sarcastic, it didn’t seem to have gone through at all.

The man went to the edge of the shajo, and shook his arm towards the outdoors. Fuu disappeared into the nighttime forest. After seeing it off, he took out something from his bag.

“Having a drink after work is the best. Here’s a thank-you gift. Go ahead and take it.”

“No thank you. The law states that the drinking age is twenty years old, and if I drink alcohol, my brain will shrink.”

“…You are amazing. I want to compliment you on how honest you are, but just come and take a better look.”

The man was holding a can of coffee with a picture of a snowy mountain on it.

When he finished drinking, he put the can aside and headed for the targets again. He repeated the entire process of shooting the arrows on hand and retrieving them, all over again.

Still holding his can, Minato watched his beautiful movements. He never paid heed to Minato’s watching, nor told him to go home. Before he knew it, the pain of his wound faded away.

He asked him a question when he saw him jotting something down in a notebook.

“How many targets did you hit?”

“I’m not keeping track of how many I hit or miss. Just the number of arrows.”

“How many did you shoot as of now?”

“Eighty.”

“Eighty times? Do you always shoot that much?”

“Yep. I’m shooting a hundred arrows every day, and aiming for a total of ten-thousand arrows. Today’s the seventy-ninth day.”

“What’s your goal?”

“Nothing in particular. Just a whim, so to speak.”

The man narrowed his eyes and smiled his crescent moon-smile again.

A tsurune that glowed against the deep blue heavens (3).

As he placed his feet on the pedals of his bike, the moon was shining above his head.

Previous | Next

#tsurune #tsurune translation

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stupidpianist · 6 years

Text

12 november 2018

13:22: Sitting in music library right now, trying to “brainstorm,” trying to “keep things fresh,” or something. Nearing 50,000 words on this project, and feeling like I need to do something with it in order to keep it from “going stale,” not on the level of y’all the readers, but even for, like, myself, doing this, I think. Not that I’m having a bad time doing this, or that I’m starting to get bored with it, or anything, the only reason I didn’t update the liveblog for the past three days were personal matters that kept me occupied for most of each day, so, like, it was practicality, not lack of interest that “kept me at bay.” At the same time I never like just continuing to do something the same way just because it’s what you used to do, and I’m having, like, an itching feeling about the liveblog, like, “gotta do something new with it, gotta ‘switch it up’ a bit.” It’s naturally evolved, I know, in terms of the structure and the tone and the prose since first starting, which is good, I like the natural progression of it, but I want to play with it a bit, like, push the form “to its limits,” or something. I feel silly writing that, hahahah.

Really dislike days when I “don’t update” the liveblog, even if it’s for valid reasons, still feels like I need to have some kind of “plan of action” in case that happens. Consistency seems like a prerequisite, or else liveblogging as a form loses meaning/power/effectiveness?? Crap now I’m going off on a liveblog theory tangent, theorizing, I’m theorizing, folks, like a big giant moron. Let me try to parse this out, let me try to, uh, “illustrate in text” where I think I can start bending the form:

-Have been doing timestamps to-the-minute as a way of structuring the blog, with, sometimes, “mega updates” that are more cohesive paragraphs, foregoing timestamps, when I’ve been lazy/unable to jot time down on phone note, or when unable to get to a computer to update blog for long periods

-Enjoy this notion of the timestamp, gives the whole thing a “real” feeling to it, knowing, exactly, what the person is doing, and when, but need to find a way to make it more precise??

-Maybe make a private Twitter or Mastodon account and post what I’m doing, that way Twitter/Mastodon can automatically log the timestamp and I don’t have to keep adding it into my phone’s note document, and I can, “with ease,” log things with a more exact level of detail?

-This doesn’t really change the form, or anything, of what I’m doing, though, want to incorporate something “new and exciting” so I’m not just going off of what I’ve grown comfortable with, need to keep “pushing myself”

-Okay think, George, think, what would be challenging, now that you’re used to logging each minute of being awake, what would make it harder, like, leveling up, the next stage in the game, the next boss hehe

Oh wait I think I know, think I have something for you, let me “serve you up” with this, let me “butter your bread,” guys. Boy George has got something, you remember MySpace, when you could do things like “listening to” and put music?? Okay so here’s my idea, I think it’ll be mutually fun to read and to write, I’m gonna write a paragraph or so about the music album/song/thing that I’m most listening to during each day, since this usually changes by day, and also because I’m listening to music for most of the time that I’m conscious. Actually, wait, wait, let’s calculate, let’s do some calculations:

-awake for, like, 16 hours each day? -subtract ~2 hours lectures per day -subtract ~4-5 hours piano practice per day ~subtract any time i’m with people i like, unsure what this metric is, heavily depends on day

Okay for like 9/16 of the hours that I’m conscious I’m going to be listening to music, and I have, like, a LOT to say about music, like obnoxiously so. So this is good, I can include an insertion about the day’s “soundtrack,” OH OH THAT’S GREAT okay that’s what I’m going to call it, I’m going to call this section “Soundtrack of the Day” hahaha, okay, nice, nice. Will do this section later today, needs to be “late enough in the day” where I really know what the soundtrack that fits my mood of the day is. That way the Soundtrack of the Day can give insight into how I’m doing, and it can also just be fun to write about music in itself. Also going to do that timestamp thing with a private Mastodon/Twitter account that only I can access so that it’s a lot easier to quickly input what I’m doing and have it automatically timestamped, been thinking about doing this for weeks now but never “implemented” it.

Okay, okay, there’s the Liveblog 2.0 update, we are now on phase two of liveblog, folks, here are the “patch notes”:

-fixed timestamp logging system, switching from google keep to mastodon

-added “soundtrack of the day” section, should provide further insight into each day’s liveblog, should also be fun to read from a musically critical perspective

-additional resources added towards maintaining liveblog, even minimally, on days when time constraints make longer updating practically impossible; new timestamp logging system should aid in this, as i can just mirror all the tweets/toots onto liveblog without elaboration, but at least they’ll be there

Sick it’s 13:44 now, I’m going to head up to the practice rooms and “see what I can do” for a bit. Oh crap, I almost forgot, hahaahah, here’s what I did today: -woke at 11h right before needing to run out of door for piano pedagogy class -hurriedly brushed, didn’t do hair, threw on clothes, ran out door -stopped for organic low-sugar energy drink, 100mg caffeine, en route to campus -went to class -went to tim hortons, got jelly donut, large coffee with one milk -brought tim hortons to music library

Fairly straightforward day so far, I’m still not sure, exactly, where my mood is, but I’m feeling well re: liveblog 2.0 changes. Don’t know if there are enough changes to constitute marking this as, like, a completely new version, instead of just a point release, but whatever I’m not about to fricken start labeling liveblog updates/“patches,” like, 1.2 or 1.02, just sticking with whole numbers lmao.

Also don’t have too much of a plan today, my obligations today are “scarce,” there are not many of them, no, not many at all, nope. Will practice and “see where my heart leads me,” I think, yeah. Feeling very “neutral” today, feeling like a murky, amorphous, grey sac.

#liveblog #blog #writing

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maiji · 6 years

Photo

Process and wip images for A House That Holds Long Limbs (Part 2)

See Part 1 process and wip documentation

Read the pages for part 2 here (full complete version will be linked from YYH North Bound master post)

As a story progresses, I tend to become more comfortable with jumping ahead and around in my so-called process. This is mainly because the idea of getting deeper into the action is exciting and I want to get to drawing the pages as quickly as possible. The downside is that it usually results in a lot of “oops” and rework on what was supposed to be a final page.

Here you’ll see that script/pagination/thumbnailing and final pages are all starting to drift even more than in Part 1.

The (last version of the) script

Earlier versions were even more point form and incoherent with typos. But, it only needs to capture enough that I can recognize key actions, points of dialogue, the mood, things to draw in the panels, etc. A few specific items to point out:

“[new part 2]”: The script originally had no exposition on rokurokubi - it went straight to Hokushin telling Raizen he was leaving. It occurred to me later, after I’d started thumbnailing, that inserting a few pages of storytelling narrative right here would help to further solidify the kaidan (traditional Japanese ghost story) effect and mood. More importantly, it creates a baseline reference for what the reader will know about rokurokubi for the purposes of this story. I was lucky that Part 1 and Part 2 were cut neatly enough that this wouldn’t be jarring.

I’m still not entirely happy with the text for this section, mainly the “features of note” about rokurokubi. Not just the fact that it’s oversimplification and slight adaptation of actual Japanese folklore - which can’t be avoided unless I want to write a historical essay here. I’m mainly not super keen on how each of the three items has been phrased. It’d be nice to make the three points more parallel in terms of length, but I couldn’t seem to edit, increase the number of points (by splitting them up), or reorder it effectively without negatively impacting other aspects of pacing and information reveal. More points would draw out the pages longer than I wanted, and some points were clearly sub to other points. The final here is the “good enough” version. JUST GET IT DONE ALREADY SO THAT IT CAN GO OUT INTO THE WORLD.

Sooo many word choice changes. The biggest one, done at the last second, was “They are almost always female” to “They are rarely male”. Other phrasings I debated - “They are very rarely male”, “They are almost never male”, etc. Lemme tell ya, it’s easy to get lost in the weeds… Anyways, the main reason for this was because after I drew it and ran the text through my head, the originally-intended juxtaposition of Hokushin on this page with the word “female” felt too subtle. I felt it would create a brief moment of cognitive dissonance that didn’t serve the flow of the story, so I changed it to create emphasis on the same gender instead with the rationale that it will flow more smoothly and allow the reader to focus their attention on the fact “males are very rare” more than the mental hiccup of processing the juxtaposition. DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE?? It made sense in my head.

Anyhow, I’m sure there are people who will disagree with many of the decisions I’ve made, but at least you can see what I was trying to do.

Thumbnails

As mentioned, these thumbnails were done BEFORE I decided to insert the exposition at the beginning.

The first two rows on the left hand page are actually the same set of pages - you can see little arrows pointing down or to the right whenever I’m dissatisfied with a thumbnail and attempt to redraw it.

WIPs

I really like how Hokushin turned out in the last panel here; I like the pencils more than the final inked version. It’s also another example of changing text up to the last second. In case it’s hard to make out, it says (along with what happened to them in the final):

First thought bubble: Ugh, whatever… (moved to the next page, seemed to work better as the end exclamation for this sequence of thoughts before he turns his attention to something else)

Over Hokushin’s head: Aaaargh (moved into the thought bubble)

Second thought bubble: He’s not my responsibility anyways! (no change)

First arrow: *already feeling bad* (no change)

Second arrow: *too responsible* (dropped, since a previous panel already said “too responsible”. Too redundant)

Next to Hokushin: All he did was tie me up in a tree (no change)

The above panel “And at night...” was a thrilling and scary thing for me lmao. I don’t usually tackle large patches/fills of black, since many of my comics are scribbly in style (pencils, hatching) or colour. I’m too lazy for screentones, traditional or digital. It’ll be interesting as parts of the story coming up will involve poorly lit/dim/dark spaces. I’ve been reviewing how other artists handle it, particularly those with styles driven by pure-ink or minimalist type approaches. Two immediate examples from Yu Yu Hakusho that I’ve been going back to are the dark room fights during Genkai’s successor trials (I’ve taken a similar approach here), and the haunted bedroom case in volume 19. Hardcore cross-hatching seems like a likely route, but that freaks me out when I have to do it over faces. I’d like to minimize or avoid screentoning out of principle, but I still want to create a clear mood, so we’ll see how it goes...

This was my view while inking this page - holding the book in one hand while inking Hokushin with the other. Using the more freehand, sketchy inking style for this comic was so helpful in terms of reducing my inking anxiety and allowing me to work faster.

It’s always great when you can find a reference for period armor (because I find armor very difficult) that is so close to the pose you’re already drawing. There are some small differences - for example, Hokushin’s head is turned more to the right; his left arm is turned and raised more as he’s pulling the sword upwards. But it’s close enough.

Also, spotlight on a few of the books I’ve referenced over the course of working on North Bound in general and this part specifically.

Clockwise from top left:

日本服飾史女性編 and 男性編 (History of clothing/costume in Japan female and male editions). This marvelous set of books highlights Japanese fashion throughout history. I’ve actually been referencing these photos for a long time before I ever picked up these books - you can see them at the Costume Museum’s website here, alongside helpful line drawings and translations of some of the details. But the books allow me to see a lot more detail.

Hokusai manga vol 1 (this book is published as part of a set of 3). Sketches by Hokusai. This one focuses on “The life and manners of the day” and includes drawings of youkai, including rokurokubi, as well. You can check out the drawings online at places like The Pulverer Collection Online Catalogue.

Action references!! Real Action Pose Collection 02 (focuses on sword fights) and my favourite Samurai & Ninja Action Scene Collection. Not used as much in Long Limbs, but was helpful in some of the other chapters. The time frame is really much later than what I need for ideal clothing references, but it’s helpful for things like movement.

Kekkaishi volume 32. SPOILER a key flashback takes place about 500 years ago, which is actually a few centuries off give or take from but at least it’s closer than the Edo period. I’ve been looking at it for houses, some clothing.

Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix - Civil War parts 1 and 2. I reference this so much while working on North Bound in general. It has scenes with peasants and commoners and some appropriate street and interior environments, not just stuff focused on the aristocracy or warrior classes. Just have to remember that they flipped all the artwork in the English version lol

Bunch of Yu Yu Hakusho manga and anime references from the end of the series, mostly for Raizen, the kudakusushi and just to check against things he or Hokushin said. The actual clothing and environments are not helpful at all lol

Last minute edits

After I posted, I discovered a few mistakes (of course). I used to freak out a lot and drop everything to fix it. Now I just sigh and laugh (and still freak out a little bit, depending on the mistake) and then decide what’s important enough to fix and what is like, “Oh well, whatever, move on with my life”.

I feel that seeing other artists share their frustrations and mistakes helps a lot of people feel better about it when they realize IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME TO EVERYONE (including professionals. There are errors like this in professionally published series, like Yu Yu Hakusho, too). YOU’RE NOT ALONE.

So, these ones bugged me enough that I quickly redrew them on the computer.

#yu yu hakusho #comics #fanart #hokushin #process #wip #art supplies #sketches #art by Maiji/Mary Huang #yyh north bound #raizen

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lesmotsincompris · 7 years

Text

Thoughts on GoT S07E04

We’ve hit the halfway mark!

Do you know that feeling when someone tells you a joke and you know it’s supposed to be funny and you know what about is meant to make you laugh, but it just doesn’t work for you and you don’t laugh at all? That’s how I feel about GoT’s big moments, about it’s ‘epicness’ and ‘badassery’.

In this episode, most of the scenes were either “of all the possible book points, are they gonna bring THAT and THIS WAY?” or “why is this scene happening?”. I was surprisingly indifferent too, considering the butchery of long-time favorite characters.

But more under the cut.

Winterhell

Look, I love the Starks. I know it’s cliche, but Jon, Arya, and Sansa are my three favorite characters in all of A Song of Ice and Fire. That’s no small feat. I love all the Starks, and the direwolves, and the people of Winterfell, and the little bits we learn of Northern culture and memory.

So you can imagine I’m angry at the show.

It’s been a while since the Stark siblings stopped being the same characters as their book counterparts, but at this point they’re not even interesting characters in their own right. D&D simply don’t care say about the Starks or what they represent, though I can imagine they love these foul show creations they put in their place.

Out of all possible book points, they decided to bring back Bran’s assassination attempt. In the books, Joffrey was responsible for it, but I feel in the show they’re gonna pin the whole thing on Littlefinger. How? He wasn’t even in Winterfell, he wasn’t even aware that Bran was comatose.

“That very question is what started the War of The Five Kings,” says Littlefinger. That means “I know we’re bringing this back far too late, so here’s some backsposition for you to remember what we’re talking about.” I see what they want with this: they want to blame Littlefinger for the WOT5K so that we feel a lot of Dramatic Satisfaction™ when Arya enacts her revengey revengeful revenge on him.

Other than that, Littlefinger is there mostly to lust after Sansa, because that’s not creepy at all. There’s no reason he has to follow her around and I can’t see why she doesn’t give him something else to do.

Oh, and they brought back the ‘chaos is the ladder’ speech, because D&D are onanists.

I have this pet theory that Isaac Hempstead-Wright accidentally did something to piss off D&D, because they butchered his character years ago and now are even preventing him from acting. “You died in that cave” is a retcon, because if I recall correctly Bran wasn’t acting like a robot last season.

Now that a wheelchair replaced 90% of Meera’s role in the story, she can quietly melisandre away. Aren’t D&D classy and subtle in how they get rid of characters they no longer want to write?

The guards of Winterfell are mean to Arya, because people in Westeros are mean to everyone in every possible occasion. Why was this scene here? Only so that we could see what a great ninja Arya has become, after being beaten with a stick for two seasons?

I like the concept of Arya and Sansa meeting in the crypts, but once again we only have one Stark sibling acting per scene.

“I wish I had” “Me too”. FUCK YOU, SHOW. FUCK YOU, D&D. I CURSE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN. I CURSE EVERY IRRESPONSIBLE FRIEND, TEACHER, OR TV CRITIC THAT MADE YOU THINK YOU COULD PUT TWO WORDS TOGETHER SUCCESSFULLY. I CURSE THAT HEINOUS FUCKERY YOU CALL A WRITING. I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FLAMING MOUNTAIN OF POOP.

Stark sisters bonding over murder. Great. You know, the pattern of gleeful murder in this show is deeply disturbing. All female characters actively enjoy murdering: Arya, Sansa, Ellaria, Cersei, Daenerys, Brienne, Yara... The same doesn’t happen with male characters, and even the likes of Sandor or Bronn don’t get high on carnage. The only male characters who truly enjoy a good butchery are villains like Ramsay, Euron, or the Mountain. I’ll just leave this information here for you to think about it.

Overall their meeting looked very stiff; I know Sansa and Arya weren’t the best of friends, but there’s something rigid in their acting and dialogue that made the moment bland for me. And we already know it doesn’t take much for me to appreciate a Stark meeting.

There’s a difference between exploring the consequences of Sansa’s rape and inserting little nods to it that mean nothing but “hey, remember that time we made everyone angry by raping Sansa Stark?”. I see a lot of the latter, not much of the former.

A few weeks ago conspiracy theorists were going crazy over Sansa’s hair being styled like Cersei’s. Where are they now that Sansa is using Daenerys’ weird-braid-circle style in her hair? Can we just stop with the crack theories?

Brienne admits she did next to nothing to reunite the Stark siblings. Poor book!Brienne, the one true knight of Westeros, your kindness and hope had no chance and no choice in D&D’s grimfest. At least show!Brienne was nice to Pod for the first time in ages. Character development!

That didn’t last long, though, and in her next scene she shoved him aside because she found a more important character to fight. Fighting is all Brienne does in the show.

This fighting scene with Arya was as lazy as it was fanservice-y. Brienne defeated the Hound, but now Arya’s smirking at her and displaying her ninja skills. Does that mean Arya could defeat the Hound? Please, D&D, don’t answer that.

What was the point of this scene? What did it accomplish other than pure fanservice? Why were we seeing Sansa and fuckin’ Littlefinger’s reactions to this?

Every little bit of Winterfell was a mess. Fuck the show.

Dragonstone

Jon took Dany to the Westerosi equivalent of Lascaux, carved in ancient times when people only had enough blue ink for the White Walkers’ eyes and nothing more.

It would be really lazy if some carvings in a cave were all it took to convince Dany of the White Walker threat, so I’m glad they didn’t follow that route. But then I must ask: why was this scene here? Did it tell us anything new?

Again Dany comes across as this entitled brat that makes it all about her, her, her. I genuinely cackled when she said “I will fight for you, I will fight for the North… when you bend the knee”. She tells Jon to stop being so proud, but all this knee talk makes her look self-centered. Again we get a reasonable man and an unreasonable woman. I’m not angry at Dany, I’m angry at the two idiots that write her.

Good thing that Dany blamed Tyrion for the loss of her armies, but I wish the narrative could recognize that his plan was stupid even before Cersei used a cheat code.

Dany asks Jon for advice, because when a woman loses the man that tells her what to do she must find another man to tell her what to do. It doesn’t matter that she barely knows him, gods forbid Dany thinking on her own. But hey, show!Jon is just as incompetent as show!Dany or show!Tyrion, so maybe they can be incompetent together.

Davos became a character that makes boob jokes, stans Jon, and flirts with Missandei. That’s the extension of his arc or inner conflicts. Oh poor Davos.

Alfie Allen is too good for this.

King’s Landing

THE GOLDEN COMPANY, OH MY FUCKING LORD. Out of all possible book points… Also filed under: cutting Aegon is hurting the story in more ways than expected.

Somewhere over the Reach

That part reminded me a lot of Skyrim, from the gold ingots to the way the dragons were animated. During the battle I couldn’t help but imagine the Dovahkiin theme song playing.

I forgot that show!Bronn was a thing. Lucky me.

Out of all possible reasons to turn Jaime against Cersei, why is fuckin’ Olenna Tyrell one of them? Jaime seems more affected by Olenna’s words than by Cersei blowing up the sept.

Come on, show, Jaime killed the king he swore to protect because the guy threatened to do what Cersei did last season. The septsplosion should have been Jaime’s worst nightmare coming true, the perfect reason to finally break up with his sister-lover. If that’s not enough to at least give him conflicted feelings, nothing should ever be enough to separate Jaime and Cersei. Ever. They’re the skeletons in Lost now, together until the end.

Forget conflict, we have a few armies to teleport.

A few episodes ago I assumed the Dothraki went to Casterly Rock with the Unsullied, but they didn’t. But what were they supposed to be doing, then? Dany didn’t plan to attack the Lannister army until very recently, what were her original plans for the Dothraki? Just hanging out in Dragonstone?

Is it me or even the Dothraki ‘battle cry’ sounds racist?

The battle scene was too orange, but at least I could actually see things. The CGI of Dany in Drogon’s back was beyond terrible, but Drogon itself looked good. It better look good, four direwolves had to die for that.

That was it for the scorpion? I mean, nobody actually thought it would kill a dragon, but this was beyond anticlimactic. Why bother inserting this at all?

Tyrion has inner life? What show am I watching? Peter Dinklage does a great job conveying Tyrion’s feelings at the sight of the Lannister army being decimated. Too bad he doesn’t look nearly as affected when his queen Dany falls out of her dragon.

Seriously, what were the stakes for this battle? Did anyone thought Dany, Tyrion, or even Jaime could die? In the best case scenario, D&D would be burning their budget (literally) to cause Bronn or Dickon Tarly’s death.

Hey, don’t look at me like that; Dickon Tarly has more personality than most of the cast at this point.

Extra notes

Can I admit that I nearly hissed at D&D’s names when I saw them in the opening credits?

See you next week for the later half of this mess.

#got criticism #anti got #antigot #personal: watching things

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