#which i what i did for this drawing. i just like to minimize how many sketch passes i do (again bc i am impatient and lazy lol) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamayan · 5 months

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Hii can I request Gyomei x prostitute fem reader nsfw.....plsss

Gyomei Himejima x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Darker Themes • Attempted murder (of reader) • Fem! Reader • prostitute reader • Fluff/Comfort • Size kink • Breeding kink • Sub/switch! Reader • Edging/Denial • Overstimulation • Oral (F)

“Namu Amida Butsu. Pitiful creature.” He doesn’t need vision to understand what was going on in the lively square of the red district tonight.

Normally a bubble of carnal desires and pleasure, many forgot the festering underbelly of this part of the city. He’s on a mission, needs to focus and do his job, but something keeps stopping him.

Possibly the kakushi by his side crying softly, pitying the poor soul on a trial meant to convict whether the offending party is guilty or not. How can an upright samurai be in the wrong in any way? It must be the fault of the lowly whore which should have known her place. Such disgusting beliefs made his gut churn, but he’s aware there is little one can do in this situation.

He needs to leave, walk away, and kill the demon living just on the outskirts of this district.

So why won’t his feet move?

“This bitch is getting what she deserves, and let her serve as a warning to all the workers in the district!”

“Oh no, is he going to decapitate her?!” The kakushi beside him gasps in horror, drawing his focus away from his chants to regain his will power and instead breaking his concentration as he focuses on the slurred drunk words of a man. The crowd is thickening, attention drawn to the spectacle but most of all, the promise of blood shed. “Gyomei-sama…” it would appear the kakushi wishes him to intervene.

He can’t. He’s not supposed to anyway. He knows nothing of the woman’s crimes nor any clear indication on how to pass judgement.

“For trying to run from the great Habuyoshi who mearly admired the beauty! For daring to raise these weak fists at the great Habuyoshi! For biting the dick of the great Habuyoshi! I am putting this filthy dog down!” The crowd was cheering, jeering him on, even begging he kill her after violating her for the crowd to watch, or wanting to do it themselves. Gyomei had heard the red light district was filled with glistening gold and red, and it enrages his heart to think such an auspicious color is tied to such a festering diseased place. No one won here. Ever.

Before the kakushi could move, he’d already made his presence known, easily knocking the samurai unconscious.

The crowd stared in awe and fear of the enormous man wielding only prayer beads, defeating the well known samurai of the area so easily with only a single blow.

“Who owns this prostitute?”

None speak up for a moment, tension thick in the air as a savior appears for a once thought dead woman.

“M-me…” an elderly woman far past her prime shakily steps out, her guilty and shifty expression not seen by the man looking at nothing, but her nervous energy radiated off in waves for all to feel.

“I’ll buy her.”

“Gyomei-sama?!”

“Huh—?”

You awoke with minimal pain.

The jarring events of the night prior swirling in your mind and dumbfounding you because what was that?

You nearly died because a strange man grabbed you off the street while you were running an errand and tried to rape you in an alley way. Of course you fought back, but it seems that’s a crime if the perpetrator is stronger than you.

Tears fell despite your anger. You were no longer a prostitute, your freedom seemingly bought out of kindness but you knew not to trust anything given freely. There’s always a price, and your life thus far had taught you to be witty and at least somewhat charming. Though it hardly did much for you last night when the crowd roared for your execution like your life meant so little.

Your new owner is more terrifying than your previous house mother. At least she’d been open about her greedy vile mindset, but this man is nothing short of an enigma. Why did he save you? What is the purpose? What should you do now? It left you riddled with anxiety as you sat in a bed more comfortable than you could ever remember sleeping in, the blankets and pillows too of better quality than the red light district ever provided even for the top courtesans. You’d been given plain but high quality clothing as well, allowed to bathe alone, and then fed a vegetarian meal so delicious you wondered if the Buddhist monks had it much better than you gave them credit for.

Now you slept, in a room all to yourself, with no idea of what was to come next.

Did he want you as a wife? That didn’t seem right though. He didn’t appear the romantic type, and his size alone mildly frightened you despite his soft demeanor and speech. Were you to act as a servant? Did he wish to sell you to another area and call it good karma, leaving the matter as that? It ate away until you could no longer stand it, rising from the bed you longed to stay in forever, and slipping out of your room to explore the estate.

It’s shockingly empty.

Not a soul in sight as you explored, stealing bread from the kitchen as you walked, pondering the possibility of ghost servants. You felt silly and dismissed it, but the eerie silence was begining to get to you. You turned and headed for an opening, finally finding a serene courtyard. You were awestruck by the landscape, attention quickly caught as you spot a small pond with a bridge.

Hope bloomed and then flourished as you spotted several fat pretty koi swimming about, different colored patterns moving around and hypnotizing you.

“Ssshhwink!” You jolted in shock at the loud sound of a blade being struck, eyes honing in on the source as you see a training ground of sort in the distance.

Shock was the least of your current emotions as you watched the enormous man, your supposed savior for now, swing around an axe and spiked flail attached to a very long chain. Surrounding him were multiple dummies, made from steel, as if you weren’t already shocked silly. For someone so large, he was graceful and fast, skilled in each tiny movement and it nearly made you think of a dance you’d seen long ago at a festival when you were a child.

He’s no one ordinary. That’s clear enough, and he’s not a samurai it seemed either.

He could kill you quicker than that man before and he could’ve killed that man too but chose not to. Your heart trembled, because you knew those that hesitated left empty handed, and if his goal was merely to rescue and abandon you then you’d find yourself back to being sold off or worse.

You needed him to keep you, no matter how his appearance made your knees weak.

“Are you hungry?”

One week. You’d been in his estate one week and this was the first conversation you’d had with him since that night he saved you.

“Namu Amida Butsu. Thank you.” He accepts the lunch you prepared, as you learned fast that once he’d brought you into his estate, he’d been abandoned by his cooks. His servants who cleaned or kept things in order were incredibly well trained and avoided you similarly. You’d been cooking his meals and leaving them outside his room in the morning, and he’d usually be gone for most of the day until very late evening where you’d leave his dinner outside his small study or prayer room.

This was your first chance to initiate contact with him, and it made you swallow your nerves as you came up eye level with his abdomen. He accepts the tray, sitting at the small table in the open courtyard. He repeats his chants while you observe him up close for a moment.

He is handsome in a rugged way. His scars surprisingly only adding character. His thin lips and long lashes would’ve made many woman jealous as well.

“This is very delicious. You’re a good cook.” You startle lightly from your day dream as you stare at him with wide eyes, his face still tilted down as he eats.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He hadn’t expected to find your company so pleasant.

Your presence was easy, comfortable and enjoyable after you warmed up more, chattering away similarly to the love Hashira at times. It made a strange sort of fondness form in his chest as he listens to your opinion on cherry blossom season, and why mochi is best served cold.

He finds himself rushing now after missions to return to his estate, something he’d never have done in the past. If only to hear your greeting of “welcome home” which makes the estate he’d been given actually feel like one.

You held his hand a few days ago, pulling him quickly and quietly to feel the soft fur of a sleeping cat you’d taken to adopting. He remembers the feel of your skin, the fragility of your hand within his, and how tiny you are. It shouldn’t affect him like this. Yet even as he sits below the icy fall of water in a lotus pose, his aching erection won’t ebb.

He’s ashamed the first time he wraps one big calloused palm around his leaking shaft and fucks his fist to the thought of you.

He’s even more ashamed when those thoughts haunt him in your presence.

He’s alarmed however when he wakes tonight to the sound of his shoji sliding open. Not by the intruder, your footsteps much louder ironically when you attempt to be quiet, but by the timing.

He released his cock and laid still, strangely nervous to appear asleep should you check.

Why were you in his room?

He chants in his mind when he hears fabric rustling, then a plop on the floor as something slides and falls. Were you… undressing?

His room felt hotter, or it may have possibly been him, as the sound of you nearing alerts him to a reason you’re here tonight.

“I know you are awake.” You sound bemused.

“I know you should be in bed.” He replies more shakily than he’d hoped to sound.

“I am trying, but you won’t seem to move over for me.” His breath hitches, and before he can think he’s scooting aside and feeling anxious for the first time in a long time. He’s too old now to be fearful of such a tiny woman, your charms and allure certainly difficult to dismiss but you shouldn’t make his hands sweat like this.

“Fuck,” he doesn’t mean to curse, but when you press your nude figure tight against his side, he nearly embarrasses himself by finishing what he’d started before you’d interrupted. Not that he nor his cock minded your company, in fact it twitched as if excited about your presence.

“It feels better if you face me.”

“What are you doing?” He feels flustered, hands desperate to grab you but unsure exactly if he should.

“Seducing you…?” He hears now the unsure tone you speak with, the way your fingers curl into his yukata to prevent him from pushing you away. He shifts and turns, the futon thankfully custom for his size and fitting you fully as he finally touches you. Your face first at least.

“Are you looking at me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I pretty?” He chuckles, smile making you press your thighs together due to the sheer masculine charm he oozed.

“You are soft.” He drops his voice as he presses a hand to the middle of your back and pulls you closer. His body radiates heat like none other you’ve ever felt, all pillowy muscles and smelling of sandalwood and sage, and something else beneath it that made your teeth ache. “You are considerate and empathetic.” His hands smooth over your cheeks, nose, forehead, and lips. “You are cute and witty, I find I laugh most in your presence.” His thumbs lightly graze over your eyes. “You are intelligent. I feel I can confide in you and be understood.” Down your jaw and chest, over your shoulders and down your arms to your hands shaking lightly. “You are also mischievous, I never know what you’ll come up with…” his hands come back up, one loosely and easily encircling your entire throat. “Like sneaking into a man’s room in the middle of the night and climbing into his bed naked.” He means to sound chastising but his lust is difficult to mask. Your giggle lets him know you take it lightly.

“Not some man’s room… your room, Gyomei.”

It’s like you want to set him off.

“Should I go?” He can’t deny the way it ignites him to have you here.

“No.” He groans lightly, hands finally taking the dip you’d both been aching for and feeling your chest. “You don’t get to leave now. At least not until you explain what is it is you search for.”

“Relief?” He frowns, but becomes quickly distracted by the malleable flesh in his hands, thumbs brushing over pebbled nipples and drawing little sighs from you.

“A-and… I guess confirmation.” He pinches on little bud, rewarded with a tiny moan and the arching of your back.

“Confirmation for what?” He murmurs, debating if you being atop him would be easier.

“That you like me.” He halts, startled by the confession.

“You thought I didn’t like you?” He clarifies, finally deciding and easily lifting you up by the hips to sit on his stomach, thighs on either side of him.

“I didn’t know if it was the sort between lovers or not…” he nods, finally understanding.

“I want you deeply, sweet girl.” He doesn’t miss the shiver which shakes you when he calls you that, smile tilting higher into a crooked smirk as he lifts his hands and runs them over your ass, gently squeezing each cheek and then moving to touch your thighs.

You don’t speak as he feels you up, quiet aside from small pleasurable mewls when he plays with your breasts or spreads your ass and let’s cool air hit your cunt.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Y-yes…?”

“To the thought of me?” You feel your body heat.

“Yes. Always to the thought of you.” Your answer makes him groan, hips rutting up into nothing as he squeezes your hips.

“What do I do to you then, in your fantasies.” He’s desperate to know, desperate to recreate it. Your nails dig into the muscle on his chest, dwarfed on top of him like this.

“Oh, well, I… sit on your face.” He quirks a brow at the odd fantasy, unfamiliar with such an act.

“And do what?”

“Let you lick me, down here.” He allows you to guide his hand to the warmest place on your body, his mind blanking as he realizes.

“Oh.”

“We don’t have to do that though, let’s do what you want—oh!” He’s hauling you up like a doll onto his face, thighs spread on either side and your pussy spread and easily accessible now for his mouth. Gyomei doesn’t hesitate now, tongue slipping out as dragging through your folds as if he’s done this before. He hasn’t but he makes up for it with his wide and powerful tongue and eagerness to learn.

“Gyomei! I—ngh~!” Your moan when he licks at your pussy is more than he ever imagined. The wanton swivel of your hips as you grind down only make him more feral, large hands firmly on your ass and keeping you pressed down. Oxygen the least of his concerns as he licks and sucks until your writhing and digging your nails into his hair while you cry out for him.

He likes this act much more than his own daydreams of being intimate with you, the heady taste of your slick and sounds of your pleasure like a drug.

“I’m going to cum—!” You’re so close it’s a wonder you don’t tip over even as he lifts you completely off his face.

“H-huh?” You sound dazed and confused, so cute it makes him want to settle you down on his face again but he stops himself.

You’re on your back, looking up at his figure not blanketing you, one arm keeping him up as he lifts your chin and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips.

“You can’t cum yet.” You feel irritable having your orgasm denied, pouty expression unseen but tone converting your emotions.

“Why?” Gyomei smiles, kissing you again and forcing your mouth open to play with your tongue, sliding his thigh between your own so you can grind on him for relief.

He breaks away with a string of saliva connecting you for a moment, warm breath fanning over you. “It will hurt taking me, but it will hurt less if you cum while I’m inserting it.”

Oh. It made sense actually.

Except he doesn’t move ahead to fucking you like you wanted, asking you for more fantasies you‘ve had of him.

“Using your fingers…” and he opened you up more than any man has ever with his fingers alone. Two alone stuffing your poor cunt seemingly to max and once more bringing you to the edge until you felt like crying when he pulled away.

“Shh,” he cooes, mildly upset he’s causing you distress and equally amused by how cute he finds your grumbling as he rearranges you again. This time he just rolls your clit gently with his thumb and kisses you, lavishing your neck in love bites you’ll surely need help covering in the morning and then giving attention to your breasts.

“Gyomei please!” Your third denial felt nearly painful, your core cramping with the desperate need for release as you wiggle and struggle beneath him.

“You’ll be very sorry if I take you now, be good for me, little lotus.” He kisses away your tears of frustration, once more spearing you open with two fingers until you’re moaning and rolling your hips into him, then he adds a third.

He stills when you hiss in pain, concern painting his features as he moves to pull them out only for your hand to stop him.

“It’s okay! I’m alright, it just stings a little.”

“We can stop here, I’ll make you cum and we can go back to sleep—,”

“No! I want you, please.”

He feels hesitant until you begin to relax, body finally accepting three fat fingers stretching your little hole out as slick drips down his palm and soaks into bed below.

“G-Gyomei please let me cum, I can take you even if I do, I just need—!” You’re so close again, but he’s stringent as he pulls free from your soft tight walls with a pop. Your whine of frustration goes ignored as he finally reaches his own limit.

“I’m going to sit you in my lap.” You’re pliant in his hold as he sits up and drags you with him, placing your back to his front as he unties his yukata and allows himself to be free. He gives himself a few pumps, balls swinging heavy as he sits down with you.

You regret looking down in curiosity. Having known some men, despite being quite big physically, can have small penises.

Gyomei isn’t one of them apparently, his caution not without cause as you see the enormous cock he carries, the thick veiny shaft frightening and leaking pre-cum like a stream. Even his balls were ridiculously large, and you briefly pondered taking his offer of going to sleep.

You shook it off as you felt a gentle kiss to your temple, body relaxing as he began another round of torture to your clit with more gentle rolls with his fingers.

“Relax for me, you’re being so good, all mine,” he’s mumbling, body tense as he holds himself back and prepares mentally to keep calm as he lifts you up and lets the plush tip kiss your entrance. Then you’re feeling pleasure and pressure like nothing you‘ve ever felt before, mind going blank as you cum while he stuffs you to full capacity, Gyomei similarly struggling as he moans feeling your gooey walls contract and try to push him out even as gravity drags you down on his cock.

“Gyo—hah—!” You can hardly breathe, body struggling to connect the pain while you’re writhing pleasure as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you up and down, still touching your swollen nub, bullying his cock into you one inch at a time. Your squeals of shock and euphoria nearly make him lose it, and when his tip finally smushes up against your cervix, he cums hard.

“I-I can feel it filling me—,” your eyes roll back as hot spurts of cum pump into your womb, Gyomei’s arm like an anchor as he groans and rocks you gentle against him.

“Feels so good…” he’d never known sex could feel like this, that you felt like this, but he’s unable to pull out despite his cock becoming sensitive. Instead he keeps you in place, plugging your little hole with his cock and keeping every drop of cum inside you where it belongs.

That thought startles him. Did he want to make you pregnant? Did he want a family?

More than anything—

Gyomei groans, hushing you as you whine and wiggle in his lap, feeling his cock swelling thick and hard again inside you. “Gyomei—s’too much,” you feel like you’ll burst, body already exhausted but he’s hardly done it seems as he begins to bounce you again, feeling more akin to a toy as his shaft splits your pussy open. The slick squelching noises blend with your moans and his grunts, his cock burying itself as deeply as possible each thrust as he murmurs praise down into your ear.

“So good for me. Taking all of me so well,”

“Do you like feeling my cum inside you? Do you want more?”

“I’m going to fill you up again, make you nice and full.”

“Going to put a baby inside you, let everyone know you’re mine now.”

You’re gone, too cock drunk to do much else but cum around him and moan, drool spilling down your chin in a thin line as he takes away all coherent thoughts.

You awake the next morning sore and groggy, face confused as you look at a room not your own.

You glance down at the arm keeping you trapped, merely draped over you but so weighted you’d need to wake him to move.

He got you filthy last night, cum coating all of you inside and out before he’d washed you and put you to bed. The memory brings heat to your face as you burry yourself into the bed and smile.

He’s yours now too.

Your story to be told as one from rags to riches.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

#Yan answers #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #gyomei himejima #kny smut #gyomei himejima smut #Gyomei x reader #Gyomei x reader smut #Gyomei x fem! reader #demon slayer smut

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malacandrax · 25 days

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Hi I just wanted to say I love your art sm and you actually helped me get back into drawing a ton, for a while I had this weird idea in my brain that I HAD to draw semi realism/realism otherwise every man I drew would be horribly twinkified and I'd never be able to draw the characters I liked, but I just drew my first ever man I'm happy with in a style that isn't semi realism and a lot of it was inspired by the way you don't always close your lines w lineart and don't use a ton of pen pressure sensitivity and your art comes out incredible. Those were things I always did but would try to stop doing because people told me they were stuff you "weren't supposed to do" and it just ended with me being frustrated whenever I drew and hating my art. But seeing you do it and make absolutely gorgeous stuff really gave me that confidence to just say fuck it and do it anyways and I'm starting to actually get in the flow of drawing again, so thank you :)

This is so so cool! I struggled for About Ten Years with not being able to line in a way I liked, and I’m so glad that my way of doing it is inspirational to someone else! I hope you figure it out faster than I did haha.

Style wise, it kinda just happens, I don’t think many people fit super neatly into boxes anyway, so don’t stress over it, I definitely don’t know what my style is defined as haha! I thought it was semi realism til I googled it HAHA. I copied artists like makani and coey, reapersun and loish when I was a teenager and it definitely swayed my style!

Also I relate extremely to not really vibing with how other artists do lines. For me personally I THINK its because I think in shapes and not lines, and I started out painting and working in tone. Like real life doesn’t have lines, and when you paint it’s generally just varying between soft and hard edges, using the colour and tone to do the lifting for you. It’s way harder to figure out where to put a line, or what things need a line and what doesn't, if you’re not used to thinking that way.

I definitely ink more like I paint, kind of thinking about planes and shadow or overlap more than the outline? Like I draw the top curve of the cheek, then the jowl, then the chin, it kind of feels like cutting a 3D shape out in the space…? But I think that’s why mine are often choppy haha. In traditional art I always preferred a square brush, which carries over to my preference for minimal width variation on tablet.

Saying that, I *do* sometimes work more with width, though it's still messy and choppy haha. my trick with those is that I always choose a brush that has a fairly consistent minimum width, I can draw with a fairly fixed line, but also press down a little to get the variation when I want it. (As opposed to brushes that kind of go really thin and really thick with little effort, like a brush pen, I just don't have the control...) Below are my main blobby inkers, I can pretty comfortably draw a fixed width face, but I can make it wider if I want.

Anyway I went off on a tangent, I hope you can make art in ways that feel natural to you! And I hope making art brings you joy!

Some artists I love the lines of are linnea sterte, steven sugar, momopachi, jadenvargen, artharakka, beidak-art, pien-art, wombrion!

#mal talks

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andhumanslovedstories · 9 months

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any advice for nursing students/new nurses?

When you buy a stethoscope, get it engraved with your name, I literally cannot tell you how much that has saved my ass. All stethoscopes look the exact same, even if you think you got a unique looking one, and they're super easy to lose, and they're a hundred plus bucks. engraved!!

There's literally so many acronyms, and everyone assumes the acronyms they know are universal, and no one is correct. Get comfortable with the phrase "remind me what [x] stands for" when someone rattles off a string of letters you don't recognize. (sometimes the person talking to you doesn't know either! whoops!!)

Ask questions all the time actually. This is the ideal time to do so and everyone will be scared if you don't.

For straight cathing patients, you can usually get a lidocaine gel that numbs the urethra, which helps with discomfort. Also for straight cathing patients, if they have a vagina, make sure you visualize the urethra before you start the whole process. You don't want to have to find it later when you're sterile and can't touch anything.

If you've never used a bed pan, it is surprisingly much harder than you would expect. familiarize yourself with them before you have to place one for the first time.

At the end of every shift, find one thing you can point at that you did and were proud of. You can be proud of helping a patient get up and walk. You can be proud that your patient's pain never got above a 4. You can be proud that you helped out another nurse's patients while they were dealing with an admit. You can be proud that you didn't get visibly mad at a patient who was screaming at you. You can be proud that you got to the end of the shift and everyone is alive. You can be proud that you realized you were in over your head and called for help. Find something each shift to be proud of, and the corollary to that is behave in ways that make it easier to be proud of yourself when you look back at the way you spent your shift

get good shoes.

prioritize sleep.

meal prep

pick a few things about yourself that are harmless, not at all intimate small talk. I also have a few fun facts about myself that I love to talk about but don't overstep any boundaries (stuff like that I'm from Virginia, that I'm part of float pool so I can tell you how this room compares to others in the hospital, I have dyed hair and people love talking about that). Draw boundaries to be personable but not inappropriate. Genuinely, practice small talk. You have small talk when things are going fine so you can have Big Talk when someone's breaking down crying or starts screaming in the hallway or wants to leave against medical advice or is furious that their visitors are gonna get searched on the way in. Build rapport before you need rapport.

Sort of similar to the last one, I try to care very deeply about my patients on shift and then forget about them when I go home. I debrief with my mom or Cyrus or my journal, and then I take a shower. The shower is my mental reset time. I tuck my nursona away and emerge as just some dipshit in a towel. Find whatever ritual helps you end your shift.

there are many ways to be a good nurse. sometimes you need a hardass. sometimes you need a cheerleader. sometimes you need a goofball. sometimes you need someone who doesn't chit chat but will always get your teeth brushed, your hands washed, and your hair braided before breakfast can even get to the floor, no matter how shortstaffed the floor is. sometimes you need someone who will talk to you at three in the morning about what the dying process is like. it is impossible to be all things to all patients. as a new nurse, you start by focusing on basic minimal competency, but pay attention to what parts of the job energize you, what parts come easy to you, and lean into those. get competent at the things you are bad at, get passionate about the things you are good at, and you'll have a better chance of building a nursing practice that you can keep up with the shit times start.

the shit times can start anytime but oooh boy do they tend to arrive at your six month mark.

#nursing tag

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wispforever · 6 months

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Some thoughts on Itachi

So, I've seen a lot of comments circulating about my tags on this post, and I'm intrigued at the interest. I didn't expect it, as I see much more pigeonholing of Itachi's character than honest to god analysis. No hate- I'm no stranger to Kishimoto's writing. Some of his characters were unfortunately butchered or never given the chance to be developed properly, and Itachi is most certainly no exception. That said, I like to grant him a bit more nuance than I see on most blogs. I think people get a little wrapped up in the supposed "moral implications" of exploring how Itachi was also a victim of the system, as well as someone who victimized many people. But it's silly to equate character analysis and context consideration with condoning genocide.

I have a good laugh every once and a while at the metaphorical gymnastics people do in order to stay in the good graces of a bunch of internet trolls who are just Waiting for any opportunity to tell you you love murder and think it's delicious just because you made a post exploring a character's background. Media is grey; it's layered and wonderfully complex. There are many wrongs and rights in every story, and many wrongs and rights within those wrongs and rights. That's what I love about Naruto. Often times it's really too much like real life. Instead of people being black and white, right or wrong, bad or good- they're usually in a tough situation, trying their best and falling short, don't have all of the information, acting with good intentions or acting on what they believe will bring about a lesser evil, and then end up hurting others.

But it is much easier to assign blame and move on. A so-called bad person will always be the perfect scapegoat for issues bigger than them. In Itachi's case, the fascist government in the Leaf. It's easier to say Itachi could have just refused and decided not to be involved, than to recognize that like almost every other character in the narrative, he was under extreme duress, living in a military state. He was a child whose existence, along with all the other children and adults in the Leaf, was only valuable as long as he could serve as a tool for the war machine in the shinobi world's fucked up political system. And saying this is not the same as saying he was not capable of better decisions or that everything that he did thereafter or in general should not be read critically or subject to hypothetical consequences. It is the same as a saying his actions cannot be fully understood without complete context, and the themes of Naruto will never come through if every villain is just "evil" with no further nuance. And it would be boring too LOL

That said, I love to think about Itachi's situation back then. The ages in Naruto are a bit muddled, a little inconsistent, subject to change and interpretation, but Itachi was a child when he murdered everyone in the Uchiha compound. Most sources say he was 13. It should go without saying that someone so young isn't capable of the same decision-making or critical thinking as say, a 30-year-old, someone whose brain is finished developing and has much more experience on Earth.

Itachi's experience at this point in his life is informed by his age, and it's obviously informed by his childhood, as he has no other place from which to draw conclusions. Itachi grew up in a warring state. He saw people die and was subject to extreme violence in his formative years. To make matters worse, he was taught that war was inevitable and the only thing he could do to guard against it was kill others before they got the chance to kill him (threaten the village). Thusly, Itachi internalized at a very young age that what was in his power was to minimize damage (to himself, to his village, and to the world). What was not in his power was to stop this violence entirely (by adopting a critical mindset and going against fascist powers).

A part of this I think people often forget is that Itachi has absolutely nowhere to adopt this mindset FROM, as even though his father and the other members of the Uchiha clan seek equity in the Leaf, if they were to overthrow the Hokage and create a new system, it would still presumably center around the same ideals (minus, of course, the oppression of the Uchiha as a group). Fugaku is the head of the Uchiha clan at this time. As someone who imposed near impossible performance-related expectations on both of his sons, and withheld love and affection whenever they came up short (so often that it was at the cost of having any considerable emotional bond with either of them), there is absolutely no good reason to believe that Fugaku would reform the Leaf using a non-fascist ideology. And if he did, there is no good reason to believe that he would be some kind of visionary LMAO

This is important to remember because when it comes down to Itachi's decision to either kill everyone in the Uchiha compound and his family, or be part of the coup that would overthrow the Leaf, some people treat it as though it's a choice between fascism and non-fascism, which it most certainly is not. And if it was, Itachi, as a child who had grown up immersed in this ideology, would not be able to appreciate the difference. This context allows us to understand further what Itachi was really weighing in that moment. Accounting for his young age and limited worldview, the only valuable difference in this moment to Itachi was the amount of bloodshed that he would "allow" to happen. Essentially, he sees the options as follows:

Either give in to Danzo and kill everyone in the Uchiha compound, or facilitate a coup where the current government is (hopefully) overthrown and risk starting another war.

Here, Itachi pauses. He has known war. He knows how it affects children, adults, families, and whole nations. The peace he's living in currently is bought with blood, but it's the only peace he's ever known. The alternative is horrifying. And a war in this context, Itachi likely thinks, would be his fault, as he has now been put in the position to "prevent" it. Danzo and the whole shinobi system have groomed him into thinking so. Itachi, at age 13, cannot understand that there would be no war; it exists only as leverage for Danzo's argument at this point. His sensitivities are being played on.

Fugaku, though he is not the same as Danzo, offers about as much help as he does (that being none). Fugaku has no interest in avoiding war; if a war breaks out, it's justified because it will still mean his clan will no longer be living in oppression. This idea is valid, as fascist systems and discrimination can only cease to exist when we rise up against them; unfortunately, this most often calls for righteous violence, as the oppressive powers will not be moved with peaceful shows (not to mention they are willing to go to extreme lengths to avoid losing their hold on the people they have crushing power over, i.e. the Uchiha massacre). But Fugaku has no words to explain this to Itachi, who fears the worst and further fears being responsible for the worst. All he does is act as if it's a moral failing that his 13-year-old son is unwilling to stage a coup, which he believes could mark the abrupt end of a peace that's only just begun.

That said, let it be known that Itachi does appreciate this situation with SOME nuance, though it isn't of the kind that might have enabled him to see he was being manipulated. He at the very least understands that Danzo is a warmonger and oppresses those he fears (the Uchiha). He understands that the rights of his clan have been sorely disrespected, and that the issue needs correction. He understands the anger of his friends and family. This is why it takes him much deliberation before he can even come close to making a decision. He plays both sides right up until the end, listening to Danzo, as well as Fugaku and Shisui, paying attention to the current atmosphere in the Leaf as he tries to decide.

It is something he doesn't want to do. Here's where I get to the part I put in the tags of my drawing.

In this situation, it's almost worthless to write an analysis about Itachi's feelings at this time, his understanding of what was actually going on, his loyalty to his clan or his loyalty to the Leaf, because really, he could not grasp it. He was never prepared for this. He never knew he would be asked to make a decision he could only understand as "your family or the world?"

Itachi was put in a position that had no happy ending. There was no decision he could make that would not hurt. That could not result in a cataclysm that split him right down the middle. There was no version of this story that a 13-year-old could carry out thinking "I have done the right thing."

And that's the important part. Both sides asked him to make this decision, and so both sides are guilty of placing an immeasurable pressure on a child who should never have been put in such a position. Regardless of ideology, regardless of price, regardless of oppression or loyalty or devotion or any other thing- someone else should have made this decision for Itachi. Someone else should have been responsible. An adult, at the very least. Someone who COULD understand the implications of both options. Someone who COULD go forward and appreciate the evil of fascism and know that a coup was necessary. Itachi was never capable of such a thing. If he made the "wrong" decision, than every child who can't explain to you what a fascist government in a military state looks like and explain what the difference is between a hate crime and resisting a hateful power, is also wrong. Here is the nuance. These are things a 13-year-old in this universe cannot be expected to understand unless they are taught. And Itachi had no teacher. Quite the opposite. There were only forces pressing him from both sides, saying "choose."

Had his father done this for him, had Shisui been in this position, had any other adult Uchiha acting as a spy been put to this task, it would be a much different narrative. But of course, it had to be Itachi, who Danzo knew he could manipulate. It had to be a child, someone skilled enough to do the job, but inexperienced enough, afraid enough, to be willing to sacrifice everything they had to see the mission through. Someone you could whisper "greater good" to and have them hand over their well being on a plate. Someone who didn't understand they had the power and strength to destroy the system threatening them.

On a narrative level, Itachi exists to illustrate this point. How young people are systematically indoctrinated to serve a greater purpose, be it under a specific government, religion, or otherwise. We see it in real life fascism, in real life cults. There's no mistake. It isn't an accident that Itachi's story begins like this.

Which brings me to the rest of his life. The reason I drew the picture in the post referenced at the top. Itachi's character is a bit of a mystery the rest of the anime. Be that because of bad writing or an intentional omission, his motives, thoughts, and opinions are largely left ambiguous. However, there are still a few moments that interest me as far as the implications of his development.

When Itachi first comes back to the Leaf village, he faces Kakashi. On the one hand, this could simply be a narrative tool- the big bad meets the big good. He takes Kakashi out of commission! The first rogue shinobi we see who is able to defeat the pillar of the Leaf, the Copy Ninja, and without even breaking a sweat!

On the other hand, I find the brutality of Itachi's attack very intriguing. Again, it could be the tough guy act, but he's able to keep three jonin busy easily using standard genjutsu (with the help of Kisame). It wouldn't be a stretch to say that using the tsukuyomi is overkill, and at a considerable price, we learn later.

Why then would Itachi, who has been shown to have excellent battle intelligence, who is strategic to a fault, be willing to jeopardize his health among other things just to... scare the Leaf? Make sure Kakashi wouldn't be a nuisance in the future? Sure, the last one would make collecting Naruto less complicated, but they dispatched Kakashi easily enough, and surely Jiraiya, who Naruto was with at the time, would pose a bigger problem than Kakashi.

It doesn't make strategic sense, which makes me wonder if Itachi has a special animosity toward Kakashi. Being his superior in the ANBU before the Uchiha massacre, someone who was willing to conduct surveillance of the Uchiha compound without question, Kakashi could have become a symbol of the indifference of the Leaf for Itachi. He could very well have been a reminder of the inoperable position Itachi was put in when he was still a child, and Kakashi, of course, was an adult. Another adult who did nothing. Noticed nothing. Did not help Itachi.

And while I'm certain that Kakashi would have taken severe issue with the goings on in the Leaf at that time, judging by his reaction when he finds out the truth in Shippuden, Itachi knows him only by what he did then. Facilitated surveillance of the Uchiha compound, was a supportive superior, but nothing greater. A bystander whose compassion, while well meaning, was entirely unhelpful.

I don't think it's far fetched that Itachi fucking crucified Kakashi because he was so angry at what being in the Leaf did to him. At some point, as he got older, he realized how terrible it was. He realized there were people like him. Children who were "born killers". Pawns in the game of the shinobi powers.

After leaving the village, Itachi joins the Akatsuki, who are also seeking peace through war (another story). He is supposed to spy for them, but doesn't follow through in any enthusiastic way (that we're shown). He works alone for quite some time, or else with a group (briefly he was shown with Conan and Kakuzu). He is partners with Orochimaru before he's expelled from the Akatsuki. He is partners with one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. He grows up and meets many people, sees lots of stories unfold. He learns that he isn't in a minority. Many shinobi are just like him.

And then, as an adult, he is partnered with Kisame, who he finds excellent camaraderie with because of their similar backgrounds. We see in this relationship that he understands what happened to him and what he did enough to acknowledge that, while neither of them are monsters, as many people say, they are human. And humans make mistakes. Humans are complicated. Wrong and right and wrong and right. They understand each other, and Itachi understands more clearly what the world puts these children up to. What it forces shinobi to become. That it isn't all his fault, but he still did it. And so he is responsible. He appears to be able to live with that.

But when he returns to the Leaf, those feelings bubble up. He hates the Leaf. He hates that system. He hates what he did. Maybe he even hates being a shinobi, how his excellence was weaponized, how being an Uchiha doomed him and his clan. And for what?

Itachi is played as a character who is only sensible, only logical, only interested in practical things, has nothing to express. But the way he behaves toward Kakashi in that moment bares all his grief and anger. I just like to think about it. We have so few moments where we get to see Itachi genuinely. The fight with Kakashi, the Sasuke/Deidara fight, his thoughtful moments with Kisame. Just makes me wonder what could've been if Itachi's story had gone a little differently.

Anyway, if anyone would like me to expand on any points or has additional thoughts, feel free to hop in my ask box or leave a comment. Thanks for the interest, I love to talk.

#this is wisp #itachi uchiha #analysis

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tocomplainfriend · 2 months

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Responding to your post about fiction affecting reality: very well-written post and that’s something I agree with wholeheartedly!

Full disclosure: I am a Vivz supporter and don’t really interact with the critique community because of negative past experience (hence the anon), but I really liked your post as it was well-researched and brought up a lot of points that I did agree on. Mostly that, as you evidenced, “it’s just fiction” isn’t a great argument for poorly portraying a serious concept when there can be tangible consequences for that portrayal. And you gave some really striking examples.

In terms of Hazbin, it is not that I believe that Val’s portrayal as an abuser (and consequently Angel’s as a victim) lacks any impact, but instead that it adds a positive one. This isn’t something I’ve researched so the evidence I have of this is personal experience, but as you said in your post that media can affect real life I felt inspired to add to that conversation with how it personally affected me.

So I was aware rationally that a common result of abuse/SA is hypersexuality, like I’d seen that on psychology blogs and such but never really understood it. I’m ashamed to say I thought it was a little weird and very rare. Hazbin was what finally challenged that notion with me. Being able to see how abuse looks and attribute those events to Angel’s actions step-by-step made something click in my head. I even remember that shortly after seeing that episode, I apologized to one of my friends (a survivor themselves) over some judgmental comments I’d recently made over hypersexuality. Said friend also watched Hazbin with me and it’s the reason they talk more openly to me now and we’re a lot closer. Val’s “stupid” behavior in the show and mentioned in Vivz’s comments did not lessen the impact that episode had on me, or make it unbelievable to me that Val could be manipulative. If anything I understand more now that abusers don’t always appear as psychopathic masterminds. And I know my friend finds comments like the Mean Girls one funny and they tell me it’s empowering to make fun of Val’s incompetence.

That’s not the only positive influence Hazbin’s had on me, but the most relevant to your post, I believe. It’s the reason I’m often a skeptic on most criticisms, because my lived experience tends to go against them. You said the negative impact of Val was that people are drawing fetish art of him, but the only time I ever see that art is within critic’s posts. It never shows up in my regular feed, so it looks to me like he’s equally as fetishized as every other character; the unfortunate inevitability of the internet. I can’t say I’ve seen anyone post about stories like mine about learning to understand survivors, but I have heard positive stories from survivors themselves in person and online which lead me to believe that the positive impact outweighs the negative.

Fiction has real impact, very true. But consider that might be a good thing in this case.

Thanks for being respectful!

TW: Rape, SA

I'm a victim of SA myself and that's why I wrote all of this post. If you got something positive out of this piece of media, that's great. Same with victims that saw potion and were okay with it- that valid as much as the people that didn't like it at all. I recommend watching many others shows yourself (or movies, books, whatever) will help you out with sorts of topics in bigger ways. I understand you feel like you got something good out if (and I'm glad) but I do need to say, this is minimal in comparison to other media you could consume regarding the topic!

I personally suffer with Hypersexuality, and the treatment in the show (and merch and otherwise) I found completely wrong. Even if you got to a good understatement of the topic, please put research into it (also outside Tumblr for that matter! There are better places to find stuff about!). Thank you also for admitting your faults over your treatment of hypersexuality and apologizing for it. Many people will never let themselves grasp this concept, so thank you.

If you took Valentino's comparison to Mean Girls or Powerpuff Girl as a way of making fun of him, that's you. I found it, personally, terrible. Specially cause many comments regarding that (that I put on the post) were people actively disregarding the topic at hand. Saying that Valentino is just a karen, or He is Bubbles coded, feels so out of the realm of everything (the last one didn't feel like making fun of him). I don't like the comparison of an active sexual predator to a mean high school girl or a kinder garden girl that's regarded as bubblely or dumb. Feel like you should reach into his actions over It feels diminishing to me and other people (who also complained about this themselves).

People should be extremely careful of what they portray about this topic in media. Other stuff written in Hazbin or Helluva Boss regarding R-pe jokes also is extremely disgusting to me. Never forget that if you think this portrayal is ok, one episode apart it's a gang r-pe jokes towards Sir Pen... and an r-pe joke towards Moxxie in Spring Brakers. Which I find extremely disrespectful to do and adds to r-pe culture as much as any other r-pe jokes (general or towards men) in media. Especially when they want to portray it in a serious way with Angel, where was that energy then? (Don't say Viv didn't write that, she liked a tweet about the Sir pen joke, and the spring braker is written by Viv and Brandon.)

Also, about manipulation:

The tweet right below says that "He isn't manipulating them" because he is too stupid to do so. Responding "The Vees are just meangirls" it's crazy to me.

About "You said the negative impact of Val was that people are drawing fetish art of him, but the only time I ever see that art is within critic’s posts. It never shows up in my regular feed"

Val has being fetishized by the crew itself! The person (who is not an SA/r-pe victim said by themselves, who has being open of shipping ValxAngel and being into r-pe porn) is the one that produce the whole poison part of the episode (also based on his previously non canon ValxAngel comic). You could also go throught the people Viv's responds and likes and it's mutuals with, and they also do the same thing as this crew-member (Raph). Congrats that it doesn't appear in your timeline, tho. If this art appears in a critic post, it is because it's being criticized or brought up to make a point.

[It's not on my blog yet, but I don't like receiving double ask in the inbox, specially of anons! Sorry. I don't know if it's the same person or not, and I don't want to end up receiving 5 asks in my inbox again.]

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critique

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copperpipes · 6 months

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Okay so with the biblically accurate turtles, would them having more turtle DNA make them more dangerous? As in, more unstable? That reptillian brain just kicks in sometimes and raph will open his mouth and wiggle his tongue at random times to try and "lure" prey in, or donnie hisses and snaps and his brothers if they annoy him too much, and especially things like mating season for turtles some get especially aggressive and territorial (poor splinter prolly has so many scars from when they were babies)

Buckle up, this is gonna be long.

Let's start off with the fact I'm not changing anything, so I won't call this an au (that's just how i like to draw the turtles) i'm merely deepening the existing lore and making sense of it, at least for myself.

To explain how their brains came to be and answer the first part of your question I'll start at the beginning. I'll start with Draxum, what his goal was and how he planned to reach it, what he did, some canon related theories and from there and in the process I'll answer the rest of your first ask.

I don't have many headcanons actually, most of what i did was explaining things with my existing knowledge, this ties to my theories and my love of realistic sci-fi and worldbuilding.

Read this however you want, I'll call this an essay.

Draxum has been planning on the turtles long before he found Splinter. We know he schemed against humanity for years or possibly decades, maybe even a century (He is stated to be a couple hundred years old). With counting on the genocide of the human race he may have gone through countless drafts that for some reason didn't suit him (I could have suggested more efficient ways but then the turtles wont be born), In the end it led him to come up with the idea of warriors for mass destruction. Draxum could have created beast mutants, but I understand the ways in which intelligent fighters could be better, for example they could be taught magic when mindless animals couldn't.

We know that he has been looking for a powerful warrior to act as a surrogate DNA donor to perform the mutation, the moment he found one he would have done it, at least i believe these were his intentions, which must have meant the base subjects, or at least the plans for them, were already done.

(Mutation diagram)

[base subject/base/base entity/base creature]= the original specimen the mutation is performed on.

[surrogate DNA]= the additional genetic material which when infused into the mutagen can react with other DNA, the form doesn't matter, and replace up to 70% of the base’s dominant genes.

This may result in a cancerous outbreak and or death.

As in, he removed everything that he deemed unsuitable in his base subjects. He probably had years to do that, to nitpick gens, essentially directing and speeding up evolution, creating a special kind of turtle with both physical, hormonal, and behavioral traits he wanted even before he found a creature to mutate them with. Getting rid of some traits and strengthening/ adding others, heck, he may have even involved prehistoric gens that have gone recessive or added gens that were not in the base creatures at all.

I'll elaborate; part of the instincts were bread out due to being no longer necessary or a hassle in general. The brumation season was removed, but not the turtles ability to brumate, let me explain:

Yokai (I assume Draxus thought to find a yokai DNA donor) are homeothermal, meaning warm blooded. while turtles, our dear ol’ reptiles, are ectothermal, meaning cold blooded (I'll also assume you know what is the difference between them, if you don't, that's what Google is for). Draxum needed to combine these two, making a type of bi-blooded creatures that can slowly adjust to their environment’s temperature. But, if the difference between the internal and external temperatures is too big, they will brumate to minimize the strain on the body and adjust, obviously this takes longer.

About the breeding season you mentioned, the issue in it was it lasted just a month or so and made the subjects aggressive more towards each other (earlier in the research two died of injuries caused overnight) which he really didn't want, so he cut it out their yearly cycle.

he didn't know he would find his suitable warrior to be a human, but let's say he found splinter as soon as he was shown in the battle nexus (would make sense for him to check there regularly), he would have another 16 years to adjust his base subjects for binding with human DNA until he re-kidnapped Splinter. I also think there were things that were pre-set in the mutagen infusion (you can ask and remind me later, there is much there and here is already enough).

It took Draxum about 13 years to reach the correct formula of mutagen after his lab (and I'm assuming all his documented research) were destroyed by Splinter when he ran with the turtles. And I think the second version is much much different from the first, let's start with the obvious, the second mutagen is already infused with different kinds of surrogate DNA and is inserted by the oozasquitos directly into the bloodstream. It does not affect the general silhouette of the base subject and most importantly, it doesnt change the nervous system.

The first version doesn't just do that, it is its foremost purpose, it is meant to bind the human anatomy with the turtle base in a way that it would make a human shaped turtle, not a turtle shaped human. It essentially packs the human neuronal-cells to body mass ratio compressed into a reptile skull. Only, the reptile brain doesn't go anywhere, it just expands to the point it is capable of comprehending the universe. there are instincts left, they are just drowned out by everything else. there are instances where you are more likely to see them, like in moments of extreme emotional instants, overloads, shutdowns, meltdowns and the such, but also, in their fighting/ defense styles.

there was a major reason Draxum chose to mutate baby turtles, baby turtles he molded into something that can stand the mutation by selectively breeding them for it. baby turtle brains that would forget how painful the mutation was and would likely not suffer from PMSD (post-mutation-stress-disorder) and the likely following after that depression, and they won't need to walk and move all over again because they didn't know that yet.

there is seriously still so much i gotta tell, like, i cut out of this answer so much, about how the mutagen works, what else did draxum do to the turtles, and so so so so so much details i left out because this was getting long and i need sleep

to all the people who have sent asks, i didnt forget about you! i will get to everything, it just takes me time because i want to make an effort

thanks for the ask :D

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #baron draxum #rottmnt draxum #rise draxum #rottmnt speculations #guess my major: easy

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Text

The Trouble of Love Languages

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Dean’s love language is quality time and acts of service while the woman he loves most in this world craves physical touch, which is the one thing he can’t stand.

Warnings: angst to fluff, they’re both in a bit of the wrong here, Dean has touch aversion, arguing, Dean is definitely an asshole with lots of unresolved issues, slightly toxic relationship?, break up, reader is ever so slightly touch starved, lovers to ex’s to lovers again, drinking, crying, comfort, hopeful ending, Sam is a good wingman

WC: 4.7k

Minors DNI

Dean Winchester hated to be touched. After spending all of his life with minimal kind physical touch with the people he cared about, it was no wonder he had an aversion to it. He could put up with a hug or slap on the back to his brother and fleeting kisses to his girlfriend’s cheek or forehead but everything else was off limits.

She did her best with what she got but sometimes, she just wanted to be held against his broad chest and inhale his unique scent of cheap cologne and gunpowder with just a hint of cherry pie. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body pressed tightly to her but her love for the hunter kept those needs locked behind a steel door that she never noticed had begun to rust.

Y/N sighed, putting down the massive book on werewolves that she had been studying for the past few hours. There was a tight band around her head that was slowly drawing tighter and tighter as a killer tension headache set in. She glanced over to the other side of the library where Dean had his feet perched up on the table as he leaned back in his chair, mindlessly sucking one of the lollipops Y/N had bought for Halloween.

He was only wearing a gray henley today instead of his usual many layers of plaids and shirts so she could see, very clearly, the way his muscles moved under the fabric and the slight pudge of his belly. Those dazzling green eyes were fixed on a new edition of some car magazine he picked up on the way back from a hunt. Y/N couldn’t help it.

Slipping from her own chair, she glided over to him. “What’cha reading?”

“Magazine.” He grunted but she knew he wasn’t being mean, sometimes Dean just didn’t want to talk. Without thinking, she laid her hands on his thick shoulder and gave them a squeeze.

Dean flinched out of her grasp, turning so quickly that Y/N had to take a step back to avoid being knocked over. His chair clattered to the floor as the library settled into an explosive silence. Y/N knew Dean could be scary, he’s been through so much trauma, seen and experienced things twenty times over that no human should ever have to see or experience even once. He told her of his time in hell and as a demon but promised that she would never be scared of him because he would protect her.

But now, as his chest heaved with heavy breaths, he was positively terrifying. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “You know I don’t like to be touched and yet you still continue to do it. How long is it going to take before you get it? I. Don’t. Want. To. Touch. You.” His voice was level but filled with anger, a rage she had only seen when he confronted the worst kinds of monsters imaginable.

“Dean I’m sorry I-“

“You know maybe we shouldn’t even be together. Time and time again, you do this and you always say you’re sorry and that you won’t do it again but then a couple days later, you do.” Y/N’s heart was breaking right in front of the hunter but he was too blind with fury he couldn’t see it. “I can’t be with someone as fucking needy as you. It’s every goddamn day! I can’t get one second of peace with you being so clingy.”

That was the last straw. Y/N pushed a finger into his chest, shoving him backwards. He knew how insecure she was about her need for affection and constant reassurance, but until now, he never made her feel like it was an inconvenience. “Then yeah we shouldn’t be together. But you’re not going to be the one to break us up, I am. You’re a selfish man Dean Winchester. I don’t ask a lot from you. I ask that you take care of yourself, that you don’t cheat on me, that you treat me with respect and maybe the occasional hug so I don’t feel like one of your one night stands when you roll off of me after sex.

“I deserve someone who wants to be near me, who tries to understand what I need instead of brushing me off because you don’t want to make the effort. I am sick of being treated like a toy you can pick up and put down whenever you want a quick fuck or comfort. So Dean, you got your wish, we’re done.” Y/N turned and stormed off, her eyes burning with tears that didn’t fall until she could no longer hear her now ex destroying the library.

It was sad how quickly her bags were packed, only a duffle bag and a backpack that housed her entire life. She paused as she lifted the flannel she often wore to bed, the red and black fabric was soaked in Dean’s scent and never failed to make her feel safe every time she wore it.

It felt like a reminder of her faults, of all the things wrong with her that he couldn’t put up with. Scoffing, she threw it onto the bed they had shared only a couple hours ago. There was a quick knock on the door jam.

Sam, the gentle giant that he was, leaned on the wood, brown eyes big with concern. “Where’s Dean?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” She snapped, quickly zipping up her bag and tossing it over her shoulder, barging past him.

“Hey hey, what’s going on? Did you and Dean have a fight?” He trailed after her like a puppy, sadly watching as she stomped towards the garage which notably was missing the prized Impala. A cruel part of her mind cooed that it was probably parked at some bar where he would find someone better than her.

“If you can call it that.” She muttered, throwing open the door to her truck and shoving her stuff in. Just as she was about to climb in herself, Sam’s hand wrapped around her forearm to hold her back.

“What happened?” Tears quickly rolled down her full cheeks, wetting the shirt she was wearing as they made their way down her neck. She turned to look at the men who had become her best friend, her voice firm with a slight quiver of sadness.

“We broke up.”

With a quick pull of her arm, Sam released her and she stepped into the cab of the truck. She rolled down the window, giving him a somber look. “Take care of him, ok. And-“ Y/N debated her next words carefully before speaking again. “Tell him I love him, even if he doesn’t believe it. He needs to know he’s loved.”

And with that, she drove off, leaving behind a very confused Sam and a life that she wished she could have kept.

——————

Another town, another hunt, another bar. That’s how it always went and for a long time, Dean was content to keep it that way. Then she blew into his life like a hurricane, knocking everything off path and forging her own. No more random hookups or drinking beer with every meal. She even made him get rid of all the guns he mounted on the wall in his room.

And now, the hurricane had passed, leaving behind destruction and a hole the shape of her in his heart. But she would not come back, he made sure of that when he called her clingy. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth and watched as the light in her eyes died.

She was gone, because of him, because of his stupidity he lost the best thing that has ever happened to him and the only thing he could do was accept it. So, he went back to his old ways, paving over the path of destruction in his soul the only way he knew how, beer, hunts, and women.

Sam decided to stay in the motel that night, shooting his older brother a look so devastating that Dean couldn’t meet his eye for fear he would see the disappointment and pity he already felt in himself. But Dean slipped out the door anyway and headed for the closest bar, truly not giving a shit if it was any good or not.

The music was too loud, the lights too dim, the beer too stale. Dean, however, was determined to stay, trying to convince himself that he could go on without her. He downed his first drink quickly, not letting the taste hit his tongue before his glass was drained. Signaling for another one, he rested his elbow against the sticky bar counter.

It was familiar, like returning to your childhood home. But it felt wrong. The voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to leave, to find her and crawl on his knees begging for forgiveness until she came back. That voice was silenced with another glass of cheap whiskey.

The hand planted on his chest was familiar too. A touch he could tolerate because he knew what came after, sweaty bodies rutting together until that rush of dopamine hit him and he could feel like a normal person for a while. She was pretty, young too and obviously enamoured by the sexy older man with a gruff voice that bought her drinks and made her feel special.

Another drink. She asked him to go back to hers and he agreed, following blindly after her as she led him away. He couldn’t remember the walk to the non descript apartment, only coming back to himself when she took his hand in her own, shooting him a wink that he supposed was meant to be sultry but just served to lessen the ache in his cock.

Her slender fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, tugging his thin hips into hers and pulled him into her home. The door slammed shut behind him, blindly following her.

A grunt was knocked from his lungs as she moved him onto her bed, sinking to her knees with hooded eyes. “Lemme take care of you baby.” Her voice was grating on his ears. Dean resisted the urge to flinch when her palms were laid on his muscular thighs.

It was so wrong, a nightmare he couldn’t escape but at the same time, didn’t want to because he wanted to prove something to himself, to validate his anger and his rage at the woman that loved him so much. Dean felt her tug at his belt and was broken from his thoughts.

“Stop. Just stop.” He all but shoved the girl off of him in his haste.

“What the hell!” She chastised, quite obviously offended at having been rejected by this man that until a few seconds ago, seemed very keen to have a night of fun with her. Dean shook his head and with a muttered ‘sorry’ left her kneeling on the bedroom floor.

“You fucking dick!” She called after him, and he couldn’t help but agree.

——————

Jody’s home was pleasant enough to live in. With home cooked meals every single night and a deluge of girl talk with not only the Sheriff but the two teens in her charge. It was a good distraction for a while, getting caught up in the usual antics of the young women that Y/N imagined Sam and Dean were like when they were younger.

But even the best distractions can only last for a little while. And each night, as she settled into the small bed graciously given to her, Y/N just felt alone. She was out of place here, a passing visitor that had overstayed her welcome long ago. No matter how much Jody may have protested the opposite and Claire and Alex insisted that they loved having her there, this wasn’t Y/N’s home.

Her home had always been Dean. His presence had soothed her soul in a way that nothing had ever done before. She lived for nights where they would drink and laugh themselves silly or when he would prepare her coffee just the way she liked it in the morning. She desperately missed how his face would break out into an uneven and frankly goofy smile when she teased Sam.

In a vain attempt to stop her mind from going down a road that she knew would make her spiral, Y/N shoved her headphones in her ears and blasted a random playlist. The soft guitar and crooning voice so similar to Dean’s had her eyes burning with tears. Her chest ached as she thought about the way he sang to her in the car, his hand on the seat beside her plump thigh, not quite touching her but close enough she knew it was there.

Tears rolled down her temples wetting the pillow beneath her head as she let herself mourn the love she had lost. Her sobs were silent, mere hiccups as she forced herself not to make any noise to alert the others. She couldn’t take anymore of their pitying looks.

She hugged herself tightly as her nails dug into her soft forearms, her chest heaving with her cries. Images of the man she considered her soulmate with another woman sent her deeper down the rabbit hole of self-despair. She could only imagine what he had gotten up to in the weeks since she left and it was driving her crazy.

The song faded out, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts for a second too long. The brightness of the screen blinded her for just a moment before she clicked on the last text exchange in her phone.

I love you sweetheart

The low buzz of the outgoing call rumbled against her chest where she placed her phone face down. In the silence between each ring, she was doubting her decision more and more. Why should she reach out first when he was the one that broke them?

“Hello?” His raspy voice came out crackled through her head phones, making her heart jump slightly.

“S-sorry butt dial.” She panicked, quickly hanging up but not before hearing him call out, “Wait! Plea-“ Y/N threw her phone onto the pile of her clothes in the corner of the room, ignoring how it was now ringing again, a photo of her and Dean lighting the screen.

Sleep did not come easily that night even after her cries ceased, her eyes finally fluttering closed as the sun began to peak over the horizon, dousing the room in a soft pink.

——————

It was rare that music didn’t play in the Impala. There was almost always a constant stream of classic rock that spewed from the radio, yet the silence was more overwhelming than the usual loud songs Dean sang along to.

Sam was deeply concerned for his older brother. He knew the break up hit him hard, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, but the younger Winchester didn’t think it was this bad. Dean reeked of the same whiskey he religiously drank after they lost Bobby. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, the Impala, his prized possession looked dull and lifeless, caked with dirt and dead bugs.

Dean hadn’t shaved in the weeks since she left so he now sported a semi-impressive beard which Sam attempted to make fun of just the same as his own facial hair had been but Dean had merely grunted and ignored him. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” He attempted to start a conversation.

“Jody’s.”

“Why?” The one word answers were nothing new, but at least he was talking. Dean’s green eyes flicked briefly over to his brother before returning to the road.

“Hunt.” Sam sighed, slumping back against the leather bench of the car, his focus shifting to the world that was speeding past them. He was sick of this self-pitying attitude that was slowly driving the older man to madness when it could be solved so easily.

“If you pulled your head out of your ass, you could get her back.” The air in the car turned to ice. “Don’t act like I didn’t hear you frantically calling her last night.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled, knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. But Sam kept pushing.

“She’s the best thing to have ever happened to you and you just let her leave. Or maybe you just never loved her since you went home with someone only a week ago, that’s why you didn’t put up a fight.”

“Shut up Sam.” Sam, that should have made him worry. He was only called Sam when Dean was pissed and on the edge of an almost toddler-like melt down.

“I’m just saying, if you really wanted to, and I mean really really wanted to, she would forgive you. But you don’t want to make the effort.” The tires screamed as Dean pulled off the road with a flick of his wrists. Sam was jerked sideways with the force but then was sent the other direction as Dean fisted the front of his flannel and shoved him back against the car door.

His eyes were wild with fury and his next words came out in a snarl. “I can’t get her back. Don’t you understand that. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” He pushed, desperate to get his brother to finally come to his senses. “You know she loves you and that she would do anything for you. What made this fight so terrible?”

“Because I can’t touch her!” The silence quickly returned as Sam tried to comprehend what he was just told. “I can’t touch her Sammy.” Dean was on the edge of tears. He released his shirt from his grasp like the fabric had burnt him and buried his head in his hands.

Sam had never witnessed Dean like this before, like his world was crumbling down before him and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it because he had just given up. No matter the circumstances or insurmountable odds that had faced him, he always pushed through with his can-do attitude and unwavering loyalty to those he loved. But now he was being consumed by a hopelessness so many monsters had attempted to instill in him but never could.

He was heartbroken and suffering. He lost the woman who knew his soul and yet still loved him. Sam knew what that despair felt like, to have such a great love ripped away and not giving yourself time to lament on that loss.

“Dean.” He started but was quickly interrupted.

“I couldn’t give her what she deserved. I couldn’t be that loving boyfriend she wanted so badly. I couldn’t even fucking hug her without feeling like I wanted to push her away. And I knew it was hurting her but she was right, I am selfish. I wanted her to myself even if I could see her slowly dying inside.”

The sun was quickly setting over the brothers, the reds and purples giving way to a deep blue. They watched, for a moment, as the stars began to appear and the darkness surrounded them. “I’ve hurt so many people in my life. My hands have been stained red with blood for so long and she was the one person I couldn’t stand to hurt. Yet I hurt her so badly that she ran away from me.”

“But you do want her back don’t you?”

Tearful green eyes looked back at him. “More than anything.”

“Then we need to make a pitstop, I have an idea.”

——————

Y/N couldn’t help but notice Jody’s worried glances towards the front door as they ate dinner. “Alright Mills, that’s the eighth time you’ve looked at the door in five minutes. What’s going on? Do you have a secret lover coming over?” Claire snorted in her drink but quickly recovered as her surrogate mom shot her a glare.

“No, I do not have a secret lover. Thank you very much. I’m just waiting for a package.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman, still incredibly doubtful.

“It’s almost 10 at night, why would a package be delivered this late?”

“Well, I-“ The doorbell rang, saving her from having to give another lame excuse. “Excuse me a moment, there’s my package.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the Sheriff, not saying anything else.

Alex sighed, shaking her head, like she was in on some conspiracy that Jody had set up. “Have you got anything to add?” Y/N teased.

“Nope, nothing at all. Isn’t that right Claire?” Said girl, who was sitting to Y/N’s left, just huffed and took another large bite of her food.

Y/N ignored the muffled voices coming from the entryway, assuming that Jody, being her usual friendly self, was making conversation with whoever was at the door. Then, “hey girls, I need your help for a minute.” And without so much as a groan of annoyance, both teens stood and rushed from the room.

Before Y/N could follow after them, she heard the front door slam shut and the obvious sound of a car engine starting up and then driving away. “What the hell?” Just as she stood from the table to investigate, a large figure blocked the doorway.

“Dean?”

“Hi sweetheart.” She melted at the sound of his voice clearly after so long and not through the crackly and broken version she heard through the dozens of voicemails he left her the night before. She itched to run into his strong arms but remained in place, her hand absentmindedly falling to the table, laying her palm flat against the butter knife she had been using. “I hope you’re not planning on using that on me.”

Dean gestured to her hand in a joking manner but only succeeded in making her scowl at him. “You look like shit.” He winced at her tone.

“I deserved that.”

“You deserve a lot worse. What the hell do you want Winchester?” Dean sighed. His body tilted forward, like he wanted to get closer. Running a hand through his hair, which was slightly longer than he normally kept it, his eyes dropped to the ground.

Y/N watched as he deflated, the usually stoic image of the hunter before her crumbling to dust and leaving a man that looked truly broken. “I didn’t mean to call you clingy.” Straight to business, good. She thought.

“But you did. And you did it knowing full well how I feel about that word.” Unconsciously, her voice softened as he nodded along to what she was saying.

“I know and I’m sorry about that. I’m- fuck- I’m sorry about everything.” Y/N didn’t object when he took a tentative step forward and she cursed her body for not recoiling as he drew closer. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move away. “I wish I could be the man you want, the one you deserve, but I’m not and I don’t think I will ever be.”

“Not really selling your case here Dean.”

“Just- just let me get to my point and then you can cuss me out. I love you and I want to change for you. I want to get better at touching you and I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home. Besides Sammy’s been pouting a lot without you there and it’s getting really fucking annoying.” Of course the man couldn’t get through a serious discussion without being a dumbass.

Dean stood inches from her now, and Y/N could see how his hands trembled, either from anxiety or the copious amounts of alcohol she smelt from him, she didn’t know. “I don’t want you to change, Dean. I love you for who you are but you really hurt me and-“

“I know.” He cut her off. “I know and I want to make it right, if you’ll let me.” His green eyes shone with tears

“Goddamn you and your stupid puppy dog eyes.” She grumbled. Dean smirked. “Alright! Jesus, we can try again but I expect so much fucking grovelling, like ten times more than I had to do when I accidentally ate the last slice of pecan pie.”

He smiled and nodded, placing his hand on the dining room table mere millimeters from her own. “Anything you want sweetheart.”

“And no sex for the foreseeable future, not even over the clothes stuff.” He winced at that but still, his smile did not waver.

“And, and, fuck I can’t think of anything else with you looking at me like that.” She whined and turned her head so she didn’t have to look into his eyes anymore. Y/N gasped as a finger hooked under her chin, guiding her gaze back to the man she still loved so much. His smile was even softer now, almost dopey with love.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means never getting to see you in anything less than fully clothed for the rest of my life and giving you all of my pie. I just need you, sweetheart.” His forehead dropped to her own, the tips of their noses brushing together in an act so intimate it made her chest burn with affection.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” The question hung heavily in the air, pressing down on both of their chests like a massive weight. Dean breathed out harshly through his nose and Y/N froze, already fearing his answer, she began to pull away. But without any hesitation, his right arm wound around her thick waist and tugged her into his chest. Caught off guard, Y/N planted her hands on his chest.

She felt the way his body tensed beneath her palms, still so unused to being touched but he didn’t let her go like he would have before. “The short answer: no.”

“And the long answer?” Her throat felt like it was closing up with the onslaught of tear building behind her eyes.

“A girl brought me back to her place and tried to go down on me but I didn’t even kiss her. I left before she got my belt off.” Unable to stop herself, Y/N chuckled.

“You just left?”

Dean’s cheeks coloured with a rare flush. “Yeah, I walked out the door and she was still on her knees calling me a dick.”

“Well she was right about that.” And they stayed like that for a moment, letting themselves be reminded about how much they loved each other. Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, Dean stepped away.

“Wait here, I have something for you.” With a few long strides, he left the room and then quickly reappeared holding a canvas bag with the phrase ‘act like a lady, think like a boss’ printed on the side in big, bold lettering. “Don’t diss the bag sweetheart.”

And before she could snark something back, he pulled a teddy bear from the bag. The bear seemed to be a regular plush at first glance, but when Dean handed it to her, Y/N couldn’t help but smile brightly. The toy easily weighed 5 pounds and suspiciously smelt of Dean’s cologne. “I thought that this could be a substitute for when you want to cuddle. But this is temporary, cause I will get better. He’s just a placeholder.”

“He?”

“Yeah.” He sighed happily. “Little Dean Jr.” Holding the bear tighter to her chest, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and finally planted her lips on his. Her skin burned as the soft kiss quickly turned more passionate and his newly grown beard scraped against her. Fingers curled into his hair, Y/N yanked him even closer as Dean’s hands fell to her generous ass, giving her cheeks a light squeeze.

Reluctantly, she pulled away first, her lungs screaming for oxygen and her brain telling her that if she kissed him any more, she would end up in the back seat of Baby with her legs over his shoulders. “This is a start. But I will not have you talk to me like that again. If you do, I’m gone and you won’t ever see me again.”

“I promise, I’ll do better.” Content with his answer, Y/N pecked his swollen lips.

“The bear was Sam’s idea wasn’t it?”

“But I named him!”

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scara-hater · 1 year

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making out with al haitham, childe, dottore, capitano, or pantalone? 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARS

Iloveitiloveitiloveit- this is the best request. I’ll make a pt.2 with remaining characters soon!

Characters childe, pantalone, al haitham.

Warnings: childe being horny cuz he’s a loser. Literally making out. My writing.

Not proofread!

——

Needs when alone.

Childe

He's literally a virgin, yeah.

fresh out of his teenage years and throwing himself into harbinger work right after, there’s a lot of pent-up sexual frustration. As well as never having a partner before, his inexperience makes him quite.. desperate.

Both hands grab the sides of your face, he leans in to kiss your lips once.. twice.. then looks to see if he can continue. If yes, then he immediately pushes against you to pathetically satisfy his needs. I'm sorry, but he gets turned on too easy, heavily breathing and blushing just from hearing your voice call out his name

"Ajax." Oh.

He’s whining and trying to have you as much as possible. Hands now focused on your waist, his grip is tight. Lips moving in sync and whimpers emitting from the boy underneath you. You just feel so good against him.

“Did you just-“

"yes, but please, just focus on me, I’ll deal with it myself after this.” He latches onto you once again.

Yeah bro got hard

Pantalone

Please. He'll slide one hand to your face while the other grips your waist. Agonizingly slow hell kiss you, humming as his grasp on your face grows a little tighter.

What he wants is to leave your mind numb, and Pantalone will do all he can to achieve that.

Pulling you for your body to connect with his, he wants you to lose yourself by a simple kiss before you can get anything else. And when he opens his eyes to see your sweet gaze, he can no longer deny what both of you want. With lust filled hunger, he takes your lips once again. This time, fervently. Minimal movement but mouths never leaving each other, he revels in your in your smaller frame begging for more. Your hands wrinkling his shirt as they lay on his chest.

Oh how adorable you are.

Squishing your waist and pulling away, he looks at your jelly like state. Your breathing heavy and your face flushed. He wants all of you, and you gladly give it to him every time.

Al-haitham

Mf does he looks like he’s knows what he’s doing? I don’t think so.

In moments like these, his stoic expression is wiped clean. You’re taking the lead has his hands shakily rest on your hips, his taller frame leaning down as his face is bright red and eyes squeezed shut. Mouths messily moving together as you just arrived home. No matter how many times, this happens, which isn’t a lot, Alhaitham kinda goes stupid. His mind filled with you and your intoxicating lips, my guy is gone. No thoughts.

“Please, may I indulge in your touch more.” Drawing your lower body to his as he grows more needy.

Bottom energy.

#genshin impact #genshin x you #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #al haitam x reader #childe #pantalone #al haitham #HELP ME I’M SORRY FOR THIS HORRIDNESS

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foone · 1 year

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ok please tell us about the tandy-memorex vis :D

OKAY the Tandy Memorex Video Information System is a hilarious console that Tandy/Radio Shack came up with in 1992.

It's called the Tandy-Memorex VIS partially to distance itself from Tandy, but Memorex was owned by Tandy at the time, and this is entirely their fault. Back in 1992, the CD-ROM was the NEW HOT THING and everyone wanted to get in on that. Arguably every console that tried failed to some degree or another, until the Sony Playstation in 1994. But the VIS failed spectacularly hard, selling something like 11,000 units, and Radio Shack was nearly giving them away towards the short lifespan of the console (1992-1994).

It got about 20 games, and another 24 releases that could charitably be called "multimedia products". Things like encyclopedias, photo albums on assorted issues, and spoken-illustrated-book things with minimal animation. Of those 20 games, many of them were edutainment games, things like word puzzles, math games, drawing tools along the lines of kid-pix (on a console with no way to save pictures or print them out, so... yeah).

On top of this, it cost 699$. IN NINETEEN NINETY FUCKING TWO. Plug that into an inflation calculator and it comes out at about one and a half thousand dollars, for a console with barely any games and the ones that it did come with are designed for the little kiddies. This thing never had a market.

But here's the thing that makes it so memorable to me: While the games available for it were not interesting, and it's just another example of a failed CD-ROM console alongside the endless failed or barely-survived ones that littered the early-90s... (Every played a CD-i, 3DO, NeoGeo CD, PC-FX, FX Towns Marty, LaserActive, Commodore CD-TV or Amiga CD32? How about one of the add-ons, the Sega CD, TurboGrafx-CD, or Atari Jaguar CD? Hell, this is what the Nintendo Playstation was supposed to be, before that deal went sideways and it became two separate consoles)

The thing is that technologically the VIS is super unique because it's an idea that wouldn't really be repeated until 2001, nearly a decade later: The VIS is a console that's a computer.

Yeah, I know, all consoles are computers (except maybe arguably some early pong units), but I mean like a desktop PC. The Tandy-Memorex VIS is an IBM PC clone running Windows!

(EDIT: Accidentally submitted too early)

It's a modular windows, a sort of embedded-windows that only runs off a ROM chip, but it's still an Intel 286 with a relatively normal VGA card, a megabyte of RAM, and a 1X CD-ROM drive. This thing could basically play a ton of DOS games, it would just be a matter of some basic porting.

And it just never happened. Instead all the games are custom-designed edutainment/multimedia things, and no one ported Duke Nukem or Commander Keen or Kings Quest to it (Actually Sierra did make a test port of Kings Quest 5, but it never came out. Reportedly it was slow as hell)

It could have been a very interesting console that let us play tons of DOS games in the living room in 1992, but Tandy mismanaged it with the ridiculous price and bad policy regarding games releases which meant it never really amounted to anything.

Anyway I've got one in my room right now, and I'm planning on building a CD-ROM emulator for it so I can easily play around with making homebrew with it. I want to port a bunch of DOS games to it and make it reach its potential, like Tandy should have done in 1992.

They already had a successful line of PC compatibles in the Tandy 1000, and the VIS is partially made of advancements they developed for that weird line of computers. If they had leaned into that angle, sold it at a better price, they could have really built something special. So many advanced DOS games (and even more advanced ones made possible by the CD-ROM format) that would blow away anything else in the console market in 1992 could have been VIS releases. Instead we got some (barely-)FMV games and a bunch of sub-par Math Blaster and Reader Rabbit clones on a console that no one wanted to buy because it was too damn expensive.

#tandy memorex vis #console history

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egg-noodle · 4 months

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You have so many unique ways of stylizing you characters! How did you come to developed the very geometric one? Also, how do you decide what art style to use for each work? (Rooting for your recovery. Ganbatte!)

There's quite a long story behind this haha. I injured my wrists in my second year of uni and realised I couldn't continue with how I had been drawing up until that point. I had to have a very hard think about the direction I wanted my art to go, since I wanted to be able to create for as long as possible. So for 6 months I went full research and analysis mode into artists who were making minimalist work. Who was currently successful? What parts of their work did I like? How could I switch to drawing completely differently than what came naturally to me while still feeling creatively fulfilled? So I had all my research, and then I spent the next 6 months trying to test out as many styles and techniques as I could, to see what felt right to me. This was around 2012, from memory? Concurrently to all this, at uni we were given all these little drawing exercises to do, and I remember one of them being 'draw a character in 4 lines'. It was meant to be a gestural exercise, but it really resonated with me, the idea that you didn't need a lot of detail in order to communicate what you wanted. So that morphed into my overall goal: minimal output, maximum message/connection. Then in my third year at uni, we got taught the Point < Line < Shape hierarchy, which is how you can control what your eye is drawn to first. It was meant to be used for creating appealing compositions (e.g. draw a bird, a tree, and a mountain in as many different configurations as you can), but I ended up applying it to my character design, and I've never looked back.

I currently am a freelance animator and designer, and no matter the job, there's always a style that I need to emulate, so a fair chunk of my professional work also bleeds into the art I do in my free time. As for how I decide on which style to go with for what pieces, I don't really have a system for it haha. I use my Likes on all my social media as one giant reference folder, so I just scroll through those until I find a technique, a composition, a shape, a colour palette, etc that I think I would like to try. I'm still in the habit of researching and analysing other people's work constantly, so there's always something new I want to test out for myself. TL;DR I injured my wrists at uni and searched for a way to draw without injuring myself further haha.

#ask egg

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saltysplayt00ns · 6 months

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The way Kique draws felines drives me crazy. The golden lioness looks like a plushy and sleeping Feaf… Oh my god. This guy calls himself a professional‚ can't he use references‚ learn anatomy or what

I couldn't agree more on that aspect, but it's understandable why the felines look " plushy". Feaf being a Taiga lion which is a Lion, unless their is a lion subspecies where kique lives. Lion's and similar wild cats surprisingly are very muscle built and sturdy with course fur. They're literally built different XD

Most wild cats that have to pull down and carry prey that can be more then their body weight, which requires a lot of muscles to take that down. Not only that, their structure is not the same as Canines. And that's the problem, Kique doesn't want to be out of his comfort zone, he is used to tracing and doing the same poses and scenes and plot every time, heck majority of the pages of Home has been dogs but not only that JARO'S AND RIFLES. SO whenever he tries to branch out, it becomes wonky and out of place, He tried to do a human, and you would think from those 6 years he had practice behind the scenes to get ready - for all I know it's just another of kique's self insert. it's just too inconvenient and takes too much time to do and rather minimize as much work as possibly and pop out half-bake pages. He only puts effort in scenes that interest him...like Ranach, Rogio and stuff like Rome and Jahla talking with each other. ---- RE-STRUCTURE The Felidaes for one should have been the top predators of the food chain. If you placed one dog with a lioness, it would be severely wounded - and a male lion probably kill it. It's why hyenas , AWD, Hippos, Crocs, Elephants, wildebeests, buffalos etc. have really big groups and most tackle one lion or a cub, cause most likely someone is going to die and the Prey would rather take action and question later. So having a feline be the Capitol matriarch or at least be another Matriarch/Capitol would've been better. If not you have to have a reason why Dogs are top of the food chain when a lion can call a spirit to kill them all or why they have not revolted and formed alliances over the pass 3 decades.

PG. 710 & 711 Like Why the hell would you do this???!! Literally Kique had Nubia hang Iberion instead of breaking his windpipe with her teeth, JUST SO Ranach can be a hero and be with Iberion and then dip. Plot convenient for Ranach. SUGGESTIONS; - Could have made the Felines smaller, like Lynx or cheetah. - Have felines not be in big groups but in smaller groups, be consistent of the dogs wiping out any threats/ competition and placing very strict laws over them. - Have canines destroy alters and historical information involving the felines, limiting their way of spiritual contact. - Have them not be in a public beach and not a established tribe, be difficult TO register and seeing a large pride would start the dogs of "weeding them out" , so Have them hidden underground or dangerous, deep parts of the grouse forests. These helps build up the narrative of why Zilas died instead of a mistake, Axi being a tightwad, and using archery to hit from afar and not starting a panic from the canines, living in thick, tropical forests. Unseen and protected. It also have the lion's protect their only contact of their bloodroots, which was the " Golden Lioness " being protective and caring of her people but Disdain and judgmental over the dogs. Making Rhovanion the first dog to be trusted with the secret, and why Feaf did the same for Rhovanion in keeping a secret for him in wanting to see Jahla and other events. mind you, there's many other sensible ways but these what pops up. ---- ALSO CONSISTENCY OF DESIGNS kique use his broken genetics to do the design but really he just have dogs, cat and horse patterns over the animals with no construct. If you have a structure on how designs work for each species, it wouldn't be a hassle, he had literally section of fodder designs on Wiki with names and everything before it got nuked.

PG. 698 & 654 literally two dogs have feline patterns so far shown, for no reason except " it's cool factor " and " because I want to " no wonder the planet is sucked of life and activity, cause nobody can hunt with a noticeable look over their bodies. they're all over the place.

For starters have the Forngrym be the first Starting cats and over 30+ years, and I mean more then 30+ yrs, the sabers separated down warmer climates to form the Taiga lions, where the saber teeth are not robust and stronger to take down big prey like mammoths and giant bears. They become smaller and and focus on suffocation and tactical ambushes, their spots are not as prominent and subtle, being less as they get older...like actual lions heck some kept their cub spots. tail tip is lighter for groups to follow, signal and for cubs. ---- ART Actually It took a bit long cause I was working on the Golden Lioness to show/ demonstrate what could have been done. and find other concepts I have did involving Felines and place them here and separately if people want to only look at the artwork.

Firstly I had to look up some references and other people gave some of theirs that helped piece out a simple " Golden Lioness" but still interesting to look. They were going to be full golden, but added Whites and different gold color for the mane, to break out the colors and provide and interesting look.

Later I wanted to see how it look with 3 simple Panels, instead of just doing the same pose, I wanted a different narrative, giving it an entry and show it's full-bodied before close up shots.

Later, I worked on the character, had references to help with Feline anatomy both realistic and 3D sculptures to clean up the body. and Finally I got to work on the colors, tweaked Feaf and the bedding, Worked on light and shadow directions and then added effects. ----- I hope you enjoy this meaty blog ♥

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belongtodeukae · 1 year

Text

prompt: “We might get caught. Does that turn you on?”

----------

[7:13 pm] “i could kiss you for hours”, you mumbled against handong’s lips before capturing them again for another taste. you felt her smiling against you, “nothing is stopping you from doing that”.

you pulled back, raising your eyebrows at her. since you were straddling her lap as she sat on the couch, you used her shoulders as armrests. so, as soon as there was more than the minimal distance between your lips, she simply tilted her head to the side and kissed your forearm gently, replacing your lips with another part of you. the action made your insides melt, assisted by her hands that were hugging your waist protectively.

handong was always so intoxicating, as if your body was following her before your mind even produced a single thought. that’s why you found yourself leaning back in towards her lips, tasting them a couple more times before voicing a thought that was there way too many minutes ago, “i can’t kiss you for hours because we’re not alone”.

“yeah, so?” handong asked nonchalantly, “we don’t have to kiss”, you could feel her mouth curving into a smile when she lowered it to kiss your neck slowly.

“handong, that’s…” you sighed when her kisses started becoming open mouthed, hand instinctively going to the back of her head, as if to help her to do the exact opposite of what you were saying, “that’s not even close to my point”.

she let out a few short hums, one after another, which could be roughly translated to ‘yes, whatever you just said’. that was further proven when her lips started traveling towards your chest, getting dangerously close to the outline of your v-neck sweater, “baby”, you accompanied the warning with a gentle tug on her hair at the back of her head. the situation wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been; besides two of you shamelessly making out on the couch in the living room she shares with 6 of her members, only one of them was present in the dorm. siyeon was in her room for a solid 20 minutes, entertaining herself on her phone was your guess.

the only issue was; you were facing the hallway directly and could see the door to her room clearly. if they were to open, you would have less than half a second to not look suspicious in any way. while you were weighing the chances of siyeon deciding to leave her room in the following moments, your sneaky girlfriend used your distracted state to pull down the low collar of your sweater along with your bra, exposing your breasts completely. you instantly gasped, both because of the sudden rush of cold air and because of handong’s cheeky laugh that didn’t stop even when she decided to take one of your nipples in her mouth, not hesitating for a moment before sucking on it harshly.

“fuck, handong… siyeon…”

“what about her? scared she’ll come out and see you looking like a slut for me?” you gasped once again when you realized how right handong was. due to the couch being pretty low, now your bare breasts were on full display to anyone that could standing in that hallway, only partially blocked by handong’s head.

suprisingly, the thought wasn’t scary. now it gave you a rush, but the kind that went directly to your heat. you imagined what siyeon’s face would look like if she saw you like this, letting your girlfriend and her member devour you and have her way with you in front of her. the thought made you shiver, spiking you with adrenaline. handong suddenly switched to the other side and played with the nipple she had just used, drawing out a whimper from you considering how sensitive it was after her rough mouth.

“answer me”, handong grazed her teeth along your nipple gently, “we might get caught. does that turn you on?”

once again, your body reacted to her before your mind did as your hips started grinding on her lap, your fingers pressing the back of her head into your chest harder. handong smirked again, “what if i just fuck you right here and don’t stop even after anyone comes in?”

#dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher x reader #handong #handong imagines #handong scenarios #handong x reader #dreamcatcher smut #handong smut #request

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readingsquotes · 1 month

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"All our choices were made to reflect and confront us in the present – not to say, ‘Look what they did then’; rather, ‘Look what we do now,’” Glazer said, quickly dispatching with the notion that comparing present-day horrors to Nazi crimes is inherently minimizing or relativizing, and leaving no doubt that his explicit intention was to draw out continuities between the monstrous past and our monstrous present.

And he went further: “We stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people, whether the victims of 7 October in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza.” For Glazer, Israel does not get a pass, nor is it ethical to use intergenerational Jewish trauma from the Holocaust as justification or cover for atrocities committed by the Israeli state today.

....

“Genocide becomes ambient to their lives”: that is how Glazer has described the atmosphere he attempted to capture in his film, in which his characters attend to their daily dramas – sleepless kids, a hard-to-please mother, casual infidelities – in the shadow of smokestacks belching out human remains. It’s not that these people don’t know that an industrial-scale killing machine whirs just beyond their garden wall. They have simply learned to lead contented lives with ambient genocide.

It is this that feels most contemporary, most of this terrible moment, about Glazer’s staggering film. More than five months into the daily slaughter in Gaza, and with Israel brazenly ignoring the orders of the international court of justice, and western governments gently scolding Israel while shipping it more arms, genocide is becoming ambient once more – at least for those of us fortunate enough to live on the safe sides of the many walls that carve up our world. We face the risk of it grinding on, becoming the soundtrack of modern life. Not even the main event.

Glazer has repeatedly stressed that his film’s subject is not the Holocaust, with its well-known horrors and historical particularities, but something more enduring and pervasive: the human capacity to live with holocausts and other atrocities, to make peace with them, draw benefit from them.

....

One of the film’s most memorable scenes comes when a package filled with clothing and lingerie stolen from the camp’s prisoners arrives at the Höss home. The commandant’s wife, Hedwig (played almost too convincingly by Sandra Hüller), decrees that everyone, including the servants, can choose one item. She keeps a fur coat for herself, even trying on the lipstick she finds in a pocket.

It is the intimacy of the entanglements with the dead that are so chilling. And I have no idea how anyone can watch that scene and not think of the Israeli soldiers who have filmed themselves rifling through the lingerie of Palestinians whose homes they are occupying in Gaza, or boasting of stealing shoes and jewelry for their fiances and girlfriends, or taking group selfies with Gaza’s rubble as the backdrop. (One such photo went viral after the writer Benjamin Kunkel added the caption “The Zone of Pinterest”.)

There are so many such echoes that, today, Glazer’s masterpiece feels more like a documentary than a metaphor.

...

Zone offers an extreme portrait of a family whose placid and pretty life flows directly from the machinery devouring human life next door. This is most emphatically not a portrait of people in denial: they know what is happening on the other side of the wall, and even the kids play with scavenged human teeth. The concentration camp and the family home are not separate entities; they are conjoined. The wall of the family’s garden – creating an enclosed space for the children to play, and shade for the pool – is the same wall that, on the other side, encloses the camp.

Everyone I know who has seen the film can think of little but Gaza.

#palestine #free palestine #isreal #gaza #apartheid #genocide #american imperialism

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itsuki-minamy · 8 months

Text

"K - RETURN OF KINGS" (Novel)

CHAPTER 9: NEKO'S DREAM (Part 1)

* List of Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Awashima Seri let out a deep breath as she leaned back on the couch in the living room.

Ever since they were defeated in the decisive battle of Mihashira Tower, Awashima barely took a break. There was a lot to do. Pick up the injured, transport them to the hospital, rearrange shifts to fill in the gaps, contact and inform relevant parties, track down the missing "Dresden Slate" and gather information, while conducting normal activities such as crime patrol, in order to minimize the members' agitation due to defeat. She couldn't show even the slightest hesitation.

"Phew."

Awashima let out another sigh and rubbed her eyes.

"Please rest for a while." If Akiyama hadn't negotiated with a serious expression, Awashima would have kept working. And then she should have collapsed. Not to mention the physical exhaustion, the mental exhaustion was reaching its limit. Awashima still suffered from losing, and there was one thing that worried her more than anything else.

This is the case of Munakata and Fushimi.

It seems that there was an argument between Munakata and Fushimi in the early morning of the 25th. Even if she regretted not being there at that time, now it wasn't a big deal.

The most shocking thing was the fact that Munakata had an argument with someone. What that "King" made was a theory or a statement, even if there was, it would have been an argument, and it was unimaginable that he would fight violently with someone.

No, thinking so, Awashima smiled while she still covered her eyes.

She has only seen Munakata get angry once. How many years ago was that? When Suoh had just become the "Red King". Munakata tried to persuade Suoh and for some reason it turned into a battle.

At that time, Awashima could do almost nothing. When she became a member of the "Scepter 4" clan, she learned the entire history of supernatural powers. Among them, the clash between the predecessor "Blue King" and the "Red King", which is said to be the worst, and the "Kagutsu Incident" at the end. The clash between Munakata and Suoh seemed like a repeat of that.

Even Suoh couldn't have ignored that story. Despite that, that man easily kicked Munakata away. What made Munakata angry was Suoh's irresponsibility.

However, Fushimi is not a "King".

Even as capable as he is, he is just a member of the clan. He is in no way equal to Munakata. It was unthinkable that Munakata would have a fight with him and finally drive him out.

Could that also be because of the injuries he received?

Then...

"What I can do?"

Her gaze moved slowly, and settled into a gothic-style coffee table near the couch.

Awashima's saber was leaning there.

(Reisi Munakata's right-hand man is you, not me.)

The man who once said that to Awashima cut to his own "King". As a result, he saved this country. Habari Jin expected that? A clan member who is most loyal to himself brings death upon himself. Was that the right path for her?

What about Munakata?

Wait, who will be by his side when she drops his "Sword of Damocles"? Could it really be her?

Is it possible for her to kill the Captain...?

"......!"

The doubts that had been suppressed until now spilled over, and Awashima frowned as if she was enduring the pain.

Despite being defeated, Munakata is still alive and well. The Clansman are also desperately searching for the whereabouts of the "Green King". There is still a chance to get the "Slate" back. They did not lose completely.

Still, the second hand of doom is definitely advancing.

When "that moment" comes, she must draw that saber. That was the role of Seri Awashima, the Vice-Captain of "Scepter 4", which she couldn't cede to anyone else.

Lying back on the sofa she tried to catch her breath.

She didn't want to think about it anymore. She remembered that Akiyama took it from her when she tried to remove her PDA from her chest. Because if she does, she'll have to work.

From there, her thoughts turned elsewhere.

No one was able to contact Fushimi. All incoming calls from "Scepter 4" were blocked and in the case of "Homura" it was no different. Contact lost and gone. They have no idea where and what he is doing these days.

One of the reasons she wants him to come back is that Fushimi's disappearance is the cause of half of that hustle. He is a capable man. When it comes to information processing, there's no one better than Fushimi, and there are mountains of jobs that can't be done without Fushimi.

And she on the other hand is just worried about Fushimi.

Fushimi is not a nice person, even by flattery. Rather, to put it bluntly, he has a bad personality. He's the type of person people hate, and Awashima didn't like him either.

Still, there is something about Fushimi that cannot be left alone.

He is sharp as a knife, but has a brittle side like glass. Despite being extremely talented, he is fatally bad at trusting others. Where and what is he doing now that he has jumped from "Scepter 4"? Thinking about it makes her feel uncomfortable. Hopefully he doesn't get desperate and get involved in weird things.

Just as she was thinking about it, there was a knock on the break room door.

"Fu, Vice-Captain! It's hard!"

Awashima sat down heavily. A lot of hard things have happened in the last few days. Just adding one more thing now won't change anything, the voice from the other side of the door pushed away a careless thought.

"The "Jungle" clansman, Douhan Hirasaka has escaped from prison! It is believed that the missing Saruhiko Fushimi guided her!"

++++++++++

Blade proof suit, tactical vest, heeled boots and combat gloves. Even when she got dressed and moved her body, there was nothing unnatural about it. The grenades, flashbangs, and shurikens that Fushimi always kept on hand were nowhere to be found in the cardboard box that Fushimi brought, but it couldn't be helped. Those clothes were just "trial items", and the ones in there were "dangerous goods". In any case, if she went back to the hideout, she could replace it.

Fushimi looked coldly into the rearview mirror as Hirasaka adjusted her equipment in the back seat. There was no light inside the van parked in the dark alley, and the only light was the unreliable interior lights.

While he pretended to manipulate a PDA, Hirasaka also watched Fushimi without letting her guard down.

In a way, that place was dead.

If one of them wanted to, a battle would break out in no time. Other than Fushimi, Hirasaka has no reason to keep him alive. If the freedom that was fortunately obtained was solidified, it would have been better to shut Fushimi's mouth there.

She wondered if she could.

She answered herself that she could do it. Dangerous goods have been seized across the board, but she's got a switchblade in her combat gloves. Make a hole and pick his throat. That would be enough.

"Do not think too much."

Leaning down from the driver's seat, Fushimi stabbed into the nail.

"I took the knife out of your glove. Right now you don't have anything you can stab or cut with."

Hirasaka tried to operate the glove. Shukon, a stupid sound resonated and the knife did not come out. Hirasaka shrugged as she gave him a cool look.

"You have quite a hobby going through women's clothing."

"I never thought of you as a woman, wall-breaker. I tell you, there's no use trying to escape. Next time, I'll sew your whole body to the back seat."

Before she knew it, a knife appeared in Fushimi's palm. When she thought about it, she remembered that this man was also a concealed weapon user.

"Alright."

Hirasaka raised both hands as if she was giving up.

"Cancel the plan to kill the enemy. It's impossible. So what do you want from me?"

Fushimi snorted and waved his hand, and the knife disappeared like a magic trick. Then, he said...

"I'm going to be a ranker. Help me with that."

As expected, she was surprised.

But once she got past the initial shock, a thought came to her: "That must be so.". Fushimi's actions were clearly a rebellion against "Scepter 4". In that case, Fushimi should have given up on the Blue Clan, so it was only natural for him to run to "Jungle".

Hirasaka said...

"If it's the second time, is betrayal something you're good at? Even I frown."

"Don't lie, you say it's wrong because it's against morality. Your parents seem to have seen through your true nature."

Of course, Douhan was not a name given to her by her parents.

But that didn't matter. Hirasaka asked.

"What are my benefits?"

"I got you out of jail."

"Do you want me to return the favor? Unfortunately, I don't remember turning into a crane."

"I know, you can't follow me without millet dumplings."

Saying that, Fushimi blurted out something.

She received it reflexively. Of course, it was not a millet dumpling. It was a wad of rubber-bound bills. 500,000, guessed by touch.

"Is it a deposit?"

"If the mission is successful, I will give you the same reward. In return, all the points earned are mine."

Hirasaka thought fast.

Exchanging points for cash violates the "Jungle" rules. However, there are loopholes in any rule, and even though two people completed the quest, there are often situations where only one person gets points. You can help one without accepting the quest. So if the other checks it with cash, he is effectively buying points with money.

A million per mission, not a bad amount. However, drinking only in "not bad" conditions would not be a business.

"A million, regardless of the difficulty of the mission. That's not worth it."

Fushimi responded flatly.

"I will generate incentives based on the difficulty level. When I rank up, it will come with a bonus."

1,000,000 is the minimum guaranteed amount and the incentive is negotiable. It was perfect, or rather, it was definitely a delightful piece of work. Hirasaka thought for a few seconds and decided that there was no point in throwing it any further. Instead of sticking around and getting concessions, it will be more profitable to stay in a short and long relationship.

"Alright."

Facing Hirasaka, who briefly agreed, Fushimi nodded and started the engine.

Hirasaka asked while she was a bit surprised.

"No way, from now on?"

"What do you think of that 500,000? I already sent you the mission details. It's an easy job, so there's no incentive."

Saying that, Fushimi started the van.

Inside the trembling car, Hirasaka pressed the switch on her neck. A full-face tactical mask covered her head. A glowing green HUD appeared in front of her and various information was projected onto her retina.

"Work.", she murmured into her mask.

Hirasaka is a professional. There is a precise calculation formula behind the action, and it is not moved by emotions.

Still, this situation brought a kind of excitement to Hirasaka. She could work. It was the only thing in her empty life that gave Hirasaka a feeling similar to joy.

Feeling the electricity of "Jungle" running through her body, Hirasaka slowly began to read the details of the mission.

++++++++++

Neko was gone.

After the "Decisive Battle at Mihashira Tower" ended that day, and after she disappeared due to recognition tampering, she never appeared again. It was the same when he returned to School Island, and no matter how many times he called her, never got a single answer.

"Where did she go? No way..."

Shiro smiled and shook his head at Kuro who frowned in concern.

"No. Neko is close, because this island is her home."

Although there was no wind, he felt the rustling of the leaves and the branches of the trees. Neko was close. She was probably close enough to hear their voices.

"Then why doesn't she appear in front of us?"

At Kuro's question, Shiro made a slightly sad face.

"...I wonder if she is afraid of us."

Emotions are everything to her. Anger, sadness, joy and fear. Get closer to comfort and move away from fear. That's how she lived her whole life.

Not long ago, her peace was with Shiro.

It was different now.

Shiro has become an object of fear for her. That's because Shiro has realized the root of Neko's fear.

What Neko fears the most is "Ameno Miyabi".

Her real name. The real me of her. She is terrified of who she really is.

Not that Neko understands why she's afraid of him. Of course, Shiro doesn't know either. If Neko herself doesn't understand how she ended up in that state, no one can.

But at that moment, the image of a scared, trembling and cowering Neko broke his heart.

Shiro looked away from Kuro and slowly looked around him. Somewhere in that field of vision, Neko could be. Maybe not. Using the power of the "King", it is easy to remove the disguise from her. But doing so would not solve anything.

Instead, Shiro raised his voice.

"You should go to Kukuri. She's not scary, right? So, when you've calmed down, can you come back? I want to talk to you, Neko."

There was no answer. The trees were quiet. Kuro lowered his eyes pitifully.

Still, Shiro muttered under his breath.

"...I'll be waiting."

Then he walked away. To the student dormitory, to the place where Shiro was, to the place where Kuro and Neko should return.

++++++++++

"Eeeh?!"

The reason she unintentionally let out a voice was because there was someone in her room, which should have been empty. A student dormitory where the students of Gakuenjima live. After classes were over for the day, Yukizome Kukuri found that "lump" when she returned home humming.

The lump was in her bed. She was using a futon. She knows that she is a person, but she doesn't know who she is. As far as Kukuri knows, however, there is only one person who would likely do such a thing.

That is to say...

"...Wagahai-chan? What are you doing?"

The "lump" collapsed. From the mouth of the futon, from the dark shadow, only a glimpse of blue eyes peeked out.

"...Alright."

"Eh?"

"I'm Neko."

Her voice was tinged with tears.

With a small sigh, Kukuri put her school bag on the ground. As she sat on the bed, the ''lump'' began to move. Kukuri asked kindly.

"Did you fight with Kuro-kun?"

The "lump" moved again. She shook her head. Kukuri continued, placing her palm along the back of the futon.

"So, Shiro-kun?"

She moved a little more this time. She denied it even more than before. Knowing it wasn't a fight between the two of them, Kukuri let her gaze wander through the air.

"Well, then..."

Saying that, Kukuri remembered that she didn't know anything else about Neko.

Both Kuro and Neko live in a different world than Kukuri. The two are not students at the school, but for some reason they are mysterious beings who have settled on that island. Recently, a boy named Isana Yashiro joined them. She knew they weren't ordinary people, but Kukuri didn't quite understand who they were.

When she was searching for the words, the "lump" came to her.

"It's frightening."

"Eh?"

Wide-eyed, Kukuri asked the futon.

"What are you afraid of?"

"......"

The futon moved. as if trembling After a brief silence, she heard a muffled voice.

"Ameno Miyabi."

She had no idea what she was talking about.

"Hmm, I see..."

Kukuri crossed her arms and thought deeply. It's like asking a baby. She didn't understand what Neko meant. She has no way of expressing what she wants to say. Or maybe she doesn't want to say it in the first place. The only way to fill in the missing information is by marking each one.

"Why are you afraid of that?"

After a while, Kukuri asked.

"There is a door."

A door. Is it some kind of metaphor? Kukuri blinked and waited patiently for the word of the ''lump''.

"I hear a voice coming from the door. It's calling me. Her name is Ameno Miyabi..."

Kukuri took a deep breath.

She calling her. Does that mean "Ameno Miyabi" is Neko?

As if she read Kukuri's thoughts, the ''lump'' moved violently.

"No! Wagahai is a cat! It's not like that!"

Neko is an emotional girl. Jumping, crying and laughing, she has seen that kind of thing many times.

However, it was the first time she had seen Neko deny something so desperately.

A conflict was born within Kukuri. She doesn't know much about Neko. She might be safe to say that she doesn't know anything. And yet, is it okay to say something to Neko now? Surely Neko is afraid of a fundamental "something". Also, is she okay if she carelessly touches her?

No.

It is neither good nor bad.

She wanted to do it.

This innocent girl is scared to the point of death. She wrapped in a futon and snuggled up. If so, she would love to help her. Those were Kukuri's true feelings.

"Well, the door is..."

As if groping, Kukuri twisted the words.

"Isn't it possible to throw it somewhere? How about we throw it in the sea or in the mountains?"

Neko shook her head at the trivial idea.

"Impossible..."

"Well, what about opening it? If you try to open it unexpectedly, you might wonder what it is."

Once again, Neko denied.

"No..."

Laughing softly, Kukuri patted Neko's back.

"I see. That's true. You can't open scary things by yourself. Fine, then…"

Kukuri said what came to her mind.

"What if you're with someone?"

"......"

"Kuro-kun or Shiro-kun. If it's those two, can you open it together? That way, it's much less scary than opening it yourself."

The "lump" didn't even move.

Just when she was wondering if she said something wrong, Neko whispered.

"You can stay?"

"Eh?"

"Even if I'm not a cat, will Shiro and Kuro still be together?"

She wished could tell her that it's normal.

But saying that, Kukuri was not irresponsible, nor was she familiar with those two. She doesn't know what kind of people Yatogami Kuro and Isana Yashiro really are.

That's why Kukuri said...

"What do you think, Wagahai-chan? So, do you think those two will break up?"

After a short pause, the "lump" began to move.

Seeing that, Kukuri smiled.

"I see. Good for you."

"......"

The mouth of the futon, from the shadow inside, peered out blue and gold eyes. When she blinked once and opened her eyelids, the tears had already disappeared.

++++++++++

She heard a voice.

From inside the closet. through the door. The voice kept calling her name.

"Ameno Miyabi."

The owner of that voice was not alone.

An old man's voice yelled as if he was crazy.

The voices of a man and a woman cursing the monster and asking it to return the child.

The voice of a young man, intelligent and cold.

But they were all different. She knew it wasn't true.

"Ameno Miyabi."

Actually, it's her voice.

Wagahai's voice. Her voice.

She was the one who made the door and pushed everything through it. She forgot about it. After all, Wagahai is a cat. Cats do not think about anything, do not remember, do not worry, they just need to sleep comfortably in a safe place. Because that's all she wanted, she turned into a cat.

Even though that was all she wanted.

"Ameno Miyabi."

She heard a voice on the other side of the door. She heard her own voice. "Ameno Miyabi" is called "Ameno Miyabi". She was calling Wagahai.

Maybe she could open the door, because she was the one who closed it. Cancel recognition manipulation ability. It's easy because she's done it before with Shiro.

But then she doesn't know what will happen.

What would those two say if she was selfish? Will they accept her as she is?

Or like those people, will they fear her and turn away from her?

If that happens, she is certain that she will never be able to find peace again.

That's the only thing Neko was afraid of.

"Oh."

Her heart jumped a lot, and Neko reflexively jumped high.

With wide blue and gold eyes, she Neko saw him.

On the bedroom ceiling. A green parrot perched on a windswept water tower.

The entire body is covered with hair. A real cat would have curled her fat tail. Fear and chill numbed Neko's judgment.

Suddenly, the parrot spread its wings and screamed.

"Whoa! Stupid cat, scared, scared!"

Her face turned red. Anger overcame fear and Neko threatened Kotosaka with her entire body.

"There's no such thing as scary! Stupid!"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah!"

Kotosaka laughed triumphantly, and Neko shifted into a battle stance. Just when she thought she was going to catch him, rip off his wings, and dunk him in the sauce, Kotosaka's demeanor changed in an instant.

"Please stop, Kotosaka. I came looking for her today. Don't make her angry."

"Whoah!"

After a sharp cry, Kotosaka fell silent. Sensing a touch of intelligence behind his camera gaze, Neko braced herself.

"Eh?"

Of course, Neko knows the names of the others. Even so, the reason she asked was to delay the main topic, even if it was a bit.

The parrot nodded and answered.

"Right. It's my first time speaking like this, so let me introduce myself again. My name is Hisui Nagare. I am the "Green King". What is your name?"

A name. It's nothing, it was accompanied by the pain of spitting fire.

"Wagahai... I'm Neko..."

"Oh, really?"

Neko froze at the question which he immediately returned to.

"Is your name really Neko? No, that's not the right question. Do you really think your name is Neko?"

"......"

"In that case, I'll teach you. Your name is Ameno Miyabi. The only daughter of Ameno Taichi and Ameno Hinako, who lived on 1-3-21 Higashi Naebara, Naebara City, Kanagawa Prefecture."

Neko certainly remembered the feeling of something entwined under her feet.

"14 years ago. You were 2 years old at the time and miraculously survived the Kagutsu Incident in southern Kanto. Perhaps your super power was awakened at that time."

That grabbed a leg like it was mud, crawled like an ivy and tried to bind Neko's body. She was afraid and wanted to run away, but she couldn't move her body.

Neko knew what that was. The true nature of what she herself had confined and bound.

It's called "past."

"You lost your parents and used your cognitive manipulation to survive. Even so, you were still young, so maybe it was instinctive. You manipulated the perceptions of a couple, and underneath them..."

"Stop."

Neko said that to Nagare, who was talking about her own "past" with a machine voice that spoke clearly of the record nonchalantly.

Surprisingly, Nagare suddenly stopped speaking. Kotosaka tilted his head curiously.

"You really don't remember. I get it. Apparently, you can even manipulate your own perception."

"I don't know, Wagahai is like that..."

"Of course. You've even sealed the memory of sealing your memory. It's natural that you don't know. I also didn't come here to talk about the past. My origin is in the past, but I always look to the future."

Then Kotosaka spread his wings.

As if he extended.

"I came looking for you. Ameno Miyabi, or simply Neko. We are compatriots."

Neko blinked slowly, looked at Nagare and asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's put it another way. We are comrades."

At those words, Neko violently shook her head. She looked up with her blue and gold eyes like a kitten cowering in fear and threatening her enemies.

"No. I'm not your friend. You bully Kuro and Shiro! I hate those kind of people!"

"You don't like people bullying those two. Is it because they're your friends?"

"That's right! Shiro and Kuro are Wagahai's friends!"

"Even if they know your true identity, will those two still be your friends?"

Like an awl, Nagare's voice accurately pierced Neko's weak and soft parts.

"Ameno Miyabi. Or Neko. That's what you fear the most. Fearing your true identity would be known, you kept your true identity away from yourself. It must have been painful to be called a monster by those you believed in. I feel sorry for you."

Her chest ached as if she had been stabbed. Breathing became rapid and shallow. Not knowing why that happened, Neko's face twisted in pain and fear.

"Is there any guarantee that those two won't do that? Any guarantee that they won't run away from you after finding out who you really are?"

Yes. That was terrifying.

She was sure that she would be fine. That's what she wanted to believe. It was easy and logical to think so. Shiro forgave Neko. She gave him a fake personality and memories, manipulated him conveniently, even so, Shiro told her that she could stay by his side.

But, now, if that didn't happen...

Just thinking about it made her body shudder. Even if she knows it's impossible, it's like there's a physical obstacle and her thoughts stop moving forward.

As if he huddled against Neko's fear, Nagare whispered softly.

"I would not do that."

Neko looked at Nagare.

"Because I already know your true identity. How did you do that? Why did you do that? Because I know more than you do."

"......"

"Neko. Or Ameno Miyabi. We are compatriots. We are friends. If you are a monster, I am a ghost. I died because of that incident, and then I was reborn because of that incident."

Monster. The words that once drove her to loneliness strangely no longer scared Neko.

That's probably because Nagare is telling the truth. It's not because he's blaming himself or cursing, but because he believes he's a true partner.

"But I deny my own words. I am not a ghost, I am a human. You are not a monster either, you are a human. To survive, to pave the way, we will use all the power we have. If that is not human, then all the humans in this world would be inhuman."

With his intellectual tone intact, Nagare's words took on a tinge of warmth. It's as if he was silently revealing his hidden feelings that he had been thinking about for a long time.

Neko muttered in a weak voice.

"I am a cat..."

"Yes. You can also be a cat. That's what it means to be human. It doesn't matter if there is someone who will become the "King". It's okay to have humans turn into cats. It's okay to have a parrot to be your friend. That's the kind of world I'm aiming for."

At those words, Neko's eyes widened.

The first thing that came to her mind was a warm world. No one would harass Neko there. They would not throw stones at her or call her a monster. Because there is a world where everyone has turned into a monster. Manipulate people's memories, spit flames, and fly freely. In a world where everyone is like this, Wagahai, she could still be a cat.

#k #k project #reisi munakata #k rok #isana yashiro #neko #yatogami kuro #silver clan #homura #suoh mikoto #homra #fushimi saruhiko #yata misaki #douhan hirasaka #jungle #scepter 4 #seri awashima #nagare hisui #kotosaka

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