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biolumien · 5 months ago

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Hi Hi! first time requesting like this and I just recently finished watching the latest episode of Kaiju number 8. I was wondering if your could write something for Vice Captain Hoshina.

I was thinking something along the lines of a reincarnation storyline? Maybe Reader is a renowned painter or something. And one day they come across a dream of Hoshina in their past life and they paint his face. And Hoshina is suddenly bombarded by a few officers/cadets a few days later about a sudden article blowing up online with a painting that had extremely similar structure to his face. And maybe they'd end up meeting because of it?

I love your writing. Particularly the one with the glasses reader that I read a few days back. You're free to change things as you see fit. And I'm sure whatever you come up with will be very nice. Sorry if my words are confusing. I don't speak english language that well. 😊👌 Thank you if you decide to write for this ask.

notes: ok the way i am. actually obsessed with this i hope you enjoy!!

every 'one line' drawn.

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings, i think wc: 1768

in your dreams, you always see the same face. red eyes watching your face, purple hair framed over his face and the feeling of a callused hand on your hand, on your cheek. and every time he leans into kiss you, you find yourself pressing your face closer to his, as if desperate, and then you wake up.

and when you wake up, you always feel the telltale trickle of a tear down your face, the feeling of salt on your tongue.

there’s no time to wonder what the dreams ever mean, what with your job as a painter. you lived commission to commission—and while your customers were always high brow and paid generously, still meant that you couldn’t be lost in daydreams forever.

and in your studio, with the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil, with your hands inevitably smeared with oil paints, it was easy to forget the stranger whose hands felt rough and weary, and yet held your face with measured gentleness. it was easy to forget him—up until you went back to bed, and you’d always be back in the same dream.

“i keep seeing you,” you murmur in your dream. “who are you?”

the man laughs.

he seems sad, for a second.

“a dear friend,” he responds. you see it on his face, the way his lips twist at his words, that it’s not quite true. and he leans in again, watching your face. “it’s okay if you don’t remember me.”

“but i do,” you say in protest. you think you remember this face. “i want to.”

you must remember this face, surely—this face that, upon your words, looks sadder. and then you wonder if he’s even real—or if this is simply your subconscious, saddened that you can’t remember. saddened that your mind replays this moment, again and again, a repeated brushstroke pulling open the blank canvas underneath.

“we all want things we can’t have, sometimes,” the man says.

he leans into kiss you,

and you jolt up out of bed, awakening to a phone call from your manager.

“hello…?” you mumble into your phone, pressing it against your cheek as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “it’s rare you call me randomly like this…”

“tis no random call,” your manager responds. “you’ve received a request to exhibit some of your works from a museum. will you do it? i hear the pay’s pretty good.”

“mmm… any specific theme?” you ask.

“not really. they said to let your imagination go wild.”

“hm.”

you touch your lips, and when you close your eyes, you see a hint of those crimson eyes again.

“alright. i think i’ve got a pretty good muse this time,” you say.

[…]

hoshina wasn’t exactly someone who was very in the know about art. his job, for one, meant that it’s not like he would exactly be interested in art in general, and it’s not like he was even spending his days off on art museum trips or admiring the local art scene.

so why was it that everyone seemed all abuzz about art today?

and why did it seem like there were more eyes on him than before? not that he particularly abhorred attention or anything, but the eyes seemed to be looking at his face specifically.

his eyes flit to some of the new officer recruits—iharu, reno, kafka… fuck, even haruichi and aoi? what the hell was going on—huddled around a laptop. haruichi’s brow furrows as he stares at the illuminated screen, and then flits up to look at hoshina. when hoshina stares back, harder, haruichi’s gaze immediately ducks back to the laptop.

okay.

well, something was definitely up.

hoshina strolls over to the recruits, who immediately seem to start panicking—the panic is written across kafka’s face more obviously than the others, and reno elbows kafka in the side.

“what’s all this about? if you’ve got time to huddle you’ve got time to run laps—” hoshina starts, leaning over at the screen before—

“about that, vice captain,” iharu says.

hoshina’s in stunned silence staring at the screen, because… isn’t that—

“holy shit,” hoshina says.

“holy shit indeed,” haruichi says grimly.

on haruichi’s laptop screen is a painting of— him. hoshina’s damned face, brows gentle and a softened smile on his face. it was a beautiful painting, and yet—there was something sad about the smile, the brows belying deep sorrow.

“this painter’s pretty well-known, too, aren’t they?” kafka asks. “for like… the psychedelic stuff.”

“no,” reno says. “they’re like our modern-day monet or something. impressionist paintings.”

“impressi-what? how do you know this much about art, reno?” iharu asks, wrapping his arm around reno’s neck in a headlock. reno coughs, slapping iharu’s arm.

“shut up,” reno chokes out, but even as the bickering picks up, hoshina’s gaze is still transfixed on the painting.

it’s him. no doubt about it.

“i’ve never talked to them before,” hoshina says after a moment. at once the arguments rattle to a halt, but in the empty relief of silence is the carved truth—that the painting is definitely of him, and its painter was a person who he’d never talked to before in his life.

“the artist is going to be doing a panel about their exhibition soon,” haruichi says, glancing up at hoshina. “i think they can get me a ticket if i ask.”

“… just don’t expect me to lighten your laps around the training course,” hoshina says with a chuckle.

[…]

you hated speaking in front of an audience. cliche, of course, the introverted artist that squirrels away in in their studio—but that was often your reality. you liked to say you wanted your work to ‘speak for itself’, as it were, so you didn’t often make public appearances.

but your most recent exhibition, featuring the painting of your mysterious dream visitor, created far more buzz than you could have asked for. suddenly everyone and anyone wanted an answer as for who your muse was, why he had a very striking resemblance to soshiro hoshina of the japan anti-kaiju defense force’s third division, and had you gotten permission from hoshina to do it? did you have a specific message surrounding your work?

“just stick to the script,” your manager says to you. “i talked it through with some of the reporters and i wrote some answers for you if you’re scared.” he hands you a slip of paper, and your eyes scan the page, and you swallow the lump in forming in your throat.

“i shouldn’t have done the painting after all,” you say.

it was strange. in the days and weeks you’d worked on the painting, you hadn’t seen your muse in your dreams at all. you’d been forced to rely on only the memory of the dream–which only seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier until it became barely a wisp. and now, in those ensuing weeks that the painting has been on exhibition, you almost felt embarrassed of the painting–its vague subject matter might have been charming and a little kitsch, but charming and a little kitsch wasn’t supposed to garner this much attention.

“nonsense,” your manager says. “it’s a wonderful painting.” he pushes you by the back, gently urging you forward. “they’re ready for you.”

you push past the door separating you from the reporters–and then are immediately flashbanged with cameras and lights, and jumbling, layered voices creating a discordant symphony that made you wince.

“um. thank you… for…” you wince as your grip fumbles on your microphone, nearly dropping it, the feedback screeching across speakers. “um. sorry. i’m not exactly the best public speaker–my repertoire of events… like this, isn’t many. but thank you for attending this panel… surrounding my exhibition of my latest work. i’ll answer… a few questions.”

the reporters looked like a jumbled blob for the most part–a thrumming organism of similar faces that melted together into one homogenous mess, a splotch of badly-mixed paint on the palette that you’d scrape away with a knife and discard.

reciting your manager’s written responses wasn’t the hard part. as you continued to banter, your eyes swept across the crowd.

what were you even doing here?

you wanted to crawl back to your studio, already, and go back to painting. at least then the idea that you’d dreamed up some man who bore a striking resemblance to someone who already existed would fade away with time. and then your eyes found that telltale shade of crimson and purple–for just a moment. and you think his eyes meet yours, too–crimson eyes the exact shade as the one in your dreams.

his eyes widen.

“... as you were saying?” a reporter’s words float back to your ears, ephemeral, and you pause.

“can we… no more questions.” you shake your head, finding your vision swimming, blurring, and you raise a hand wiping tears from your face. “sorry. something just… came up–”

and you push into the crowd, trying to find the face from your dreams.

that had to be him, right? his face? it was like as soon as you saw him, the underpainting of your memories flowed back to you–a heartaching loss pounding in your chest. something was wrong. something was missing, because you’d forgotten–and now that you’d remembered it, it hurt.

“i’m sorry,” you say.

“you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” the man says to you, and leans in to kiss you. “i’ll find you again in the next life.”

“i’ll remember you,” you say.

the man watches you, a somewhat sad look on his face.

you press your thumb to the corner of his lip.

“and when i do, i’ll do something big. to capture your attention. and then your eyes will be on me forever.”

you finally manage to catch the man in the crowd, and you realize you’ve seen him before. only once or twice, though–on a small poster or on television. soshiro hoshina, of the third division. you did know this man–but just barely.

he lets out a surprised noise as soon as you collide with him, and you gasp breathlessly.

“i’m sorry,” you say, looking up at hoshina. “i just… have we…”

“met?” hoshina answers your question, cocking his head, blinking down at you.

“yes,” you say. “i think… i think so. maybe. we… you look familiar.”

hoshina blinks, and then smiles.

it’s so different than the way he smiled at you in your dream. the corners of his lips quirk up, his eyebrows relax almost as he watches you.

“i thought so too,” hoshina says, and you hear relief in his voice. “so… um. hi.”

“hi,” you respond, and he laughs.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader

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arakkne · 4 months ago

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Gender apartheid: oppression of women should be made a crime against humanity – feminist academic explains why

Published July 15th, 2014, written by Penelope Andrews

"Crimes against humanity are occurring with impunity around the globe; from Myanmar to Sudan, Ukraine and elsewhere. And yet, unlike international treaties for the crimes of genocide, torture, apartheid and forced disappearances, there isn’t a treaty specific to crimes against humanity.

That lack is now being remedied.

The International Law Commission, a UN expert body, has submitted draft articles for a treaty to the UN’s Sixth Committee. This is the main forum for considering legal questions in the UN General Assembly. The intention is to give countries more legal tools to hold accountable those who commit crimes against humanity. It is expected that the treaty process will conclude in October 2024.

The new treaty may include special protection for women.

We believe good journalism is good for democracy and necessary for it.

A group of women activists is lobbying the committee to consider including in the treaty a new definition aimed at protecting women against all forms of oppression. They are advocating for a definition of this discrimination as “gender apartheid”. The idea is that it would track the definition of racial apartheid by replacing the word “race” with “gender”.

Apartheid (Afrikaans for “apartness”) policies were codified in South Africa between 1948 and 1954. The ideology divided South Africans on the basis of race in all spheres of life.

The lobbyists argue that the international community responded comprehensively to racial apartheid after the Apartheid Convention made it a crime in 1973. This forced the South African apartheid state to be held accountable for the crime. It also imposed an obligation on UN member states to eradicate the institutionalised systematic oppression and domination of black South Africans.

Read more: Ordinary white South Africans and apartheid – bound to a racist system they helped prop up

As an academic who has researched and written extensively on racial and gender equality, I fully support broadening the definition of the crime of apartheid to include gender. I believe this is necessary given the persistence and ubiquity of structural discrimination and violence against women in the world.

I first made a case for this in my 2012 book From Cape Town to Kabul: Rethinking Strategies for Pursuing Women’s Human Rights. I argued that when one reads the Apartheid Convention closely, and substitutes “gender” for “race”, the situation of Afghan women, in particular, is identical to the plight of black South Africans under apartheid.

I argued that thinking about constructing a genuine alternative to the realities of women’s lives in Afghanistan was to consider the way the international community confronted the eradication of apartheid in South Africa. It would enable a structured global approach responsive to the institutionalised systems of domination and oppression of women, girls and the LGBTQI+ community.

Codifying “gender apartheid” could go much further than protecting Afghan women and girls.

Great progress has been made in the pursuit of gender equality and in stemming gender-based violence. I believe that codifying gender apartheid under international law is an essential component of that continued progress.

It could offer significant relief to many victims and survivors who otherwise would not be entitled to adequate recourse from the international community and from states. It could also lead to a more effective and concerted international response to gender-based oppression.

Fighting gender apartheid

The crime of gender apartheid stands out as unique and pernicious in intent and consequence. It is what legal scholar Patricia Williams has referred to as “spirit murder”. That is a system of dehumanisation, erasure, oppression, domination and persecution.

Read more: Students on the frontline: South Africa and the US share a history of protest against white supremacy

The Taliban’s ever deepening and institutionalised oppression of Afghan women and girls is the most vivid illustration of the case.

Multiple UN experts, member states and Afghan women’s rights defenders have warned of the deteriorating situation of women and girls in Afghanistan. The concerns became more pronounced after the UN Deputy Secretary-General Amina J. Mohammed on 12 January 2023 warned the international community that in Afghanistan,

unprecedented, systemic attacks on women’s and girls’ rights and the flouting of international obligations are creating gender-based apartheid.

A sign in Johannesburg in 1948 saying 'non-European' people are not allowed to use a lift reserved for Europeans (whites).

Apartheid signage in Johannesburg in March 1948. AFP via Getty Images

In September 2023, UN Women executive director Sima Bahous called on member states to support an intergovernmental process to codify gender apartheid under international law. She said that

the tools the international community has at its disposal were not created to respond to mass, state-sponsored gender oppression. This systematic and planned assault on women’s rights is foundational to the Taliban’s vision of state and society and it must be named, defined, and proscribed in our global norms, so that we can respond appropriately.

Why the argument holds water

One question that needs answering is whether apartheid can be separated from its association with South Africa. Can we think of apartheid as a crime against humanity that can be removed from its racial context?

The evidence from Afghanistan, for example, suggests the answer is a resounding “yes”.

There is a precedent for this. The crime of genocide originated as a term to describe the crimes in Nazi-occupied Europe in the second world war. It was then applied to genocides that occurred elsewhere in the world, like Rwanda, Cambodia and Sudan. In the same way apartheid ought not to be confined to its racial origins.

Read more: South Africa’s genocide case against Israel is the country's proudest foreign policy moment in three decades

International opponents of racial apartheid played a significant role in bolstering South African anti-apartheid activists. In the same way the backing of the global community is crucial to advancing gender justice and women’s human rights. It is particularly necessary to support frontline defenders of women’s human rights who challenge gender apartheid at great risk to themselves.

As the government of Malta noted in its 2023 written comments on the Draft Crimes Against Humanity Convention:

[t]he codification of the crime of gender apartheid will enable victims and survivors – present and future – to hold perpetrators to account for the totality of crimes committed by systematized oppression which the crime of gender persecution alone cannot and does not capture.

This view ought to be widely endorsed by the international community."

#i like the using of gender apartheid and hope it can become more standard #gender apartheid #feminism #feminist news #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do touch #global feminism

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reallyromealone · 5 months ago

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I’ve been soooo obsessed with the babyhaul series.So,I was wondering if you could do an ep where the babe finally develops his quirk.Aizawa dropped the babe at the U.A daycare and a few hours pass and he gets called to the office bc his little one developed their quirk (You can pick the quirk bc I have no idea what it should be)

Feel free to ignore this <333

Title: quirk

Fandom: bnha

Characters: Yamada, Aizawa, Nedzu

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Yamada x Aizawa

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader, fluff

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Quirks were fun.

Especially when you get a call that your toddler rearrange the structural design of a block into a pile of sand, causing the daycare staff to have to call the parent to said daycare.

"What did he do?" Aizawa asked exasperated as he and his husband sat with their three year old, (name) sporting a cool quirk suppressant bracelet for children as he played with his papas fingers and wedding band "well it seems he developed his quirk, he turned a wood block into sand and then his cookie into a ducky toy and began crying when he didn't have his cookie anymore" the head of the U.A daycare explained and the two teachers shared a glance.

(Name) Had his biological father's quirk.

"Thank you for telling us, if you could excuse us" Aizawa lifted the little one In his arms as they went to Nedzu, they knew this time would come but god they wished they had a bit more time. (Name) Was confused as his dad's looked serious "papa! I got my quirk!" (Name) Tried to make conversation with Yamada who smiled down at his son that was in Aizawas hold "yeah, now we gotta see uncle Nedzu to teach you how to use it" (name) looked confused but just went with it, uncle Nedzu was the smartest guy ever so...

"Uncle zuzu! I got my quirk!" (Name) Said excitedly as he was freed from his dad's hold and set in the ground, waddling/ running towards the principal "So I have been told little mouse, very exciting" Nedzu said handing a cookie to the child who went around his desk to see him properly since he wasn't able to see above the desk.

"The commission isn't to know about his abilities so we can work that to our advantage" (name) was sitting on the carpet with his toys, playing happily while the adults put their plan into action, the daycare trained and signed enough NDA's to make a judge sweat "We will begin quirk training immediately, if he can do something like that without breaking a sweat now... That's something to keep close tabs on"

It was well known that quirks could be more powerful through generations, evolving into something even bigger than itself and (name) had no reaction to using his quirk even by accident, turning wood to sand wasn't an easy feat after all.

"It will only be for an hour a day, he is still quite young" Nedzu showed them folders he had prepared, a very cohesive and airtight plan that had the parents impressed "there's even snack time" Aizawa said with a huff, it fit in for their pick-up time for Eri and everything.

"And if course I'll be there in case something happens" Aizawa said looking back at his son who was in his own world.

That night, Aizawa and Yamada sat with their tot and explained a little bit about his quirk, (name) was already mentally developing faster than they were expecting, they were sure that Kisaki did something to cause that as the boy seemed to be understanding things faster and better than his peers.

"I can make cookies..." The power (name) realized he has was a horrifying realization to the parents who couldn't help but laugh at the fact that making cookies was his first instinct.

"Use that power wisely" Yamada snorted as they went home, they had some things to order and have lunch, (name)s choice.

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #yamazawa #child male reader #child reader #male reader #x male reader #x reader

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bigcollections · 11 months ago

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CARSALESMENİNFO - GOLD

Exploring Car Salesman Earnings: Understanding the Salary Statistics If you've ever wondered about the financial side of the automotive sales industry, you're not alone. Car salesmen play a crucial role in the vehicle purchasing process, and understanding their earnings can provide valuable insights. In this article, we'll delve into the world of car sales salary statistics, covering their average income, salary statistics, and factors that influence their compensation. 1) How much do car salesmen make The income of car salesmen can vary based on several factors, including experience, location, dealership size, and individual sales performance. On average, a car salesman's earnings typically consist of a base salary plus commissions. The base salary serves as a steady income, while commissions are tied to the number of vehicles sold. New or less-experienced car salesmen may start with a lower base salary, while seasoned professionals or those working at high-end dealerships may command a higher base. Commissions, often calculated as a percentage of the vehicle's sale price, can significantly boost earnings, especially if the salesman meets or exceeds sales targets. 2) Car Salesman Earnings: Breaking Down the Numbers To provide a general overview, the average base salary for a car salesman in the United States ranges from $20,000 to $40,000 per year. However, the potential for additional income through commissions can substantially increase overall earnings. Commissions typically range from 20% to 25% of the gross profit per vehicle sold. With the average profit per vehicle hovering around $1,000 to $1,500, successful salesmen have the potential to earn significant commissions. Top performers who consistently meet or exceed sales targets may enjoy additional bonuses and incentives. 3) Car Sales Salary Statistics: Influencing Factors Several factors influence the salary statistics of car salesmen: Location: The cost of living and demand for vehicles in a specific area can impact earnings. Salesmen in regions with a higher cost of living or strong demand for cars may earn more. Experience: Seasoned car salesmen who have honed their skills and built a client base over the years often command higher salaries and commissions. Dealership Size and Reputation: Salesmen working at larger, well-established dealerships or those specializing in luxury vehicles may have access to a broader customer base and potentially higher commissions. Sales Performance: The number of vehicles sold directly correlates with earnings. High sales performance and exceeding targets can result in increased commissions and bonuses. In conclusion, car salesman earnings are dynamic and influenced by various factors. Aspiring car sales professionals should consider these elements when entering the industry and be prepared for a compensation structure that rewards hard work, sales acumen, and customer satisfaction. Visit CarSalesMenInfo for more in-depth insights into the world of car sales, including tips for success, industry trends, and advice for both aspiring and experienced car salesmen.

#Car #Car salesman

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

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This is probably silly, but how do I figure out a ending for my story?

Figuring Out an Ending

Not silly at all! :)

To figure out your ending, you need to:

1 - Understand your story's conflict. Stories are driven by either an external conflict, an internal conflict, or a combination of both. An external conflict is a problem in the protagonist's world that must be resolved. An internal conflict is a problem in the character's self that must be solved.

2 - Understand story structure. Basic story structure looks like this:

The exposition is where you set up your character's "normal world." The inciting incident is the moment where your character is confronted by the problem within themselves or their world and must make a decision about how to solve the problem (goal). The rising action is their struggle to solve the problem by overcoming the obstacles thrown at them by the antagonistic force--usually the force that caused their problem in the first place. The climax is where they face off against the antagonistic force once and for all. The falling action is the dust settling post-climax, and the denouement shows where everything ends up.

3 - Understand what's going to change. Stories are ultimately journeys of transformation, whether it's the protagonist who changes or the world around them--or both. In stories that are fully or partly character-driven (internal conflict), there's usually a character change arc, meaning the character changes as a result of the events of the story. In stories that are fully plot-driven (external conflict) there's often a static arc, meaning that the character's world or people around them change as a result of the story. And in stories that are both character-driven and plot-driven, you can have both.

4. Having a good understanding of #1 through #3 will give you a general understanding of what your ending needs to be. To figure out the specifics, remember the ending of your story should accomplish the following:

-- Provide a snapshot of your character’s life after all the changes brought on by the events that unfolded because of the inciting incident.

-- Let us know where the supporting characters ended up, if that’s not already apparent.

-- Illustrate how your character has changed, or how they’ve helped someone else change or changed their environment.

-- Mirror the opening in some way so that the reader is reminded of where things were at the beginning versus where they are at the end.

You may find that your ending doesn't come fully to mind until you write through the first draft. It may happen organically, or you may have to tease it out. Either way, having everything worked out ahead of time can help you get there.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

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#writing tips #writing help #wqaadvice

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handlewithcarezine · 1 month ago

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HANDLE WITH CARE VOL. 3 — CALL FOR ARTISTS

Handle With Care zine is now seeking artists for the next volume! We are looking for about 20 artists for this edition.

Important information, boundaries, and legal stuff:

Submission deadline for Vol 3. is January 8th, 2025. If you are accepted but unable to make the deadline for whatever reason, please communicate with us! We are more than willing to be accommodating and figure something out.

The zine's physical dimension will be 6 inches wide, 8 inches tall (15,24 cm by 20,32 cm). Submissions should be in 300 DPI.

The loose theming of Vol 3. is Advertisements and posters. This theme is not strict and does not affect piece submission, but it will guide how we structure the zine as well as guide the aesthetics of the front cover and non-submission pages such as the table of contents and credits section. Feel free to go big and go bold with this theme, if you choose to engage with it! Show off your love, make the piece you would love to hang on your apartment walls!

Visual artists are welcome to submit an additional one-page written accompaniment to their visual artwork if they would like. Fully written works are currently capped to a maximum of five pages, though this may be adjusted once we have a rough idea what people are submitting.

Handle With Care is meant to celebrate raw objectum emotion and experiences, and meant to give these emotions a physical place in the world. We do not have a minimum skill level as a result.

However, we reserve the right to reject or ask for revisions on any submissions that make us uncomfortable, including any romantic depiction of an object that resembles a realistic feral animal or a human child. This zine is printed through a government-owned printing press. If your submission can be misconstrued as something far more concerning than just objectum sexuality by people who are not familiar with the community, it will be rejected for the peace of mind of everyone involved.

HWC is also strictly safe for work. Non-sexual nudity is allowed, although if it crosses a line we may ask for revisions.

All participants must be at least 18. Legal issues with using a minor's work and all that. Minors will be booted off the HWC discord, sorry! You are welcome to enter when you'll be legally an adult.

AI-generated submissions are also currently not allowed. We want to see work straight from objectum artists, not an objectum middleman commissioning ChatGPT for free and taking the credit.

HWC is non-profit. Physical copies are sold only to break even on printing and shipping. Any profit from donations will be re-invested in the zine or split evenly between all contributors.

Artists will retain all rights to their individual work, including copyright and being able to resell it. The zine owner (Ross Gillesby, in this case) is allowed to sell the pieces only in the bundle of the entire zine and not individually, and will not own any copyright to those pieces.

Zine organization and communication is done through a Discord server. If you are interested in submitting something for Handle With Care Vol. 3, please DM this tumblr or email [email protected] with:

What are you thinking of submitting? If it's a written work, how many pages do you estimate you'll need?

2. Social media or some other way to verify you are not a troll

We already have a cover artist. We currently have an artist maximum of 20 to 25. If there is no more room by the time you send in an application, we will put you on a priority list for Vol. 4.

We're very excited to work on a third volume of the zine!

-Ross and Crispy

#objectum #handle with care zine

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hiskillingjar · 17 days ago

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brother-and-sister bonding

Relationship: Ren Hana/MC Rating: Explicit Includes: Fauxcest, Hate Sex, Bratting, Sex Toys, Lactation Length: 5400+ words

a super generous and fun request for an anonymous user on ko-fi, thank you so much!

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

Life was easy for Ren.

He had a routine, he had a structure, he had a set of rules that he could abide by, day to day, to make sure he stayed alive and stayed sane.

In the mornings (or early afternoons, depending on how long he slept in for, how bad the night before had been for him), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, and then maybe, occupy his time with a new show (he got through his watch list in record time, these days) or some heavily filtered internet access.

At mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap in the armchair in the living room while he watched another show, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task, maybe the most!)

In the evenings, if he lasted that long, he’d make dinner, clean up after himself (again), and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again for the rest of time, forever.

Often what people didn’t tell those who were getting rehabilitated after a long duration of captivity, was just how difficult life was suddenly going to get for them.

After the period of attention-heavy coddling, even captives had to engage in the real world again, and many cracked under the pressure of just how hard being a person could be,

Captivity was, unfortunately, very easy for someone like Ren, despite the ever-present danger that threatened him for what felt like every minute of the day.

It was stable. It was routine. It was monotonous.

And though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a caged animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it within an inch of his life, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day, for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new toy had come in and fucked all of that up.

And hence why he was currently staring at his computer screen, some monotonous, cloying, fan-servicey type livestream happening in the background of his brooding, instead of making dinner for the evening like he usually did, all because she had so generously offered to do it in his stead.

He seethed silently to himself as he shoved off his headphones with a huff, the smell of sticky brown sauce and tofu making his nose twitch, potent even from all the way downstairs.

She was probably burning it, which just made him even angrier.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, his tail idly swaying with irritation (enough to make his computer chair spin to and fro). This was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade would give her whenever she presented the shitty dinner she had made to him, reminding Ren of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he would pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he would compliment her cooking (while he was sitting right there), commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way.

"Ren," She said brightly, jolting him out of his thoughts and pulling any lingering attention he might have had on the livestream away, as she poked her head around the door frame with a beaming smile, always sunshine and roses. "Dinner's ready!"

“Mmf,”

He didn’t respond immediately, at least not properly, his ears twitching irritably as he set his headphones on his desk, turning menacingly (or an attempt of menace, at least) in his computer chair and glaring at her for what felt like a solid thirty seconds of pregnant silence.

“What was that?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Um,” Her smile faltered slightly as she nudged the door open a little more. “I said dinner was ready. Black bean tofu and veggies.” She attempted another smile. “I’ve been at it all afternoon.”

Because you’re a lousy cook, he wanted to say, but he bit his lip to stop himself.

He knew he should have probably said something at least vaguely kind and grateful; a "thank you" or a "good work" or something like that. He knew that he should have attempted to express a least an approximation of sincere gratitude towards her effort, knew that because he had been conditioned into it.

But a knot in his stomach stopped him from feeling anything even close to gratitude, replaced by a curling spiral of…something else he couldn’t (wouldn’t) name.

"You didn’t need to come up here and tell me.” He eventually said as flatly as possible, turning back to his screen. “I’m not hungry.”

"Are you sure?" She asked, tilting her head thoughtfully with a little pout, her long hair running down her shoulders and covering her full chest. "I got a recipe from one of your cookbooks. It's Japanese, special for you!"

Special for him?

He stiffened slightly against the tall back of his chair, before turning to give her a suspicious, sideways glance.

Cast half in the bright light of the hallway, and half by the LED strips that covered his desk and the walls of his bedroom, she looked…well, pretty good, as much as he hated to admit it to himself.

Dressed in a tight, milk-maid-like dress that hugged her body in several flattering ways, the neckline also cutting low enough to accentuate the smooth, pale plains of her chest, it was…sort of no wonder Strade had developed such a fondness for her in such little time.

He could only imagine what she might have looked like, begging and pleading for his mercy, her pale skin streaked with blood, her full lips open and gasping and crying.

“I said I’m not hungry.” He repeated, turning back to his computer to hide his wandering eyes and the pinkish hue of his cheeks. "And...I mean, it IS kind of presumptuous that you think I'd want to eat it anyway, just because it's Japanese. Super rude of you, actually. You should ask what I want first, if you’re gonna do that."

"Mm, y-yeah, fine, I guess so." She finally stepped inside his room (without his asking to), making him turn back to look at her again with an annoyed glare. Her cheeks were slightly pink with embarrassment and her hands were clasped tont of her, fingers twitching in their entanglement. "You don't have to be an asshole, though, you know. I'm just trying to be nice..."

Nobody asked you to." He retorted sharply, crossing his arms over his chest with a childish huff. "I don’t need you to pretend to be all nice and caring, and…and motherly all of a sudden for whatever reason. Just stop.” He huffed again, his gaze flitting to the side. “I don’t find it cute, so don’t bother with that crap around me."

She stood back towards the closed door of his bedroom, her body straightening out, ridding itself of any pretence of embarrassment or bashfulness in her posture, with a little scoff and another pout, putting her hands on her hips.

Never beating the motherly allegations, it seemed.

"I'm not pretending, I just made dinner and wanted to include you,” She complained with a sharp look. “A-and motherly, what is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and spun his computer chair to face her fully, and for a split second, he almost found her indignant pout endearing and soft of cute, almost enough to drop the whole thing and leave her alone to enjoy the dinner she had made special for him.

Just almost, though.

"Of course, you’re pretending," He snapped, rolling his eyes, his tail idly swaying again. "What, am I supposed to believe that you would normally act like some simpering housewife, making dinners and cleaning and wearing a pretty dress, if you weren’t trying to get Strade to like you? It’s all fake. You’re fake”

He laughed and shook his head.

"You like to act like you're sooo much better than me, don't you? Well, I can see through your bullshit act, so it’s not going to work on me. Get it?"

Her eyes widened slightly as he ranted to her, and she let out another scoff when he was finished, breathing out an aggravated laugh with a sardonic smirk.

"Are you kidding? That's the reason you're pissed off at me?" She crossed her arms, the weight of her full chest pooling over them, showing them off even more. "Because Strade is leaving you alone? Because you actually get to have a night by yourself instead of entertaining your fucking kidnapper so he doesn’t kill you when he’s bored?"

"No, that's not why I'm pissed at you, idiot." He jabbed back quickly, his tail lashing behind him as he sat forward in his seat. "I'm pissed off at you because your fake bullshit has been interrupting me all week. You keep going around the house,” He gestured widely with his hands, putting on a simpering tone. “Looking all cute and sweet and trying to act like some sort of housewife. What are you, Strade’s lapdog? Or are you just trying to suck up to him so you can get rewarded for being a good girl?"

She bristled at that, a scowl darkening her pretty features.

"Excuse me for having some semblance of a survival instinct.” She barked back. “Are you really so jealous that you'd create these bullshit excuses for yourself, Ren? Maybe you should be grateful that I’m not just leaving you to fend for yourself, that’s what someone else would do-"

"Survival instinct?! You don't understand anything!” He immediately shouted back, almost cutting her off as he thrust his hands against his chest. “How about you try feeling the way I do, try feeling like you've been cast off for the shiny new toy! Tell me how fucking grateful you'd feel after that!"

She grinned smugly, looking almost triumphant that she'd gotten a reaction from him.

Maybe she wasn’t as sweet as he’d first assumed.

"You're pathetic, you know that?” She said, narrowing her eyes towards him, her tone cutting and sharp. “You're like a little kid, fighting for Daddy's attention."

That comment almost stopped him in his tracks, making him feel, instantly, like he had been punched in the face with a combination of rage, jealousy and despicable lust.

It was so absurd, so out of nowhere and yet so painfully on target that it made a furious blush spread across his face.

"Fuck you-" He murmured through grit teeth, his hands curling against the pockets of his joggers.

"Is that what he is to you, Ren?" She asked him with a mocking pout. "Is he your daddy?"

"You…" He stood up from his computer chair abruptly (enough to push it back against his desk), his tail whipping behind him furiously. "You don't, y-you’re one to talk! You’re the one who keeps sucking up to him, l-like you're soooo happy,” He gritted his teeth, his cheeks flushing darker as he tried to put some kind of authority to his voice. “T-To have Strade’s attention that you'll do whatever he wants, like you like being his whore or something!”

“I’m not his fucking whore!” She yelled back at him, almost at a breaking point of her own.

“Then stop acting like one!” He hissed.

"Why don't you go suck Daddy's cock,” She bit back, her voice louder than it had been before (and surely loud enough for anyone downstairs to hear too). “If you're so fucking desperate for it?!"

“Shut up!”

Overcome by his animal instincts (to kill, bite, maim, hurt, whatever he needed to do to win), he practically leapt forward, his vision red with anger, and grabbed her by the wrists, digging his claws deep into her skin as he pushed her backwards against the closed bedroom door, each body wrestling to overpower the other.

“Ngh!” She cried out loudly, trying to yank back from his grip, making his claws dig in deeper, as if he had already tethered himself to her. “G-Get off me!”

When he was this close, barely inches from her face as spittle sprayed across his cheeks, all while she shouted and screamed with primal annoyance, he could see each wrinkle and twist in her furious expression, and he was suddenly compelled to hit her, take her by the shoulders and bash her head into the door, the wall, until there was nothing left to be angry at.

He couldn’t help it, he told himself amid his rage.

The prospect of slapping that taunting, insolent expression off her face and replacing it with something more appealing, something that better suited her pretty face, something red and bloody and meaty, was just…too compelling

“Shut up, you goddamn moron.”

He pressed himself against her as she kept trying to fight him off of her, using his (minute) weight to keep her pinned against the door, his tail lashing and his teeth bared.

“Stop talking crap like you know fucking anything about me,” He hissed, feeling his annoyance grow even more as she kept fighting and wriggling underneath him. “As though you’re so much better. Shut. Up.”

She kept on writhing against him all the while, her full hips occasionally colliding with his, little whimpers falling from her lips like a pinned animal.

All of that (unfortunately) got his blood pumping like mad, the constant stimulation against his growing arousal, as well as the primal excitement of holding a squirming body still for a change (rather than being the one who was squirming), and he had to resist the urge to shudder and moan, feeling his skin prickle and his tail twitch as he pressed his body up against hers further, their hips aligned wonderfully.

He was aware, too, of the way her full chest (practically spilling out of her dress) was pushed against his, and the way he was forcing her to crane her neck back so she could even look at him.

It made him feel good.

It made him feel powerful. And he so rarely got to feel anything even close to that.

"You wanna play 'house', huh? Is that it?" He murmured as he pressed closer, forcing their faces together and growling into her cheek, before sliding a knee between her thighs and hiking it upwards, forcing her thighs to part. "Alright, if Strade is 'daddy', I guess that makes us 'brother and sister', doesn't it?"

Her eyes widened slightly at his growled words, stunned into near stillness before her expression twisted into one of shocked disgust and she kept squirming erratically underneath his body, especially so when his hips went forward, rubbing the beginnings of his erection against her thigh.

"Get the fuck off me!” She shrieked, shaking her head to shove him away.

“Ah-ah!”

He let out a mean laugh and grabbed her by the jaw then, his claws digging into her skin as he forced her to look at him, to see his golden eyes, sparkling with mirth, and know what he wanted from her. Her cheeks were flushed with furious humiliation, and her full lips were parted and wet with sprayed spittle, and his stomach felt like it was in knots from the effort of trying to control himself.

“You were the one who fucked around with me, you little brat,” He said, his voice almost a low growl, as his snarling lips grew into a smirk, his knee going up higher and nudging at the front of her panties. "Oh, now you're fighting me because you don't want to play anymore? Is that it?"

"Don't touch me, you freak!" She protested again, crying out when his claws sank deeper into her wrists and the meat of her cheek, as sharp as a needle in a pin cushion, droplets of blood streaming out and beading around his fingertips. “You’re, ngh, you’re just as bad as he is!”

Was that an insult or a compliment? Depended on the day, he guessed.

“HAH! Am I?” He keened forward on his tiptoes then, so they were face to face, as close they could get, and he could feel her panicked breaths ghost over his face, warming it up even more than it was already. “I’ll show you how bad I can be, hm?”

He hated her. He knew that much, at this point.

So why...why did seeing her pinned, wriggling, crying underneath him make his blood feel like it was roaring in his veins, like it had never done before?

Something something, there is an awful lot of love in hate.

Or, certainly, an awful lot of lust.

"Ohhh, little sister doesn't want to play anymore?” He taunted, lowering his voice to a cloying coo. “She wants to stay perfect and untouched for Daddy, doesn't she?" He then added sharply, as if he felt truly scorned, his breath growing faster as adrenaline and anger and hot arousal started to boil over and he rutted against her thigh even more, even faster. "Maybe he likes you so much because you'll play the whore, though, cus you'll play mommy for him."

"Nghhh, fuck," She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip as he rocked into her. “I’m not a fucking whore-”

“Mm, I think you are,” He continued to taunt, one hand sinking from her jaw (leaving behind bloody gouges on her skin) to hungrily pull open the ties of her dress, the fabric unfolding and revealing more of her pale chest, heaving and spilling out of the tight cotton. "Your tits are big enough to be mommy, anyway, a little too big to be a cute, little sister.”

"You've got a dirty, nh!" She flinched as he tore more of the dress, retrieving a scrap from the front (making it unwearable, in the future) to bind her wrists together in a messy knot, before hooking them above her head on a jacket peg. "A-A dirty mouth, Ren..."

“And you’ve got a dirty mind,” He replied smugly with a big grin, his tail idly wagging as he leisurely paced to the side and opened the top drawer of his desk, retrieving a set of bullet vibrators and a roll of athletic tape.

Finally, he was getting the chance to do this.

It had been a long time coming, he thought with a smirk, looking back at her. And who knew when he’d get this chance again?

Best to make the most of it now.

“Did Daddy get this for you, little sis?” He asked as he paced back towards her with a lazy saunter, tauntingly toying with the flaps of cotton fabric with one of his bloody claws. “Or did you ask for it, because you like showing yourself off for him, hm?~”

"I'm not your fucking sister, you pervert," She growled with a venomous look in her eyes, trying to pull at the cotton sash binding her, though her effort was evidently in vain when she let out a pained hiss, the cotton rubbing painfully against the dots of blood marring her wrists. “That’s sick.”

“Oh, but you said it yourself, didn’t you?” He asked with an innocent tone to his voice, tugging the dress’ fabric down even more so that her nipples were revealed, swelling with involuntary arousal, ripe and delicious and waiting for him. “You can’t take it back now. You’ve let me think about it for too long, now.”

He hummed casually as he positioned the first bullet against her nipple and taped it in place with strips of tape, biting off each one as they lay flat on her breast, idly licking his lips as he did so.

"What’re you doing?” She asked with a confused look towards her now adorned chest, before her eyes went back to his, her brows knitting together with concern.

“Don’t worry about it,” He smirked, positioning the second bullet across her other nipple and taping that in place too. “We’re just playing, aren’t we, sis? It’s nothing that serious.”

“W-We’re not,” She started, catching herself stammering and swallowing uncomfortably as her bound wrists rolled together again. “We’re not playing. I don’t want to play.”

“Mm, and I didn’t want you bothering me all night,” He replied airily, hiking up the skirt of her dress and revealing a sensible pair of panties. Figures, Strade never cared about important things like aesthetics. That was his job, he supposed. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

He then pressed his thumb against the front of her panties, his smirk widening into a (sort of) genuine smile when he found a slightly damp spot.

“Or, heh, maybe you are getting exactly what you want,” He suggested, leaning into her with a lecherous smile, his tail swaying as he slid the last bullet into her panties, nestled against where she was most sensitive (and he guessed as much, from the way she immediately flinched and whimpered as he tried to adjust it into the perfect place). “And you’re lying to me. What a naughty little sister I have, hah~”

“I’m not-NGH!”

He turned all three vibrators on with the click of a button, and her eyes almost instantly bulged out of her skull, overwhelmed by the buzzing sensation, and her expression only got more exaggerated and hot as he slid the vibrators’ motor up another notch, giving her even more to focus on.

“You’re noooot?” He drawled with a teasing grin, pressing close to her again as she moaned mindlessly, squeezing her eyes shut to try and contain the amount of pleasure she was being forced to feel. “You’re not lying, you’re not enjoying this, or…”

He turned the vibrators up another notch, hearing another loud, pained moan from her parted lips.

“You’re not my little sister, hm? Which is it?”

“Nnfff, Rennnn,” She murmured pleadingly, her thighs pressing together tightly and trembling, struggling to hold her body upright, as she stared towards him, any previous venom in her gaze and tone long absent. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry for whatever I did. But, hah, please,” She whimpered again, eyes clenched shut again as another wave of white-hot pleasure hit her hard. “T-This is too much, way too much, nhh!”

“Oh, so, now you’re wanting to be good?” He asked with the same cloying tone as before, nuzzling against the crook of her neck, against her cheek, scenting her, his twitching ears grazing her temple and making him shiver. “You’ve seen what happens when you’re bad, and now you want to be a good girl for me, like you are with Daddy, hm?”

“Yesss,” She drawled, doing her best to look towards him and acclimate to what he wanted of her. “Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please just stop-”

“Tell you what…” He started, turning the vibrators up another notch and listening to her cry out with another big smile, running his tongue over his teeth. “Address me properly and maybe I’ll think about going easy on you. What do you think about that, hm?”

“H-Hah,”

She breathed out, her bound hands curling into tight fists above her as she closed her eyes with a tight, grimacing expression, clearly not thrilled by what she was about to say, but…willing to do it for what she needed.

“P-Please…big brother,” He lip twitched with slight discomfort. “Please turn your toys off…I promise, I’ll be a good sister from now on, I won’t bother you ever again, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s really good, little sis,” He mumbled his tone sweet with praise as he pressed a wet kiss against her cheek. “Sounds almost like you practised it, just for me. Mm, Daddy did well with you, didn’t he? He’s training you to be a good, little whore…”

“Ngh,” Her head sank against her heaving chest, her breathing hard. “Please, please, please…please stop, now, please?”

“Mm…too bad.”

He then slid the motor up to the highest setting he could, the incessant buzzing of the triplet bullets almost drowning out the wonderful sound of her pained cries and whines.

Almost.

“FUUUCK!” She cried out like she was experiencing something close to true agony, gritting her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut and opening wide over and over again, fluttering, like a broken baby doll, while her wet mouth gaped and drooled, unable to stop herself. “FUCK, STOP, PLEASE!”

This was truly too perfect.

Someone was actually experiencing (at least a close approximation of) true pain in front of him. They were writhing, crying, bleeding, and begging him for mercy (that they wouldn’t find) and for him to let them go, and whatever they had to do, they’d do, just for a chance at freedom.

She was in a position he had been in countless times before, all because of him.

He’d never been more turned on.

His shaking hand quickly sank to the front of his joggers, urgently untying the toggle before peeling them down and revealing his hard, leaking cock, the knot throbbing hungrily at the base, waiting for something warm to fuck and sink into, like he was sliding into an unknowable home.

"Fuck, you deserve this.” He breathed hard through his gritted teeth, working his hand up and down the length of it as he pressed closer against her, panting against her already hot skin, probably making her feel that much more uncomfortable. “It's what you get for getting on my nerves. Now, hah,”

He squeezed the head of his cock hard, a pearl of pre-cum smearing against her naked thighs (scarred, just like his were, cut from the same cloth, a creation of the same master, embodying the same trauma, as much as he despised it).

“N-Now you're going to be all ruined and fucked up, and Daddy is going to go back to loving me even more…hah,” His head tilted forward against her shoulder, breathing harder as he worked himself up even more. “That’s all I want…e-everything I want, mm-”

He knew that probably wasn’t likely.

He knew that anything he could have done to a new toy wouldn’t have ruined her for Strade in the slightest.

If anything, it might have made him like her even more.

But it felt good to say, all the same.

"Maybe you won't be a sister or a mommy anymore.” He whispered into her skin as she kept crying out for mercy, her jaw tense and her eyes wide and staring right ahead of her, thousands of miles away. “M-Maybe you'll just be some dumb dog that sleeps outside and pisses with her leg up, and...nhh..."

He squeezed another dribble of pre-cum across her skin, before reaching up to grope and paw at one of her breasts.

"Fuck, sis, that's so good,” He gasped, as a wave of white-hot pleasure hit him all at once. The full weight and size of her breast made it even more fun to handle and play with, which in turn just made him feel that much more aroused. “Mm...if I didn’t think it’d get me killed, I’d have fucked you by now, without a care in the world…mm.”

She moaned brainlessly again, her head sinking against her thick, metal collar, bucking mindlessly against nothing as she was pushed closer and closer to her breaking point.

“Nnhh, that’s okay though~” He breathed out with a wheezing little titter, running his tongue over his fangs before pressing another kiss to her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck and her jaw. “It’ll feel good knowing you’re losing your mind because of me anyway…even if I can’t fuck you yet.”

“Nghh, please,” She drawled with a shaking exhale, pleading, soft thighs clenched together as she sank against her binds, the ratty cotton seemingly the only thing keeping her upright. “Please, fuck me, I want you to-”

“Ohoho, how she changes her tune now,” Ren laughed again, filled with unexpected energy to persist as he pulled back to really look at her, exhausted and empty of the protest she was full of before. “What, has my sweet little sister decided that she wants to play the whore all of a sudden? My my, we really aren’t ourselves when we want something, are we?”

“Ren, hah, big brother,” She squealed as he lowered his head to tongue at her breast, or, at least, what little of her areola he hadn’t covered with the tape. “Please, please, this feels like torture…”

“Oh, but it’s supposed to, sis,” He purred with an indulgent smile, nuzzling against her chest as his fist moved faster, up and down, his cock, his own arousal getting close to painful, he was so close. “Ngh, it’s supposed to be all fun for me, and torture for you. This is how things work around here, after all, don’t you know that?”

“Ghhhh, too much,” She whined, squeezing her eyes shut again, her head hitting the door as she tipped her head back. “Hurting, please, nhh…”

“Shhh, I know, baby,” Ren thencooed softly, his tail wagging at her needy tone as he peeled the athletic tape from her sore nipple and pulled the bullet aside, giving himself the full expanse of her nipple to tongue and taste as he pleased. “Just be good and I’ll try and make this bearable for you, kay?~”

“Stop, stop, hah!” Her eyes went wide again as she started to struggle. “Stop, ngh, t-that’s really sore!”

“You know I’m not going to do that,” He smiled teasingly, before slipping the now available bullet into her panties with the third one, only adding more to her torture and quickly making her shut up again. “Try to endure it, okay? I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“Nhhh,” She moaned helplessly, her eyes rolling back into her head (where they belonged, not looking at him, not seeing him), her mouth open and gasping and drooling.

“That’s it,” He praised with another smile, kissing her nipple again. “Much better.”

He indulgently ran the flat of his tongue over the ripe bud of her nipple as he kept fucking his fist, latching onto it like a babe and suckling eagerly, the taste and weight of her body against his pushing him, too, that much closer to the edge.

He was already so close, already there, when-

“MM-!”

Ren pulled back quickly, his eyes wide and his tongue between his teeth, when he spotted…

Was that milk? Oozing from her chest?

“You’re…lactating,” He pointed out, looking up towards her empty face (she was so lost, so far gone, so lovely to look at already) with a furrowed expression before a shaky smile crossed his face and he looked back down to where her nipple was still dribbling fluid. “Oh…hah, wow, that’s…um…”

His face was beet red and his cock was throbbing even more against his palm.

“Really, really fucking hot.”

He closed the temporary gap between the two of them quickly, suckling again at her nipple and moaning as another gush of fluid shot across his tongue, sweet and fatty and so delicious, he thought he was going to go crazy.

“G-God, I guess you really are Mommy, huh?” He murmured shakily, licking his lips (licking his fangs while he was at it) as he desperately lapped up any of the remaining drops that ran down her breast. “Mm, that’s okay, though. You’re still my sweet little sister, even if you are getting too big for it, nnhHH!”

His mouth went back to suck her nipple again, jerking himself off so roughly (so much so, her breast muffled actual whimpers) that it was starting to hurt, his cockhead sore and red and weeping with beads of pre-cum now, he was that close to climax and so desperate for release.

Another spurt of breast milk crossed his tongue, which he swallowed eagerly with another whimper, his lids fluttering and his legs trembling from the exertion of holding himself upright.

He was so close, everything about this was perfect, it was all perfect, He was so close, he was almost there, he was-!

“Are you two coming down for dinner or what?! I don’t want to be kept waiting~”

#ren btd #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #fics #commission #the ren girls put food on my table and for that i am eternally grateful #people who want to fuck that gay little fox? angels amongst us

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sonyshock · 5 months ago

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Tip/advice for drawing fast?

Of course! Let's see:

Practice speed drawing studies until you have the kind of speed you are happy with! It'll help you synthesize shapes and train your hands to do them in as few strokes as possible. It will also help you understand anatomy (for example) well enough that you can simplify it on the spot.

Collect references in advance!!! As in, one day earlier at least, so you can start the day with a general idea of how the picture will look like and without tiring yourself looking for references. Choice fatigue is a thing and finding references will take a lot of it. I use PureRef to collect references for commissions and about any other thing i want to draw or I have ideas for:

Zoom out. In the beginning and at the end of every stage (coloring, render). It'll help you get the areas of the drawing that can be solved with one stroke solved in one stroke, instead of multiple because you chose a small brush.

Use a big brush for a start. It'll force you to not focus on details. Add details gradually with smaller brushes.

Start with rough shapes rather than bit by bit. If you are drawing a character's full body, you should have the general structure in 10 seconds (general structure can look like two balls and a box, depends on what helps you best)

Redraw instead of fix. If you are stuck, it's probably better to redraw a piece of your picture or even the whole thing.

Don't do lineart. Use the sketch and refine it instead. Of course, this might depend on your style, but keep the choice in mind.

If you are going to render, exclude as many 'flat details' as possible. Body patterns, seams, even wrinkles (occasionally) will make the render more complex, when you can add them over the rendered piece afterwards and take less time.

When you start to render, begin with the borders of the figure. It'll help with blocking and by the time it's finished, it'll help you judge just how much you DO want to render

It's generally not got to only draw one thing unless it's very much by choice, but if you draw something similar very often (let's say, a bodyshot looking 3/4) you will get faster at it. Acknowledge your strengths. Even when branching out, you might want to start by diverging just a bit from it rather than a composition you are not familiar with at all

You might want to start pictures in monochrome and with a big brush instead of using base colors. This might or might not help you work faster depending on if you like refining art.

Schedule your art. Specially commissions. Knowing WHAT you will be drawing every day will help you get in the mind space to get it done and in how long you should.

That's what comes to mind! I might have more I'll add later

#art tips #gifs #art #artists on tumblr

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estherax · 2 years ago

Text

Generating plasm and stacking matchboxes: how to build a better future through collective consciousness.

Alternatively - Steban and Ulixes were building Tatlin's Tower so I have to talk about the symbolism or I will explode!!

While completing the communist vision quest you get an opportunity to build a model of "The Tower of History", depicted on the last page of "A Brief Look at Infra-Materialism": a leaning tower wrapped in a dramatic helix. The scale model you make is a mirror image of Tatlin's Tower - a design for a grand monumental building to the Third International: the government organization advocating for world communism.

The main idea of the monument was to produce a new type of structure, uniting a purely creative form with a utilitarian form. Meaning it would function as an office building while also serving as a symbol of cultural significance. And let me tell you, this bad boy can fit so much symbolism in it.

Tatlin was commissioned to develop a design in 1919, after the 1917 February Revolution - a parallel to Disco Elysium's Insulinde we're witnessing post-Antecentennial Revolution.

Tatlin's work was inspired by high revolutionary goals, which are evident in the visual direction of the tower as well, expressing the ideological strive for achieving something that has never been done before, overcoming the odds. The structure "oscillates like a steel snake, constrained and organized by the one general movement of all the parts, to raise itself above the earth. The form wants to overcome the material and the force of gravity..."

The tower has meaning packed even in the materials. For example, the glass structures (marked A, B, C on the architectural rendering) were meant to serve legislative, executive and informative initiatives while rotating around their axes at different speeds. The material signified the purity of initiatives, their liberation from material constraints and their ideal qualities.

But here's the best part. The spirals.

"The spiral is the movement of liberated humanity. The spiral is the ideal expression of liberation: with its base set in the earth, it flees from the ground and becomes a symbol of the suspension of all (...) earthy interests." They are "the most elastic and rapid lines which the world knows" that represent movement and aspiration, continuing the themes of progress and freedom, but they also refer to something else.

In the process of building the matchbox model Rhetoric points out: "It's almost exactly as Nilsen's sketch imagined, a physical manifestation of the dialectical spiral of history."

The shape of the tower is a representation of dialectical development of history, first visualized as a spiral by G. W. F. Hegel. He pictured transformational change as "both linear and circular in order to be short-term responsive, i.e. possibly negating itself, and long-term strategic, i.e. a process of development."

Hegel's dialectics would later be reinterpreted through the prism of materialism by Marx and Engels to create dialectical materialism - the basis for historical materialism.

"Still, this idea, as formulated by Marx and Engels on the basis of Hegels’ philosophy, is far more comprehensive and far richer in content than the current idea of evolution is. A development that repeats, as it were, stages that have already been passed, but repeats them in a different way, on a higher basis, (...) a development, so to speak, that proceeds in spirals, not in a straight line; a development by leaps, catastrophes, and revolutions; (...) the interdependence and the closest and indissoluble connection between all aspects of any phenomenon (history constantly revealing ever new aspects), a connection that provides a uniform, and universal process of motion, one that follows definite laws - these are some of the features of dialectics as a doctrine of development that is richer than the conventional one."

The tower embodies progress in materialist understanding of history while also indicating the connection to ideological plasm, a manifestation of "the proletariat's embrace of historical materialism", necessary to create a better future.

According to Nilsen, the proletariat of a revolutionary state can generate enough plasm to create extra-physical architecture that "disregards the laws of 'bourgeois physics' and instead relies on the revolutionary faith of the people for structural integrity."

This function of plasm implies that The Tower of History can be created only under revolutionary circumstances - without a sufficient amount of plasm even the matchbox model didn't stay up. The exact same sentiment is expressed about Tatlin's Tower: "We maintain that only the full power of the multimillion strong proletarian consciousness could bring into the world the idea of this monument and its forms. The monument must be realized by the muscles of this power, because we have an ideal, living and classical expression the pure and creative form of the international union of the workers of the whole world."

Nilsen called it "the highest expression of Communist principles, a society whose literal foundation is the faith of its people."

Tatlin's Tower was a symbol of faith in the revolutionary future, the global triumph of Marxist socialism. A monument "made of iron, glass and revolution."

It was never built in real life, and neither was The Tower of History in the world of Elysium.

But you can try to see if there's enough plasm between the three of you. And the matchbox tower stays up for a long moment, quivering with an improbable energy. You believe it can say up - and it does.

So you have to believe; whether it's for collective action or generating ideological plasm. Then, together, maybe you'll be able to build as much as 0.0002% of communism.

#i tricked myself into reading leftist theory for disco elysium #never thought i would be reading Lenin to write about videogame worldbuilding #tower related quotes are from ''The monument to the Third International'' by Nikolai Punin #infra-materialism #disco elysium #de #de meta #disco elysium analysis #disco elysium spoilers #disco elysium meta

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salmalin · 6 months ago

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I commissioned @decadentworld for this piece of Genesis and Minerva in the place of Adam and God in "The Creation of Adam" and I cannot emphasize enough how the quality of the work surpassed any and all expectations I had. My mental image was captured flawlessly, and I'm so glad with how it came out. I cannot wait to hang this on my wall.

I'll put a link to the uncensored piece in the comments for those who want it.

Image description under the cut.

Using the staging of the classical art piece by Michelangelo's painting of the Birth of Adam from Book of Genesis, Genesis Rhapsodos from Final Fantasy VII is in the place of Adam and Minerva is in the place of God.

Genesis has red hair and a lithe, muscular build. His face and general appearance is based on the image of a Japanese rock musician, Gackt, while his body is painted with more classical ideals of physique instead of modern. He is nude except for a bit of foliage over his groin, reclining against a dumbapple tree bearing purple fruit. He is reaching for Minerva, their hands nearly touching.

Beneath him are the exposed roots of the dumbapple tree, where Angeal's hand, glove tattered, is among the soil. There are long white feathers scattered around his feet, calling to mind his deterioration in the source material, as well as a purple dumbapple hanging above his and Minerva's hands, symbolizing that their connection bore fruit.

Minerva is on the right, replacing God in the original painting, with Whispers replacing the many cherubs that were around Him. Minerva is a blonde white woman wearing white, draping fabrics with god and blue armor over top—a breastplate and pauldrons.

The Whispers are figures that are made entirely of ghost-like cloaks. They are both white and black, symbolizing that Minerva's actions are both in support and denial of the Planet's will, as Genesis was born of Jenova's cells—an alien that was not part of Her. The Cloud/Womb-like structure around God in the original painting has been replaced by the Lifestream, a bright-green liquid-adjacent substance that can be perceived and drawn as a series of flowing threads.

The painting is done in the style of Michelangelo.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #minerva ffvii #ffvii #ff7 #ff7 fanart #ffvii fanart #genesis ffvii #genesis ff7

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hinamie · 6 months ago

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CLOSED AS OF JUNE 2024!!! WILL ANNOUNCE IF/WHEN THEY ARE BACK OPEN, THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST <3

I am happy to announce that after an extended hiatus, commissions are open until I burn out for the foreseeable future !! I know it's long but please read the information below carefully if you're interested in paying me to draw ur guys <3

[PRICING] ❖ bust (chest-up): $45 ❖ half (waist-up): $60 ❖ ¾ (knee-up): $75 ❖ fullbody: $95

each additional character is +80% of base price [maximum 3 characters per commission!]

I may charge up to +25% of base price for more complex props/designs

all finished pieces will be at 350dpi, but I will choose the final canvas size unless otherwise requested.

your choice of render style: lined & coloured, painted, or somewhere in between! I am comfortable with all three options and pricing is unaffected; this is purely an aesthetic choice. If you aren't sure/have no preference, I will take liberty based on what I think would suit the piece best. This cannot be changed once I have reached the colouring stage, so choose wisely!

RENDER STYLE OPTION DETAILS I. lined & coloured: think traditional anime illustration-style pieces. Lineart can be smooth or scratchy at your request but is clearly visible within the piece regardless. ❖ examples: x x x x II. painting: blocky, textured shapes with visible brush stokes. Lineart is integrated into the piece to provide structure, but is not the main focus. ❖ examples: x x x x III. hybrid: what it says on the tin ! varies from piece to piece but features elements of both my lined and painted styles. No hard-set conventions, however lineart is typically used for detailed areas such as hair, whereas clothes and skin tend to look more painterly. ❖ examples: x x x x

[WILL‌ ‌DRAW]‌ ❖ OCs‌ ‌ ‌ ❖ fanart‌ *while not mandatory, in order to ensure best results I recommend your commission feature characters from a fandom that I have previously drawn content for or have otherwise expressed interest in. ❖ light‌-moderate ‌blood/gore‌ ❖ backgrounds *all finished pieces will include a simple background (ie. a solid colour or minimally-patterned backdrop for some visual flavour). Detailed backgrounds will be priced on a case-by-case basis depending on what you are looking for but will have a MINIMUM cost of $40

‌[WON’T‌ ‌DRAW]‌ ‌ ❖ NSFW‌ ‌(suggestive‌ ‌stuff‌ ‌is‌ ‌ok‌ ‌but‌ ‌nothing‌ ‌explicit.‌ ‌Ask‌ ‌me‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌email‌ ‌if‌ ‌you’re‌ ‌not‌ ‌sure‌ ‌and‌ ‌we‌ ‌can‌ ‌work‌ ‌something‌ ‌out!)‌ ‌ ‌ ❖ [char] x self-insert ❖ furry*/mecha/bara‌ ‌*regular animals or simplistic‌ ‌animal‌ ‌appendages‌ ‌(ears/tails)‌ ‌are‌ ‌ok I am a catboy advocate‌ ‌❖ heavy‌ ‌blood/gore/violence‌ ‌ ❖ ships that weird me out ❖ real‌ ‌people‌ ‌*please‌ ‌also‌ ‌avoid‌ ‌using‌ ‌photos‌ ‌of‌ ‌real‌ ‌people‌ ‌as‌ ‌reference‌ ‌(ie.‌ ‌for‌ ‌an‌ ‌OC’s‌ ‌appearance)‌ if possible! ❖ complex‌ metal/mechanical props (cars, vehicles, armor/weaponry, etc.)

✧ link to ordering form and general terms of use ✧

Please DO NOT submit any commission requests through tumblr; I will not accept any commission requests sent here. Instead please follow the link and use the form and template provided! Do however feel free to message me if you have any general questions/need clarification! I'm grateful for the time you took to read through all this, as well as your ongoing support <3

(((reblogs are appreciated also))))

#commissions #art commissions #artists on tumblr #commission info #do i b scummy and use jjk fandom tags..........#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #hehe

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months ago

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Nobody

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

August 2, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Aug 03, 2024

Today, Aaron C. Davis and Carol D. Leonnig of the Washington Post reported that there is reason to believe that when Trump’s 2016 campaign was running low on funds, Trump accepted a $10 million injection of cash from Egypt’s authoritarian leader Abdel Fatah al-Sisi. It is against the law to accept direct or indirect financial support from foreign nationals or foreign governments for a political campaign in the United States.

In early 2017, CIA officials told Justice Department officials that a confidential informant had told them of such a cash exchange, and those officials handed the matter off to Robert Mueller, the special counsel who was already looking at the links between the 2016 Trump campaign and Russian operatives. FBI agents noted that on September 16, Trump had met with Sisi when the Egyptian leader was at the U.N. General Assembly in New York City.

After the meeting, Trump broke with U.S. policy to praise Sisi, calling him a “fantastic guy.”

Trump’s campaign had been dogged with a lack of funds, and his advisers had begged him to put some of his own money into it. He refused until October 28, when he loaned the campaign $10 million.

An FBI investigation took years to get records, but Davis and Leonnig reported that in 2019 the FBI learned of a key withdrawal from an Egypt bank. In January 2017, five days before Trump took office, an organization linked to Egypt’s intelligence service asked a manager at a branch of the state-run National Bank of Egypt to “kindly withdraw” $9,998,000 in U.S. currency. The bundles of $100 bills filled two bags and weighed more than 200 pounds.

Once in office, Trump embraced Sisi and, in a reversal of U.S. policy, invited him to be one of his first guests at the White House. “I just want to let everybody know, in case there was any doubt, that we are very much behind President al-Sissi,” Trump said.

Mueller had gotten that far in pursuit of the connection between Trump and Sisi when he was winding down his investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election. He handed the Egypt investigation off to the U.S. attorney’s office in Washington, D C., where it appears then–attorney general William Barr killed it.

Today, Brian Schwartz of CNBC reported that Elon Musk and other tech executives are putting their money behind a social media ad campaign for Trump and Vance, and are creating targeted ads in swing states by collecting information about voters under false pretenses. According to Schwartz, their America PAC, or political action committee, says it helps viewers register to vote. And, indeed, the ads direct would-be voters in nonswing states to voter registration sites.

But people responding to the ad in swing states are not sent to registration sites. Instead, they are presented with “a highly detailed personal information form [and] prompted to enter their address, cellphone number and age,” handing over “priceless personal data to a political operation” that can then create ads aimed at that person’s demographic and target them personally in door-to-door campaigns. After getting the information, the site simply says, “Thank you,” without directing the viewer toward a registration site.

Forbes estimates Musk’s wealth at more than $235 billion.

In June the Trump Organization announced a $500 million deal with Saudi real estate developer Dar Global to build a Trump International hotel in Oman.

In January 2011, when he was director of the FBI, Robert Mueller gave a speech to the Citizens Crime Commission of New York. He explained that globalization and modern technology had changed the nature of organized crime. Rather than being regional networks with a clear structure, he said, organized crime had become international, fluid, and sophisticated and had multibillion-dollar stakes. Its operators were cross-pollinating across countries, religions, and political affiliations, sharing only their greed. They did not care about ideology; they cared about money. They would do anything for a price.

These criminals “may be former members of nation-state governments, security services, or the military,” he said. “They are capitalists and entrepreneurs. But they are also master criminals who move easily between the licit and illicit worlds. And in some cases, these organizations are as forward-leaning as Fortune 500 companies.”

In order to corner international markets, Mueller explained, these criminal enterprises "may infiltrate our businesses. They may provide logistical support to hostile foreign powers. They may try to manipulate those at the highest levels of government. Indeed, these so-called 'iron triangles' of organized criminals, corrupt government officials, and business leaders pose a significant national security threat."

In a new book called Autocracy, Inc.: The Dictators Who Want to Run the World, journalist Anne Applebaum carries that story forward into the present, examining how today’s autocrats work together to undermine democracy. She says that “the language of the democratic world, meaning rights, laws, rule of law, justice, accountability, [and] transparency…[is] harmful to them,” especially as those are the words that their internal opposition uses. “And so they need to undermine the people who use it and, if they can, discredit it.”

Those people, Applebaum says, “believe they are owed power, they deserve power.” When they lose elections, they “come back in a second term and say, right, this time, I'm not going to make that mistake again, and…then change their electoral system, or…change the constitution, change the judicial system, in order to make sure that they never lose.”

Almost exactly a year ago, on August 1, 2023, a grand jury in Washington, D.C., indicted former president Donald J. Trump for conspiring to defraud the United States, conspiring to disenfranchise voters, and conspiring and attempting to obstruct an official proceeding. The charges stemmed from Trump’s attempt to overturn the results of the 2020 election. A grand jury is made up of 23 ordinary citizens who weigh evidence of criminal activity and produce an indictment if 12 or more of them vote in favor.

The grand jury indicted Trump for “conspiracy to defraud the United States by using dishonesty, fraud, and deceit to impair, obstruct, and defeat the lawful federal government function by which the results of the presidential election are collected, counted, and certified by the government”; “conspiracy to corruptly obstruct and impede the January 6 congressional proceeding at which the collected results of the presidential election are counted and certified”; and “conspiracy against the right to vote and to have one’s vote counted.”

“Each of these conspiracies,” the indictment reads, “targeted a bedrock function of the United States federal government: the nation’s process of collecting, counting, and certifying the results of the presidential election.” “This federal government function…is foundational to the United States’ democratic process, and until 2021, had operated in a peaceful and orderly manner for more than 130 years.”

The case of the United States of America v. Donald J. Trump was randomly assigned to Judge Tanya S. Chutkan, who was appointed by President Obama in 2014 and confirmed 95–0 in the Senate. Trump pleaded not guilty on August 3, after which his lawyers repeatedly delayed their pretrial motions until, on December 7, Trump asked the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals to decide whether he was immune from prosecution. Chutkan had to put off her initial trial date of March 4, 2024, and said she would not reschedule until the court decided the question of Trump’s immunity.

In February the appeals court decided he was not immune. Trump appealed to the Supreme Court, which waited until July 1, 2024, to decide that Trump enjoys broad immunity from prosecution for crimes committed as part of his official acts. Today the Washington, D.C., Circuit Court of Appeals sent the case back to Chutkan, almost exactly a year after it was first brought.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#WAPO #bribery #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #corrupt SCOTUS #Chutkan #certification of the presidential election #voting rights #disenfranchising voters #organized crime

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