#I guess all my family shit going on is making me work more on art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wotay27166 · 17 days ago

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Goodbye Sparklecare.

This will be my final post for actual for real this time.

What can I say that hasn't been said already? I've done my part. I've learnt everything that I needed. It's not the complete sense of closure I'd want but I don't think that's something I can get. I have to accept that. This has all been an incredibly painful past 2 days for me.

In a way, I grew up alongside Sparklecare. I was a minor when I was there during the preboot days, and now I'm an adult with an income. An income that I used in part to support Kittycorn for 2 years. Kittycorn's work was formative to me as an artist and a writer. I related to a lot of the characters and the plots because I too was a traumatized mentally ill/disordered person who had suffered at the hands of both a society and a medical system that did not treat me with dignity.

8 years of my life this comic was a part of.

Everyone has already said everything about Kittycorn the person, her actions, and her predatory associates so I'd like to talk about something else.

Sparklecare as a piece of art

...and how it just speaks to the lack of true artistry that everything about it ceases to hold up entirely once you know the Real Intent.

Because it's insincere.

If you essentially have to deceive your audience to get them to care, you have failed. If you're going to pull deception on your audience it has to be intentional to the experience. You can have stories that are fucked up, transgressive, and taboo succeeding in being fantastic stories in spite of those things as they wear their heart on their sleeve, genuine in what they want to convey. Sparklecare and all its surrounding media is none of that when Kittycorn put on a fake safe persona with a fetish mining work full of dog whistles and falsehoods.

When you set a standard for what your work is and what to expect, it is a MASSIVE 'Fuck you' to your audience to go against what you supposedly stood for the entire time otherwise. I guess a kind of similar example I can bring up is exactly why people hate the ending of Bunny Drop so much. It goes beyond the incest as a presence, it's more about the betrayal of expectation I'd say. It forces you to retroactively look at everything differently and it just ruins it entirely. Every single familial interaction in Cometcare is now impossible to see as just wholesome familial bonding, it's all warped to hell and back right down to the extended lore and themes. The very existence of 'secret canon' or whatever excuse tampers the whole. If it was like a fan-made thing it'd be like whatever, but this is the actual creator - this is a part of her vision. Right from the source.

But even once you realize this, it still doesn't work because it feels unnatural like what is actually wanting to be said/done is being held back. So you're stuck in this awful middle ground of a horrific realization.

The point is, people who aren't upfront about this sort of shit will never make good art that's worth remembering. In a few years no one will give a fuck about this comic outside of its controversy. That is the legacy one leads through insincerity. Even if it does remain it will never again reach the height or momentum it once did.

If you really want to really 'do whatever you want forever', you have to do it with honesty. You can't hedge around it or downplay what you actually want to do. All you will do is build yourself a mounting wall of expectations you know you will never meet because it's all a lie. For all Kittycorn saying in the past she never wanted it to be popular or get the attention it did... she kept pandering to the popular instead of doing what she actually wanted to do, and that's make a fucked up incest comic. It's because the allure of material reward of a large safe fandom that gives you fanart, recognition, and money is rewarding rather than making something real.

That hypothetical fucked up incest magnum opus, I wouldn't be apart of that audience nor would a lot of people in the current Sparklecare fandom. It is an alienating thing to create just purely based on what it is and if that's the 'whatever you want' to make 'forever', it is something one must accept. It also takes a lot of skill to make a work that an audience that otherwise would never engage with something like that to still enjoy/see the merits of it in terms of a piece of art/story. Good writers are perverts, but not all perverts are good writers. If you're not putting your entire ass in everything, the ass crack will show. As an artist who willingly puts their art out into the world and curates a specific audience and tone with their work... how she did not expect any of it to backfire is beyond me.

With an art and writing style that lends itself to a more juvenile audience with how very 'teaching a lesson' focused things are (even the incest comics are like this) it does not naturally lend itself to nuanced discussion nor the sea of depth in terms of character complexity. Sure the characters are multi faceted, but their actions are very black and white with the creator very not open to alternative interpretations that she cannot control within the audience to the point of distress (see people having a problem with Doom in a relationship with former patients he inadvertently aided in torturing by being complicit in the system that enabled it, for example). Even if it turns out if, for example, Sly is supposed to be seen as victim of her own illness (OCD acting on intrusive thoughts) it doesn't magically alleviate her of the actions portrayed nor disgust overshadowing sympathy. There is nothing Kittycorn can do to repair the reputation of this character within her art.

She is still calling the rampant incest canon just a comfort thing and thinks that being like 'umm all the canons are separate it's all AUs' changes intent and mindset in any way. You can't magically just switch off part of your brain when working on certain things - that's not how it works. It's not even like I can't fathom or understand where the coping comes from - a world where what if this awful thing that happened to me wasn't awful and I can reframe it in a positive way for myself so the abuse I endured hurts less. What if the codependent trauma bond meant so much more than a vessel of having power over someone in a life devoid of it? Potentially, a work like that could be quite profound because incest as both a moral dilemma and as a form of abuse, there is no easy 'out' when dealing with it. Themes of generational trauma, legacy, power, sexism, desperation...

EDIT: Okay never mind, that entire last three paragraphs before this one was written before the giant ass Sly x Eve defense and... no one is misrepresenting anything. It turns out it is full on incest romanticization in the most literal way. Incest true love. There's no nuance here whatsoever. Which, damn, I... I guess I'm truly speechless here. I was expecting like ANYTHING I guess but it's just... NOTHING...? I feel like an idiot. Fell for it again award received by me!!

I would like to formally apologize to the Coffin of Andy and Leyley - I didn't give you enough credit.

8 fucking years I invested into this shitty fucking comic and it turns out I was reading way WAY too deeply into EVERYHTING. FOR YEARS. Sparklecare was only good because I autistically indulged and overanalyzed everything into thinking there was more here being said and presented than it ever actually was.

I need to sit down.

But the key to that is sincerity.

Which is what Kittycorn lacks. It extends beyond her art as even her 'apology' posts are insincere. I don't think Kittycorn understands that no amount of 'actually you are supposed to interpret it like this' will change people's perception purely because of the sensitive nature of the topic at hand. You can be a big massive pervert with big massive pervert parts in you story and it could potentially have merit as art, but it has to be sincere all the way through. You can take perverse to mean purposefully contrarian or sexually taboo- either way I feel it applies. If you can't even be honest about the sorts of people you hang around with nor the way you approach your very public persona...

How can anyone trust a word you say? When all you've done so far is lie? At what point does the audience stop accepting the 'Fell for it again' award?

Why should anyone view your art as anything but a farce?

Anyway, that's my ramble about art.

Wotay27166 signing off for the last time, peace ✌️

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ayyy-pee · 1 year ago

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Discord 18+ - Twitter - Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist.

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling. “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?”

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell.

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these.

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’?

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing.

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now.

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

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kiyomitakada · 6 months ago

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okay fuck it i went to a leonardo da vinci exhibit today and now i have a leonardo da vinci death note AU in my head because i am a parody of myself so you can fucking have it i guess what do i even do with this

light yagami: young genius polymath who is good at literally everything

unfortunately for him he is a foreigner in italia (his family immigrated) so the government is not letting him anywhere near their weaponry projects. instead he does art. yes light yagami painted the mona lisa no i do not take criticism i’m in too deep

his portraits are predictably amazing. smash hit. soon aristocracy from all over italy is contacting him to draw them and their mother. this means he doesnt even have time in the day to draw giant fuckoff warship designs anymore. what point is there to life, he sulks.

eventually he accepts a commission from one kyosuke higuchi! we’re italianizing him because i really don’t think this AU works otherwise but let’s call him higuchi anyway. higuchi is a fifty-something duke of something or other who has recently married one misa amane who is twenty-something (the same age as light). misa is the subject of the portrait because higuchi just loves his darling wife so much (read: they had a shotgun wedding and higuchi needs to keep up appearances)

light is like wow someone who isn’t white it’s been like five years. i kind of feel bad for her, this situation is very suspicious. hello miss amane if you’ll just sit down over there while i get my brushes

misa (seeing the first person who has been even remotely sympathetic to her absolutely horrific life, noticing he hasn’t tried to make any advances on her at all [this is a good thing]): I AM DRASTICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU.

light: what

misa’s plan of seducing light predictably fails because he’s light, so she explains she has to get the fuck away from higuchi somehow

light is like okay well i am sorry to hear that but what does this have to do with me.

misa, tearing up: im a damsel in distress! also i can get you information about his court

light: whats his job

misa: financial advisor

light: oh fuck yes okay

so light’s plan is now to worm into the yotsuba court to get funding and hopefully sway them enough to let him pitch his cool weaponry ideas so he can Change The World. he does need income in general too (both for himself and his family; expected lifespan was way shorter then obviously).

misa’s plan is to kill higuchi somehow which will be much easier with light as backup she thinks

so. light packs up and moves to the yotsuba court which is thrilled to have THE light yagami portrait artist (i do more than portraits…) in their employ

oh yeah, misa mentions, the prince of the yotsuba court is kind of… weird

light: you could have told me this before

misa: ehe. dont worry about it!! it’s just um. he had a weird personality shift a few years ago? and now he refuses to wear royal attire. he always dresses like a peasant.

light: well it’s not like i’m going to be there to judge him on fashion am i.

THAT’S RIGHT. SIKE THIS IS AN ISEKAI NOW. yes L does remember light killing him <3 he (L) woke up in fifteenth century renaissance italy in a twenty-something-year-old body immediately after the heart attack. by some miracle he already knew italian.

so everything is going swell until one day light walks into his workshop to find the prince flipping through his notebook

light, sleep deprived: hey what the fu—i mean. uh. good morning your highness

there’s no need for that formality. call me L.

(…but your name doesn’t start with an L?) thank you, your highness L. um. sorry i know my handwriting’s messy.

on the contrary i find it completely readable, as long as one reads backwards and caesar shifts it three letters forward.

(oh SHIT he’s onto me) haha what are you talking about?

in fact i think this mechanical dragonfly contraption is rather ingenious.

oh aha that’s not important, just a passing fancy honestly

[ignoring him] if only you had some better way of providing torque, because as it stands the spring engine is extremely poorly designed.

what the fuck did you just say to me

[they end up physically fighting over the notebook because of course they do. meet cute!]

some more details:

ryuk is the patron light eventually gets after being in higuchi’s court for a bit

rem is higuchi’s personal assistant, who was disowned by her own royal-blooded family because her family sucks. she hates her job. if it weren’t for misa she’d probably be on the other side of the country by now

i don’t know where the wammy kids are. they’re definitely competing to be the heir to L’s throne but also they’re not related because there is no way that all the wammy kids (the whole orphanage of wammy kids) could have come from the same person. maybe some kind of insufferably high collar royal boarding school? did they even have those? help me

kiyomi and teru are both advisors in other courts (which are extremely corrupt, light seethes, in his perfect world there wont be any of those anymore) (you work for a court light) (thats different)

okay i’m done for today. you never know about tomorrow though. /threat.

[ @deathnotetober day 12: isekai ]

#i think theres so much you could do with canon L meeting au light but i cant fucking write renaissance dialogue so here you go #death note #light yagami #misa amane #l lawliet #our three major players!#lawlight #deathnotetober #higuchi is here too but i dont know if this is enough of a him post to warrant the tag #DISCLAIMER: i know nothing about leonardo da vinci outside of the exhibition i went to today #sorry for any historical inaccuracies #on the plus side if you spot any you probably have enough knowledge to write this

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 years ago

Note

HELLO??? WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MASTERPIECE??? especially the last line holy shit im scared yet excited at the same time 😬😬

YANDERE! AQUAMARINE HOSHINO x REINCARNATED! READER x YANDERE! RUBY

Guess I gotta do a full fic about it huh. Here we go. Link to previous part in the ask!

tw/cw: yandere themes, gaslight tactics courtesy of aqua, girlkeep tactics courtesy of ruby, girlboss [y/n]. mentions of suicide. reader is gn but gets described as beautiful.

is this really a yandere fic when both the twins are canonically insane tho-

IT WAS SAID THAT DURING THE NIGHT OF YOUR BIRTH THE SUN WAS AT ITS HIGHEST POINT AND FULLEST BLOOM.

Its rays buried humanity under a blanket of heat and devastation. Fortunetellers would wax on and on of the disasters you would soon bring upon the world.

That was your experience in your first life.

Many could only wish of being born to a worldwide pop-star, but to you it was a reality. You resented those that vied for your place. How could they romanticize such a life when every single day was torture for you. Some predicted you to be world-class singer before your first cry. People knew you before you could even speak to them. Everyone already idolized you, expected you to do great things before you’d even learn the alphabet.

The pressure had already been insurmountable the moment you took your first breath.

Your second life was terrifying to say the least. It didn’t matter that way you died before, just the thought of experiencing the same motions again frightened you to your bones.

And so you pretended. A shining star to a dim moon that barely reflected any light. Ever so meticulously making sure none knew of your so called genius. The last thing you wanted was to be labeled a prodigy even with the more lax nature of your new family.

But art will always call to you, a sunflower drawn to its source of energy.

You kept everything as lowkey as you could, reconnected with contacts you knew would keep their mouth shut, and even kept your identity away from prying eyes.

To the world you were just this masked musician that was oddly reminiscent of their previous luminescence.

You were satisfied with that life. Fame wasn’t something you agonized about or wished for. But now that veil had been taken away, it’s as if everything was crashing down yet again. Emails, messages and articles about your success as a young star was beginning to show its true weight. Stress began accumulating further and further as you had distanced yourself from your family and threw yourself to work as a distraction.

On one such ‘productive’ night, you were met with a face you didn’t expect.

“Aqua-niisama! Nice seeing you here. Thought you would be staying at that director’s place for the night—“

“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you promise to tell me everything? Don’t you trust me?”

Aquamarine had this knack of being utterly terrifying without meaning to. He had the talent to frighten at a glance. His beautiful sea-like eyes turn dull, murky. Capturing all the light, and drowning you in the same pressure your old family would throw you under repeatedly.

With his arms caging you between his form and the wall, you knew there was no escaping this. So in spite of the crippling anxiety, you gulp it do

“I wasn’t confident enough with my skills. Your mom is the Ai Hoshino and Ruby is so talented I—“

He lowered his face, nestled it right beside yours. You could swear he was breathing in your scent. “You looked anything but ‘not confident’ up on the stage.”

“Liar.” His hands then moved from the wall to encircle themselves around your body; his face to your the top of your head and nose between your hair. Yet even in this tight embrace you still felt chills down your spine. “I scare you don’t I? You were worried that I would stop you like I did with her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No, I understand you. You just wanted to keep her safe and I—“

“Not for that.” He pushed himself away for a couple of moments, and for that short amount of time you were ashamed to say that you felt utterly relieved until— “This.”

— he kissed you.

You’ve seen Aqua kiss Akane before. Both on and out of camera. You respected their relationship despite knowing of how unhealthy it truly is. They’d eventually break up and things would go smoothly you thought.

Pfft, as if. You knew shit would hit the fan. You were just too much of a coward to get in his way. Akane could suffer for all you care, she chose to date your psychopath of an adoptive brother anyways.

But you didn’t expect him to fall for you.

He never seem interested. Despite your mother telling you time and time again that Aqua cared deeply about you, you just couldn’t see it.

He was the deep, dark ocean. You were at the highest point of the sky, sailing across the cosmic sea. There was no way you two could meet eye to eye much less love normally.

You did the only thing your body could muster at the moment and slapped him.

“You’re right. You are a horrid brother.”

As you ran away, sobbing, Aqua couldn’t help but feel aroused.

Oh, how charming you looked with tears streaking down your cheeks.

It felt like hours when you first started crying nonstop. You never cried in your original life. You had no time or energy to. You never expected that your second, mundane life would be the one that shattered you.

And shattered you it did. You felt sorry for the future you who had to wash off all the tears and snot on your pillows and bedsheets, but it had to be done. You knew if you didn’t let it all out that day it’d happen sooner or later at a more inconvenient time.

Aqua only entered once to leave a tissue box and water bottle before he left. The sounds of typing outside of your room never ceased however, indicating he never actually went too far.

Ruby arrived far earlier than you expected as well. Her schedule that day should have had her busy til midnight but you had the feeling Aqua told her what he’d done.

“Ruby-nee—“

“Ssshhh…” Ruby silenced you with a kiss to the forehead.

“Why would he do that— he - he has a girlfriend.” You stuttered and hiccuped throughout your speech, still crying as hard as you did back then.

“Do you really think he loves her?”

“No.”

“But that isn’t what you’re worried about isn’t it?”

Ruby brought you up to her shoulder, massaging your back in a circular motion. “Trust me, nothing will change. He loves you very much. We both love you. I’m just sorry we didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to share your passion with us. You’re amazing [Y/N] in every shape, way or form. You don’t have to be the brightest to the world, you have no obligation to.”

“To us you’re already perfect.”

You never knew she had the capability to be this comforting in a mature sort of way. She always radiated a loud vibration; refreshing most of the time, though it did get tiring.

Never have you been afforded this kind of consolation. It was always you against the world. Being reminded that there are other stars in the sky beside you gave you a strange sense of solace. An odd variety of relief borne out of being insignificant in the sky.

“This incident just means he loves you in a different way alright?”

“But what about Aka-neesama?”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You should thank me. I left them all vulnerable for you.” Aqua spoke, his right hand quickly moved across his laptop’s keyboard and his left held a can of Monster.

“You felt it too didn’t you?” Ruby exhaled. It took a while to get you to lull you into sleep; a necessary step to have the conversation she was partaking in.

“Yeah. . . I did.” Aqua took a sip from his drink, his starry eyes laser focused on the recording of your performance. He had set up several fan accounts and gotten footage from all sorts of angles. He couldn’t wait for your next stage. May it be from sheer excitement or the caffeine in his blood, but the man was absolutely shaking all over over in anticipation. “We have a second chance, don’t mess things up.”

“I should be saying that to you. Break up with Akane by next week. And be careful with how forward you are with your feelings.”

“Already done.” Aqua held up his phone without breaking moving his head at all, in his phone were a few texts between him and a panicking Akane. “and no promises”

Ruby sighed one last time that night, leaning her head back to your bedroom door. “. . . You were right.”

“Hm?”

Both of her eye’s stars hard turn tar black, a blush covered her cheeks.

“[Y/N] does look enticing when they cry.”

#more sadist yun era posts because yes #oshi no ko #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere aquamarine #yandere ruby #yandere oshi no ko #yandere oshi no ko x reader #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oshi no ko reader insert #reader insert #aquamarine x reader #ruby x reader #yandere aquamarine x reader #yandere ruby x reader #aquamarine hoshino #ruby hoshino

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msklassickilla · 15 days ago

Text

Delirious | J. Uso|R. Reigns Sixteen

Summary: When Titania buys an old typewriter from a closing thrift store, she thinks it’s just a vintage gem—until the words she types start coming true. However, the typewriter doesn’t just bring fantasies to life—it twists them. Giving Titania way more than she bargained for.

Pairing: Titania Marshall (Black OC) x Jey Uso x Roman Reigns

Author’s Note: This story is another AU thing. So, it might align, or it might not. I will try my best to keep it current enough. Nonetheless, it’s mash up of a few things: That one episode of Goosebumps. That one episode of the Twilight Zone. And that movie by the same title, Delirious featuring John Candy. I’ma make it work. Plus, I like mystical spooky shit with a bit of Jerry Springer type mess.

Warning(s): Minor foul/harsh language. Mentions of SMUT happening.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Sixteen

Titania stood at the sink, scrubbing the last of the wine glasses, her hands submerged in warm, soapy water. The party had finally died down, but one guest lingered. One guest who had overstayed his welcome.

Laughter echoed from the game room—Jey’s deep chuckle blending with Roman’s low, rumbling one. Call of Duty, she guessed. The two had been holed up in there ever since the last of their guests had left. Just the three of them remain.

Titania’s patience was wearing thin. She glanced at the clock. 1:07 a.m. Enough was enough. Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she stepped out of the kitchen, her bare feet silent against the cool floors as she made her way down the hall. She found them where she expected—Jey sitting forward, eyes locked on the screen, while Roman lounged back, a beer in hand, one arm draped over the couch like he had all the time in the world.

Titania didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Jey, can I talk to you for a second?”

Jey barely looked away from the game. “Yeah, babe, what’s up?”

“In private.”

That got his attention. He sighed, tossing the controller onto the couch before standing, stretching lazily. Titania turned on her heel, leading him into their bedroom, and the moment the door shut behind them, she rounded on him.

“When is Roman leaving?”

Jey ran a hand over his face like he was already exhausted with the conversation. “Tee—”

Her arms folded. “Jey.”

He sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, he’s been going through it since the divorce. He’s lonely, you know? And he’s been drinking tonight. A lot.”

Titania arched a brow. “And?”

Jey hesitated. “Tee, I told him he could crash here for the night.”

Her stomach bottomed out.

“You what?” Her voice was eerily calm, too calm.

Jey frowned. “Babe, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?” she repeated, voice rising. “Jey, he shouldn’t be here.”

Jey scoffed. “He’s family. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.”

Titania clenched her fists at her sides, breathing deeply through her nose. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake him and make him see what was so painfully obvious to her. Instead, she took a step back.

“You don’t see the problem, do you?” she asked quietly.

Jey frowned deeper. “Babe, it’s one night. Just chill. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

She stared at him, jaw tight, and without another word, she turned on her heel and left him standing there. Titania refused to give Roman the satisfaction of an outburst. If he wanted to play games, he’d have to find another opponent. Instead, she forced herself to focus on anything but him.

A hot bath was her only solution. She let the steaming water melt away her frustration, inhaling the lavender scent from her body wash as she dragged the loofah over her skin. She stayed in longer than usual, allowing the warmth to loosen the tension in her shoulders, to lull her into something close to relaxation.

----

Once dressed for bed, she quietly made her way to the kitchen, her silk robe tied securely around her waist. She moved through the darkened house on autopilot, her bare feet gliding over the cool tile as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge.

Footsteps thudded softly behind her.

Titania didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Jey’s presence was familiar, grounding. She exhaled as he came up behind her, his hands already sliding around her waist.

“He’s settled in,” Jey murmured against her hair.

Titania closed her eyes briefly. “He could’ve got Lyft home.”

Jey sighed, pressing his lips to her temple. “It’s just for a night.”

Titania felt his grip tighten, his fingers trailing along her hip, slipping beneath the hem of her robe. His lips moved lower, dragging along the curve of her neck, his body pressing firmly against hers.

She tensed. Not tonight. Not with Roman here.

Titania placed a hand on Jey’s chest, nudging him back. “Jey,” she warned softly.

Jey exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. “It’s cool,” he muttered, stepping away with a smirk. “Big Uce knows what it is.”

Titania rolled her eyes, turning off the kitchen light as Jey slinked away toward the bedroom, disappearing down the hall. Alone, she peeked around the corner towards the staircase, her gaze lingering at the top. The guest room door was shut. The house quiet.

But was he really asleep? Or was he waiting for something?

Titania swallowed hard, locking the front and back doors before switching off the last of the lights. The uneasy feeling in her stomach remained as she made her way toward the bedroom, the weight of Roman’s presence lingering in the air.

----

Titania padded into the kitchen, the house silent and still. The air was thick with the lingering warmth of the day, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as she reached for a glass and filled it with cold water. The first sip was refreshing, cooling her throat, grounding her.

And then—hands.

Strong, possessive, snaking around her waist.

Titania barely had time to react before she felt the heat of a body press against her back, the firm grip tightening, pulling her flush against hard muscle.

Roman.

His scent wrapped around her—something dark, something woodsy, something unmistakably him. His lips brushed the curve of her neck, trailing slow, wet kisses downward. His breath was hot, teasing the sensitive skin just below her ear. Titania shivered, her grip tightening around the glass in her hands.

“Roman,” she whispered, her voice sharp yet breathless.

She tried to twist away, but he only gripped her tighter, his fingers splaying against her stomach, feeling, exploring.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips tracing her pulse. “You don’t wanna wake him, do you?”

Titania froze.

Jey. He was just in the next room. Sleeping. Blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his own kitchen.

“We—we can’t,” Titania stammered, but her voice lacked conviction. Her body betrayed her, leaning back into Roman’s warmth, her pulse quickening beneath his mouth.

Roman chuckled, low and husky. “That ever stopped you before?”

She turned in his arms, ready to shove him away, to force some space between them, but he caught her wrists, his grip firm, unyielding.

Roman didn’t wait for permission. He lifted her effortlessly onto the countertop, his broad frame settling between her legs. His lips found hers, demanding, hungry, his tongue sweeping inside with devastating expertise. The kiss was searing, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Titania gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest to push him away, but he didn’t budge. Didn’t falter.

Her weak protest only seemed to embolden him.

Roman’s hands slid up her thighs, gripping the soft flesh, his thumbs brushing against the hem of her nightshirt. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her throat, down her collarbone, lower—

Titania’s head tipped back, a moan threatening to slip free—

And then—

“Tee, where you at, baby?”

The voice sent a jolt of panic through her. Titania’s eyes snapped open.

Jey.

Roman stilled against her, his head lifting, his lips just above the swell of her chest. His expression was unreadable. Calm. Expectant. Like he had been waiting for this moment.

Titania turned her head toward the hallway, and there Jey stood, barefoot, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his expression unreadable.

But his eyes—

There was something in them. Not anger. Not shock. Something else.

Roman and Jey locked eyes. Something unspoken passed between them. Titania’s heart pounded so hard she thought she might be sick. Then, slowly, Roman pulled her off the counter, his hands lingering, steadying her shaking legs.

He pointed to the bedroom.

Titania’s breath hitched. Jey didn’t look at her. Not at first. Then, finally, he met her gaze, his hand extending toward her.

Titania hesitated, confused, disoriented, unsure of how they got here, unsure of what was happening—

But her body moved before her mind could catch up. She slipped her fingers into Jey’s palm. He tugged her gently, leading her down the hall, toward the bedroom. Roman followed. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of what was about to happen pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones.

The moment they reached the bedroom, Titania barely had time to process before hands were on her again—

Two sets.

Gripping.

Pulling.

Tearing fabric.

The onslaught of mouths, of whispered promises and filthy demands, of pleasure so intense it made her toes curl, made her mind go blank, made her forget everything except the way they devoured her, took turns worshiping her.

She was drowning in sensation, in heat, in bliss. It was too much. Not enough. She was gasping, writhing, teetering on the edge of something explosive—

----

And then—

Titania woke up.

Titania shot up in bed, chest heaving, the dream still clinging to her like a second skin. A thin sheen of sweat covered her from head to toe, her nightshirt damp, her pulse erratic. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily, the phantom sensations of hands—too many hands—still lingering on her skin. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing, but it was impossible.

What the hell was that?

She needed air. Stumbling out of Jey’s hold, she practically tripped over her own feet as she rushed to the bathroom. The overhead light was harsh, glaring, making the edges of reality feel too sharp, too real.

Titania braced herself against the sink, her fingers curling around the cool porcelain, grounding herself. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed, lips parted, pupils blown.

She turned the faucet on full blast and splashed cold water onto her face, gasping as the chill shocked her system. “Get a grip,” she muttered, gripping the counter, forcing herself to breathe. “It was just a dream.”

That’s all it was. A dream. Wasn’t it?

The doubt slithered in, wrapping around her like a vice, but she shoved it down. This wasn’t the time to overthink. She needed to feel normal again. She needed to wash this off.

Stripping off her damp nightclothes, she stepped into the shower, letting the steaming water cascade over her, hoping it would melt away the lingering heat of the dream. But no matter how hard she scrubbed, she could still feel it— Roman’s hands gripping her thighs, Jey’s breath against her ear, the weight of their bodies pressing her into the mattress.

She exhaled sharply, pushing it all away. It wasn’t real.

----

By the time she stepped out of the shower and changed into a fresh pair of satin shorts and a tank top, she felt slightly more composed. Her body was still buzzing, still hyperaware, but at least her head was clearer.

All she needed now was some water. The house was eerily silent as she made her way to the kitchen, the only sound the soft padding of her bare feet against the tile. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off and downing it in several long gulps, desperate to wash away the dryness in her throat.

The moment she lowered the bottle, something caught her eye.

A light. Faint, but visible down the hall. Titania froze. The game room. She knew for a fact she had turned that light off before heading to bed.

Did Jey?

A chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning crawled down her spine. Against every ounce of better judgment, she inched toward the hallway, each step slow, hesitant. The glow from the game room spilled faintly into the dark corridor, flickering slightly, casting long shadows.

She rounded the corner—

And stopped dead in her tracks. Roman sat on the couch, his broad frame relaxed, one arm draped lazily over the backrest.

Titania’s stomach clenched. Why was he still awake?

----

Titania’s fingers curled into the hem of her shorts, trying to ground herself against the sensation creeping up her spine. The room was too quiet. The low murmur of the TV was just white noise beneath the weight of Roman’s presence.

He sat there, lounging like he had all the time in the world, one arm draped over the couch, the other lazily bringing the beer to his lips. The way he moved, slow and deliberate, made her uneasy. Not because she feared him—no, that wasn’t it. It was something else entirely. Something worse.

“You might as well come have a seat, Titania.”

She tensed. How did he know she was there? He hadn’t even turned around.

Roman shifted slightly, his dark eyes finding hers, impassive yet heavy with meaning. He gave a lazy wave toward the empty space beside him, like he was certain she’d obey. Titania hesitated, her body screaming for her to turn around and walk away. This was the moment she should have made the right decision.

But yet, her feet betrayed her.

Slow, measured steps carried her forward, closer than she should have allowed, but not too close. Just enough to see him properly. The faint glow of the TV cast flickering shadows over his frame, accentuating the deep tan of his skin, the hard muscle of his bare chest, the inked tribal markings that crept over his pectoral and down his arm. He was a work of art—sculpted, refined, devastatingly effortless in his allure.

She swallowed hard.

"You might as well come on over here. You know you want to." His voice was silk and steel, arrogance laced through every word.

Titania shifted from one foot to the other, ignoring the pull. “Why are you still drinking?”

Roman lifted his beer in a mock toast, smirking. “What does a man who’s lost everything do to get through? He drinks.” His voice held a mocking lilt, but something darker lingered beneath it.

Titania frowned. “I find it surprising that you believe you’ve lost everything. You’re Roman Reigns. The needle mover. The true tribal chief. The one who dons the ula fala... if Solo didn't have it at the moment.”

Her own voice surprised her—passionate, unwavering. Roman’s smirk faltered, just slightly, before something softer took its place. His gaze warmed, the hard lines of his face easing into something almost tender.

“You always had a way with words,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I guess that’s why you ended up being a writer.”

Titania pinched her thigh. The familiarity in his tone felt too natural. Too knowing. She could feel herself being pulled in, inch by inch, until she realized she was lowering herself onto the couch beside him. Her breath hitched the moment she did.

How had she let herself get this close?

Roman exhaled, his expression shifting, something solemn settling in his features. “I had everything at one point… or at least, I thought I did. A family. A legacy. A future. But the most important thing is right next to me, pretending she doesn’t remember how much joy she brought me.”

Titania’s stomach flipped. He was talking about her. She could hear the conviction in his voice, the way he spoke like it was absolute truth. The weight of it sat heavy between them, demanding to be acknowledged. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

So, she stayed silent.

Roman let out a quiet, bitter laugh, taking another slow sip of his beer. It made her feel like the villain in a story she hadn’t even written. Her fingers dug into her lap, mind racing. She wasn’t responsible for whatever twisted memories he had, was she?

Ever the inquisitive mind, Titania needed something to soothe the guilt gnawing at her ribs.

She exhaled carefully before asking, “Why did you really leave your wife, Roman?”

----

Placing the now empty beer bottle on the floor, Roman leaned back on the couch, folding his arms across his chest in quiet contemplation. His eyes closed briefly, his broad chest rising and falling with a slow inhale. Titania watched him, waiting. There was a stillness in the air, thick and expectant, like he was deciding just how much he wanted to give her.

Finally, he spoke, voice low, deliberate. “Tee, I left my wife for you. I don’t know why you’re insistent on believing it was for another reason. I left her for you.”

Titania’s forehead creased. That couldn’t be it. That wasn’t the real reason. People didn’t just leave marriages like that. They didn’t just discard years of history, vows, a life built together—especially not for someone else.

“You don’t just walk away from something like that,” she countered. “You don’t throw away all that history for someone else.”

Roman cracked one eye open, giving her a lazy, knowing look before shutting it again. His lips twitched at the corners, almost amused by her resistance.

“But I did.” His voice was calm, steady, like he was stating a simple fact. “Because I loved you. I still love you. None of what I had with her meant anything once I fell in love with you, Titania.”

A shiver ran through her spine.

“That connection. That vibe. That feeling of meeting your equal can’t compare to whatever I thought I had with her,” he continued, voice thick with emotion, but not unsteady. No hesitation. No doubt. He believed it. Every word.

Titania felt something twist inside her chest. The weight of his confession pressed against her, leaving an ache she didn’t want to acknowledge. Jey had never spoken to her like this. Never laid his heart bare in a way that made her feel like she was being pulled under. Roman’s words were consuming, pulling her into his orbit, suffocating in a way that was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

She opened her mouth, an automatic denial ready to fall from her lips, but she stopped herself. What was the point? He was certain. No matter how much she protested, no matter how much she clung to the truth she thought she knew, Roman wasn’t budging.

So, she didn’t say anything at all.

The silence between them was heavier this time, charged. It wasn’t until she felt the slow drag of his fingers against hers that she realized how close she had gotten. Their hands met in the space between them, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles into her skin.

Titania should have pulled away.

She didn’t.

They sat like that, wrapped in something unspoken, something dangerous, until Roman spoke again, eyes still closed. “Tee, go lay down. I’m sure Jey will come looking for you soon.”

Titania wanted to stay. That realization startled her, made her inhale sharply. But she knew better. With a nod, she rose from the couch, his hand still holding onto hers. His grip tightened, not harsh, but enough to make her pause. When she looked down at him, his eyes were open now, dark and muted.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, voice softer now, but no less intense. “I’m not letting you go. But for now, I’ll give you time to figure out why you wanted to leave Jey in the first place.”

Her breath hitched.

And then he let her go.

Titania turned on unsteady feet, making her way out of the game room, down the hall, to the bedroom she shared with Jey. He was asleep when she crawled into bed, his back turned toward her, one arm stretched lazily over the sheets.

She slid in behind him, pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades, her arm looping around his waist. Holding him felt different now. Like she was holding onto something slipping through her fingers.

Love was enough. It had to be enough.

She willed herself to sleep, but sleep never came. Because while she lay there, tangled in Jey’s warmth, her mind drifted back to the quiet storm residing just down the hall. And she had no idea that he, too, was lying awake, thinking of the whirlwind of a woman sleeping next to the man he called family.

----

The sun crept through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across the bed as Titania finally peeled herself away from Jey. His breathing was slow, steady, still deep in sleep, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath her skin. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, stretching her limbs, rolling the tension out of her shoulders. A full night of rest had evaded her, and the weight of it sat heavy on her chest.

Brushing her teeth, she avoided her reflection in the mirror, the memory of last night still too fresh. Roman’s words clung to her like a second skin, his conviction, his certainty… I’m not letting you go. It echoed in her head, curling around her thoughts like creeping ivy, impossible to pull free.

Titania clipped her hair up, opting for comfort in a loose top and biker shorts, padding barefoot to the kitchen. She’d make breakfast. Maybe then, finally, she could send Roman on his way, shake this unsettling feeling, scrub him from her mind like a bad dream.

The house was quiet as she worked, the soft hum of music playing low from the television filling the space. She swayed slightly to the rhythm as she moved, flipping pancakes, scrambling eggs, frying turkey bacon. The scent of butter and maple syrup filled the air, rich and warm, almost comforting.

Then, one by one, the men arrived.

Jey strolled in first, shirtless in basketball shorts, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Roman followed not long after, equally shirtless, his dark, tanned skin stretching over broad shoulders, tattoos creeping down his arms.

Titania’s movements slowed.

The sight of them—both of them, so similar yet vastly different—seated at the island, waiting for her to plate their food as if this were routine, sent an unease rippling through her. Jey didn’t blink at the fact that Roman was half-dressed in their home, didn’t think anything of it. To him, this was normal. To him, Roman was just family. And to Roman…

Titania didn’t want to finish that thought.

She forced a tight smile, pushing the plates toward them, her own appetite long gone. They dug in, conversation flowing easily between them, mostly about work and what was next for The Bloodline. Titania half-listened as she tidied the kitchen, wiping down already-clean counters just to keep her hands busy.

“Tee, you know we getting The Bloodline back together,” Jey clapped his hands together, excitement evident in his tone.

Titania turned, offering an automatic smile. “That’s good, baby.”

Roman’s eyes lingered too long. The weight of his gaze burned against her skin, but she refused to acknowledge it.

“Yeah,” Jey continued, grinning as he shoveled another bite of food into his mouth. “We close to doing something major.”

Titania nodded, murmuring in agreement, but the air in the room felt suffocating. She needed space. An escape. The sudden chime of her phone offered exactly that.

Unknown Caller

Perfect. She snatched it up, answering quickly just to have an excuse to leave. “Hello?”

Silence.

She frowned. “Hello?”

Then, faintly, almost too soft to catch—the sound of keys clicking.

Titania went rigid.

The clacking was barely audible at first, but then it grew louder, persistent, mocking. Her stomach turned as icy fingers of dread crept down her spine. She yanked the phone away from her ear, staring at the screen like it had betrayed her, then tossed it onto the bed as if it had burned her fingertips.

No.

No, no, no.

How?

A cold chill settled deep in her bones. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself before stepping back into the kitchen. Two sets of eyes lifted to meet hers, both expectant in entirely different ways.

Jey spoke first. “Who was that, baby?”

Titania’s mind blanked for half a second before her lips moved on their own. “It was Mia,” she lied smoothly. “She’s thinking about visiting us soon.”

Jey’s expression brightened. “Oh, bet! That’d be dope. Ain’t seen her in a minute.”

Titania nodded, feigning excitement, rattling off an excuse to slip away upstairs. Roman said nothing, just watched as she practically fled.

She took the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest. The office door loomed at the end of the hall, shut tight. Titania shoved it open without hesitation, marching straight toward the typewriter.

A fresh sheet of paper sat nestled inside. A message awaited.

Three walls existed. The first called Resistance. The second called Refusal. And the third called Reconciliation. All three walls will fall. And one has already fallen.

Titania’s breath caught in her throat.

Resistance. Refusal. Reconciliation.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as frustration bubbled to the surface.

“What does that mean?” she whispered harshly.

The typewriter, silent and smug, offered nothing more. Titania wanted to scream, to throw it, to smash it into a million pieces, but she had done that before. It would live to see another day. Instead, she stood there, glaring down at the infernal machine, her mind churning.

The house she had built, the life she had carefully crafted, was being dismantled. Brick by brick. And she had no idea how to stop it.

----

Read Chapter 17... (click here)

Want to join the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @theusotwinzcom @yana3sworld @mikaelsonharem7 @isabella-2025 @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @jeypunkk @usoholic @baybehkay @key05marie

Want to read from the beginning, click here

#black fanfic writer #black oc #original character #the bloodline #wwe au #jey uso x oc #jey uso #wwe fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #roman reigns #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfic

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igotanidea · 2 years ago

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Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town. And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

#batboys x reader #batboys x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #robin dc #batboys x y/n #batboys x you #batfam x you #batfam #batfamily #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x batsis #nightwing x reader #nightwing x batsis

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into-the-milgramverse · 1 month ago

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Ramble on Kotoko

Personally, I love Kotoko despite the fact that she harmed two of my faves

Regardless of your opinion on if her actions are justifiable or not, one thing I feel like everyone will agree to: She makes Milgram more interesting

She's unpredictable, yet simultaneously easy to read.

T1 inno seemed to make sense based on what we saw, as we assumed that she was in Milgram due to the kind of people she targets in the MV. Surely she just attacks the very bad guys who actively harm people, specifically kids, right? Right?

Wrong. Oh boy, how wrong was that.

There's no way anyone could have known that she treats all crime equally

Including:

Loving someone in a "wrong" way

Based on Mahiru's MV, she basically does the thing a lot of girls do, and are in fact encouraged by many magazines, digital and in paper, to do, especially when they're focused on "love and relationships" subject. She calls her boyfriend while he's sleeping, does "relationship" testing to see if he'll stay, etc etc,.. And yeah, this shit is toxic and harmful. But it's also very common and normalized. (I've personally had experienced a partner doing similar to me, "testing me" to see how I'd react to certain news. I was also friends in highschool with one person who got "tested" by their partner, and then they returned the "testing". None of them deserve to be beaten up.)

Making an online call-out post

Again, very common thing that happens, and, unfortunately, very common for it to go too far to the point of people, and sometimes even their families, getting harmed. It's mostly done by teens and young adults, and has the general idea of Finding The Evil and Calling It Out to Protect Others From It, but what it ends up doing is just putting a target on someone's back, where people will mindlessly start harassing that someone because of their assumed wrongdoings. You yourself likely know at least one person who joined in on some Twitter or Tumblr post to add a comment about how "disgusting" someone is for liking certain fictional media or drawing fanart in way people don't like. Hell, maybe even you yourself have participated, maybe you've seen someone who traced over someone's art and decided to comment on it. Fuuta's case is basically that, a girl posted a photo (of herself wearing a hat iirc?) and Fuuta (if it really is him, since I've seen theories that someone might have pretended to be him), along with few other people, jumped her over that pic, accusing her of... Art theft, I believe?

Killing your abuser

Amane is a victim of abuse. Though she claims she killed because the person (her mom) was breaking the rules of their religion (cult), I think it's clear that's an excuse she hides behind, or else she'd have to face her own feelings (after all, she took her own mother's life, there's no doubt that would be difficult to deal with emotionally). She only has her beliefs to fall back onto for support, to tell herself that she just did what she had to because her mother broke the rules first.

Having undiagnosed DID

She literally states that Mikoto's existence is a crime. His actual crime that he committed is never brought into question, not by people who voted, and not by Kotoko either. No one ever judged him for his actions, they just judged him based on whether he's faking DID or not (based on how Milgram works though, it makes it impossible to fake DID.)

To Kotoko, all of these are crimes, all of which are deserving of being beaten up to the brink of death.

And honestly? Love that of her. She causes chaos. She sticks to her stance and doesn't change her way of thinking no matter the vote she receives. Her way of thinking is also rather simple ("All we gotta do is get rid of all the bad guys" type of thinking), but how and when she chooses to act out is more complicated and harder to guess. Many things seem to play into what decisions she'll make.

If it wasn't for her, Milgram wouldn't turn into what it has become now, with people desperately trying to minimize further harm, trying to balance both voting "correctly" (that's the trick, there's no correct way to vote) as well as protect other prisoners from her.

#milgram #kotoko yuzuriha #fuuta kajiyama #mahiru shiina #amane momose #mikoto kayano

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teoft · 4 months ago

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It's like Tumblr has become almost a diary for me, thanks to no character limit and a read more button. This atmosphere of acceptance and understanding helps a lot too.

I'll get back to posting actual art, juggling with Twitter and Bluesky along with commissions is taking up a lot of my time.

Anyway, thoughts about art community and being social

For the longest time I've had this feeling of being an outsider in this vague community of artists that see as colleagues of sorts. Like I meet all the "criteria" of being in the group, and yet don't really feel like I'm part of it. Well, it seems I am right in some way, and the reason is that they interact with each other, while I sit here drawing alone.

Unfortunately I've always been prone to isolate myself from others. I grew up feeling like I should be ashamed of loving to draw, since it was always fanart monsters, creatures and cool guys instead of "proper art" like animals and portraits. Before social media, I only drew for myself and never showed anything to anybody. I hid my art from my family, from the world, so that I wouldn't be judged. I think it is one of the biggest reasons why I have trouble interacting with people in the context of art (tbh I'm shit at being social anyway but that's a whole another problem).

Even when I had a scanner and means to post my art online, I never did, due to the whole "if you put something online it'll be there forever" mindset. My first actual account anywhere online must've been Facebook in 2010ish, where I only had a few friends. It was the perfect place for me to finally post anything online, and so I did: I used to post pretty much everything I drew on there. Slowly gaining courage, I eventually made my original Tumblr account, then Deviantart, Twitter, etc.

Still, all I did was throw my art out there in hopes of somebody liking it. I didn't really know how to interact with the people who commented on my posts, so instead I mostly just... made more art. I did have some friend groups here and there, but either they ended up falling apart or my social battery drained in such a way that I slowly drifted away. I had gotten used to just being by myself and relying only on myself in the online art world.

During my design studies, I started putting more thought and work on promoting myself, so that it could be one career path for me to take. My mindset was that I'll work hard and become "big", even if it meant that one post gained me just one follower. In 2020 I ended up going viral with a meme and suddenly getting tens of thousands of followers. It was great and a welcome boost of morale, but unfortunately 2020 was otherwise one of the worst years in my life.

Throughout the years people have come and gone, so the only constant for me has been myself, and my drive to develop my skills. Thus it's been too easy for me to just isolate myself. In a way it has been my strength with regards to art, but sometimes I wish I knew how to make lasting connections. I think/know I might be autistic to some degree, which adds to the difficulty of being social. Though, to be honest, I don't know if I'd gotten this far without my autistic hyperfixations.

I guess the thing I need to do now to fix this problem of loneliness and isolation is to just... slowly try and be more social. To reply to comments and talk to people. All of which is easier said than done. Still, just gotta take that first step and then keep going.

Despite lacking the kind of community I yearn for, it seems I've made a name for myself, enough so that people seem to take pride in knowing me. Or at least that's the impression I've gotten a few times. But still, I am happy that I've had a positive effect on people. After all, my two main motivators in art are that I like doing it, and I like when people enjoy my art.

#Teoft rambles

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zooliminology · 11 months ago

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Update/What's in the Future

[Hey guys, you probably have noticed that this is going to be likely the longest dry spell of real Zoolim content in a while. I apologize for this. Life has gotten in the way of a lot of things.

-I'm an art student in college, and last semester I didn't take any art classes so I was basically free to do whatever, but this semester I've taken three studio art classes, which are all very intensive and in honesty I would not recommend it! If you're a studio art student stick to 1-2 studio art classes a semester so you don't go insane please! I'm currently absolutely SWAMPED with work right now. -The Golbo video and the video that is imminently due this Tuesday (that i am writing this post about instead of working on) are the results of my New Media class. Considering the ten thousand million fucking art assets I have to draw for these it's been very time consuming (still want to do it though.) -A lot of life things have happened to me recently, not to be super personal but a family member of mine is sick and my living conditions are not the absolute Best, so it's been taking a heavy toll on my health.

All of these combined, especially the studio classes part because I've been bled dry of creativity energy relating to zoolim basically, has caused this dry spell basically. My hopes are that after the semester ends (which is soon) I'll be able to work on things more. I feel bad about not working on it more but I have to draw things other than zoolim to literally stay sane because it's a lot.

So I guess that leaves us with one question: what's in the future?

Well, a lot of things... maybe? I'm a little dry on entity ideas right now but i have a few, and I'd like to revisit some entities more and expand on them. And while I enjoy the videos and the non-entry ideas I have for material, I would also like to continue the 'traditional' paintings and entries. So I hope I can work on that alongside other things! I also have more ideas for videos, but considering how I have to do nearly all of the work, aside from the narration (thanks Darvinos) any video production will likely slow down dramatically after the semester is over. Until my next New Media class at least, but IDK if it will let me make the same shit.

I also have some deeper lore and a story semi-figured out, along with characters (you ever wonder who's taking the pictures? not the same person who's writing the captions!!!) but they would be hard to implement in this tumblr blog organically, so maybe they'll show up in some videos. I've thought of asking more people for help for this purpose, though I'd need to work out completely how that would work, and the moment that zoolim becomes more than some backrooms world i work on mostly by myself will become scary.

Sorry that this post is a big ramble, I hope yall understand and I swear the Longlegs video will come out pretty soon, it will be worked on again right after I post this lol. But please take care, and thank you for all the support you've shown me so far. It truly does mean a lot to me. I've said it several times but I'll say it again, I never imagined this shitty little art project about weird goobers in the backrooms would get so much attention lol.

ok end of post]

#ooc #zooliminology #update

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mock-arts · 2 months ago

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Plans for 2025

I sort of missed the season for resolutions, but my January was a little wild! So here are my vague plans and intentions for 2025 now.

I am trying to (1) take my IRL work and (2) my health more seriously, so I am generally trying to (3) cut back on fandom obligations. Mainly wrt big bangs.

Now, I know I have said for maybe the last three years running that I’m not going to do any bangs, and then I. Uh. Ran/participated in a bunch of bangs. But this time for real! I’ll only do a bang if it’s for a specific pairing I am currently really into. I must defeat FOMO. No more entire-fandom bangs and no more well-i-know-that-media-ig bangs.

I’m going to instead try and (4) focus on doing some projects with people that I already know I like working with — I’ve got some things that have been backburnered with at least one or two people. So if I have worked with you in the past and you are in my active fandom (currently marinating in batfam stuff, but that’s subject to change) maybe we can do a little project together 👀

I am not planning on participating in FTH this year, and I’ll only be doing commissions if someone offers me truly exorbitant amounts of money out of nowhere. I am planning on splashing out on the auctions for FTH myself though, I had a really excellent experience last year with both nyoomer and pallas rose. If I can even have half such a dope experience again this year, I would be deliriously happy.

I am also running the @badsexbingo but I’ve automated the whole thing so it shouldn’t require any real activity for me. I’ll be providing some updates to my bingo sheet maker once I figure out the best way to generalize some things. It automatically generates the bingo boards and emails them to people now. I’d maybe like to (5) make some more generalized fandom automation tools? Soft maybe on that though.

So that’s my thoughts on fandom! Recap on goals:

Take work more seriously

Take health more seriously

Step back from bangs and fandom projects with deadlines

Make art in collaboration with people I already know and like working with

Maybe make more fandom widgets and tools.

Some health and work stuff beneath the cut.

Health

I spent a solid chunk of time and money in 2024 running down a diagnosis for my fatigue, and I did get one! It took several thousand dollars out of pocket and multiple specialists, but hey! I got there. I am now working on making lifestyle changes to help the medication work better. So you know, normal boring shit like diet and exercise.

Several people around me, in both my husbands and my own family, died — not young precisely, but not old either — of cancer recently. I’m talking like 40s and 50s. This has pushed me and my brother to be a little more proactive about our health and swap more info on genetic flags and our diagnoses etc.

It’s also pushed me to try and sack more cash away so I can maybe retire before I fuckin die 😬 one side of the family is not making it past 85 and one side of the family gets over 100. Really hard to plan for!

For both health and wallet reasons, going to try to eat out less so I can sack cash away, but it’s like. Fuck doc, I work hard, I can’t have one vice?

Work

Work has been nuts for several years now, and I’m anticipating it continuing to be nuts. All that crazy has been the opportunity I anticipated though, so now I have to put in an extra burst of energy to capitalize on it.

My job offers opportunities for advancement as an individual contributor, so I am not going into management, but I do have to try for an elected technical leadership title :/ some of my cohort from my lab days has gone into early-career management positions by now so I guess it’s time.

I have good name recognition at this point so I feel like I have a good shot, if not this year then next year. But it’s time to put the paperwork together and start schmoozing. It’s exciting but also I’m fucking tired!

But yep that’s it that’s the plan.

And of course, you know, hunker down and endure the next four years while helping out where I can. I am unfortunately in a very red state.

#personal

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henrysglock · 1 year ago

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[Lumax voice] Turn Around, Look At What You See! In Their Face...

(If you couldn't already tell: I have finally lost all my marbles.)

I'm sure this has occurred to other people by now, but if El's memories leading up to the 4.07 monologue are ripped directly from Brenner's (<- slayful Nat post, required viewing), and she runs in to see One killing Two...then doesn't it stand to reason that that is what Brenner saw when he ran into the Rainbow Room in 1979?

Now before anyone hops in to correct me: There's definitely a version of things where Brenner finds El alone in the rainbow room after the massacre. That's not in question. We all know that happened at some point.

(Regardless of the manner of death...no broken bones or gouged eyes...okay!)

However, as I'm sure we're all aware...these guys are different guys.

(This detail has been beaten into the ground but always bears repeating)

So, what is in question is what close-up Brenner saw when he ran into the Rainbow Room.

Those duplicate memories appear to belong to close-up Brenner:

i.e. not the Brenner who runs in and sees El at the start of 4.08. (This isn't to say that that Brenner doesn't have those memories or similar ones, but he's not the Brenner whose memories are being featured. Begone, thot.)

So, arguably, if El has close-up Brenner's memories...then she should be running in and seeing what he saw, no?

So what did he see? Someone just slightly shorter than him, who walked close enough to warrant a tight shot.

That POV (as has been discussed ad nauseam by many) is far too tall to be any version of El:

But it is about the right height for someone a few inches shorter than Brenner...something like:

So, tl;dr: I want to play a clip for you.

I love choreography and camera work. That's art right there.

However, that video doesn't include the subtitling that accompanies the visuals that link El finding One to Brenner finding El:

Now, it's difficult to compare anything after this point (though not impossible, can't keep a south Wisconsin boy down. I will be using them for comparisons later)...because of course that's when weird, random blood starts appearing:

Hence, the clock is visibly frozen after that point:

This smacks, to me, of the same kind of shit that happened with 004 when the kids were bullying El—Scenes that never actually happened in the real past being spliced into a tape that cuts off and then picks back up like no time had passed/nothing had been spliced in. It makes more sense if you read the post I linked, since the video in that post makes my point clearly.

< TANGENTIALLY RELATED >

The anime nerd in me is tempted to liken this whole deal ^ to JJBA/DIO's time-stopping stand "The World" in...that's right...Stardust Crusaders, wherein DIO pause time for everyone but himself, which I'm certain others have done as well.

Tbqh...I'm still here:

Specifically a reference to The World/DIO vs Star Platium/Jotaro, both of which are time-stopping stands...(Much to think about irt Jotaro/Star Platinum developing time-stopping powers later on in terms of El, sure, but also in terms of "Everything was hard for [One]...He walked in here, and it was like something had changed. He told me he had figured it out.").

[Distant screaming as I'm forcefully prevented from going on a "Stardust Spider-Stardust Crusaders-Dio Brando-Joestar Family-Dio's Bone-Green Baby-Green, Green Grass of Home" tangent in this post...and don't get me started on DIO's regen healing/vampirism from the ancient stone mask...don't get me started on King Crimson and Golden Experience Requiem either...]

Not to mention the DIO reference with One linking this scene to (you guessed it) Edward Munson:

Edward Creel proven once again, but this time it's via goddamn JJBA and Brenner fuckery. (And yes, yes, I know about DIO the band. This ain't about her. Things can have multiple meanings. It was a Choice to associate Henward with DIO and Eddie with DIO. I rest my case.)

< ANYWAY, TANGENTS ASIDE >

As I said earlier, close-up Brenner is shot at a distance baby El could never have achieved. She passes out on the far side of the room, entirely too far away to have been anywhere near close enough for a close-up of Brenner's face, height aside.

However, ignoring the blood fuckery and disappearing gate cracks:

Some-One else has enough energy left to walk towards the doors. All the way over, in fact. So while those close-up shots are 100% out of range for post-gate baby El, they're very much in-range for 3:46 PM One.

Tl;dr: It's entirely possible, if not likely (based on the choreography and camera-work in these scenes) that close-up/angry Brenner was addressing One rather than baby El.

#st nina project #henry creel #el hopper #martin brenner #stranger things and jojo's bizarre adventure

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eyedelater · 6 months ago

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demon slayer notes

i started watching demon slayer, without having read the manga, at the urging of a family friend who is new to anime and insists it's extremely good. here are my thoughts on the anime and then the entire manga through to its end.

in this post, i appended followup notes to some points upon revisiting them because i had to make sure to go back and tell my past self what happened.

i watched episodes 1 through 20 without writing anything because i wasn't planning to. i watched many of those episodes on my phone, which is unusual for me, but i was traveling at the time. so i probably missed some finer visual details.

my impression of the show before i started, from having skimmed the start of its wikipedia page some months ago, was that it seemed to be relatively high quality but very formulaic Standard Shounen Fare, and it did not catch my interest. after watching 20 episodes, that opinion hasn't really changed. so many of the elements of the show are typical and just barely riff on extremely basic tropes. i'm sure there are many people who argue that demon slayer in fact drastically and ingeniously transforms those generic shounen tropes, but i'm not so sure about that. [followup note: the story does improve in terms of nuance later on, but i'm not retracting this paragraph.]

they did kind of an amazing job on the anime in terms of animation and effects. i should really rewatch those first 20 episodes on my computer screen so i can better appreciate it.

tanjirou is a very, very good boy. almost too good. where are his flaws? his internal monologues are always so apt. almost too apt. his backstory is of course compelling, but he hasn't won me over quite yet… i do like his headbutts, though… [followup note: i guess his flaw is his penchant for excessive self-sacrifice? which is one of those job interview "flaws" that is more likely to be a virtue.]

i'm looking forward to nezuko having more and more agency as the story progresses.

i'm looking forward to zenitsu learning to shut the fuck up more and more as the story progresses. i do have to give his voice actor a lot of credit for going completely all-out every time and never holding back.

i immediately love inosuke because he's a dumb bastard.

will tomioka giyuu fill the hayakawa aki-shaped hole in my heart by not being doomed? [followup note: not really. good for him not being doomed though!]

the art style is so samefacey… golden kamuy spoiled me…

the demon slayer corps seems to think it's hot shit and have many, many levels of hierarchy, but they're disorganized enough to regularly and greatly underestimate the threat of demons such that they keep sending their own fighters to their deaths. they need to work on their intelligence gathering, if nothing else.

all the hashira seem to care an awful lot about the life of the hypothetical person hypothetically killed by nezuko, but their organization is sloppy and heartless in its deploying of weak demon slayers. is this clumsy writing with plot holes, or is it a hint for the astute as to the organization's dirtiness and disorder? [followup note: i want to say it was the former or i guess neither. the master turns out to be really humble and kind to his hashiras. did he not grasp how bad a job they were doing wrt casualties?]

i like how sanemi's eyes continue to look insane even when he's calmly using polite speech

"My arms and legs are really short right now." ~zenitsu while his arms and legs are really short

i do hope boys watch this and come away with the idea that tanjirou's habit of intense and unconditional kindness is cool.

i did like when the girls told zenitsu to his face to be respectful to girls and he was humbled. [followup note: i discovered this was added into the anime and not present in the manga. good addition]

the last few seconds of the OP for the mugen train arc make it seem like rengoku is gonna die. (explicitly prepares my heart for that)

by the way, after the first season ended and we're on to the next arc, inosuke is still the best. i don't do it myself, but i enjoy watching others live life with true wild abandon. i really enjoy his kind of annoyingness more than zenitsu's.

rengoku is committed to never breaking eye contact with the camera

in ep2 of the train arc, tanjirou said "and where are you looking?!" (in japanese) to rengoku, but they translated it as "and when did you get so big?!" because i guess they felt like it would be a better visual joke because they animated rengoku really big? but they should've kept the "where are you looking?" because it's funny that tanjirou addressed what i was already thinking and had in fact written in the previous point. they did it twice in one episode too. is this going to be something we learn about rengoku? that he doesn't look at people? i thought we saw him look at people… [followup note: it's not. also the same joke was in the manga so they especially should have translated it right.]

rengoku said that black sword bearers never know which thing to master. obvious flag for "tanjiro's going to master them all of them and be the biggest baddest hashira in shounen history." too obvious (if i'm right) [i was wrong]

who's gonna tell gotouge-sensei that headbutts don't make your head bleed

prediction: kibutsuji targeted tanjirou's family because of their ancestry and some great prophecy about how that bloodline is fated to someday defeat him. he killed everyone who was home but thought that had to be all the kids because there were so many. he turned nezuko into a demon just to see what would happen and/or because he did actually remember the right number of kids and he wanted her to kill tanjirou. it may also turn out that kibutsuji was responsible for tanjirou's dad's death and/or the scars on both their heads. [followup note: i was wrong about a lot of this, but he did target them for their bloodline]

tanjirou gathered the courage to slit his own throat waaay too easily and quickly.

the netflix translator for the subs for the first few episodes (at least) of the train arc is taking far too many liberties for my liking. i wonder if the subs are different on crunchyroll, which i don't have. i should note that the first 20ish episodes i watched, i watched on a non-netflix non-crunchyroll site and i guess they were fan subs. but i didn't notice anything wrong with those subs.

"I fused my being with this entire train!" ok i've been giving this anime some shit for being predictable, but credit where credit is due, i did not expect that. that's really funny. i hate Lower One's voice btw.

i can tell that some, if not all, of the move names characters shout out are puns like the move names in one piece, but because there are no translation notes, i can't understand them :( [followup note: there aren't any in the official translation either :( and i looked up an unofficial translation and it didn't have any either :( i guess when i'm done with the manga i'll look at a wiki for the move name meanings… of course i dare not look at a wiki when spoilers are still a concern…] [followup followup: didn't care enough before posting this to look at the move name meanings]

anyone who has read my blog, you know what i'm gonna say about nipples, right? it's obvious, right? about inosuke's and others' empty chests. it's obvious. people will be like "you want explicit nipples depicted on the chests of TEEN BOYS?" no i want minimal abstract representations of nipples because everyone has them and it's normal and it's weirder to see a blank aladdin chest. this is about NIPPLE POSITIVITY. i will die on this hill time after time

if two guys are fighting a train together and they synchronize their breathing, is it gay

i liked when inosuke gently set injured tanjirou back down. character development

ok i REALLY dislike the netflix subs for these episodes. don't ADD shit. it's simple. just don't. you have to respect the author. you have to respect the author.

i prepared myself for rengoku's death. thanks for the hint, train arc OP. i see now that he was introduced to serve the purpose of character development for tanjirou.

the appeal of a stone-faced character like tomioka giyuu is twofold: a) they look cool all the time, and b) you develop a desire to see them emote.

tanjirou's gonna get yelled at for losing his sword again…

i like how akaza made it a point to beat up tanjirou's sword. to give us viewers closure as to whether tanjirou was gonna get that sword back.

i feel like i've seen an oversized amount of fanart involving rengoku, given the length of his lifespan in the show. (nothing i looked up, but just by osmosis.) is this like a portgas d. ace situation? i hate shipping ace with anyone because he's dead. or could it be that the character i've seen around was actually senjurou? doubtful

zenitsu's VA is doing a good job, like i said, but i bet zenitsu is a lot more lovable in the manga where you don't actually have to listen to him losing his shit…

i'll officially be mad if anything happens to inosuke.

uzui's three weed-smoking girlfriends…

so the boys are not even just infiltrating the houses of pleasure but they're aiming for the rank of oiran

tanjirou's bad lying face can't compete with luffy's bad lying face… sorry… [followup note: it was better in the manga]

inosuke who can get ahold of himself well enough to actually stfu and act like a girl… excellent

yeah fuck the translator for these netflix subs in the entertainment district arc too. you can't just write whatever you think would sound cool for their lines.

i have to find out the japanese for inosuke's catchphrase "comin' through" (according to this translation). wait i should just turn japanese captions on. ……there are no japanese captions… gimme a break…

they're literally in japan, literally wearing traditional japanese clothing, and they translate "obi" into "belt" instead of leaving it as is. am i overestimating how many people would know what an obi is........?

i do think it's a smart and interesting decision to explicitly section the anime into arcs instead of seasons, or rather, you could say, putting season breaks only at arc breaks. very smart.

uzui's own wife calls him tengen-sama? red flag

you know, i did have one major misconception about this story. i thought that the fact that yaiba is in the name would mean that tanjirou would inherit some particular sacred demon-obliterating blade and it would play a major part in the story (a predictable trope). but tanjirou in fact keeps destroying his swords. maybe that will actually happen later. [followup note: it didn't really. i mean tanjirou gets his one good sword later, but it's not like the sword is what wins the fight for him or anything.]

looked at tanjirou and thought "deku" tally: ||||||||||||||||||||||||

this story sure does have a lot of the protagonist's internal monologue. that's somewhat unusual for shounen, i feel like. is tanjirou just conjuring up text boxes all the time in the manga? i guess i'll have to read it after this… for completionism. [followup note: it seems the manga has an unnamed narrator who sometimes chimes in and they excluded that from the anime completely, instead relying on a combination of show-don't-tell and tanjirou narrating instead. not a bad choice.]

nezuko bit through her gag, which was really good, but she didn't immediately start talking, which is what should have happened. to remind us that she can. other demons can talk. [followup note: i see now that she is apparently left in a childlike state and has to relearn talking. ok]

(watches nezuko shrink back from grownup mode) self-infantilizing imouto…

ok, i figured out that the subs are just the lines from the dubs. that means my ire lies with whoever translated the lines for the netflix dubs. that's right, i'm not just gonna excuse it because i was mistaken about the source.

tanjirou looking at ezui and seeing rengoku's head appear next to him is 100% a death flag. his three weed-smoking wives are gonna mourn him at the end of this arc. it's gonna be the start of a pattern of tanjirou getting scarred by the loss of hashira after hashira right in front of him. [followup: glad for tanjirou that this didn't happen.]

by the way, i bet someone out there has something smart to say about uzui's three wives and what they mean for feminism. i don't care to think about it very hard though. but i know someone does.

zenitsu is conveniently asleep for a very long time in this very long battle

the budget for this anime must have been SO high. or the animators were seriously overworked. because there is so much love and so much hard work put into what seems like EVERY single shot. it's incredible. like some of these shots there's no logical need to go so hard but it's just sooo consistent that every shot has to have a life-changing amount of work put into it. i can't get over it.

(after entertainment arc ep9) i said i would be pissed if anything happened to inosuke, and i meant it. we'll see what happens from here. if inosuke dies, i'm not reading the manga. because i'm stubborn.

gyuutaro called tanjirou a bonkler…

this battle was already frustratingly long and now the defeated gyuutaro's dead defeated corpse had to release one last extremely destructive attack? according to what logic?

i like when nezuko has tanjirou on her back for once. reverse sibling onbu

this smells a lot more like hunter x hunter than hero academia or one piece. in terms of the character designs, to some degree, and everyone's penchant for talking a lot, and vibes. and i'm saying "smells" in my own way and not in a tanjirou way, okay?

they have IVs in the taisho era? with saline? i don't know anything about history.

does everyone in the sword village need the hyottoko mask? at all times?

i can tell by the OP of the sword village arc that demons will attack the sword village.

i really like the artistic choice of letting characters emote through their masks if necessary.

this son of a bitch has poison too? isn't this getting old?

i liked the little episode preview where kanroji is asked how she sheaths her sword and the answer is she simply just does. very good

of course even haganezuka turns out to be a hottie (rolls eyes emoji)

i don't want to call out gyokko here, but he could just put muichirou in the water vase again.

kibutsuji looks a lot less laughable without his stupid fucking hat.

so demons started existing because kibutsuji took weird medicine from his doctor?? [followup note: I Guess So.]

i guess i have to give gotouge-sensei credit for really sticking with the gimmick of the whole sword village wearing those masks.

i like genya.

tokitou's soft spot for tanjirou is really cute

i caught up with the anime without writing very much. i'm still blown away by the production value. speaking of blown away, i'm curious as to what happened to 2 of kagaya's 5 apparent daughters. [followup note: they really died.]

[{{{{{{{{caught up with the anime}}}}}}}}]

[{{{{{{{{comments below concern the manga}}}}}}}}]

inosuke lived, so i started reading the manga. i'm struck by the different feeling that tanjirou gives off. manga tanjirou seems a little more serious and less perky. maybe it has to do with the line delivery in the anime shaping my view of him (though the voice actor has done a great job). i did, at the beginning of the anime, get the strong early impression that tanjirou's voice was very "grown man trying hard to do a teen boy voice," and i cringed just a bit. but that feeling faded as the anime went on. i also assume the art style changes a lot as the manga progresses, such that the style resembles the anime's style more in later chapters. the anime seems to have done an amazing job of faithfully and precisely adapting the manga, at least for early chapters. i'm really jealous of the demon slayer anime on behalf of all the great mangas that got weird or lousy anime adaptations.

the babyface style of the early manga is also very strong. even giyuu looks like a little kid.

and genya's face in his first appearance is really funny. he got a glowup for the anime. whereas zenitsu looks 100% the same. i'm looking forward to inosuke's manga face.

i read a lot more of the manga without saying anything. i've gone on and on about the high quality of the anime, but i kind of feel like the manga is better. that is to say, the art feels very authentic and pure and full of love and care. manga tanjirou is just as much of a Very Good Boy as anime tanjirou, but without a certain feeling of Trying Very Hard. is it the voice?

the manga has a kind of Classic feel to it. not like it resembles any particular manga from the past, but more like, gotouge-sensei was aiming high and trying to make something evergreen. trying to forge a new classic.

and reading the manga was shocking because it's like, the anime is truly the most faithful adaptation i've ever seen. every scene feels like it's shot-for-shot-for-shot precisely what was in the manga, with every line carried over. practically nothing was left out. the spacing and timing of content was perfect; nothing was excessively crammed or stretched out. only a few things were added, like the scene with the bento sellers before the train arc (unless that came from some bonus chapter i never saw). but the additions feel normal and necessary. truly a staggeringly faithful and loving adaptation. why did they give demon slayer this exceptional treatment…? because reading the manga, it's like, this is good… but is it life-changingly good enough for them to have gone THIS all-out with the anime? i haven't decided yet. [followup note: i still haven't decided?? i might make future posts about this.]

right, demon slayer is solidly good, i would say, but on the whole, it's not quite For Me. that's because if i evaluate it by my old standby metric, the COCK test, it is decidedly NOT Completely unhinged, and there is a decided lack of Creatures. to be perfectly fair, i'm sure it Offends the church, and it does Kick ass. and really, if someone is just a bit less weirdly picky than me, this manga could change their life. but it's just not batshit insane enough to push all my buttons. i feel some hunter x hunter influence, but obviously hunter x hunter knew how to be insane enough. not that hunter x hunter does it all for me either.

it does get credit for having somewhat deeper and rounder characters than jujutsu kaisen. like at least they have an extremely strong reason to be doing what they're doing.

the manga is self-serious in a genuine way, and the anime feels self-serious in a very slightly phony way. though i don't mean they're overly self-serious. there is welcome comic relief in both. it's better in the manga but still well-translated into the anime (literal translations of the subtitles aside). and the comic relief is actually funny a lot of the time, which is more than i can say about jujutsu kaisen. this has been my obligatory shitting on jujutsu kaisen for the first time in a while. if you missed it, the story is that i gave jujutsu kaisen all the chances in the world for me to love it, but it disappointed me (and killed my favorite character for no reason).

i've been worried this whole time, not having a good sense of exactly how much chapters have been squashed or stretched, about how many chapters would remain after i caught up with the story as far as the anime went. but now i'm just about at the end of the hashira training arc (mansion just blew up) and there are still about 60 chapters left. that's sooo many. i was worried there wouldn't be much story left, but there is! that's good, because there's a lot left to explain.

i have noticed exactly what has been added to the anime adaptation. pretty much everything added was smart and suitable. although the extremely long approach of kibutsuji to kagaya's bedside was i think not so necessary. but yeah, fleshing out the training in the hashira arc a bit, going into slightly more detail on people's backstories, adding a few more character building moments, none of it feels irritating in any way. but if it turns out they added any zenitsu whining moments, that's unforgivable. there are already enough of those.

i bet huge inosuke fans were a little irritated at the casting of his voice. a true ruffian's voice that clashes to the extreme with his pretty face. i think it's pretty apt though. maybe a little too large-adult-sounding. but teenage boys are like that.

i've been reading an unofficial manga translation, not sure who it's by, and it's interesting to note which phrases were left untranslated in this compared to in the official translation. in this unofficial TL, why is oyakata-sama left as such instead of translating it to "master" when it's just a title that plainly means "master?" and in the netflix subs/dubs, why are hashira and hinokami kagura left untranslated? and yet both translated "obi" as either "belt" or "sash" when i think it could have safely been left as is. and why was "nichirin sword" left untranslated in both when you could just call it a sun blade or sun sword? is it because nichirin sounds too cool and japanese?

oh yeah, i kept thinking but kept forgetting to write: it's well known that demons are always eating humans, but we don't see them in the actual act of eating people very often at all. it seems they often like to just kill people, like weasels kill hens. for fun. but we have seem douma in the act of eating people note once but twice.

the unifying backstory of Everyone's family being killed by demons is getting a little old…

ok i remembered one bad thing the anime did. giving us that whole ridiculous nezuko montage when she was exposed to the sun and we thought she was gonna get obliterated. that was reeeally pushing it. trying that hard to fool us is just embarrassing for you.

so ubuyashiki kagaya became a father at the age of 15. no, younger, because kiriya has two (twin?) elder sisters. at least 14.

the two ubuyashiki girls did die… that's not cool… don't use them just to confuse kibutsuji…

zenitsu leveled up? zenitsu can work while awake now? maybe he'll also shut the fuck up?

…

i ended up staying up very, very late and read many dozens of chapters in one night and finished demon slayer. not the best circumstances for properly absorbing the story, but i did it anyway.

i was not prepared for genya to die and i think that should not have happened. we needed to see more of him and his future. i'll say it: it should have been sanemi instead. justice for genya.

i don't think that many hashiras needed to die… especially tokitou-kun didn't need to die so horribly... and i certainly didn't expect sanemi to be one of only 2 hashira survivors.

i guess we're just lucky that inosuke and zenitsu got away with all their limbs intact. limbs were dropping like flies for a while there.

i was satisfied with the reveal of the backstory about the tsugikuni brothers and how yoriichi entrusted his earrings and stuff to tanjirou's ancestral family.

i thought the final reveal that yoriichi's 13th move was all the other moves strung together didn't have an amazing payout in the end… did it? did i miss something big?

there was the Explicit mention, in dialogue, that kanroji and iguro and others may reincarnate happily. i wish gotouge-sensei would have allowed that to happen in the audience's imagination instead of having a timeskip chapter that shows everyone's descendants and reincarnations. it wasn't unbearable, but i didn't like it. also inosuke's descendant didn't go hog wild at all.

after reading the whole manga and no longer fearing spoilers, i finally looked up inosuke's catchphrase. i was very pleased to find out that it is chototsumoushin 猪突猛進, which is an existing four-character compound that includes the kanji for boar and means rushing recklessly (as a boar does). i knew there would be some degree of untranslatable nuance in there! the nuance is that that phrase definitely describes an undesirable act, but inosuke yells it with glee while rushing in recklessly, and that is perfect. it's like yelling "BULL IN A CHINA SHOP!" in the anime, one subtitle translation was "COMIN' THROUGH!" which is a little lifeless and completely missing any boar energy. my favorite translation is "BOAR RUSH!" because it carries the boar energy and makes it seem like he's shouting a move name when he's really just barreling around the hallway. i don't remember if i saw that one in the netflix translation or if it was a fansub. one more version i saw, in an unofficial manga translation, was "pig assault." that one's not a winner. it isn't even the kanji for pig; it's the kanji for boar. also if i had been watching the anime with earbuds it's entirely possible i would have been able to discern what inosuke was saying from the beginning, because i went back and he says it quite clearly, but that doesn't matter now.

i feel a little weird about making a whole long post about something i don't have crazy strong feelings about, but i wrote all this out, so... read my important opinions... sorry for saying "i guess" so much and using so many ellipses...

overall, i wish the ending was less bittersweet (i hate character death, as always) and dislike the timeskip chapter, but i still rate demon slayer (the story itself) as GOOD. that means it is worth watching and reading. there are several slots above GOOD on my personal rating scale, but GOOD isn't bad. it's GOOD. and that's what demon slayer is. someday i will probably rewatch and/or reread, and i'll keep up with the next anime season.

#demon slayer spoilers #kimetsu no yaiba spoilers #this is a liveblog #if demon slayer is your hyperfixation you might not like my frank opinions about it so be warned

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gengarguy27 · 8 hours ago

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Sky Reads Pact: Bonds 1.1

Hello everyone! Welcome to my first ever live blog! I've read 3 of Wildbow's works so far: those being Worm, Ward and Twig. Tread carefully if you haven't read those books as I will likely make comparisons to those books without care of spoilers so be warned.

Speaking of spoilers, be careful of what you say in replies and reblogs as I want to go in with a pure experience. I do know the magic system is based on belief and such and I've glimpsed fan art every now and then but otherwise I'd like a pure experience reading this. This also applies to "Teehee wait to you get to the next chapter!" Or "can't wait till you get to this arc!" And similar comments. Now with that out of the way let's begin!

There was a car, my parent’s or my uncle’s, no doubt, parked in the middle of the gates, at the foot of a long driveway, leading up to Hillsglade House. Symbolic, really, of everything that had gone on for most of my life. Symbolic of everything I had walked away from.

My uncle… I was guessing it was my uncle, had parked the car at the entrance of the driveway to force everyone else to find a place to park.

This is so needlessly petty it's kinda funny. Also hi Blake! Can't wait to find out all the horrible ways you suffer in this book!

Further down the street, a few of the locals had stopped on a corner to talk. Odd, how they kept looking at me.

I'm sure none of them will be future antagonists later in the story

Looking up at the namesake hill, I could see the house. Not big, but it drew attention because of the way it looked down on the two-theater podunk town. It wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t ominous. Barring a slightly overgrown garden, trees that had grown well beyond the quaint, tidy little decorations they might have been when the house was built, and the railing, it was nothing more than a nice house. I’d dated a wannabe-architect at one point, a brief-lived fling. I didn’t remember much, but I didn’t feel confident labeling the place as Victorian. Three stories, with a one-room tower standing one floor higher, off one corner. Gray-painted wood siding, decorative ‘lace’ in carved wood beneath the eaves and around the railing on the porch, tall, narrow windows with open shutters.

In fairness its a really nice house. Almost understand why the family is willing to fight tooth and nail over it.

If my uncle had parked nearer to the house, he could have spared himself and his family the walk. But no, the inconvenience he could pose to everyone else was apparently the top priority. I wasn’t surprised. I would have been stunned if there hadn’t been anything like this.

Again this level of pettiness is really funny to me. Like what is this guy's problem.

Photographs. Not a single family picture, I noticed. Instead, there were pictures of nature, blue and green to contrast the dark-lacquered cherry floorboards and furniture, the burgundy curtains. It made for a startling intensity, but it was jarring, overly saturated.

Ugh every paragraph makes this family seem worse and worse.

Without looking away from Ivy, I kept my voice calm, the tone almost light, so the vibe wouldn’t upset her. “How hard did you look, Dad? Mom? I got in touch with some of my old friends, you know. Seeing what happened. My friends, the only ones you actually called, said you stopped asking about me after a month.”

This line is interesting to me. Blake ran away from home to get away from his shit family but still feels hurt that they didn't try harder to look for him. Question is how would he have felt if they actually found him? Or dose part of him wish that they never stopped looking for him?

I smiled a little as Ivy reached out for my offered hand. Her hand seized my index finger, and I wiggled it, ‘shaking’ her hand. Besides, why devote any more attention to your son, when you could just start over? Have that beautiful baby girl you wanted, right?

Funny enough I'm having a family get together this Saturday and I'm eternally thankful that my relatives aren't this shitty to be around

“Nothing to say,” I said. “Is it okay if I send Ivy some presents for the special occasions? Birthdays, Christmas?”

“You don’t get to pick and choose,” my dad said. “Family isn’t a halfway thing.”

“Nevermind, then. If it’s one or the other, I’m out. Again.”

Poor Ivy. I don't blame Blake for not wanting to put up with hus relatives but Ivy should have at least one family member who isn't a shit head. Then again Blake probably isn't a perfect role model given how by his own admission he was easily swept up in the drama and arguing.

She reached out, arms extended for a hug, and I flinched. I stepped back, and nearly knocked a picture off the wall behind me as I bumped into the wall.

She looked stricken. Her arms dropped to her side. Her hair was done up in a french braid, and she looked as comfortable in her clothing as her older sister hadn’t. It was how she’d always been. Prim, proper, preppy. She was almost into her twenties, now, but I could see where she could easily be at home in the world of ties and pantsuits.

“No, I just-” I said. “I… reflex.”

I made myself reach out to hug her. It was clumsy, not natural in the slightest. Her head banged against my ear hard enough to be painful, her arms squeezed me in excessive care.

Jeez, Blake. What happened to you that you immediately flinch at the offer of a hug? (Lots and lots of trauma most likely)

“I was on the streets, just for a bit. It was worse than you’d think. A bit ago I met people, and I got help. I know how lucky I am, that I made it this far.”

Homelessness is already a pretty bleak situation to be in. What do you mean it was "worse then you think?"

There was no explaining just how bad it had been without having to explain why I hadn’t gone home. Pride, of an odd sort that drove someone down instead of raising them up.

*shutters* Both anxious and morbidily curious to know what the last straw for Blake was. (A good reminder to keep spoilers at a minimum in the replies and reblogs)

“You still keep in touch with the people from high school? Shannon? Miracle?”

“Mira. She’s finally going by a different name. No longer a testament to why immigrants shouldn’t let their kids choose their English names. She still asks about you, you know?”

I mean of all the names someone could pick "Miracle" isn't that cringy.

I remember how we used to make up stories about this place,” Paige said. “Gruesome ones.”

“Yeah,” Molly said, hugging herself tighter. “They weren’t all made up. That bit about great-grandpa and great-grandma being related?”

Eeewwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!

“The duel where one of our ancestors murdered someone?” Molly asked.

“Killed,” Paige said. “I don’t think it counts as murder if it’s during a duel.”

Was it a MAGIC duel, perhaps?👀

Paige?” the man in scrubs asked. Peter was standing next to him. Blond, like Paige, the same height and build, even the same general shape to his face. But when Uncle Paul and Aunt Steph had split up, each one had taken one of the twins.

That arrangement seems like its begging to only add to familial tensions.

“More than the property. It’s about old ladies glaring at me. Kids going after Chris on the playground, and it’s too quick and too mean for me to feel like it makes any sense. Feeling like I’m surrounded whenever I’m outside. Like a third of the people around here have decided we’re their mortal enemies.”

Small towns sure are something, huh? I know a good chunk of this book is Grandma's old enemies picking a fight with Blake, wonder what she did to pass off so many people.

I could remember my nights on the streets. Finding a place to set up camp, out of anyone else’s way. Even with the city lights, it was hard not to feel like danger was lurking just out of sight, waiting until my eyes were closed. In quieter areas, where the glow of the city hadn’t been there, where deeper shadows could have hidden anything, the feeling had been all the more intense.

Twice, I’d even been right. Both times, it had been people. The worst types of people. I still had scars. Some were physical.

Aw Blake. I'd offer you a hug but given what happened with Paige that probably wouldn't help matters.

When the door opened and both Paige and Peter stepped out, the arguing started right away.

“Fuck you, Peter. Fuck you!” Paige said. Even from the far end of the hallway, there were tears in her eyes.

Peter smirked. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“You don’t know anything, you asshole. Fuck you! I needed this.”

Told ya separating them would be a bad idea. My parents divorced and I could only imagine what would have happened to me and my sister's relationship if we went to each parent.

“What? You thought I’d be on your side? You only need money because Paul had too many kids to take care of any of them. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

“I think you and Ellie have demonstrated you aren’t worth the effort,” Uncle Paul said, his voice low. He’d approached Paige, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

God I'm surprised this hasn't gotten physically yet, these people are assholes.

She stepped away, instead. She was crying, now. “I thought you’d at least play fair, Peter. Maybe you have to be loyal to Ellie because you grew up with her, but I thought you’d be fair, with me. We’re supposed to have a connection.”

“You hear about twins eating one another in the womb,” Peter said. “Maybe I got some of your brains, huh? Because that’s fucking stupid.”

Paige stared at him, incredulous. Then she slapped him, hard.

Ah, there it is.

“Cutting in, Blake?” Callan asked. “I think you were lying, about not wanting any of this.”

Christ what is this guy's problem?

“Well, this is refreshing,” she finally said. Her voice was clear. Not an old person’s voice. Certainly not a ninety-year old’s. “It feels like all the rest of them are dressed like they can’t wait for my funeral. Or maybe they’re too cheap to buy two outfits for the occasion.”

I know it says she dosen't sound old but I can't help but hear Gertrude Robertson's voice from the magnus archives when she speaks.

“I’m thinking both of us are very lucky you have these two men here,” I said. I put one of my feet up on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, pointing at the trolley. “Because I’m angry enough I wouldn’t be above throwing that pitcher of water in your face.”

“I think that’s crude,” she said. “A more civilized person would use words to attack me.”

He just called you a rancid, evil cunt, what more do you want?

“You don’t deserve to die with dignity, you bitch,” I said. “And none of them are going to say it, because you’re playing them. Since I’m the only one that doesn’t give a fuck about the money, I figure I’m the only one that can come here and say it how it is. You’re scum, and you’re the one thing at the root of everything that’s going on out there.”

I pointed at the door. I could almost hear the shouting on the other side.

“I would argue they are at the roots of their individual problems. I didn’t make them petty, I didn’t make them greedy,” she said. She sighed a little. “This ridiculous money business.”

I mean both can be true at ounce.

“You took advantage of those things, making all of this one big fucked up game. Laying down the rule, that only one person gets the property and the millions from selling it. Then you say it has to be a grandchild-“

“My children are useless,” she said. She was so dismissive and casual about it.

“-And then you drop the bomb that it has to be a girl. You broke up this family, you did it strategically. You set us tooth and nail against one another, and now you’re enjoying tearing the others down, ruining their hopes.”

That dose seem like a weirdly specific clause to one's inheritance. Wonder if some magic shenanigans are behind it.

“Close to the truth, I admit, but I consider myself honest, if nothing else.”

“Weren’t you a lawyer?”

“I am a lawyer, Master Blake, and I expect to be one until I pass on. I’m disappointed that you would make assumptions about a whole profession.”

Wonder if being a lawyer helps with doing magic in this universe, hey what's this book called again?

“You remind me of my father,” she said. “He had passion, and an interest in justice.”

“He also fucked his cousin, if I remember right.”

Ugh what a flattering comparison.

"Not an option,” she said. She stroked the cat, scratching him at the lowest part of his back, just in front of his tail. “The house stands. I’m picking the young lady who I feel can look after it.”

Again with what little I know about the magic system I'm curious if there's a specific reason that the scion has to be a girl.

“When you first spoke to me, you said, ‘All due respect’. Did you mean it?”

I didn’t look at her. “All due respect, you’re a festering old cunt? One hundred percent.”

Ooohh I bet Blake unknowingly said some magic trigger phrase that's gonna fuck him over soon!

My grandmother nodded. “Rich, you’ve been wonderful. I set aside some money already, to thank you.”

The nurse looked stunned. He looked at my family. “No. It’s not allowed.”

“I insist. Take it and give it to a favorite charity, if you must.”

Even then, he looked a little taken aback.

He probably thinks my family’s going to come after him if he accepts.

And your probably right. Feel bad for the nurse though, I certainly wouldn't want to be put in his situation.

“Granny? Why didn’t you pick me?” Little Roxanne piped up. The youngest, next to my new baby sister Ivy.

“Granny!” Roxanne raised her voice, more than a little shrill. “You don’t love me enough to give me anything?”

Jesus even the kid is making a bid to get the money what the fuck? Unless her parents put her up to it, which seems in character from what I've seen so far.

I watched as the nurse approached the bedside. He touched my grandmother’s hand.

Things went quiet very quickly.

Nurse Rich looked at his watch. “Two past twelve.”

The arguing had distracted him. The time was off by two minutes.

My grandmother and her cat were both dead.

Wait, what? Was she fated to die on the stroke if midnight? Or did the nurse being distracted mean she died somehow?

"Listen,” my uncle said, broaching the near-silence. “We should have a sit down, talk about the sale of the property, when the time comes, a division of the funds-“

Yeah because if there's one thing this family has proved its that your all capable of respectfully and civilly dividing up money.

I made my way down the path. My Uncle’s car pulled out, and I saw the younger kids in the windows, staring at me.

I stopped short as I saw my bike.

Tipped over in a way that had scraped it hard against the stone wall. Headlight and taillight broken.

How petulant do you have to be to knock over blake's bike when he didn't even fucking inherit anything?

Four months later.

I tossed and turned in my bed, fighting to kick the covers off. It didn’t help. I felt a pressure on top of me, pressing me down. My movements were sluggish.

Huh, weird place for a time skip but you have my attention.

"The metronome?”

“Something big just happened,” the girl said. “Told you. Just now, I told you.”

“You’ve been ‘telling’ me for a while now. This doesn’t mean we should do anything.”

“You’ve got no balls, no balls. We should investigate, and, just to be safe, we should investigate with weapons in hand.”

Huh this is a weird dream sequence. I presume it's Grandma's enemies reacting to her death?

“Cold-forged iron,” he responded, a little sullen. “Bone. Paper. Every other follows different rule. What looks like a goblin could be a demon, or a wraith, or a glamour. I mean, you remember those ‘vampires’ from out west.”

“The faerie? Sure.”

“You’re not getting what I’m saying. If they can fool themselves into thinking they’re vampires, and believe it to the point it becomes sort of true, sparkly skin aside, then they can fool us. This is what bothers me about all this. You can’t make any guarantees, you can’t slap on convenient labels. It’s why we call them others. You can’t plot-”

“We can try. And if we can murder self-deluding faerie, we can murder whatever this is.”

Oooh this is really cool! Changing reality through belief is one of my favourite story telling tropes. Can't wait to see how the Otherverse handles it.

“Right. Thanks,” she said. “I’ll figure it out myself, Padraic. I hope it’s a noob. Be nice to not be the rookie on the block.”

Padraic, interesting to see an Irish name in this story. Though the well its spelt and the fact this is presumably set in America makes me think the characters might pronounce it "Pa-drack"

The dog looked up. It spoke, “Johannes.”

“Mm,” the man in the throne said. “‘Lo, stranger. Listen, I don’t think you should believe what any of them say about me. If you need help, I can offer it.”

“For a price,” the dog added."

“For a price. Resist the urge to dismiss what you just saw, you’re in a bad enough situation as it stands. Now do yourself a favor and wake up.”

Again can't help but feel like we're being introduced to the Rogue's gallery of this story.

It wasn’t my face in the mirror above the sink. Nor my body. A girl looked at me, her forehead creased in worry. She was wearing a camisole and pyjama bottoms. She looked strangely familiar.

I had to touch my own chest and face to verify it wasn’t my reflection. I was shirtless, wearing different pants. Her movements didn’t follow mine

Is this the legendary Rose Thorburn I've heard so much about?

“Molly’s dead? She was supposed to call if there was trouble.”

“Blake, I get it. I do. But you’re next, understand? Grandmother made other arrangements, and those arrangements just came into play. The house is in your custody now, and so are all of Grandmother’s enemies. Understand? She has a lot. The house is sanctuary, Blake. Molly died because she panicked, and she left the safe ground. Don’t make that same mistake. Move. Run.”

Damn this is such a climatic way to end the chapter. Can't wait to continue!

Overall this was a great start to the story, certainly a better opening chapter then Worm's. I'm not sure how often I'm gonna do these chapters but probably every other day makes sense.

#wildbow #pactblr #Pact #pact web serial #web serial #Sky Reads Pact #Sky Reads Pact Arc 1 #otherverse

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plum-pitt · 1 year ago

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Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings’ usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #thoughts from the pit #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt

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