#and then it's 'if you keep asking why what is the cause of the problem'

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x fem!reader

This is part of tramps like us, but can be read as a stand-alone (you might be lost with some details but overall it should be fine). I’m making this separate because I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you are reading the series, you can skip this if you aren’t interested!!

Summary: You finally bite the bullet on one of your most sought after kinks.

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist ✧.┊read on AO3〙

WC: 3.4k+

CW/includes: gunplay/CNC roleplay, dirty talk, teensy bit of hurt/comfort in the beginning, discussing safe sex and boundaries, bdsm elements, dacryphilia, oral (m & f receiving), object insertion 🫣, toys, minor spoiler details for the series (also gator is on the softer side in this series, so if you’re not into that this isn’t the fic for you)

A/N: yes. I know. The wedding chapter should’ve been next, but look, I’m finishing it up finally. This idea came to me for the holiday (I’m a day late don’t @ me), and who am I to turn down an opportunity to slut out? Friendly reminder THIS IS FICTIONAL and though I went the “safer” route in writing gunplay, please do not take this (or any of my fics) as advice for your own sex life lol. Everything in this is between two consenting adults, and I tried my best to research but I know nothing about guns irl lmao. If anything’s inaccurate just look the other way. hope y’all that read this enjoy it <3 (divider cred: @/saradika-graphics)

ch. 10 ✧.┊

sick thoughts - Lou Bliss

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ look what you’ve caused / you got ‘em too / sick thoughts ♬ ₊˚.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, you find Gator sitting in the kitchen, enjoying a bagel in the quiet morning hours. As you pour your coffee, you decide to pop the question, one that’s been on your mind for quite some time:

“You think it’s possible to safely fuck a gun?”

Gator sputters and coughs, bagel pieces flying onto the table as he clears his throat. Sipping from your mug, you wait patiently for him to regain composure.

He coughs out, “What the fuck?”

“Well, that’s not the reaction I expected,” you frown, pulling out a chair at the table to sit across from him. “Sorry, it’s just… been on my mind a lot.”

“I thought this was all an ‘in theory’ kinda kink?” Gator gulps down water, eyes misty from coughing so much. Okay. Yeah. Maybe this was a bad time to spring the question.

“Yeah, it is. It was. Kinda. I don’t know. I’m just asking!” You shrug, staring down at your mug. “You know I don’t know a damn thing about guns.”

He sighs with a serious expression, one that’s rare, even for him. “Darlin’, this ain’t somethin’ to mess around with.”

Brows furrowing, you scoff, “Since when do you care about safety? We’ve done knife play already!”

“Since ya’ told me about this to begin with,” he runs a hand down his face, stressed already. “I was gonna teach ya’ some shit last year, remember? And knife play’s dangerous too, but this is beyond that.”

“Yeah, yeah, and the timing was bad, and we never got around to it— so teach me now.”

Gator leans forward on the table, cautiously studying your face. “Why now?”

Embarrassment floods through you, keeping you tight lipped. You shake your head, leaving the table. “Forget it. You’re right.” You flop onto the couch, sighing, feeling ridiculous for even bringing it up.

“No, c’mon. Don’t be like that,” he groans as he follows you, dropping onto the couch, cuddling up against your side. “Somethin’ else is goin’ on.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid if it’s botherin’ you, that’s what you’re always tellin’ me.” Gator hooks an arm around your waist, nudging you onto his lap. With ease, you settle against him, sighing again. His arms wrap around your waist, holding firmly. “M’gonna hold ya’ hostage here ‘til ya’ tell me what’s up.”

“Everything’s been so… perfect, and I feel off. And I hate that I feel off.” You wind your arms around his shoulders, resting your head on one of them. “There’s always been some kinda pain or traumatic bullshit goin’ on, I got used to it after awhile. But now… I- I don’t know what to do with myself. Nothing is wrong, I have everything I need, everyone I need, but I feel like something’s wrong and I feel so guilty for that. It feels bad, and it shouldn’t. Does that make any sense? ‘Cause it doesn’t make any damn sense to me.”

“We both were raised horribly, so it makes sense that’s kinda all we know… or knew for awhile. It makes sense to me.” He shrugs, trying to reassure you.

Sitting up, you dare to look him in the eye, bottom lip trembling. “Life feels so weird without the constant fight or flight… does that make me a bad person for missing it?”

He doesn’t answer you, only asks, “You’re still doin’ therapy, right?”

You huff, “Yeah. We talk about it. Just not… y’know… The gun play part.”

“Darlin’, a gun play scene ain’t gonna fix it. I know how big the trust is for ya’, but I’m not risking it.” Gator’s fingers dance along your spine in soothing repetitions. “I haven’t handled a gun in over a year, I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“I know that, but I just… I want to feel something. But what I don’t want is to make you uncomfortable, so let’s forget it, okay? M’sorry for saying anything, I really didn’t mean to pressure you—“

He grabs your chin softly, tilting your face to look at him. 

“We can role play. It’s not the same, but it ain’t lethal, at least. Use a fake training gun, one that feels real, just ain’t functional. We go over the entire scene, what we want and don’t want, and if you’re comfortable with that, then I am, too.”

It might not be exactly what you wanted, but you knew Gator was right. Plus, you were kind of proud he was taking initiative to be safe with a scene; maybe you’ve corrupted him, but at least he’s being smart about it.

“Okay, as long as you’re comfortable, I am, too.” You kiss him softly. “I love you. Thank you.”

“Love you too, Darlin’.”

Everything down to the most minuscule details were discussed between you and Gator; what you wanted, what your hard limits were in a scene like this, choosing the traffic light system over a safeword, the kinds of replica firearms you were both comfortable with, so on.

Turns out, NYC’s gun laws are rigid even with prop guns, too. Gator was very serious, even about this; the replica was not to leave the house, ever. Which, okay, yeah, makes sense. You had no issue with that.

Valentine’s Day had a window of several hours where no one else would be home, out for plans or work, which you figured was perfect timing; though no one could hear you in the apartment, now that the vent’s fixed, you still wanted to play it completely safe.

Honestly, you tried to forget about the plan. Tried to ignore the details of the scene, but all day at work, your mind could only daydream of it. You may or may not have spaced out on a few customers, or dropped more than a few books dreaming of the possibilities of what could happen.

Didn’t help much how soaked you were just from those thoughts alone.

When you finally arrived home, the lights were off throughout the whole house, adding to the thrill. Cautiously, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, fumbling with your keys, hands shaking with excitement.

They slip from your fingers when something pokes the middle of your back, cool and hard. You freeze.

Oh, fuck.

“Go ‘head,” he rasps in your ear from behind, “Pick ‘em up, pretty girl.”

You expected to find Gator on the other side of the door, not out here; that was never decided on, you just assumed, and the surprise had you trembling already.

Slowly, you crouch down, hands grabbing at nothing in the dark. It takes a few tries until the metal jingles against your fingers. You bounce back up, unlocking the door, yet hesitating to open it.

“It’d be a shame if ya’ didn’t invite me in, princess.”

You nod wordlessly, stepping into the dark apartment, feeling the weapon as it prods at your spine while he follows you inside.

“Y- you know, my boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute—“

“Yeah? The former cop?” He breathes down your neck, licking a stripe up to the shell of your ear. “Heard he’s gone soft, bet he won’t do shit.”

You didn’t expect him to get so into this, but you’re loving it.

“Shut up,” you warn, but it comes out in a shaky whisper. Gator pushes the weapon into your back a little further.

“Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do.” He nudges you towards the staircase. “Go on, show me where your toy box is so we can play.”

Dropping your things by the door, you make the slow journey across the apartment to the stairs, a little too slow for his liking. Gator pushes the muzzle into your back, grunting.

When you reach the loft bedroom, he asks softly, “Color?”

“Green,” you answer without hesitation, nodding eagerly. 

“Strip for me.” Gator flips the light on, casting a dim glow to the bedroom. With trembling hands, you remove your sweater and miniskirt, kicking your shoes off to leave you in the lingerie set he got you for Christmas, and your thigh highs.

When you look up, he’s perched on the edge of the bed in camo pants, combat boots, gun holster and bomber jacket, with a balaclava covering his face. Next to him is the replica gun— jesus, it’s a rifle, and it looks real.

He whistles lowly,  “Gon’ look so good on your knees f’me.” He beckons you over, and though hesitant, you obey. Spreading his legs, he leans down close, running a hand through your hair to tug. “Where’s your toys, princess?”

You glower his way. When you don’t answer, he pulls on your hair harder.

“Ah! T- top drawer!”

Gator releases you roughly, “Stay.” He finds his way over to the drawer, rummaging around for a bit until he settles on a toy. Kneeling behind you, he smacks your ass. “Up, on your knees, keep ‘em spread.” You comply, whimpering as you feel silk bondage rope wind around your thigh, with something attached. Shit. It’s your wand, pressed snugly against your clothed core.

“Look at that… you’re fuckin’ soaked already.”

“Shut up!”

Cuffing your hands behind your back, he mutters, “Wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you.” He flicks the wand on, immediately jolting your body forward. You catch your balance, whining as you steady yourself on your knees. 

Rounding you, Gator sits back on the bed, unzipping his pants. You bite your lip, hoping to stifle any moans eager to already escape.

He removes a pistol from his holster, smirking wickedly down at you. Gently nudging the muzzle against your lips, he murmurs, “Open.” You obey, feeling the cool, heavy metal breach just past your lips. “Lick.” Dragging your tongue along the barrel, you glance up at Gator, watching his eyes darken through his mask. “Suck.”

At first, you don’t take much in, until he begins to meet the bobbing of your head with several pushes. The barrel lays heavy on your tongue, gagging when he pushes it once more. He pulls it out completely, chuckling as you drool all over yourself, panting and squirming against the vibrator.

“Pathetic slut. You’re close already, huh?”

You shake your head, choking back another moan.

“S’okay to like it,” Gator caresses your cheek, smirking at the tears already building in your eyes. “I won’t tell your boyfriend.”

“Please…”

“Please… what? C’mon, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” He shoves the muzzle into your cheek, rough enough to probably leave an imprint. “You got three seconds to start talkin’, princess.”

You shake your head again, frantic, eyes scrunching shut.

“Three… two… o—“

“Pl- please! I’ll do anything, don’t— don’t—“ A gasp is caught in your throat, and Gator’s about to check in again, but you babble out, “I’ll be good for you! Just let me cum, I’ll be so good, I won’t— I won’t say anything!”

His wicked grin is back, pulling the gun away before sickly praising you, “There she is, there’s the good girl I came to play with.” He grabs your chin, and you wince, a sob falling from your lips as you allow yourself to give into the pleasure.

“I’ll let you cum as much as ya’ want, but m’gonna keep that pretty mouth busy.” His hand winds through your hair, tugging you into his crotch. “Show me how bad ya’ want it.”

You whimper against his bulge, nuzzling as it hardens under his clothes. He pulls his pants down, grabbing the back of your head to shove your face against him again. You lap at the firm length through his briefs, soaking a dark spot next to another he started on his own.

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s wet,” you mutter. Gator grabs you by the hair again, forcing you to look up at him.

“What’d you say?”

“I said you’re wet too, prick.” You’re getting too mouthy, so Gator shoves the gun up to your head. Immediately you break into a sweat with unsteady breathing. “M’sorry, m’sorry!”

Both the gun and his hand fall away, freeing himself from his briefs. His length slaps against his tummy, precum leaking from the tip.

You don’t wait for his instruction, just dive in, licking a broad stripe up his shaft, taking him into your mouth in one fluid motion. You force yourself down as far as your throat allows, throwing Gator off with a shout.

He knows he won’t last long.

“Fuck— fuck—“ He bucks up into your face, shuddering as you gag around him. He begins fucking your face, easily reaching his high when he feels your moans vibrate around his cock, while watching mascara run down your face. His length twitches and pulses on your tongue, release shooting to the back of your throat. “Such a—“ he thrusts “-good-“ thrusts again “-fuckin’-“ and one more time, holding your face against the thatch of curls at his base  “-girl.”

Your orgasm hits, catching you by surprise as you were so distracted while Gator used you. Again, by the crown of your head, he yanks you back by your hair, watching with sick pleasure as you cry out your climax.

“Poor thing’s spent already, what a shame.”

“No, n- no I can keep going, please, I wanna, I need to,” you babble,  unbothered by how much of a disaster you must look like right now.

He looks down between your legs, watching as you drip through your panties, licking his lips. “Up.” His arms hook under your own, lifting you up onto shaky legs. You’re barely on your feet for long before he pushes you into the bed, face first.

Gator’s behind you, grabbing your hips to lift your ass up, giving a hard smack to your backside. Untying your wand from your leg, he pulls your panties down, sliding them off your legs and rounding the bed.

Crouching down next to you, he pets your hair out of your face, gently caressing his fingers against your scalp. 

“You know what to do if ya’ can’t verbally give me your color, right?” His voice matches his tender touch, and you nod. “Can you show me?”

Sliding his hand under yours, still cuffed behind your back, you tap his hand once “Green,” two times, “yellow”, and three times, “red.”

“That’s my girl,” Gator kisses your cheek, leaving you with a soft smile. “Color?”

“Green.” Your dazed demeanor and pleased expression are a contrast to the smeared, tear-stained makeup on your face. He takes the consent to continue, leaving to stand behind you again.

Spreading his hands against your backside, he caresses your soft skin, groping at the plushest parts of your curves.

“Who knew a pretty thing like you’d get turned on when you’re scared…” His breath fans against your core, lapping once through your folds. You jolt with a whine, wrists weakly fighting against your cuffs. “Fuck, that’s good,” he hisses, delving back in while spreading your thighs apart. 

Gagged, you moan into the fabric, tongue catching your own essence.

“Imagine what your man would think, seein’ ya’ like this… just wait ‘til I really ruin ya’.” He slurps lewdly, groaning into your folds as he laps up the slick arousal. “You’re gettin’ married soon, huh? Ain’t gonna be one part of ya’ left that’s innocent when I’m through with ya’.” He slips a finger inside, right as you clench over his words with a high pitched whine. “Shit… you like that? Want me to ruin ya’?”

You hum a pathetic, weepy, “Mhm,” into the gag, nodding against the pillows. You’re floating, and you don’t ever want to come down.

“You need this, don’t you?” Another finger slides in, curling perfectly into that delicious spot that craves attention. “Ain’t enough t’get fucked, gotta be threatened and thrown around a bit…” He pumps his hand harder, tongue flitting out to your clit. Your toes curl and back arches as the bliss builds. 

Again, you agree with a shameful noise.

“Got a surprise for ya’, princess.” Mouth and touch disappearing, you let out a soft sob, wrists pathetically attempting to break free. He grabs your wrists, pinning them to your back roughly. “Stay still, don’t want ya’ gettin’ hurt… yet.”

That familiar sensation of cool metal against your body slips between your folds. It grazes your clit, hips twitching with the desire to roll. 

“Bet you ain’t been fucked with a gun before,” Gator’s voice is low, focused and gravelly as he nestles the barrel against your core, folds puffing out on each side as you drip down onto the weapon. “Bet it’s a real wet dream for ya’… but don’t worry, s’gonna be a reality soon.”

You stay still, painfully stiff while all kinds of desperate little sounds slip out of your gagged mouth. Breaths falling shallow, you feel the barrel slide down to your entrance, muzzle nudging against the hole’s edge.

Gator spits onto your entrance, teasingly inching the gun in; it’s smoother than you expected, easier to take than anticipated, too, with its slim build. It feels like the rifle, and your guess makes you lightheaded.

He pumps it slowly, reaching deeper inside you, observing your expression; you’re gone, maxed out in bliss as your eyes roll back and you tremble around the rifle. 

“I’d kill to see ya’ get spitroasted with a gun on each end…” He mutters, pumping the firearm a little faster. “Look at you… a fuckin’ wreck. Would it make ya’ cum, knowin’ I got my finger on the trigger?”

Crying out into your gag, you do exactly as he had hoped, convulsing around the barrel of the gun as the shock of your orgasm speeds through you. Even in role play, the perilous weight of his words bring you to the edge with ease.

Jesus fucking christ I’m fucked up.

Cursing under his breath, Gator is careful as he cautiously takes the replica out of you, allowing you to collapse onto your stomach as you catch your breath. Through bleary eyes, you watch as he comes closer, eye contact strong and stern as he licks the aftermath off the rifle.

“Fuck, tha’s’hot,” you rasp out. He chuckles, setting it aside while crouching back down to you. When he pulls the mask off, you frown. “We’re done?”

“Think so, Darlin’, you’re pretty spent.” Even Gator’s winded, but more-so emotional than physical. His cheeks are flushed red, lips glistening with your slick. He cradles your face in his hand, “Did so damn good for me.”

“You didn’t finish.” You hate that he went through all this trouble to please you, but he shrugs, smirking.

“I did once, but I didn’t need to, this was ‘bout you.” He stretches over your back, unlocking the cuffs, gently turning you onto your back. He brings your wrists up to his lips, kissing the tender skin. “Just takes more out of me than I expected.”

Your lips turn downward again, “I’m sorry, Gator. I didn’t mean to pressure you into all of this—“

“You kiddin’ me? That was so hot,” he breathily laughs. While stripping the rest of his clothes, he adds, “Just gonna take some gettin’ used to, but I liked it if you did.” He climbs into bed with you, embracing you flush against his figure. “We can play again sometime, if you want.”

“Yeah, s’long as we’re in the right headspace for it.” You nod giddily, but a smidge of shame works its way through your post-orgasm bliss. “You don’t think of me any differently, do you?”

Gator leans back, brows furrowed down at you. “What? Fuck no. Why? ‘Cause you liked this? No way.” Cupping your cheek again, you lean into his palm, warm and comforting. “I told ya’, I like exploring this shit with you, and this was somethin’ I always wanted you to be safe with.”

You kiss his cheek, “Thank you for trying new stuff with me, and keepin’ me safe. Although…” you cringe, “Even though I trust you, m’really glad we stuck to prop guns. I was fucking nuts for even thinkin’ I could handle the real thing.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, “So it didn’t ruin the scene?”

“Nope, felt it was easier to slip into subspace without that extra… stress.”

The two of you continue talking about the scene; the more you practice this part of aftercare, the easier it’s becoming to discuss your likes and dislikes with little to no shame. 

“We should probably clean ourselves up,” Gator groans, not ready to move. “Might have to skip goin’ out tonight.”

“S’okay, we can get one of those cheesy heart shaped pizzas,” you snuggle into his chest. “The place ‘round the corner does ‘em for the holiday.”

He snorts, “Nothing says romance like a pretend break-in and heart shaped pizza for date night.” You pinch his cheek and he swats your hand away. “Ow!”

“C’mon,” you pull him out of bed with you, joking, “let’s go wash the filth and shame away first.”

[lemotmo]

💛

Q. I'm sorry your inbox was such a mess yesterday. I understand the need to block people after a while, but please don't close your inbox. Your blog and others really do provide a service for those of us who sometimes just require a little more explanation.

A. Hi, anon. Yesterday was a lot for my inbox. I had over a hundred messages and the vast majority were freakouts over an interview that just simply did not do anything to cause that kind of chaos. There was just no need for people to have spiraled like that. It was a really lovely interview and I was shocked by the amount of people who flat out missed everything he was saying, and then had the nerve to get upset at those of us they were asking for help from to try and understand it.

It is a given that there are going to be people upset about the direction the storyline appears to be going, that's true of anything people watch. But I am stunned by the number of people who genuinely seem to believe that they can just say 'no that's not what's happening because that's not how I interpret the scenes' and then have the audacity to say that everyone who is allowing the actual text to lead their opinions are simply bullying them. I had several messages yesterday accusing me of trying to bully people into agreeing with me because I refused to accept that everything is open for individual interpretation. That is simply false. It has never been true. Yes, people see things differently. And people can have differing opinions but when one side of the conversation is supported by the actual text and canon facts then that side is allowed to tell you your interpretation is not supported by what we're actually seeing. That's not bullying people. Of course people can choose to ignore what they're not enjoying but not liking it and deciding to ignore it doesn't stop it from being true. It's absolutely bonkers to me how many people keep saying things like 'it's not happening because none of them are saying outright this is the direction we're going'. That has never been something television shows do and it is beyond wild to me that there's a group of people screaming that if they don't say it out loud then we're just lying because we want it so badly. I have never encountered anything like this in all my years of fandom. There's always been antis. They exist in every fandom. There's always been people who watch and engage simply to hate on things. None of that is new but the amount of people who have convinced themselves outright that as long as they don't see it that way, or refuse to acknowledge it, means it's not happening, and everyone else has to agree with them or we're the actual problem, is absolutely wild to me. Everyone can have an opinion. You can believe what you want. But the truth will always be that the argument most supported by the actual text of something is the 'opinion' that's most likely the correct one. That doesn't make us bullies. We're not going from inbox to inbox yelling at people for refusing to acknowledge what were actually seeing on screen. People can pretend they don't see or understand something all they want. No one can prevent that. But if you're coming to ask us to explain something or help you understand why we're saying something and we offer you canon proof to back up what we're saying and you come back immediately after and argue that none of that means anything because Ryan didn't say Eddie is gay in and in love with Buck in an interview is a whole other level of insane. That's never been how any of this works. And what's even more wild is that most of you supposedly want them together so the fact that there's all this canon evidence to suggest that it's going to happen and you still want to find ways to yell that it's actually not happening is an exercise in self infected misery and I'm simply not going to help people do that anymore. I'm more than happy to explain things if I can to people who just genuinely need a little bit more help, that happens and that's fine. I'm more than happy and willing to do that. But going forward I will not be engaging with anyone being intentionally irrational and deliberately obtuse. I'm not doing that to myself anymore. It's been almost a year and I'm exhausted. What we've been getting is genuinely exciting and I want to enjoy it, all of it. Most of us do and we've earned the right to enjoy this. Come be part of the excitement if you want, but no one is forcing you to be here. We've reached the good place. Let us enjoy it, and let yourself enjoy it. I have no plans to close my inbox. I'm just going to stop answering certain things. Thank you for the lovely message, anon. I'm always happy to talk about it and them, to anyone who genuinely wants to talk. 🩷

Thank you Nonny!

Now to be completely clear here, the interview Ali is talking about in her answer is the Ryan interview. I got this post Friday morning, so this was pre Oliver's NBA celebrity interview.

Yes yes yes to all of this! I cannot agree more.

I don't really have anything to add here. Everything that needed to be said was said. I'm also at the point where I just want to enjoy the story we are getting. Join us!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[yoiiyoii]

Akaza and Giyuu parallels post cause I can't stand how little it's discussed:

"You are not weak"

First few panels of the fight: Both of them talking about how Tanjirou is not weak anymore. Because of that, he gets to keep his dignity (and yeah, both Akaza and Giyuu do directly equate strength with dignity - explained more later).

Fighting Enthusiasm

We all saw just how enthusiastic Akaza gets about fighting, in contrast to Giyuu, who directly says "I don't want to wield my blade to the best of my ability".

The "End Style - Chaotic Blue Metal Afterflow" vs Dead Calm

An attack that Giyuu's Dead Calm negates directly against - an all-over random attack, similar to Rui's "Cutting Thread Rotation" attack. The only problem was that Giyuu's sword was broken, and yet, he survived it. Really impressive.

Strong vs Weak

Strength is what they both yearn for, to protect the ones they love. Akaza loves fighting. He especially loves when his opponents can match him. Because of that, he asked the names of Kyoujurou and Giyuu to remember them, as a way of showing respect to the strong. While he easily dismisses people who he deems weak, he gives respect to those who he deems strong.

In Mugen Train Arc, Kyoujurou and Akaza debated on this. In Kyoujurou's heroic view, it's not just the strong that deserve respect. It is the duty of the strong members of society to protect the weak ones. It opposes Akaza's view, who thinks the weak should be eliminated.

Giyuu too demonstrated a thinking similar to Akaza, while less radical. The weak have no rights or options, their only fate is to get trampled by the strong. Obviously, Giyuu performes his duties in the same ideology as Kyoujurou, but he's hopeless regarding it. Kyoujurou and Giyuu are opposites like that - one is entirely positive and provides everyone else with hope, while Giyuu... does not do that.

It doesn't change his actions, however. Giyuu put his life on the line for Tanjirou and Nezuko, who are much weaker than him, who couldn't protect themselves against the corps wanting to kill Nezuko. His ideology is not to trample on the weak or make fun of it, it is merely a result of his own impostor's syndrome due to his past, manifesting as self-hatred. Giyuu hence projected all this onto his first encounter with Tanjirou, provoking him to fight for protection's sake. In the end, Tanjirou looks up to both Kyoujurou and Giyuu, as both protected others sacrificing themselves.

Akaza on the other hand, he's a demon, and has killed countless people. His hatred of the weak goes further than simply projection and self-hatred, he detests it. He's on the demon side because his weakness was not proved over and over because of demons, it was humans. Humans penalized him for stealing for medicine, humans poisoned the well to Keizo's dojo. Furthermore, he was recruited by Muzan at his most vulnerable.

I do like the portrayal of this better in Giyuu vs Akaza then Kyoujurou vs Akaza. That's not to say I have a little qualms about the writing of Giyuu vs Akaza. I think a little moment of talking and conversation would have benefitted, similar to Kyoujurou vs Akaza, or hell even Tanjirou in Infinity Castle Arc. I know it's obvious to all the Demon Slayer fans, but I find that outside of a little bubble, because of the whole "Demon Slayer isn't deep it's just cool animation fights" crowd, a lot of people don't understand why it was Giyuu who fought Akaza, unlike, say, Mitsuri, who's a woman and we'd see some interesting moments regarding Akaza not killing women. And yes, while that is interesting, Akaza and Giyuu are one of the greatest foils in Demon Slayer. I think people dismiss that greatly.

Protection

Giyuu's and Akaza's main theme: Protection. To summarize, Giyuu's impostor's syndrome comes from being unable to protect Tsutako and Sabito, while they were the ones who protected him instead. Akaza's backstory lays down the fact that he was unable to protect his dad, Keizo, or Koyuki. Over and over again, he's not been present during the deaths of them.

And that's the case with Giyuu too - he regrets not being there to save people. He puts the blame on Tanjirou for "showing his back" and not fighting. For Giyuu, his anger comes from himself and his own weaknesses. His motivation for becoming a demon slayer has to do with being able to protect his loved ones more than anything. Let's just say, he contrasts Sanemi - someone who has "Kill" written on the back of his haori to symbolize his anger against the existence of demons.

As for Akaza, we learn that the name "Hakuji" comes from "Komainu" - the statues in front of the door of shrines, a symbol of protection. His destiny is entirely to protect, and yet he failed, over and over.

This also gives us one of the greatest panels of Giyuu:

He's the Komainu here, he's standing as a guard for Tanjirou. I particularly like this translation, "you'll have to get through me first". Since Komainus are right outside the door or on walkways of shrines, you must get through them first to enter the shrine. That's what Giyuu is standing as in this moment.

He's also fulfilling his theme of protection. He failed previously to protect either Tsutako or Sabito, but won't fail once again for Tanjirou. He's putting his life on the line for Tanjirou. They both succeed in this fight - both Giyuu and Tanjirou succeed in protecting each other.

Can't paste a picture since I reached the picture limit unfortunately but, there's a specific moment where Giyuu says "I will protect Tanjirou, just as he would have done for me". It's a mutual thing for them, but Giyuu is still a senior, with responsibility to protect Tanjirou.

Contrasting that, Akaza kills himself. He declares it fair that Tanjirou defeated him while slashing his head off. In that way, he respects true strength, one that Tanjirou had attained since their last encounter. The visions of his loved ones - his dad, Keizo, and Koyuki, overpower even Muzan's control.

The fight pretty much ended with Giyuu not being a "useless komainu". Giyuu firmly stood on his role as the protector. It's Giyuu's main goal - protecting his loved ones. Though obviously he hadn't accepted himself as strong in general (that came about later against Muzan), it cemented Giyuu's main theme of protection (and yeahhh that's why he created the 11th form Dead Calm, so that no one would have to protect him, he'd defend himself, and he'd also defend others).

HADDD to make this post after seeing someone complain about how Giyuu's biggest character trait and writing is simply his depression lmfao. There's a lot more to him!!! His sad backstory is not the extent of his writing!!!! But also feel free to add anything if I've missed it, I'll enjoy learning more too🫶 I think you CAN pull some other parallels like snow/water or blue attack colour palettes or Akaza fighting the Flame and Water Pillars of this generation, but I didn't see enough of a reason to make separate points regarding them.

[ancha-aus]

I finished two more chapters of the Real Age editing!! We euh...

Don't talk about how one chapter went from 3600 to 4000... and one went from 3500 to... euh... 7300...

INSTEAD!

Have a sneakpeak!! Of the rewrite! :D

This is from the drabble: Parentalbond Dust.

*-----------------*

Dust watches as some dude bro guy walks through the forest, shouting about how he isn’t scared and to come get him. That he can defeat that creep with his tricks.

“… Why?”

Dust almost didn’t hear the question. Nightmare spoke quietly and just barely above a whisper. When Dust glances at him Nightmare is only just barely looking at him from the corner of his own wide sockets, eye lights big but shaking a tiny bit.

Anxiety? Fear? That are usually things that cause that kind of reaction from the magic that makes up their eyes. People aren’t joking when they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. For most monsters it is very much fact as magic affects their eyes and that comes from the soul.

Dust makes sure to break eye contact by turning towards the phone. He paused the movie as soon as he realised a question had been asked. He turns back slightly towards Nightmare and sees he is a bit more, not relaxed but calm. Mh. Doesn’t like the focus on him? Dust does remember that even as adult Nightmare much preferred to work from the shadows or the backlines.

Dust shrugs “Why the guy is screaming and making himself an obvious target? I don’t know exactly, it is either bad writing or a show that this guy is too confident in himself or just too stupid to realise what will happen to him.”

Nightmare frowns as he looks away “No. I mean… Why… this?”

Dust frowns. He isn’t exactly sure what about the situation he is asking about. He glances at his phone “I mean. I was bored. I figured a movie and some food would be nice…” as a distraction. As a way to pass time. To make sure that Nightmare has energy and food in him. It just… made sense.

Nightmare looks more frustrated for a moment. Glaring at his hands which formed into fists. Shoulders tense as he obviously searches for the right words.

Dust thinks it is very strange. He is so used to Nightmare being well spoken and always aware of what he feels and in turn wants. Nightmare now… just isn’t like this. He is struggling to put his thoughts into words. He is more expressive and the emotions shift easier from one to the other. There is less control, less refined skills.

He is acting like a child would.

…

He is a child… and struggling with the problems and limits that brings him.

Dust can almost feel the shift that follows that thought.

It happened in a second as Nightmare sighs and just looks down as he is mostly lax “Okay.”.

Dust frowns. That is wrong. That isn’t Nightmare accepting something. No, that is the sound of someone who resigns himself to something. Nightmare doesn’t do that. Nightmare keeps asking, Nightmare keeps looking. He wants to know everything and more importantly understand everything. After all of them told their stories he didn’t just accept those as fact. He would keep asking. Asking about details about their thoughts. Everything.

Dust frowns as he remembers the anxiety of before. If he keeps Nightmare’s past in his mind it makes sense. It isn’t like he would be used to having adults listen to him, and when they did Nightmare was an adult. Maybe he needs to prod himself instead?

Dust is so bad at this. Killer should have stayed here, he is much better at this whole conversation thing. Still Dust mutters his question “No. What why?” is that enough? Does that explain what he wants?

Nightmare tugs on his own phalanges. Tugging on the small bones and Dust can hear a soft creaking sound coming from it. Dust is already reaching towards those hands and Nightmare flinches at it.

Neither of them move as Nightmare looks much more panicked as his breathing picked up.

He is… terrified… He is actually terrified.

How… how does he fix this?

A loud laughter “Fix this?! You can’t fix this! Nothing you can do can fix this! These are the consequences of your actions dear brother. You forced a traumatised child to experience more trauma, more abandonment and then took his choices from him. Forcing him to remain by those who clearly don’t care. There is no fixing this. And you deserve to be aware of this.”

No. No he… He can… fix this? Maybe Horror can? Horror is a good brother. Horror could explain and reassure him… Killer knows Nightmare better than any of them. Killer could maybe say something to connect with him. Or Cross!! Cross is trustworthy and a true protector. Maybe Cross can make him feel save.

Dust… Dust can’t do that. Any of it.

Nightmare is still shaking as he stares at him. Frozen. He always froze when he encountered something he didn’t know the answer to. They thought it was to think… Was it to think?

Dust realises he still has his hand out. With some difficulty he slowly pulls it back. Nightmare watches the hand silently. Nothing moves aside from his eye lights, which are only looking at the hand. Dust manages to bring his hand back to the phone and holds unto it, afterwards he just waits.

*----------*

It was a large sneak peak!! :D

[terrorbirb]

I think permanent corrective actions and root cause analysis exist solely to cause people with OCD and anxiety disorders to ruin their brains.

[soracities]

if we should protect children because they are vunerable, this means you would protect cruel children who bullies people who different than them then. the children who responsible to trauma for someone else's entire years

You're assuming that "protecting" children is the same as absolving them of responsibility and that's not what I said. All children are vulnerable, because all children are children; they don't come out of the womb with a perfectly working moral compass anymore than they come out of it waiting to hurt people--they're vulnerable because their understanding of the world is entirely at the mercy of what we, as adults, consistently tell them and show them. Children behaving cruelly aren't exempt from that--they learn that cruelty from somewhere, or someone. Your job, as the adult, is to make sure they understand that it's unacceptable so it will not happen again--but your job is also to ask why someone that young is behaving this way to begin with, so you can ensure they become better.

"Protecting" kids is not ignoring when they hurt or torment others, it's not refusing to teach them consequences or right from wrong, it's not "zero tolerance" policies in schools that treat a child being bullied and the child bullying them as equal instigators, and it's certainly not protecting them from recognizing, and atoning for, the pain they have caused someone else. You don't have to make peace with the now-adults who hurt you when you both were kids, but you cannot let the horrors of your own childhood impact how you treat or respond to the children living theirs around you right now, either.

You don't protect kids so they can get a free pass for bullying or tormenting another child. You protect them because kids are impulsive, emotionally reactive, and profoundly social (which means deeply impressionable) human beings who are still learning & processing insane amounts of information every day about what it means to be alive, to be alive as yourself, to be alive as yourself with other people. Protecting them is realising that you can't isolate the responsibility of a 10 year old from the bigger responsibility of the literal grown adults around them, adults who are in charge of teaching them about the world and how to behave in it. Whether you have children of your own in the future or not is completely irrelevant to this; we all become those adults eventually--no matter what happened to us as kids.

[gildedmuse]

So, I've heard a lot of negative press about the movie Wasih, which, hey cool. I wasn't keen on watching but it came up and why not.

Here is my issue. I was lead it wasn't good for the following reasons:

Wish Girl: Shouldn't we grant every wish ever no matter what!?

Evil Dude: Um, that's insane. Do you know how many wishes are straight up murder?

So I was kind of surprised when it ACTUALLY went much more like:

Wish Girl: So this is where you keep every wishes or every single one of our citizens over the age of 18, huh?

Evil Dude: Yeah, preeeetty much. Oh but, careful there. Haha, you see, because some of them suck so we can't risk those getting out....

Wish Girl: Getting out? You mean you won't grant them ever?

Evil Dude: GRANT them? Are you crazy? Look at this one! This loser wants to INSPIRE people with MUSIC! IMAGINE the carnage of I granted that sort of insanity!

Wish Girl: I'm sorry are none of these like, "I really want to murder my husband?" How is that the evilest example you could manage?

Evil Dude: Inspiring music? Do you WANT to live in communist China!?

Wish Girl: I don't know about this Communism or China.... but.... like.... when people give you their wishes, they're trusting you.

Evil Dude: And I'm doing my part by not just destroying them on sight.

Wish Girl: You don't understand! They're TRUSTING you, not just with their dreams but with who they ARE. When you remove their wishes, you're removing PART of who they are! People, they forget their dreams. Your dreams, your goals, a huge part of who you are! I'm not asking you to grant every wish.... I just don't think people should lose a piece of themselves, not even knowing it's gone.

Wish Girl: If you don't want to use your magic that's fine. Why not let them at least strive to bring their dreams to reality the old fashion way?

Evil Dude: Well yeah but you know.... hypothetical badness!

Wish Girl: ..... Give them back.

Evil Dude: I'm sorry, what?

Wish Girl: Just give them back. Like, okay, you don't want to make this guy a rockstar but right now he doesn't even remember he likes music! Give! It! Back!

I mean, how is that evil? It's less a "grant every dream always!" More a "let people think and dream what they want". Her initials reaction isn't a free dream for everyone!!!" It's "people should know their own goals, they shouldn't be stolen away."

Why ya'll trying to pretend the dude who is taking people's hopes/dreams/personalities and choosing which ones get to happen and which are ERASED FROM THE MIND OF THE INDIVIDUAL FOREVER is the good guy?

Is media literacy just a joke?

[shittygothbitch]

Omg I haven't bitched about the shitty first date here yet. I only ever bitch in the tags so check em

[savage-rhi]

🫂

[knaveofmogadore]

You ever have a customer with a legitimate problem but they're such an asshole that they extinguish the embers of empathy within you with their insolence?

[katyspersonal]

Idk why you get hate when your blog is one of the most honest i have come across and your lore posts are so meta that i don’t even think most bb youtubers have discovered what you have lol. Y’all just got jealous haters.

It is far not the first time I've heard explanation that people are just jealous, really :') 👍 Like... That Alfred-chan (aka Clod Frollo) simply hated me and was jealous and latched onto the first chance to justify the unending wish to remove me is painfully apparent at this rate. Inventing up bigotry, harm and opinions that were never there to get the chance to declare someone you hate a "witch" is the oldest trick in the book! If you convince people the person is bad and harmful, you are automatically justified to treat them however you want.

It might be my lore, because they were really mad at the fact that I write essays on multiple occasions? Like, they try to paint it as me "having no life" or "being mad", but. dude. dude you are projecting. If the only way you could write essay on a topic you care about is abandoning all your chores and needs and/or getting mad at someone, then I have bad news for your intellect? :/ This is a very common attitude from people that cannot say anything interesting on their own and just post the same two-sentence brainlet takes about how much male characters/fans suck or how their [LGBT headcanon] is the only true interpretation and everyone who disagrees can't analyse media. 🤔 So how can they feel better about not having as many interesting headcanons or good theories? They've picked the low-effort way - to attempt destroying the value of "lore essays" by painting them as a bad thing! I will be real tho - they've gotten like, two asks about their headcanons in a lifetime (both about the same character, ironically) and shown that they CAN post something good when they want to, so eventually it is the matter of choosing low-effort way. Destroying is easier than creating!

It could also be freedom, and honesty, like you said. Some people's only trump card is being """good"""! Some people think if they put 'transphobes DNI' in their bio and regularly seek to call out bigotry that isn't here they are automatically a good person who is now allowed to stalk, harass, be toxic in general and push even genuinely innocent people under the bus. But I do not have to compensate for lack of personality and latch onto any ideology or activism - I am already a pretty awesome and interesting individual on my own. 😎 Not to mention how they have to put on the hard show of fighting "for the common good" to keep their following engaged, meanwhile I still have very genuine and deep support even despite my honest fuck-ups (forget the fabricated accusations!). I don't have any other theory than them knowing (maybe subconsciously) that by surrounding themselves by witch-hunters ideological soldiers, they've trapped themselves in the situation where if THEY fuck up - their "fans" will turn on them, if not cancel them. Building following based on ideology instead of shared interest (or one's own unique radiant personality, like mine 😎) is the worst thing you can do to yourself. Because... guess what? Correct, because that sort of people eats their own.

________________________

I'd appreciate no more personal asks like this for some time, because I genuinely start to feel guilty talking about myself so much (in my personal blog.... hmmm logical...). But again, kids, remember - you must make your worth with cool shit like talent, great personality traits, positively encouraging others, etc and not in ideology and making up witches you could "defeat". That person has the capacity by having some nice ideas, being able to craft stuff, drawing. They could easily win all the supporters they've lost back and outgrow me by LARGE merit if they apologised, admitted mistakes and committed to cultivating positive emotions, discussions and content. It is basically so easy and it is so much cringe to take so many Ls because of jealousy and obsession?

[super-psycho-lov3]

it doesnt even matter it doesnt even matter it doesnt ever matter it doesnt even

[todayisafridaynight]

HAVE BEEN ROTATING Y7 ARAKAWA IN RGGO ARAKAWA'S DRIP IN MY MIND FOR AEONS YOU SEE THE VISION....................

Listen. I think. I think it would work. I think we could've still won. The physics probably would've been a pain, but if I think about it as an echo of the red iin his costuming in the play at the start, and link it back to how the plot of the play comes to represent part of his life, it would [unintelligible]

But no for real, the sliver you can see of the snakeskin on Jo and the fact it's the lightest thing you can see on his whole outfit feels purposeful. It's still incredibly funny to me that whole thing was treated as a twist at all. But.

And the progression on account of the timeskip is sick too from a symbolic perspective. It's things like the 2019 tie having the exact same pattern as in 2000, but it's also now the only real color in his entire ensemble, the purple from his shirt relegated to the tie and the pink completely gone. Hanging on to the past (although I guess this is more RGGJo's thing), forcing his "self" into a smaller and smaller space, that kind of thing. If we go with Sololiquy for a moment, maybe there's also something there about things being livelier when Ichi was around, for better or worse.

All the leather is ostensibly much more luxurious, befitting of his rise in status, but it's also burying him further in these additional layers of security. The gloves DO pull it together, and they also leave him basically completely covered-up from head to toe, which I can't help find fascinating.

So, you know, he looks sick with the gloves on, but there's also a different Flavor when recognizing he had them on the first battle when he was hiding so much from Ichi, but in the second battle, where he hopes to come clean, he's bare-handed ("Ichi-vision" notwithstanding).

And I think it's also worth recognizing that the gloves would've offered some protection when he went to grab the blade, but he grabs it anyway in his bare hand. With the amount of force you apply when you swing a blade and it actually connects, that'd hurt him just as bad, but it shows he's past the point of caring about what happens to him even before he says so. (I still think we should've probably seen his hand cut and bleeding when out of Ichi-vision, but y'know.)

Much to think about...

NO I SEE YOUR VISION I SEE WHERE YOU'RE GOING they could've done that.... true the physics would've been a pain but I think we can trade some of the effort that went into The Bread and put it towards the scarf and coat.....

The evolution of Jo's outfit in conjunction with the surrounding environment and circumstances really is mad interesting, and as someone who really enjoys 'storytelling' (idk if that's the exact word rn but i aint ever been good with words in the first place) through character design/wardrobe. Any note I coulda said you've already said for me, yet I still wish I had some more words to express how much I love the changes in his outfit and how it reflects himself and the story at that particular point 😷

[thedreadvampy]

btw if I'm ignoring anyone's messages about planning things it's only because I'm insane about work right now I woke up 20 times this morning plotting a spreadsheet in my brain and had to keep going SHUT UP BRAIN IT'S FUCKING SUNDAY I'M GOING BACK TO SLEEP

I'm so goddamn anxious about this shit right now. I've never done hiring before and somehow I've got backed into a corner where I have to do 4 parallel sets of recruitment decision making within 3 weeks. and I am kicking myself because I'm a manager now I should have had the courage to be a bit of a dick and say 'look I know it's not ideal but one of these will need to wait a few months' because when am I going to do ANYTHING ELSE????

[andromeda-nova-writing]

.

[sharkface]

I do not think people are understanding that for people in the Carolinas there was no naive and stupid choice to stay in the hurricane instead of evacuating, the Carolinas are regularly hit by hurricanes after they've tanked in severity, no one communicated to them that it was going to get this bad. This isn't "rich people from florida" beach house antics, these are overwhelmingly rural and poor areas full of people with no flood infrastructure, no warning, and nowhere to go. It is impossible to truly toll the death this has caused, hundreds of people are missing, emergency services are having to leave corpses behind because there are so many more living people to deal with. And this is the people who had homes, who had the physical ability to try to escape! Nobody told them this would happen. This is what it looks like to have no emergency weather preparedness, no warning, in terrain that will trap you where you are. This is the mountains we're talking about- All water flows straight into the river valleys where most people live, and seeking higher ground risks you mudslides and rock slides, the ground will fall out from underneath you. This is going to keep happening, and nobody is going to care until it's their problem- And then they're gonna ask why no one is helping.

A lot of places to donate are evangelical groups that will keep more of your money than distribute aid (all while using the disaster to recruit), if you are looking into an org to donate to PLEASE AVOID THESE, THEY ARE NOT GOING TO BE HELPFUL IN A DISASTER SCENARIO, ANY OTHER CHARITY IS PREFERABLE, they're rarely helpful to their community under normal circumstances. Seek out individual people in need to send aid directly if you can, I'm positive a lot of gofundmes will be popping up in the near future as cities begin to regain power, otherwise the Red Cross is always taking donations and has historically provided the most relief for natural disaster survivors, you can also donate to United Way of Asheville and Buncombe County, an org run by officials in Asheville, which is one of the most immediately endangered areas of western NC and greatly in need of drinkable water.