#Its a bit unusual to what i usually draw

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[nana-gumi]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR ANGST SM, WELL WRITTEN ISTG!! as one of my favorite angst writer, i had this idea in my mind for a long time. imagine you found out that you're 12 weeks pregnant and you were too excited to surprise satoru about it but when he came home, he broke the news that he got his ex pregnant. he was cheating and the surprise slipped out of your mind and you got angry at him and led into an argument... YOU CAN CONTINUE IF YOU WANT. I REALLY WANT TO SEE HOW OR WHAT ENDING YOU'LL WRITE. and also, make it a very very angst 😋

anyway, don't be a stranger g.satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, infidelity, pregnancy, illness, mentions of death, cremation, as usual not proofread hehe

a/n: YOU ASKED FOR THIS OKAY?? anyways, happy reading :p

next

it was positive.

the moment you saw two red lines from the pregnancy test you bought, you didn't know what to feel at first, you were in disbelief so you tried it for the second, and third time, but the results did not change at all so you took this as a cue to visit a doctor, and there was no doubt in it, it was revealed that you were 12 weeks pregnant.

how should you tell your husband? satoru was barely home from his work after all. you knew how hard it is to be a new company's head so you understand him.

and so you dialed satoru's number as you nervously bit your bottom lip. he answered at the fifth ring.

"hello?"

"satoru–" you paused, and a small smile made its way on your lips. "can you come home, tonight? are you busy?"

"uh, not really." he sounded unsure but you didn't even noticed it on how excited you were.

"can you come home tonight, please?" you repeated.

"alright." he said as you heard him sigh from the other line "i– wanted to tell you something." he said and satoru's tone was unrecognizable, it was like his voice was slightly shaking.

"okay?" you worriedly said. "see you later, satoru. i love youuu."

"mhm, i love you too."

-

if someone would see you right now, they would, in an instant, notice that you were celebrating something special. you sure were prepared for satoru's return, you even wore nice dress and a cardigan as you await for his arrival.

and here he comes.

satoru enters the door and saw you approaching him.

"welcome home." you said as you leaned your face his chest followed by a kiss on his cheek. it was unusual on how he didn't return your advances as he walked past you.

his gloomy approach was affecting you as you placed a concerning hand on his shoulder, the surprise you prepared for him suddenly slipping out of your mind.

"what's wrong, honey?" you asked as you felt him tense up.

"you know i love you, right?" he said, and you thought you've read those words from a book before. you just hoped that the words he would say next wouldn't hurt you as much as the words on the book did.

you hummed in response as satoru turned to face you.

"i'm really sorry, my love. please forgive me."

"satoru, what's wrong? why are you– i'm scared." you said as satoru face palmed, his own body giving up as he was forced to sit down on the couch as he opened his mouth to speak and..

what was he saying? you sure you've heard it but, it sounds muffled when it entered your ears.

"i'm so sorry." he said as he stood up, embracing you as tight as he could so you wouldn't have a chance to step away from him.

"how long?" you muttered and satoru wasn't familiar with the tone of your voice. he didn't respond and it made your blood boil as you pushed him. "i asked how long!" you yelled.

"4 months."

"4 months?! 4 fucking months and you're just informing me about it right now? is that why you're not always home?!" you were screaming at this point and satoru tried to reach for your hand but you were quick to draw back.

"i already cut off ties with her! please believe me."

"satoru, you got someone pregnant! do you want the child to grow up without a father?" you exclaimed as you released a heavy sigh.

"it was just a mistake, we were drunk." satoru said as he embraced you.

-

"are you sure you'd let me attend the reunion?"

"yup, why? don't you want to?" you said as you fixed his tie.

"my ex is going to be there, though." he said and out of all the reactions he could get from you, he didn't expect you to smile at him as you pinch his nose.

"i trust you, satoru. i already did the moment we exchanged vows."

-

satoru was sure that the trust you had for him was already gone by now.

"take responsibility, satoru." you said as you push him by his chest.

"i love you so so so much, (name). please, i can't live without you."

"satoru, you can't just have me around while raising a child with another woman! what would people say?"

"like i told you, i already cut off ties with her."

"i know how it feels to grow up without a father, satoru." you mumbled as you look down on the ground. "it'll be fine. i'll manage, somehow."

"no–"

"why are you being stubborn!"

"you're being selfish!" he exclaimed as you gasp in surprise. selfish? you? how could he say that.

"you'll thank me someday, satoru." you mumbled.

"(name), please.."

"satoru. understand the situation." you weren't screaming anymore and.. why was he crying?

satoru took your hand on his as he placed it on his cheek and leaned on it, his tears stopping on your fingers and, you couldn't help but tear up as well.

"it'll be fine." you mumbled, voice breaking as you closed your eyes.

"i swear with all of my heart, that i love love love you. i'm sorry, forgive me. i didn't have enough courage to tell you sooner, because i was scared that it'll end up, like how it is now."

"it'll eventually come, you can't hide it from me forever, y'know." the storm was starting to calm as both of you spoke with hushed tones. "now go."

"let's talk about this one more time, please?" he mumbled as you slowly removed his hand on yours.

"then tell me, 'toru. what's there left for us to talk about?" you asked and satoru was, unfortunately quiet. "there's nothing, right?"

"love, please. i'm so sorry."

"what's done is done, satoru. we couldn't possibly go back in time and fix everything, right?"

"please." he whispered, hoping for something that he, himself doesn't even know what.

"i won't hate you for this, satoru. it's just– i hope you told me sooner."

"i'm so sorry. i'm grateful to have you as my wife, i'm sorry if i couldn't treat you like how you deserve it."

he really didn't deserve you. you were so understanding that satoru couldn't even look at you in the eyes.

"i'll say it as many times as i could. i love you. i didn't regret marrying you." he said as he cupped your tear stained cheeks and leaned his forehead on yours. "i don't really deserve you." satoru leaned in, kissing you and kissed back because both of you knew that, it was for the last time.

satoru left your apartment after settling things out. you fell on the couch as you felt something on the pocket of your cardigan.

"fuck." you muttered as you laughed bitterly, clutching the results in your hand, placing it close to your chest. you forgot the surprise and now that satoru have made up his mind, you knew there was no point on telling him anymore. grow up without a father, huh? now you're the one to talk.

a week has passed.

"hey." he acknowledged as he sat beside you inside the court.

"hey." you responded as you fiddle with your fingers. a gesture satoru noticed when you're uncomfortable. were you uncomfortable around him?

"how have you been?"

"i don't know." you said as satoru went silent.

"are you okay? let's stop this divorce if you–?"

"no, i just don't feel well."

"you can still change minds, y'know." satoru mumbled, anxiously tapping his feet on the floor.

should you tell him? it was a chance, the only chance left before you and satoru have to separate ways. but as you recalled it, he mentioned that his supposed to be ex was 4 months pregnant and you were just on you were just on 12 weeks, equivalent to more or less than 2 months. it was her advantage.

"it'll be fine." you said as you sighed.

"you always say that."

-

"so, this is it?" you said as you stand across each other and satoru looked to his side and he was caught off guard when he felt you hold his hand, he took note of your cold hands.

you placed the wedding ring on his palms as you forced to close it.

"no." he said as he placed it back on you after removing his own ring. "i want you to keep it. for us." he said.

"okay." you said, turning around as you placed his ring and yours inside your bag.

"(name)." he called as you looked back. "i'm sorry i broke my promise, to have a happy family with you." he said and you wanted to tear up but you reminded yourself that it's not the right time to as you smiled at him.

"find me in another life then we can have a happy family there." you joked as both of you laughed.

is it normal to be like this with each other as if satoru hadn't just got his ex pregnant? as if both of you just haven't came out of the court after signing the divorce papers?

"i'll come and visit when i can." he said, and you hoped he would keep his words this time.

"okay."

"for the last time. i love you." you do too, but this time, you didn't say it back anymore.

"don't you think sanyu is a good name for our child?" satoru said as you look up at him.

"do you want to have one?"

"i'd love to have a happy family with you."

"is that so? but why sanyu?"

"sanyu means happiness. it means we are happy that we have him." he said as you chuckled in response.

"and how are you so sure that it would be a boy?"

"instincts."

-

his instincts was right. you had a son with him and you named him sanyu.

unfortunately, when sanyu turned a year of age, it was found that he had a very weak heart. there wasn't a day where you and your son doesn't visit a hospital. he was just a kid but they already wanted to take him away from you.

"mama." sanyu called. there were a lot of tubes that was connecting his body and it hurts to see your son suffer like this. you always hoped that it was you suffering instead of sanyu.

"yes?" you responded as you sat on the nearby chair.

"papa? where?" he curiously asked and your heart couldn't hurt more. you were lying to your child all this time, that his father was not around because of his job. you'll have to explain it to him when he grows up though.

you held sanyu's hand on yours as you softly caress it.

"papa's not here. he's very very busy!" you said as sanyu frowned. "don't worry, papa will see you soon, okay?"

"okay. love love mama, papa."

-

you bit your bottom lip as you stared at your contacts. your eyes switching from the phone to the surroundings as you slowly became anxious.

his contact was still in your emergency. you took a deep breath but in the end, you just couldn't dial his number, proceeding to call the person below his contact as you place the speaker close to your ear.

"hello?" you said as you heard a small gasp from the other side of the phone.

"hey, how are you? we haven't seen you since."

"i'm doing fine, thank you for asking, geto."

"what's the matter? why'd you call all of the sudden?"

"satoru." you said as you paused, gathering some courage left in you. "um, how is he?"

"well– he's doing good."

"he is, huh?" you mumbled. "can i ask you a favor, please?"

"of course. is it about satoru?"

"kind of?"

"alright, but satoru's a very busy man now, that's why it's gonna be hard to contact him these days."

oh.

"don't worry, it's not about that. can you– can you come here at the hospital? i'll send you the address and explain it to you later."

-

suguru arrived earlier than you expected it to.

"i'm sorry for calling out of the blue." you said as you approached him on the front desk.

"it's fine." suguru said as he shrugged. "why here at the hospital? are you sick?"

"i'm not. come, follow me." you said and suguru silently obliged as you finally stopped at a certain door. suguru noticed your discomfort as you slowly opened the door.

"mama!"

"hi baby. i brought someone." you said as you approached your son.

"what?" suguru mumbled in disbelief and he was left frozen on the door, his eyes widening. it was like a child version of satoru was infront of him.

"papa?" sanyu asked as he tilted his head to the side.

"i'm sorry, sanyu. i can only bring papa's friend." you said, your heart aching as your son frowned.

"sanyu?" suguru asked as he approached the two of you.

"i'm sanyu!" your son exclaimed and once again, suguru could only sigh in disbelief.

-

"how old is sanyu?" suguru asked when both of you left the room to grab a drink outside.

"he's 4 years old."

"does satoru know?"

"no."

"then tell him." easier said than done.

"you know i can't." you mumbled. "the favor–" you said as you faced suguru. "can you tell sanyu about his father? i just couldn't.." you mumbled as you played the can of the drink with your thumb.

"alright." suguru said and you smiled at him in return.

"thank you so much. it's just.. the doctors said he doesn't have enough time to–" you paused as you wiped your tears with your sleeves. "sorry for asking you this, geto. you are the closest to satoru, that's why."

"i understand, don't worry about it too much."

"i just couldn't tell satoru. i want sanyu to know what he wants to know. i couldn't tell him because i'm scared that i'll tear up once i mention his father to him. they said sanyu's running out of time.. i don't know– i'll just have to accept it nonetheless." suguru looked at you in pity as he embraced you.

"don't think about it, okay? sanyu will live and so satoru will know about it. i'll help you with it, 'kay?"

"okay, thank you.."

-

"you look like your papa."

"really?!" sanyu exclaimed happily as suguru hummed in response. "mama said papa is busy.."

"it's true, that's why i am here to tell you about your papa." sanyu looked at suguru hesitantly as he proceeded to ask a question.

"hmm.. is my papa good?" sanyu asked as suguru looked at you.

"he is. and he loves your mama so much."

"then why is he always busy?"

"sanyu." you called him, indicating to not ask those type of questions as he frowned.

and so sanyu asked a lot of things about his papa like what's his favorite color, favorite food, what he hates the most and many more, and you were thankful that suguru was there to answer it all when you couldn't.

-

"thank you, geto. i somehow feel at ease now."

"why don't you tell satoru about this?" suguru said as you started to zone out. should you? or should you not?

part of you believes that satoru has the right to know but part of you doubts it. satoru have a family now, a family without you. how would people think if they found out the owner of the famous company has a son from another woman?

you were once married to satoru, it was a mistake to let him take responsibility of his ex' pregnancy but, she was already at her 4 months of pregnancy while you're on your 12 weeks, she's clearly at the advantage.

"i'll try." you said as you embraced yourself for warmth.

"he's free around this time every thursdays." suguru said and you only nodded at his words.

satoru was on his way to his office and he thought he caught a glimpse of you and, he wasn't wrong, it was really you.

"(name)?" you were startled at the voice as you placed your phone behind you.

"gojo–"

"i hate it when you call me that. call me satoru." he said, frowning at you as you laughed nervously. "you look tired. what's–"

get straight to the point.

"are you busy?" you asked, cutting him off.

"well.." he placed his palm on his nape as he looked behind your shoulders.

"dad!" a voice called as a kid you haven't saw in your life appeared beside him. "what's taking you so long? mom's waiting."

"i'm sorry (name)."

"no, it's fine." you said, smiling at him and satoru knew better than anyone that your smile was forced.

"who's she, dad?" the kid asked. this must be satoru's child.

"an old friend, sanyu." satoru said as he looked at you and he wonders what made you look surprised. "go ahead first, i'll follow after you." he said as his son started to walk away.

"sanyu, huh?" you said as you looked behind his son's retreating figure.

"yeah. sorry about that." satoru said.

"why?"

"i don't know. but it was supposed to be our son's name."

"that's all in the past now." you didn't mean to sound harsh but something just hurts.

"right."

"i'll take my leave then." you said, every step you take makes your heart ache as an apology for you son slipped out of your mind.

"(name)." he called once again as you stopped in your tracks but you didn't face him.

"you were right when you said i'll thank you someday." he mumbled and you knew very well that he was smiling as you gulped the lump in your throat. "so thank you. i am the happiest father, ever. even if–" he paused and you didn't respond. it was like he was rubbing a salt in your wound as you heard him sigh. "see you then." he said as you felt his hand on your shoulder for a moment before his footsteps disappeared, and then you took your leave after, going back to your son, who was waiting for your arrival.

but, why was this happening to you? of all people?

"hold onto mama's hand, mhm?"

"mama, sorry."

"mama's sorry too, i promised that you'll see papa but–" sanyu shake his head, something like disagreeing to your apologies.

"it's okay, mama." sanyu mumbled, the sound of the monitor beeping slowing down as you hold onto his hand tight. this happened before already, he will get back to normal soon, you were sure.

"mama loves sanyu, papa too. always remember that, okay?"

-

"hey (name)!" suguru called from the distance as he approached you. "what are you doing outside? oh by the way, i was wondering if i can bring shoko too? she would be delighted to see a carbon copy of satoru." suguru chuckled but he noticed that you were quiet, your hand was between your thighs as you stare at the ground.

the door opening caught your attention as the doctor came out after what it seemed like a year as he slowly shake his head left to right.

"i'm sorry ms. (name) but your son didn't make it."

"but you said he'll be fine! i am paying enough why couldn't you–!"

"i'm very sorry. we already did what we can." you were about to start an argument when you felt a hand on your shoulders and the doctor bowed at you before leaving.

and it all came crashing down as your body lost its strength, unintentionally leaning on someone, which was suguru.

"what am i supposed to do now?" you asked, the emotions you've been keeping all this time was starting to go out, all at once. "sanyu's all i have." you didn't even care if people watch as they walk pass by. "what should i do now, satoru?" you mumbled, voice breaking as you call the name of the person that wasn't even around.

-

"my condolences, (name)." suguru had managed to calm you down as he handed you a bottled water and sat beside you.

"i've decided to cremate sanyu. it hurts but it'll be for the best so.. so i could keep him near me." you said.

"i'll support your decision but i think you should tell satoru about it."

"no." you said, your tone was strict but it was quick to dissipate as you clutched the bottle in your hand. "i went to his workplace yesterday."

"what happened?" suguru asked.

"his son's name is sanyu too. i'm guessing you know it?" you asked as his breath hitched silenty.

"yeah." he mumbled.

"well, it was the name he wanted when we were still planning." you mumbled as you smiled at the memory. "geto, i trust you not to tell anyone about this. it's just you and me who know this, okay?"

"i'm sorry but–" suguru paused. "i told shoko about it." you were surprised at first as you sighed at him.

"it's fine. i trust shoko too."

"yeah, sorry about that but– i was really hoping that you tell satoru about it because–"

"there's no need. thank you for telling my child everything he wanted to know, geto. i owe you."

"listen–"

"geto, as much as i am thankful for you, please understand that i don't want to hear things regarding satoru anymore." you said as suguru nods in response, feeling bad for pushing you when your still mourning for your lost and now that you had lost your only strength to continue living, what should you do now?

[bnuuygrils]

47news interview with Tamifull

Earlier this month Tamifull, the author of Tsukiatte agetemo ii kana? AKA How Do We Relationship?, did an interview with 47news. I've translated the full text below:

Out of the innumerable manga published every year, there are always a few titles that one simply can't afford to miss. Tamifull-sensei's How Do We Relationship? (Shogakukan) is one of these. It's a story of young love and heartbreak, centering on college students Inuzuka Miwa and Sawatari Saeko. Though fiction, it has a powerful sense of reality that leaves one feeling as if the real Miwa and Saeko might just be out there somewhere right now. If Agasawa Tea's Ramparts of Ice (Shueisha) is the pinnacle of high school romance, then How Do We Relationship? is the pinnacle of college romance. With the help of supervising editor Watanabe Saori-san, we were able to secure an interview with Tamifull-sensei to discuss the story--now on its 12th volume, and at the height of its climax.

The story so far:

Soon after starting college, mild-mannered beauty Inuzuka Miwa joins the light music club and finds herself the center of attention from the boys at the welcoming party. Miwa, who "only likes girls", is rescued from the situation by the energetic Saeko. Saeko, who "prefers women (to men)", buoyed by liquid courage, asks Miwa out on the spot and the two begin dating. But the two are clumsy and inexperienced with love, and fail to be fully honest with each other. By the end of the year, their romance has ended in disaster. After maintaining a sex-only relationship for some time they return to being friends and even move on to new partners... Finally, as their respective relationships have both ended, the two look at each other anew, not as lovers, but as exes, and as absolute allies.

47: How Do We Relationship? has a very unusual structure. Shoujo manga tend to portray a dramatic path to the start of the relationship, but Miwa and Saeko begin dating at the very start of volume 1 and break up in volume 4. As we're now on volume 12, they've actually been exes longer than they were together.

Tamifull: Well, it has stretched a little longer than I expected (laughs), but the story is proceeding as planned from the start. I think rather than starting decisively with some sort of "All right, I'm falling in love now!" moment, real love tends to build up out of small things over time. I didn't want the relationships in How Do We Relationship? to start in this exaggerated, romance story kind of way.

47: And that helps with its sense of reality.

Tamifull: I don't believe dating and breaking up are things that we need to think about in such dramatic terms. It's easy to feel like every relationship has to be perfect, or that you need to have some sort of fated encounter, or that breaking up is a bad thing, something hopeless. Why shouldn't there be manga that throws away those stereotypes? Life is so much longer than a single relationship. It keeps going after you start dating someone, or break up with them. I think that's a message that I've consistently tried to tell with this manga.

47: Can you tell us how it got to be serialized?

Tamifull: It started out as a oneshot I did for Comitia (a doujin festival and marketplace in Tokyo) in 2017. Up until then, I had mainly been drawing yuri--manga about relationships between girls. And I wanted to tell a little bit of a different story at that event. Doujinshi are generally about 20 pages, so usually you introduce the main couple, have them confess, and wrap it up right around there. So I thought, what if they're already in a relationship and we watch them break up? I was basically thinking, "why not draw what I want to read!?"

Watanabe: Ashima Yuki-san, one of the first freelance editors, reached out to Tamifull-san then.

47: At the time, yuri was considered a pretty small market. It felt like unless you got into one of the specialized publications you'd have a very hard time, right?

Tamifull: That's true. There are a lot more varied works coming out now. At the time most of these stories were actually aimed at men, so the relationships would stay platonic, or at most they might kiss. I knew stories like that were easier to market and less likely to ruffle feathers, but I found myself thinking, "If we all settle for that, we'll never get to see what happens next! If no one else is drawing it, why shouldn't I?"

47: What did Ashima-san say to you?

Tamifull: She told me, "I've been wanting to read a story where the characters and relationship feel free like this". I do remember thinking it might be more marketable without the eroticism when I was developing it for serialization (laughs). But I ended up just being like, well, let's see what happens!

47: "Realistic" LGBTQ romance stories tend to end up falling into a handful of patterns. Whether it's manga or movies, you see a lot of stories that feel like "the tragedy of same-sex love", or that seem intended to make you feel sorry for the characters. Like the audience is meant to walk away thinking, "How thought-provoking! I really learned something". But How Do We Relationship? is pretty different, isn't it?

Tamifull: Rather than being "yuri" or being viewed as an "LGBTQ story", I want people to get into the story just because they see it and go "Hey, there's girls dating in here!". Sexual minorities aren't here to be instructional materials for anyone. LGBTQ people live in the same world as everyone else. I want the characters to seem like people you might meet anywhere, and to have relationships you might see anywhere. I want the fact that the relationship isn't heterosexual to just be a detail. That's why Watanabe-san and I decided not to advertise How Do We Relationship? specifically as a yuri manga.

47: Achieving that sense of reality must take a lot of care. I imagine you have to be careful to avoid the set phrases and compositions that readers see all the time in romance manga.

Tamifull: That's true. For example, in the scene where Saeko opens up to Mikkun, their male friend, about her dating Miwa, she asks him if he finds the two of them dating "gross, or wrong, or unnatural", and Mikkun, while looking away, asks in return, "What? Do I have to feel that way about you?". The orthodox move would be to have the handsome guy character looking straight out of the page, smoothly delivering some cool line. But in real life we don't have convenient handsome guys just lying around, and you're not usually looking people straight in the eye. It's not that staged. I think the casual nature of the lines, and the casual nature of the situation, actually make it all the more resonant. I want to keep that natural feeling to the story, and I go out of my way to avoid making it feel "romantic". I think my ideal is for it to feel like a movie.

47: A movie?

Tamifull: That's right. I think one of the strengths of film is the ability to show the drama of everyday life. I always include backgrounds in my panels to try to get closer to that feeling. For instance, in a scene in volume 12, Saeko is on a boat at night looking out over the water with her girlfriend, Yuria. They're talking about breaking up. It's a very romantic setting, but the painful nature of their conversation blots out everything except for the blackness of the water. I want readers to feel like they're there experiencing it alongside the characters.

47: I see. The city you see at night while breaking up with someone certainly does feel different...

Watanabe: And Tamifull-sensei's art has really helped deliver that sense of reality to readers. There are no wasted panels: from the camera placement to how the viewer's eye is led, even the placement of the dialogue, everything serves to guide the reader to what she's showing. Due to my job I read a lot of manga, but there are very few manga artists as skilled as her.

47: Personally, as a reader, it's that sense of reality that has me praying for Saeko and Miwa to end up happy, so next I'd like to ask a little about about how you learned to imbue your writing with such reality, and what techniques you use.

Tamifull: I'll do my best (laughs).

47: First, the depth and internality of your characters. For instance, after breaking up with Saeko, Miwa dates the younger Tamaki. Tamaki is reserved and very low-energy. She's clearly at a loss with the more sexually-motivated Miwa, but nonetheless does her best to reciprocate in her own way. She's straightforward and can be a little childish, but has an intellectual side to her, as well. Accurately portraying such a complex, difficult character must necessitate having an incredibly keen eye for people. How did you learn to understand other people so well?

Tamifull: I think it was mostly my experience in school. In primary and middle school I was low on the pecking order, so I became very sensitive to other people's hostility.

47: Ah, the pecking order... That does happen, doesn't it.

Tamifull: Yes. I'd be in a group of maybe 5 or 6 friends in a class and then once every few months I'd get the silent treatment and end up being ostracized from the group, in this sort of rotation. I'd go through 2 or 3 groups and it would always happen. I think all the time I spent thinking about how to avoid being targeted like that played a big part.

47: Planning out the battle to make it out alive, so to speak.

Tamifull: I think that really helped cultivate my eye (laughs). Like, this girl's the ringleader, and these ones are joining in because they don't want to become the target themselves, but this other girl is actually nice so even when they're ganging up on me she won't join in.

47: I see. Even while you were being mistreated, you were trying to understand things from their perspective. Certainly How Do We Relationship? doesn't have any one character that you would really call a villain.

Tamifull: That's right. Take Kan, who tells Miwa "I hate you" in volume 2, or Tamaki's friend Nagi who calls her "gross" in volume 8. I think it would be too convenient if nobody was ever mean or unpleasant, so it's important to have such characters. But I also try to portray them as having their own reasons. It's not like everyone will be good to each other all the time, but for each person, there's a community out there somewhere that will accept them as themselves. I'm always including that idea, that wish, almost, as I write the various members of the music club.

47: The story has this warmth to it you can really feel, and I think that idea has a lot to do with it. That said, it sounds like you weren't always successful at avoiding bullying. That must have been difficult.

Tamifull: I spent a lot of time wrapped in my futon wondering, why do they treat me like that? As the days went by I'd end up sublimating my anger and frustration by telling myself, "They have their own problems so there's nothing I can do about it." Like, this girl might have a lot of stress at home, about her grades or other things, so she just feels too much pressure and gets pushed into bullying, or things like that. I really got in the habit of thinking about things from their perspective.

47: You are an incredibly kind person. I do think the eye you cultivated that way serves you well in writing characters. For example, in volume 3, we meet Miwa's first crush, Shiho. At home, we see Shiho being horribly mistreated by her parents, who only care for her more academically-minded younger sister, Maho. One day Maho snaps at her, saying "Don't talk back to me, moron! You know how much I have to carry thanks to your stupidity!?". But Shiho just accepts it, and keeps her unhappiness to herself. That's in volume 11, that we finally find out how Maho, who's caused Shiho so much pain, has been feeling.

Tamifull: Maho also feels a lot of pressure from their parents, and she's desperate not to fail. She's under a lot of stress from that. When they were younger, Shiho and Maho were actually very close--Maho loved her older sister--but as grades and examinations started to get involved that connection became twisted... I wasn't able to show all of this in the story, but I always think through these details before drawing.

47: That sort of thing does happen between siblings, doesn't it... Just remembering is a little painful.

Tamifull: But, as much as I analyze people like this, it's very difficult to put into words.

47: In what way?

Tamifull: If you say "Well, this person has this kind of background, so that's why they do these things" then everyone will be like, "And what do you know about them?". You'll end up hurting feelings. So I can't say it about real people, but with How Do We Relationship? I'm the author so I can draw whatever I want. When I hear readers talk about the "realism" I'm always like, "Really? You mean I actually did it?". I secretly get a little happy about it (laughs).

47: Did you always want to become a mangaka, growing up?

Tamifull: I did always like drawing. But when I was pretty young I read one of those "So you want to draw manga?" kind of books and I got very intimidated by all the different erasers and tones and things, and I sort of gave up (laughs). It wasn't until I'd completely retired from extracurriculars in college that I realized I didn't have enough to do and started drawing manga.

47: And then you became a mangaka as soon as you graduated?

Tamifull: Yes, that's right.

47: That's quite something. Not many people manage to do that, right?

Tamifull: The reason I started attending Comitia was because in college I finally learned that editors would be there. Up until then I was working with my childhood knowledge--I thought I had to submit my work to a company and then become an assistant before I could become an author myself. When I found out I was like, "Doujinshi will get me fans and even expose me to editors? What could be better!?". I had my heart set on it.

47: (laughs). What kinds of things were you inspired by when you were a child?

Tamifull: All the way through school I was into stuff that was a little different from whatever was in fashion. I liked watching slightly older anime on Kids' Station, for instance. Like, look at me! I'm not into the same stuff as everybody else! Aren't I cool? (laughs).

47: (laughs).

Tamifull: When everyone else was into Cardcaptor Sakura, I was watching Takahashi Rumiko-sensei's Ranma 1/2 and Maison Ikkoku. I remember when I read one of Ito Junji-sensei's works at a relative's house it left a big impression on me. When I was in college I bought the collector's edition of Tomie at Village Vanguard.

47: You grew up into a bit of an alt college student.

Tamifull: In college, going to Village Vanguard and fishing for manga nobody else had became something of a passion for me.

47: What about Takahashi Rumiko-sensei's work did you like in particular?

Tamifull: I especially liked the way she drew girls. In the early 2000s, when I was in primary school, it was very in fashion for girls to be drawn very slender and light, with delicate limbs.

47: Slenderness was certainly emphasized a lot back then, yes.

Tamifull: I preferred how Rumiko-sensei drew them--a little squishy. As far as the story goes, I loved the ending of Maison Ikkoku, how it portrays the characters moving forward in life. I read it over and over. I think that passion for people comes through a little in How Do We Relationship?.

47: In the afterword of volume 3, you mentioned that from middle school until about halfway through college you lost interest in manga, and were more into drama and music.

Tamifull: That's true. Sometimes I'd draw a buff Pikachu or something on the blackboard to try to get a laugh out of people, but that was about it.

47: A buff Pikachu? (laughs). I wish I could see it.

Tamifull: At co-ed schools I think girls mostly end up ranked by looks, but I went to an all-girls high school, so... It was really about who was the funniest.

47: So art was a way of giving yourself a gimmick.

Tamifull: That's right. That continued into college, so I always had the position of somebody who's just a little bit good at drawing. In college everyone was nice, though.

47: In that same afterword you mentioned that during the time you weren't drawing manga, you really enjoyed making things together with a group.

Tamifull: In high school I was in the school band, and we'd all put on plays together at school festivals. I joined the light music club in college. I did percussion in high school so I mostly played drums, or did vocals.

47: Oooh. What kinds of things did you play in the light music club?

Tamifull: Just normal rock. Popular stuff, like Go! Go! 7188.

47: I have an impression of you as being a little bit countercultural, so rock seems perfect for you (laughs).

Tamifull: In college I was also on the student festival committee, so I was doing double duty a little bit. And as much as I enjoyed making things with other people, I started to feel this hole open up, like inside I'd be thinking "I could do this so much better...". Then I started looking into manga again on a whim and realized everything had gone digital. You don't need to hire a bunch of assistants, and you can do tones with the press of a button. It was like this new environment where I could try my hand at manga by myself was prepared just in time as I came of age. I didn't have to hold myself back for anyone, and could do everything just how I wanted. That's why I've always worked alone.

47: What!? You don't have any assistants even now?

Tamifull: I don't.

47: Watanabe-san, is that normal?

Watanabe: It's extremely precious to us. She's really something, isn't she? I don't know how she puts out so much in just two weeks.

Tamifull: I want every angle and composition just so. I can't really express it well, so when I think about trying to explain it to someone else, I just feel like it would end up taking even more time... But then sometimes I'll be working from my storyboards and I'll be like, "Why did I make myself draw it like this!?" and end up suffering a little (laughs).

47: It's certainly a work that cuts no corners. The dialogue is always so well written and moving--do you start by writing the characters' lines?

Tamifull: Yes, I do. I'll write them all out at once, then adapt them to the storyboards as I go. I think all the time I spent agonizing in my futon when I was younger like "I should've said this..." or "And then they'd say that..." might also help here.

47: You always include afterword comics and omake in the tankoubon releases, so I get a sense that you're quite particular about manga books.

Tamifull: I love manga that includes a lot of little extras. And I want readers to enjoy How Do We Relationship? as much as possible, so I always go all out drawing them.

47: Your first announced works were around 2012, and in 2014 you made your commercial debut with Don't Call me a Goddess! in Bungeisha's 4-koma magazine Manga Time. The main character, Saotome-san, is a bit of a tryhard, and as much as that wins her respect from her peers, it also tends to alienate them. Into her life barrels the far less inhibited Ryou. After that, you had My Little Sister and the Sex Doll (Shueisha) serialized in Tonari no Young Jump, about an innocent and naive high school girl and a talking sex doll. Both manga were comedies.

Tamifull: How Do We Relationship? was a little bit of a break in genre, yes (laughs). My Little Sister and the Sex Doll also started as something I made as a change of pace for Comitia (laughs).

47: It's a very rhythmical work--the talking sex doll's lines are incredibly well crafted.

Tamifull: The editors at Young Jump really liked it. It was a little more crude than what I usually write, so I did have some doubts... but they were very kind in offering me the serialization. I had to exercise my vocabulary to the fullest.

47: As much as it made me laugh, I could also somehow feel your desire to break taboos coming through.

Tamifull: That's true. I was trying to make fun of dirty comics, while making a dirty comic (laughs). Even when there would be the setup for some sort of fanservice scene, with something sexual happening to the girl, I would always interrupt it with a joke and turn it into something decidedly not fanservice.

47: On the other hand, something about the relationship between Saotome-san and Ryou in Don't Call Me a Goddess! feels like it connects to Miwa and Saeko. Are you particularly fond of that sort of relationship?

Tamifull: Honestly, that was... completely unintentional. I think, when it comes to protagonists, I do like a character who is quiet, but unexpectedly stubborn... When I think about my time in school, I had a lot of experiences where there would be another girl, and she'd have this sense of separation, like a bit of a boundary around herself, but when I approached her she'd turn out to actually be really interesting. And I'd have this feeling of "Everyone else doesn't even know how cool she is!? I need to let everyone know!". I think that feeling, almost like wanting to become a producer for girls like that, has led me to write my protagonists that way.

47: You really love girls.

Tamifull: I may have spent long years in fierce battle with them at school, but when I translate it to manga they become strangely appealing. Even when they're a pain, their being a pain is good in of itself (laughs). It's true that characters who aren't straightforward can make a story more interesting, but I also think that's just how people are--you can't sum anyone up in a few words. Don't you agree?

47: Your manga, including How Do We Relationship?, really don't tend to have characters that you can sum up as "the cool one" or "the tsundere" or anything like that.

Tamifull: That's right. I don't want them to be symbols.

47: And that's exactly why, in each case--Saeko and Miwa, Miwa and Tamaki, Saeko and Yuria--when they break up, it's so emotionally impactful. You can't just point at one of them and say, "It's her fault."

Tamifull: Right. In reality, lots of people break up all the time without either one really being at fault. It makes me really happy to hear that people read the story as just being how things ended up for them. It's so easy to assume that when a relationship falls apart, it's because someone's in the wrong. I worked very hard to make sure that Tamaki and Yuria would be charming enough characters for readers to like them, and to accept it when I made them break up with Miwa and Saeko. I always look at readers' reactions and think carefully about how to proceed.

47: How Do We Relationship? really feels like you want to closely examine real, "normal" relationships.

Tamifull: I think it's a pity for the socially accepted image of love to be something so narrow. When two women date, and after breaking up return to being friends, I think people have a tendency to look a little askance at them. But why is that? I always find myself thinking, "Are you okay with living like that?". With How Do We Relationship?, I wanted to create a world where Miwa and Saeko and everyone else's desires wouldn't be crushed by those around them.

47: Especially during the first 3 volumes, you often shine the spotlight on the other characters around Miwa and Saeko. Is that also a part of fleshing out that view of the world?

Tamifull: Something like that. I don't want the idea of someone who likes the same sex to be something fantastical. I want to show that sexual minorities are all around--even around you. I want heterosexual readers to also get into the story, and I was very conscious of that early on in the serialization. I think whether you're gay or straight, you can still understand this story. These characters are just like you. That's the message I've tried to send.

47: It would be really wonderful if we could become a society where everyone views each other with respect. What would that take, I wonder?

Tamifull: Delusions, maybe.

47: Delusions? (laughs).

Tamifull: Yes (laughs). This is just my own experience, but when I meet someone and feel off-put by them, I always thoroughly imagine their background. By the time I'm finished whatever anger I felt has faded, and I feel ready to treat them better--maybe even to become close with them. And if you write stories you can come up with great material this way, so it's two birds with one stone (laughs).

[stllmnstr]

breathing room — a lee heeseung drabble

2.5k / enemies to lovers

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing.

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal properly.

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat.

Yours, to be exact.

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us a both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool, in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon, tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall, but suddenly find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway  as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to be told twice.

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

Titan tower-infirmary

Beast boy munching on a sandwich, starring deep in thought at embers flaming hair: "so, I know you guys are able to ignore gravity for the most part, but does your hair flame always point to up?"

Ember, currently applying mascara and other assorted makeup to dannys sleeping face: "uh, usually why?"

Beastboy: "just curious how your hair would react in an actual weightless location like space, not just the realms.

Dani, idly floating next to dannys stretcher resting her head in her hands: "Same as those NASA videos, there's no up so it balls around its source".

Ember grimacing: "Ugh, don't remind me"

Beastboy: "why, did something happen?"

Danny pretending to be asleep: "she stowed away in the Apollo 11 capsule in '69 hoping to get broadcast worldwide, let's just say it would have been hilarious if it worked!"

Ember resisted the urge to swat his face, undoing all her work. "Probably would have worked if you didn't stop me"

Robin: "I dont recall anything unusual happening in the recorded footage... wait, is that what the time gap was about?"

Dani: "that's because gramps told us to deal with it, so we did. We have a copy of it if you want to see it, has to be stored outside time though so you'd be going to the infinite realms for a bit to do so".

Danny opening his eyes to look at ember: "hey, you still looked hot, even if turned out like a pixie cut!"

Ember glaring: "don't make me draw on your face babypop!"

Danny grinning: "and ruin all your good work? Never!"

Beastboy proceeded to protect his sandwich as ember started fighting danny around the room!

Fire in space

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

i understand that its cool to receive fanart, but ur really lenient about people who draw these characters thinner than they really are, and as a steven universe blog with art that is really respectful about bigger bodies its really disappointing to see u supporting these people skinnyfying fat characters

Here's the thing about your message:

It assumes everyone drawing bigger characters skinnier is doing so with fully acknowledged malicious intent

It assumes that openly shaming people for it will fix the problem and make them draw fat characters 'properly'

I'm going to be completely honest with you for a moment.

I'm a teacher. I teach kids from ages 8 to about 15 (currently I'm teaching younger grades, but I've worked a lot with the older demographic as well.) So take what I say with the comfort that I at least know a little bit of what I'm talking about.

Why does this matter? Because a lot of the fanart that is gifted to me by this community comes not from adults, but from children. Sometimes, they're teens who have been drawing for a few years! Sometimes they're younger kids who have only recently begun to develop their skills.

Here's the reality - drawing bodies is hard. ANY bodies - skinny ones, fat ones, unusually shaped ones. In order to get good at it, you have to draw them a lot! And in order to draw, you need to find ways to practice. Usually, this happens by the budding artist looking around at other artists and copying them. Or looking at tutorials.

Here's another reality - unfortunately, the majority of art online, the majority of tutorials online, don't touch on drawing larger characters. They simply pretend it's not a thing. Finding references to larger people can take work! Getting started drawing larger people if you only have skinny-people references... is hard!

You know what doesn't make it easier? Getting shamed and told off by another artist for drawing characters 'too skinny'.

I teach English to students who have never learned English before. From 8 year olds to 15 year olds, you know what the one thing that remains constant is? Learning happens best through kindness and positive reinforcement. Not through shame and grabbing the child's attention and smearing it in their mistake like you're punishing a puppy that peed on the floor.

In fact, yelling at people of ANY age about their mistake pretty rarely gets them to stop making that mistake. What ends up happening more often is that they end up hating that activity altogether.

There's a reason I consciously and indiscriminately reblog all sorts of art - all of it has something that the artist excels at. Do all of them have great body proportions that are correct for the character? No. Some art is clearly made by people who are not used to drawing anything except super skinny characters!

But all of them ARE kind enough to read my comic, which I try to fill with body types that are diverse, true to the show itself. And that, in and of itself, is exposing them to art styles that don't have to over-rely on anime or CLAMP-esque noodly kids that look like they just popped out of Wonka's Laffy machine.

So yes, maybe they draw Steven or Rose too skinny. But they're also looking at Rose and Steven and clearly find them adorable, and maybe someday, they'll try something different for a change. It's not my job to rub their nose in the fact that they haven't gotten the chance to experiment yet. It's also not my job to ignore them if they don't have the 'correct' proportions, because like it or not, that's also punishment.

I do make it my job to try to reblog the fanart I see and promote it, because getting positive reinforcement and being encouraged to continue to experiment with art is what will make kids and teens AND adults confident enough to go beyond the socially-accepted weight-limit for MCs.

I know it can feel demoralizing to see a lot of character with your body type erased and made skinny as if that's a 'prettier' version of them. But 90% of the people drawing Steven skinny aren't doing it because they hate you. It's because they haven't been told it's ok to draw characters chubby. Or fat. And the unlearning part of that sort of thing is a process that needs support, not shame.

I don't expect you to be kind if you're hurt by that. You can react any way you want, and anger is a healthy emotion in this case.

But if you want ME to react with malice on your behalf, then I'm afraid I won't. I have another job to do, and that job is teaching with kindness.

[cveasie]

My haikaveh headcanons:

- Haitham falls first, during the academia years, but he just kinda... accepts it? He's not the type to voice his feelings, he'd rather show them through his actions - even if they aren't clear enough for the other person to understand. He doesn't need Kaveh to know. He just needs Kaveh to... feel appreciated, in any way. For him, love is another language to master; not only for the sake of Kaveh, but also for his own. He cherishes the feeling and never denies it.

- Kaveh on the other hand, falls harder. I'd like to imagine that it happens some time after he'd moved in with Haitham. Somehow, through this sense of normalcy, domesticy, he starts to dig deeper into Haitham's actions. More importantly, gradually, he starts to notice: he starts to notice how his heart clenches in this burning feeling of appreciation, of belonging. It just feels right - Haitham feels right - they, together, feel right. And, oh, he loves him, and he has for some time now. His love for Haitham feels right as well.

- While Haitham knows Kaveh like the back of his own hand, he doesn't even consider that his feelings are mutual. Kaveh has always been focused on the academics, driven, passionate – romantic relationships didn't concern him during their academia days. While a romantic at heart, reality just often... fell flat, and Kaveh didn't mind it whatsoever. So, Alhaitham has never seen Kaveh crushing on someone. Of course, he notices the architect's sudden nervousness around him – Kaveh tends to bite his lips when anxious. Of course Haitham sees the way Kaveh starts to spend more time on his hair and make up. How could he not? How could he not, when his braids look more perfect than ever (though the scribe finds Kaveh's messy hair equally beautiful – the sign of his hard work, of his passion), when the jewelry matches the blouse perfectly, every day. Mere noticing however, doesn't equal with knowing. And Alhaitham hates the feeling of uncertainty, this weird, almost uncharacteristic anxiety for him. Something has changed. Why? What has caused Kaveh to feel such devotion, that even his dark circles have almost disappeared under a neat layer of concealer? So, he starts to pry. Subtly. He takes an extra minute to get ready, just so he can talk to Kaveh a little more, hoping for any kind of information. In the evenings, he starts to sit unusually close to the architect, watching him sketch – maybe its a new project? A new client? Why wouldn't Kaveh tell him? To his absolute misery however, the architect only seems to draw further and further away. He starts to stumble on his words, starts leaving for work earlier, as if embarrassed, as if he couldn't even look at Alhaitham. That's when it strikes Haitham – maybe he is the one making Kaveh uncomfortable?

- It starts with a question:

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Asks Haitham one day, during a seemingly peaceful evening. Kaveh's cheeks are dusty pink, and he's smiling to himself. With the question, his expression changes almost completey.

"Is my junior suddenly insecure? It's so unlike you to ask about such things..."

There is a hint of teasing in the architect's voice, but even that cannot hide a clear nervousness in his behavior. There is a sudden tension in the room, and Alhaitham also starts to feel anxious.

"Well... you've been acting strange, that's all. After observing you for quite a while, I've come to the conclusion that the problem must be in my presence – it's the only logical option".

Then, Kaveh's lips are on his. Things happen so quick, he doesn't even have time to respond, to kiss him back, when the architect is looking at him with teary eyes and a hand over his mouth. He looks terrified, ashamed, suddenly so small, despite his usual confident face. All of this takes Haitham a bit too long, because Kaveh is suddenly standing up.

"I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to. I didn't think, I just acted, I..." he doesn't get to finish, when his hand is grabbed in a gentle grip, and he's lead to sit on the couch once again.

Then, they talk. For this whole time, Haitham doesn't let go of Kaveh's hand, looking at him with gentle eyes, full of disbelief. He doesn't even notice the tears on his own cheeks until Kaveh makes a snarky remark about it. After two hours of talking, he kisses Kaveh back. After few years of waiting, he kisses Kaveh back. And to Kaveh, this feels right.

[wanderersbell]

a birthday wish

traveling companion!wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 3211

a/n: it's finally his birthday aaaa i love him sm (real). scaranation we gotta come together and make sure he gets everything he could ever want and more!! .:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*) enjoy!

something has changed.

over time, the wanderer has gotten used to the unusual things you do. it’s typically no cause for concern when you do strange things here and there, but this time it’s different. he can’t figure out why, but you’ve been giving him these quick thoughtful glances all week that are starting to get on his nerves. 

“if you’re going to look so shamelessly,” he had said in a bored voice a few days into this new habit of yours when he caught you in the act and you averted your gaze. “you may as well just keep staring since you’re not very subtle about it to begin with.”

you had given him an unimpressed glower in response and then closed your eyes as if to prove a point, but he still caught you looking again less than an hour after that, searching his face like you might find an answer there. an answer to what? he doesn’t know - and he’s not too sure he’s ready to find out either. maybe it would be better not to know.

the heavy weight of your gaze became such a common occurrence that he noticed right away when you stopped doing it. as much as he wanted to deny it, it bothered him that you’d suddenly lost interest in whatever it was that kept drawing your attention before. did you get tired of looking at him? did you finally find whatever it was that you were looking for? do you no longer find him interesting? are you going to leave?

he refuses to voice these thoughts, unwilling to acknowledge that he might be a bit clingy despite himself and has resorted to simply trying to bring your gaze back to him in any way possible. 

however, if you’ve noticed how much more effort he’s put into fighting enemies and carrying out the small menial tasks for you that he usually complains about, you stay silent about it and carry on as per usual, eyes never staying on him for longer than a few seconds at a time. 

then finally, on a day that he expects to be as normal as the rest, you stomp over to his side and drop a wicker basket down on the table in front of him with a thud. “we’re going on a picnic.” you state cheerily.

he feels his heart jump into his throat for a split second before he realizes, no, there’s no way you would know. he hasn’t mentioned it once. for you to somehow have figured out today is his birthday is impossible, so surely this is just one of your spontaneous ideas that you like to spring on him without warning. the fact that he allowed himself to think like that, even for the quickest moment, has him curling his hands into fists under the table. he doesn’t deserve anything from you, especially not on a day like this.

“do i even have a say in the matter?” he grumbles, already pushing himself up from his seat. the wanderer moves to reach for the handle of the basket with the intent of opening the lid and finding out what's inside, but you react faster than him and swipe it right out from under his prying hands.

he raises a suspicious brow at the basket that’s now hidden behind your back. “what did you pack? it’s not a bunch of sweets, is it?”

a knowing smile finds its way to your lips that makes his blood run cold and burn hot through his veins at the same time. “you’ll see when we get there.” 

“and where might that be?” the wanderer asks impatiently while crossing his arms over his chest. “oh wait, let me guess,” he follows up sarcastically, trying to ignore the fond look of exasperation on your face. “i’ll find out when we get there?”

you make a small affirmative sound through your soft giggles and start leading him in the direction of this mysterious destination. he follows you without resistance and makes sure to walk at the same speed as you so he remains directly at your left side. 

it’s nearing late afternoon as the two of you weave down winding paths that lead to varying parts of the rain forest, and the warm light that blankets everything in its reach paired with your presence next to him brings him the same happy contented feeling that being near you always draws out of him. 

it’s a feeling he still struggles to accept, to convince himself he can allow himself to have. the burden of the things he’s done in a past life of his and the instinct to shut out anything that threatens to break through his resolve always make themselves known at the worst times; hanging thickly in the air and trailing slowly behind him like they’re waiting for him to turn around and fall back into his old beliefs. 

but when he looks over to see you walking closer to him than necessary but still making sure to give him his personal space, clearly wanting to be near him but still respecting his boundaries all the same, the wanderer finds that it has become much easier to ignore the part of himself that still craves self destruction. 

the wicker basket swings back and forth in your hand and your eyes are fixed on your feet as you walk, trying to mirror your traveling companions’ pace step by step. a small determined smile rests at your lips while you try not to mess up the timing of each movement. 

eventually, the path you’re on splits and tapers off into a smaller trail that you both merge on to. a bit farther ahead where the trees give way to a clearing, a lush green field that sits on a small hill comes into view. the grass is strewn with wildflowers of all sorts, dancing gently in the wind that sweeps through the delicate blades. 

he comes to a halt next to you when you stop abruptly at the bottom of the hill. “we’re here,” you announce proudly, squinting a bit against the sun. “it’s nice, right?”

the wanderer hums indifferently, secretly admiring the vast stretch of greenery that glows golden under the setting sun while you dig a small blanket out of the basket and unfold it to sit on. he joins you a bit too eagerly, kneeling to lower himself down on his knees right across from you on the fabric. 

it’s almost unfair how enchanting you look against the backdrop of vibrant flowers with the orange sun framing you from behind like a halo, and he can’t help but be grateful that he doesn’t have to breathe in the first place because he surely would’ve passed out from a lack of oxygen by now with how often you take his breath away. 

far too distracted by these thoughts, he fails to realize how long he’s been admiring you until you suddenly speak up. 

“now who’s the one with the staring problem?” you tease with amusement evident in your voice. he doesn’t miss the sly glance you give him and scoffs to cover up his embarrassment. 

“i wasn’t staring,” he starts to refute, but quickly forgets to finish his sentence when he sees the things you finally start unpacking from the picnic basket one by one. four perfectly made cat shaped onigiri lined up on a rectangular platter are placed in the middle of the blanket, followed by two servings of cold soba noodles in hand painted porcelain bowls and a small roll of bird egg sushi. 

a very rare positive moment of nostalgia and longing for his home region swirls through his chest at the sight of dishes that he’s sure he hasn’t had in at least two hundred years. “it’s…” the wanderer trails off, unable to stop the frown that weighs down his eyebrows. 

“traditional inazuman dishes!” you finish for him, unaware of the confusion brewing up a storm in his head. it’s blatantly obvious you did all of this with him in mind, but he just can’t figure out why. he knows for absolute certainty that he has never mentioned the date of his creation, but what kind of coincidence is this? if he didn’t know any better, especially with all of the staring you had been doing recently, he’d probably assume you’re a mind reader, but he knows that isn’t possible so what on earth-

“do you… like it?” you ask quietly, sounding almost unsure. the wanderer realizes with a start that he’s been sitting here scowling at the food for the last few moments and the proud expression on your face had at some point morphed into one of nervousness. he internally chastises himself before nodding in response to your question. 

“it looks nice,” he says honestly, picking up one of the feline shaped onigiri and inspecting the carefully molded rice that resembles two pointed ears. the seaweed wrapping is cut into small shapes to form whiskers and eyes and a smiling mouth. 

he’s reluctant to admit it but they’re… cute. adorable, even. it’s safe to say in all the time he’s been around he has yet to see such innocently crafted rice balls, and he isn’t even aware of the small grin on his face as he looks at it against his palm. 

“you made all of this?” the wanderer asks despite already knowing the answer. he reveres in the way you shrug proudly and nod at his question, eyes sparkling excitedly as you hand him a pair of chopsticks from the basket. 

“mhm!” you confirm while carefully lifting a piece of sushi from the platter. “i found some recipes in an old cookbook and wanted to see if i could do it. try it!”

at your insistence, he finally takes a bite of the onigiri and hums appreciatively at the tuna filling in the center when he chews. the portions are perfect, the rice to filling ratio was obviously measured carefully, and the mental image of you in the kitchen putting so much care into these dishes makes his chest swell with so much fondness that the wanderer has to start digging into the other items to keep his cool. 

everything you made is delicious. there is certainly room for improvement, but to say the wanderer is impressed is nearly an understatement. he’s sure there’s no way you got it this perfect on the first try so there must have been multiple failed attempts before this, and plenty of trial and error. it doesn’t take long to finish everything between the two of you, and thinking about how much effort you put into this food from his place of origin on this conveniently timed picnic in a field surrounded by his favorite flowers has him seconds away from giving in and asking if you somehow knew, but he doesn’t get the chance when you reach into the basket and present two empty glass jars. 

he quirks a questioning brow and at the same time takes notice of the fact that the sun has already descended into the horizon and the sky has taken on a cool blue and orange ombré that draws out tiny flickering fireflies with every passing minute. they look like miniature floating stars against the darkening field of wildflowers, and when he looks back at you he can see them reflecting off of your eyes in an enchanting light show that carries with it a million unspoken words. 

“well,” you say while handing him one of the jars. “lets catch some fireflies, shall we?”

he takes it from you and stands up to entertain your plan, but still grumbles out a, “this is so childish.” just loud enough for you to hear. the melodic ring of your laughter fills the cool dusk air with an ever so comforting familiarity. 

amidst the dimming and glowing sea of lightning bugs, the wanderer watches in awe as you gleefully uncap your jar and start trying to usher them inside. he can’t take his eyes off of you as you skip after them, as graceful and carefree as a leaf fluttering in the wind. 

pretty, he thinks to himself amidst the field of flowers. though he had expected nothing from today, this turn of events is undeniably better than he’d like to admit. 

while he wasn’t looking, a single firefly had found its way into the jar in his hand and rested lazily at the bottom, almost as if it was tired from flying. like living up to its own purpose had taken everything out of it, and in a last attempt to be useful it let itself settle into the hands of the enemy. he watches the firefly glow weakly with a complicated expression, finding himself feeling strangely empathetic for the pitiful thing.  

unbeknownst to him, you had managed to catch a handful of fireflies in your own jar where they flew around leisurely and bumped into the sides of the glass every now and then. you return to his side without saying a word and uncap your jar, tilting it over the opening of his and letting one of the fireflies in your jar find its way into his before securing the lids on both of them. 

the firefly you had given him immediately makes its way to the bottom of the jar where the other one sits idly, and within seconds the once pitiful lightning bug starts flapping its wings and joins the second one in a speckled yellow dance near the top. when he looks over at you, you’re already staring at him, and the depth of the emotion swirling around in your e/c eyes sends a spark of muffled electricity down his spine. 

“make a wish,” you whisper towards him through the approaching dark. the wanderer quirks a brow at this, trying to figure out what wishes have to do with fireflies. 

“a wish? why?”

“just do it.” you reiterate, gesturing to his hand holding the cool glass. the wanderer huffs and glances down at the jar in his hands where the two fireflies hover around each other and then looks back up to you, watching with eagerness written clear all over your face.

wishes are such arbitrary things, nothing more than useless sentiment that sets someone up for disappointment when it doesn’t come true, but it’s hard not to indulge you when you’re practically vibrating with anticipation in front of him.

“you first.” he demands, leaving no room for negotiation. 

“fine,” you relent and groan lightheartedly. a soft yellow glow illuminates your face as you lift the jar to rest against your forehead and close your eyes. when you open them again, you lower it and meet his gaze steadily.

“my wish is to spend many more birthdays with you.” you announce with a sincere smile. “happy birthday, wanderer.”

all he can do is stare in mild shock for a few moments, and when your words fully register the wanderer’s eyes widen almost comically. “wait- how did you-“

your own eyes squint shut with a delighted giggle. “a little birdie told me this very important day was coming up soon,” you explain slyly, clearly pleased that he hadn’t figured it out yet. “so i wanted to do something for you.”

though your words are vague, he catches on almost immediately and fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose at the realization. 

lesser lord kusanali, he sighs inwardly. i should’ve known.

“you shouldn’t have done all of this for me,” the wanderer mutters, trying his best to keep his voice even. he’s annoyingly touched by everything and swallows back a lump in his throat as tears threaten to prick his eyes. through the countless decades of birthdays that have passed by him without notice, nobody would have even considered doing stuff like this for him, not even if they knew.

you’re so kind to him, always including him and going out of your way to do things for him even though he’s the last person in teyvat to deserve such a thing. it stirs the part of him that wants to claw its way out and reject this, to roar with rage at how ridiculous it is to waste your time on somebody like him. but all he can do is stare at you in wonder, burning under the warmth of your attention. 

“well i wanted to, so i did.” you shrug unapologetically. “if you hadn’t been created today all that time ago we never would’ve met, so of course it should be celebrated.”

he’s beyond grateful for the low light right now because he knows you can’t see the deep flush on his cheeks at how boldly you’re able to say these things. the confirmation that everything today - and all of the staring and planning leading up to it - was indeed all for him, has him at a momentary loss for words.  

“you mean you really…”

“i want to stay by your side.” there’s so much honesty and confidence behind your statement that his jaw opens and closes like a fish a few times before he can decide on how to respond. 

“how foolish,” he says sharply but a bit shakily. “what if you regret it?”

“and what if i don’t?” you counter without missing a beat. “the future is whatever it will be, and right now i’m choosing this.”

you’re right, and he knows it. he knows firsthand that there is no changing the path of fate, that the wisest thing one can do is to live in the moment and go wherever life takes them. he swore he would never care for another being, would never again play the part of a human or allow himself to feel as one - but when you stare right through his eyes and into his soul like this, he can’t ignore the way he yearns to live a life that allows him to be with you every day. 

with that said, you turn on your heel and skip back out to the middle of the field again, emptying your jar with a gleeful laugh. the glittering bugs in the air look like moving constellations around you. you, the burning sun at the center of a universe that sustains the cold, lonely planet that once orbited alone in the dark for so long.

“c’mon!” you call out to him cheerfully. “if you can’t catch more than me you’ll have to make two wishes!”

gazing down meaningfully at the two lightning bugs flying together in his jar, the wanderer makes his first one into the night under his breath, so quietly that not even the moon would be able to overhear. it’s plain and not at all what he expects to say, but it escapes his lips in a soft admission of the truth.

“if your wish is to stay by my side, then my wish is only you.”

the wanderer opens the jar and watches them flutter away, with the little buzzing stars reflecting in his eyes and the sound of your laughter gracing his ears. 

maybe over time he would learn to enjoy his birthdays, as long as he gets to have them with you.

[scarletwritesshit]

🍸 Gallagher x Reader 🍸Solitude of the Dreaming City

The typically bustling streets were unusually silent and empty for this time of night. The only wandering souls out and about were those who perhaps had an errand to run, or the oddities who preferred to roam the streets in solitude to indulging in a dreaming delusion. Some continued to run their businesses into the wee hours of the night; though not very profitable, it still served as their own form of escapism.

The bareness of the streets suggested that the bar that you frequented would be peacefully quiet and empty, free of untamable crowds. It wasn’t so much a drink that you were craving at this hour, but rather, the company of Gallagher, the enigmatic bartender. He never was one for talking about himself, leaving what conclusions you could draw as being no better than mere theories. Nonetheless, you did have frequent conversations with him, especially on the quietest nights with not an eavesdropper in the vicinity.

You opened up the door and the bell above you rang gently, signaling your arrival. The atmosphere was just about what you expected; silence laying thick in the room with the exception of quiet music playing in the background.

Around this time, Gallagher was usually cleaning up for the day, wiping down dirty tables and polishing drinking glasses till they were crystal clear. Currently, you saw him standing behind the table, with a soapy sponge in hand vigorously cleaning out a glass that appeared to be the unfortunate victim of a particularly sloppy drinker. He held it up to a light in front of him, checking for any spots before he dared put it back in its proper place. For a moment, he was focused on the blemishes that still remained, until his eyes caught sight of you through the glass.

"Sit wherever you’d like,” Gallagher said, still polishing out the last of the blemishes on the glass.

You took a seat in front of him, and you watched intently as he continued polishing away.

"What will it be tonight?" he asked as he put the glass away to tend to your order.

The answer to that, you hadn’t thought quite that far yet. The purpose of a bar was to satisfy one’s thirst for a drink, yet you had yet to consider that perhaps it was your time to fulfill that very purpose. It was truthfully worth it to simply watch Gallagher as he tended to the upkeeping of his business, but you had your doubts that he was going to accept that and nothing further as your order.

"Oh uh, I haven’t really thought about it yet," you admitted.

"You were looking at me as if you had something in particular that you wanted to request," he observed. "Perhaps something better curated to how you feel might be more suitable than a specific flavor?"

He looked at you as if he could read your every emotion as plainly as if it were written in an open book. You had frequented the place enough times for him to be able to easily tell what was on your mind from your mannerisms alone. Come in looking a little sad, and he would craft you something soft to soothe your weary soul. If you were in particularly high spirits, he would mix up something sweet with a kick to it to fuel you through the evening. A bartender’s gift, perhaps. Or in this case, a curse, as he must be able to tell that you were more preoccupied with talking to him than ordering a drink, as he gave you a smile that hinted that he knew all. And the little bit of flush on your face wasn’t helping your defense either.

"I…don’t know, maybe nothing too overwhelming, yet not dull enough to put me to sleep?” you said, attempting to squeeze in a request before he got any funny ideas.

It seemed to be too late for that, as no matter what you would’ve asked of him, Gallagher appeared to already have plans for you himself. At your request, he smiled and nodded, and grabbed a freshly cleaned glass and slid it to the side. He took a few limes from a bowl on the counter behind him and laid them in a pile. Gallagher picked up one of the limes, which appeared even smaller than it actually was in his massive hand, and shoved his thumb into it and pulled it into halves with ease. Some juice squirted out of the flesh and trickled down his worn, calloused hands, dampening his gloves with sticky, sour juices. He took one half in each hand and squeezed the juice into the cup, then sat aside the drained halves and repeated with another lime.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” he said as he worked at the limes.

“Oh, I was just…in the area I guess,” you said, in an attempt to not divulge your ulterior motives.

“In the area to see me, if I’m not mistaken,” he said with a wink, putting the last of the squeezed limes aside.

“Well, not exactly. You’re always by yourself at this time of night and so I- “

“Figured that I could use some company. The look in your eyes tell me everything.”

“…Perhaps,” you admitted, shying away from his gaze for a moment, “but who else is there to talk to at this hour?”

“There are quite a few other, much more livelier places, yet you chose to come back to the solitude here,” he said, flipping a bottle of tequila in the air, catching it in his hand, and sending the cap flying off with a single flick of his thumb. “Wouldn’t you rather head somewhere more entertaining?”

“It’s pretty dead outside, plus I’d rather chat with a close friend than try to fit in with a bunch of strangers.”

“Completely understandable,” he said as he watched the tequila pour from the bottle and the air bubbles within gurgle to the top. He flipped the bottle back upwards and slapped the cap back on.

You wished that you had more to talk about with him, but with every inquiry you made about his life, he left you with just as little knowledge as you had before. He wasn’t too enthusiastic about sharing any details about his day job as an officer, but a guess of yours was that the issue of confidentiality would arise. Gallagher wasn’t acting as if he were biting his tongue, either, so an equally likely possibility was that he thought that you would harbor little, if any, interest in his routine.

One thing you had learned to never pry at was his past, however. You had only bought up the question to him once, and he simply looked at you wondering why you were so eager to know about something that hardly mattered in the present. You quickly got the message that perhaps, it was a bit of a sensitive topic for him, hence why he never discussed it with you prior.

Gallagher was his own kind of enigma. The visible wear and tear on his body told a story on its own, from his beat-up hands to the scars he very lazily hid with bandages. You wanted to pry and learn of every tale that his body had to tell, but out of respect for him, you decided to leave those conversations to him to bring up.

Even more curious was how gracefully and gallantly he handled the strawberries in his rough, scarred hands, slicing the leaves off with such admirable speed and precision while leaving the plump fruit without as much as a dent. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the small silver knife he slid through the tops of the fruit, while handing the flesh itself with such care and precision.

The tips of his white glove became stained a light pink from the strawberry juices, but it bothered him not as he was slicing the strawberries and tossing them into a blender. When he was satisfied with the amount he had prepared, he topped it off with some ice, secured the lid, and turned it on a rather high setting. It ran with such speed and force, yet he held it down with one hand as he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with the other.

"I’ve never seen such grace in slicing strawberries, of all things," you said.

"It’s an acquired skill, I guess," he said, turning off the blender and pouring the mixture into the glass.

"Bet you’ve become honed through some real interesting experiences in life…”

"A combination of the two factors, maybe."

He grabbed one of the juiced limes and ran it around the edge of the glass, coating the top in sticky juices. His glove, covered in a concoction of strawberry and lime juices, was now starting to stick to his hand, so after taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a moment, he peeled off the sticky glove with his teeth, then spat it aside.

With his tattered hand now free, he grabbed a scoop of sugar crystals and sprinkled them along the edge of the glass, some falling onto the freshly cleaned counter. When he determined that it was blended thoroughly enough, he turned the blender off, popped the lid off, and poured its contents into the glass. With a swift flick of his surprisingly nimble wrist, he slid the glass over in front of you, not even spilling as much as a single drop.

He allowed you to add the finishing touch to his masterpiece by taking a few various colored straws between his fingers and presented them to you for you to select one that was to your liking.

"All done," he said, using his free hand to briefly take the cigarette out of his mouth.

You grabbed the straw that was most appealing to you, and he swiftly flipped the others back into the jar. Before taking a sip, you spared a moment to indulge yourself in the aroma of his expertly crafted concoction. It smelled very strongly of strawberries with just a zing of alcohol, enough to keep you in high spirits but not knock you out in an instant. You went to sample the drink, when Gallagher abruptly spun the straw towards him with a single flick of his finger.

"Wait a moment. Forgot something," he said.

Gallagher pulled out a rose from a vase that was on display on the counter. He plucked a couple of vibrant red petals and laid them on top of your drink to diffuse their flavor into the liquid. Then, he turned the straw back to you with a smile.

"What was that for?" you asked.

"A good drink is comprised of the heart and soul of both consumer and craftsman. I’d say a rose is pretty fitting for a time like now, no?"

Oh. So he meant it like that. You had to admit, the drink did taste pretty damn good infused with the rose petals, but Gallagher couldn’t make himself any more obvious at this point. As his words sank in, you remained silent as you kept your mouth on the straw, even without sipping the drink.

"No need to be shy around me, dear. It wasn’t hard to figure out why you’ve been choosing to crash at this place coincidentally when attendance was at a low," he said, looking at you as he rested his arm on the table.

"Aha, well..." you said, unable to find the words to defend yourself with.

"This ones on me, if you’d be willing to stay and chat just a little while longer.”

"Sure but, I thought you said that a drink is made from feelings of both...surely you don’t mean-"

"Hey, my offer stands regardless. Take it or leave it, you still won’t owe me any credits in the end."

"I wouldn’t mind sticking around to chat with you for a bit," you said, shyly twirling the straw around.

As he was wiping the juices from his hands with a towel, he smiled, satisfied with both his cleverly crafted beverage and your acceptance of his invitation.

"And... I do wish I could see you more often outside of your occupations."

"You and me both, sweetheart," he said, brushing some of your hair aside. "Thankfully, I doubt I’ll be seeing any more customers come in tonight, if it is truly as dead as you claim it to be out there.”

"From how the streets were looking, I assure you that the chances of someone else craving a drink at this hour are very slim.”

"Well, perfect time for a first date then, I’d say,” Gallagher said as he stood up to prepare a drink for himself.

“Agreed,” you said, pulling out a chair next to you for him to sit at.

[lou-struck]

Options, and Options, and Options…

Giyuu Tomioka x reader

Kimetsu Academy AU!

~When Giyuu is signed up to bring a treat for the Academy’s Bake sale, you help him figure out what to bring

WC: 1.7k

~This prompt was supposed to be a part of my Comfort Milestone Event, but I accidentally lost it for a few months… Oops... Thank you to everyone who sent in requests for this event!

Giyuu is more than ready to head home after a long day of teaching. Recently, he feels that he hasn’t gotten to spend any time with you, his darling significant other

“Mr. Tomioka!” a friendly yet loud voice calls from down the long hallway. Giyuu stops in his tracks and turns toward its owner. The History Teacher, Kyojuro Rengoku, rushes past clusters of students and comes toward him energetically, his bright and sincere smile never leaving his face. “The school-wide bake sale is tomorrow; what was it you signed up to bring?”

Giyuu blinks at the smiling man and responds, “There’s a bake sale tomorrow?”

Rengoku’s smile never falters as he pulls out a copy of the staff sign-up sheet. His name is written down in a bright green pen under the desert column, but that is not in his handwriting.

He realizes it must be Obanai since, for some reason, the other Teacher likes to play pranks on him. But he isn’t unliked, so it is a bit confusing to him why that is the case.

“Oh.”

“Yes, so you will be bringing dessert then?” the Teacher says in his usual loud voice. It draws attention from the passing students and staff, making the poor man feel a bit pressured. He likes Mr. Rengoku, so he doesn’t want to just back out now, even if Obanai did write his name down without asking him.

“I guess so,” he says, sealing his fate.

“That sounds wonderful; I hope I get to taste what you bring tomorrow,” he says happily, patting Giyuu on the back. The friendly gesture makes him happy, but he knows that there will be a bruise from just how strong the man is.

As the hallway clears out, The dark-haired Teacher sighs deeply, he wasn’t expecting to have to make something so last minute, but now maybe the two of you could bake something for the sale together.

~

You had just put away the dishes from the drying rack when your Fiance walked through the front door. An unusually troubled expression on his calm and handsome face as his sapphires look at you hopefully.

“Hi,” he mumbles, approaching you with intention. He is itching to ask you something.

“What’s wrong?” you ask sweetly as you wrap your arms around him. 

“There’s a bakesale at work tomorrow, and someone signed me up to bring something,” he explains. “I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if you would help me make something.” For some reason, he looks so ashamed to be telling you all this. (It’s just too cute.)

You brighten up and give him your happiest grin. “A bake sale!” you gush, never one to turn down a baking date, “What should we make?”

He gives you a rare smile, looking more than a bit relieved, “Do you really want to make something with me?”

“Absolutely, I love baking with you.” you smile. “I saved a bunch of baking videos that we can watch, “We have a bit of everything we need to bake, so we don’t need to worry about shopping for ingredients.”

The tenseness in his shoulders dissipates as he looks at you lovingly. “Thank you,” he whispers, enveloping your lips with his own in a grateful kiss. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

The sincerity tugs at your heartstrings, but you have hours of videos to watch, and the two of you could remain trapped in this sugary sweet moment for hours if you don’t do something to shatter it. “And I don’t know what I would do without Giyuu.”

At the utterance of your terrible pun, he pulls away and flicks you on the forehead. “I’m going to go and change out of these clothes, and then we can start,” he says, turning abruptly and disappearing down the hall and into your bedroom. As he does that, you open up the youtube app on your tv so you can watch all of your saved baking videos on the big screen.

You weren’t kidding when you told him you had hours of videos to go through. Baking videos are so soothing you watch a few when your mood needs a bit of sweetness and save the good ones for future projects.

Just as the playlist is cued up, Giyuu comes back into the room. He stares down at his phone, looking a bit stressed. Just as you are about to ask him why his face is so long, he shows you messages from the Teacher’s group chat.

The message from Tengen catches your eye.

Don’t forget to bring your flashiest of treats for tomorrow’s bake sale. 

Just remember that nothing you bring will be as flashy as my treats.

“Someone’s confident.” you laugh. “But it doesn’t matter what he brings because our’s will taste better,” wanna know why?”

He rolls his eyes jokingly, “Because it’s made with love?” he asks, going onto another tab.

“Nope, lots of sugar.” you chuckle, giving him a playful peck on the cheek.

“Some gym teacher I am,” he grins, glancing down at the screen again. “Oh, they sent out a list of treats people have already signed up to bring.”

“Can I see?” you ask as he holds out the list on his phone for you to read. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the brighter screen, but when they do, your brows furrow. Everything from brownies to Dango has been taken by more prepared parents and teachers.

There may not be a rule against it, but you would like to bring something different and eye-catching to the table.

 “What should we do?” he sighs, leaning against you, his sapphire blue eyes looking up at you tiredly.

“Don’t worry, we have hours of inspiration to look through,” you chirp, hoping to ease his worries just a bit. You know that if he doesn’t bring anything, the other teachers won’t let him forget it.

“I trust you,” he says as you press play on the first of many videos on your saved playlist where a cute old grandma makes little graham cracker tarts. 

“These are easy,” you explain. “The only thing that needs to be baked in the crust, and then you can fill the shells with whatever we want.”

“It looks easy,” he hums. How long would it take us to make it?

“Only an hour or so,” you reply, “let’s look at a few more videos just to be safe.

He nods thoughtfully before leaning onto you.

“Are you tired?” you ask softly, mesmerized by the way the black trendles of his hair seem to melt in between your fingers. 

“No, I’m just resting my eyes for a second,” he mumbles, leaning further into your touch. “Let’s watch a few more videos.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hum, not noticing that the little scalp massage makes his lids even more droopy. 

The auto-play feature is a dangerous thing. You watch video after video, listening to the soft sound of kitchen ambiance music, not realizing that hours have gone by. And Giyuu is fast asleep.

‘Maybe just one more video,’ you think to yourself, not recognizing the yawn that escapes your mouth. 

Giyuu’s presence next to you makes you feel so warm, so safe, so comfortable on this couch you wouldn’t mind sitting here and going through your whole playlist.

There are just so many things to choose from, 

Just So many Options

And Options

And Optio….

~

The sun peeks through the blinds, hitting your face at just the right angle to wake you up. Sitting up from your spot on the couch, you notice that your neck feels a bit stiff.

“Shit…” The words leave your mouth as you wipe a bit of drool from your chin.

Giyuu, still asleep next to you, shifts a bit when you jolt up, his arms instinctually trying to grab ahold of you and keep you close to him.

“Giyuu,” you say, shaking him lightly. “You gotta wake up for me.”

After a few more shakes than necessary, he blinks his eyes open sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“We fell asleep,” you say

His eyes shoot open, and he sits up even quicker than you did, dark hair flying everywhere; the blanket that was on top of him sinks to the floor, and he glances around the room. “The Bake sale is today; we didn’t make anything last night.”

“Again, we fell asleep,” you say, getting up from the couch to check the time. It’s only six o’clock, which means that you two have plenty of time to pull something together.

“Two hours may not be plenty of time, but it’ll do.”

“Do you still have that tart recipe?” he asks, pulling his hair back with a hairband. “If not, I can just grab some donuts from the convenience store and bring those.”

“Absolutely not.” you huff, crossing your arms. “We have plenty of time to make those tarts.”

He smiles softly and strides across the room, “You are so stubborn sometimes.” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I love that about you.”

He goes in for another kiss, but you stop him. “Uhuh, no more distractions until the dessert is made.”

He looks so sad, and you relent. “Okay, maybe one more.” you giggle 

~

It was a bit of a time crunch, but you made enough tarts to bring to the bake sale. You help him carry them into the school just as the other teachers are arriving.

You watch as Giyuu sets the platter on the table with pride. When it came to baking, he made sure to take on a majority of the tasks so you could get ready to go to work.

Good morning you two,” a loud and energetic voice calls. Turning around, Rengoku looks as bright-eyed and alert as ever as he greets you with a smile.

“Good Morning,” you say brightly, “It looks like the bake sale is going to be great.”

“Indeed, Those look very tasty,” Rengoku declares, poking his head over Giyuu’s shoulder and eyeing the treats with enthusiastic admiration before placing what looks like a loaf of banana bread right onto the table next to your display. “I’ll have to buy one for myself.”

“You would?” Giyuu asks softly, feeling proud that he has earned approval from such a nice colleague. 

“Certainly,” Rengoku says. “I think they will be the first treat to sell out today.”

“Indeed, they look very flashy.” Tengen declares, coming up behind you and setting his platter of suspiciously uniform-looking snack cakes down on the table's far side. If you didn’t know any better, you would think they were made by a Little woman named Debbie.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Tyler Galpin X Reader: Not a monster, just done monstrous things.

Summary: Tyler knows something if off and you are the only one he could trust. Because you're his friend or maybe... something more.

Warning: none this is pure fluff

There was something wrong with Tyler.

He didn't know when it had started but he knew something inside him had changed. Once this realization had made its way into his head strange things started occurring.

It began with the dreams. He’d find himself dreaming about the woods that surrounded the small town he’d grown up in. Unusual places he’d never gone to in his waking hours would flash into his mind during his shifts at the cafe. Then things escalated. He'd woken up in a cave, his body completely bare and covered in blood. He didn’t remember what he’d done but he knew it had been bad. He knew something was off but he didn’t know how to stop it.

You’ve been studying in Nevermore for over a year now and in that time you and Tyler had become friends. You’d often pop up at the cafe before class for a cup of coffee and a good morning from your favorite barista. Tyler would always greet you with a smile which you returned. Today however you found yourself worrying about him. You’d gotten there at your usual time and instead of finding him behind the counter you were greeted by one of the other workers. You’d asked about your friend and found out that he’d called yesterday night saying he wasn’t feeling well enough to go to work in the morning. You rushed out of the cafe before the poor girl behind the counter could ask for your order. 

You’d been to Tylers house before so you knew how to get there. You were sure you’d get an earful from principal Weems for missing your first class but you’d be willing to tolerate it if it meant making sure Tyler was alright. 

Once you’d gotten to the house you knocked on the front door and waited for someone to answer.

“Coming.”

Sheriff Donavan’s voice came from inside the house, followed by the sound of Tylers mumbled complaints which calmed your nerves slightly because it meant he was still well enough to bicker with his dad. You watched the door open and Sheriff Donavans head pop out from behind it.

“Well hello there.”

“Hi Mr Galpin.”

“Aren't you supposed to be at Nevermore?”

“Yeah but I heard Tyler wasn’t feeling too well and I wanted to check on him. Is it alright if I come in?”

Sheriff Donavan looked at you for a moment as if contemplating your question. The first time you’d come over the sheriff had been a bit uneasy at your arrival, the whole “school of freaks'' thing making him wonder if you were a good influence for his son but with time he became used to the idea of your friendship with Tyler.

“Alright, go on up. He’s in his room.”

“Thanks.”

You made your way to Tylers room fully expecting to find him laying in bed with the sheets up to his nose and surrounded by an amalgamation of used tissue paper littering his floor. Instead you’d found him bent over his desk scribbling away at a piece of paper like a mad man. You slowly approached the boy, bending over a bit to see what he was drawing. 

“That’s a bit gory.”

Tyler jumped up from his chair at the sound of your voice causing his shoulder to hit your nose.

“Holy crap!”

Your hand went up to cover your face, the sudden impact startling you.

“Oww Tyler, I think you broke my nose.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I went to the cafe and you weren’t there. Your coworker said you called in sick.”

You got a good look at Tyler. He didn't look sick at all, if anything he seemed a bit better then normal.

“You don’t look sick.”

“I’m not.”

“So you just wanted to ditch work for the day. Gosh Tyler seems like my bad nature is rubbing off on you.” 

Tyler’s face completely changed at your comment, his brows moving into a worried expression.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because there is nothing wrong with me!”

“So there is something wrong with me, is that what you think?”

You’d adapted a defensive behavior, Tyler had seen you doing before but never directed towards him. He didn’t consider you a freak so you’d never found yourself having to tell him off. Until now.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really? Because that sure as hell what you said.”

“I’m sorry. I just…I had a rough night.”

Tyler grabbed your hand into his own caressing it slightly as he spoke. Your eyes softened at the gesture, your gaze falling onto his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept well.You knew the feeling.

“Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t really know how to.” “How come?”

“Because I don't even really know what happened.”

You watched Tyler fiddle with his clothes nervously before his eyes went up to look at yours again.

“When you first transformed…could you…did you feel it? Like could you remember everything?”

“Not everything. I mean werewolves normally keep a state of consciousness when we transform but that's now how it works for everyone. There isn’t right or wrong with this kind of stuff. It just is how it is. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been having these dreams. More like flashes really. They come out of nowhere and I can't control them.”

“You could be having visions. Loads of different people have them. Sometimes seers start developing their powers through visions. Do you know of anyone who was an outcast in your family?”

“My mom went to Nevermore. Dad almost never talks about her but I found an old picture in one of his boxes. She was a student there but I have no clue what she was.”

“Maybe you got the gene from her. I could ask Principal Weems if you-”

“No!”

Tyler rose for where he was sitting abruptly.You started up at him.

“Sorry, I just don’t want anyone to know yet.”

“Okay then. But if you need anything I'm here for you.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler pulled you into a hug. You nuzzled into him, enjoying the way his smell surrounded you. 

“I have to go now but keep me posted okay?”

“Yeah I will. Thanks again.”

“Hey that's what friends are for.”

You’d made it back to school in time for your second lesson and to your surprise Principal Weems didn’t chew you out. She was far too busy with Nevermores' new student to notice you were gone. Thank goddess for that.

The following  weeks went by as usual. You'd go to the cafe and chat with Tyler before class and the two of you would hang out whenever you had free time. Tyler had found an interest in Wednesday Addams, the new girl, and even though it made you a bit jealous you never admit it to anyone. Things seemed to be going smoothly around Jericho until the attacks started becoming more predominant. Of course the normie sheriff believed Nevermore had something to do with it while the rest of the townies believed it to be a bear.

Tyler didn’t mention his visions to you again so you supposed they had stopped happening. The two of you had allied with Wednesday on her search for the creature causing all the killings which only seemed to cause more and more problems for both of you. Wednesday seemed to have a suspect but she refused to share it with the rest of you. You knew pushing her wouldn’t do anything so you just let it be.

You found yourself unable to sleep one night, a small gut feeling making you stay awake. You lay in your bed staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the uneasiness to go away. Then your phone started ringing. You picked up the device glancing at the screen. Tyler's name greeted you. You looked at the time. What the hell was Tyler calling you about at three in the morning?

“Tyler?”

“Sorry did I wake you?”

“No, I couldn't sleep. What’s up?”

“Can you leave the school?”

“I mean not officially but I have a secret escape route. Where would I be going?”

“The woods.”

Your stomach dropped at the sound of Tyler's voice. It didn't sound right to your ears, his goofy nature being replaced by a darker tone.

“You there?”

“Yeah I'm just…what's going on Tyler. The woods at 3 am. Considering there is some sort of monster around it doesn't seem very safe.”

“The monster won’t be a problem.”

“How do you know?”

“Please just come. I need you.”

Well how were you supposed to say no to him when he asked like that?

“Yeah okay i'm going.”

You walked through the woods, your eyes looking at your phone to make sure you were going in the right direction. Once the small icon on your map made it to the destination you put your phone away and looked around.

“Tyler you here?”

You heard some rustling in the leaves making your claws come out in a defensive manner. You turned abruptly towards the noise ready for combate.

“Wow! It’s just me.”

Your shoulders dropped at the sight of Tyler.

“You can’t do that Ty!”

“You scared of me?”

“No of course not but come on, it’s the middle of the woods and totally dark. I think I'm allowed to be a bit on edge.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“Yeah i-”

“I need you to know that. I need you to be one hundred percent sure that I would never harm you.”

“Okay… Tyler what’s up why are you acting like this?”

“I know who the monster is.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah I'm sure.”

“How come?”

“Because it’s me. I'm the monster.”

You wanted it to be a joke. A sick twisted joke but you knew Tyler wouldn’t do that. Not with something so serious. So that meant Tyler, your best friend, the guy you’d risk everything for, was a murderous monster. You didn’t know what to do. The correct thing was to turn him in but you couldn’t do that.

“Can you control it?”

“No. Not really. I’m consious when it happenes so I remember everything but I'm not in control. Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh Ty i could never hate you. It’s just you know it's a lot.”

You moved closer to Tyler pulling him into a hug. He didn’t hesitate to hold onto your body, his shoulders relaxing into your hold. He had hoped you wouldn’t judge him but there was a small part of him that had believed you’d scream and run once you’d found out. He was glad you didn’t.

“Don’t worry Ty. We’ll figure something out.”

You kept Tyler's secret for the rest of the week knowing that if the others found out they wouldn’t react as well as you. Tyler had assured you that if he started feeling a change coming he'd call you first thing.

Everything seemed to be in control.

And then Wednesday got Xavier locked up and ended up being expelled. The day she was supposed to leave you’d gotten a text from Tyler saying: “Something will happen tonight. Meet me in the woods.”. You followed his instructions, staying hidden behind one of the trees as he met Wednesday. In the middle of the interaction you noticed Tylers posture had become more rigid. You got up from your spot just as he looked your way. His features seemed to be split between two feelings: complete dread and unbearable excitement. The change was starting. You rushed over to where he was pushing Wednesday out of the way.

“Get out of here!”

“You knew.”

“Wednesday we can talk later, just go!”

You expected her to remain glued to her spot in defiance but instead she listened to your command, running to the school. You heard your name from behind you causing you to turn to where Tyler had been but he was no longer there. You moved your head up to look at the creature in front of you. You’d heard about Hydes before but seeing one up close was something else. They were gnarly looking alright.

“Tyler!”

You waved your arms trying to call its attention to you. It didn't work the Hyde was focused on his target. You watched as the monster turned to were Wednesday had ran to.

“No! Tyler over here!”

You couldn’t stop him, at least not in your human form. You took deep breaths, focusing your mind to make your change begin. When you opened your eyes again you were in your wolf form. You raced after the hyde jumping onto its back as you tried to make the creature turn back into Tyler. The hyde fought back furiously. It managed to grab you and throw you against a rock. You let a howl of pain at the impact making the creature stop moving. It turned to face you and when you looked up at it you were greeted by Tyler's eyes. You watched as Tyler forced himself back to his original form before rushing over to you. You switched into your human form as he approached you. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to but I couldn't stop it.”

You winced as you tried to sit up making Tyler look at you with guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re back now.”

“Here.”

Tyler handed you a jacket from his bag for you to cover up. A blush stained your cheeks when you realized how exposed the two of you were. You glanced up at Tyler, noticing his face was also slightly pinker than normal. Now was not the time to start behaving like a kid with a crush but you couldn’t help it. You’d always seen Tyler as more of a friend and you often thought that his relationship with you wasn't always as black and white as it seemed.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You made me change. I couldn’t have done that if it weren’t for you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

“I don’t have to wonder. I know why.”

Tyler moved his hand so that it was around your neck, forcing you to lean your head up to him. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“It’s because I like you, more than just a friend.”

Before you could even respond he had leaned down and kissed you. Never would you have imagined that this would be how your night would end. Kissing Tyler Galpin, the hyde, in the middle of the woods after battling against him for your life. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world could be burning and you wouldn’t care. You’d find a way to deal with Tylers situation together. Everything was going to be alright. For now you chose to focus on the feeling of his lips on yours. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Gaersnae

This one seems to be flying under the radar, identification-wise, much more than I expected, which is a pleasant surprise. I don't have anything else to add at the beginning of this post. The entry people are working from is here:

And if you don't know what this "bestiaryposting" business is, you can find an explanation and all previous posts at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

Now, art in roughly chronological order:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has made the entirely logical decision that the "king of crawling things" should be whichever creature has the most legs, and drawn us a millipede large enough to fight a weasel. I think this is a good and sensible direction, and that's a quality depiction of a millipede/weasel fight right there.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) has gone in a more rodent-y direction, with the interesting detail that, as a result of living in caves, its legs are gradually becoming vestigial. I think this is also quite clever, and the rat is pretty cute.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) decided that the "king of crawling things" should have no legs, as maximum crawling happens when one is flat on one's belly. Hence our crowned snake -- complete with a bird going down in flames near the top of the drawing, and a weasel/Hreksong invading the burrows near the bottom. I think the "crown" works really well, and it's always nice to see a callback to previous beasts. As usual, CheapSweets has provided an interesting and informative explanation of their design in the linked post -- I particularly liked the phrase "pelvic spur for extra rizz".

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) is running with the idea of a creature that kills with its scent (and has white stripes), so we have this amazing picture of a skunk zapping an owl out of the sky. The medieval skunk is excellent -- I think if they had skunks in medieval Europe, that's probably how they would have drawn them -- and the scribbly owl is just delightful. Check the linked post for additional observations and a link to a short but informative source about medieval owls.

@pomrania (link to post here) also has some skunk inspiration going on here, though their version has some extra legs and a kind of boar-like face. A very informative series of drawings about how this thing can kill you -- I particularly like the one with the little scroll reading "deadly!!"

@strixcattus (link to post here) has contributed an invertebrate, which I think makes this one of the only entries that's gotten more than one of those. And that's a solid drawing of an arthropod -- I also like the lettering at the bottom right there. As usual, I implore you to read the write-up in the linked post, where the animal is re-imagined from the perspective of a modern naturalist.

Okay, Aberdeen Bestiary:

So this is actually a case of the artist's preconceptions making them mess it up a bit. You may notice that it does not fit the description. It also sticks out a bit in the context of the bestiary, because it's in the "snake" section of the manuscript.

What's happened here is that this is the entry for the basilisk, but the artist has drawn a cockatrice. This is not actually unusual, as the two mythical beasts are hopelessly entangled in the tradition; I looked into it a bit, and it seems like there's actually some confusion about where the cockatrice even comes from. Probably the reason the two creatures have similar powers attributed to them is because the cockatrice kind of inherited that aspect from the basilisk.

(See, e.g., Breiner, Laurence A. "The Career of the Cockatrice." Isis, vol. 70, no. 1, 1979, pp. 30–47.)

Anyway, the basilisk is so called because it is the king of snakes -- basileus is Greek for "king", and -iskos is a diminutive. Little king.

(The translation provided by the University of Aberdeen, "king of crawling things," is unusual -- the Latin reads "rex serpentium". It's possible this translation choice is because of the flexibility of the term "serpent".)

This is a creature originally described by classical authors and then passed along through medieval European sources. It has white stripes, often some sort of "crown" on its head, is venomous, and is sometimes said to distinguish itself from other snakes by holding the front part of its body regally upright... yeah, it's obviously a cobra that's been telephoned and exaggerated into being ludicrously deadly. Just swap out "weasel" for "mongoose" -- I think that's pretty clearly a case of some author who distantly predated scientific taxonomy just going, "looks like a weasel to me".

Also, this entry ends with:

The creature called sibilus is the same as the regulus, or basilisk; for it kills with its hiss before it bites or burns.

I am not aware of any creature called sibilus.

[phospadparadscha]

Is fusing considered vaguely intimate in the AU? Harry having fused a bunch and Black Opal being Kim's first fusion kind of mirrors Ruby and Sapphire, and the idea that Kim gets a bit bashful or embarrassed about it in front of other people is kinda funny to me.

I'd like to think that because of the general lack of intimacy in Disco Elysium and Martinaise (people seem to almost never hug or kiss each other / engage in pda and the hug with the working class woman is treated as a very rare interaction), fusion can be intimate for some or at least somewhat taboo. Not necessarily frowned upon by the people of Martinaise but moreso uncomfortable and surprising. I guess it would be less that people are surprised that there's a fusion and more that anybody likes another person in Martinaise or Revachol enough to want to fuse out of anything but utilitarian purposes. All of Martinaise is touch starved and its pretty unusual for that to be proven wrong by anyone. Fusion is definitely frowned upon by the Moralintern and generally by the RCM as a complex, but is still done nonetheless (within C Wing however fusion is less frowned upon). The RCM is based on a partner system after all. Its bound to be that the partners fuse for combat or even recreationally but in the police they are expected to unfuse after their mission is accomplished. I think of how the RCM officers are so limited in their firearms and ammunition and I think fusion is treated like a weapon that needs to be monitored and controlled. Permafusions are incredibly uncommon, though they are more common amongst communist circles and the underground (as a commie pansexual myself I think I speak from the heart). More of my ideas and reasoning under the read more!

I think Harry and Jean could have experimented before with fusing on their good days. Or alternatively, they could have rushed to fuse in a stressful situation or to apprehend a suspect. However, its risky to do so because when a fusion poofs, all gems that make up a fusion poof at the same time. Its seen as a last resort on the field.

It's possible that Jean could have fused with Harry when he poofed, since Harry's RCM cloak has some bullet holes implying he was shot / poofed before in the line of duty, to draw him forcibly out of his gem after unfusing. Like in the Change Your Mind finale of the show where to reform the crystal gems quickly Steven fuses with their gems, and they reform after they unfuse. In Harry's case forcing him out of his gem before he's ready to reform could be what contributed to his damaged psyche and unhealthy view towards fusing, as gems need to recuperate while poofed which is why it takes them so long to reform. The less time a gem takes to reform the more unstable their form and abilities are and Harry would definitely have experienced the consequences of never taking care of himself when he's down since Jean or someone else would force him right back into the ring again.

I think that Jean and Harry's fusion would be a fairly volatile and negative being, prone to humorless self deprecation. A bit like Smoky Quartz is prone to self deprecating jokes in Steven Universe, but here its genuinely toxic. Their fusion usually brings out the worst of them both. I don't think they're Malachite levels of unstable and toxic, but that their morbid humor and combined depression can have poor results. However its not all negative with them as when Jean and Harry are able to synchronize enough to maintain their fusion, the brotherly camaraderie is able to shine through and they cheer each other on with more confidence. I'm not sure how different the fusion would be before and after Harry's retrograde amnesia, but I have some general ideas I'll share at a later time.

I definitely think Kim would be most likely to unfuse first with Harry, less because he doesn't enjoy fusion (he really, really does), but more so that he is more anxious to be caught by surprise or to stand out, which is kind of what fusions do lol. In Martinaise people may not care so much as its a place largely abandoned by any kind of real repercussions, but he still has a reputation he cares about more than Harry does. And Harry has a somewhat unhealthy view of fusion, where its something that is becoming a better person than he thinks he is and disappearing into another person, rather than a mutual dance or union of partners. So this leads to Kim being hesitant to fuse with Harry unless he is able to convince him that their fusion isn't an excuse to disappear into a better half but to instead become someone that represents the joy they both share with each other, as equals.

And yes, Kim is bashful to be a fusion and it is his first time fusing. He may have wanted to fuse with Eyes in the past but never did and regrets not fusing. He thinks its crazy that anyone would ever want to fuse with him. But over time Harry and Kim fuse more often and it starts to represent their love for each other.

[sadruru]

Suddenly inspired by one artwork where one artist's commander is depicted on different mythic path. It made me want to draw some of them too! Each choice will affect Melissa differently, both externally and internally.

Maybe some of you have thought of something like that too. I think it's really cool!

WARNING!!! That's a lot of letters ~ Because I can and I will I LOVE making long posts with lots of text. A-HA-HA!!!

Trickster: "No matter what I do, my life is a f*cking comedy for humans, gods, demons… And you know what? I don't give a sh*t about you motherf*ckers! / You watch Melissa go into hysterics. The insane laughter makes your blood run cold. She even seems to be dancing to music she can only hear in her head. / No one else will have power over me, not even the gods! From now on, I will write my own happy ending! Now let us play by my rules. I am the queen in this godd*mn theater, and you will be my jesters!!"

The True path. The alignment remains the same, Chaotic-Neutral. More madness and fun. Melissa certainly wouldn't give up the ability to interfere even with the universe if it were possible. The only outward difference is the occasional appearance of a strange mask on her face. At times like that, you never know what to expect from this tiefling. I had a hell of a hard time drawing that mask, but it turned out great. Just the way I wanted it to turn out.

Angel: "/ Melissa's eyes look down in confusion. You can hear the shaky notes of confusion in her voice. She is unusually silent. The weight of responsibility now rests on her shoulders. / I thought this was going to be an amusing joke. Tiefling's more like an angel, and she's got stupid wings! Sounds mad, doesn't it? My skin and hair… Do I really look like a human now? It's wild…. It's so weird to feel so many hopeful looks on me. I don't even know what to say…"

The alignment changed to Neutral. And from this point on, some of her views on life would have to be reevaluated, which was extremely discouraging. Melissa will become much more serious and calm, less 24/7 style jokes. More adequacy. Her skin will lighten and her hair will take on its usual human brown hue as will her eyes. The appearance of wings, of course, and a semblance of a warm glow from behind, like the aasimar's. She didn't choose this path because there was no point in bringing righteousness and law to a world that was already rotten. Easier to destroy everything… Isn't it?

Azata: "Okay, wait… What the?! Butterfly wings?! Plants on my head?! I look like a pink princess, only without the dress!" / Melissa looks extremely annoyed. No matter how hard she tried to pluck the flowers, they grew on her head again and again, covering her horns with fragrant roses. Slowly she begins to relax, realizing that it's no use. / Damn it!.. Okay, okay. I think I liked that. A little bit... Maybe bringing 'kindness' and 'freedom' isn't as stupid as I thought… Don't dare laugh!"

Chaotic-Good By the end of the game, Melissa becomes softer and kinder. But she's not thrilled with the sudden external changes anyway. You know, flowers and butterflies. The reason for her rejection of this path is simple. She doesn't believe in all that nonsense about friendship, loyalty, kindness and so on. Didn't grow up in that kind of environment. ...Azata - it's not necessarily blue colors. I just want red 🗿 No Desna. Just Cayden Cailean and Calistria!

Demon: "/ Her burning eyes reflected real rage and bloodlust. It was as if primordial chaos in all its horrifying splendor came into view. The thirst for destruction that had haunted her all her life had taken on new colors, and she was ready to carry it with renewed vigor. The girl's voice was no longer human, but rather frighteningly demonic. / I want to break someone's spine, fracture their skull, gut their insides... How ironic. All my life I've been called many things: monster, beast, demon. And now... Now I'm exactly what you thought I was. I hope you're all happy."

REALL Chaotic- Evil The saddest path for Melissa, in my opinion. Especially for a tiefling, considering they often do bad things under societal pressure. Absolute hatred for anything and everything. The appearance would be demonic.

The closest thing to her was the Demon path. Sure, it was very tempting to gain destructive power and take revenge on everyone who had hurt her, but that would be too easy. Deep down, Melissa really didn't want anything like that. If you got to know her better, you'd realize that she's not as bad as she seems at first glance.

P.S.: Yes, she has a big scar on her neck. There will definitely be pages later on about how she got it. It has to do with her death and sudden resurrection.

[minecraftbookshelf]

Religion in the Empires: Fae Squad Edition

General disclaimer that, for the most part, the religions in the empires are not analogous to Christianity at all, beyond the general inevitable flavors that come from both the ccs and myself originating in culturally Christian environments.

The exception to this is a little bit the Rivendell siblings, as the way that was set up in canon and grown in the fandom does lend itself to some very Christianity-oriented looks at religion and religious trauma and, at least to an extent, that will be playing out. It will not be a major theme in anything most likely, but it’s there.

And reminder that the modern western approach to religion is historically unusual.

Katherine:

As Guardian of the Overgrown who is able to communicate with the Spring, Katherine culturally functions as a sort of priestess/conduit for Nature. Its actually a similar role to the one Pix holds in Pixandria in some ways, while being distinct because the Spring is less of a god in a pantheon (like the goddess of death that Pix is connected to) and is instead The Overgrown itself.

House Blossom is only one of the Fae Courts but all of them are more animistic than their more mortally-aligned neighbors.

Smajor:

The reform method of dealing with religious trauma. Is genuinely very religious on a personal level and so is kind of the default royal for presiding at religious events that Xornoth is technically ineligible for (elaborated on below)

On a more general level, Aeor’s church is one of Scott’s favorite places. It was the one place he could hide from his parents during the worst years and even the priests generally didn’t bother him there. When he’s mad at Xornoth it’s where he goes because he knows he won’t be followed. So aside from any religious aspects the church building is a Safe Space for him.

That being said does have some deep-running trauma from the fundamentalist practices and ideals that ruled during his parent’s reign and his childhood.

Xornoth:

“I will face god and walk backwards into hell.” Has a literal god living in their head and refuses to do what any god wants ever. Especially the one in their head.

Their relationship with Aeor is extremely complicated, mostly because they (Xornoth and Aeor) are in a weird sort of stasis where they can’t be openly hostile to each other because that would make Exor happy and Scott sad, which they’ve sort of reluctantly concluded are both things neither of them want to happen, to varying degrees. Xornoth avoids Aeor’s church, Aeor leaves Scott alone and continues to bless Rivendell with the usual level of protection and prosperity and they sort of continue through life ignoring each other.

Xornoth was officially labeled as a blasphemer by the high priest of Aeor under their parents’ rule, technically that was never rescinded but the current high priest doesn’t enforce or draw attention to it. (The main reason it hasn’t been rescinded is equal parts it is technically theologically accurate and Xornoth finds it funny/is very proud of it)

Shrub Berry:

As an inter-dimensional refugee they spent some time existing in a sort of religious limbo. The gnomes were very much about casual worship of the local patrons and she doesn’t know who protects the Undergrove for quite some time. Meeting the Mother Wolf is a huge relief for her, though the close connection that the Mother Wolf initiated was a bit of a shock.

-

Ocean Alliance

Wither Rose Alliance

[eyerealm]

What's your process with picking colors for an art piece? :0 your color choice is super unique

Thank you for the compliment and question

That definitely is a hard question, because a lot of things in my art is purely intuitive

I think i tend to try to make things look like theyre "glowing"

(I think i picked this up from splatoon)..

I generally pair duller or darker colors with very bright saturated ones for this sort of effect. I also enjoy things being very rainbowy, and i just pick whichever colors my brain wants me to (I think it works faster than i can comprehend). I know a  lot of things in my art dont make sense, but i want them to not make sense, at least in my more abstract art

But if i were to analyse it, ill try to explain..

Heres my most recent piece...

I was struggling with picking the colors a bit in the earlier stages of this drawing...

I thought of two options, both had some tone curve + effect on the layer with it that i then erased to leave the parts that would be lit up

The layers with her clothes details was higher than the tone curve layer so they stayed clear and bright. I was leaning to the second option but it felt too dull and green for my liking..

I merged most layers and just went with it, adding more sarurated colors

I usually do this, i dont want to keep too many layers seperate because it gets too complicated and it feels like i cant completely express myself. Merging it all/most of it makes it feel more free and i reccomend doing this at least sometimes..

Here you can see a little close up of her face with some explanation... I  i dont really know if this is helpful but still

Heres a little explanation for why i picked the colors for celestia like this

I also often want to show characters in an unusual way color wise. It makes drawing them more interesting. The colors a character is typically associated with doesnt define them, they can be any colors, duller or brighter, different hues etc. Thats what i often think of when i draw, and its fun to play around with. splatoon is a very good thing to draw for me because of this, since they constantly change their ink color..

I do play around with filters and tone curves and stuff a lot sometimes. Selecting specific things in a drawing and only applying filters to them, or to the whole picture, or using blending modes on brushes. It all helps me with getting to the final picture

But it almost always gets merged with the rest of the layers and the picture continues to develop with it all in one

I wish i knew how to properly put it all into words but i myself sometimes dont understand my process, i mostly do things because it just feels right, and everything is subjective, how do i explain what feels right to me, right.. i dont even know if any of this made sense. But well, art doesnt have to make sense