#doing a lot of the heavylifting

[jessaerys]

although conclave 2024 is the superior film i do think it has fundamentally the same issue as wolf man 2025, which is that instead of building a solid skeleton for the emotional conflict of the story and using that as a roadmap to write a figure-flattering shroud of dialogue over it, they just leave it at that, and you have incredibly dumb moments where the characters are like "you are like this because of your abusive father. and now you are re-enacting that trauma on your daughter" or "we want the catholic church to be a force of good not evil" and it's like leaving your storytelling skeleton bucknaked, which is not only lazy but offensive to the audience. why won't movies let me use my damn brain!! i can put two and two together you know !!!

[otterlycurly]

Ok y’all i give up.. please explain the appeal of CaitVi to me like,, what do they have in common and how do they compliment each other? Please explain it to me like i’m a 4 year old who asked what gay is and you’re tradcath ultraconservative parents trying to explain how heterosexuality is the only correct path in the eyes of god only in this scenario heterosexuality is caitvi and gay is acab. Like is League Caitvi more cohesive bc i feel like Arcane left a LOT of character work out of writing and relied on fan interpretation

[merqtioooo]

a rough little ifá redesign !!

i love him deeply, however, with the way that he's based on a yoruba god (again) and a cowboy, i wanted to lean into both a little more (and make the colors feel a little less platypus-like iykwim). so i did it!

i think his design is genuinely solid, so i didn't change that much, like, at all, i just embellished it a little.

design notes under the cut <3

normal style:

we'll start small: i loc'd his hair!! very easy way to keep the shape language of straight hair without compromizing a character's visual blackness. even though i don't like the 'dark skin, light hair trope', ifá's design motifs rely pretty heavily on visual contrast, so i decided to just keep his hair the same color.

i removed most of the embellishments on his hat, since i think it needlessly complicates the top half of his design and draws attention away from the fact that its a cowboy hat, which is, of course, the important part. plus, the buttons and the stitching reminded me too much of a voodoo doll, and with the addition of the bones in his nightsoul state, it kind of muddied the actual influences of his design.

i also kept his neck tattoo, since it was fun and worked with some of the patterns i introduced in his design, and i also made his skin less gray to work better with his colors

speaking of colors, i did actually lessen the contrast between the white, teal and orange by unifying the palette, allowing for it to be a little easier on the eyes and a little more warm toned in a way that makes him feel more grounded in genshin's fantasy environments, especially with the modern feeling of the nametag and the style of the clothes.

with his top half, i wanted to add a little more visual intrigue, since all of the complexity of his design felt imbalanced toward his hat, rather than the center of his body. the easiest way to do this was to draw on the african cowboy aesthetic and add a tie and beads to his shirt and jacket combo. the opele chain that his constellation is named after is actually based on the method of divination that the worship of ifá entails, since he's the god of destiny, and so i wanted to give him a little more of that influence, since in his constellation it seems to refer to the string of his hat, which i removed.

on his tie, you can see ankara patterns, which is a direct callback to his yoruba basis, along with turquoise and burnt orange beads which are also yoruba. in addition, i kept the nametag, since it was doing a lot of heavylifting fro denoting him as a medical professional, but i moved the feathers to his hat, and made them cacucu's feather's specifically. i also changed his primary color from the teal to orange to add to the less futuristic feel and to cut the 'a platypus???'-ness.

i also changed the metal accents to be bronze, since bronze is a commonly occuring precious metal in nigeria, and kept the cross motif. i added some pouches to his belt to make his outfit feel more like something he would work in, without over-complicating his silhoutte.

when it comes to his pants, i kept them jawns the same, idk mannn. if it ain't broke don't fix it. i did change the colors to warmer ones and changed the blue to a charcoal gray situation to keep the colors harmonized.

his boots, though?? i changed those a little. they just weren't cowboy enough for me, plus there was a chance to add a couple more instances of yoruba patterns to his design. i just flipped the tops up, added spurs and some stitching down the sides, and that was it.

in putting changing his main color, i also swapped the colors for the inside of his coat, and added ankara patterns on the orange part to match his tie.

nightsoul state

upon realizing that both he and chasca (and i assume the other vision-holding members of the flowerfeather clan) have skeleton motifs in their nightsoul state, i knew i couldn't take it out entirely. since chasca's is more subtle, i just kept the ribs from the original nightsoul design and added lil' vertibrae to his tie.

i also aded ankara patterns to his sleeves as well, and highlighted the scars on his arm.

when it comes to his face, i wanted to incorporate actual yoruba face paint, and since he already has markings under his eyes in the original, i wanted to keep that too (especially since the other option was above his eyebrows which doesn't make sense since you can't see it under his hat and hair).

additionally, i put ankara patterns along the band of his hat, and highlighted cacucu's feathers, since i thought they were an important part of his new design.

on his boots, followed the lines of stitching. i also added little embellishments on the metal accents, just for fun.

closing statements

first, this was fun as fuck. second, to anybody who wants to represent a culture in a fantasy way like this? don't do what genshin did with natlan. don't take the name of our gods and give it to white ass blorbo bleebus who isn't even associated with us in any way. don't take the names of sacred items and just give them to any old thing. do your research. consult real people. be respectful. if you want somewhere to start, @creatingblackcharacters is my favorite resource for all things black character designs. read through all the lessons, i promise you it'll change the way you think about character design forever.

[guesswhojusttt]

peace, peace, my love (Aizawa/reader)

Summary:

aizawa is not a good person, but he can try to be. you are not a person at all, but you can pretend to be.

(to those who wish they were a little easier to love)

Read on AO3

In which Aizawa adopts a cat. (You are that cat.)

It's never a bad time to bring a grown man to his knees.

Your nose twitches, smelling the petrichor before it happens. Big fat drops splash onto dry, grey pavement, spreading like stains on a shirt, like ink in a pond, and wet cat fur takes forever to dry, so you dart to the nearest shelter (the word shelter doing a whole lot of heavylifting here).

You huddle beneath a coarse bush, make a home of its sharp brambles and drooping boxwood leaves, the edges eaten away by crawling caterpillars or tiny ants or Japanese beetles. Your claws pick idly at the loose dirt, with its dead leaves and snapped twigs, its sharp rocks and wriggling worms that have made this damp earth their home. It would be so much easier, wouldn't it, to be a worm? You do not have to scavenge and hunt and fight for food- you can simply nibble at the nearest shred of vegetation. If it is cold, you need not seek shelter, merely crawl into the nearest pile of filth. What luxury it would be, wet mud your bed, soft grass your blanket, and all manner of greenery as your feast. No one to adopt you, coax you into a false sense of security, only to replace you and toss you out once they find someone better, someone who gives them everything you never could no matter how had you tried, no matter how you forced yourself to mold and change into anything, anything they desired, but it was not enough, because you were not enough, even when you had warped yourself into a form you did not recognize, metamorphosing yourself at their beck and call-

But, though you feel like one, though you may certainly be treated as one, you are not a worm. So you gather your limbs beneath you and tuck your head below the bush, chin resting on a patch of pillowy leaves, and watch the shoes of the people as they pass. An expensive pair of Nike's or Jordan's or whatever type of shoes high school boys obsessed over these days, pencil-thin, hot pink stilettos all tall and elegant and just a step closer to permanently disfiguring the woman's poor heels, chafed black boots that are well-worn (well-loved, your favorite type of shoes- and thus the type of people who wear them- are those that have clearly seen better days, were once shiny and polished and brand new, but have since been broken in, lost color and shine but are still worn year after year- loyalty, you think, to keep them around instead of replace them. Or maybe this man's just poor and can't afford a new pair, but… you like to think, well. Wouldn't it be nice to be a pair of shoes, kept around year after year, regardless of how you lose whatever was first appealing about you- never tossed out, never abandoned or replaced?)

What kind of life is it, if you spend your days dreaming of a worm's life, fantasizing about being a torn pair of old shoes?

You gaze out from your comfortable perch- this bush is yours, if nothing else is- and you may be parched, you may be starving, you may feel fur and fibers clinging to your ribcage till it caves in, concave chest and nothing else between your skin and bones except the thinnest most breakable layer of tissue- but at least here, you're safe from the oncoming rain. A cute pair of cats all snowy-white and speckled and spackled in cheerful orange dart past, and a little girl tugs on her mama's skirt and eagerly points at them, bouncing on her feet in her dusty-pink ballerina slippers until the mom sighs fondly, reaches into her purse, pours out a water bottle the cats eagerly lap up, nuzzling into the little girl's legs as she giggles and squeals in delight.

Well, of course (you think bitterly), everyone loves a cute kitten. You sigh and burrow your face deeper into your arms, tail flicking irritably. Why are they out so late anyway? Shouldn't the kid be asleep by now? Way past her bedtime.

The familiar pair of scuffed snow boots walks past your bush- this pair of shoes is always home well after most people are, must work a late shift, poor guy- but with your tail still agitating, it rustles the marcescent, withering leaves just a bit, just a touch, almost imperceptibility- you're never one to make much noise, why draw attention to yourself, why incite what'll only hurt you- yet the boots stop short, because of course they do. Of course he has superhuman, doglike hearing, because you truthfully weren't making much noise at all.

(You never do, anymore.

[You know better, now])

The tall figure stoops down, and if he has any regard for how dumb and silly and frankly pathetic he looks, grown-ass man bent in half, hair nearly brushing the dirt as he tries to get on your level- well. This sort of man seems to have no regard for anything, if that lackadaisical, languid, lethargic demeanor is anything to go by. He blinks at you- slowly, slowly now- and you blink lazily back.

He leaves.

Can't say you're surprised. He'd probably thought there was a cute fluffy kitten cloistered in the bushes, had wanted to take sympathy on it and feed it and maybe even pet it a little, but the moment he took a good look at you- matted fur and missing ear and mucusy eyes- he'd regretted having stooped down to inspect the bush to begin with. Well, of course he did. Wouldn't want to risk rabies or ticks or whatever else might be hitchhiking in your hair. You almost can't blame him.

Almost. For such a little thing, you really are full of more hatred than your small body knows what to do with.

You idly bat at a sprouting crabgrass weed, displacing a black ant that had been edging up its stem, when the thick, peeling boots come back, and with them, the foreign, exotic, salivating mouth-watering gourmet heavenly scent of-

Tuna.

No, not the stubby little can with cold watery shreds, but ahi tuna steak. Easily a fat inch thick, juicy and tender and comes-apart-in-your-mouth meat.

Oh. He must've seen the cute twin cats earlier and his old little heart must've softened and he must've wanted to why is he crouching down at your bush again? Are they behind you? No, would've heard. Your one ear hears better than two, really. But, no, neither your eyes nor your ear lie to you- he really is offering you this blue-ribbon tuna steak.

He digs his long index finger into it, peels off a morsel, and plops it down on the cracked curb before you. You're no idiot and make no move to take it. He backs up- five feet, ten feet- and only when he is no longer within grabbing distance do you pounce on it, snatching it up in your jaw and scurrying back to hide in the bush before he can blink.

You down it so quickly you choke. Not even a second to savor the rare, precious, once-in-a-lifetime flavor. You'd squandered your chance to delight in its taste and you'll never again-

He's offering another scrap. backing away- one arm's length, two arm's lengths-

You seize it and dash back into hiding and gobble it up and-

You continue this little song and dance till you've eaten the steak whole.

The next day, you do not perk up when he comes by, nor do you spend your full day awaiting his return. Because you are better than that, and you know better than that, and you know it was a fluke. A one-off encounter, because either he'd been drunk (though your sharp nose had not detected any traces of alcohol) or sentimental (his no nonsense manner does not strike you as the sentimental sort), and you weren't gullible enough, naive enough, foolish enough to really think he'd come by for you again.

And your shoulders do not relax when he sits at the park bench, stretching his long legs out, sighing off the weight of his day. The mini-playground, consisting solely of a small, faded red slide and an airplane spring rider, sits in wood chips which conveniently double as a big old litter box. A grey tabby- one you'd benignly dubbed Thief- scuttles over to the man's boots, its tail winding round his leg affectionately. He droops his large hand down, lets Thief sniff it, scent it, lick it.

You tamp down your envy. You expected this, and you can't be mad about things you knew would happen, right? That's like being mad at the weather for raining after you'd already checked the forecast and chose not to bring an umbrella.

Thief paws up the man's leg to settle on his lap, reveling in the scritches behind his ear and under his chin, leaning into the man's large, warm body.

You shiver under your bush, suppress an aggressive hiss (the time for fighting is long since over, for you. As far as you were concerned, Thief could have him, goodbye and good riddance), and curl your limbs closer, ever closer, around yourself.

It's going to be a long night.

Best you go to sleep now.

Night after night, when the moon is high in the sky or when the sun is just beginning to crawl up from the horizon, he comes back. Night after night, you are still on the waitlist for every homeless shelter within a 50-mile vicinity, and go back and forth between cat and person as if it makes a difference at all.

It would be nice to believe he was looking for you, but really he is just here to play with whatever stray cat is out. So you hide while he feeds fat, big, strong Garfield, and you bristle, because he snatches up any scrap you find before you can even smell it, batting at you and hissing at you or even scratching at you even if you were in the middle of eating something- if he spots food, it's his, doesn't matter whose mouth its currently in- he can and will and does snatch food right from between your jaws, still spit-slick and half-gnawed.

Even the big black cat- almost-panther-like, in size and appearance, but not as strong, or if he was as strong before, he's had it long since beaten out of him. He lopes over with a fluid agility that promise once I was something great, but now, with gunky black stains trickling from the corners of his great big eyes in permanent tear tracks, flinching, just like you, at the slightest sound, jumping, just like you, at the first sign of a motion just a hair too fast, conceding, just like you, to any cat half his size or strength the moment it wanted to steal his food right out from under him.

Yeah. Weak and a little pathetic, just like you. You get him. He's your favorite. You look out for each other, the both of you. All that really boils down to is that he doesn't steal your food and you don't steal his, and if he seeks shelter under your bush, you let him, and if you trail after him, he lets you.

It is the closest thing you have tasted to love. To friendship.

(It is not enough.)

But maybe that is because you are greedy, all-consuming, always wanting more than the little slivers and scraps they toss you. One day someone will extend an itsy bitsy droplet of kindness and you will think this solitary drop is enough to sate years and years of parched mouth and dry tongue, others you go from night to day without a single interaction and back again, and the starvation is back, like it never left, like its only compounded exponentially, worse and worse every day you go without a single moment of affection and-

And the last and only time you've been touched in a way meant not to harm is-

Is-

Is years ago, in that shelter's end of the year catch-and-release program. They grabbed you, vaccinated you against ringworms and parasites, and subsequently released you back into the wild as if you could survive out here.

Well, you're fine. You're all good out here. Just peachy.

The sky breaks open. It's happening less and less, and this worries you. Rain used to be common. Snow used to be common. Now, you're lucky to see even a smattering of snow, it's an unmitigated miracle if there's baker's sugar powdering the streets. Gone are the days of snowballs and snow forts and snowmen, lamenting long-gone snow days where children get to stay home from school and snow so high it drowned the park benches in its crests and dips. The rain is good, yes, in the sense that there'll be plentiful water to lap up when it douses the clefts of the cement, the fissures of the sidewalks, but immediately it only means that this bush isn't enough, the dappled leaves a contented for the water to seep through and soak the dirt at your feet. you scurry to the tall trash cans only to find a family of cats has already made it their home, using the plush, overflowing trash bags- thin and black and shimmery as drips slip down and coat them- as bedding, as shelter from the storm. The pitter-patter of the rain gushes into a torrent, and you dash to the overhang above the doors to the apartment buildings but of course, of course, both Thief and Garfield are already there, albeit on opposite ends since both are too competitive to really get along. Your precious bush is colonized by a drove of rabbits that in any other time or situation would know better than to come here, of all places, where bigger cats like Sushi and Fushi would eat them alive. Stupid, ugly, disease-ridden, tapeworm-carrying, flea-infested furbags, they thump their hind legs and lunge and you really, really don't have the energy to deal with them.

You can weather bad weather. You certainly have before- you are capable of it, more than capable. On one hand, you could probably slip through a train station and take it as your bed for the night, on the other, the last time you did that, someone reported you, so. Cat form it is.

Sure, the life expectancy for stray cats is about a fourth of house cats, but you've adjusted better than most. You're not weak, like the rest of them.

Even if… even if you weren't born into being a stray like some of them are. Even if, once, you'd actually been gullible enough to believe…

But there was no use worshiping that family in your mind. They never appreciated it once anyway.

The man comes back (late, as always), his eyes alighting on you as if he'd been searching for you. As if worried about you. as if. He takes a step towards you. You take three back. He crouches low, makes himself smaller, less intimidating.

He is not any less intimidating than a lion that rears back before it strikes.

You do not want his help. Not because you do not need it- you are not arrogant, nor are you so foolish so as to believe you, or anyone else, is entirely self-sufficient- not even because you do not want it (who would not welcome a warm, dry shelter from the thrashing storm lashing the trees themselves in all their height and grandeur?)- but rather, because you cannot have it.

Not permanently.

Last time you'd actually fallen for it-

So no. You have no interest in letting him warm you and dry you and take care of you only to abandon you the moment the rain stops. What is the point of love if not everlasting? What is the point of letting him give you just a sliver, just a finite taste, of what warmth could be like only to toss you back out like garbage?

No. You will huddle under this tree even as the rain slips through the leaves and douses you. He's getting soaked, too, but those heroic types are always willing to sacrifice small comforts for the greater good. You leap to the lowest hanging branch when he makes to approach you, dig your claws into rough bark, buried in the little crevices and cracks along the wood, skittering and scrambling up the tree to get away from him like a cat possessed. Take the hint, you want to growl, I don't want you. I'm not fine on my own but I'm still better off than I would be with anyone else.

He misinterprets your distaste for fear (it isn't, but of course he is the arrogant sort), and carefully lopes over to the base of the tree, craning his neck up to look at you, blinking the rain out of his bloodshot eyes. He raises one long arm to shield his stubbly face from the onslaught of rain, other hand weaving two long fingers into his stretchy grey scarf- grey, like the overcast sky, grey, like the sheets of rain separating you and him as a thick and much-welcome curtain. He takes another step closer, jaw set as if intending to scale the tree and rescue you, so you arch your back and hiss and do everything a cat does to say go away and leave me alone, but all he does is cock his head in sympathy, making a cooing noise that is so condescending and infantalizing that you'd all but gouge his eyes out were you not set on keeping him as far away as possible, scrabbling up to the next branch, ever higher, the torrent of icy water stabbing through your fur coat and right into your skin, again and again, cold sharp needles battering away at you- the leaves do not protect you at all, the tree swaying in the wind and bending and bowing to the harsh winds. When he realizes that no amount of pspsspsssting is going to bribe you to abandon your safe harbor, he squares his shoulders and straightens his slouch and tightens his grip on his loose grey scarf, tugging at it, winding it-

Then shakes his head, as if thinking better of it.

Instead, he offers his hand. Palm up. Crooks one long finger in a come hither motion.

You snort. Does he really think this would work?

He digs around in his trouser's pocket. Pulls out his phone. Your heat jackrabbits- is he trying to send you to a shelter? Not again not again- you're ready to leap off the tree and take your chances to outrace him, but-

Cats. Yowling. He's pulled up a Play this to attract your cat and make it meow back (works instantly!) video, and … he looks up at you so hopefully, so expectantly, that you almost feel a little bad for the sopping wet cat of a man before you. Almost want to throw him a bone. Rain ricochets off his moisture-wicking raincoat, douses his mop of black hair, stringy strands falling into his face (weathered, less so with age than with weariness). He fishes in his oversized pockets again, replacing his phone with a…

Carton?

CATMILK: TREAT FOR CATS & KITTENS, a cartoon of a bright orange cat heartily licking a milk mustache off its upper lip.

Does he… carry around a carton of milk for cats? Just in case? [1]

Does this man not have hobbies outside of following stray cats like some sort of stalker? [2]

He makes those soft kissy sounds that you know he thinks attract cats but really just make him look like a silly old man.

He's certainly tall enough, long-limbed enough, that if he really wanted to, he could just scale the tree and seize you himself, so it's beyond you why he's going to such bizarre, near-comedic lengths to lure you down. His pants are plastered to his legs by now, the rain sticking his clothes to his skin and isn't he cold, even in those thick boots and even with the turtleneck peeking out beneath his coat- it is the sort of wetness where it not possible to get any wetter, a drowned rat in a gutter. (You've seen and eaten enough of them to know.)

Put this poor idiot out of his misery, you huff, give him what he wants and then he'll leave you alone. As you always are. As you always should be.

You rear back on your haunches, slowly, slowly, and his eyes widen so earnestly that he must be a child seeing Santa is real, spreading his arms wide to catch you.

Well, fine.

Placate him and he'll go away soon enough.

You leap off the tree, claws out, head first, the branch left trembling from your jump off it, and he does not startle, does not react- you think dully, this must be a man who is used to catching people, to adjusting to unpredicted weights, permanently prepared. He draws his inky rain coat open, letting his sweater get rain-splattered in the process, tucking you into his jacket and bundling you close and tight before speed-walking to his home, kicking up sprays of water and splashing up perfectly good puddles in his haste to get home.

No.

To get you home.

He treks up the stairs, water-sodden boots squelching with every step, strong arm keeping you tucked closer than you think is strictly necessary, and you hold your breath and remind yourself the other shoe will have to drop.

He will release you back into the wild. It's what they always do. He's accomplished his heroic endeavor of getting you out of the cold wet rain, and as soon as the storm ceases, he'll be done with his task and done with you and honestly, honestly, you pray it stops raining right this second so you can leave. Before you learn his name or his mannerisms or what his phone-

His phone, blaring the generic, cheerfully chirping ringtone he apparently never bothered to change- he's pulling it out and you avert your gaze, not wanting to know his lockscreen, his phone case, how new and shiny and expensive it is or isn't. You tuck your small head further into his thick, dense jacket, an action he mistakes for affectionate nuzzling when really it's to cotton your ears with the fabric so you don't hear his conversation- or so that it's at least muffled. Don't want to know the low cadence of his voice, don't want to learn the slow, steady way he speaks as he sighs, "I'm not- no, Hizashi you are always pulling some- you can survive one night without me. Yes you can. Yes you can. Well if you die that's a you problem. To say I would laugh at your funeral is to imply I'd bother showing up to begin with. Mm-hm. I'm just busy right now. Yes it's more important than you, but that's not a very high bar. It's not really canceling plans because I never wanted to go anyway. No I don't. No I don't. You and Nemuri need adult supervision? Can't argue with that. I'm tired. I want to sleep. We'll go out for drinks- sooner if you have a say in it, later if I can avoid it. I said I want to sleep. Good night. I'm hanging up now. Yes I am. Yes I-"

And he really does hang up. Huh.

What a shame, too. The more time he spends talking to his friend the less time he'll spend bothering you, so it would've been in your best interest if he'd kept the conversation going just a little longer.

It's better when that sonorous, canorous timber isn't directed at you. When you can't feel it resonating from his chest into yours, can't feel his lungs steadily expanding into all of you, all of you, consumed by all of him. His rain-slicked coat may have been all rubbery and wet on the outside, but on the inside, where he had stowed you away? A fuzzy, dense fleece lining blanketed you on one side, his cable-knit wool sweater blanketing you on the other. All droopy and roomy, the shapeless collar sagged so low that your little head nestled right against his cool, smooth collarbone. The more your soggy fur presses into his sweater, the more he stinks of wet wool and wet cat and wet mud, but he only chuckles fondly.

"You stopped thrashing when i was on the phone. Does my talking help calm you down?"

No, no, no, no you do not need to hear more of that all-encompassing, steady-as-a-mountain voice. You squirm and convulse in a bid to pry yourself out of the cotton cocoon he has entrapped you in, but all that does is confirm his theory that he needs to soothe you.

Like some child.

Like some pet.

But you are not his pet. You are just a stray, that he happened to stumble across once or twice, and he had nothing better to do (he canceled plans with his best friends to stay here with you), and the moment he's done he'll toss you out and it'll be better, be safer, not to get attached to something you'll lose before you even have it.

It's not worth it, the way a cut takes only a second to stab into you but takes weeks, takes months, takes years, takes forever takes eternity takes infinity to heal and even then, even then, it leaves a scar behind to mar you; you can't risk that, not again, not again, not again-

He grunts, one large hand still cupping your head as the other fishes for his keys, jingle-jangling against each other as he unlocks the apartment door, kicking off his waterlogged boots, elbowing the door shut and flicking the light switch on. Warm, orange light bathes his apartment in a dreamy glow- the sleek wood paneling leading to a shaggy carpet, the overcrowded desk shoved to one corner, the stuffed-full bookshelf against the white wall- all so toasty and cozy and promising, awash the hazy orange glow.

Keeping a firm arm around his chest to cradle you close, as if scared you'll slip away the second he loses hold of you, he hushes and soothes you through every action he takes: his keys clink when he plucks them down onto his kitchen counter, shedding his rain coat, shaking off the water the way a cat shakes water off its fur and hanging it on the hook at the door. For just a moment, he pauses, back slumped against the wall as if his legs can no longer carry the weight of him- sighing, running a hand over his face, the quiet, irregular drip-drip-drips of his hair and clothes puddling at his feet- composing himself. Catching his breath. His heartbeat thrums slowly into yours- steady, steady, steady.

The man hooks a thumb through his thick grey socks, peeling them off, toes over to a long, pillowy, yellow sleeping bag, and eases you in.

A sleeping bag…?

Oh, shoot. You'd been taken in by a poor man. He'll shake stale Cheerios from a tattered box for you and call it dinner.

Well.

It would still be a kindness, and you would be grateful for it just the same.

You shuffle, kneading into the plush, well-used, well-loved fabric-

No, no, no. See, this is exactly what you were hoping to avoid. Now you know things about him. Things like- he has kept this sleeping bag around for a while, he has not replaced it, he has tossed it into the washer hundreds of times and it has lost its color and whatever deluxe softness it once held, whatever sleek shiny shades it had on the outside, and yet he has kept it, he has not thrown it out in the same way he has not replaced that scuffed pair of boots, he has used them both till it's molded to the contours of his body, and look, his phone's not new either, not at all, he does not throw things out on a whim, doesn't just abandon- he keeps, he keeps, long after the object is outdated and expired and obsolete, and there is no good in knowing any of this at all, because all this does is inflate a bubble of false hope, that you too could be a constant, something to keep around like a worn-out pair of well-trodden shoes-

You close your eyes. It is the only way to stop observing things.

Again, the man does not understand you. He doesn't- he doesn't get it. Doesn't get you. Delighted, babbling like a fool in love, "aw, you gettin' comfy, kitty? All cozied up? Good, make yourself at home. Oh, I know, you were just so cold and scared outside, huh? Brave girl. Such a brave girl. Trust me, you don't have to be scared, anymore. Wanna get a little warmer? Yeah? Of course I'll turn on the heat, just for you. Such a sweet little kitten."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

The dull rumble of the gas kicks on, heat seeping into the apartment like a nice hot shower after a snowy day, cradling you in its warmth till staying awake and sober is an active effort. The ambiance does not flood, but trickles into, your ears: feet shuffling along cool floor, fridge pops open, rustling, fridge snaps shut, tap water gushes, tap water off, glass clinks on the counter, cabinet opens, soft rattling, cabinet closes- the quiet, cyclic sounds of his pitter-pattering about the kitchen could've damn near soothed you to sleep, a homespun, home-baked, homemade lullaby of just- of just- someone going about their day. Someone going about the meniality of life, the same humdrum of a routine smoothed and honed and rounded the way a river sands down a stone till it's a comforting weight in your palms… when was the last time you had a place to sleep with no shouting, no crying no clanging no yelling no slamming-?

Okay, fine.

Just for tonight. You'll sleep here, just for tonight, just to weather the storm, just to dry off, and in the morning when he opens the door to go to work, you'll slip out when he does, and part ways as unlikely friends. [3]

Which unfortunately means, no matter how hungry you are, you can't take his proffered gifts. Normally you have no problem accepting help- you need food, and would never pass up a free chance to eat without neither cats nor people competing and drawing blood for each and every bite- but to eat now is- well-

It's the basic Greek laws of xenia, yeah? Same for the Islamic hospitality rules. If you have a guest, you feed them; if you are a guest, you eat and be merry and thank your gracious host. To do otherwise is to say I am not your guest; I am merely a traveler, passing through; I will not sit at your table, I will not drink your wine: I will not sleep under your roof and bid you a good night, and you will not wish me safe travels and thank me for brightening your day.

We are strangers. Let us remain so.

So when you hear the sharp snap of a metal can, when the salty tang of sardines permeates the air, when he places it reverently at your feet like a worshipper, you do not grant it so much as a cursory sniff.

"Some cats don't like seafood, right? Or is it that you don't like wet food?" He scuffles off only to come back with a bowl full of cat kibble and oh God this is not a cat bowl this is a human bowl. The man is using his own dishes to feed you. Come to think of it, that was just a normal can of packed sardines, not a can of cat food. Is he just feeding you whatever he has in his own pantry? No, the dry food for sure smells like bonafide cat food. Still. His own bowl. His own food.

Oh, well, now the reason you're eating isn't just to reject hospitality and show him you're not one to keep around, it's because he's this poor broke sorry man who's sacrificing his own meals to feed you. Poor thing, going hungry for a sorry stray. To accept his kindness would be a cruelty. It's okay, you would tell him, if you didn't have the basic social decorum that says if you turn back into a human now he'll freak out because no Quirk justifies tricking someone into providing you with food and shelter and warmth.

Because no matter how much you had fought tooth and nail to keep him from bringing you in, no matter how much he'd been the one to insist, it still felt like you'd… manipulated him. Coerced him, somehow. But there was no room for guilt: you become a cat specifically because… well. People are… kinder, to cats. Still cruel, still overlook them, still do not save them or take care of them or adopt them or love them, but no one is going to call the cops on a famished, bedraggled, ugly cat the way they would on a famished, bedraggled, ugly woman. A homeless person is a threat. A homeless animal is a tragedy.

So you give thanks for your Quirk because at least, as a cat, your stomach is smaller, your needs lesser, and no one's going to think you're some scary, smelly drug addict who needs to be reported for disturbing the peace (sleeping on a park bench).

You nudge the can back to him and hope it conveys, I'll just scavenge for mice and birds outside, so don't you worry about me! You'd leave out the part that normally the moment you get your grubby little paws on a scrap, every other cat within a 50-mile radius can somehow smell it and pounces so viciously that you're left without even the bite you'd held between your teeth. Still, go mix it with mayo, shred some lettuce, wrap it up in some tortilla, you skrunkly old man. Judging by the broken red capillaries all over the whites of your weary eyes, you need this boost more than I do.

But he does not understand you, just as you do not understand him, not even a little bit, not even at all (why is this penniless old man giving up the last of his food to feed a bony old cat, you wonder, and do not know that he is neither penniless nor that old and has a whole stockpile of catfood and cans and bags and pouches specifically on the luck occasion that he comes across a cat, you do not know that being an underground hero and a teacher at the most prestigious school in the county means his pockets are lined with far more than lint and cobwebs, you do not know, you do not know-)

Just as he does not know you. He clicks his tongue, "picky girl, huh? Princess wants to be spoiled? Want a Fancy Feast Classic Pate ™? Want a Churu Puree Lickable Treat™? Come here," and he does that fake-groan thing humans do where it's not a grunt of actual effort but they exaggerate it like it is, scooping you back up into his arms- doesn't he care that wet cat is getting all over his perfectly good nice sweater?- and you squirm viciously, struggle and writhe, but all he does is bring you to the open pantry, holding you up to eyelevel with a dizzying, colorful array of options.

Oh, bless his heart. This man's a cat mom with no cat.

Well, this explains everything.

Big brand names and wand toys and bags- not just of kibble but of litter, a scoop, a cat bed- why does this man stockpile like it's going to be a damn apocalypse. An apocalypse where specifically cats are in danger, because you know damn well he doesn't have this much in the fridge.

You dig your claws into his arm and use the split second of distraction to leap out his arms, bound over to the fridge, because you've gotta know. you can just tell he's the sort to come home at midnight, open the fridge to nothing but leftover take out (from a restaurant he didn't even want to go to but was dragged along), sniff the sticky rice, decide it's maybe decent and probably won't give him food poisoning, and eat without bothering to heat it up in the microwave.

"Refined taste? Sorry, sweet little kitty, I don't have much to offer you in the ways of human food." He pops the sleek black fridge door open, and-

And-

Oh, you were so right it sort of hurt a little.

One- because you are so set on not knowing this man, (the more you know the more you get attached is how it works you see), but damn if he isn't easier to read than a picture book with big bold neat letters.

Two- because this sorry excuse of a man was just much in need of help as you. If anything, having you around might encourage him to buy himself some food, as it had already pushed him to turn on the heat (would he had just let the apartment stay cold if it wasn't for you being here?), to go to bed at a reasonable time and to come home earlier to take care of you.

You could do him some good, you think, but that is an arrogant thought, and a condescending one to boot, so you squash it down along with the worse, rotten, traitorous he could do me some good. You give a disdainful sniff to the low fridge shelf, carrying the impressive feat of no less than half a bottle of soy sauce and a yellowing onion and a dented, open can of sparkling water that you just know had gone stale and should've been tossed out weeks ago and-

You've been here too long. Getting too comfortable with each other. What are you doing, sniffing up his fridge? Fuck's sake!

Piss him off.

You scale the pantry with its veritable cornucopia of feline delights, and it is not hard to send everything toppling over like a collapsing tower, to wreak havoc and destruction upon his frankly creepy shrine, because otherwise- and you can hear it so clearly, an impartial, detached observer spectating the actors as they take their stances upon a stage when you've already memorized the script right to the bitter, yet crudely obvious end:

"I'd love to adopt you, but I'm so busy with work; I just wouldn't have the time to give you the attention you deserve: I'm barely home as it is." And it would be true, because you always see those scuffed boots trudge home when the moon is bright, or even when the dawn has first begun to break. It wouldn't be a half-baked lie or a flimsy excuse.

(It wouldn't make it hurt any less.)

"You have a very special place in my heart, and you always will, but I'm just not in a place in my life where I can adopt a pet."

"Why is she in a room by herself? She got behavioral problems or somethin'? I'm not interested in an aggressive animal."

"It's just that I already have all the cats I need and besides what if you don't get along with them?"

"I'll still visit you. Of course I will."

(She did not).

"I wish I could, but my mom's allergic-"

"She won't let me pick her up."

"What's wrong with her face?"

"My dorm doesn't allow-"

"Not very friendly, is she?"

"I'm looking for a lapcat, but this one's been cowering and hiding in the corner like I'll kill her-"

"Can you introduce me to a better-?"

"Way too shy-"

"I'm sure she'll find her forever home, but I'd prefer a-"

"No, really, what's with her face?"

"She bit me!"

"We'll find you your person eventually," the shelter worker would promise (lie), every time, "I'd even adopt you myself, but-"

Whatever. People don't owe loyalty to strays; only to the housepets waiting for them at home, the ones they keep around for years and years till one of them dies and then they grieve carry a piece of their pet with them forever because they love them, they love them, and people can certainly be nice to strays like you, and feel sorry for you, and wish they could find a home for you, and then walk right past. They do not love them (you), they are no more loyal to them than to a trampled weed. Yes, they might see it once upon an idle stroll, might peer at it closely on their way home, but that is the start and end of the relationship.

It would… save you both a great deal of time and trouble to just nip it in the bud.

Yet even as the metal cans clatter to the ground and your claws rip into a paper bag of kibble, waterfalling onto the yellowed kitchen tiles you realize, as you exert every manner to make him turn you out sooner rather than later- so you can only feel a smug, I-knew-it-all-along satisfaction, rather than a hollow I thought this time was different pang- that the stockpile of food is assorted in the sense that- that- with a marked difference in expiration dates and brands and states of being, old and new alike, that he must've-

You can see it now. Every time he goes grocery shopping, indulging his curiosity, making a harmless little impulse purchase, flitting into the pet food aisle, perusing the shelves and grabbing one or two things just in case, for the somedays and what ifs and hopefullys, and repeating this ritual every single time he ever goes to a store until they build up into whatever the hell it is he's got going on here. You had sat in your bush a thousand times over, had watched him follow strays in his free time (so you know what he is doing is not out of kindness nor the goodness of his heart, he just has nothing better to do with his life. Probably works a miserable job with shitty hours and shittier pay and this is the only part of his day that gives his life any real meaning, makes him feel like he's useful), watched from the safety of your foliage as he extends an arm out to offer up packets of pate and cans of carp, sprawled on the park bench, rubbing the heel of his palms into his bloodshot eyes and sighing, long and heavy and aching, days- nights- when your nose tingled with the tang of blood, and what kind of job is this, that leaves him bloodied and scratched up and dented like an old beaten-up car?

So you understand that taking care of strays is just his passion project, and yes, yes, you can understand that. Respect it, even. Appreciate it the way a parishioner appreciates a bite of sacrament.

Just…

You need so much more than one bite.

(I know love does not come easy.)

You don't want to be someone's charity case, yeah? It's a little embarrassing. At the same time-

You do not have that sense of pride everyone else seems to, the sort that makes them say we're not taking free food and I'd rather work three jobs than accept handouts and I want not your pity but your respect. Can't relate. You would love to pitied. If someone felt sorry for you, that means they acknowledge bad things have happened to you. If they smother you with sickly sympathy, at least it means they know you've had a pitiable life. And your desire for dignity is so much lesser than your desire for someone to just- to just get it.

But no one fucking gets it.

(Oh, there must be someone who hears me.)

Because no one else is in your position. Oh, everyone else has a partner, if no partner, then a friend group, if not a friend group, then a best friend, if not a best friend, then a loving family, if not a loving family, then someone, somewhere, who understands them a little, who loves them a little-

But you do not have anyone to couch surf with, to 'can I crash at your place till I get back on my feet?', a special sting of misery when shelter workers, when every intake worker asks if you have any family or loved ones you can stay with, because they have limited beds and every homeless shelter is underfunded because don't you know money should go to bombs, because war keeps our country safe so you can starve in peace; a special stab of humiliation, that there is a not single person you can put down as your emergency contact, it is just a big blank line staring back at you, the dash of N/A where you're to put a phone number taunts you like a playground bully and- and it's-

At least a cat can be cute.

This man, kind as he may try to be- he doesn't get it either, can't get it, because he has friends that were waiting for him. Who want to met up for drinks with him. He does not need you, because already he has people who love him, and people he is protective of, and he is in the business of taking care of strays, not taking in strays.

And what is more violent than being taken care of but not being taken in? If he keeps you safe tonight, but is rid of you in the morning, then…

What could be worse?

Painfully patient long fingers pluck up every item that clattered to the floor and ease it back into the shelf. Get a broom too short for his tall form, sweeping up the kitty kibble like it was no bother at all,

He closes the cabinet. He sighs, and there it is, he is disappointed in you he hates you you've upset him he'll finally toss you out and you won't have to spend another excruciating minute choking down his vile, suffocating, poisonous kindness-

"So!" He claps his hands together. "Your palate is simply too sophisticated that neither my own food nor the cat food satiates it, but I can't just not feed you. Let me check again, m'sure I can throw something together."

He pries the white Styrofoam takeout container from his fridge, muttering "guess I should thank Hizashi for forcing me to try that conbini stand."

Mackerel. You do not even like seafood unless it is salmon or tuna. (You have learned that the food at a cat shelter is generally safer than food at a homeless shelter). But this poor man is trying so hard to help you, to take care of you, and even if it is to stroke his own fragile ego, it would just be cruel to reject him, at this point.

So you bend your head and you eat it and you try not to look at him when he smiles as if you are a kindly fairy who has granted him everything he didn't know to wish for.

He just… sits there. Crouching, hunching, staring. Well. Perhaps staring is the wrong word- staring (glaring gawking leering glowering) is what they do to you when you're sleeping on the train and you stink of sweat and vomit and piss and your prone form is taking up three seats, staring (watching waiting waiting waiting) is what you do when you've found a particularly good dumpster and you can't decide if it's safer to approach it as a cat (and risk bigger cats fighting you for every scrap of food) or as a human (and we all know what happens to a woman walking alone at night), staring (studying observing poring over) is what you do when you get your greedy little hands on a book, soak it up word by word and page by page and throw yourself into it, headfirst, submerged in the feel of ink and paper and thoroughly immersed that everything else just disappears-

Yes. That's the type of staring he's doing now: poring over you. Like everything else doesn't matter because finally, finally, he's fed you. Doesn't touch you. Doesn't even try. Just goes to the bathroom, door clicking shut, water running, brush-brush-brushing his teeth and just… leaves you to eat. In peace. Gives you your space.

You can almost hear him say: if my heart was a house, you're right at home.

Home.

It's enough to make you want to vomit all over his carpeting just to make him kick you out, but-

You're not about to give up the only food in your stomach for spite.

That, and…

You can't stay in your cat form forever. It's like laying down too long or sitting too long, your body can't just- can't just stay in this 'mode'. It's a mode to turn on and off, not keep running forever, like a laptop never shutting down till it overheats. And you will. Overheat. But he could come back out any minute, and- he'll think you're a burglar and he'll call the cops on you or worse he'll just kill you himself and no one would ever know, it's not just that they wouldn't care or wouldn't miss you there just genuinely wouldn't be anyone who would even know-

His footsteps, when he comes back, are enough for your shoulders to jump. Footsteps and knocking are about the scariest sounds out there. But he just flicks off the lights. Peels back his blanket- soft, well-worn, why is it that everything he has, he's owned for years, why is nothing here new, why are you the sole intrusion upon an ancient sanctum, does that means he really is the loyal type like you judged when you first saw those stupid boots?- he eases himself into it with a soft groan, pats a spot next to him to tuck you in for the night. You blink at him, attempting to convey as much disdain and dislike and distaste as physically possible-

But again, he does not understand you. He slow-blinks back, and he must think he is reciprocating love, as a cat's languid blink would normally mean a sign of affection.

He keeps misinterpreting you- giving you the benefit of the doubt, assuming your every rude, insensitive, petulant action is so much better than it is, that you're so much better than you actually are.

Nor do you pretend to understand him, either, and while he tries to see the best in you, you force yourself to seek out only the worst in him-

Yet despite every miscommunication and misconstrusion-

He finds a way to make it work. So he keeps the corner of the blanket peeled back, waiting just for you, even as you slink away to the window, hopping up on the sill, stretching your back and marveling how, for once, you did not have to be careful of your movements. You would not startle anyone around you, nor would anyone startle you, either. You do not have to be careful of how your jaw stretches as you yawn- no one will interpret at as a threat, because this man does not see you as anything more than a pathetic little charity case. (You suppose he's not wrong). You can outstretch your arms all along his cool windowsill, and he will not be mad at you for making too much noise and can you keep it down some of us are trying to sleep here. For once you are on the other side of the windowpane, the rain battering the glass practically a world away— though you can hear the pellets pound the pane, though you can feel the icy chill of the water seep into the glass, it does not seep into you, because the heat he turned on has settled quite comfortably into your boenes- for once, no one is hurting you, for once, just for now, you are safe.

You are safe.

Oh, yes, you know, you know- he'll let you go soon enough. Just as soon as those storm clouds wither up and dry.

Outwardly, you'd hissed and squirmed and clawed every step of the way.

Inwardly, you hope the rainy season stays forever.

[invertedfate]

Hiya. I've been wondering which programs you use to create Inverted Fate's OST, and what you'd recommend for a beginner in composing? I think you've mentioned both before but it's also been a while. Thanks. ^^

I use FL Studio 12, and I use a lot of soundfonts to do most of the heavylifting. Realeight is a pretty decent guitar VST, and Guitar Rig is a solid amp, but I'm sure there are other options, like the ultimate guitar kit soundfont. It's hard to say how beginner friendly it is, since I had some musical background beforehand, but there should be a lot of tutorials, at least!

[tmgefan]

Love your art <3! Do you have any tips to share with us? You’re a big inspiration so I’ll take what I can get lol. Have a great day ❤️

Thank you! It means a lot to me that I may be someone's inspiration.

As for the tips I find it hard to come up with something out of my mind (i usually provide tips with specific topic) so this post will be quite random

How I learn muscle anatomy when Im bored (or when nothing is drawing out properly

Here's a file for a random study with some heavylifter that i was turning brim into. I never got to actually draw it and i still dunno if i ever will, but his musculature will help me make a couple of points

When i start a study drawing the first thing i do is finding the spine of the person (taking that i am making a study of a character ofc) sometimes it doesnt matter much, but as an exercise to see through something its a good thing.

*Vsauce voice* But what if... You have no idea how to see through something?

In this situation when even I can struggle I decide to make a fast set up with a model (here I used web version of Magic Poser, there's also an app)

You set the model to the pose from the ref as close as you can and then try to understand how their spine works. Honestly, in general if you even already have a ref, sometimes its good to make a model set up for it to get multiple angles and full understanding of shapes. Even better if you have models irl, but those quite expensive. Add. info - I started college this year and its my first ever year to sculpt with clay and i found out that if you try to sculpt anatomy YOU immediately get a better understanding of where what should be after a couple of tries to make an arm or maybe a face (shocker). Its another great exercise. Anyway

The next thing i'd do is to make a kind of a stickman model over the photo, to get a better understanding of simpe shapes like the tubes for arms

Dont get scared because i skipped a lot. but Its really not that much. What I like to do is to trace the silhoutte of the character and then provide myself with references for muscle, so after that i can also look at the photo and try to make pathways of the muscle tissue over what is already drawn. Tracing like this helps a lot to understand how musles work. At this point you can also stop and maybe move on some other study.

I also recommend using brushes that react to pressure you apply to the stylus both in shape and transparensy. Take any picture with pronounced muscle and just try to make out every shape you see and seperate them from each other.

also dont ever underestimate drawing when you're bored on paper. Just drawing your own hand sometimes will help you understand a lot about the way how skin works, or how muscle tense, etc.

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Friendship with Benefits is Magic!!

18 sat on the couch amused as she sipped her coffee, watching the scene happening across from her. Sitting the sofa opposite from her were a pair of local Satan City girls she’d become well acquainted with known by their names Dash and AJ, the latter often called Rainbow due to her eye catching skittle coloured hair hairstyle which was among her most eyecatching qualities especially when compared to her more Southern Belle sounding companion. Whereas Dash was a tanned, toned athletic tomboy, AJ was a thicc,powerful brick house woman mountain. Standing close to 7 foot plus yet having the kind of qualities and curves that not only made it clear she was a woman, but a damn fine hot piece of ass of one at that. Dash was a freelance jack of all trades athlete who especially excelled at the kind of events that called for speed and agility while AJ did a lot of heavylifting and manual labour working and helping out at her family's apple farm. Now if you were to ask 18, she could swear you'd think these 2 were possibly lovers or pending to be because the sexual tension between them was clearly so obvious. She could feel it even as she looked on with bemusement at how the tomboy and farm girl glared at each other trying to lazerburn holes through one another's skulls. Putting her coffee cup down on the table as she caught their attention, a sly grin on her face. "Just remind me, what exactly are you two arguing about?” She enquired, intrigued to wonder what brought them her way this fine day.

Dash simply huffed and pouted,crossing her arms under her toned perky tits as AJ cleared her throat a bit, a little miffed herself as she began to speak with that distinct drawl of hers. It was such a sensual and distinct voice in its own particular way. “Well a certain somebody,I won’t name names…” the suntanned freckled blonde quipped,rolling her eyes as did Dash because of course they knew who she was referring to. But god forbid they get into another argument rather than not get to the point. “…..said that she could do better than me at satisfying a guy and out last me and him and still have enough energy to run a marathon, if you can believe thst kind of hogwash…” it was clear AJ most certainly did not, that was for sure. 18 amused as she caught Dash giving the farm girl a dirty glare. Oh if looks could kill, as the skittles haired tomboy retorted. AJ rolling her eyes no doubt expecting some words while 18 relished the comedy gold like the cheeky minx she was.

“Puh-lease, it’s so obvious when you think about it. Sure farm girl and me can handle win lose or draw at any games or sports,I can handle that. But when it comes to sex? I could not only handle the biggest stud BUT make empty him out and still be the last girl standing.” She sounded so damn confident, everything about her radiated it with absolute certainty. To such AJ responded by giving her the most deadpan look imaginable, much to 18’s constant amusement. Seeing that the tomboy and farm girl were looking set to have another verbal spar, 18 cleared her throat as she got their attention. Drinking her coffee down to the last drop as she placed her cup down with a sense of finality as the deadly beauty made sure they were focused on her, she grinned a mysterious smile that those who knew her meant she was most certaimly,absolutely up to no good what so ever. She had an idea, an awful idea, a wonderful idea. An awfully wonderful, wonderfully awful idea and oh what perfect timing, here was her husband just coming back in from his recent shift at the department. The blonde feeling her spine tingle, god how hot he looked in that uniform and his arrival could only be such a case of right man,at the right place and the right time.

“Well ladies it seems to me there is only one real way to settle this debate of yours.” 18 spoke with a cool,calm manner as Dash and AJ looked at her,curious and puzzled as to what she had in mind. Krillin none the wiser as he hummed and whistled a little tune before she reached out and gently but firmly grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him close to her. Her hubby looking so adorable with that confused, puzzled expression on his face as she resumed her quip. "And my man here will be the perfect judge for you..." A sensual tease to her tone as she reached down with her free hand to grab and squeeze his junk, making him clench his teeth and widen his eyes, while AJ and Dash blushed, clearly catching onto what 18 was implying. Krillin of course recovered from his bout of shock and confusion to give his cyborg wife the most look imaginable. To which 18 simply purred snd grinned as she kissed the side of his face, a side glance shot to Dash and AJ as she undid her man’s buckle and fly, the sound of the zipper keeping their attention before their eyes soon beheld the exposed sight of Krillin’s length and girth. Faces blushing as they clenched and rubbed their thighs together while seeing that cock begin to stir and rise. Stiffening to a point that it seemed like he could hammer nails into wood, nevermind what it would do to their mouths and their pussies. That’s when 18 knew she had them hook, line and sinker.

The floor of the chestnut family’s living room was soon littered with the scattered clothing of the 3 women and one very lucky little man, as 18 hugged her husband from behind, grinning as she kissed along his neck and shoulders. His moans music to her ears as she locked Icey blue eyes on Dash and AJ, naked the day they were born as they knelt on the ground, eyes glowing with lust. Competing for dominance as they assaulted her short king’s cock with licks and kisses. At times even making out with the tip between them as their tongues soaked his length and girth with saliva, not even leaving his balls untouched. But oh their attempts to outdo one another at seeing how much of so his shaft they could take was delicious, it was no surprise this being their first time with him they couldn’t deepthroat right off the bat. But seeing them try was such a turn on, especially their shock and surprise whenever he’d buck his hips out of reflex. At some point it got into the pair’s heads thst their competition became blurred between trying to see who could outlast the other to whether or not they could make her man blow his load just from oral. 18 would usually charge most other women quite the fee when it came to her Krillin but what was about to happen to these two was just as sweet as money. And how sweet it is!!

Indeed Aj and Dash struggled as they were determined outdo one another in performing fellation for this prime price if fuckmeat the cyborg deadly beauty had so generously provided to be their judge. Assaulting it with licks and kisses as they sought to suck and blow on it. Often kissing and making out with each other by chance, which only added to the opinions of some that the two had some deep primal lust for each other and seeing one another be lewd like this. Their thoughts on pause as Krillin reached out with his hands to smack and massage their asses, their bubble butts jiggling before they found their slits being probed, thighs becoming soaked with their arousal as the shirt king showed he wasn’t just very well hung but also quite good with his hands. Feeling their pulses race as pleasure flowed their veins,spines tingling with pleasure as their brains tapped into those deep seated dormant primal portions. Feeling less like horny women and more like sexual bitches in heat courting this virile alpha male into mating with them to breed them with delicious, potent seed.

AJ wasn’t sure when or how they had suddenly changed up positions but she wasn’t complaining that was for sure. As Krillin laid in the smooth wooden floor of the living room as she,fittingly enough,rode him cowgirl style. Her dark sun kissed tanned amazonian body glistening with sweat that smelt quite like sweet apple juice as she plunged her herself on his cock. Hearts flowing in her eyes,tits bouncing and bubble butt jiggling as Dash sat across from her,the dark skinned skittles coloured haired tomboy rode his face, feeling his tongue penetrate her as he ate her out. 18 looking in with little to no shame as she played width herself squeezing a tit in one hand as the other squeeze and juggled a tit. Biting her lip sensually as she saw the farm girl and tomboy push their lips together, making out like the horny lesbisexuals they were as her man brought them to greater heights of pleasure to help them settle their debate. Changing uo positions or tandems of one on two or one on kne whenever he would cum as they couldn’t keep count or track of their orgasms due to his prowesss.

such was the case as Dash found herself taking it doggy style from the Warrior Monk,the shirt king jackhammering and pistoning into her snatch as she herself was eating out Aj,taking her cider flavoured nectar mixed with the overflowing excess jizz from his earlier load deposit. The farm girl’s mane of blonde hair flowing as she grasped Dash’s hair,keeping her pressed against her pussy as she leaned in to kiss and make out with Krillin. If one were to look closely,they’d see glowing link hearts of the eyes of the pair. Indicating his overwhelming skill was enslaving them to him, a fact 18 was more than familiar with as her ego felt practically orgasmic. Nothing was more delicious than seeing sexy bitches become addicted to her man. Licking her lips as she saw Dash shudder and moan, Krillin groaning as he came inside, moaning into Aj’s liplock as the single came to once again change it up.

Naturallt what followed was the veritable montage of pornographic delight as the trio would shift between one on one to two on one in sequence to any and every instance of the compact stud blowing his load. His virlity snd prowess proven by the fact his cock had yet to go limp or soft in the slightest since the first time he came. 18 of course adding herself to the mix to slice thing up or have a little lesbian intimacy with whoever wasn’t occupied with her shirt king for one on one action. Such as right now as she made out with Dash,the skittle haired tomboy and her dancing and massaging their tongues together nn some sloppy tonsil hockey. Jiggling and massaging her t perky titties in her hands as Dash fingered herself,feeling her oussy gush with a flow of her nectar and excess of krillin’s seed. All the while the short king had AJ in a mating press, the Amazon an farm girl howling with ecstasy as he jackhammered her oussy with the primal virility snd ferocity of a caveman as they enacted the ancient dance of man and woman,driven to make this muscular work of art of a woman pregnant. Lips,locked together as he had her powerful legs pushed back and his Balls smacked her netherlips’ outer rim, making her juices splash. Stomach bulging from his length and girth as her womb desired to have another generous helping of his white hot cream.

Cream which 18 helped herself to a she and Aj laid side by side,performing a 69 on one another as the lapped up a mixed snatch cocktail of pussy juice and the compact stud’s seed. While dash was pushed and pressed up against a wall, arms and legs draped around the vertically challenged sex machine’s Herculean body as he pumped and thrust into her with the same drive and desire to mate and breed. Her face an expression of raw ahegao, drooling and grinning lewdly as she and AJ practically radiated an aura of pink glowing hearts. By this point the duo had forgotten why they had been arguing or what they were debating and competing about. All thst mattered here and then, right now was having this sex god in the bidy of a compact macho man cutie knock them up and ruin them for other men. But 18 knew for certain the real winner was herself and of course man. Ankther lair of fine ass bitches sowed with wild oats as more chestnut buns found their ways into some very warm, wecolinf ovens.

18 of course would need to remember to thank videl for babysitting maron for the day. Giving them all the time she needed to set uo and arranger having her latest hobby targets picked out. When opportunity came knocking for a chance to have her indulge in her persomal kink,she always seized it by the balls. As she laid atop her husband with Aj and Dash spinning either side of him,she had a feeling their little girl would be happy to know she’d have another brother or sister on the way. If this session didn’t yield results with these two being knocked up? Well just another excuse to have them come over, right?

[dojae-huh]

Game caterers

Seems like lots of agencies did this show. SM's turn now.

Ep 1, Ep2, Ep3

Part 1

One thing many people are not good at is combining assorted moments and facts into one picture. It is easy to see with fans who know their bias has such and such character traits or demonstrated this and that, and yet forgetting about it in an instant and believing a new contradicting piece of behaviour.

Case in point: shy Doyoung. Yes, he is a shy introvert in general, however, he is very much capable of acting boldly when it is required of him. He was the trainee who came close to the SM judges during weekly evaluations of trainees for them to hear him better, he is the neo who films sasaengs and he was the one who didn't flinch in the fruit throwing game on James Gordon's show. And yet, every time Doyoung purposefuly plays a super shy and hesitant person for variety, fans believe his charade.

2:28 - Case in point. Two idols had already danced, so it would have been a repetition to enter the same way. Do opted for a usual act for variety hosts of being slightly incompetent in a cute way (forgot the dance, was super awkward with collegues, covered his face with his jacket).

Aside from Do doing everything over the top, you can tell how fake he was by his confident relaxed posture during Seulgi's dance (3:19).

Btw, I don't know her variety skills, but her doing the best dance after SM rookies (who also played it shy as Korean idols often do) and a lame hoobae was also a good choice. She looked even brighter after Do.

3:23 - Do's glee conductor's ass can't even not point out to Seulgi the correct chair to sit. As if she doesn't know and it's not self-evident. It's just a habit to move everyone to places and micromanage. Keep an eye on the correct order of things.

3:51 - Do was evidently tired during the show (he was preparing for his concert back then), he thought the sitting people won't be shown, so didn't demonstrate any reactions. He was on and off, focused and not focused during the filming.

Key is the one of the most experienced showmen among the assembled, and he showed how a joke is done on the go. He later did the most heavylifting by creating a conversational flow and connecting topics.

4:48 - Leeteuk also broke the flow. Do is a graduate of his school of MCing afterall, heh.

5:22 - Look at Do's face, haha. He is friends with Changmin, so he knows he can be this way (not show a hoobae's deference). I didn't catch if Max was signalling to the rest to stand up or not. Do stood up first, but Seulgi and Key didn't look at him to follow his example, they stood up on their own.

5:32-5:35 - That was funny. Do perked up remembering he was before cameras after calmly observing Changmin.

7:26 - Karina was sitting very poised, Wonbin did the same (as the youngest and most inexperienced, it comes off as polite), and then there was Doyoung, forgetting decorum as usual when he is tired, haha.

12:25 - Don't mention Kyuhyun, he is not with SM anymore, haha. Older gen always joke about the company in this manner.

24:34 - You still don't believe my Karina and Doyoung are cousins agenda?

25:04 - Another man wants attention of a very busy Doyoung. Do's harem is endless, but he exists in one copy.

25:14 - An example of a very natural face expression. Do wanted to say sorry, but Changmin did a grimace of "what are you even talking about you are barely standing on your feet, you are so busy and tired".

25:33 - A national IT girl, a live AI frolicking cutely before Do's eyes and not even a glance. And someone wanted to persuade me he is bi, lol.

Part 2

4:02 - I wonder if Doyoung thought here or acted on a habit with his arm turning motion (it what he does with Tae)? He almost threw Key over, which wasn't the goal of this "how could you!" spectacle.

6:00 - Ah, the times SK bought Western hits and released them as their own. The original. A song in Romanian, a Moldavian group.

7:53 - Doyoung "Yes, I'm out! I can zone out on the back". LIsten to his sharp "I don't know" and how he pulled Key by the arm forward.

Key is Gongmyung's friend. And Taeyeon's bestie. Key and Do are not close publicly (Key always names Ten, Renjun and Chenle(?)), but this interaction answered my question whether they meet bts. Do was too familiar with Key, he knew the boundaries, whether Key will play along or be offended. He acted as a noisy little brother of a friend who grew up before your eyes.

(Do MCed with Key on MCountdown, and now they are on the panel of "I live alone", but such things don't nessesary lead to this level of familiarity).

(Also, don't forget Key and Do's masterpiece "Cool")

I don't watch aespa variety and on shows, but I know Karina is everywhere, she is pushed as a host on shows as she is quick-minded and gets along with older people well. She is not just there to sit and look pretty how it is often with young female idols.

9:10 - Kangta and Doyoung became drank together once, Do can tap a CEO of SM on the shoulder, heh. Do was zonning out a lot but still kept the conversation in check and caught on the importance of time periods for different members.

9:57 - Another song from Kangta bagged.

12:33 - You see the vision?

16:42 - Lol. Do acted on Key's command here. He was surprised by the shouting though, heh.

19:10 - Changmin is also a comedian, I didn't know. He keeps the game of judging others (for betraying SM or his team).

Wonbin reminded me Riku here (and D&G HK Do reminded Riku as well).

TBC

[brandwhorestarscream]

how did Megatron Starscream and Soundwave die in the repopulation au

Nyehehehehehe >:3 oh, I'm so glad you asked. Placed under the cut cuz this content is pretty heavy. Read at your own risk

They all went out in the same category: dying from stretching their bodies too thin over millenia in the name of the repopulation project

Each of them had been mnemosurgeried and shadowplayed to the point they had no more sense of self, no recollection of the war, what they fought for, or who they are. As far as they know, they've lived their whole lives in these rehabilitation centers, birthing and raising sparklings "for the future"

Megatron died during the birth of his 26th child; he suffered a massive hemorrhage. A vital, major energon line ruptured from the pressure of the sparkling during emergence, and they prioritized saving the baby's life over saving his. He bled out before his son had even opened his optics for the first time, and that was that.

Starscream's spark imploded due to mounting stress. Even with all his memories gone, his instincts and base coding as a seeker couldn't be overriden or smothered. He was exceptionally attached to all of his bitties; seeing as seekers have sparklings in threes, their sparks undergo a lot more intensive labor than non-seeker mecha during the gestation cycle. Having to support 3, 6, 9, or even more baby sparks at once is extremely taxing. It's necessary that seekers be given ample time to recover between each batch, and you can bet your ass that they weren't given that time during the repopulation project. The constant heavylifting his body had to do to support litters near constantly combined with the stress of having his bitties taken away ss soon as they were able to survive without him... it was just too great a strain for him. Struggling to support a litter of 6 unborn sparklings (his 10th litter) and devestated at having his previous litter ripped away from him, it was all too much. His spark went into sudden failure, pushed to it's limit, and fizzled out in almost the snap of a finger. It was a near instant thing--he suddenly just collapsed, and attempts to resuscitate him were unsuccessful. His unborn children died with him that day

And Soundwave, his is arguably the most tragic. Because he and Blaster were the only ones of their kind left, his situation was pretty unique. Post operations to make him compliant, he was moved in with Blaster. It was like a morbid game of house--Soundwave trapped as a housemate meant to do nothing but churn out sparklings, never stepping outside, constantly sequestered in the house to raise them. He doesn't remember his life before, but his telepathy is intact. He reads Blaster's thoughts, he knows that this is wrong. That this isn't who he is, that this wasn't the life he always had. He stews and boils in that knowledge for centuries. He can't remember ever seeing the outside world, and the collar on his neck won't even let him get out the door without shocking him. This life seems like a happy one--his "conjunx" is kind to him, he has a warm home and plenty of fuel. His sparklings are all darling, full of laughter and very sweet, with a great deal of love for their carrier and sire alike. But it isn't real, and he feels like he's slowly suffocating locked inside that house. Eventually, on his 6th sparkling, something snaps. In his spark, he feels it when their unborn baby suddenly dies inside of him. A miscarriage that was no one's fault, that couldn't have been predicted or prevented. Their little spark extinguishes, and their bond to him shatters

And he doesn't, say, anything.

He silently swallows the news, doesn't speak a word of it to Blaster. He rarely says anything to Blaster, so it's not that weird. Occasionally he'll touch his abdomen, as if the baby is still kicking. Still fluttering and alive inside of him; only he knows that he's lugging around a corpse in his womb. As time ticks on the body ofc starts to decompose, rusting and unfurling and filling his gestation tank up with putrid poison. Soundwave says nothing. He can't. He won't. As the carrying cycle "progresses", Soundwave gets increasingly sicker. He hides it masterfully, doesn't so much as flinch even when infection and sepsis start to kick in. By the time it's discovered, months or even years after the sparkling has died, he's unconscious in his bed, caught in the grips of a raging fever. The infection has spread throughout his entire body, from the most far flung reaches of his limbs to his processor and his spark. He hated his life up until the very end, and this is the only way he could think to escape. Poisoned by his rotting child, still held safe and close within him til the very end when he dies in hospice shortly after

[brxkxnhxxrtsclxb]

went through the borusumi tag here on tumblr and y’all please don’t be upset :((

it’s okay !! things have to look a little rough before they start looking good :3

so far, it’s only the beginning of the time skip. slowly, but surely, everything will fall into place✨

boruto and sumire have finally been able to talk. even if briefly. boruto only went on business and even said he didn’t have much time until kawaki detects him, so obviously he’s gonna prioritize telling sarada what happened with sasuke. by his own admission, it’s his fault, so obviously he’s gonna do what he can to make it right

sasuke said it prior to attacking code. this is a problem he and sarada have to solve, so there’s gonna be a lot of communication regarding this issue between boruto and sarada

where does sumire fall in all this ?? well, we know she’s unaffected by omnipotence and know she’s boruto’s love interest. she’s obviously going to be more in the background as she’s a side character BUT we have seen she’s the one moving the plot forward. if it weren’t for her, boruto would be dead. if it weren’t for her conversation with amado regarding omnipotence, shikamaru wouldn’t have listened. this is all sumire

we have no idea when, but at some point she’s gonna have to have some moment where she shines because she’s already doing all the heavylifting in the background. don’t forget she asked kawaki to keep her crush on boruto a secret, so it’s only a matter of time until it’s not a secret anymore

just be patient, okay ?? again, it’s only the beginning of the time skip and things have to look a little rough before they start looking good ^_^

sending everyone love🩷💜

[littlesliceofimmortality]

PUTS ON a beaglepuss disguise ermmm can u plssss tell us your norm headcanons ?? Spare norm headcanons for us pwee 🙏🙏🥺

this was gonna be longer but uhmmid probably be repeating myself. long enough as is so irs under the cut :3

sgt norman g allen

• only person allowed to call him norman is (was) his WIFE! e'eryone ELSE gets shot at

• but now its just everyone 

• gingi jokingly calls her Norma and he'll never admit he doesnt actually mind it

• supposedly his middle name is his fathers, but if asked about it, its just G. rolls off the tongue better

• unlabelled transfem, he/she and prefers gendered terms to neutral ones

• bear & also a cougar. just a Queer man living life always homoerotically

• fully believed she was cishet pre-wormhole and was so deep in denial about it but spending that much time alone (x2) gives you some time to reflect

• still not that knowledgeable about new lgbt terminology but is slowly comin to understand it

• oliver helped the most and Gets norms gender. calls her his boymom girldad 

• mexican immigrant and is still pretty fluent in spanish! better than his korean at least

• independent skills were drilled into him from a young age but he's still better at taking care of others rather than himself

• can cook a full thanksgiving meal with the most mouthwatering droolworthy turkey complete with sides and the whole shebang but when its just him eating? soggy oatmeal

• doing ALOT better post-chap 3! might even make himself a whole OMELETTE to go with his oatmeal

• after becoming sherrif he tried to go back to his shack. everyone from mingus to gingi said "No you are NOT."

• much hassle commenced but eventually a rented house on the outskirts of uptown dialtown, paid by the mayor herself

• much more hassle ensued once norm started taking potshots at people too close to her ""yard""

• BUT that has all been settled. its not lived in much but eventually she'll learn to call it home

• however what norm Is accustomed to is his PICKUP TRUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHOOOO BABEY

• norm loves his jeep comanche eliminator like its his kid. decked out in awful AMERICAN USA USA bumper stickers

• "if ya cant operate a stick-shift, go back to drivers ed" across the back window with a skeleton on fire or a bald eagle holding a flag (or both)

• & yes it has the ballsack he finds it hilarious nobody can convince him otherwise

• calls her jessup - same name as his old horse

• obnoxious about how he drives it everywhere during dialtowns reconstruction, hauling ass and building supplies 

• the physical work HAS made him more built than ever tho

• always been a Big Guy, over 6ft and 300+ pounds. some muscle from his time as a sergeant and astronaut but mostly fat

• think heavylifter body with a softer stomach. Also more hair

• Lots of thick, black hair. on her head and body and face. blacker and deeper than space itself

• gray speckles that seem like stars or constallations you could trace in her scruff

• had short, choppy hair before the wormhole but let it grow out into a full mane after becoming an outcast anyways

[pinkysh]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

awh I love this!! thank you for sending this to me! 🖤

let's see..

- ghost movie!! it's doing a lot of heavylifting for my mood recently LOL

- honestly ghost/bands in general recently have been an immense source of happiness, as silly as that probably sounds.

- my dog, who is my love, my light, very stinky, a little menace

- the books & comics I've been reading recently!

- getting an ask honestly made my day, so thank you!!

[beevean]

isaactor hecula isaacula for the bingo? for fun, trevor/grant too

👀

Isaactor:

The divorsties 🥰

I got in an Isaactor mood again after picking up my old WIP, which is funny because the chapter I'm working on is mostly Hector bashing Isaac like the bitter ex that he is :P but yeah. They have a relationship. Not sure what kind of relationship, but they definitely have one. I wish at least one of the prequels fed me more than the smallest of breadcrumbs.

... I'm just weak for that "we're fundamentally incompatible and we are toxic for each other and we are using each other for our deepest selfish needs and yet we are so close that we're part of each other and I can't imagine my life without you" thing that is rotating in my head. Then you add the divorce, and you have a beautiful mess <3

Hecula:

"It's not my OTP," I say, as I squee fangirl-style everytime I see someone fall in hell with me, or even better draw fanart/talk about it. I may be in denial :P

Anyway, yadda yadda, it's abusive, it's gross, it's Problematic™, it hits those very nice tropes that make my brain rot faster than fruit in summer (age gap, abuse of power imbalance, mentor/protégé, manipulation...), IMO it enriches Hector's character arc of finding freedom and agency in the human world, I am utterly fascinated by how Dracula's feelings for Hector are described in Japanese, it's Lenector done right.

(I was about to tick "it would never work in canon but", just to get that bingo, but I can't lie. After all, it's canon and I have proof :P although I admit there is a lot of heavylifting to do here since we know very little of what Hector thought of Dracula pre-betrayal)

Isaacula:

The mirror opposite of Hecula. Isaac adores his Lord and would nullify himself for him, and Dracula is, at best, only mildly amused to have a dog at his beck and call, but won't grant him the Special Treatment that Isaac craves :P I still rotate in my head various possibilities on what Dracula does to Isaac, from completely ignoring him, to only feeding on him but pretty much for necessity, to also using him as a toy but without any sort of fondness, just a way to manipulate him and keeping him happy and compliant.

Sidenote, I find somewhat amusing that Isaac is "merely" Dracula's loyal servant in canon, as in one that simply didn't even think of betraying his Lord, but it's just so, so easy to imagine him as being utterly, selflessly devoted to the point of self-destruction. It's because of the collar and tattoos. Because Isaac has a fantastic character design that tells you everything you need to know about him without anyone explaining it to you. (and personally, I've always loved his line "if you have a good weapon, you use it, don't you?", which just. says a lot about him. my broken boy <3)

And second sidenote, I honestly wonder why any combination of Dracula/Hector/Isaac seems to be so unpopular, even back in the day when people were far less picky regarding ships :\ (N!Isaactor is quite popular, but I haven't found anything for N!Isaacula and N!Hecula. The latter sucks so I understand, but idk, are people really afraid of some good lord/servant ship even when positive like in the former's case?)

Gravor (?)

I see them as fire-forged besties (or "besties" 😏), but I can absolutely see the romantic appeal! Also their relationship is underrated in general because Grant is underrated in general :(

[idolisnotdead]

anew - The First Group To Do It For Me In Nearly A Decade

Miss me? Probably not. It's only been half a decade since my last post. Did you guys know I was secretly working behind the scenes as a ghostwriter/producer for a pretty popular alt-idol group back when this blog was still active? I know, crazy, right? I'll admit to it now, but I'd still like to keep the circumstances, the "who", the "when", and the "how" a secret. Anyone who paid attention enough should probably have had it figured it out though.

It's honestly pretty incredible thinking about how much things have changed since even 5 years ago when I made that last post about what seemed like the end of Oyasumi Hologram. One of the most interesting parts is that they're surprisingly still around 5 years on from Hachigatsu's departure. Apparently they're still going a lot of live shows, but their music releases have been sporadic at best. They brought in two girls to replace Hachi as a sort of pseudo-band, but I believe both of them have left and it's just Kanamil left. I don't know much else to be honest, I'm really not caught up or tuned in much anymore considering how little music they've dropped and how much I've just lost touch with idol stuff as a whole lately.

Which is actually why I've dug up the old info and logged in today. A whole lot has changed since I started this blog, as a decade often does. I don't foresee myself posting again for a while though, so I suppose this is a happy 10 years to this blog just a few months early. Anyone who remembers the blog well will know that it basically started as an "ending" project to the historian/documentarian work I was doing in the early 2010s trying to get as much English info out there as possible about the underground J-pop and burgeoning anti-idol scenes at the time. Those of you old enough to remember the early 2010s will also remember that DeepL didn't exist and Google Translate was completely fucking useless. It's kind of insane to think there is near-perfect machine translation available now, though I also strongly believe it's not a replacement to the work a true human translator does, especially for applications like media localization and subtitling.

Anyway. What a ride it's been. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was making some of the internet's first English-language posts about BiS and Seiko Oomori. Maybe you've heard of them now? Also if you're wondering who tipped Anthony Fantano off to Haru Nemuri in the first place, it was me. Just saying. You can once again thank me for your favorite getting popular enough for you have heard about them in the first place.

Adding to my early work documenting this stuff in English for the first time, it's actually astounding to see just how successful idol stuff has gotten in the west so far this decade due to a few factors including the mainstream acceptance of anime (thank you to Lil Uzi Vert and Megan Thee Stallion for really doing the heavylifting there), the pandemic keeping people inside long enough to make an app like TikTok powerful enough to completely change the pop culture climate at admittedly far-too-fast/frequent of a pace, and honestly maybe even a bit of influence from hallyu; have you guys noticed how like...almost every recent J-pop/idol group who has gotten truly popular in the west kind of just fucking sound nothing like actual J-pop but instead more like the already very western-flavored K-pop of recent years? Yeah. God man, most Japanese music is actually on streaming services now. Did you guys know that you don't have to scavenge JPopSuki and JPopSingles (and whatever that other site was called that started with a Y) for downloads or import from CDJapan anymore to listen to J-pop? Yeah. It's just all on Spotify, mostly. Insane. I still prefer to own my music though because the streaming model is just not good. You will not catch me listening to stuff on Spotify after release day.

Getting to the point of today's post, I've actually found a new (lol) idol group that sparks joy in me for the first time in nearly a decade, and I think that's worth making a post about. So how did this come about? Well, it's really nice to say that I've actually still been in contact with friend of the blog Deadgrandma all these years on. He actually brought this group to my attention, thanks to their staggeringly unique looking new press photos to promote their concert this month. They're called "anew". It's pretty clear that their name isn't exactly the most SEO friendly, so I just kind of bookmarked it and sat it aside for now. Well, after finally diving around in my bookmarks again today while listening to Wasuta (still on about them, they're truly the GOATs of chika idols), I figured I'd give this new group a quick search. Lo and behold, they've actually released two minis and a few singles already. What struck me even more was that their newest single was actually a cover of Going Steady's "Doutei So Young". That is a very, very, very easy way to draw my interest.

And so my journey began, parsing through everything on anew's YouTube channel. Last year's single TSUKANOMA is what really drew my attention and reignited that flame I haven't felt in nearly a decade now. I think anew is doing something special, something that reminds me of the kind of noisy jazzy rock music Atarashii Gakko was doing in the late 2010s (did you guys know Atarashii Gakko are like fucking Coachella levels of popular in the west now!?).

Anyways, I'm still on this journey of going through their discography and soaking it all, but it's the fact that I'm on that journey at all that's astounding. Normally I hear 15 seconds of a recent J-pop or idol group and that's about all I need to hear to not give a shit; I've been around this game for a while, I've seen so many truly unique acts come and go over the last odd 15-20 years, so when a more normie-adjacent friend sends me something ultra-generic, I usually just have to be friendly, smile, and go "wow, sounds great!" as if I hadn't already heard another better group invent the wheel for the first time a decade ago and seen 50 worse groups borrow that same wheel for the 5000th time since.

And while I'm not saying anew is reinventing the wheel or anything, I will say it's unbelievably refreshing to hear a group this raw, this low budget, and this genuine. There's an unrefined edge to what they're doing, the type of group that only comes about when there's an actual passion for this kind of stuff, that only comes about when someone on your team is a fan of both Going Steady and idol music and is bold enough to combine them without concern for profit; Oyasumi Hologram's heavy Number Girl influence, anyone? What anew is doing is a genuine passion for the artform of idol, not the business model of idol. And that's just so unbelievably refreshing.

Anyways, that's about all I got for now. It just feels good to care again. Hell, I might even watch the Tokyo Idol Festival streams this summer just to see if there's anything else as fresh as this going on under my barely-existent radar these days. I really can't get over how this group is making me feel right now, it really feels special. It makes me feel like Bloodborne and Splatoon just came out, like BiSH just dropped SPARK. It's like 2015 levels of pure joy running through my head right now.

Tap into anew below:

By the way, if y'all are looking for my recent, more personal writings that won't be guaranteed to have anything to do with idol stuff, I write on Medium now occasionally. It's been a few years since my last post there too, but I have plenty of drafts in the pipeline for when I get around to them. Lots of rankings like my ever-popular Pillows discography ranking which I'd kind of consider the predecessor post to what I now do on Medium. I'm a VTuber now too as well as one of the most in-demand and prominent music producers and mix engineers in the VTuber business, so you can follow the trail of crumbs if you're that interested, I won't link any of that.

[vataccountingae]

How CFO Services In Dubai Can Drive Financial Success

In a world marked by rapidly changing and exciting events, financial success means something more than operational efficiency. Companies require strategic financial leadership to navigate these challenges toward identifying opportunities and optimizing growth. This is where CFO services in Dubai come to fruition. From startups venturing into Business Setup in Dubai, UAE, to large companies that require Business Valuation Services in Dubai, all field needed expertise and insights from CFOs so as to drive the organization toward financial excellence.

Thus, this article discusses how CFO services, provided in Dubai, empower businesses to meet their goals, improve operational efficiencies, and attain a competitive advantage in a thriving economy.

The Role of CFO Services in Business Growth

CFOs do much more than merely provide financial oversight; they are among the troops of strategic partners in the business development function. Beyond budgeting and accounting, their responsibilities include strategic planning, risk management, and financial optimization. Businesses can cut costs, streamline processes, and make decisions-with-a-heavylifting of their skill set.

Here is a deep dive into how CFO services in Dubai can greatly leverage financial success.

Long-Term Strategic Financial Planning for Success.

Every successful company has financial planning at the crux of its operations. The CFOs develop robust strategies keeping in mind both the goals of the business and the needs of the Dubai market. Plans cover aspects from budgeting, resource allocation through to forecasting, which are necessary for sustained growth.

For businesses under the Business Setup in Dubai UAE, CFOs can help create a financial roadmap: They will help them in resource allocation, managing startup costs, and planning for future expansion.

The major contributions from CFOs toward a financial plan include:

1. Analyzing the market trends and economic indicators.

2. Aligning financial strategies to business objectives.

3. Minimizing risks through data-driven forecasting.

Businesses will have limited financial visibility, hereunder to help them adapt to fluctuations in the market and seize new opportunities.

Improve Financial Clarity and Visibility

Within a fast-changing marketplace like Dubai, visibility into your financial performance is crucial. CFOs have instituted progressive financial reporting, which are systems that provide real-time insights into the financial health of your company. This craft may not only be about better decision making but also improved accountability and trust from the stakeholders too.

Advantages of Financial Transparency:

Spotting the areas not performing well.

More close tracking of revenue streams and expenses.

It builds confidence with investors and lenders.

Whether it is a day-to-day management process or enticing a set of investors, insights brought about by CFO services always keep you a step ahead.

Business Valuation Services in Dubai

Business valuation becomes ever more important for mergers, acquisitions, and fundraising. CFOs are an integral part of the Business Valuation Services in Dubai, coming up with accurate assessments of your company’s worth. They evaluate your company’s assets and liabilities, market position, and future earning possibilities for providing a complete picture.

CFOs act as intermediaries to ensure that financial data is produced in a way to enhance understanding but more importantly for gaining buy-in on value from the business owner. This skill adds up a lot to getting the most out of the deal.

Key Contributions of the CFO in Business Valuation:

Conducting deep financial analysis, market competitive assessment, and awarding insights on possible value improvement opportunities.

Under the guidance of a CFO, companies can unlock their potential in valuation periods and negotiations.

Optimizing Financial Operations

CFOs are efficiency wizards. They find spots in process flows that create bottlenecks for finance and introduce solutions to improve workflow. Everything from automating manual repetitive tasks to renegotiating vendor contracts can lead businesses toward saving cost and increasing operational efficiency.

This is considerably useful for companies newly setting up businesses in Dubai, where optimizing resources can set the success trajectory or fail the company.

CFO Introduced Improvements:

Facilitate automation of financial reporting and data analysis.

Streamline payroll and systems accounting.

Reduce procurement and supply chain costs.

By improving financial operational efficiencies, resource lock is free for innovation and growth.

Compliance with UAE Statutory and Regulatory Requirements

Dubai is a city where business thrives internationally but has complex regulations. From VAT to corporate governance, all regulations are so strict that they bring penalties with them if not followed. CFOs make sure that one is following all these legal and regulatory requirements so that the company, reputation, and finances remain safe.

Regulatory Areas Covered by CFO Services:

VAT filing and compliance.

International financial reporting standards compliance.

Handling cross-border tax liability.

If you’re a business working on compliance regulations in the UAE, the expertise of a CFO is worth it. CFO services enable your operations to be compliant while creating avenues for tax efficiencies.

Taking Advantage of Growth Opportunities in Dubai

The dynamic economy of Dubai creates space for innumerable opportunities. These range from penetration into new markets to launching new products. The CFO lays down foundational strategies that promote their growth while reducing the risks that accompany the opportunities.

How They Drive Growth:

Evaluate new market entry feasibility.

Leverage loans or investors for funding.

Monitor ROI for business initiatives.

Explore business avenues for growth with confidence, knowing that good financial planning and analysis back everything under the CFO.

Crisis Management and Risk Mitigation

Businesses sometimes find themselves in the middle of sudden turning points, which challenges them. CFOs are the corporate crisis managers. They help companies balance their financial degrees of freedom in the event of a market downturn, disruption, or operation set back. They script out contingency plans, strategies to mitigate potential losses, and restore stability.

Contributions of a CFO in Risk Mitigation:

Identifying and addressing potential financial risks.

Diversification of revenue streams in order not to be too dependent.

Ensure sufficient supply of liquidity during downturns in the economy.

Given that CFOs actively manage risk, they can assist an organization in becoming resilient.

Tailored Support for Setting up Business in Dubai

Setting up a venture in Dubai typically requires a very elaborate range of financial and legal processes. CFO services provide tailored support throughout this phase to ensure that the formation of your business is narrow at the base.

Key Areas of Support:

Handling start-up funds and costs.

Establishing effective systems of accounting and reporting.

Compliance with the legal and tax environment of Dubai.

CFOs remove the intricacies of Business Set up Dubai in UAE, allowing budding entrepreneurs to concentrate on their processorships.

Reasons For Needing CFO Services In A Dubai Business

Dubai’s business ecosystem, however, is fast-paced. It offers very high competition and a special regulatory environment. CFO offer expertise and strategic vision or needed to succeed in such an environment. It can help businesses establish a partnership with professional CFO services to:

Accrue financial stability and profitability,

Enhance operational efficiency, and

Deeper, better-determined decision-making informed by precise data.

Conclusion

Engaging CFO services in Dubai is a transformational event for any business striving to gain financially in a competitive environment. CFOs bring unmatched expertise to the table, serving from strategic planning, risk management, and regulatory compliance to Business Valuation Services in Dubai.

Whether a new venture is being set up in Dubai or scaling existing businesses, a CFO can make sure that financial strategies are well aligned with what is sought and ensure the sustainable growth of the company. For that dynamic market like Dubai, which is full of opportunities, one cannot afford to miss him; it simply adds another edge toward future success.

[my-so-called-euphoria]

So I'm not that big a fan of the actual show, A Murder at the End of the World is totally fine, unlike 90% of shows I start, I will happily finish it, so I guess it's better than most out there. I feel like that possum in Fantastic Mr Fox with the dazzled eyes everytime Emma Corrin is onscreen though, that is doing a lot of the heavylifting of watching the show, but also, that fucking hotel, I don't know what aesthetic that is (cabin chic?), but I want to redesign my home to be like that, down to the furniture.