Cómics, Mangas, Comunidad!

@cactaur Comments are turned on, it's just that no nobody takes the time to make them.

De @jisuk - Post original

Tons of kids just got off the train at Hamamatsucho. Must be an event at the Pokemon Center. #takemewithyou

De @jisuk - Post original

Boop

So, just curious! Any thoughts on the writing, or were the likes for the drawing? 

Likes and reblogs are appreciated obviously, but they don't tell me what I'm doing right/wrong!

De @jisuk - Post original

I guess one thing I dislike about Tumblr is the lack of actual commenting. I really need legit feedback and received literally nothing.

De @jisuk - Post original

may-sparrow :
sorry if this question bothers you, you don't have to respond, but do you know what's happened with Fishbones?

Reponse:

The website got all messed up with WordPress and the plugin we were using decided to suddenly be incompatible and what we have up right now is just a placeholder layout. A friend of mine is working on restoring the site to WordPress with Comic Easel, and it should be done soon. Until then, we won’t be updating though. Sorry about that and thanks for your patience!

Karasu - Part 01

It’s a story! I’m going to try to post it on Tumblr in parts with accompanying sketches. This is the first part. As you might notice, I originally wanted it to be some kind of elegant fairytale but then the writing degraded into my usual derp hurp ghbrllkajj……

—————————

Karasu, Part 01

Upon a old, wooded mountain, there was once was a temple. The surrounding trees were knotted, yet proud. It was a well kept temple — maintained and honored by a group of monks numbering no more than twenty. Their lives were quiet and filled with prayer and study.

Despite their peaceful nature, and despite their respect for the land and one another, the temple was never visited by the villagers from the foot of the mountain. It was a place mentioned only in hushes, in tales to frighten children and in stories shrouded with superstition. The monks, of course, were not human like the villagers were. They were ‘tengu.’ ‘Crow-demons.’ ‘Monsters.’

Shichi did not like to think of himself as a monster. Most of his time was spent gardening and studying herbal medicine. He had recently begun to practice acupuncture under the mentorship of an elder monk. Occasionally, he liked to indulge himself with a nap up in a tree, or perhaps a drink to loosen his shoulders. He sometimes wondered if these were things that monsters did, or if there was some other reason the humans viewed their temple with such contempt.

Similarly, the tengu had been advised to never go near the village. Humans were unpredictable. They were greedy, cruel, and violent. They could kill and take without ever giving anything back. Yet these claims were also questioned by the young monk. How could it be that an entire populace would act in such a way? Surely there were many kinds of humans — terrible, kind, clever, and foolish. Yet it would only take one terrible human to take a life — one cruel notion to bring immeasurable suffering. It was probably for the best that they stay clear of the village, and that the humans keep their distance as well.

Such thoughts often distracted Shichi, especially when he was alone in the forest. His mind was wandering, hazy from the scent of pine and the warmth of the sun. He was gathering herbs, examining their stalks and leaves before making a smart cut at the base. It was important not to over-pick, or there might not be anything left for the next season. His hands, black as the rest of him, smelled of chickweed and shiso. There were smudges of dirt on the knees of his pants from kneeling to dig up roots. The scent of damp earth lingered from the previous night’s rain and he inhaled deeply, relishing his solitude.

A clatter of rock and a distant splash, however, perked his attention.

His eyes turned north towards the sound, wondering if it was worth investigating. The woods were full of animals, not to mention the local spirits. It was most likely a boar rummaging through the underbrush. Most likely — but not certainly. Dusting his hands off, he straightened himself and moved through the trees. He could hear the ripple of running water and headed towards the source of the sound — whatever splashed must have done so in the stream.

As the tengu reached the edge of the treeline, he froze in mid-step. It was not a boar that had slipped into the stream — no, it wasn’t an animal at all. He was, for the first time in his life, staring into the eyes of a human. It was a female, or at least, he was fairly certain it was. He had seen them before, from a distance. This, however, was quite different. She was so close. Close enough to see each strand of her dark hair, to see the water soaking her cream yukata to a dark brown. What struck him most of all, though, was the look in her eyes. They were wide with fear, locked on his form and nearly shuddering. It looked as though she wanted to cry out, but had forgotten how to create sound. All he could hear was a sharp inhale as her mouth opened. Shichi knew what a scream was and this certainly looked like the birth of one. Not wanting to be around for it, he backed up in such a hurry that he stumbled, desperate to disappear into the woods.

“Wait!”

He stopped. His body paused with thought before he turned to look at her once again. It was only then that he realized that she wasn’t just sitting lopsided in the stream in some kind of odd human ritual. Of course — she had fallen in. The woman’s legs were folded beneath her in an awkward position, one leg jutting out to the side. He didn’t have to be experienced with human anatomy to figure out that she had hurt herself.

Shichi’s heart began to pound. This was horrible. His day had been going so well, and now he was facing a tiresome trial of morality. Should he remember the advice of the elder monks and stay away from her, as a human? Should he follow the guidelines that he had been raised with — to always help others before oneself? Or should he just follow the burning instinct to throw a rock at her before darting back into the forest? The feathers on the back of his neck began to puff with agitation.

“Do you… understand me?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Of course I understand you,” he replied, a bit offended. It took him a moment to consider his words before he spoke again. “Ah. What I meant was… to ask, that is…”

The woman swallowed. Noticing her anxiety, he crouched down beside her to avoid looming.

“Do you need help?” he asked, this time more gently.

She thought for a moment, clearly trying to decide if she should trust her life to a bird-monster or to just die alone in the woods. Neither option was very appealing.

“I hurt my ankle,” she finally said. “I can’t walk.”

“Clearly,” he muttered as the water continued to seep into the fabric of her clothes. He moved slightly closer, lowering his head to take a look at her injury.

“May I?” he asked, to which she nodded her permission. He felt carefully over the tendon. Shichi avoided looking at her, not wanting to see whatever expression of revulsion she might have on her face. Instead, he focused on the woman’s heel, taking note of the redness and swelling. A slight turn of the ankle drew a hiss of discomfort from the human’s mouth.

“It’s sprained,” he said, gingerly setting it back down before rummaging through his satchel. Luckily, he had a few fresh turmeric roots. Setting one down on a flat stone, he held it steady while crushing it with even strokes of a fisted rock. This wasn’t exactly ideal — normally he would boil and dry it before turning it into a fine powder, but little about this situation was ideal to begin with. Once the yellow root had been mashed into a paste, he began to apply it over the reddened skin.

“This will ease the swelling,” he explained, covering the sprain with tightly wrapped strips of leaves. The entire time he worked, she simply watched. As the minutes passed by, so did her fear, and her breathing slowed in relief.

“Do you have anything to tie this?” he asked. “A string or sash, maybe?”

The woman turned her head, tugging a long, white ribbon from her hair. It fell loosely around her shoulders as she handed it to him, and he hesitated before accepting it. It was strange, human hair. It was stringy like an animal’s fur, but so long and smooth-looking. Turning his attention back to the sprain, he wrapped the piece of fabric in even loops around the leaves, then tied it firmly with a knot. Satisfied with his work, he closed his herb bag and picked himself up.

“Well… good-bye,” he said stiffly before turning once again towards the trees.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” she asked.

“Y… yes?” he said, wondering what more she could want from him.

“But I still can’t walk,” she reminded him, her voice blunt with frustration. Oh, right. That.

“Well, I… ah, I can’t exactly…,” he began to say, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t bring her back to her village. They would probably kill him on sight. Taking her to the temple was even less of an option. But, then…

“All right,” he sighed, then knelt in front of her, offering his back. She considered him briefly before leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. He hooked below her knees and stood, groaning in surprise at her weight. Humans were heavy. Was it because of all that hair? Even heavier, though, was his guilt. Above all things forbidden, going near a human was the most dangerous. Not only had he gone near one, but he’d touched one — spoken to one, and was now carrying this human up the side of the mountain.

He could feel her breath on his shoulder and the light tug of her fingers on his clothing. This was most likely hurting her pride as much as it was his. Did this woman actually pose a threat? Was there some underlying danger that he was overlooking? Or perhaps his earlier musings were correct — that not all humans were destructive. Either way, it was too late to change his mind.

Soon, they came across a rather small structure. It had been partly reclaimed by the forest, with thick vines covering the eastern walls and roof. Time had worn down the little building without mercy. What mattered, though, was that it was still standing.

With a bit of struggle, he slid open the wooden door, revealing the inside of the abandoned storage shed. It had once been used to keep dried vegetables, grains, and liquor. It was eventually deemed too far and too small to be viable and had been forgotten by most of the monks. Light filtered in through tears in the paper windows, illuminating floating specks of dust. Carefully, he set her down on an empty sake cask.

“You can rest here for a while, but you should leave as soon as you can walk,” taking a step back towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve been gone too long. I… I really shouldn’t be talking to you,” he admitted, averting his eyes.

The woman didn’t reply, only looking down at the dusty floor. Realizing that he sounded rather cold, he softened his voice.

“I’ll return later with something to eat. Will you be all right?”

“I should be,” she said, her expression easing. “Thank you.”

Shichi nodded, then closed the door behind him. As it shut, he let out a heavy sigh. This had to be the most foolish thing he’d ever done in his life.

@GRohac A hero to us all.

De @jisuk - Post original

@kikibee Shit you're my tall friend now how am I supposed to describe you.

De @jisuk - Post original