Silly | 20 | she/her | Artist + OC Enthusiast | Archive for any and all things Gachiakuta | I'm not consistent with my art sry :( I try tho | I repost a lot!!
I WANNA START WRITING FICS, SEND ME REQUESTS RN PLEASE PLEASE
I’m gonna try my best, I think I’ll stick to gachiakuta for rn!!
The banner was made by the wonderful @n4tsukis !!
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Hi, welcome to my acc <3 This is meant to be a super chill space for everything Gachiakuta :D
⭐️ I absolutely love talking to people about Gachiakuta and making new friends so never feel afraid to reach to me whether it be to discuss the story, theories, HCs, etc!
I’d love to hear all about them ^_^ Just don’t be. insensitive. or plain rude. Yeah!
And if you have OCs and wanna share…TELL ME EVERYTHING
⚠️Disclaimer: A lot of what I’ll eventually put up on this acc is going to be OC work and obviously is in no way, shape, or form official! Gachiakuta is such a beautiful media and this is just one of my ways of exploring it further. Thank you :>
⭐️I am SO inconsistent w/ my activity/art, here’s to hoping I get betterr🥂
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MASTERLIST
I’ll add more to this if I need too but I can’t think of anything else rn🙂↕️
Hey! I love your x reader fics so much (particularly your Kyouka ones) and I also love some forbidden love stories, so i’ve had this idea floating around in my head i feel the need to share.
Kyouka x Giver!reader.
Reader doesn’t have to be a cleaner, though i do think it would make the most sense, i also like the idea of a secret giver in the hell gaurd, or like a team of givers for “just in case”. Again i just think cleaner makes the most sense with how they met, why it’s forbidden, so on so forth.
i’m also a sucker for angst, so like i always imagined it not working out and having to break up but still love each other, doomed from the start type shit.
honestly that’s just what i’ve been thinking about, i’m mostly excited to read your interpretation of it all!
YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG
–Or you're a dog, and I'm your man
NOTES: I can't stand making characters break up, so I chose the other option– killing one off! IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG !!! I hope this is satisfactory
CONTENT: Kyouka x fem!cleaner!reader, reader is a giver, technically no established relationship, Hurt no comfort, one of the two dies, descriptions of mourning, grief
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
Nobody knew what to call whatever existed between you and Kyouka Nijiku.
Not even the two of you.
You weren't lovers.
The idea would've made both of you immediately deny it.
But friends? That wasn't right either.
Friends didn't stare at one another across rooms with enough tension to make everyone nearby uncomfortable.
Friends didn't seek each other out after every mission just to argue.
Friends didn't remember exactly how the other took their tea.
The truth sat somewhere in the middle.
Undefined.
Uncomfortable.
Dangerously important.
You were a Cleaner, Kyouka was Hell Guard.
That fact alone was enough to start most of your arguments.
The first few had been harmless.
Differences in procedure.
Differences in priorities.
The sort of disagreements that naturally happened when two organizations worked toward the same goal through entirely different methods.
But over time, Kyouka developed a habit. A frustrating habit. Every conversation somehow circled back to the same topic.
"You should join the Hell Guard."
At first you'd laughed.
Then you ignored it.
Then you started expecting it.
Now it just irritated you.
The suggestion came often enough that some people had begun placing bets on how long it would take her to bring it up whenever the two of you were together.
Sometimes, she lasted ten minutes. Sometimes five. One memorable occasion lasted less than thirty seconds.
You'd walked into a room.
She'd looked up.
And immediately said it.
"Join the Hell Guard." As if she'd been waiting all day.
You never understood why she was so determined.
There were plenty of capable people among the Cleaners.
Plenty of fighters, and plenty of individuals worthy of recruitment.
Yet Kyouka seemed fixated on you specifically. It would've been flattering if it wasn't so infuriating.
"You're wasting your talents." That was one of her favorites.
Another was: "You'd have more opportunities."
And then there was: "You'd be safer."
That one always made you laugh.
Safer.
As if becoming Hell Guard suddenly made someone immortal.
As if danger magically disappeared because you wore a different uniform.
Every time she brought it up, you shut her down.
Every time.
And every time she tried again.
The stubbornness would've been impressive if it wasn't directed at you.
The argument that finally broke things apart started like every other one.
With a simple conversation.
The two of you had crossed paths after a long day.
Both exhausted, both irritable, both already in bad moods.
A dangerous combination— You should've walked away immediately.
Instead, you stayed.
And Kyouka made the mistake of bringing it up again.
"You should transfer."
You didn't even look at her. "No."
Her expression immediately darkened.
The response had become automatic.
She could practically hear it before you said it.
"You didn't even think about it."
"I've thought about it every time you've asked."
"Then your answer should've changed by now."
You rolled your eyes. "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The reason I don't listen to you."
Her eyebrows lowered. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You don't ask me things," You finally looked at her,
"You decide." The air between you immediately became heavier. "You've already decided what's best for me."
"Because it's obvious."
"No it isn't."
"It is."
"No, Kyouka." Your voice sharpened, "No, it isn't."
People nearby had started leaving.
Neither of you noticed– or cared for that matter.
Kyouka crossed her arms.
"You spend your days hunting Trash Beasts."
"I'm a Cleaner."
"You constantly throw yourself into dangerous situations."
"I'm a Cleaner."
"You nearly died three weeks ago."
"I'm still alive."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
Her jaw tightened.
The answer sat right there, close enough to reach.
But she didn't say it.
Instead she fell back on the same argument she'd always used.
"The Hell Guard would make better use of you."
You laughed though it was a short humorless sound. "There it is."
"What?"
"You keep talking about what's useful." The irritation you'd been carrying for months finally surfaced. "You ever stop to think maybe I don't want what you want? You don't know what I want."
"Then tell me."
The words came out harder than intended.
The moment they left your mouth, something shifted.
Kyouka froze, though only briefly it was long enough for you to notice.
Tell me– what simple words.
Yet neither of you seemed capable of answering them.
The silence stretched.
Then shattered.
"You have a future."
You blinked. "What?"
"You have a future." Her voice was firm. "You shouldn't throw it away."
The anger inside you cooled slightly, instead replaced by confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"No I dont."
"You take unnecessary risks."
"I do my job."
"You make reckless decisions."
"I do my job."
"You'll get yourself killed."
The words landed like a slap.
For a second neither of you moved, then something ugly twisted in your chest.
Because she sounded afraid.
Not annoyed.
Not angry.
Afraid.
And somehow that made everything worse.
You laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because you didn't know what else to do.
"You're unbelievable."
Kyouka's expression darkened.
"And you're impossible."
"Maybe." You stepped back. "But at least I don't spend every conversation trying to change who you are."
The words hit harder than intended.
You saw it happen, that tiny flicker. A tiny crack in her composure before she buried it.
But it had been there.
For just a second.
And suddenly you couldn't stay.
The argument felt too personal.
Too raw.
Too close to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.
So you turned, and you walked away.
Kyouka called your name.
You ignored her.
She called it again.
You kept walking.
The last thing you heard before disappearing around the corner was her voice.
Frustrated, angry, and worried.
And for the first time, you didn't turn back.
The further you walked, the worse your mood became.
You replayed the conversation over and over.
Every word.
Every look.
Every pause.
The things said.
The things left unsaid.
You hated it.
Hated how easily she got under your skin.
Hated how much her opinion mattered.
Most of all, you hated that she'd sounded genuinely scared.
Because if you thought about that too long, you'd start asking questions.
Questions neither of you seemed willing to answer.
So instead, you did what you always did when frustration became unbearable.
You looked for something to hit.
A mission would've been ideal. Unfortunately, Semiu said there weren't any nearby.
So your feet carried you elsewhere.
Toward the outskirts.
Toward the abandoned regions.
Toward danger.
Toward the place everyone knew to avoid.
No Man's Land.
The boundary appeared gradually.
The landscape changed.
The atmosphere shifted.
The feeling of wrongness grew heavier with every step.
Normal people avoided these regions entirely.
Even experienced fighters approached them carefully.
The polluted zones housed stronger Trash Beasts and greater risks.
Everyone knew that. You knew that.
But anger had a way of making people stupid.
And you were very angry.
"Just one." You said it aloud, as if hearing it made the decision smarter.
It didn't.
The first Trash Beast died quickly.
The second took slightly longer.
The third actually managed to injure you.
By then, common sense should've prevailed.
You should've turned around. Gone home. Gotten some sleep. Forgotten the argument.
Instead, like a fool, you kept moving deeper.
Further.
Further.
Further.
Until the realization finally hit.
You'd gone too far.
The silence changed first.
Then the air.
Then the feeling.
Something massive was nearby.
Your instincts screamed.
Every survival lesson you'd ever learned screamed.
Leave now.
Unfortunately, realization came too late.
The creature emerged from the haze, far larger than anything you'd expected to encounter alone.
For a brief moment, everything stopped.
The world.
Your breathing.
Your thoughts.
Then the Trash Beast moved.
And the fight began.
Nobody witnessed what happened.
Nobody survived to report it.
Nobody knew exactly how long you fought.
Only the aftermath remained.
The destruction.
The ruined terrain.
The blood.
The evidence of a battle that had ended badly. Very badly.
You fought.
You survived.
You pushed yourself further than you should've.
But eventually strength ran out as it always did.
One mistake became another. One injury became several. And somewhere in that hopeless struggle, the inevitable happened.
The Cleaner who never backed down, the Cleaner Kyouka had spent months trying to drag into a safer position, the Cleaner she'd argued with countless times had died.
You had died all alone in No Man's Land, with people only finding what remained of you days after the fact.
At first, nobody realized you were missing.
Cleaners disappeared for a day or two all the time.
Missions ran long.
Assignments changed.
Schedules shifted.
It happened.
Then one day became two.
Two became three.
Concern slowly replaced assumption.
People started asking questions.
Looking.
Searching.
Kyouka heard about it almost by accident, it was just a passing conversation.
A casual remark.
A missing Cleaner.
Your name.
The moment she heard it, something felt wrong.
You weren't the type to vanish.
You weren't the type to disappear without warning.
She immediately began searching.
Officially, there was no reason. Unofficially, she couldn't stop herself.
She checked headquarters.
Asked questions.
Tracked reports.
Followed every lead she could find.
With each dead end, the feeling in her chest worsened.
By the fourth day, frustration had become worry.
By the fifth day, worry had become fear.
By the sixth, she finally learned where you'd gone– No Man's Land.
The words hit like a physical blow. For a long moment, Kyouka simply stared.
Waiting for someone to correct themselves.
Nobody did.
The silence told her everything.
"No."
The word escaped before she could stop it.
The room went quiet.
No Man's Land.
Alone.
After an argument.
After she'd told you not to throw your life away.
After she'd warned you.
After she'd watched you walk away.
Someone continued speaking, explaining that a cleaners team traveling there for a mission had found you.
Kyouka didn't hear any of it, her thoughts had become a roar.
A desperate refusal.
You couldn't be dead.
You were too stubborn.
Too reckless.
Too difficult.
Too alive.
But reality didn't care what she believed.
The search team found enough evidence.
There was no mistake, and certainly no misunderstanding.
No miracle waiting around the corner.
You were gone.
For the first time in years, Kyouka didn't know what to do.
She stood there in complete silence as the information settled slowly.
The last conversation she'd ever have with you had been an argument.
The last thing she'd done was try to force you into a future you didn't want.
The last thing she'd heard was your footsteps walking away.
And now there would never be another conversation.
Never another argument, never another chance.
Kyouka lowered her head.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
The commander who never bent stood perfectly still.
And for the first time since she'd met you, she had absolutely no idea where to find you.
Because there was nowhere left to look.
The seasons changed after a while.
Life didn't stop simply because someone died.
Kyouka learned that lesson quickly though it was one she hated.
The sun still rose every morning, people still filled the streets, the Hell Guard still had reports to file, criminals to apprehend, duties to fulfill, and the Cleaners still hunted Trash Beasts.
The world continued moving forward with cruel indifference.
And somehow that felt wrong, because you weren't there.
The first few weeks had been the hardest.
Everywhere she looked, there was something that reminded her of you.
A stupid comment someone made.
A chair left empty during a meeting.
A familiar route through the city.
Every reminder arrived unexpectedly, and every reminder hurt.
Kyouka never spoke about it, she wasn't the type. But the people under her command knew something had changed.
They could see it.
She spoke less, didn't bother with people like how she did before, worked longer hours too.
But nobody dared ask why. Not when her gaze had become so distant. Not when she looked tired in ways sleep couldn't fix. Not when she carried grief like armor.
Some wounds weren't meant to be discussed.
So everyone pretended not to notice, and Kyouka pretended she was fine.
Months passed, then more.
The sharp pain dulled.
It became quieter like a constant aching presence she carried everywhere.
It was something she learned to live beside.
Not overcome.
On a cool afternoon, she found herself standing before your grave again.
She visited more often than she'd ever admit.
Always alone, usually in silence.
Today was different.
Today she carried a small wooden tray.
Upon it sat a teapot and two cups.
The tea had been prepared carefully.
A habit she had developed more after your death. You always teased her for preferring tea when conversations stretched too long.
You'd say she's much to formal, and Kyouka had always insisted that made no sense.
You'd laughed at her and sometimes she even found herself laughing alongside you.
Now she found herself remembering that conversation in embarrassing detail.
The memory almost made her smile.
Almost.
The cemetery was quiet.
The wind moved gently through the grass.
Clouds drifted overhead.
Everything felt peaceful.
The sort of peace people searched their entire lives for.
Kyouka hated it, because you never got to see it. You'd spent your life running toward danger. And now the world suddenly wanted to be gentle.
It felt unfair.
She approached your grave slowly.
The stone was familiar, far too familiar.
There had been a time when seeing your name written there made her feel sick.
Now it simply hurt.
She could live with that.
Kyouka lowered herself onto the ground, the movement was careful and measured.
She set the tray beside her, and then poured tea into both cups.
Steam rose from the surface.
Thin white tendrils drifting upward into the afternoon air
For a few moments she simply watched it. Then she reached for the second cup.
The one that wasn't hers.
And placed it carefully atop the gravestone.
Right in front of your name.
The gesture had become tradition.
A pointless tradition.
A foolish tradition.
But one she continued anyway.
"You still owe me for all the tea you've stolen."
Her voice broke the silence. It was soft, the sort of voice nobody else ever heard from her.
Kyouka stared at the cup.
Waiting.
Knowing nothing would happen.
Still waiting.
The silence that followed felt familiar.
Almost comfortable.
"You always said it tasted better when it belonged to someone else."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You were an idiot."
The smile faded almost immediately.
The cemetery remained quiet.
Only the wind answered.
Kyouka wrapped both hands around her own cup.
The warmth seeped into her fingers.
Not enough.
"I saw a Cleaner the other day. From your team"
Her gaze remained fixed on the gravestone.
"He reminded me of you."
The confession came easier than expected. Perhaps because there was nobody left to hear it.
"He was reckless."
A pause.
"Annoying."
Another pause.
"He argued with everything he was told."
A tiny laugh escaped her.
"I almost arrested him."
The laugh faded.
"I think you would've liked him."
The silence returned.
Kyouka took a sip of tea.
The warmth settled in her chest.
Briefly.
Then disappeared.
The wind shifted, and a few loose leaves drifted across the cemetery.
Kyouka watched them travel.
Then looked back at your name.
The words escaped before she could stop them.
"I miss you." She whispered like a prayer.
The truth rarely needed decoration.
Her grip tightened around the cup. Not enough to break it anymore like before, just enough to remind herself she was still holding something.
Still here.
Still alive.
Unlike you.
The thought hurt.
Even now.
Especially now.
Because time hadn't changed anything.
It had only given her more opportunities to realize how much was missing.
You should've been here.
Arguing with her.
Talking to her.
Existing.
Instead, there was only stone and memory.
Kyouka lowered her eyes.
"I keep expecting to see you." The admission came quietly. "I know it's stupid."
She laughed softly.
"Every time I pass Cleaner headquarters."
Another laugh.
Smaller this time.
"Every time I hear someone yelling."
The smile faded.
"Every time someone does something reckless."
The words slowed.
"I still look."
Her throat tightened.
"And for a second..."
The sentence trailed off.
Because she couldn't finish it.
For a second she forgot.
For a second she expected you to be there.
Then reality returned.
Every time.
Without fail.
The disappointment never became easier.
Kyouka stared at the tea resting atop your gravestone.
Steam still curled from its surface.
But not as much as before.
The warmth was fading.
Slowly and inevitably.
She found herself watching it mesmerized as though the tea represented something important.
Perhaps it did.
The last remnants of warmth.
The final traces of something alive.
Gone little by little.
Until nothing remained.
"You know..." She exhaled quietly. "There was a time when I thought I'd convince you."
The memory surfaced unexpectedly.
Countless arguments.
Countless conversations.
Countless attempts to recruit you.
At the time she'd convinced herself it was practical.
Logical.
Professional.
Now she knew better.
Now there was nobody left to lie to.
"I wasn't trying to recruit you."
Her eyes remained on the gravestone.
The confession emerged in pieces.
Slowly.
Painfully.
"I told myself I was."
A bitter smile appeared.
"But that wasn't it."
The realization had taken months.
Months of sleepless nights.
Months of staring at ceilings.
Months of reliving conversations.
Eventually she'd understood.
She'd wanted you close. That was all.
Not because of your abilities, not because of your potential. Just because you were you.
And she had wanted more time.
More conversations.
More arguments.
More days.
More years.
She swallowed.
Hard.
"I was selfish."
The words sounded strange.
Kyouka rarely admitted fault.
Especially not aloud.
Yet here she was, speaking to a gravestone. Confessing things she'd never managed to say while you were alive.
"I wanted to keep you where I could see you." The wind brushed against her hair, making her appear almost gentle. "I thought if you joined the Hell Guard..."
Her smile became sad.
"...then maybe I'd stop worrying."
The laugh that followed held no amusement.
As though that would've changed anything.
As though she'd ever stop worrying about you.
The thought was absurd.
She would've worried forever.
And now she would never get the chance.
The tea continued cooling.
The steam was almost gone.
Kyouka watched it disappear.
Then she spoke again, this time quieter.
More vulnerable.
"I think about impossible things." A long silence followed "I think about another life."
The words felt ridiculous.
She wasn't someone who believed in fantasies, she never had been.
But grief had a way of creating strange hopes.
Tiny impossible hopes.
The kind people clung to when reality wasn't enough.
Kyouka stared at the horizon.
At the sunlight spilling across the cemetery.
At the peaceful afternoon neither of you had earned.
And she imagined it.
Another world.
Another life.
One where neither of you carried weapons.
One where neither of you wore uniforms.
One where there were no Trash Beasts.
No Hell Guard.
No Cleaners.
No No Man's Land.
No final arguments.
No graves.
Just life.
An ordinary life.
The kind most people ignored, the kind she'd once considered boring.
Now it sounded perfect.
In her mind, she could almost see it.
A small house.
Nothing extravagant.
A kitchen, a table, a window that let sunlight inside, you standing there.
Complaining about something insignificant.
Probably her.
Definitely her.
The thought made her smile.
A real smile this time.
Small.
Fragile.
Beau
I had an atrocious day at work, so y'all gotta suffer with me. Gotta get group bonding in somehow
Tag Game: Ten People You'd Like to Get to Know Better
Thank you for the tag @insertmeaningfulusername!!! Been a while since I played tag games :)
Last Song: Obsessed with Po Atarau by Turakina Maori Girls' Choir! Also been listening to Chernikovskaya Hata a lot lately
Currently Watching: Just finished Maul: The Shadow Lord :)) And before that The Pitt!
Current Obsession: Space. The usual but PHM really REALLY made the obsession bar rise
Currently Reading: Re-reading Republic Commando Triple Zero by Caren Traviss because I kinda need the Coruscant vibe specifically for my current RP
Currently Working On: Some mermay sketches........... Still on planning stage tho (the may is almost over)
Currently Wearing: Summer PJs! Black T-shirt and shorts SHARKS THEMED YAY
Last Google Search: "normal magnesium level in the blood" spoiler alert mine turned out to be far from normal
Favourite Flower: I actually do not really have a fave-fave flower BUT I do fancy sunflowers! And dandelions but the fun thing is I'm allergic to dandelions
TAGS no pressure ofc!!!: @cyentherebel and turns out I'm out of mutuals I interact with on any basis. So! Feel free to join if you stumble upon this post!
Current obsession: uni fried my brain and there's hardly any place for obsessions now, still, Fullmetal Alchemist would be currently the closest thing to an obsession
Currently reading: The Midnight Girls by Alicja Jasińska
Currently working on: My master's thesis. I wish I could stop reading about phloem in Norway spruce. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to do that
Currently wearning: forest green T-shirt with frogs, olive green loose trousers, mint green socks
Last google search: Temporal and spatial variability of phloem structure in Picea abies and Fagus sylvatica and its link to climate (had to check something in specific article)
Favorite flower: Don't have a pecific favorite flower. We have some nice snapdragons on our field now, so currently maybe that
NPTs: @totallywizard07, @niobiumao3, @kyraltre and anyone who wants to join.
currently watching: uuhhhh like 20 shows at the same time but the last one was Hell's paradise
current obsession: Gachiakuta (suprise bitches) oohh also Death note actually
currently reading: bro js as before like 15 things and switching between them but last thing i read today was a chap of frieren OH and a friend is borrowing me their entire Kaiju No 8 manga volumes sooo that too
currently working on: Oh shit when?(Janka hospital AU (not sure bout the name still)) ANDDD janka medieval AU
currently wearing: my training top with no bra and the comfiest thinnest sweatpants that exist, my hair in a massive curly bun on my head barely held together by my big ass satin scrunchie lmaooo
last search: where is one piece baby now
favorite flower: DEF LILLIES, LIKE WHITE BIG LILLIES or dark red Lillies
I feel like teen! Kyoka and her beloved's relationship (early stages or the period of understanding their feelings for each other) would sound like "Girl so confusing by Charlixcx"
The Human Form Beyond Pornography: Why Nudity Is Not Inherently Sexual
NOTES: Please note that I will be providing the drawing that sparked the debate, if you're uncomfortable with artistic nudity– please scroll away! This was the essay I was yapping about on this post
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
Throughout history, the human body has occupied a central place in art, philosophy, religion, medicine, and culture. From ancient sculpture to Renaissance painting, from anatomical studies to modern photography, artists and thinkers have repeatedly returned to the nude form as a means of understanding humanity itself. Yet despite this long tradition, modern society often treats nudity as inherently pornographic or obscene. In contemporary culture, especially within highly commercialized and media-saturated environments, the naked body is frequently interpreted first through the lens of sexuality rather than through artistic, emotional, intellectual, or symbolic meaning. As a result, artistic nudity is often misunderstood, dismissed, or reduced to erotic intent regardless of the creator’s purpose.
This tendency to automatically sexualize all nudity reflects not an objective truth about the body itself, but rather a culturally conditioned interpretation shaped by social values, commercial media, historical anxieties, and evolving standards of morality. While nudity can certainly carry erotic meaning in some contexts, the mere presence of an unclothed body does not make an image pornographic. Meaning in visual art is determined by intention, presentation, context, symbolism, and interpretation rather than by physical exposure alone. To equate all nudity with pornography is therefore intellectually reductive, historically inaccurate, and aesthetically limiting. Such a perspective collapses the complexity of artistic expression into a singular interpretation centered exclusively on sexuality.
The distinction between nudity and pornography begins with artistic intent. Pornography is generally created with the primary purpose of eliciting sexual arousal. Its central focus is stimulation. Artistic nudity, however, may pursue entirely different aims. An artist may depict the nude form in order to study anatomy, communicate vulnerability, explore mortality, portray emotional honesty, examine identity, or express aesthetic beauty. The nude figure has long been used as a vehicle for symbolic and philosophical ideas that extend far beyond eroticism. The exposure of the body itself is therefore insufficient to determine whether a work is pornographic because the same visual subject may carry radically different meanings depending upon the purpose behind its creation.
This distinction becomes clearer when considering contexts in which nudity is universally accepted as non-pornographic. Medical textbooks contain detailed depictions of naked bodies for educational purposes. Figure drawing classes in art academies rely on nude models so that students may accurately study proportion, musculature, posture, shadow, and form. Museums around the world display nude sculptures and paintings as works of cultural and historical significance rather than as objects of obscenity. In these contexts, viewers are not expected to interpret the body primarily as a sexual object because the surrounding framework changes the meaning of what is being observed. This demonstrates that nudity itself is not inherently pornographic; rather, interpretation depends heavily upon context and intention.
The importance of context in determining meaning is one of the strongest arguments against the automatic sexualization of nudity. In virtually every other form of communication, context shapes interpretation. A knife in a kitchen carries a different meaning than a knife in an assault. Fire in a fireplace differs from fire in an act of destruction. Tears may represent grief, relief, joy, or manipulation depending on circumstance. Images function similarly. A nude figure in a Renaissance painting operates differently from explicit commercial adult content because the surrounding artistic language, symbolism, composition, and purpose alter the viewer’s understanding of the image. To ignore context entirely and reduce all nudity to pornography is therefore inconsistent with how meaning operates in broader human communication.
Furthermore, the assumption that nudity is inherently sexual is not universal across cultures or historical periods. Human societies have understood and represented the body in profoundly different ways throughout history. In ancient Greece, the nude body was often associated with athletic excellence, heroism, ideal proportion, and philosophical harmony. Greek sculptors depicted nude figures not merely to provoke desire but to celebrate the human form as an embodiment of balance, strength, and beauty. Classical sculpture influenced countless later artistic traditions and helped establish the nude as one of the highest forms of artistic study.
Similarly, Renaissance artists revived the classical tradition of depicting the nude body as a reflection of both aesthetic perfection and spiritual significance. Works such as David and The Birth of Venus continue to be studied not because they are pornographic, but because they represent milestones in artistic achievement, symbolism, anatomy, and visual storytelling. The bodies in these works are not merely objects of sexual consumption; they are vehicles for broader themes involving divinity, mythology, humanism, courage, innocence, and idealized beauty. To categorize such works solely through the lens of sexuality would erase much of their artistic and historical significance.
Different cultural attitudes toward nudity further demonstrate that reactions to the body are socially conditioned rather than biologically fixed. Certain indigenous societies historically treated partial or full nudity as ordinary rather than scandalous. Communal bathing traditions in some cultures normalize non-sexual exposure of the body. Public breastfeeding, for example, remains accepted in many parts of the world despite controversy in others. These variations reveal that responses to nudity are shaped by learned cultural frameworks rather than by an inherent truth that nakedness must always signify sexuality or obscenity.
Modern commercial media has also played a significant role in conditioning contemporary audiences to interpret nudity primarily through erotic frameworks. Advertising, entertainment industries, and online platforms frequently use sexual imagery to attract attention and generate profit. Because the body is so often commodified, many viewers begin to associate nudity almost exclusively with desire, consumption, and arousal. Over time, this conditioning can narrow public perception until the body itself becomes inseparable from sexual expectation. However, the prevalence of sexualized imagery in media does not prove that nudity is inherently sexual; rather, it demonstrates how repeated cultural messaging can shape interpretation.
This phenomenon has important consequences for both art and society. When every nude image is automatically sexualized, the body itself becomes difficult to represent honestly outside the framework of desire. Artistic explorations of vulnerability, mortality, suffering, or identity may be dismissed before viewers engage with their deeper meaning. Such reductionism limits artistic freedom because creators may feel pressured to avoid the nude form altogether in order to prevent misunderstanding or censorship. In this way, the automatic equation of nudity with pornography impoverishes artistic discourse by narrowing the range of acceptable representation.
Moreover, the compulsive sexualization of the body may contribute to objectification more than artistic nudity itself. Objectification occurs when a person is reduced primarily to their usefulness for another’s pleasure or consumption. Ironically, insisting that every nude figure must be interpreted sexually encourages viewers to perceive bodies primarily through erotic value. Artistic nudity, by contrast, often attempts to restore humanity, complexity, and individuality to the body. A nude portrait may communicate exhaustion, sorrow, confidence, age, fragility, or emotional openness. In such works, the body is not reduced to an object of desire but presented as part of the broader human experience.
The distinction between objectification and representation is therefore crucial. Pornography often isolates and emphasizes the body specifically for stimulation, whereas artistic nudity may integrate the body into emotional, symbolic, or philosophical narratives. The nude figure in fine art frequently functions not as a sexual invitation but as an expression of honesty and exposure. Clothing itself carries social meanings related to class, profession, status, religion, and identity. To remove clothing in art can symbolize vulnerability, authenticity, equality, mortality, or freedom from social constraints. The nude body may therefore communicate truths about humanity that clothed representation cannot express as directly.
This idea becomes especially apparent in works dealing with suffering or mortality. Throughout art history, depictions of the naked body have often emphasized human fragility rather than eroticism. Images of aging, illness, grief, or physical imperfection challenge idealized notions of beauty and force viewers to confront realities shared by all human beings. Such representations are often deeply uncomfortable precisely because they resist sexualization. They remind viewers that the body is not merely an object of pleasure but also a site of vulnerability, decay, and mortality.
The automatic classification of nudity as pornographic also raises important philosophical questions about the viewer’s role in creating meaning. Art does not exist solely within the object itself; interpretation emerges through interaction between artwork and observer. Different viewers may respond to the same image in dramatically different ways depending on personal experiences, beliefs, cultural background, and psychological conditioning. If one individual interprets every nude figure sexually while another perceives emotional vulnerability or aesthetic form, the discrepancy reveals that meaning cannot reside entirely in nudity itself. Instead, interpretation is partly projected by the viewer.
This does not mean that all interpretations are equally valid or that artistic intent is irrelevant. Rather, it suggests that viewers bear some responsibility for how they engage with visual material. A society conditioned to commodify bodies may struggle to encounter nudity without sexual assumptions, but this difficulty reflects cultural habits rather than universal truths. To recognize this is not to condemn sexuality itself. Sexuality is a natural and significant aspect of human existence. Erotic art has existed throughout history and possesses legitimate artistic value in its own right. The issue arises only when sexuality becomes the exclusive lens through which all nudity is interpreted.
A balanced perspective therefore acknowledges that nudity can carry erotic meaning while rejecting the claim that eroticism is inevitable in every instance of bodily exposure. Some artistic works intentionally blur boundaries between sensuality and aesthetics, and some nude art may indeed invite desire as part of its purpose. However, the possibility of sexual interpretation does not justify reducing all representations of the body to pornography. Human experience is too complex to be collapsed into a single category.
The tendency to treat nudity as inherently obscene also reveals deeper social discomfort surrounding the body itself. Many modern societies maintain contradictory attitudes toward physicality. Violent imagery is often widely tolerated in entertainment, while non-sexual nudity generates controversy or censorship. This inconsistency suggests that the issue is not exposure alone but cultural anxiety surrounding embodiment, sexuality, vulnerability, and morality. The naked body reminds viewers of their shared humanity, mortality, and physical existence in ways that can feel psychologically intimate or unsettling. As a result, societies often regulate nudity more aggressively than violence despite the fact that the body itself is natural and universal.
Religious and moral traditions have also influenced attitudes toward nudity across centuries. In some contexts, the body became associated with temptation, shame, or sin, contributing to stricter norms regarding modesty and exposure. While such traditions remain meaningful for many individuals, they represent specific moral frameworks rather than objective definitions of art. A pluralistic society must therefore distinguish between personal moral preferences and universal artistic judgments. Individuals may choose to avoid nude imagery for religious or ethical reasons without claiming that all nudity is inherently pornographic.
The preservation of artistic freedom depends partly upon maintaining this distinction. Art has historically challenged social assumptions, expanded emotional understanding, and explored difficult aspects of human existence. Restricting artistic representation solely because it includes nudity risks undermining the broader purpose of art itself. Many of the world’s most influential artistic achievements involve nude figures precisely because the body serves as one of the most direct and expressive symbols available to human beings. To censor or dismiss such works automatically would impoverish cultural and intellectual life.
At the same time, defending artistic nudity does not require denying the existence of exploitation or harmful representation. Nude imagery can certainly become objectifying, manipulative, or degrading depending on how bodies are portrayed and consumed. Criticism of exploitative media is both legitimate and necessary. However, acknowledging harmful forms of sexualization should not lead to the conclusion that all nudity is inherently degrading or pornographic. The ethical evaluation of art requires attention to context, agency, intention, and meaning rather than simplistic assumptions based solely on bodily exposure.
Ultimately, the human body exists prior to the meanings societies attach to it. It is the fundamental condition of human life, shared across cultures, eras, and identities. Artistic engagement with the body reflects humanity’s attempt to understand itself physically, emotionally, spiritually, and philosophically. To insist that all nudity is pornographic is to impose a singular interpretation upon something infinitely more complex. Such a view ignores history, disregards cultural variation, oversimplifies artistic intention, and limits the possibilities of human expression.
Nudity is not inherently pornographic because pornography is defined not by exposure alone but by purpose, context, and interpretation. Artistic representations of the body can communicate vulnerability, beauty, mortality, strength, suffering, identity, and emotional truth without existing primarily for sexual arousal. The automatic sexualization of all nudity reflects cultural conditioning rather than objective reality. A mature and intellectually consistent understanding of art must therefore recognize the distinction between the human body as an object of consumption and the human body as a subject of artistic, emotional, and philosophical exploration. By preserving that distinction, society allows art to remain expansive enough to represent the full complexity of human existence rather than reducing the body to a single narrow meaning.
I do apologize for how informal this is!! I just needed to blow off steam
Taglist: @tsillyy
Please DO NOT repurpose my work or feed into AI, I do not own any of my dividers besides my character ones.
How Übel is with an extroverted girlfriend – headcanons
NOTES: This is low-key a bit out of my comfort zone, so please don't crucify me if I do her horribly dirty I've never written for her before🙏 I've genuinely never been so scared to write for sm1 before. Also I'm writing this at 3am and letting this queue because I won't remember to post this
CONTENT: Übel x fem!reader, likely ooc!übel, no use of y/n, how the relationship between you two starts, what she does in the relationship, how she treats the reader, handholding, kissing, not beta/proof read per usual, like 0 plot
WORD COUNT: 300ish words, sorry it's short!
REQUESTED BY AND DEDICATED TO: 🥀anon
finds you interesting as she doesn't understand you fully yet
You'd likely be one of the only people who talks to her normally instead of cautiously
She gets attached through observation first
After a few months of chatting frequently, you realize something may be a tad off when Übel somehow always knows where you are, appears beside you randomly, remembers every single small thing you say, etc
0% she's romantic. She probably knows how, but it wouldn't happen. The relationship would become official in a very unromantic way
Once you're dating, she's weirdly attentive
She's definitely the type to stare at you while you speak. Like, hardly blinking and all
It's canon but your habits frighteningly quickly
Lowkey follows you around like a cat that imprinted on someone
Gets irritated when other people monopolize your attention for too long
She's absolutely fascinated with you
You give her endless things to observe and she loves it
She likes sitting nearby while you talk to people because she enjoys watching her expressions change as well as learning about them
You'd likely catch Übel staring directly at you after you're done speaking with someone
Übel LOVES when you drag her into social situations
She's probably not too casually affectionate, but seeing how people seem to gravitate towards you– she's a quick learner
When she does hold your hand, Übel absolutely prefers interlocked fingers
She acts neutral about PDA but never lets go first
Kisses from Übel feel intense because she gives them her full attention
For sure studies your reactions while kissing you
She's not overly aggressive with affection, but is very focused when she does
If you're the affectionate type, übel grows a tad (very) spoiled in the relationship and expects it most the time
You're the one person she never wants to stop learning
While writing this I am drunk so I deeply apologize for any errors
Taglist: @neluvias , @i-heartdinos , @n4tsukis
Please DO NOT repurpose my work or feed into AI, I do not own any of my dividers besides my character ones.
