I look shitty bc I was really nervous when I saw them but ME AND THE REAPERS!!! I was so happy I almost fainted
Hisagi Suuhei from Bleach. Bankai.
I drawned it with MediBang. There are 3 version (normal, geen reiatsu and blue reiatsu.)
deathnote//how to kill a shinigami
Síganme en Instagram @SaschaRedmoon
I know it’s horrible, but I love Grell very much.
Ryuk loves Nintendo games and I think he’d make a great pokémon trainer! (That is, given that he’ll manage to hold back from eating his own pokémon…)
Dry erase Nu.
Gaaaaaah I wish I could get them all 😭
William T Spears after weeks of lockdown just gave up on combing and has almost a mullet and bangs. To which he ties in a samaurai ponytail
Ryuk & me!
Made with mechanical pencil only!
Karai: I have an excellent gaydar, I can determine if a person is gay or not with just a glance.
Mikey: Shinigami has been in love with you for years.
Karai: SHE WHAT?!
Illustration for fun.
The nightshift was almost coming to an end. Gwenhwyfar looked at her watch, and still, there were at least three more hours to scape the hospital for a while. The shifts were no longer as they used to. Lately, since January, all the doctors available in London were working an incredible amount of extra hours to fulfil the medical needs in this war that they were battling against an invisible villain. The pandemic was at its peak, and there was nothing more than desolation, illness and death around. Even the smell in the air had changed in the last few months. It was the smell of despair, tiredness and loneliness.
Gwenhwyfar was breaking down. In all the years that she had been an intensive care physician, she had never imagined that things would turn out this way—whole days of work without rest in the service of others. Of course, she loved her job, and if she had to choose it, she would do it over and over again without hesitation. Still, disappointment and anguish were ahead of her. Just a few hours ago, she had lost not one, but five patients and those had only been a few of those in her care. Her co-workers weren’t doing much better: they all had lost someone that night, and none had time even to mourn them, and that was simply heartbreaking. Genwheyfar, or Genna as she called herself, in all her years of study and practice, had learned that she did not have to get involved or grew fond of her patients. However, for her, that was a daunting task. She knew that many of her patients would die; it was inevitable. But, who was she to deny them the last goodbye, the final caress, or the last hug to the relatives? Even if it was dangerous to her emotional well-being, she couldn’t help it. She had chosen to save lives but also to accompany them in their last breath, it was not her role, but from the depths of her being, she knew that she had no choice. And this was precisely what ailed her the most. It was not the endless hours of work, nor the personal protective equipment that she had to wear to protect herself from the virus that plagued the world, that she had to change after each patient with meticulous care to not contaminate anything around her. No. Her greatest sorrow was not being able to touch her patients, being unable to comfort them, see them die alone and without even their closest relatives.
The virus was relentless, and what began as just a flu that very little was known about it ended up being one of the toughest pandemics in history. Genna had read and studied others; she knew the symptoms, the consequences, and the causes, she never believed that in her time, she would witness such devastation. She looked at her watch again, there were still two hours left before her shift ended, she would be worth a short break since the staff was not enough. She knew she would have to return to the cold corridors of the hospital as soon as possible. She could barely catch her breath back lost in the twenty hours she had been working non-stop. Many of her colleagues had already been victims of the infamous COVID-19. Many were in intensive care, and many others had also lost their lives as loyal health soldiers on the battlefront.
It was too much, Genna sighed while walking through the corridors, she had signed up one more patient among hundreds: male, 25 years old, pneumonia, infected with COVID just three days ago, the respirator was inevitable. She had heard that in other places, ventilators for patients were insufficient, that doctors had to choose who to attend and who not. She was glad that this was not the case: at least in St. Barts, for the moment the technical resources were not insufficient. Genna stood in front of the stretcher. The young man was breathing only thanks to the artificial respirator; her colleagues had done a good job there. The boy was only a little younger than her and yet there he was, lying on a bed, mechanically assisted and in a coma. What would that guy’s life be if all this wasn’t happening? So young and so helpless at the same time. She read the medical chart and was glad that at least the young man was healthy and had no pre-existing diseases; hopefully, he would have a chance. She watched him a moment longer and walked to another stretcher. In front of her, her colleague watched with resignation.
“She is not gonna make it, right?” Genna asked almost whispering.
“Genna, is that you?” An older woman asked.
“Yeah, under all this equipment, at least” Genna responded, pointing at her medical suit.
“No, she is not going to make it; it’s a matter of time.” The other doctor said tiredly.
“Hmm,” Gwenheyfar nod, “Does she has anybody?” she finished.
“It doesn’t make any difference”. The older stated.
“It’s just too much” Genna spoke almost silently.
“Suppress your tears pet. There is nothing we can do, we have just to go on”.
“I guess… How do you do it anyway?” The young doctor asked.
“Look Genna, you look awful, why don’t you take a break? The shift is almost over; nobody is going anywhere nor notice your short absence.” The older woman suggested while checking the low vitals of the lady on the bed. Genna nodded and slowly walked away from intensive care.
After taking off all the protective equipment, Genna went up to the hospital terrace, the cold wind hit her cheeks briefly shooing her. Once she had made sure that nobody was there, she removed the chinstrap that she now wore almost 24 hours a day and absentmindedly stroked the marks that it had left on her face. She lit a cigarette and smiled wryly to herself: if any of her patients could saw her now. Curiously she walked to the edge of the terrace to stand on the railing that separated the roof from the total void. She took a drag on his cigarette and blew out the smoke slightly. It was too much, exhaustion and madness surrounded her, she looked down and closed her eyes for a moment. How easy it would be to jump.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, dear~ You very much need it right now~.” And a soft giggle got lost in the winter night.
I would love to know what you think. This is also posted in others platforms, so in doubts don’t be shy and talk to me.