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#the abnormal becomes the new normal
awesomecooperlove · 9 months
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💯💯💯
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ystrike1 · 1 month
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Until I drowned in Fujitani-san's love and care - Douge Konome (8.5/10)
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A happy and devoted yandere, with an equally happy partner! It's wholesome in a dark way! He definitely stalked her after she broke up with him, but that's ok! It was all a misunderstanding! She was just insecure!
Chiho is young and inexperienced. Her first ever boyfriend is perfect, great in bed, polite, handsome and a little older than her. She's also pretty. Her life is perfect!
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Wait it's not? There's a time skip and they're no longer dating. She meets him again at her new company. What a strange coincidence.
He's back in her life, and she misses him.
She does regret leaving him.
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She had so much fun with him, but Chiho is insecure in a very normal and believable way.
She wasn't sure if she was ready for a serious relationship.
She knew Fujitani was more mature than her and she was afraid he would become dissatisfied with her.
These are ugly thoughts but they're to be expected when you enter your first relationship.
After all, marrying your first means you never get to play the field or explore your own preferences.
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Fujitani can be intense too. He likes taking care of her needs, but she has a career path in mind and she's not sure....she's just not sure if she can handle the stress of being dependent on someone.
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She's the one who ended it, and he didn’t fight with her....because he's a mature man.
He didn’t even ask her why.
She just left.
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She dated around, but it wasn't what she expected. She didn't learn new things or find a less mature, more fun type of love experience.
She just found men who cared less.
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Fujitani confronts her pretty much immediately. He's been waiting for her to come back to him. He knew the other guys were just flings, but Chiho hasn't come back yet.
Now he's out hunting.
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He invites her into his new home. It's HER dream home. He made her a princess closet and he built her dream kitchen.
His sexual preferences aren't too abnormal but he does want Chiho to behave like a doll at home. He knows she enjoys it, and he also accepts that she wanted to explore her options a bit...but he's the best option and he's confident about it.
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He even picks her perfume and shampoo.
He sees acts of service as pure love.
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The doll play is more extreme, but Chiho has made her choice. She missed Fujitani-san's love, and she doesn’t want him to get away either.
Thinking about him moving on and getting another doll makes her mad, so she let's him take control. BUT she's fully aware that he has needs too. Needs that can't be fulfilled without her. It seems like they have a mostly equal partnership, and they get along great even when they aren't indulging in doll play.
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diejager · 10 months
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Crow
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Pairing: Monster TF 141 + Horangi & König x Eldritch horror!reader
Cw: blood, gore, canon-typical violence, injury, mutilation, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.9k
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They hadn’t expected to have another specialist join them, none of them even knew what Price had in mind when he brought you in. You were normal in every way - as normal as a soldier could be - and unassuming under your dark clothes and gear. You smiled and waved when greeted, you took orders well and you spoke when spoken. You were like a ghost, there but also not there, invincible unless you made a sound or movement. Excluding all they saw in you, you were simply uncanny, with weird mannerisms and habits that made you seem inhuman - as inhuman as you could be to hybrids. 
The only words Price had given them before you landed were: “They’re good at what they do, just don’t cause any trouble, understood?”
They were vague and as unassuming as you first seemed, like any warning for any person that could easily become annoyed or mad. Ghost certainly hadn’t put much thought into it as he should. Gaz had elbowed Soap in an attempt at reminding the werewolf to heed their captain’s words. Rudy and Alejandro wouldn’t have to worry, they knew and learned the limits of any man’s patience, smart and intuitive. Horangi was as weary as he would with any new addition, eyes narrowed in annoyance and curiosity. Unlike any of them, König hid any emotions from his stoic face, shoulders broad and back ramrod that emphasised his height and broadness, he couldn’t be sure if you would be easy to ignore or irritable.
Granted, they all had expectations for you since Price seemed so proud and confident when you first joined them, acting like a child given his dream, famished to have you by his side as professionals as possible. Yet here you were, normal looking, of average height and average weight, and simply there. Although there wasn’t anything inherently abnormal to you, the simple presence of your being made their hair stand on end. There wasn’t any reason to be so frightened or chilled about you, you hadn’t done anything deserving of such fear and suspicion, and Price trusted you with his life. If he trusted you, then the rest could, no? After all, dragons are the most protective of monsters. 
As Price promised, you were good at what you did, never a flinch, never any hesitation, never a moment of weakness. You were too normal and good to be a human, especially not with the way corvids flocked to you. Ravens, crows, magpies and jackdaws followed you everywhere you went, simply standing or cawing around you as if you were a memener of their murder. Going to London would be dreadful with how many corvids called the British Isles their home, which - coincidentally - was where you lived. 
All but Price had a hard time forming a bond with you, your eerie presence made it difficult to relax, and apparently, you knew it as well, since they had an equally difficult time finding you on the base. If you weren’t beating a sand-filled punching bag, you would be at the shooting range, and if you weren’t there, then you’d be somewhere on the roof of a structure, taking in the cool, stormy air of the UK with your bird friends. 
You only smiled when they all blew up in cackles and jokes, never laughing with them or cracking your own jokes. Your voice never raised over a certain point, a murmur or a raspy growl. It was either human or inhuman to you. If Soap, Gaz and Rudy were having a hard time making you open up to them, then the rest would have an even harder time doing so. They were failing miserably. 
That was until Soap caught an airy chuckle from you when he passed Price’s office, the older man having probably said something amusing to you which had you laughing. And as loud and rowdy the werewolf was, he couldn’t stop himself from telling the others, his excitement and enthusiasm bleeding into the rest. It had somehow made them more determined to bond with you, you were, after months of work, a permanent member of Task Force 141. 
Unfortunately, the most they got were snorts and huffs, snorts from Ghost’s dark humour and huffs from Soap and Gaz’s poorly made-up jokes, theatrical performances of failures and defeat in the face of an unflinching and unusual being. Questions started piling up on Price’s desk, wanting to know if you were human, if you were a hybrid, if you were a monster, if you were even a living being seeing as you hadn’t taken a single breath or eaten (not that they’d seen you eat.). 
“That’s classified, ” Price stopped their musing with two simple words. “Unless they tell you themselves, I don’t think it’s any of my business divulging that to anyone.”
Price’s secrecy and respect for you only sowed the seeds of curiosity and intrigue deeper. What had you hidden from them that was so classified that Price couldn’t tell them? Even Alejandro didn’t have the clearance to dive into your files - not that there were any. The question lingered in their minds, unanswered and famished for one: What were you?
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Somehow they’d gotten separated from you, being caught under heavy fire from Russian ultranationalists and backed into a building with most exits blocked or surrounded by the enemy. They worried about you, being left to yourself in a situation like this one was dangerous for even the most skilled and wary soldier. Whereas they all had their backs, one watching for the other, you were alone. And whereas you had the possibility of using your powers of shifting - if you were a hybrid or monster, they still hadn’t found the answer to that question - they were in the confines of a restricted building, letting loose would either damage the already-damaged-building or become a danger to their own teammates. 
Ghost’s fog was deadly. Soap could come under fire from them shooting. Gaz couldn’t fly freely in a tight place. Price’s fire could be devastating. Rudy couldn’t risk getting tired. Alejandro could be unknowingly shot by them. König was uncontrollable and unpredictable. Horangi was a danger to himself in the secret of darkness.  
They were fucked, caught in a dire situation that could mean the end of them, but regret and panic wouldn’t be of any use to them, they had to concentrate and wait for backup. 
“Backup from what, Price?!” 
What could possibly reach them in time to support them? They were too far in for any help to arrive quickly enough. The closest naval ship was thousands of miles away, the closest ocean was hundreds of miles away and any military support even farther. What would they even be waiting for?
“Cap! We can’t-”
A scream shattered the skies, howls of pain and panic filling the once booming sound of foreign guns. The sound of bodies being broken and bones cracking brought their attention elsewhere. The Russians weren’t aiming at them anymore, shooting at something bigger and more dangerous than any of them. They were looking at a creature that picked them off one by one, the shadow of a monster covering the white snow. The fear in their eyes tainted the sky as their blood sullied the fresh snow, turning white into red and pink.
Whatever that was was dangerous. The ability to rip men apart and incite terror into well-trained and hardened soldiers was anything but amiable, safe and good. Their bodies were tense, muscles contracted to move at the flicker of movement from the monster outside the building. Their weapons aimed towards the entrance, fingers laying restlessly on the trigger and shoulder screwed with suspense as the screams and cries slowly died down to howling winds in the night. 
Price raised a hand, holding them back from firing at the entity, they lowered their guns, following the captain as he walked towards the door. He hadn’t flinched or froze when clawed fingers gripped the wide opening, a giant, black hand cloaked with feathers. Another landed on the ground farther away, letting them see the blood staining the show, seeping from its fingers and dirty feathers. With a low rumble from the beast, it lowered its head to the doorway, where Price had stopped. 
He smiled at the gigantic head of a crown, its black beak sharpened with pointed teeth, as black as its skin and feathers. An oval eye blinked at them, white as the snow and piercing as the cold. It sent chills down their spines, ready to jump away if it attacked, but Price patted the skin under its eye.
“Thank you,” Price spoke your name so reverently, thanking it - you - with a grateful smile and proud eyes.
That monster - it - was you, the unassuming, perfect and eerie human. You, who was always around corvids, were one yourself, albeit a gigantic, crooked version of a crow. You crooned at Price’s touch, soft and loving like he was. You moved away from the entrance and they left. It was as if they walked into another world, blood, bones and guts littered the ground, as if a cat had had its fun with something breakable. Ghost and König thrived in this scene, the blood and gore feeding them. Unlike the rest that either recoiled or stared off, preferring to look at your bird-like form than the ground. 
In all your glory, you stood high and mightily, toppling over the trees by hundreds of metres. Covered head to toe in black skin and black, glistening feathers, you held your head high to look at the Russian field. Four horns curled over your head, sprouting from your crown and curling at the tip, they mimicked a crown of bone. Bones also grew from your back, the protrusion of your vertebrae growing along your back like a ridge, sharp and deadly, like the sharp-looking feathers that protected your back. If any of that were shocking then your second pair of wings would be frightening, an equally big pair of wings help support your weight on the ground, besides two legs, clawed perfectly to inflict lethal damage. And at the end of your back, a flared, serpentine tail with feathers curled upwards.
While Price acted with such ease and comfort around you, the rest simply couldn’t. If they were bothered by your presence before, now, after having shifted and showed your true skin, it grew tenfold, becoming unbearable and suffocating. You saw their discomfort, cooing at them before you shrunk, bone and feathers sinking back under your skin, your beak turning into the face they knew, but your white eyes remained. It was all knowing and powerful.
You were an Eldritch being, an all-knowing and powerful creature, perhaps one of the last horrors that lived. It made sense why Price was so trusting of you, believing you to be unable to betray them. Why he warned all of them to never stray into your hate and annoyance. Eldritch horrors, after all, were the strongest beings alive (if they could be called alive), old as aeons and unmoving by time. Dragons were second to them, the proud and respectable monsters knowing the worth of Eldritch creatures and respecting them. 
Everything fell into place. It clicked, why everything was simply so. Perhaps, after knowing your secret, you’d open up to them, let them in your colossal and dark and unbeating heart.
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Taglist: @saelkie @yeoldedumbslut
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wren-kitchens · 1 month
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so shiver, but shiver with a friend
1034 words
the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 
this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world
this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic
btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!
the boat is creaking.
that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.
but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.
anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.
there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?
overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-
to find..
well, she's not sure what she's found.
"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.
except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.
"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.
"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."
gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"
"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"
"uh huh."
"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"
"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"
something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."
gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"
a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.
"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"
scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.
before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.
"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.
gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.
scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."
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myjealouseyes · 7 months
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You Are In Love.
Harry James Potter x wolfstar!daughter!reader
Fluff, friends to lovers, pining, cuddling. (References to the lyrics are in bold)
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Your friends and Harry’s have made themselves comfortable in your room. beanbags, pillows, and a few pieces of salty microwave popcorn scattered across the floor as some old gory horror movie plays on the TV. You stopped paying attention a while ago, being more concerned with your popcorn and how warm Harry’s skin felt on yours as you leaned on his shoulder; his arm wrapped around your waist.
You feel his eyes on you. His intense gaze nearly burns a hole in the top of your head. As you turn your head up quietly to see what's wrong he takes your chin into his hand. Your throat goes dry and you feel your hands get clammy. The churning you get in your stomach is new, it’s exciting, it's nothing like you’ve felt before. “Look up,” Harry mumbles as he raises your chin. He swipes a small piece of popcorn off the side of your cheek with his thumb and lets his hand fall back in his lap. Your eyes follow it.
Your heart speeds up and time slows down. Your eyes stay fixed on his hand. One touch was all it was. A single brush, nothing abnormal compared to how touchy you two usually are. So why did something so minor give you such intense feelings?
Your mind tries to dwell on it but a sudden and loud noise from the TV breaks you from your thoughts. The group of friends you’d forgotten about all shriek and flinch at what you guess had been a jump scare. You become aware of your surroundings again and right at that moment, the realization hits.
You are in love.
With your best friend, your Harry.
What were you to do now?
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A few weeks later you’re in Harry’s room for your weekly sleepover. You’re in one of his hoodies and a pair of pajama pants he thought he lost a while ago. You two talk and laugh and shush each other under the blankets, just like normal. You ignore the fluttering sensation in your belly and the voice in the back of your head shouting “Tell him! Tell him!”
It doesn’t matter how much butterflies flutter or how hot your face gets. You won’t tell him. You can’t risk it. You won’t take a chance if it means potentially ruining your friendship forever. You couldn’t handle losing Harry. It would break you.
You and Harry are cuddled close under his sheets. You’re almost nose-to-nose and you can feel his breath on your face. Your fingers trace over Harry’s cheek slowly, softly, almost longingly. He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to savor the feel of his lips on your skin. Your body is still begging you to tell him, but you don’t. Instead, you open your eyes and they trail over his face. You soak him in like it’s the first time you’ve seen him, even though this is the same face you've had committed to memory since before you could properly say your own name.
Harry’s eyes don’t move. They stay locked in yours as he strokes your arm in slow, repeating patterns. At that moment, he didn’t think he would need to look at anything that wasn’t you ever again. As long as he could see the crease by your eyes the dimple on your cheek he’d be okay. Harry seems to dissociate for a bit as his eyes focus on you. Your eyebrows furrow as poke his cheek softly, silently asking him what’s wrong.
He shakes his head and snaps out of his trance. He’s got a strange look on his face. He looks conflicted as he takes your face in between his hands and presses his forehead against yours.
“You’re my best friend.” He mumbles breathlessly, like he’s just finished running a marathon.
At first, you don’t think anything of it. But after a few minutes of mauling over his worlds silently, your heart jumps to your throat.
You pull away from him. Shocked, happy, wide-eyed, and grinning.
You knew what it was,
He is in love.
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nelkcats · 1 year
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Star Thief ✦
After a medical check with Frostbite and a conversation with Clockwork, it turned out that Danny didn't have a protect obsession, and it was more of a ghostly reflex about protecting his haunt from invaders.
The need to protect his home had invaded his mind until it became a priority due to the constant in which the other ghosts kept coming, leaving his space obsession as a secondary priority until the end of the danger.
He only needed one night looking at the sky and getting stellar freckles to realize that he had an obsession with space, the problem? Phantom has become a possessive ghost.
As with his home, he had an irrational fear of the night sky being stolen from him, so he began stealing stars and keeping them with him. This might seem impossible if Danny were a normal person, but he was a half ghost, and a powerful one.
He stole the stars and hid them within his own ectoplasm, turning his appearance into one similar to Nocturn's. Or at least he did until Clockwork scolded him for interfering with his dimension's solar system and forced him to return the stars.
Which he did with great reluctance. But the desire to hoard the stars just for himself did not disappear; Danny looked for an alternative solution to the problem and with the help of the Infinite Map he found "The perfect dimension to steal stars and not have to return them"
However, this did not go unnoticed by the Justice League when an abnormality was detected in all parts of the cosmos, hundreds of stars were disappearing, and fast. They decided to investigate.
On the other hand, Danny was hugging and hoarding stars as he hovered in the new dimension sky. It was perfect! And he wasn't going to return them again.
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allfearstofallto · 3 months
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hello, could I pls have A C I U W for Lyney?
I am still not used to writing for Lyney, but I tried!!
TW: NSFW (MDNI), cum eating, finishing inside, teasing, exhibitionism, humiliation
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A ftercare - What they're like after sex
With ecstatic Lyney and his abnormally high stamina, it takes a while for sex to even end. He goes for so long, hours and hours and you just have to take him, growing more and more exhausted after each position he puts you in.
Even after he's done, he's still excitable. As he towels you down, cleaning you off, he'll talk to you about whatever he's thinking about. New tricks he's been working on, places he wants to perform, people he wants to meet. You wonder how he's able to be so lively after what the two of you just did, but you yourself are too tired to think about it. Normally you find yourself falling asleep while his words become nothing but a garbled mess in your ears. You'll wake up cleaned and dressed, with water for you to drink later.
C um - Anything to do with cum, basically
Lyney consistently cums a lot. His first load is always his largest, but that doesn't mean the rest after that aren't big as well. To the point where you struggle to swallow it, let him finish in your mouth and cum will leak out of your stuffed cheeks as you try to gulp the rest down.
He'll sheepishly apologize for how much he's stuffing into you, pretending to make an effort to pull out, but keeping himself balls deep inside anyways. Soft moans will drop from his lips as his cum seeps from your cunt, running down your legs while more pumps into you.
I ntimacy - How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect
So sweet he is in moments that are tender, his lips only spewing mumbles of praise and encouragement. Holding your cheeks so you can look into his eyes, he'll start speaking of how beautiful he thinks you are, how perfect you are for him, how amazing the sex with you is. His honeyed words aren't ploys at all, he means every bit of them, and when you say something kind back, his eyes go wide with joy. The rest of the act is just spent with the two of you praising one another back and forth, cumming over and over until you both grow tired.
U nfair - How much they like to tease
Lyney is a shameless tease, a public one at that. Whether it's just out on the town, or even at one of his shows, he'll still find a way to tease you, having you wet and ready for him when it's time to go home.
Such things over the clothes groping are commonplace to him. As a magician, his touch can be easily hidden as he does these things. Reaching down to hand you something, can be quickly followed by the slight squeeze of your chest, a smack of your ass, even a hand between your thighs. All the while, everyone else is none the wiser. Eccentric Lyney makes it hard to tell.
W ild card - A random headcanon for the character
It's a tragic thing that something like humiliation turns Lyney on. Performing everyday means he's not as susceptible to things such as embarrassment. But he knows that when he feels it, his cock grows harder, begging for attention.
This leads to nights where Lyney will make you watch him. It's not the typical performance you'd get from someone like him, but it's something regardless. A small stage would be rented out late at night, doors locked so it was only you and he inside and just like usual, he would walk up on that platform and perform. Only, this time, in the dark of night, he'd be naked.
Lyney would try to get through his set, completely bare before you, your eyes seeming to take in every piece of his body. He knew he couldn't perform without his clothes, but the sight of you out in those seats, with the lights beating down on his nude body made him tremble. He'd cum long before his show was over, spilling his seed all over the floor in front of him, the shame he was feeling only making his dick harder.
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tarjapearce · 9 months
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soccer family
how did miguel propose 👀💍
The serious questions yo ❤️✨
Hope you like 🥹✨
Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.
He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.
Yet, there you were.
Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.
He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.
Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.
How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.
The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.
He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.
He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.
You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.
Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.
"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.
Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.
After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.
You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.
"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."
You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.
He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.
He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.
He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.
And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.
You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.
He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.
A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.
Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.
You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.
"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"
"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."
His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.
"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."
Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.
The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.
You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.
"Mi reina?" (My queen)
An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'
"Would you marry me?"
Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.
"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"
You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.
But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.
"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)
He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.
"Good. Good."
"Te amo."
His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.
"También te amo, preciosa."
Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.
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rollercoasterwords · 2 months
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ok personal top 5 least favorite responses 2 lambpost:
1. terfs going ‘woman moment’ -> your politics are rooted in a fundamental reinvestment in the very sex binaries that undergird patriarchal power & your analysis of this post is shallow & mean-spirited. immediate block
2. ‘get therapy LOL’ -> health itself is a social construct as is mental health & therapy is not a neutral institution. your assumption that anything deemed strange/abnormal/uncomfortable must be the result of an emotional state in need of ‘fixing’ indicates a lack of critical self-reflection as to how and within what institutional confines your own ideas about what is ‘normal’ & ‘healthy’ have developed
3. ‘wait is this deep & meaningful or is it weird & horny i can’t tell’ -> your inability to reconcile the fact that the erotic can be meaningful & the grotesque sexual paired with your assumption that art must have a single, fundamental True meaning is tiresome
4. ‘oh yeah well i’m NOT the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb because i bite & kick & fight back’ etc etc -> ok. why r u on the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb post then
5. ‘clearly the Actual Meaning of this post is X & anyone interacting w it in a different way is a freak/brain damaged/incapable of critical thought/etc’ -> do u enjoy the pedestal u have built for urself. does it make u feel special.
personal top 5 favorite responses 2 lambpost:
1. this comic by @honeyedheartss -> beautiful & i am always thinking abt it <3
2. these tags by @unclemagnemite -> genuinely a fresh & fun interpretation i had not considered which added something new 2 my own experience of a post i wrote. also very funny
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3. people making webweave posts w supernatural & succession characters -> this is what social media is meant for. also ur so right that character is definitely the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb…
4. this fanart by @penaltyboxboxbox -> idk who that man is or why he’s the favorite sacrificial lamb but i think it’s so cool how his guts r out
5. this comment on tiktok -> let’s all hold hands & become alpha wolfs. together <3
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st-el-la-luna · 6 months
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Thinking about being a civilian in Las Almas when shit goes down
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You'd been invited to stay with a friend and, being in desperate need of a vacation, you'd agreed. It was fun, staying with them, meeting their family, learning about their hometown and childhood.
The fun ended pretty quick when these cunts dressed in black started killing everyone.
You and your friend had been out enjoying the night, eating, drinking, dancing. You were on your way back to their house when you heard it.
A gunshot.
Your friend tells you this isn't entirely abnormal. Tells you to ignore it and keep walking.
So you do.
But the gunshots are becoming more frequent. Louder too. They're getting closer.
A woman you vaguely recognize, one of your friends neighbours, rushes out of an alleyway, terrified and bloodied.
You can only understand so much about what's said before her head suddenly... Not there. Bits of skull and brain and blood spattered all over you as you watch her body drop.
You turn to your friend. "This is normal? Dude...."
You're friend tells you to shut the fuck up and that you need to run. As the sound of heavy footsteps and voices (American accents you register) get closer, accompanied by the sound of a gun being reloaded, you agree.
The two of you make a run for your friends house, passing all sorts of horrible sights. You're a block away when a gunshot rips through the night and your friend suddenly just... Stops.
You look back in disbelief. Their eyes wide with shock, lips parted, slack jawed... The new hole in the middle of their forehead. They try to say something to you, but all that escapes them is a choked groan. They throw you their keys, then collapse.
They're not dead yet. You can tell by their sounds and the rise and fall of their chest. A part of you wants to help them, grab them and drag them off to safety.
The other part of you recognizes the man dressed in all black (he looks suspiciously military but that doesn't make sense, killing civilians is a war crime... isn't it?), who's walking closer as he reloads his gun.
So you run.
Run and run until your legs are burning. Taking back roads and side streets, jumping fences, the adrenaline making it easy to ignore the way the barbed wire tears at your skin.
When you make it to your friends street, you find the door to their house is already open. Kicked down.
You find the dead inside.
A part of you wants to stop here, curl up and break down. The other knows that these people, these men in black, could come back at any moment. And so you do what you can to prepare yourself.
You empty your backpack of your belongings, filling it instead with anything you find around the house that might be useful.
A first aid kit buckled to the side. Rubbing alcohol and tequilla and whatever else flammable you can find poured into glass bottles, the lips stuffed with socks. Kitchen knives. Fire crackers and fire works. A couple flares. You manage to break open the safe and get a gun. An eight round revolver that you have no clue how to shoot but figure, hey, its better than nothing. At the very least, you could use it for intimidation.
You're heading to the garage where you're pretty sure you remember seeing a bow and full quiver of arrows (you were obsessed with the hunger games when you were younger, actually got pretty good with the weapon) when you freeze.
The man in black also freezes.
He's bloody and out of breath. Face smeared with dirt and oil. His mohawk disheveled. His blue eyes land on you laser focused. He's got a gun. A big one.
And he's looting the corpses. Your friends roommates, their bodies still warm as blood pools beneath them, some of their eyes still open, casting judgmental stares, lay there limp. And this fucker is acting like this is a D&D campaign.
You've got the revolver trained on him with shaking hands.
He points his gun (some sort of automatic things) at you. His hands are steady, practiced. His eyes sharp.
He opens his mouth to speak and takes a half step towards you.
You pull the trigger.
Nothing happens.
"Aye," the man speaks in a thick Scottish brogue. He sounds like he's laughing. How dare he laugh? If you could figure out how the stupid gun works you'd shoot him. "You've got to cock a gun like that 'fore you shoot it."
You freeze, your arm drawn back ready to throw the revolver at the man. His accent gives you pause. The other men in black, they were Americans. And this guy... His clothes are a bit different too. Though he's clearly also army.
You lower your arm hesitantly. "You're... You're not one of them."
"The Shadows?" he asks. "Tch, no. You'd best thank your lucky stars for that, they'd have killed you in a second flat."
"What the hell is going on here?" You demand, slipping the gun back into the makeshift holster you had made out of a couple belts. You step around the man to the garage and he follows.
"You're not from here, are ya love?" he asks as he watches you scan the shelves.
"I'm here on vacation," you say bitterly as you stand on your toes, struggling to reach the quiver of arrows. He pulls it down and hands it to you. The arrows are dusty and old, though still sharp. He hands the bow to you as well, albeit unstrung, and you let out a quiet hum in thanks. He watches as you string the bow, a brow raised. He looks like he's going to say something, but you cut him off. "You didn't answer my question... What's happening? Who are those people?"
He hesitates a moment, you notice his ear piece. Someone else is speaking to him. "Aye, i know, I know, but I cannae very well leave her here now can I?"
At the mention of being left, you panic. There's a pair of handcuffs on his belt. You grab them and before he has a chance to react, you've cuffed your hands together.
And swallowed the key.
Yeah... Not your brightest moment.
The man looks at you dumbfounded. Then speaks to the man in his ear. "Uh... Lt? Got a bit of a problem..."
Please reblog to support my writing!
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Masterlist
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sugar-grigri · 11 months
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Neither Denji, Yoshida nor their author can achieve normalcy
Let's look at Chainsaw Man as a narrative whole. There's no point in an author dealing with a subject that's already been dealt with, except to say something additional: so what does this chapter tell us?
Entitled "Normal Life", the chapter refers directly to Denji's previous dream: a normal life became Yoshida's offer to push him to stop being Chainsaw Man.
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Fujimoto knows that you've understood that Denji intends to go beyond normality. This is something we learned from the whole of Part 1: normality had already been used by Makima to manipulate Denji. Here, things seem redundant, as Yoshida follows in the footsteps of the former antagonist. On top of that, while Denji was communicating and showing a certain emotional vulnerability, he's being sexually assaulted?
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Why this chapter? Why tell it like it is? Fujimoto doesn't seem to initiate anything new, worse, erases his own developments.
The answer is easy, and Fujimoto gives it to us: this chapter is frustrating because it consciously shows you that he's incapable of writing and describing a normal life.
The first few pages serve to show that Denji is incapable of living anonymously and incognito when his environment permanently gravitates around the figure of Chainsaw Man. Denji literally finds himself in a fight to his detriment, and is punched in the face in the name of his heroic identity. Back in the face.
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The second page serves to show that Denji can't achieve this so-called normativity by his past, by who he is, but above all by the way he's perceived by society and his guardians. He doesn't have a normal past, so how can he achieve a normal present? The others don't see him as lambda, so how can he become one?
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The third thing that will prevent Denji from achieving this normal life is the man who intends to offer it to him: Yoshida. In his equally unconventional present as a demon hunter. He tells him explicitly: he has no idea what a normal high-school student does. Normal he isn't, since a normal high-school student is a professional cover for him.
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Denji and Yoshida perceive a normal schoolgirl, that is, the ordinary life of a schoolboy, as something projected and unattainable. Just like the love of a hug is unattainable for Denji and Makima. Yoshida and Denji are distanced from it by this abnormality embedded in their daily lives: a demon.
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Yoshida's assertion that the world won't end without Chainsaw Man also loses its meaning. Granted, Chainsaw Man isn't the only one to eradicate demons. But who will save the world?
How can a boy whose family includes a demonic little sister, and a demonic dog who is both his heart and his family, find his way in this normal life other than by being isolated?
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In this empty room, doesn't it seem more like Chainsaw Man is deliberately isolated? Trapped in this normal life he can't quite fit into. Whether it's because of his identity as Chainsaw Man, as Denji, whether it's because Yoshida offers him this girl who looks like a demon who literally followed orders to sleep with him, this sex-obsessed boy?
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Why abruptly cut off Denji's realization that he's in a bad way? With this demon-like girl sexually assaulting him? Why does this ending seem so abrupt?
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Because what Fujimoto is indicating is that he's not capable of writing a normal life for Denji either, that his writing will never be gentle, that his character will never be able to give himself up in appropriate, normal circumstances: that a trauma will always resurface.
Whether it's the demon that prevents him from accessing the life projected before him, or the demon that brutally cuts him off from his confessions by attacking him. Fujimoto confronts his own hero, who no longer knows what to do?
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Make love? In a world populated by demons? In a world crawling with Chainsaw Man? With an author unable to depict a normal life without brutally interrupting it, frustrating his own reader?
The normal life we'd all like Denji to have: neither he, nor the man who offers it, nor the man who writes it, will give it to us.
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ystrike1 · 4 months
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My Righteous Older Brother - By Morie Satoshi (9/10)
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Assault is not a laughing matter. It's not something that should be brushed off, ever. It's a crime that destroys what that person is. Yes, even the most charming perpetrator becomes worth less than dirt when they commit such a crime. Two victims of the same man meet, and they cover up his death to create a better life for themselves.
Rize loved her brother.
She hasn't seen him in two years.
He was her rock. The only member of her family that loved her. Her mother left to find a new man and love. Her father was a heartless man, who only cared about fleeting pleasures. Never his two children. Rize and her brother were left adrift, trying to survive during a messy divorce....where neither parent wanted either of them.
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It's tough to think about, but there are parents in this world who start over. Fathers who forget about their children. Mothers who want to have better children. Monsters that will hurt unwanted children to get the perfect life they desire. Rize is alone now, but she trusts her brother. She knows he will return, because he loves her genuinely.
When she's not in school she's working.
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There's a hot guy at work named Kairi.
He reminders her of her brother.
Her righteous, upstanding and sweet brother.
He's handsome and popular and charming.
He seeks her out for comfort and chatter, when they're alone, like her brother did.
Rize is pretty busy though. Her friend is a cop, and she's investigating her brothers disappearance.
He hasn't contacted her for too long.
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Rize chats with Kairi. They become close. They fall in mutual love. They're awkward about it. Rize is still obsessed with finding her missing brother. They hug. They sleep next to each other. They're vulnerable and sweet as can be.....Rize finds his unhinged diary.
Kairi killed someone.
He feels guilty, but he didn’t turn himself in, and he wants Rize to believe in him.
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She flips out. She tells him the sick truth, to hurt him. To destroy his growing love for her. Yes, she thought he was special. But, that was originally because he reminded her of her brother. Her feelings were abnormal. They came from a wrong and lonely place inside her.
Kairi tells her that her feelings are normal, and she's allowed to enjoying cuddling and closeness with people that aren't her brother.
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Kairi explains.
He has a strong but twisted sense of justice. He was close to one of his teachers in high school. He admired her. His father also worked at the school. His father assaulted that teacher he admired. He tied her up while she was drunk.
That teacher begged for help. Kairi tried, but he was only a child. His family eventually disowned him and even that teacher, the woman he risked everything for, turned against him when he wasn't able to steal the evidence for her. For a legal case a child should have never, ever been involved in.
He dropped out of school.
That's how his perfect, handsome life ended. That's why he works at a convenience store with Rize.
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When the truth is out Kairi tries to walk into the ocean.
He wants Rize to have her revenge, and he happy.
He knows she deserves it.
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She says she loves him.
She thought about revenge, but there's no point.
Her rock. Her brother. The perfect man.
He never existed.
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Kyoka is a victim of assult. She breaks the law to help her savior. Kairi did kill Rize's brother. It was wrong, but in the process he saved Kyoka's life.
Rize's beloved brother was going to assault her, beat her, and leave her for dead in the street.
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When Kairi saved her his damaged and twisted sense of justice took over. Rize's brother was sort of his friend, but he didn’t hesitate. Rize's brother tried to convince him to become a criminal too. He was a serial rapist, and he also tried to sell the fun of it to Kairi. He said Kairi should have some too. He pointed at the bleeding girl on his bed, and told him to have fun.
Kairi lost it, to save that girl and to take revenge for himself. Giving Rize's brother a chance, a true friend, was a waste of time.
He was already gone.
Kyoka lies to the police for Kairi, and Rize. They all deserve to live happily, and the rapist who died did not. Kyoka took on the risk of lying to save her savior, because suffering more over a dead rapist went against her ideals.
Rize must face the painful truth. Her dad isn't coming back. Her mom started a new life without her, and her brother abandoned her to prey on women in the streets.
She doesn't have to wait any longer.
She's free to start a new life too.
.
By the way Kairi legally becomes her brother to hide from the cops, and they live happily ever after.
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vympr · 3 months
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I remember getting the gardasil vaccine when it came out. I was a sophomore in high school at that time. My mom was like, the antithesis of an antivaxx mom, she would basically hand the doctors our arms anytime they mentioned a new vaccine. And I remember that was the first time I really heard of the antivaxx movement. I remember this woman got popular pretending that it caused her uncontrollable shakes that prevented her from walking (sound familiar? who would’ve thought antivaxxers would be a one trick pony) and just fear mongering about mercury in the vaccine. I remember my high school BIOLOGY teacher (the class that also taught sex ed) went on this entire rant about the HORRORS of Gardasil. She was not ecstatic when I announced to the class I got the two shots with no side effects.
And bc the vaccine was mainly for teens and young adults (to hopefully vaccinate them before becoming sexually active-which will be explained in depth in a minute) and at the time it was only available for afab, and it was for a sexually transmitted virus, casual slut shaming surrounded it too. Which I’m sure prevented many parents from allowing doctors to vaccinate their kids bc “their child isn’t a whore”.
Cervical cancer has one known cause. HPV. Gardasil protects against the strains of HPV known to cause cervical cancer (there’s over a 100 strains but only few cause cancer). HPV is THE most common STI with around 80% of the population having had it at some point. There is also no actual test for HPV. If abnormal cells are present during a pap smear, HPV is considered the culprit. There is no test to speculate if you have HPV (at least that im aware of) if you do not have a cervix, unless you have one of the strains that could potentially cause genital warts. Which most don’t. It can also lie dormant for weeks to YEARS before it becomes active. So a partner could transfer it from a previous relationship to a new one, while remaining completely monogamous. Or be impossible to pinpoint if someone has had multiple partners over the course of years and had unprotected sex. Which is why it was pushed to teens and young adults before they had sex.
This means that there are no doubt people who have died or at least suffered unnecessarily, bc even tho there is a vaccine out there that would prevent against that very scenario, due to the misinformation (and in this specific case additional misogyny) of the antivaxx movement.
“Potential scientists” fuck offffffffffff. “potential scientists”, their “potential scientist” told a classroom full of teens, whom they trusted to be an educated source of scientific information, they should avoid a possible life saving vaccine based off dogshit.
Anyways. Sorry this is clearly a topic I’m passionate about. I also know a lot of people who’ve never heard of this vaccine. The information about HPV came directly from my gyno when abnormal cells were found in my pap smear and she nearly cried tears of joy finding out I received both shots. The vaccine is available to everyone now. It’s better late than never, so even being sexually active it’s still a good idea to get it. This also being the celibacy website, getting it BEFORE being sexually active is ideal. (Also in case i scared anyone about HPV, the reason so many people have had it is bc its generally a very mild virus and usually has no symptoms and the body normally fights it off on its own. It’s just those strains that can cause cancer, both of the cervix and throat, are the ones that are obviously a concern. Which getting vaccinated can prevent against)
period
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lolokouhm · 7 months
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PRETTY PLEASE? pt.I
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Out of all humans walking on this Earth, Satoru Gojo might be the most impatient one.
The clock seems to have stopped the moment you walked out of his apartment, and despite his efforts to make the time flow at least a tiny bit faster, he’s miserable. That’s not how the night was supposed to go - he had plans, and one thing about Satoru is that he hates when his plans end up in ruin. This time though, there is only one person he can blame, and that is himself. It’s not your fault that when you were telling him about the girls’ night you had planned weeks ago with your besties, he was dozing off, playing with those tiny buttons on your favourite shirt. He couldn’t help himself - there was something so mesmerising about the act, and Satoru got invested.
He’d very much prefer to get invested in anything involving you than to sit alone in his apartment, waiting for you to call. At least you asked him to pick you up after you’re done - otherwise, he’d be sulking for weeks. He’s sulking now, laying on the bed, frustrated and alone, scrolling through every possible social media you use. At least there’s a tiny chance he’ll get a glimpse inside of the party you’re at, right? Wrong. You seem to be doing that on purpose, as there’s no new content for him to indulge in and sulk over even more. Satoru knows you’re the type of person who loves to overshare on the internet, so the current silence is quite suspicious. He’s trying his best not stress over it, as he swore he wouldn’t text and call, but his inner demon is really starting to sweat over it. He sighs. It’s so frustrating. Your relationship is a rather fresh subject and there were some areas of it that you haven’t really explored, but he was more than ready to do it tonight. To set the record straight - and after weeks of dating, movie nights and cook-offs in your apartment to officially ask you to become his girlfriend. 
The thought of his perfect night with you yet again pops in his head as he drops the phone on the bed, trying to shake the uneasiness. In normal circumstances, he’d have you wrapped around his finger after a week, throw a random sentence that would suggest you’re a couple from now on and be done, but when it comes to you, nothing seems normal. Not his heart rate. Not his sex drive. Not his thoughts. If love’s a war, then he’s not the brightest soldier on the battlefield - it seems like everything about him is ruthlessly occupied by you.
Even his speed. It’s abnormal, how fast he’s picking the phone up when a notification from you finally appears on his screen. Satoru rushes to his car, excitement filling up his entire being to the point where the speed limits become relatively unimportant - even if he gets a fine, he would have more than enough to pay for that. There’s only one thing that’s priceless, and that is, time. To be exact - time with you, which he has a severe shortage of, no matter for how many hours he’s blessed to be in you presence. Even infinity seems like not enough.
His sufferings have finally come to an end, as Satoru has already parked in your bestie’s driveway. He takes out his phone and texts you „I’M HEREEE” with a million of random emojis, and then slowly leans his head on the cold window glass. From the pieces of information he’s managed to pull out from the darkest places of his memory, it seems like these girls’ nights are an annual thing that happen when one of your closest friends comes back to the city once in a while - she’s been studying overseas for the past few years, but your girlfriends and you are very serious about friendship and do everything in your power to keep it alive and kicking. The effort you put in the relationship pays off - you always have your girls to talk to, vent and cry, and they have you. He grins unconsciously. Another thing Satoru loves about you. You’re just such a sweetheart.  
He observes the entrance, waiting for you to finally come out. It’s past 1 a.m and the whole neighbourhood seems to be sleeping. Satoru rolls the windows down a bit and as the freezing, but nicely refreshing air hits him, his eyes light up when he picks up a faint sound of your voice coming from the house. And then, just moments later, the doors open wide and a familiar shape emerges. Satoru instinctively fixes himself on the seat and brings both of his hands on the wheel, just to tighten his grip on them as you slowly come out from the shadows. He finally can see you, in your whole glory, when the light coming from one of the reflectors catches your frame.
You are so fucking cute.
Satoru’s smile grows bigger and bigger until it almost doesn’t fit his face. Cute is a perfect word to describe your whole being - incredibly wholesome, bright, at the same time dumb in some ways and extremely knowledgeable in the others. And tonight, Gojo Satoru is set on making you officially his. 
He’s ready to go out and open the passenger’s door for you, but you’re faster, even though your legs feel slightly wobbly as you almost sprint to his car, determined to run away from autumn cold. You grip the handle and suddenly you’re welcomed by cozy warmth and Satoru’s overwhelming scent. 
„Toru!”, you exclaim, basically throwing yourself into his open arms, giggling non-stop. The white-haired man in the driver’s seat grabs you instantly, hugging you tightly in his arms and you hide your face in his torso. You’re home.
He’s home.
„Hi, princess. I missed you so, sooo much”, he coos, not really paying attention to the fact that your body twisted in this awkward position may be activating some car options that he has no idea exist. You fit into his frame perfectly and that’s all that matters. 
„Toooru”, you purr into his hoodie, words barely audible. He raises his hands from your waist to cup you chin and kiss you, but you’re faster - you sit up properly, making a place for yourself right on his lap. You slowly raise your head and then - Satoru notices. Your flushed cheeks. Your shiny eyes. Your adorable smile.
And then you drop it.
„Toru, I need you to fuck me. Please?” 
masterlist ❤️
this will get a part two, it's just been sitting in my drafts for so long I had to post it haha based on a drabble I wrote some time ago. prepare for subby gojo I guess
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howtofightwrite · 6 months
Note
(Apologies if this is outside your normal ask) why weren't weapons like spears and pikes made entirely out of bronze/iron/whatever metal the army used?
Since (depending on the army) many of them are already given a sword as a sidearm, is also having a spear made out of iron (so it won't break as easily) too expensive? Or is it a weight issue?
I'm pretty sure I've seen a few that were, but they're fairly rare. Weight is a serious consideration, especially for bronze weapons, but that wasn't the real problem.
Ironically, the wooden shaft is sturdier than an equivalently sized iron or bronze shaft would have been. A major problem for longswords in the early iron age was that they tended to bend from use. There's even a Roman account from combat with the Celts, where the Celts were using bronze longswords, and had to re-straighten their weapons on the battlefield because they were becoming bent and breaking.
In fact the Romans specifically designed a non-reusable javelin (the pilum), which exploited this issue. The pilum had an abnormally long head (roughly 60cm) When the pilum struck its target, the head would bury into the target normally, but the weight of the grip would cause the iron shaft to deform, rendering the weapon unusable.
The other side of this is that, as mentioned, wood is a lot tougher than people seem to think. I'm not sure where this idea that you could just casually chop through someone's spear with a sword came from, but as anyone who's ever tried to chop down a tree can tell you, yes in a fight between wood and metal, metal will win, but it takes a lot of effort to get there. Cutting through someone's spear with a single slice just isn't happening. That's not how wood works, and that's not how swords work. Though, attempting to do so is a good way to mangle your blade.
Wooden spear shafts were reasonably durable, and easy to replace. Bronze or iron shafts were neither.
Eventually, I think this was the 19th century, hollow steel shafts were used by cavalry. At that point in time you were looking at shafts that were significantly more durable than the wooden ones, and were cheap enough to produce that they could be easily fielded. Unfortunately, this only lasted a few decades until the proliferation of fully automatic firearms ended cavalry charges definitively. In another bit of irony, the technological advancement that allowed for effective metal spear shafts, is the same advancement that rendered them obsolete.
I think there were some iron reinforced shafts used by some cavalry forces before that, but I can't remember (nor can I quickly find) who might have been using those.
These days, hollow aluminum shafts are pretty common in javelins, and arrows, and they are generally superior to wooden shafts, however, the method to produce metallic aluminum wasn't discovered until the 19th century.
So, the short answer, wooden shafts were better. They were sturdier and easier to replace.
-Starke
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comradekatara · 2 months
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Ok we should talk more about sokka and aang because these two dumbasses are adorable together! Underrated relationship
The gag with Katara and blind Toph in season 3 is still the funniest scene in the series lol
yeah their friendship very cute. i like how when they're left to their own devices their respective adhd tendencies combine, that feels very true to my relationships with my friends who also have adhd lol. it's also just really adorable how through aang's sheer lovability, sokka learns to loosen up a little and appreciate life (somewhat, sometimes) in a more relaxed, content way. aang is a really good and highly valuable influence on everyone around him, especially as he counteracts the logic of war and its necessity for violence, which is an ideology sokka not only heavily subscribes to, but to which he attaches his very personhood. aang reminds sokka that he is still a child (he reminds katara of this too, but it happens in the literal pilot, whereas sokka's journey to literally enjoying himself ever is far more gradual and grueling). aang reminds sokka that he is human.
that said, i do think that people tend to be reductive when talking about the value of their relationship. not to single you out specifically, but i do kind of take umbrage with the notion (perhaps unintentional) that all their dynamic is good for is being adorable and funny. calling them "dumbasses" because they can be silly and goofy sometimes, or scatterbrained and absent-minded. i genuinely think that aang and sokka constitute one of the most interesting foils in the entire show. normally when we talk about character foils, we talk about characters who are positioned in opposition to each other, but aang and sokka are fascinating because they're allies (and friends) who nonetheless approach the same problem with the same intentions and the same goals but from completely different angles.
in many ways, sokka is aang's most distinct opposite. but first, to address their similarities: they're both victims of a genocidal imperialist project that has burdened them with a responsibility to their people that they are too young and barely equipped to handle; they are both expected to shoulder this burden easily by those around them due to their nature as "gifted" child prodigies with distinctly unique skillset and an unprecedented ability to absorb and apply new information that they learn at a genuinely abnormal rate (remember that aang is not just the avatar, but an incredibly prodigious avatar at that; he mastered all four elements within less than a year by the age of twelve, whereas most avatars take at least another four years to master their elements); they are both the "leaders" of their small guerrilla militia of child soldiers, and they take turns giving each other guidance and trusting and following the other's lead; they both consider katara the central figure in their lives and love her with an almost obsessive devotion; they both repress their grief and other unpalatable emotions through humor and constant distraction, and sometimes even depersonalize entirely when they feel that their goal is more important than retaining their humanity (sokka does this more frequently, but when aang does it, it's more blatant); and of course, they both harbor massive guilt complexes for the devastating tragedies (largely beyond their control) that have shaped their lives, and are constantly replaying those moments of "failure" as that of acute shame to motivate themselves as they strive to rectify and "atone" for their past errors.
so, as you can see, reducing their friendship to "adorable dumbasses" is already not very interesting. to me, the best aang and sokka scenes aren't the ones wherein they are playing and goofing around together. those scenes are sweet and charming, of course, but the best aang and sokka scenes are the ones wherein sokka is positioned as the logical consequence of aang's grief. wherein present-day sokka becomes the worst case scenario for a hypothetical future aang. in many ways, their friendship is incredibly bittersweet, because it is also punctuated by moments wherein sokka threatens aang's entire value system and quote-unquote "innocence" through attempting to mold him into a Man Of War the way he does those hapless toddlers in his village. for all that sokka is remarkably open-minded and receptive to new ideas, he cannot see past the limits of the world he was born into and the mechanisms and assumptions of violence he was forced to internalize and embody. aang is, of course, totally unique in his ability to not only envision a world beyond the war (i would argue that katara has the ability to do this as well), but also to have actually experienced it. and so it is truly a testament to aang's resilience that he is almost entirely impervious to sokka's ruthless, militaristic logic, even as sokka constantly attempts to enforce it.
i have a much longer post in my drafts about how aang and sokka are positioned in "the serpent's pass" (one of their best episodes in terms of their dynamic, also just a highly underrated episode in general), so i'm not gonna get too much into it here, but katara's relationship to aang as paralleled with suki's relationship to sokka is really fascinating in this episode for the ways in which it also positions katara's grief over witnessing aang's attempt to detach himself from his grief to focus on his goals and aang slipping into "sokkahood," and the absolutely devastating implications of what that must mean for katara. i think there's a strong case, in general, for the reading of katara attempting to replace her lost childhood (with sokka) through aang as he represents a vehicle for her overly idealized nostalgia (much like how zuko projects onto aang and views him as a vehicle to return to that site of his overly idealized childhood), and thus, quite literally, replacing sokka with aang. to katara, aang possesses what sokka has since lost, or perhaps something he never got the chance to have in the first place. and that isn't to say that katara views aang as a brother, but rather that katara longs for companionship in any form, and what is aang if not the ideal companion? so aang's grief and rage scares her not only because it pains her to see someone she loves so deeply in so much pain, but also because it reflects her own pain back at her, as someone who has lost so much, including family members (also including kanna and hakoda) who are, ostensibly (at least physically), still alive.
one of the most fascinating scenes between sokka and aang in the entire show is when sokka straight up attacks aang for burning katara in "the deserter." katara is very clearly affected by this beyond simply the physical pain; being burned by the weapon that killed her mother is explicitly triggering for her, and she retreats into herself and sobs like a child (she is a child, but you know what i mean. an even younger child). and sokka in turn is triggered by katara being triggered, because his entire existence revolves around his oath to protect her, and she was just hurt by the one person to whom she stakes all her hope and pride and joy and affection above all. aang obviously understands the gravity of this accident immediately; it of course wasn't intentional, but he nonetheless takes full accountability and apologizes sincerely. but sokka only calms down somewhat once he knows for certain that katara is okay. and instead of going to find katara as she sobs, he spends all his focus on yelling at aang, throwing him to the ground, more furious than we have ever seen him. and in a way, it's clear that he's also furious at himself, for having let his guard down around and trusted aang, and for his failure to perform his primary duty, protecting his sister. the fulcrum of aang and sokka's relationship is, necessarily, katara. she is the force that brings them together, and the person who is most important to either of them, but she also person who connects them in her mind, and so our perceptions of them as the audience are primarily informed by her perception of them as the narrator.
moreover, sokka's advocacy for killing zuko (in "the siege of the north") and ozai (in "sozin's comet") constitute two more fascinating scenes with aang, for the way in which sokka does not even find the act of killing something to flinch at, let alone an absolute betrayal of core principles and values the way aang does. killing is simply not something sokka feels guilty about, despite the fact that he seems to carry guilt over simply existing a lot of the time. and that juxtaposition, between aang and sokka playing together, of sokka learning how to have fun and entertain his little friend, versus sokka chastising aang for refusing to commit murder, is what makes their relationship so compelling. when people reduce their dynamic to its most comedic and innocent mode, they are reducing their roles as they embody two opposing relationships to violence, and how that reflects their ideological positions as someone who has subscribed to imperialist logic insofar as his values have been shaped by war, as opposed to someone who knows through his own experiences to refute that logic by any means necessary. when we talk about aang helping sokka to regain his humanity, it is crucial to understand specifically how sokka lost his humanity in the first place, but also why aang specifically is so crucial in counterbalancing his logic in a way no one else alive actually can.
ultimately, if sokka represents the voluntary auto-dehumanization of the colonized subject, then aang represents the potential of preservation and even reclamation of humanity and the imaginative potential of a world[view] beyond those colonial limits. their ideological conflict is not simply one of what it means to be human within a colonized paradigm, but what it means to exist at all.
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