#<-would be exactly this incoherant regardless

[sunnnfish]

I know you said don't worry about it but I am a chronic worrier so do you wish to elaborate on that fabiniku shirashiro au you mentioned

WELLLL IF YOU INSIST... twirling hair evilly. so first up fabiniku is short for a manga series Fantasy Bishojo Juniku Ojisan to. translated to. deep breath. Life with an Ordinary Guy Who Reincarnated into a Total Fantasy Knockout. or other such translations. dont know if you know what fabiniku is so we're gonna explain it wheeeee.

so basic plot, maybe inferred from the title. these two guys in their 30s are like best friends who often go out drinking and go to mixers and all that and one of them is all like. i wanna get a giirrrlllllfriieennddd <- drunk in the bathroom while his friend comforts him. hope youre already recieving the shirashiro mindbeams. two hopeless romantic friends etc etc. and then. i forget exactly how we get to this but drunk sopping wet pathetic one (tachibana is his name) ends up saying like. i just wish i was a girl! or something to that effect. which catches the attention of an otherworldly god who takes it so literally and brings them both to this fantasy world in which tachibana has been turned into a drop dead beautiful and cute girl and his best friend is just still in his office suit. (jinguuji is his name). shenanigans ensue! highly recommended its so fun and interesting and subtly(?) queer. central themes of love and saving people. theres traumatic backstories and everything. really recommend just reading it.

BUT. shirashiro slots soooooo well into this setup it makes me genuinely sick. shirahama and tashiro still going to mixers from their office jobs because they just cant land a goddamn girlfriend. shirahama drunk and sick in the bathroom, tashiro with a hand on his back and throwing his arm over his shoulder to walk them home. shirahama, drunk, wish i was a cute girl! drop dead gorgeous! at least people would love me. transported to a fantasy world, shirahama gets to turned into a cute girl, not that tashiro is necessarily jealous, thatd be silly. she is really cute though. and shirahama, girl, shorter than tashiro for once, looking up like. has he always been this cool...? wait who said that.

theres also this whole bit where tachibana, girl, is a bit cursed with being so pretty that it literally charms any men in a however big radius. which jinguuji does sometimes fall victim to and it shows a little [<3 charmed] effect above his head. putting things together in my head This is also a bit like dating sim au. anyways. and theres this whole inner turmoil like Wait she may be cute but i know hes really just a guy. guys im so bad at explaining thiinnngggsss theres so many facets. read fabiniku.

theres also just so many moments in fabiniku that just line up. theres a bit about jinguuji letting his hair down and it was insanely tashiro coded. theres the way jinguuji is so observant but reserved. the character developments make sense. really truly just read fabiniku with shirashiro in mind and youll see it.

also like. look at them. come oonnnn.

theres also adjustments ive made in my head about their backstories n stuff but that would be so spoilery. once again: read fabiniku. im really bad at explaining things. just imaging me pointing and gesturing frantically and making weird noises. whatever. peace and love on planet shirashiro

[meiieiri]

when do we get to see megumi in your new series ^3^

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | art: @/amulin67 on twt/ig | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: n/a | a/n: finally welcoming megumi to this series, yay! 💓💞

“I’m just gonna go nap for a bit. Promise me you’ll wake me up if something happens. But either way, his bottle is over there, just heat it up when he gets hungry and you know where his diapers are—“

You are interrupted by a sweet kiss that still manages to catch you off guard ‘till this day.

“I wasn’t done, you know.” You place your hands on your hips, shooting him a warning glance. “And don’t you go tossing him too high. Need I remind you, our apartment has a literal ceiling fan—“

“—You worry too much,” Toji cuts you off again with another kiss. “Not gonna lie though, seeing you all worked up like that is kinda turning me on.”

“You’re horrible,” you conclude. Honestly, at this point, almost anything and everything you do can be classified as a thirst trap for Toji. You blush when Toji inches closer, his hips pressed against yours, a smirk plastered on his face when he sneakily squeezes your ass causing you to yelp. “Ah! Toji!” you swat his hand away, burying your blushing face in his chest.

Chuckling at you, he plants a soft kiss on your temple as he pulls away. “Alright, mama, go get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you.”

No one ever told you that motherhood would be so stressful. Which is why you’re so blessed to have a supportive husband who may have started out a little awkward with caring for your newborn son but gradually became a natural with this whole fatherhood business as time went by. And that’s mostly because when Megumi arrived in this world at half past two in the afternoon of December 22 with nothing more but a small hiccup as he slipped into his papa’s waiting arms, Toji fell in love. And you don’t pretend to not know why. Because whenever you look at Megumi, your heart always just seems to melt at his pudgy rose-colored cheeks and his deep expressive green eyes that fill up with tears regardless if he’s crying or being overcome by a laughing fit whenever you pepper his tiny face with kisses.

Speaking of kisses, today’s latest fiasco is centered exactly on that: kisses.

You see, you have this habit that goes way back to when you and Toji first started dating. Toji remembers it well, you have certain moods when it comes to kisses. Sometimes, you’re the one initiating it which mostly results in Toji becoming an incoherent blushing mess, or most times, Toji gets the party started by slowly kissing up your neck, his breath hot on your earlobe as he presses his hips against yours while you slept fitfully, your hushed dulcet whines ringing in his ear as your lips instinctively find each other. Fun fact: that’s exactly how Megumi came to be.

But there are times too, when you were just not having it and you’d gently nudge Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you.

It was a typical afternoon. Toji didn’t have work that day which was a huge relief for him because you’ve been suffering from dizziness and lower back pain all day. And being the helicopter partner and soon-to-be papa that he is, Toji keeps a close eye on you as you nap the afternoon away on the couch. He smiles softly as he sees you instinctively put a protective hand over your belly whenever you’d feel the slightest movements from the baby.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he’d whisper to you as you slept, combing his fingers through your hair, a permanent worried frown on his face when a whimper falling from your pursed lips as the baby kicks you again. “It’s just the overgrown parasite fidgeting around.”

“Don’t call him that.” You brush his hand away, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort.

Toji chuckles, going to press a kiss to your soft lips only for you to place your entire palm on his face, applying gentle force to pry him away. “I mean, what is he then? Other than this thing that competes for your nutrients? He’s—“

“—Our baby boy.”

“—An overgrown parasite.”

Fuming at his words, you decide to hit back with a quick retort of your own. “Yeah? It really does take one to know one, huh?”

“What a cute comeback but maybe not as cute as you,” Toji smirks, his hand gently removing your smaller one from his face, his lips puckered up as he leans in. Teasingly, you place a hand over your lips, still refusing to indulge him with his much-craved kisses. “Come on, I just want one sloppy one~”

“No!” Your laughter-filled voice comes out muffled against your palm.

“Mm, yes,” Toji teases. “Yes. Come on, baby, just one.”

“You and I both know it’s never just one.”

Of course. Why else would you be in this situation if Toji knew how to spell the words: self and control? Still, it’s not like the two of you were complaining. After all, the bond you and Toji share is an unbreakable one that’s only been strengthened by time and the many trials you’ve survived together. And now, the arrival of the very product of your love is only a hair’s breath away. Toji rests his chin on top of your head, plopping down next to you and spooning you from behind. “Guilty as charged.”

And unfortunately, it seemed your son had inherited that troublesome quirk of yours and it’s beginning to break Toji’s infuriated heart because whenever he tries to give Megumi a kiss…

“Mmph—“

There it was.

Toji’s eyes shot open, grimacing as Megumi turns his head away, his eyes trained stubbornly on his dog plushie, and his chubby hands pushing his poor papa’s chin away with all the might a six-month-old like him could muster. And to top things off, he must be imagining things because newborns surely couldn’t scowl right? Their tiny little brains couldn’t possibly have enough electrical energy to charge a snow globe much less, learn how to hate certain people’s kisses.

“You little shit—“

Sure enough, the tiny little baby seems gravely unamused, his eyebrows are knitted, the corner of his lips curled into a disappointed frown as if to say: Go kiss someone else, you even bigger shit.

Toji mirrors the unfriendly scowl on his son’s face, noting how Megumi seems to be glaring at him. Oh, okay. The brat ain’t messing around, his eyes twitches but somehow, Toji is also a picture of a proud father. At least the little shit’s got spunk. And he wonders momentarily who he should blame for that.

Definitely not him, that’s for sure.

Toji doesn’t recall the last time he’s ever had the comforts of a peace like this one. Actually, this might just be the first time that Toji knew what that word meant: “peace”. A freedom from disturbance; tranquility, as per the Merriam Webster Dictionary. But Toji has a better definition for peace: you and Megumi.

But…

“I meant what I said to your mother though,” Toji engages in a one-way conversation with his son. He won’t recall any of this, but it didn’t hurt for Toji to be candid about his feelings every now and then especially when it came to this little one that came accidentally into your lives but brightened it up nonetheless. “The two of you would be better off — maybe even happier — with someone else.” He presses his thumb against Megumi’s cheek. “It’s what you two deserve.”

He’s been gone close to a whole day now and you were probably beginning to worry. Out of all the shitty things Toji has done, this, by far, has to be the shittiest. Standing outside a pachinko den, his back pressed against the wall, and his hand absentmindedly playing with the tokens he just bought. When he left the apartment that day, you knew that could very well be the last time you ever see him. Types like him aren’t keen on the whole picket fence idea of settling down.

“I’m heading out today.”

Your blood runs cold when Toji steps into the kitchen to inform you of his plans. You don’t even bother to look at him, your gaze simply settled on the positive pregnancy test on the table. The right thing to do was to stay, he should have held you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be okay not plant seeds of doubt in your mind by taking off and running away like a coward.

But for once, Toji was scared.

He had no business becoming a father when he’s lived in a dysfunctional household for majority of his life. What good would he even impart to his child? His pathetic existence has been a picture of disorder that was only recently resolved when you came into the picture. Well, if he were being completely honest, he still hasn’t figured things out quite as well yet. And as a father, that could be catastrophic for a child that required stability if nothing else.

Frowning, Toji leaves the pachinko den, chucking the tokens in the trash. It was far too early in the day to be hanging around shady places like these anyway. He wanders the streets for a good while, his hands buried in his jacket’s pockets as his mind swirls with thoughts about the all too terrifying future.

A pang of guilt strikes his heart and he wonders what you’re doing now. You must still be in the kitchen, your face buried in your hands as you try to think of something. You were probably assuming he wasn’t coming back. After all, you did say: “I don’t wanna pressure you into staying, Toji. You deserve to live your life the way you want it.”

A life without you? Sounds pretty miserable.

Toji must have been walking on autopilot because for some reason, he unknowingly finds himself in front of a bank. Mizuho Bank, Toji reads the sign, his eyes flicking over to one of the posters plastered on the window about opening a savings account.

He looks at the promotional material, transfixed at the picture of a family of four donning on those typical wide stupid grins in ads, the father is holding a hundred yen bill and is seen dropping it into a piggy bank that was filled with both cash and words like: health insurance, family vacation, utility bills, rent, tax, school, and…happiness.

…

…

…

Toji returns to the apartment at around eight in the evening after making a quick stop at the supermarket and the pharmacy. He finds you asleep on the couch, your cheeks stained with dry tears. He crouches on the edge of the couch, worriedly taking in your appearance. You’ve been crying. “Hey…hey, wake up,” he gently shakes you awake and your tired eyes flutter open. “Got you something.”

He holds out a shopping bag, chock full of fresh produce, and from the pharmacy, some camphor oil to relieve your symptoms and those folate supplements the attending pharmacist kept yapping about.

“You didn’t leave,” you said, bewildered. “I thought you—“

“—You thought wrong,” Toji says firmly. He pulls out something from his back pocket and you stare at him, perplexed.

“A bank passbook?” You open it to see that Toji had just made his first deposit amounting to fifty thousand yen earlier today. “You opened a savings account?”

Toji nods, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah,” he tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Every week, we’ll be depositing fifteen thousand yen in that thing. Ten thousand for your maternity needs, and five for the little brat’s schooling one day.”

Tears spring to your eyes upon realizing that Toji was here to stay. “You mean you’re—?” You are cut off by a warm kiss on your lips, and you place a hand over Toji’s chest, your fingertips gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips move against yours. He pulls away after a while.

“Gonna spite the hell out of the Zenin clan and send my brat to the most expensive preschool in Tokyo? Yes, I am.”

Toji sighs, his thumb rubbing across Megumi’s chubby cheek. “But maybe — just maybe — hear me out and don’t you give me another glare.” Megumi’s not gonna remember any of this. After all, memories begin when the brain can fully register speech. But Toji felt the need to say this so, subconsciously, his son will understand just how much he’s done and he’s willing to do for the both of you.

“…Maybe I deserve the two of you too, you know.”

Megumi looks up at his father, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Toji sticks his tongue out at the little one causing the latter to…hiccup? Nah, Toji was sure that was a giggle.

Smirking, Toji leans down to give his son a kiss, thinking he’s patched things up between them now only for Megumi to curl up again, his feet and hands resisting against Toji, his lip downturned in effort as he pushes him away yet again. Conceding, Toji grumbles, rubbing the spot where Megumi roughly pushed him away.

“You really are your mother’s son.”

[blarshwritezz]

Hi can I request a yandere boyfriend x sub reader where yan thought he saw the reader with another man and he decides to show the reader that he wouldn't need anyone except him can yan have a breeding kink and the reader have a degradation kink

Heck yeah!

Jealous Yandere x Reader

M yan x gn reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, jealousy, dubcon(?), degradation, breeding

Jealous!Yan didn't believe his eyes. Was that you? Why were you with another man? He was all you needed! Has he not been loving enough? He gave you everything! Or was it the opposite? Has he been too gentle? Well he didn't want to hurt you! But you were his.

Jealous!Yan came home after a few hours. He needed time to cool off, but you could tell he was furious about something.

"Honey, what's wrong?" But he didn't answer. Well, not exactly. His only response was slamming his lips against yours in a harsh kiss. Even when you tried to pull away, his grip only tightened and brought you closer to him.

Jealous!Yan picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom before making quick work of removing your clothes. Finally, his lips detached from yours only to move to your jaw.

Jealous!Yan kissed, sucked, and bit all the way down to your chest. He growled "Mine" before continuing, his fingers now diligently working to pleasure your lower areas.

When he needed more, he roughly grabbed your thighs and pushed your knees up to your shoulders, revealing your pretty hole. He gave it a few good licks, making sure you were nice and wet before penetrating you with his cock.

"Fucking mine. All fucking mine. You don't need anyone else." He watched your face contort with pleasure as he pounded into you. The moans escaping your lips were music to his ears. "Fuck, you're such a slut for me. My goddamn whore."

He smirked at how you clenched tighter around him. "Like that? You like being my bitch?" His pace sped up, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.

"Gonna fill you up, make sure nobody else wants to touch you. Make sure you're my filthy slut. All mine." He could only imagine how good you'd look with a baby in you, regardless of if you were able to get pregnant. He was going to pump you full of his cum as if he really could impregnate you.

You'd just look so good all swollen and round. Then the whole world would see you were his and his alone. Just the thought had his cock twitching inside you.

"Say I'm the only man you need. Say it!" He gripped your hair, his thrusts getting sloppy. He just needed to hear you say it. Just a few words from that pretty little mouth and he'd be filling you up in no time.

"Y-you...n-need you!" You barely managed to speak through your incoherent moans, but that was all he needed. With one last thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and filled you with his seed, the action making you cum as well.

After a minute or two of just panting, both of you catching your breath, he started up again. "That's a good slut." You were going to be here for a while.

And there it is! I ki da switched writing styles like halfway through for some reason

[leoivys]

𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝒀𝑬𝑨𝑹'𝑺 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑭𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑶𝑵 — 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; fluff, a hint of angst and implied smut

– summary; spending new years with your childhood best friend with who you spent a night with

– word count; 1.2k

– a/n; This is rushed, late, and my first time writing smut. But happy (late) new year! ♡

Your friendship with Jason goes way back, even before he became the vigilante he is today. When you used to play in the garden of the Wayne Manor and always ended up getting a bit too rough, leaving your knees bruised and bloody before Alfred would fix them up for you. The young boy would sit by your side and hold your hand as he muttered butchered apologies – he wouldn't hurt you. It was never his intention.

The small frown of pure concern etched on his face every time you got hurt as he rushed to your side in order to help in any way he possibly could always give you a feeling of security.

He was always there for you like you were for him, earning titles like his most trusted associate in the militia, his closest friend before and after what happened to him in Arkham, his first time.

That night, when you promised no romantic attachments to each other – even after you saw a grown man who had missed so much of his life due to what he had to go through so vulnerable under you; reacting to your every touch, letting you taste the desperation on his tongue as he pulled you in a bruising kiss to muffle any sounds of weakness his mind was encouraging him to let out for you to hear. A man people have learned to fear in such a short period was writhing – no, begging, for you to not take your hands off him.

Where had his innocence gone? You couldn't help but wonder how this messy, broken person that was currently kneeling before your frame was the same one you grew up with, and God help him, for he was so far gone. His cold hands rested on your thighs, keeping them in place; his touch gentle against the softness of your skin in contrast to his rough one as he made his best efforts to impress you.

Jason took his time, his logic skills? Long forgotten. A faint smile tugged on his lips. He allowed himself to feel the taste of your ‘essence’ on his tongue overwhelm his senses – visibly shivering while he found himself mindlessly admiring you as much as each and every one of your pleasant reactions. Communication skills? Completely turned off, and you could tell when you noticed him mumble incoherent gibberish all in a pathetic attempt to beg.

You were brought back to the present when Jason's sigh of disappointment echoed in the emptiness of the room, another group of militia soldiers had lost their base to the one person he made a promise to kill – the Bat.

His expression grew tired. You could tell, regardless of the mask that he hid himself beneath and all the armor he used to protect his scars, you knew him that well. As soon as the fuzz of the mask's robotic effect faded, you spoke up, “I hope you follow along with the plans we have.”

Your intentions were clear; try to get Jason to cheer up a little, and the bare minimum was to at least help him get his mind off of everything he had going on. Although, your remark earned you a huff of air before his mask was lifted by the press of one button. “Alright… You're a pain, you know that?” He responded with a playful hint to his usually serious voice, a look of defeat settled in his expression.

In your books, that was a win.

It's funny seeing how people ignore the cold for the sake of getting the preparations ready for their guests or those who are lucky enough to expect family members to come back to spend their holidays back at home. The house filling up with chatter and laughter in every corner is a miracle not everyone had the chance to enjoy.

Sometimes life doesn't turn out exactly how you expect. The kind of thoughts that consumed your mind weren't anything other than what you had done in your course of life, leaving your vision clouded.

“You're uncharacteristically early.” Jason pointed out with a tinge of playfulness to his tone. He never had the difficulty of calling you out on your bullshit. New Year's Eve. You had arranged something casual, changing into another year and hoping for the best atop a rooftop where the big screen of the city's center was visible, and a champagne ready to be opened after the countdown and emptied into the two glasses he had brought along.

It wasn't long until the countdown had already begun, people's voices echoing in the city's filled streets along with yours harmonizing with Jason's rough one. The light of the bright screens brightened its surroundings, making the thin layer of snow shimmer in the darkness the midnight sky had to offer – a sparkle that reminded you of Jason's eyes, but you quickly snapped out of it.

His drunken smile was a sight for sore eyes, bearing all of his teeth like he used to when he was less broken – his little smile. Jason’s gaze seemed focused on every part of you, and at the same time, he looked so out of it. You couldn't feel even just a little grateful that the alcohol had gotten to his head and momentarily lost the mask he had grown such an attachment to, so much that he preferred it.

It was the same Jason under all the walls he had built up around himself when his the most important years of his life were snatched away from his shaky hands, the very same that cradled you after nightmares that left you heaving and searching for your sanity among the most vulnerable pieces of yourself, the ones that you held onto during the freezing nights like this to stabilize yourself upon the ice that had settled on the ground.

Jason, with his fucked up past – one of the few ones who had every right to be mad at the world and rough around the edges to the world for turning its back, yet you were his world and he chose to be gentle. You were his witness as a feather-like touch ran down your arm and made itself comfortable over your hand.

The scent of the bubbly drink on the tip of his tongue brought you back to the present. It was clear that he was lightheaded, but part of him was still aware of his surroundings. Well, he was anyway, until he rested his head on your shoulder without a single care in the world. “I love you.” He muttered, his breath coming out in a cloud of fog in contrast to the coldness of the world.

The words slip out easier than he could ever imagine, but he means it. This time was unlike any other time before. He wasn't comforting his best friend or hugging them goodbye because he was leaving for a mission. It was a confession and a drunken one at that.

Jason hadn't lost himself. “Happy New Year, Jay.” You muttered. A sharp sigh escaped him as he allowed himself to get overwhelmed by the feeling of your hand rushing through his hair.

A new year comes with new beginnings, and maybe this year can be better than what you expected.

[frownyalfred]

Forgive me if this slightly incoherent- I'm sick rn but I had thoughts

The three probationary leagues are young, in a way many capes aren't at their ages (over 18 but none older then 22). The trio are new to being capes, their powers manifesting later then most, and even after their power came in, they took even longer to become capes. The three weren't friends before they joined the league, but as new kids, and the fact all three were always grouped together for training, they quickly became friends.

Being a member of the Justice League is everything they've always wanted, and there is nothing the three wouldn't do to keep their places.

Often training with Batman (they don't understand why a full human has so much power in the league, but they do understand why they hate him- Batman works them past where they thought they could go. He treats everything like life or death, and crushes the glamor of being a hero under fucking paperwork and regulations upon regulations.)

So when the trio learn, the hard way why the justice league has rules on proper item detainment, why, regardless of how normal or mundane the item seems, you tag and collect it, and submit a report on it, why panic.

As probationary recruits, they don't have the resources or access to try and fix this without telling one of the Founders. And the youngest of them, the 19 year old with powers of water manipulation, insists that Batman will kick them out for this, they have to find another way- well, the other two share a look and agree.

They argue about what to do and who to ask for help hiding their mistakes, as they stand in the rubble that was once half of a town of 40,000. After all, tornadoes are destructive, and magical, fire tornadoes? The damage is catastrophic. But in the end, they agree, Nightwing is the best person to ask. He's friendly with everyone, and he'll even swap moniter room shifts with people so he has watch with Batman, who is objectly thr worst to be trapped in small room with for 4 to 6 hours. Plus, he's sat with each of them at least once and promised making mistakes happens and you just have to stand up and keep moving.

So, they go to Nightwing, all three of them feeling a wave of relief when they see his smiling, cheerful face, and beg for help.

"Please, we've stopped the artifact, and it's been properly contained now. We just need you to sign a few things, so no one investigates the damages to the town. This is our dream, and we've learned from our mistake. Please, you always say we need to have each other's back. We just knew you would be able to help and understand."

But Nightwing's face freezes, at first, then hardens, in a way that scares the trio even though the smile never falters. His body, Shifts, in way that suddenly seems... threatening, and the trio nervously share glances, and slowly they start to understand where the real mistakes have been made.

Yes exactly this!!!!!!!!

[4rticbolt]

A Swordsman’s Love |Master-list|

GN!Reader, Fluff, angst if you squint, comfy comfort

First one-shot ish, too long for a Drabble! Basically a run down on Zoro’s love for you, yap sesh, and vulnerable moments with the lovable swordsman.

…………………………………..

Zoro’s love language is quality time, maybe with a mix of acts of service here and there, but regardless you couldn’t change my mind.

Despite how ‘cold’ and ‘rough’ he may be, he’s just a little more emotionally constipated. And he tends to be a bit forward and blunt with his love. Even if it at first it doesn’t come across that way.

He is nowhere near as romantically inclined as the cook, and compared to Sanji, Zoro’s actions speak more than words.

Zoro doesn’t really care for all that gushy, sweet, blabbering- it’s not really his style, nor his strong suit. And of course he can have his moments with you, being unironically sweet or flirty or even splitting to a grumbling blushing mess the next, it’s just the way he is.

The time he spends with you, is a whole ‘nother story. It’s incredibly important to him and the basic building blocks of your relationship. It’s what you both really tend to feed off of, even if a certain stubborn swordsman won’t admit it.

An often occurrence between you two, is him dragging you for a nap; tossing you over his shoulder, without a care.

“M’tired, nap.”

“So.. I was relaxing?”

“What? And you can’t do that with me?” He prompts bluntly, carrying you through the hallway towards the men’s quarters. His arm’s securely wrapped around your thighs, and his left hand casually wanders to your end, gently gripping the hem of your shirt. Making sure to keep you stable in his hold, as you lean up slightly on his shoulder.

“Well, yeah I can, but it’s different when I’m in the sun,” you grumble, trying to ignore his tendencies, softly glaring towards him. Trying not to ignore the way his hand wandered, or the way his words dully striked your heart. Attempting to push past those feelings, you try to protest again but he cuts you off…

“And I’m plenty warm, I don’t see what your issue is.” He responds, effectively shutting you up. With another incoherent mumble on your end, it isn’t long till you’re placed up in the hammock-like bed, and he’s up there with you- caging you in.

And, if you’ve noticed, Zoro isn’t the chatty type, given that trait, one of his favorite things to do is listen to you.

Whether you’re sitting on his lap, or resting by his side, watching him train, you name it- talking about whatever your heart desires: he’s listening to you.

Your voice is like a coolant to him, easing away his pain, distracting his mind to focus all his thoughts to you.

Zoro tends to make mental notes when you say something you like…or love, even hate. Surprising you when you’re sick, or sad- even out of the blue he still remembers it, and frankly it warms your heart.

Thinking no one would know or remember, but somehow he does. He’d always picked up on your silent cues, whether emotionally or physically he could just tell. Even if he couldn’t exactly explain it, he just knew.

Likewise, when you’d gotten a nasty fever bed ridden for days, he’d stuck by your side (as most of the crew would). But he knew you hated being alone, surrounded in silence, and left to yourself, missing the company of the boisterous crew. He could only hope his presence was enough.

And it always was.

Of course he’d slapped a cold rag over your face, telling you to get better so he could train- but he meant well.

And the discrete gentle lapses of his fingers, soothing you to sleep proved that. Not to mention the way his hand brushed your hair out of your face, eventually tucking you in.

Moreover, to put the cherry on top, Sanji had brought you in one of your favorite foods, yet you didn’t know how because you’d never mentioned it… so you ultimately suspected Zoro had begrudgingly asked the cook to make it for you.

You didn’t question him about it, but you did thank him as he dozed off by your side. Awkwardly leaned against you, making your legs go numb, but that was your lovable idiot. You’d take what you could get.

And there was always so little but so very much of him, and you cherished every second of it.

Zoro always looked out for you, sometimes in ways you couldn’t tell.

The way his eyes followed you as you climbed down from the crows-nest. Exhausted after a morning watch, eyes-bags of a literal panda, he made sure you made it down safe, and if there was ever a moment you wouldn’t, he’d be there for you.

Ready to catch you if you fell, tripping on a stair or even stubbing your toe- he’d had an instinct at this point. Given your clumsy nature. But that was just Zoro’s protective charm.

Silent, sometimes brooding, a definite RBF that scared away any weirdos…he was your safespace.

And your guard dog

But no one would outrightly say that. He could be as brash and avoiding as he wanted to be, but he could never run from you, nor hide his feelings. Well anyways.

His touch tended to be rough and calloused, you were usually manhandled- not that you minded. Often one and done, or pushed against a wall and kissed senseless.

It was a deep love. The type of love where if someone asked you why you loved eachother, you wouldn’t be able to tell them. You were just drawn, like some gravitational pull.

And in the warm after dawn of the hours, locked in his hold, limbs entangled and snoring bruisingly loud in your ear, he was still your’s. Trusting you enough to be vulnerable like this, holding you sleepily in his arms, he loved you.

He never often said it, but when he did, he’d always meant it.

Zoro was never one to beat around the bush, and miscommunication had never really been an issue for you two.

However, without being told your loved and wanted- that you were important, overthinking can tend to flourish. Often leading to you doubting your abilities, and if you’re really worth the time or the effort at all.

Once he figured out you’d been doubting yourself, letting your mind get the better of you, he wasn’t disappointed, nor angry, just confused.

Like I said, Zoro’s a little emotionally constipated…so you’d just have to be simple and straightforward with him.

He couldn’t just magically understand what the problem was, and you either told him in a heated discussion. Or a breakdown with tears- but either method worked, because he’d be there for you regardless.

Zoro would be stunned for a moment, a blank sheet, but the words would eventually register and his gaze would soften. He’d come closer pulling you in for a hug. Letting his hands wash over skin, comfortably sinking beneath your clothes…and wiping away any of the very tears he didn’t mean to cause.

He didn’t really know what to think, he didn’t blame you, but he did slightly blame himself. He also thought you needed to toughen up a bit, but he never meant it harshly.

More in a joking way if anything, but as he said it, he’d realized it was not the right time. And as he watched you burst into tears, he felt his heart shatter and his brain fry. He had to completely freeze for a moment before stepping in.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- ____ please don’t cry,” he’d mutter and shush, gently grabbing your face as he tried to wipe away your tears.

If that didn’t work he’d hug you until you stopped, pulling you to his lap or side, guarding you and soothing you with his filling touch, trying to ease your worries.

He’d curse the world and himself for letting it get this far, or get this bad without him even realizing what the deep rooting issue was. But he wouldn’t let you feel that way any longer. And despite your insecurities it never once tainted you or your relationship in his eyes.

To put it simply, if you didn’t feel loved, then he’d simply have to remind you, and assure you relentlessly until you did.

He’d bring your teary eyes to look to back into his, holding your face once again as he’d repeated the words he often didn’t say. Looking determinedly down to you.

“____ look at me, ____ I love you, I. Love. You.”

He never once fawned you weak, nor sensitive, but he wished you’d realize how important you are to him, and how much he loves you.

The literal Straw Hat to his Luffy, or the SUPER to his Franky, it simply wouldnt be the same without you. And he’d stand stubbornly by it no matter what your thoughts had to offer. You were his to love, his to hold, and his cherish.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ultimately, a swordsman’s love like Zoro’s is indefinitely hard to tell, it depends on how you see him really. Though, out of all honestly, he was just a kid forced to grow up way too fast.

As he serves as a first-mate on the crew, his ‘job’ is to protect and take care of the others, especially you. In the real light, he’ll try to downplay it. Playing it cool as secretly he dignifies you, a lot more than he’d ever give credit for.

In deeper terms, this is where his acts of service, and quality time comes further into play.

His worry for you is strong, whether you can fight or not, you’re in sharp terms on his radar- and he can’t help it.

You’re not fragile to him, you never are, but in the moments where you’re injured, it’s like he has tunnel vision. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. He can’t stand seeing you in pain, suffering, when it was his job to protect you in the first place.

You’re his.

Maybe…just maybe he’s on the overprotective side, often never letting you out of his sight when injured, reminding you to rest, or pulling you in for more naps. He just needs to be with you, and make sure you’re okay, and safe.

And if there was ever a time you weren’t, he’d silently offer to tend to your wounds, re-bandage them if Chopper was unable to, or just do it because he want to. Or to prove a point.

You tended to insist you could do it alone. But he doesn’t budge, he never did. He’s stubborn, and strong minded, so when his mind is set on something it is very hard to break.

“____ Can you just let me-?”

“No,” you said shakily, crossing your arms over your stomach, covering the bandages that blood leaked from. “I said it’s fine, you don’t need too, Chopper will be back in a bit.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna wait and let you bleed out, just c’mere and sit your ass down,” he scoffed, walking over to you with a huff.

“I’m not gonna bleed out-“

“If I don’t re-bandage it and put some pressure on it yeah, you are,” Zoro finished, snapping half-heartedly as he carefully grabbed you, pulling you to sit against the lounge. It wasn’t long till he had a wad of bandages, antiseptic, and his larger hands on either side of you.

Despite Zoro being a dummy, you forget how tender and smart he could be in situations like these. They way he knew what to do, and how to treat you…but that was probably learned throughout the hundreds of injuries he’d sustained.

The way he most likely picked up on the tricky techniques, was because he watched Chopper tend them.

You couldn’t find a response, unknowing of what to say- given you didn’t know how to talk to him when he was like this. Not to mention you weren’t used to being cared for, it caused a bittersweet feeling to say in the least.

Yet somehow, despite your struggles Zoro exceeded at caring for you.

You had to look away as he kneeled beside you, trying to distract yourself as he leaned you back. Carefully, peeling up your shirt as he dealt with the old and wrapped in with the new.

You had to take your mind off the pain, staring up at the wooded ceiling, watching the soft glow that emmitted from the tank. Covering the room in a tinted blue, almost as if you were wearing ski-goggles.

Suddenly cursing, a shaky groan slipped past your stubborn filter, reeling from the pain of the antiseptic. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on something else. Anything else. Like Zoro’s touch, rather than the pain that was caused by it, “You done yet?”

“Just relax,” he sighed, dabbing the antiseptic over the newly done stitches “Your almost done. And I told you to take it easy,” The swordsman lectured, closing his eyes for a split second as he heard another pained sound.

He hated hearing you like that, much less seeing it.

“Sorry,” he apologized, quickly finishing up the tantalizing process, before gently reaching his hands behind your back, leaning you up.

“Just hold on to me yeah?”

You nodded, letting him bring your arms to his shoulders, fighting the urge to lean against him.

But before you knew it, he brought his hand to the nape of you neck, gently guiding you towards him as he successfully wrapped the bandages around our waist.

His hand gingerly combed through your hair, and he kissed your temple, letting his other hand travel in soothing motions along your back. He always knew what to do to calm your nerves, and you melted into his touch.

“Rest pretty, I gotcha.” He mumbled, kissing your jaw before leaning back against the lounge, holding you securely in his arms.

“I gotcha..”

…………………………………..

[scftpcws]

Naaaah because my boy Ollie is a complete freak! That dude would be clingy and rough AF and I'm here for it. Please please! 🥺

Warning! MDNI18+ some filthy ass shit. and terrible writing please read at your own risk.

smut under the cut 💋

i have been deathly absent for a while but i am here to say… yes. yes the fuck he would be a freak because have you SEEN him. he is a dangerous individual.

i feel like he would have a lot if repressed desires that he would keep from you. he wouldn’t even tell Felix about them, because when has he ever told anyone the truth??

he debated a few times whether or not he should tell you the depraved things he wanted from the two of you’s sex life, but every time he got close he backed out because he didn’t want to weird you out or worse, scare you away.

I feel like he would totally be into some predator x prey dynamic type stuff. he isn’t sure why he’s into it, maybe its the thrill if chasing you through the Maze or giving you 30 seconds to find a hiding space in Saltburn Estate, and spending a dreadful amount of time “trying” to find you, despite knowing exactly where you are every time. he knows you, knows your mind. of course he does, he spent months, possibly years (depending on how long you managed to evade his addictive personality) dissecting that pretty little brain of yours so that he knew every thought process, every detail. he is obsessed with you and that definitely transfers into the way he fucks you.

he’s slow at first. its a mind game, he wants you to beg for him and he knows that by the end of the night you will, regardless of how defiant you may be. I feel like because of this, he may also be into CNC. obviously you two would consent to it and make a list of rules and things that were okay and not okay. he would abide by all of these rules, because again, he respects your boundaries and doesn’t want you to leave him. he would fuck you nice and slow until your fussy and whining for him to go faster, to fuck you harder.

“What was that little lamb? speak up for me.” he would whisper sweetly into your ear, thrusting hard just once into you, watching the way your eyes toll back into your head. “I need it Ollie.” you whine, tears falling from your eyes in frustration.

“Need what love? Do i look like a mind reader? tell me what you want and you can have it.” he slowly begins to rub your clit in gentle and agonising circles. “I want you to fuck me.” you were breathless and almost delerious with pleasure.

“Want?” “ Oh honey, I thought you needed it? What, you dont need me anymore, hmm? don’t need to feel my love for you? don’t need to feel me break you?” he ask, his once languid thrust coming to a halt. You whine without restraint, cursing him with your teeth clenched dur to the sudden lack if pleasure.

“Tell me you crave me. Tell me you need me, how you can’t breathe without me, how im everything you need. Tell me.” he says, his lips against your ear, his hand round your throat grip tightened, causing your breathing to strain.

“I need you! Please i need to feel you. only you can fuck me this good, please Ollie. make me feel better, i need you to make me feel better…please.” the last please was a desperate whine, so pathetic Ollie had to throw his head back to avoid your soft and innocent gaze. you trailed you hand up to his neck to pull him closer to you, your gaze so piercing and unavoidable that he almost came, his thick cock unmoving in your tight cunt.

“Please Sir.”

oh that one did it. His pace was instantly bruising, so violent that if you didn’t know the extent of his love, you might have thought he wanted you dead. you almost didn’t recognise him. he was like a wild animal, his only aim to fuck you into oblivion.

he mumbled a mix of incoherent praise and degrading comments as your throat became hoarse from your scream like moans. the crying for him to slow down only spurred him on, causing him to shove his fingers in you mouth to dampen your onslaught of noises.

he fuck you dangerously for what could have been hours. you lost count of how many times you came around him. your body felling fuzzy and limp. seeing you so braindead for him had him unleashing what quite easily could have been his 7th load of the night. he watched as a dumb, lopsided grin etched its way into your lips as you felt the warmth of his cum flood your cunt once more.

“look at you so pretty for me, my pretty little lamb.”

well… im back.. i think..

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand (Part 1)

TW: suicide attempt, mentions of self harm, smut (kinda), yandere shenanigans

okay i mayyy have made this after like seeing a bunch of hot construction workers around my campus doing tinkering and shit and my saviour complex is also kinda flaring up too

and also this is my first ever cringefail yandere, he's not rich and he barely has connections and mans was suicidal

enjouy

Part 2

Everyone doesn't know why you didn't just block him, call the cops on him, or just... anything! You don't either.

This man has been following you around for months now. Leaving you flowers on your office desk, dropping parcels of gifts in front of your door, and visiting your workplace to give you boxes of freshly made takeout.

He's not much of a talker. Maybe it's because he can't exactly speak English well. But that was the only language he had ever spoken or written in before, as far as you know.

He's definitely intimidating everyone around you. Standing at an imposing height of what you think is 6'5, his back alone is usually enough to block the sun from your eyes. With his shaggy, brown hair covering his eyes, unkempt stubble covering his face and scruffy clothes; he usually wears an olive green shirt under his very worn chore jacket and a pair of shabby khaki pants. The man wears a pair of mildly tattered combat boots. He isn't ugly, perse, but he definitely isn't the standard of beauty in society. Your stalker has this rugged and disheveled vibe to him that some may like and most look down upon.

You think he's homeless, living in his beaten car and going to public gyms to shower. You've never seen him eating something he cooked himself, it's either he's eating something out of a styrofoam box, or a package good from convenience stores.

But he isn't unemployed. You know he is a construction worker, you caught him many times staring at you longingly as you hasten your pace, fleeing the soon-to-be shopping complex near your office. He was carrying a heavy set of wooden planks on his shoulder effortlessly, the stranger wiped his sweat using the back of his hand before adjusting his hard hat.

You didn't know that he worked in this field when you first met him. You always had a good heart... or at least a heart that simply cannot handle bystander guilt.

You were walking towards the subway one day, and it was late because you agreed to work overtime. The sky was pitch black, and the only thing that illuminated the path ahead was the lamps swarmed by millions of moths.

Entering the tunnel, there were only a few people around; either waiting for the train, for someone, or for a miracle. Regardless of what they're there for, they're all occupied in their own little world.

You were about to be immersed in the world of social media too, but your blasted phone died. So you're forced to stand in silence and become aware of your surroundings, nothing to numb yourself from the daily mundaneness.

And it was this awareness that led you to notice the man in the first place. You were guarded, taking a few steps away from him as he seemed extremely intoxicated. He was swaying and stumbling, in his calloused hand, held a brown glass bottle with liquid sloshing in it. The man was mumbling something, but it was too soft and incoherent for you to hear. He kept wiping his face using the back of his knuckles.

He, just like everyone else except you, is in his own personal hell too. He spared no attention for you or anything else except his own drunken stupor, so you deem it relatively safe to watch him from where you're standing. The stranger is your only source of entertainment at the moment anyway, the train is coming soon, so why not watch him for a bit more and laugh at him internally for being at his lowest? Certainly, it would never happen to you.

You were snapped out of your own thoughts when you saw him going dangerously close to the ledge, crossing over the yellow line. At the same time, the sounds of wind rushing and rumbling reached your ears, if he falls onto the rails, he will definitely be done for. You looked behind your shoulder and saw bright lights coming from one end of the tunnel, calculating that you only have a couple seconds to make your decision.

You shouted for his attention, catching it and a few others around you. He stared at you with bloodshot, glassy eyes. However, he lost his footing and was about to fall to his ultimate demise.

The adrenaline rush amplified by the roar of the train wheels made you propel your feet toward him. You stretched your arm, grabbed him by the back of his jacket, and yanked him out of the danger zone with all your might. It definitely wasn't easy to move this hunky mass at all, but you did. And you saved him just at the nick of time, as the train rushed by, blasting a gust of wind against the two of you.

You must have underestimated your strength because he was flung back at high speeds. He grabbed your arm by instinct, trying to re-balance himself, and brought you down to the grimy subway floor with him.

You groan as you rush to sit up, cradling the arm that made contact with the ground. Scowling at the stranger for pulling such a stupid stunt in his inebriated state, upset that now you had a few pairs of judging eyes on you. You froze when you saw his eyes though, a unique glimmer made its way to his dark irises. His mouth is slightly ajar, he is staring at you with such intense reverence and adoration which you mistake as a mere alcoholic's intoxicated stare.

You screeched when he suddenly emptied the contents of his stomach on your work blouse. Shouting angry curses at him as his head was slumped to the ground and his eyelids shut.

You got up and tried to swipe as much puke away from you as you ran to the train. The last you saw him that night was in an extremely pathetic state, unconscious in his own puddle of vomit, a bottle of booze rolling away from him. People either crossed over him or walked over his body, sparing a few glances of pity or contempt before boarding the train themselves.

You thought that you were never going to see him again, with that much alcohol in his system, you would be surprised that he could even remember his own name. And you couldn't be more wrong.

A few days after that, you were in the same station, taking the same train because your boss needed you to finish the report by that day. This time, you're exhausted. Not sleeping, eating or enjoying your hobbies puts a toll on your energy levels, what a surprise.

You were nodding off in the train, struggling to keep yourself awake.

Maybe if you let yourself doze off, you'll wake up just in time for your stop. And so, you did, you let yourself drift into slumberland.

It was a mistake.

You were harshly woken up with a torch shining in your eyes and a booming voice telling you that the both of you have to leave, as this is the last stop. Lifting your head from a headrest, which actually was someone's broad shoulder. But you didn't realize that.

You were still half asleep, groggily and hastily gathering your things, not registering that the employee was also referring to another person in your proximity.

You muttered a small good night to the staff before exiting the train, yawning and stretching. Smacking your lips as you realized that your briefcase wasn't with you, must've left it back on your seat. So you turned around and walked forwards, only to ram yourself onto what you thought was an oddly shaped pillar. Cussing under your breath as you stumbled backwards, rubbing your head.

You let out a shocked yelp when you realized that it's the man instead. You were about to say something to him but your eyes landed on his side; he was holding the suitcase for you.

You stammered a quick thank you as you snatched it away from him, picking up the pace as you walked away. Howeever, you heard footfalls behind you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him following closely behind.

Perhaps he is also looking for an exit, so you silently lead the way to the nearest opening. But as you walk, you start to wonder; did he purposely stayed on the train with you? If he had to go somewhere he would have gotten off by then, if this was his stop, he would have left before the lights went out.

Finally, having to breath in fresh air once you exit the dusty station, you turned to look at him. Trying to discern which way is he heading.

He isn't moving. The man stood next to your side, staring straight ahead. As if he's waiting for you to take another step. After a few more seconds of idling, he turned his gaze to you.

Understandably being creeped out by this, you told him not to follow you. He blinked a couple times before continuing to stare.

Sighing, you asked him if he is lost. And you got no response.

You asked him if he is stupid. And you got no response.

Not giving a shit anymore, you picked a direction and walked. It's a long walk home and there will not be any trains left until the sun rises. As expected, he followed you all the way.

He is useful in warding off midnight catcallers and other seedy individuals that hang around alleys and empty streets. Who wouldn't be wary of him? He looks like he could easily pick them up by the scruff and fling them to the rooftops. But that means he could do that to you too, and that isn't comforting to know at all.

You reached home after an hour and a half of walking. The man is still on your trail, crowding you around the door as you unlocked it. You opened the door and immediately slipped in, he tried entering as well but you slammed it against his face. He watches you lock and latch your door through the window, he placed his hand on the glass and clawed at it a bit. You simply drew the curtains shut, praying hard that he isn't going to be there by sunrise.

Your prayers wasn't answered because you decided to check up on him an hour later. You saw him laying on the porch with his eyes closed and that tugged at your heartstrings a bit.

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation that is lowering your inhibitions, or you're just lonely and he doesn't look half bad. It could also be the cold one you cracked open that's screwing up with your soberness. Either way, you would have given yourself shit for opening the door and letting him in your house while the world is still asleep. If you get murdered, at least you won't need to go to work next week.

It was a blur, you remembered bits and pieces of his hands roaming your bare back, his cock impaling into you as he sloppily kissed you from the jaw to your neck. How his rough fingers fondled your genitals and how you were gripping your bedsheets as if your life depended on it.

Bouncing on him while you shoved your tongue down his throat was fun, especially when he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, preventing you from escaping him. Feeling the pleasant pressure on you as he pinned you to the firm bed. It was kind of him to shield your head with his hand from hitting the bedframe while he plows you from behind, iron gripping your hips with the other.

You remember starting it, demanding that he gives you something in exchange for staying a night here, you remembered pulling him into a deep, passionate, drunken kiss before he has a foot into the living room. You didn't give a shit about knowing his name or if he had any STDs, you just need to release a lot of frustrations.

You woke up hungover, with you being the small spoon while he held you tightly in his strong arms. They were littered in old scars, some clearly self inflicted.

You turned your head to see that he's still asleep, soft snores escaping his lips. Annoying to some.

Squinting as you let the sharp rays of light stab your eyes, you saw that your clothes and his were strewn all over the bedroom, the door wide open with a stray shoe resting next to it's hinges.

You looked at the clock and realized that you're going to be late. Being the workaholic you are, you shook the stranger in your bed awake. He was groaning and quietly whining about not wanting to get up, but shuts up as soon as you hurled his clothes at his face.

He shot up and cowered behind his arms as you continued throwing his articles of clothing at him, telling him that he has to leave because you need to go to work.

While he's composing himself, you rush to the bathroom to take a quick shower, pretending the cold stream of water is washing away all your sins from the night before. You lather up some soap before scrubbing your skin, internally beating yourself up for your irresponsible choices.

A familiar pair of arms snaked around your torso as you're pulled back into a strong chest, a pair of lips decided to flutter smooches on your temple and ear. His hands explored your naked body, utilizing the suds and the water to give you that electrically tingling sensation.

Of course, this intrusion wasn't taken lightly. You screamed and kicked him out of the shower, telling him to leave your house. You caught a glimpse of his confused and crestfallen look in his eyes, paired with his dripping wet hair and sopping wet body.

You finished your business, threw on a set of fresh clothes and rushed out of the door. And definitely dragging him out of there with you too, not giving a crap that he was in the middle of wearing his shirt.

You ran as fast as you could, wanting to catch the next train. And so did he, he chased after you and squeezed himself into the carriage.

Everyone was also rushing to work, there were no seats left nor were there any standing spots. Shoulders were bumping shoulders and the shorter passengers were at an all time disadvantage. You couldn't reach the handles; but he could.

As the door closes, the man held you close to him and rested his free hand on the small of your back. To outsiders, you and him looked like a run of the mill couple having each other. They couldn't be more wrong, you don't even know a single thing about him.

You just endured it, having no choice but to stick next to him. He yawned and frowned, looking quite displeased that he was not in your bed. Well, that's his fault, no one forced him to follow you back home, and no one forced him to stick himself inside of you.

Among the busy chatter in the train, you and him stayed silent. Gradually feeling comfortable in each other's embrace.

You mumbled curses under your breath, he knows where you live and he is going to know where you work. Couldn't this year get any worse?

As soon as the doors open, you make a mad dash out of the station. Running as fast as you could, not caring who you had to shove to clear your way.

You never looked back, but you made sure to take as many detours as possible to mess with his direction if he somehow managed to catch up to you. But your lungs and your out-of-shape-office-worker legs can only take you so far, you reach a nearby tree in a park next to your building.

You panted as you scanned your surroundings, only seeing the elderly, children, athletic adults, and their pets. No sign of that man you slept with last night.

You took a couple more minutes to catch your breath, knowing fully that your boss would chew you up for being close to an hour late. Whatever, you're here now. Let's earn your salary.

So you walked, it's just a couple minutes away. Nothing else should go wrong today-

You had an incredulous look on your face when you saw him loitering at the entrance. Your colleagues glance him up and down, some admiring the way his muscles slightly stick out of his shirt, some wondering what an unkempt hunk like him is doing in front of such a corporate, sanitized venue.

There was no way to sneak past him, you just had to face him. It was... cute that his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you. So you sighed as you marched up to him, requesting him to leave you alone as politely as you could. There was an edge to your tone, he must either be oblivious to it or he's simply choosing to ignore the fact that you're unhappy with him here.

During mid-sentence, he presented you with a paper plate that had a hotdog on it. You were speechless, it had everything on it: ketchup, mustard, relish, pickles, mayonnaise, cheese, Jalapeño slices, onions, beef chili, and other heaps of things that you couldn't identify. With the number of toppings, you couldn't tell that it was a hotdog in the first place, it was just a mountain of random savory foodstuffs. Your eyes darted to his other hand, it also had a hotdog wrapped in a napkin, except his one only had relish.

"I didn't know what you liked..." He mumbled, voice so deep that you could feel the vibrations in your own chest. The man looked at you with hope, wanting you to accept the plate of everything as breakfast.

You shook your head and said you were late to work. Pushing him away from the door before entering the building, some of the topping amalgamations spilled onto his shirt. Probably staining it forever with its oil content.

He stood there with a frown, he craned his head downwards to stare at the spill.

Then, he looked back up to see that you were out of sight. His shoulders sagged as he placed his own hotdog on top of your plate of horrors.

The man walked away as he pulled out a plastic spoon that he tucked in his pocket, it was given to him by the vendor because it is impossible to eat your order with hands.

He began digging in, throwing one last glance at the main door behind him.

[golden-boy-of-the-gazette]

My brain keeps running back to the idea of Danny's first time having sex sooo

Gender neutral reader, nsfw, incredibly brief mention of overstimulation that doesnt even go into detail. Probably has typos and probably isnt formatted too well but I'm just getting thoughts down.

I imagine he wouldnt be too focused on it during school. Seeing as his dad sounded super strict and awful he was probably more focused on school work. Not to mention he was most definitely a loser. Is he pretty? Sure, doesnt change the fact that he was too quiet and got caught staring all the time but once he graduated and was free from the pressures of his father- y'know.

I imagine he would be nervous but wouldnt show it. He wouldn't admit that he's never had sex before so hes sloppy, incredibly sloppy. He doesn't know how to move his hips, where to put his hands- not to mention his doesnt know where the clit is at this point. He is incredibly touchy though, not even in a groping kind of way. In a just barely grazing their skin with his fingertips kind of way. Until it's not. He gets more used to it and starts to get a bit more bold, using his full palm, getting more and more greedy. He starts groping eventually of course but he's starting to want to taste. He uses his mouth. Soft kisses that get hungrier until hes biting, not knowing exactly how to give hickies but hes leaving marks regardless. Hes groping at their thighs, holding them close while he nips at their throat, imagining bitting a chunk out of it. That's what gets him going. Now hes not thinking right. Hes thinking of another design about the person hes with, thinking about killing them and leaving them on display for everyone to see. Thats what's really giving him a hard-on. Not the shitty porn star-ish moans that are reverberating in his ears, no, hes imagining them gurgling, choking on their own blood but- ah. His thoughts are interrupted by the slightest touch on his cock, eliciting a slight grunt of surprise from him.

He tries to take the lead but his movements are so sloppy and poor that he ends up being the bottom, getting ridden instead. He's fussy and loud, scratching at their thighs as he holds back tears from overstimulation. Hes not thinking about his partner during this at all, mind completely blank, only ever thinking about himself. He's muttering useless pleas under his breath that are coming out as incoherent nonsense, tilting his head back and groaning deeply- he doesnt last that long. Maybe 7 or 8 minutes. He doesnt feel bad. Hes ready to go another round but his partner is ultimately left unsatisfied anyway.

[internal-ethics]

so...some tobirama things

[these are my old comments and chats and bullet points so will sound incoherent in a post]

the first major early era capitalist

aside from the literal ninja nuclear bomb jutsu that's his signature, tbrm inventions are all his attempt to redistribute some og bloodline bullshit his bro had and abolish the clan mindset.

shadow clones work the same way as Wood Clones. It tricks all magic eyes, kill time doing shit and for info gathering

flying thunder god is an advanced summoning jutsu (which senju are good at) where "teleporting" just means literally summoning yourself from one place to another as long as you marked the place before. No magic or jutsu could track it.

wood jutsus and sharingans and byakugans are bloodline limits only his bro and big clans could do. he couldnt.

so what do he do? Make similar stuff everyone could learn and do regardless of clans,

Tl dr , bro is an early era capitalist who took power and jutsus from the elite feudal clans, flipped them off together with their clannism, and produced accessible and user friendly means for non-clan , non blood limit people that are willing to pay for it

Cause everyone from big clans was just sticking to themselves and going all Dues ex MACHINA on power

And it really depended on who had the bigger better nukes, who was going to RULE

and that SUCKS for everyone else, the normal people

of course his stuff also served as counters of those very blood limits and middle fingers to them bc he's an bitter asshole that way, just not the kind everyone thinks

in father's time, the eldest son of a clanhead becomes clan heads ALWAYS and they could do what ever they want. this is not father's time. this is the end of the feudal mindset. And the start of their version of democratic national republic, so you gotta get the people's rep votes to decide who rules.

2. sacrifice - the foundations of the new ninja world

Most fans, even his own fans, due to the databook's wording, remember him as "the one who built the village". as in building the infrastructures and concrete things. thats only scratching the surface of who he really was : he IS the village by virtue of his deeds. And the point of him doing all that he does is ...he literally is the only one who ado it to the highest standards and thats both great and ironic, because everyone does it, but NO one else does it like him.

[easy for him to say lol]

he sacrificed himself, so everyone does the same, but others like Shikamaru sacrifice because they think they are the fittest to die, like they are the weakest or most sacrificable. tobiramas sacrifice should have hit hard, bc he sacrificed precisely BECAUSE he was literally the most unfit to die, the strongest, the most nonsensible choice to die. Thats how it paved such a strong legacy. And i think, while not meaning to do anything in that calibre, and never showing these qualities of ninja, and most likely having got a normal death, hashirama was the one tobirama learned from, by his almost suicide to protect tobirama, as the strongest in his clan. The difference is while hashirama was doing it just for his brother and his friend, tobirama imprinted that into his mind and did that for everyone. He made a brothers love into a worldwide legacy, a tradition.

Tobirama didnt just create the chuunin exams, he was the standards based on which they test shinobis in the exams. Intelligence, planning, general smart fighting and info gathering skills, time based choices, bravery and once again, the will to sacrifice yourself. Shikamaru is the only one who passed that time because he acted exactly like Tobirama would in all the exams. The chuunin exams is to sort out who is the most like him.

He didnt just create the Anbu who are special assasins and spies who has no name. He IS the special assassin and spy. Because since childhood he was THAT assassin and that spy, a deadly shadow behind a leader.

He didnt just create the Police Force. He IS the one with all the qualities to be the Police : strictness, caution, principles, law abiding, fraternity and loyalty.

bonus not to mention he is not the one who built the physical village. hashirama is. hashirama was the one with visual thinking and works in the present. he knew what the village is gonna look like and where to build it since he was a kid. hashirama built the physical village like the pillar tree he is, he takes care of it's SPACE, makes sure it exist for people to reside in. tobirama embodies the IDEA and standards of the village and takes care of it's TIME, makes sure it lasts for the next generation.

[molsno]

hii so im kind of confused about the general inner workings of transmisogyny as an extension of transphobia and was hoping you could clarify. basically, transphobes & terfs in particular say that trans women are men, however they treat trans women differently than men, dehumanizing them on the basis of their gender. i always interpreted this as a form of gender discrimination that aims to define trans women as a lower or subhuman class, a third gender of “not quite men but undeserving of the title of woman”. does this conflict with the concept of bioessentialism, i.e. that trans women are fundamentally men? i see people say that “transphobes see trans women as men” but from experience that’s not quite true. men receive privilege and rewards for being men that trans women don’t. sorry if this is incoherent im just trying to get a better understanding of it

your understanding is pretty good to be honest. trans women are a separate gender class - an underclass to be specific - and transmisogynists are aware of this, even if they claim to see us as men. does this conflict with bioessentialism? not necessarily, but in some ways it does.

the thing is, though, logical consistency doesn't particularly matter to bigots. that's why basically all of the laws designed to oppress trans women, despite all of the fearmongering about how some technicality in how they're worded will result in them targeting cis women and other tme people, are ultimately only going to be enforced to the fullest extent against trans women. for example, tme people would rightfully be furious if a teenage cis girl was subjected to a genital examination due to the suspicion that she's trans and playing in a high school girls' sport. this would unambiguously be sexual assault, after all. but ultimately, she would be allowed to continue playing (not that she'd likely want to after something so traumatizing, but I digress), and she would probably (not certainly though) have some kind of recourse available to her due to the backlash this incident would cause. if this happened to a teenage trans girl, though, would anyone care? would there be outrage about this? she would have gone through the exact same kind of sexual assault, but the law in that scenario would be functioning exactly as intended. no form of recourse would be available to her. sure, you could make the case that a cis girl might not be able to sue the school district due to financial or other barriers, but a trans girl would have no ground to stand on, legally speaking; she would have broken the law, no matter how unjust and discriminatory the law is.

so violence against trans women broadly isn't recognized as violence against women because we aren't viewed as women. but we're not viewed as men, either. for another example, let's work through the lens of sexual assault again. if a tme person of any gender accuses a trans woman of sexual assault, there is little to no doubt that she will be viewed as guilty automatically, both by other tme people and by the law (the trans panic defense is still legally admissible in many places). in the best case, this will lead to her ostracization and isolation, putting her at higher risk for instability and suicide. in the worst case, this will lead to her imprisonment or death - REGARDLESS of if the accusation is actually true or not. the justification for this is that trans women are secretly perverted men who are trying to prey on innocent cishet people, but the basic idea underlying that premise isn't even something tme people truly believe! if they actually viewed trans women as men, then her guilt wouldn't be quite so certain. men can commit sexual assault every day and face no consequences for it, even when brought to trial with clear and damning evidence, because patriarchy ensures that men won't be held accountable for their actions. of course, this isn't always the case, marginalized men often do face intense scrutiny, many times involving violence. but even adjusting this analysis to account for additional factors such as racism, trans women still receive absolutely none of the same solidarity, leniency, or respect that men of the same demographics as them do.

fundamentally, trans women aren't treated like women or men in society. we're treated as a disposable and undesirable underclass of women that everyone else is free to abuse without consequence. any claims by transmisogynists about what gender they see us as is posturing. we are treated in unique ways as a result of our status as transfeminine. that's exactly what we mean when we talk about how transmisogyny is a unique form of oppression. bioessentialism certainly plays a part, but its contradictions are so obvious that it can only be understood as one piece of a much larger puzzle.

[hismercytomyjustice]

I will never financially recover from 600 Strike…

I just…

God it’s so fucking good… T^T

Of course the “NEXT TO MY WIFE” part, but Odysseus showing Poseidon what happens when you finally get exactly what you want…

Look what you’ve turned me into

Look what we’ve become

*incoherent screeching*

The lyrics are just SO GOOD. Like, I am awe of how Jay manages to one up himself over and over again. This song is maybe the most pivotal one as far as Odysseus’s character arc is concerned and he fucking CRUSHED IT.

I AM ADDING A CUT BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OKAY?! ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

UGH. I will never get enough of this musical, I s2g. Jay does such an amazing job of portraying Odysseus’s emotions and mental state throughout. By the time we get to 600 Strike, it’s fucking heartbreaking. Odysseus has tried SO HARD for SO LONG to be a good person. He never wanted any of this! He never wanted to be ruthless! But over and over and over again he is just doomed by the gods narrative.

UUUGH. It makes No Longer You (probs my fave song of the musical) EVEN BETTER because yeah, “I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you.”

The gods have forced Odysseus time and time again to be ruthless. He has fought for twenty years to retain some semblance of his innate desire for mercy only to watch it ripped away from him, piece by devastating piece.

I utterly adore the way we see him broken down until the ONLY thing he has left for any chance at happiness or normalcy is making it home to his wife and son.

He starts out this whole journey with the goal of getting himself AND his crew home only to watch them die in increasingly horrific ways because of the impossible situations they keep getting forced into.

I feel like Oddyseus’s first major breakdown happens in The Underworld. That’s where it finally all starts to be too fucking much. Where he hits his limit. Just the “All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes. I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died.”

And then the utterly gut wrenching scene with his mom. ( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)

I feel like up to this point, yeah he’s concerned about what’s going on back at home, but this is the first time he’s straight up confronted with the fact things are changing there and there’s NOTHING he can do about it. His absolute worst fear has come true. He lost someone he loved forever because he couldn’t make it home.

How did she die? Odysseus doesn’t know. She could have died peacefully of old age or been slaughtered. Either way he wasn’t there to comfort her or protect her. She died not knowing if he would ever made it home. Even in death, she’s stuck forever wondering what happened to him and wishing she could see him again.

HE IS RIGHT THERE and she will never know because he was too late.

Like logically he knows time is passing in Ithaca too, but up to this point I feel like Ithaca is more of a concept to him than a reality. His last memories of his home are of his wife and infant son from over a decade ago. Obviously they’ve aged too, but he hasn’t seen the effects of the passage of time on them. He doesn’t know what’s become of them or his country without its king.

It makes so much sense that this is when he finally starts to consider ruthlessness over mercy. Especially after Tiresias implies he will never make it home. Like obvs we know he will and that Tiresias just means he won’t be the same person when he does, but Odysseus doesn’t know that.

Regardless, Tiresias is right. The only way Odysseus will ever make it home is to cut away at everything that makes him who he is. His morality, his desire for mercy, his loyalty to his crew, his friends...

His friends who trust him, only for him to keep leading them to horrific deaths time and time again by clinging to his desire for mercy.

God, and then there’s Mutiny. This whole time Eurylochus has been begging Odysseus to focus on the needs of the few instead of the many, to “cut their losses.” And now Odysseus finally does by sacrificing six men and Eurylochus cannot fucking believe it, even after trying to convince him to do this EXACT same thing back in Puppeteer.

I think Eurylochus ultimately wants Odysseus to keep leading them, even when he doesn’t agree with his decisions, because he doesn’t trust himself to make to put the lives of everyone else first. He relies so much on Odysseus as his moral compass and now that compass has been shattered into a million pieces.

This is not his captain. This IS NOT his friend. This is also the moment Eurylochus realizes Odysseus intends to get home by any means necessary and that fucking terrifies him.

He could always count on Odysseus to keep the safety of the crew first and foremost, to be their pillar of strength in the face of adversity, but now? Now he can’t.

Besides, he’s finally convinced himself that they’ll never make it home, so why should they keep fighting? Why not just try and live out the rest of their lives in peace? Why invite more suffering and pain into their lives?

Then comes Thunder Bringer, where Eurylochus’s biggest fear is realized. Odysseus openly admits he will do whatever it takes to make it home to his wife and son.

At this point, Odysseus is desperately trying to justify all of the horrors and loss they’ve been through. Hundreds of men who trusted him have died because of him. He believes he’s led them astray over and over again.

But if he doesn’t make it home, what was the point of all of this? Does he give up now for the sake of his remaining crew, or does he honor the sacrifice of those they’ve lost by finally making it home? Every single one of them has died in their attempts to get home. How can he sleep at night if he gives up on getting there now? It would mean they all died for absolutely nothing.

And like, it’s a fucked up decision but I think it’s fair to say Odysseus is running on pure PTSD and vibes at this point. He is literally staring ZEUS in the face. Zeus who pretty much made him kill a defenseless child “for the greater good.” Zeus who is asking him to make another impossible choice.

His remaining crew has already admitted they’ve given up on getting home, but Odysseus hasn’t. If no one makes it back, how will the family and friends they’ve left behind ever find closure? They’ll spend the rest of their days living and dead waiting for them to come home like his mother has. They’ll descend into the underworld never knowing what happened to them and hoping against hope that they’ll still see them again.

Hope is such a powerful thing, but it can also be devastating. Isn’t it kinder to let them know what happened than to let them die, trapped warring with grief and hope forever? Because not knowing, while it can give them hope, it’s a false hope at this point. It’s not real.

Isn’t it crueler to leave them scanning the horizon for the rest of their lives, looking for ships that will never come? Isn’t it crueler to force thousands upon thousands of voices to join his mother’s in the underworld?

Isn’t it kinder to give them closure? To let them finally be able to fully grieve?

The least he can do is tell their loved ones what happened to them, isn’t it?

And now, twenty years later, he’s finally within sight of Ithaca. Now he can justify all of his decisions, all of the pain, all of the heartache. He’s can do the one good thing left to him after all these years.

So of course that’s when Poseidon strikes in a final act of devastating cruelty. All because Odysseus blinded rather than outright killed his son. His son who planned to kill and eat him and every single one of his 600 crew members.

It’s simultaneously so cathartic and heartbreaking when Odysseus first brings the trident down on Poseidon. Especially after pleading with him one last time to stop this never ending cycle of violence and pain.

But Poseidon refuses to stop. He’s more concerned about his pride and his reputation than in admitting he’s taken things too far. This so-called god has the nerve to have killed almost every man in his crew and then tell Odysseus he hasn’t suffered enough. He’s already paid for his actions with the blood of hundreds of men. What debt could he possibly have left to pay?

Tbh I would not have blamed Odysseus for torturing Poseidon for the rest of his days. And, if he chose ruthlessness over mercy, that’s what he would have done. Poseidon would’ve gotten exactly what he wanted. Lol, just not like this.

But no. Even in the midst of all of this, of getting to hear this murderer, this god cry out and beg for the mercy he denied him so many times, Odysseus stops. Poseidon finally knows what it’s like to feel helpless and to feel unending pain.

Surprised Pikachu face! He’s not a fan!

Odysseus has pled with the gods to be merciful for over twenty years now. Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, Calypso, Circe… He’s begged them time and time again to see there are other ways than ruthlessness. He managed to get through to Circe, since she alone viscerally understood the pain and loss he’d been through. And now all the rest of them finally understand too.

Athena goes to Zeus on his behalf to convince him and a whole host of other gods to give Odysseus another chance. Calypso lets him leave her island. Zeus realizes the folly of his own pride when he nearly kills his own daughter. Poseidon agrees to call off the storm.

It’s such a fascinating story and I utterly adore Jay’s interpretation of it. Mercy is what ultimately gets Odysseus home, even if he had to be ruthless to get it.

AND AND AND all the callbacks in the songs, the bastardization of moments of joy. The reclamation of moments of horror!!! T^T

JAY WHEN I CATCH YOU.

[otter-pup]

Once your newest clutch is laid and your womb is empty of any eggs, the several tentacles inside your cunt - with noticeable reluctance - pull out and hover to the side. The larger tentacle soon takes their place and he slides in with ease. But the bumps stretch your cunt some more, and it becomes apparent that their size from the outside is a little misleading.

The tentacle is slow with the first egg. Despite how much you'll whine, it'll slowly push the first egg in. Once the egg reaches your cervix, it'll carefully push through, but it'll still cause a bit of burning pain. Smaller tentacles will react immediately to any sign of discomfort, squeezing in and pumping copious amounts of the usual liquid into you, causing some if it to leak out of your cunt.

Once the first egg is inside you, it's obvious why I wanted to ask if you felt comfortable taking this tentacles eggs. A single egg has you looking like you're due with twins. The tentacle seems to halt a moment, waiting to see if you were anymore discomfort. But upon hearing your whines and incoherent begs for more, he continues pumping the large eggs into you.

Some tentacles take to rubbing or gently squeezing your chest to distract you from any pain, even poking your nipples as well. Anything that can distract you from any pain of taking eggs these large, the tentacles exploit to the fullest.

The tentacles down your throat are continuously pumping liquid down your throat, but it's mostly to dull any pain the large eggs might have. Seeing as they aren't exactly the smartest of creatures, it's more than likely they didn't realize pumping more down your throat would lead to you practically becoming consumed by the want to be the best eggslut.

The thoughts practically take over you, with how insistent they are. You're going to be the biggest you've ever been since becoming an incubator but you can still get bigger. You need to take all of these eggs, no matter how many or how big they are. You need to be the perfect incubator for me and the tentacles.

The large tentacle has only pumped about six eggs into you, but your belly is already as large as your ever first clutch. But it's obvious that the tentacle isn't even close to be done with laying his eggs. With how there are tentacles resting on your belly; ready to begin coating your belly in the liquid to let your skin stretch. With how there are smaller tentacles alongside the other in your; pumping the liquid that allows your womb to grow larger with the eggs.

But considering you barely ever have a coherent thought anymore, you're probably just anticipating how many eggs you'll be able to fit inside your womb this time. Isn't that right, my adorable eggslut?

🐺

it feels so wrong, being empty for the first time since this all started, but I know it’ll be worth it when the bigger tentacle slides into my cunt, each bump stretching my cunt, and my brain is coherent enough to realize the eggs are bigger than I thought.

still, i take the first egg eagerly, trying to clench around it and get it to lay it in me faster—but it still burns when its pushed through my cervix, making me whine, making the other tentacles rush to pump me full of stretching liquid. it’s so big, and my belly is swollen so large just from that first one—not big enough, no, smaller than any clutch I’d taken, but still so big for one egg.

i beg for more anyways, regardless of the unreasonable size of a singular egg, regardless of how big I’ll be by the end. i need it, and the tentacle obliges. the stretching liquid being pumped into me eases the pain a little, as does the feeling of each egg bumping against my g spot as it’s pushed through the tentacle towards my cervix. the tentacles wrapping around and playing with my chest help, too.

i get dizzier with want the longer the tentacles in my mouth keep pumping their aphrodisiac liquid down my throat, hyper aware of how small my belly still is, even as another egg gets added to my womb. it’s not big enough. i need to be bigger. i need to take every one of this tentacles eggs. i need to be as big with eggs as I can.

i know it’s not done: i can still see the shape of eggs inside it, the bit of it I’m able to see over my steadily swelling belly. i can still feel the tentacles on my belly dripping the tiniest amount of stretching liquid onto my skin, ready to produce more at a moments notice. i can still feel the same liquid being pumped into my womb faster than it can keep in and leaking out between my legs.

i don’t know an exact count of how many ill be able to fit, just that I’ll fit as many as this tentacle gives me. ill break my record for biggest belly, even if it’s not my biggest clutch by number. i have to. i need it. im just a dumb eggslut for these tentacles and i need to take the biggest eggs I can from them.

[thedrotter]

Re:Kinder Fun Facts of the day☺️!!! Have you ever wondered who talks the most from the main cast in Re:Kinder?? Well, I did😊. Today I'll be answering this question with some graphs and as a bonus telling you what words each character uses the most! I will warn you, this will be a bit long and I don't know how to be less verbose so, yeah!!!

First, I've made some basic rules as to what I counted regarding how much the characters speak. Not all lines really count as speaking, after all.

Any of the incoherent screaming lines don't count. There's a lot of screaming since the characters die a lot (as expected for a horror RPG game), but I don't really count that as speaking unless they're saying proper words. In that same vein, I didn't really count any of the panting or sniffing and such that are conveyed through words. Again, I don't really see that as a character actively speaking their thoughts!

If I cannot tell who a line belongs to, I will not give it to anyone. This happens for certain lines, so I felt this rule was important.

I won't be counting repetitions of the same line if it's on a variation of the same scene. This may sound a bit strange, but when a character dies, the game goes on to the same next scene it would regardless (unless the scene that follows it is an ending), with variations and new lines here and there to account for the dead character, but a lot will be reused and placed in the exact same beats it normally would have been in originally. So, this rule is here for that. Oh, and also the scenes with bits of Yuuichi's backstory that appear in Shunsuke's head won't be counted twice, because some appear twice line by line.

Of course, the "..." lines won't count. I am so sorry Aya!!!!😞

Now that the ground rules have been set, there's just one thing I want to mention. Though I will count all the total lines for Takumi and Yuuichi like any other character, I just want to mention that first I will have two separate counts for them! Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart respectively.

Takumiel is separate because I was curious about how much Takumi spoke as an archangel compared to when he was alive. Yuuichi's Heart is because he speaks so much he feels notable enough to be given his own division, even if he and Yuuichi at the end of the day are one person

(I count the silly mind telepathy where Shunsuke is being directly spoken to [and being told things normal Yuu would avoid saying at that point] and the comical theater as Yuuichi's Heart. I clarify in case one assumes he only starts being counted the moment he's directly labelled as Yuuichi's Heart. Any line that can't be distinguished between Yuuichi's Heart and Yuuichi will be given to Yuuichi by default.)

With nothing else to be clarified let's get to the numbers!!!😊😊

First, the line counts with Takumiel and Yuuichi's Heart counted individually!! Here are the rankings:

Shunsuke (With a lead of 535 lines over second place!!)

Yuuichi

Rei

Yuuichi's Heart

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

You may be thinking— woah, does Shunsuke really speak that much?! You could say that, for a good chunk of those lines are from how he describes interactable points around the map and his inner thoughts, so they aren't all exactly said out loud. The benefit of being the protagonist, I suppose ww

Funny enough, Yuuichi's Heart has almost as many lines as Yuuichi does for not having that much time in the game, being on the higher end between the characters that don't get the benefit of being a protagonist (lol)!

Admittedly I had expected for Rei and Hiroto to have a more similar amount of lines given their nearly equal amount of presence, but for what it is Rei surpassed Hiroto by 51 lines! I also had expected for Takumiel to speak a little bit more than Takumi but turns out the opposite is true.

While the lack of lines of Takumi and Takumiel are to be expected due to their short time on the game, what stands out is Aya not even reaching triple digits between her other peers who are in there for most of the game. This is because a good chunk of Aya's lines in game are silence!^^" And thus weren't counted. If ellipses were a word, she surely would have reached triple digits, but unfortunately they're not.

Now the line count with combined sums of Takumi | Takumiel and Yuuichi | Yuuichi's Heart!!!

In here, the ranking isn't affected, with Yuuichi remaining second place and Takumi being last place. But the disparity of everyone's numbers compared to Takumi's feels a bit more clear to see when Takumiel isn't individually counted.

With Yuuichi's line counts combined, Shunsuke remains 318 lines ahead of him, but it also means Yuuichi has a 59% the amount of Shunsuke's lines; and impressive feat for someone who doesn't get the benefit of being the point of view for everything you press... Although he does also have an upper hand over everyone by essentially being the plot of this game ww

But maybe line counts do not suffice to tell how much a character speaks. Yes, Shunsuke has a bunch of lines from everything he interacts with, but is it really reliable to say he speaks all that much in all those lines? A good chunk of those could easily have 3 words each! So with this in mind, let's do a word count.

Even in a word count, Shunsuke has the lead, having a lead of 2,247 words over second place. But we'll see about that when we combine Yuuichi's numbers. Anyway, here's the ranking!

Shunsuke

Yuuichi's Heart

Yuuichi

Rei

Hiroto

Ryou

Sayaka

Aya

Takumi

Takumiel

This time, Yuuichi's Heart is the one at second place!!! It's pretty funny that he speaks more than his physical counterpart ww. I genuinely didnt think he'd out yap himself that way when I chose to count for him individually 😭!!! He has a lead of 63 words over himself, but a lead nonetheless.

In here, Rei and Hiroto are more even than in the line counts, with the difference seeming more minimal when put into words. But it also showcases that despite Rei having more lines than Yuuichi's Heart in the line count, those only get to have a bit over half of the amount of words he talks (To be fair he does get to infodump a lot in his section of the game).

And here's the combined word count!!! Suddenly Shunsuke's lead is only by a mere 55 words! So Yuuichi speaks about as much as he does with 318 less lines.

I must admit that I genuinely did not expect it to be that close. When I chose to count the lines for when you interact with things for Shunsuke, I thought he was granted to speak an absurd amount more than anyone else. But turns out that Yuuichi speaks about the same amount out loud when most of Shunsuke's are his own thoughts ww. But it does make sense! He is still the plot of this game.

So, after all those charts, here's the average/middle point of lines and words for characters to have, because why not, it's fun.

Average Line Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 197 lines

Average Line Count (When combined): 247 lines

Average Word Count (YH and Takumiel counted individually): 1,333 words

Average Word Count (When combined): 1,666 words

So there it is. That's how much the characters in Re:Kinder speak!

But wait!!! I am not done. I will share with you an additional fun fact... Did you ever want to know what word each of these characters said the most?! This one will be quicker, I do promise.

When it came to counting these words I did not count stop words, that being common words that are used all the time by everyone in English. "I, you, me, the, to, a, my, your, yes, no"... Words like that! Otherwise everyone would have one of those as their most said word and it'd be rather boring to look at. With that said, here are the words these characters say the most!

Shunsuke: Yuuichi - said 40 times! (this genuinely confused me so much im sorry he uses interjections so much I had expected it to be something like "huh" or "um" but no i dont know how this passed by me as i was rounding up all the lines he says or proofreading or writing all of those lines WHAT?!?! its been two days and it still takes me out)

Ryou: Shunsuke - Said 14 times

Sayaka: Murderer - Said 7 times (All in one sentence!)

Takumi | Takumiel (counted in one for how little he speaks.): Takumiel - Said 3 times (That name is so important, he said it thrice.)

Aya: Sorry - Said 5 times

Rei: Hell, gonna, look, Yuuchi - said 8 times (Most of the repeated words she says are stop words for she doesn't tend to speak about the same things repeatedly.)

Hiroto: Shunsuke - Said 17 times

Yuuichi (separate from YH): Problem - Said 17 times

Yuuichi's Heart: Mama - Said 24 times

Yuuichi (Overall): Mama - Said 31 times

So that is finally it. That is the fun fact of today.😊😊 Use this to woe your friends at parties!!!

I am aware Mami speaks about enough to be counted in, but this is pretty time consuming to do and I'm not sure anyone is invested on her enough to count her in. But if there's enough curiosity regarding that, I'll try counting her in. But for now this suffices.☺️ Thanks for reading!

[skinnamon39]

incoherent rambling about The Boy and the Heron below, beware of spoilers and content warnings for discussion of self-harm and (briefly) death

I watched it subbed and I've only seen it once so if I misremember some things or my account seems different from what you watched then oops (I don't know what they changed, if anything, in the dub). anyways

Mahito might be one of the most compelling protagonists from a film I've seen in a long time. maybe not the most fun or most interesting per say, but I don't remember the last time I was so completely absorbed in a character's growth. just instantly hooked.

I think it's definitely a "less is more" kind of case for him, where what he doesn't do matters just as much or more as what he does. like in particular, I was super intrigued by how throughout the entire house tour sequence, he doesn't say a word. his dad introduces Natsuko to him, Natsuko shows him the house, he meets the maids, and he doesn't say anything; we still get shots of him looking at and reacting to stuff, he takes off his hat and bows to people when appropriate, he follows any directions given to him, and it all really strongly gave me the impression that he isn't invested in what's happening.

and of course he isn't! we are reminded almost as soon as he's shown to his room that he's still reeling over the death of his mom. actually, it might be accurate to say he's resentful of his circumstances. he kind of has to go along with it since he's, y'know, a kid, but he's obvs majorly uncomfortable with feeling Natsuko's pregnant belly, and for a good chunk of the first act, almost everything he says to people are bare-minimum polite autopilot responses.

but uhhh I gotta talk about the self-harm scene, I have been studying it under a microscope ever since I saw it. yeah it's pretty brief but man I was NOT expecting that much blood.

anyways, we're not told exactly why Mahito did it, but I don't think we really need to when the general gist suffices. what does he mean when he says later on it was fueled by his "malice"? was it a way to get out of the school he obviously didn't like, and thus defiance of his father? was he just trying to avoid his antagonistic classmates? was he trying to get them in trouble for "injuring" him? who knows? it could be any of them. it could be all of them at once. the nature of his lie about his injury muddles things too. regardless, the outcome is the same: he's not going to school for now.

this is getting a lot longer than I thought it would and I'm still not done (I wanted to talk about things besides Mahito too! I swear!) but I'll stop here for now. god this movie was so good

[peonycats]

(might become a block of text as i write sorry) do you have any thoughts on how bengal's personification(s)...work ? i am bengali but it's always confused me how to go about it. was there only one bengal before the partition ? would west bengal and bangladesh have a personification only after it ? i feel weird making bengal (if there was one before what we have currently, which... there's gotta be right ??) "into" west bengal or bangladesh cuz then i feel as though there's a very weird and at least somewhat offensive connotation on which one's "more/truly bengali" to put it lightly, ya know ?? but i can't see either of them really being born in the contemporary era cuz bengal's history is so ancient and vast ?? it confuses me sm i know i should probably just ask other bengalis but the ones ik irl don't really have strong views on this and i don't know any bangladeshis i can realistically ask this to 😭😭😭 im sorry if this has become an incoherent block of text

HEAVY DISCLAIMER THAT I AM NOT BENGALI OR SOUTH ASIAN!!

Tbh, don't worry about sending in a big block of text, I think this is an scenario/question worth considering. Basically, there are a number of ways you can go about personifying Bengal/Bengali nations, and each of them have their own issue, each of which have their own pros and cons, if my understanding is correct-

There was one original Bengal personification that was Hindu, but around the time that Islam reached Bengal and Bengalis began to convert, another Bengal personification arose to specifically represent Muslim Bengalis.

There was one original Bengal personification that began as Hindu and eventually converted to Islam, going on to become the personification of Bangladesh. No other separate personification arose to represent West Bengal/Bengali Hindus because this original personification still represents them.

There was one original Bengal personification that began as Hindu and eventually converted to Islam, going on to become the personification of Bangladesh. Meanwhile, another Bengal personification later arose to represent West Bengal/Bengali Hindus around the time of British imperialism and/or the Partition.

APPROACH 1

Pros + Reflects the current cultural division between Indian Bengalis and Bangladeshis

Cons - Lowkey justifies the Partition of the subcontinent by implying there were already personifications split on religious lines predating British colonialism

APPROACH 2

Pros + Reaffirms the artificiality of the Partition by there only being one Bengal personification representing all Bengalis regardless of religion

Cons - Does not accurately reflect the irl cultural divide between Indian Bengalis and Bangladeshis and the difference in how they view themselves

APPROACH 3

Pros + Reaffirms the artificiality of the Partition by there only being one original Bengal personification representing all Bengalis regardless of religion

Cons - By making the personification of West Bengal so comparatively young, this both inaccurately reflects the age of the Hindu Bengali community vs the Muslim Bengali community, as well as have subtle implications about which community is more "authentic and legitimate" based on this difference in age

Now, choosing one of these approaches will definitely depend a lot on what exactly you're personifying and the historical-geopolitical context at hand, as well as what messages you're not afraid to convey. For example, I personify Afghanistan as representing both Pashtuns in Afghanistan and Pakistan from talking to actual Pashtuns and how they view the border between them, as well as communicating the artificiality of the border. I think it's useful to recognize that the entire process of personifying a nation is basically mapping things like, a nation's ethnogenesis, rise to power, golden age, and eventual decline and destruction to human life events, is always imperfect and sometimes, the allegory falls apart; the Partition is probably one of the best examples of this.

As for how I would go about personifying Bengal? I would probably for a variation of Approach 1, where instead of there being multiple Bengali personifications split on the basis of religion, there would be multiple Bengali personifications split on the basis of regional and cultural differences. (Correct me if I'm wrong, as I am an outsider to this, but there are sub-groups and regional differences in language and culture even within Bengal, right?) Because of there being multiple Bengali personifications, some of them would be Muslim, some of them would be Hindu, and by the time of Partition, the personifications representing the lands of modern day Bangladesh and/or Muslim Bengali communities would move to join/represent the nation of Bangladesh while those representing Hindu Bengali communities would join India. This approach still has its issues, and may still validate/justify the Partition in the eyes of some people, but I go for it because it fulfill my most important conditions-

Doesn't make any of the Bengal personifications outrageously young

The Bengal personifications are personified based on regional and cultural divides that predate colonialism and imperialism

Them having to consciously choose sides post-independence and having to separate from one another accurately reflects the artificiality of the Partition and how it split up communities.

That's just my take, ofc, as a non Bengali and as someone who hasn't done as much research into the region as I'd like to, feel free to disagree and choose whatever approach feels most accurate according to you and your research!!