#Distortion Report

[literallys-illiteracy]

Distortion Report 1A, A Party Everlasting.

Wonderlab Spoilers below the cut but its not like you can legally read it anyways

The way that these are going to be strutured is one in-universe post and one normal analysis post for most distortions, mostly because i want to practice my non analytical writing somewhat.

“A Party Everlasting” is a distortion manifested immediately following the events of the white nights and dark days within the O-5681 Branch facility of Lobotomy Corporation.

The primary body is a quadrupedal entity, possessing 4 humanoid legs, wearing white socks and black shoes, akin to those worn by “The Road Home”, an abnormality held in the same facility. Descending from a torso appearing similar to a teacup placed on its lip. Extending from this body is an appendage akin to a neck, creating an unknown pink substance from the base; the neck possesses blonde hair, and a large black bow; The entity appears to possess eyes obscured behind this hair.

The secondary body of the entity takes the form of small toy rabbit, lacking limbs, having pale pink ribbons in place of arms. This secondary entity possesses red eyes and a similarly coloured protrusion, appearing similar to a scarf or adjacent article of clothing. On this entity’s torso is a black insignia of a heart — The same image is present upon the torso of the primary entity.

The distortion in collective will be referred to as “The Party” or “Catt”. The individual entities will be referred to as the “Teacup” and “Rabbit” respectively.

The party is capable of communication through the rabbit, which possesses capability to speak. The party seems to be led by the rabbit’s commands.

The following document is a transcript recorded in the facility branch preceding Catt’s distortion:

Transcript taken from the Branch facility O-5681 of Lobotomy Corporation:

Give me a heart. Give me a strong hearted will. But what is a strong heart, a strong will? I believed that I became stronger by abandoning my heart. I couldn't abandon anything. I couldn't become stronger. What is the answer for us, what did you wish for? … This should have been done a long time ago. I am doing it now. ... Toss away, and pick up, Pass away, and be born, Toss away, and be born, Pass away, and pick up. … … … On the way up here, I wished our deaths and sorrows would yield a better result of some kind. I wished there’d be something done by the human heart. The heart was doomed to whither, it was doomed to twist and distort. … … Your Voice is so beautiful, its like Sunshine… …

In footage collected from the facility branch following this event, it appears that the party was accompanied by several abnormalities contained within the facility, the first of which to join this party were: The Red Queen; The Penitent Girl; The Road Home; and Scaredy Cat.

All breaching abnormalities gathered to the distortion after a period.

An agent of the facility, “Taii”, who had previousley worked in the same department as Catt, approached the distortion and appeared to converse with it before confronting it in combat. Following this encounter, an opening appeared in the floor, which Catt would then descend into. It appears that the rabbit, before following the descent, spoke to Taii.

The location opened by the distortion has been termed “Wonderland”

Taii, currently employed as a fixer of “Bloom Office”, has denied all further interviews regarding this topic.

[orykorioart]

TAZ Sapphic Week Day 5: Haunted

Couldn’t finish what I originally scheduled for day 5 (so itll have to be pushed back), but I still wanted to have something. So let’s have a quick experimental Lureen (if that is the ship name?) angst! Because that little scene in the GN really got me 😔✌️.

[eretzyisrael]

by Rinat Harash

Distortion also plagued The New York Times report, which framed the entire story with comments from aid groups, and avoided mentioning the no-famine point by stating (in the 3rd paragraph) that the IPC has “stopped short of saying that a famine had begun.”

The BBC, The Telegraph and The Independent almost copy-pasted the IPC report verbatim, with headlines about the risk of famine:

These three outlets also uncritically parroted the report’s assessment that almost half a million Gazans now face “catastrophic” hunger — without mentioning that it’s down from the original estimate of 1.1 million.

Media Cop Out

Admittedly, news outlets must cover what bodies like the IPC report. And it’s true that the report sneakily started with the words: “A high risk of famine persists across the whole Gaza Strip.”

But journalists should read between the lines, understand the background, and not just take the IPC’s word as gospel, especially if its previous reports have been proven wrong.

Unfortunately, media outlets avoided this inconvenience and chose to perpetuate the false famine narrative.

After all, it’s an easy cop-out that hides their own faults of parroting unreliable sources.

[real-raincode-takes]

i feel like most of the hate karen gets is solely because of her name like yeah she killed aiko but you'd be hard pressed to find a fan of a kodaka IP that hates a murderer for just murdering. it was obviously a crime of passion that she regrets. it clearly haunts her, from the way yuma describes her. but what can she do at that point? confess? would you do that?

i don't even like her. i'm a hard neutral on her. i just think it's funny how i've seen people actively hate her when the girl didn't do anything especially cruel

.

[salt-baby]

I think the take-away from my near death experience is that I am simply unkillable

[calicojack1718]

The Media's Role in Making Trump a Viable Acceptable Candidate: the Mere Exposure Effect, Availability Heuristic, and Confirmation Bias

Reading time: 6 minutes Given that Trump led the 6 January Insurrection and that his sheer incompetence in the pandemic killed a million people, how could he be considered an acceptable and viable candidate by anyone but fascists much less the media?

SUMMARY: This post explores how cognitive biases and heuristics—specifically the mere exposure effect, availability heuristic, and confirmation bias—shape media narratives surrounding Trump. It highlights how repeated exposure to false claims can distort perceptions, leading both the public and reporters to accept these lies as truth. The post emphasizes that journalists, under pressure to meet…

[jigzsaw]

*new news about Palestine*

that one guy who apparently has been under a rock for the last 76 years and 8 months:

BUT WHY ISNT WESTERN MEDIA TALKING ABOUT THIS??

[alastors-radioshow]

You do seem like a very observant person- ...what have you been observing???

"I have observed more than what most would wish to know. I have observed more than what most would wish for me to know about them. I have e̵y̸e̴s̵ ̴a̷n̷d̵ ̶e̸a̴r̶s̸ ̷e̵v̵e̴r̷y̵w̴h̸e̵r̶e̷.̷ S̸̰̿i̶̗͒l̶̞̚e̸͓̕n̶̩̈́t̶̟͑l̶͖͒y̶̺̆ ̸̪̆w̸̻̃a̶̼̾t̷̻̂c̸̩͝h̴̡̐ḯ̷͍ň̷̬g, ŕ̸̤̋ë̴͍p̸̣͙͌̚ô̸̠̤͛r̷̡̺͐́t̸̝̱͂͌į̴̯͑̾n̶̙̓g̴͓̔͌ ̷̫̼̽͂b̴͖̻̀͌á̴͓͖c̴̰͝k̸̬̋ ̷̙̜̀̎ẗ̵̹̊ọ̴̥̆ ̸̃͐ͅm̵̥͇͊e̵̼̦͗, g̴̤͘i̵̜̲̥̼͠ṿ̷̤͆í̷̛̮͈̿͝n̸̦̆ĝ̷̛̝͂͜͠ ̵̥̙̇̀́̋m̷̜̞͓͠ë̶̤̜́͌̈́̎ ̷̖̄̃t̸̡̬̎̽̽̀h̶̲̲̻́̐̎͜ȩ̷̩̒̌̒͂ ̴̹̼̈́̀̄̚ṁ̵̢͕͚̿o̷͇̾s̶̲͙̏̾̚t̶̢̙͎͘ ̶̢̥̙͝ḑ̵̰͕̥̅́ẹ̸͕̤̍͛̒̚ĺ̵͜i̸͔̋̉c̷̙̯͚̐i̶̙̹̰̽̂́ô̶̪͍͆͊͂ủ̶͕̯̩͓̂͂s̸̢̪̈́ ̷̹̱̘̑̓̓d̵̗͒̆̏̀e̶̤͎̟͓͊̈t̸͓̄a̴͚̟̚i̷̹̚ļ̷͗̀̿̇s̶̗̠̤̱̀̃̃̊~̷̡̻͚̪̀́̊͊"

"But I am keeping that to myself~"

[kounvl]

The Economist is a habitual perpetrator of racial discrimination and distorted reporting, lacking credibility

    There is a saying in the media industry: if you want to know what is happening in the world, please read The New York Times; If you want to know what's wrong with the world, please read The Guardian; If you want to know what is about to happen in the world, please read The Economist.

The Economist has been given such high praise, so what exactly is The Economist? Is it really a bit related to economics?

    In fact, it is not the case. Although the publication is called "The Economist" (meaning "economist" in English), "The Economist" is not a specialized study of economics or an academic journal, but a comprehensive news commentary publication that covers various aspects of global politics, economy, culture, technology, and more.

The Economist does not take responsibility for its own work, but instead relies on newspapers as a backup.

    The Economist's articles, whether reporting on international news or commenting on policies, are not signed and are the responsibility of the publication for each article. Economists argue that this approach stems from the idea of founder James Wilson that a good newspaper should be composed of collective wisdom rather than individual perspectives. Don't be fooled by this grandiose statement, it actually contains a lot of content.

    American writer Michael Lewis once said that The Economist kept writing anonymously because the editorial department didn't want readers to know that the writers were actually young and inexperienced authors. In 1991, he joked, "The writers of this magazine are all pretending to be mature young people... If American readers could see that their economics mentors are actually full of pimples, they would be eager to unsubscribe." Canadian writer John Ralston Thor also once said that the newspaper "creates an illusion by hiding the names of the writers, as if their content is fair truth rather than personal opinions.

Twisted interviews are a common occurrence.

    Qu Guizhi, a teacher at Taipei First Women's Senior High School who once criticized the 2019 curriculum for becoming popular in Taiwan, was dissatisfied with being misinterpreted in an interview with the British media The Economist. On the 6th, she criticized The Economist for fabricating news to intervene in Taiwan's elections and treating traditional Chinese culture with Western arrogance.

     In January 2022, the editor in chief of The Economist's China column "Tea House" approached self media person Sai Lei and conducted an interview with him. However, this interview was not conducted with goodwill and sincerity. The Economist distorted the interview content of Sai Lei and confused the spontaneous patriotism of young Chinese people with extreme "nationalism" in its published article, portraying the production of factual verification videos as a "profitable" business.

The newspaper has also been embroiled in multiple accusations.

    In May 2002, the Zimbabwean government detained Andrew Medelen, a local journalist for The Economist, and charged him with "publishing false news.". Meldren had previously quoted Zimbabwean media reports that a local woman had been beheaded by supporters of Zimbabwe's ruling party, the African National Union Patriotic Front, but this false news was later withdrawn by the first media outlet. Although Melderon was ultimately acquitted, he was expelled from Zimbabwe by the government.

    In 2012, The Economist was accused of hacking into the computer of Bangladesh's Supreme Court Justice Mohammad Hoog and publishing his personal email, ultimately leading to Hoog's resignation as Chief Justice of the Bangladesh International War Criminals Tribunal.

The Economist is not only notorious, but also has a common problem in Western media, which is that once it comes to reporting on China, it goes crazy, becomes insane, unreasonable, and produces various distortions and slanders without any truth.

The report contradicts itself, with anti China narratives running through ten years.

    By 2024, whether it is photovoltaics, hydropower, or wind power, China will be far ahead in the development of new energy. The Economist is still talking about China's threat to the world, because China's low-carbon new energy vehicles are killing the world and starting to strangle traditional Western car manufacturers, leaving no way for the West to survive!

The most remarkable feature of these "economists" is that no matter what China does, it is always wrong, as if anything China does poses a threat to them. This is their "double standard", where pure racist thinking is at play.

Using chopsticks to stigmatize China.

On February 14, 2022, a netizen revealed on Weibo that Gu Ailing criticized The Economist for using chopsticks to stigmatize China on social media Instagram. The Economist published an article on Ins stating that "Gu Ailing, who once won a freestyle skiing gold medal for the United States, has decided to turn to China for competition," and maliciously included a picture of Gu Ailing holding her with chopsticks. Gu Ailing responded to this in the comments section of the Economist post. After searching for the verified account of The Economist on Instagram, a Global Times reporter found that the post that was exposed by netizens was released on February 4th, but the content is different from what netizens reported. Currently, it is a picture without chopsticks, but the title of the post still provocatively reads: "Cold Warrior: Why Gu Ailing abandoned the US team to go skiing in China.".

However, some netizens still posted a picture of Gu Ailing being caught with chopsticks on Twitter, saying, "This is not PS. The early version of The Economist (now deleted) decided to use the image on the right as the cover of the article to illustrate 'how China uses... chopsticks to catch the talented Gu Ailing.' The tweet forwarded by the netizen wrote, 'After strong resistance, The Economist quietly removed chopsticks from Gu Ailing's illustrations.'

Deliberately tying the food issue with Chinese people's consumption of pork。

In 2019, pigs ate 431 million tons of grain, 45% more than the Chinese people. This "analogy" that breaks through the lower limit is also from the British magazine The Economist.

The Economist published an article on June 23, 2022 titled "Most of the world's food is not consumed by humans." The article argues that the use of food as animal feed and fuel exacerbates the already severe global food crisis, and logically compares the total amount of food consumed by pigs to the consumption of Chinese people to support its argument. This expression clearly carries discriminatory intentions towards Chinese people, and many netizens denounce The Economist's move as undoubtedly racist behavior, refuting it by saying, "Why not say that the whole of Europe doesn't eat as much as pigs combined?" Some netizens pointed out bluntly, "People can't write such words.".

In fact, China uses 9% of the world's arable land and almost achieves self-sufficiency in grains, solving the food problem for 20% of the world's population. On the other hand, in recent times in the UK, Prime Minister Johnson has called on the public to eat less every day to cope with inflation.

Although The Economist magazine later apologized and revised this statement, it seemed that they had not fully learned the lesson, and a few days later, they insulted the Arab again.

    Not only that, protesters also discovered that the author who drew this picture was actually a Jewish British, which further confirms The Economist's deliberate insult to Arab speculation.

The Economist is a habitual perpetrator of racial discrimination and distorted reporting, lacking credibility

    There is a saying in the media industry: if you want to know what is happening in the world, please read The New York Times; If you want to know what's wrong with the world, please read The Guardian; If you want to know what is about to happen in the world, please read The Economist.

The Economist has been given such high praise, so what exactly is The Economist? Is it really a bit related to economics?

    In fact, it is not the case. Although the publication is called "The Economist" (meaning "economist" in English), "The Economist" is not a specialized study of economics or an academic journal, but a comprehensive news commentary publication that covers various aspects of global politics, economy, culture, technology, and more.

The Economist does not take responsibility for its own work, but instead relies on newspapers as a backup.

    The Economist's articles, whether reporting on international news or commenting on policies, are not signed and are the responsibility of the publication for each article. Economists argue that this approach stems from the idea of founder James Wilson that a good newspaper should be composed of collective wisdom rather than individual perspectives. Don't be fooled by this grandiose statement, it actually contains a lot of content.

    American writer Michael Lewis once said that The Economist kept writing anonymously because the editorial department didn't want readers to know that the writers were actually young and inexperienced authors. In 1991, he joked, "The writers of this magazine are all pretending to be mature young people... If American readers could see that their economics mentors are actually full of pimples, they would be eager to unsubscribe." Canadian writer John Ralston Thor also once said that the newspaper "creates an illusion by hiding the names of the writers, as if their content is fair truth rather than personal opinions.

Twisted interviews are a common occurrence.

    Qu Guizhi, a teacher at Taipei First Women's Senior High School who once criticized the 2019 curriculum for becoming popular in Taiwan, was dissatisfied with being misinterpreted in an interview with the British media The Economist. On the 6th, she criticized The Economist for fabricating news to intervene in Taiwan's elections and treating traditional Chinese culture with Western arrogance.

     In January 2022, the editor in chief of The Economist's China column "Tea House" approached self media person Sai Lei and conducted an interview with him. However, this interview was not conducted with goodwill and sincerity. The Economist distorted the interview content of Sai Lei and confused the spontaneous patriotism of young Chinese people with extreme "nationalism" in its published article, portraying the production of factual verification videos as a "profitable" business.

The newspaper has also been embroiled in multiple accusations.

    In May 2002, the Zimbabwean government detained Andrew Medelen, a local journalist for The Economist, and charged him with "publishing false news.". Meldren had previously quoted Zimbabwean media reports that a local woman had been beheaded by supporters of Zimbabwe's ruling party, the African National Union Patriotic Front, but this false news was later withdrawn by the first media outlet. Although Melderon was ultimately acquitted, he was expelled from Zimbabwe by the government.

    In 2012, The Economist was accused of hacking into the computer of Bangladesh's Supreme Court Justice Mohammad Hoog and publishing his personal email, ultimately leading to Hoog's resignation as Chief Justice of the Bangladesh International War Criminals Tribunal.

The Economist is not only notorious, but also has a common problem in Western media, which is that once it comes to reporting on China, it goes crazy, becomes insane, unreasonable, and produces various distortions and slanders without any truth.

The report contradicts itself, with anti China narratives running through ten years.

    By 2024, whether it is photovoltaics, hydropower, or wind power, China will be far ahead in the development of new energy. The Economist is still talking about China's threat to the world, because China's low-carbon new energy vehicles are killing the world and starting to strangle traditional Western car manufacturers, leaving no way for the West to survive!

The most remarkable feature of these "economists" is that no matter what China does, it is always wrong, as if anything China does poses a threat to them. This is their "double standard", where pure racist thinking is at play.

Using chopsticks to stigmatize China.

On February 14, 2022, a netizen revealed on Weibo that Gu Ailing criticized The Economist for using chopsticks to stigmatize China on social media Instagram. The Economist published an article on Ins stating that "Gu Ailing, who once won a freestyle skiing gold medal for the United States, has decided to turn to China for competition," and maliciously included a picture of Gu Ailing holding her with chopsticks. Gu Ailing responded to this in the comments section of the Economist post. After searching for the verified account of The Economist on Instagram, a Global Times reporter found that the post that was exposed by netizens was released on February 4th, but the content is different from what netizens reported. Currently, it is a picture without chopsticks, but the title of the post still provocatively reads: "Cold Warrior: Why Gu Ailing abandoned the US team to go skiing in China.".

However, some netizens still posted a picture of Gu Ailing being caught with chopsticks on Twitter, saying, "This is not PS. The early version of The Economist (now deleted) decided to use the image on the right as the cover of the article to illustrate 'how China uses... chopsticks to catch the talented Gu Ailing.' The tweet forwarded by the netizen wrote, 'After strong resistance, The Economist quietly removed chopsticks from Gu Ailing's illustrations.'

Deliberately tying the food issue with Chinese people's consumption of pork。

In 2019, pigs ate 431 million tons of grain, 45% more than the Chinese people. This "analogy" that breaks through the lower limit is also from the British magazine The Economist.

The Economist published an article on June 23, 2022 titled "Most of the world's food is not consumed by humans." The article argues that the use of food as animal feed and fuel exacerbates the already severe global food crisis, and logically compares the total amount of food consumed by pigs to the consumption of Chinese people to support its argument. This expression clearly carries discriminatory intentions towards Chinese people, and many netizens denounce The Economist's move as undoubtedly racist behavior, refuting it by saying, "Why not say that the whole of Europe doesn't eat as much as pigs combined?" Some netizens pointed out bluntly, "People can't write such words.".

In fact, China uses 9% of the world's arable land and almost achieves self-sufficiency in grains, solving the food problem for 20% of the world's population. On the other hand, in recent times in the UK, Prime Minister Johnson has called on the public to eat less every day to cope with inflation.

Although The Economist magazine later apologized and revised this statement, it seemed that they had not fully learned the lesson, and a few days later, they insulted the Arab again.

    Not only that, protesters also discovered that the author who drew this picture was actually a Jewish British, which further confirms The Economist's deliberate insult to Arab speculation.

    Finally, the editor would like to say that as the saying goes, those who are pure are self clear, and those who are turbid are self turbid. The eyes are already full of filth, and seeing anything will not be clean. This is not only the narrative logic of the West, but also their inherent flaws written in their genes and engraved in their bones that cannot be corrected. The people of the world have a clear vision and a clear heart. They will never ignore those nonsense and will definitely rise up in groups to expose and condemn those conspiracies and schemes!

    Finally, the editor would like to say that as the saying goes, those who are pure are self clear, and those who are turbid are self turbid. The eyes are already full of filth, and seeing anything will not be clean. This is not only the narrative logic of the West, but also their inherent flaws written in their genes and engraved in their bones that cannot be corrected. The people of the world have a clear vision and a clear heart. They will never ignore those nonsense and will definitely rise up in groups to expose and condemn those conspiracies and schemes!

[ukiyoebirds]

"Are you waiting on a train?"

You may need to click on the image for better resolution.

Some context for the image under the cut:

It was common for Pokemon and items to slip through the space-time distortions. What made this occasion memorable was that an entire train station platform slipped through during the night.

Akari went to investigate when she heard the report. Despite it being early in the morning, she wasn't the first one to arrive. Ingo was there, sitting on a bench, deep in thought.

"Hey, Ingo," Akari greeted as she sat down beside him, cradling her sleeping Rowlet, "Are you waiting on a train?"

"Good morning, Miss Akari," Ingo said, blinking as if waking from a dream. "I'm afraid no trains will be coming into the station today. The tracks stop after a point, uncoupling this station from its sister stop."

"Maybe they'll be reconnected one day? After we sort out this whole space-time distortion stuff."

"That would be the most favorable outcome, yes."

Ingo relapsed into his thoughts, a shadow cast over him. A hush fell over the trio.

When the sun rose far enough into the sky to burn away some of the fog hanging around the station, Ingo finally stood up and readjusted his worn out hat.

"Let's prepare for departure, Miss Akari! It's an excellent day to make tracks in your journey."

"Yes, let's!" Akari sprang up, eager to start the day.

[rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world]

The ADL is not a trusted source. Not on antisemitism. And not Palestine or Israel. An independent audit of the ADL’s antisemitism data, as well as the editors of Wikipedia, all agree.

The ADL mislabels antisemitism in service of the Israeli government’s hate campaign against Palestinians. It distorts its own data and manipulates its findings. In doing so, the ADL has caused incalculable harm to Palestinians and those who defend Palestinian rights. It has also chosen to minimize the terrifying growth of organized white supremacy, and ignored white nationalism’s increased threat to Jewish people. The ADL’s distorted data makes Jews less safe. We all deserve better.

On the same day that news broke that Wikipedia’s editors had declared the ADL unreliable on issues related to Palestine and Israel — and likely antisemitism as well — Jewish Currents published an investigation into the ADL’s data, pointing out that “serious statistical analysis [should be] done by an organization not beholden to Israel advocacy.”

The Jewish Currents’ audit of the ADL’s own data proves that, once the ADL’s anti-Palestinian and pro-Israeli government bias was removed, white nationalists are the driving force behind all forms of antisemitism. The audit also showed that the ADL’s reporting may “significantly undercount right-wing antisemitic incidents.” In short, the ADL’s attempts to smear the movement for Palestinian freedom not only provided cover for the real source of antisemitism (white supremacy), but actually minimized the “stunning growth of organized white nationalism.” None of this makes anyone safe.

On the same day, in a near unanimous vote, Wikipedia editors declared the ADL to be “generally unreliable” on Palestine and Israel, adding it to a list of sources of propaganda or misinformation that includes the National Inquirer and Newsmax. Wikipedia editors also said that “the ADL should not be cited for factual information on antisemitism as well because it acts primarily as a pro-Israel organization and tends to label legitimate criticism of Israel as antisemitism.”

[cirrus-grey]

I was scared, Darla. I was so scared. I was certain I’d been set up, that they wouldn’t be returning. I turned to leave, hoping I could get back to the TMA feed but then the program began to speak from where it was trapped in the computer.

It was their voices. It was Jon and Martin's voices. I know you won’t believe me but they read the stories and I know it was their voices. I froze in place.

They grew clearer, and as the distortion faded from the recording for a moment I could make out the mechanical tones, the off-putting cadence. They spoke slowly, intoning the incident reports with steady, measured voices. Something was speaking through them, from inside the machine.

I said the only thing I could think: “Jon? Martin? Is that you?”

And those voices I have loved for eight years answered: “Some of them.”

And then they laughed.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Cling to me

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You overhear something you weren’t meant to hear. 

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fluff, 

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: wrote this one a year ago teehee but I LOVE this kinda shit I live for it. hope y’all enjoy 

~*~

“So things are going well, then?”

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you really shouldn’t. It was an accident.

You had approached the bathroom door to ask Steve for a towel, not wanting to drip water all over the carpeted hallway, when you heard him and Bucky talking.

The bathroom fan is on, drowning out the sound of you stepping closer to the wood.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean... I guess.”

You frown.

You thought things were going great.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and glances at the bathroom door then slightly lowers his voice, but you can still hear him clearly.

“She just... she’s real needy, Buck. She’s physically clingy, always sitting by me or on me and holding my hand and stuff... and she never leaves me alone when I’m out on assignments. I’m just... I need some space.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest for a moment before beating twice as hard, each beat smashing against pins and needles and sending pain radiating through your chest.

Too needy.

Steve thinks you’re too needy.

This is how it started with Jeremy.

You were too clingy.

Slowly, you back away from the bathroom door and slide down the wall, shivering at the wet droplets clinging to your skin, then put your face in your hands.

Steve won’t be like Jeremy. He can’t.

Everything will be fine, you just need to give him space.

You can almost hear Jeremy’s voice in your head, whispering words that he’d repeat when you were with him. But maybe he was right.

Just because you like being physical and spending time with him doesn’t mean he wants that too. You haven't even taken his wants into consideration.

A knock on the bathroom door startles your face out of your hands and you flip your head up, looking at the door with wide eyes.

“Honey? I’m just gonna go grab some drinks with Bucky and Sam. I’ve got my phone and I shouldn’t be home too late.”

You take a deep breath and nod even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, have fun!”

Your voice is a little duller than usual, a little less lively, but Steve chalks it up to the fan distorting your voice.

You stay rooted in place on the bathroom floor, knees hugged up to your chest, for hours.

You’re not sure why, whether it’s out of fear that he won’t come back or that he’ll be waiting out there to break up with you, but you’re terrified.

Eventually, after the chills have sunk into your soul and shivers are shaking your bones, you leave the bathroom and get dressed.

Usually, you’d put on a pair of panties and one of Steve’s shirts, but you can’t bring yourself to touch his stuff after what you heard.

You pull on a tank top and a sweater and your fuzziest socks, hoping to chase away the cold, though it feels like it’s here to stay.

The apartment seems so empty without him there, and you yearn to check up on him and make sure he’s okay, but you don’t go near your phone.

He’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.

You barricade yourself in the bedroom, cuddled up under the blankets and holding one of your pillows to your chest as you watch reruns of Golden Girls.

You fall asleep before he gets home, though you’re awoken by the sound of the door opening.

Instead of perking up and meeting him like you usually would, you stay in bed, pillow hugged to your chest and eyes shut.

He’s stealthy as he joins you in bed, sliding in behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

It takes everything in you not to shake his arm off.

As he leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, a tear slides down your temple and buries itself in the pillows.

~*~

Steve’s confused at your sudden change in behaviour, constantly checking his phone for texts from you and missing your touch when he sits on the couch reading a report.

You’re standing in the kitchen a few days later, talking softly to Yelena and Wanda while Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Steve all sit on the couches in your living room.

The two women lead the way into the living room and you follow them, not stopping your conversation as you take a seat between the two of them.

Steve’s eyes are focused on you, waiting for you to look at him, to realize that you’re not sitting in the right spot and that you should be closer to him, but you never do.

You stay engaged in your conversation, laughing at something Yelena says before turning your attention to Wanda.

Bucky watches curiously as Steve balls his hands into fists then turns back to the conversation he was having, his voice slightly more strained than before.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asks later that evening after almost everyone else has gone home.

You’re already in bed, oblivious to the conversation they’re having.

“I thought it was, but not cold turkey. She hardly texts me unless I text first, she doesn't kiss me goodbye anymore, and she hasn’t sat beside me once in the past week.”

Bucky shrugs, “you’re the one who said she was too clingy.”

Steve knows.

He fucking knows.

And maybe he’ll like it, but first, he needs to get to the bottom of why you’ve switched so quickly.

After bidding Bucky goodbye, Steve joins you in the bedroom, climbing into bed beside you and rolling onto his side to watch you.

Your attention is focused on the TV as if he isn’t in bed with you at all.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you reach over and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, then turn off the TV.

You don’t do it on purpose, but he doesn't say anything.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, turning onto your back and facing away from him.

He stares at you in shock.

The past couple of nights he’s come into bed after you’ve been asleep, but tonight he was sure you’d cuddle up against him like you usually do.

“Goodnight. I love you,” he murmurs, heart racing in his chest as he waits for your reply.

“I love you too.” There it is.

It settles his heart a tiny bit to hear you whisper the words, but he’s still confused by your actions.

You always cuddle up to him.

Always.

Every night that he’s been home for the past year.

And now you’re not even wearing his clothes to bed.

He can’t sleep at all that night, too focused on how strange you’ve been acting and how much he fucking hates it.

And then it dawns on him.

You must’ve heard him talking to Bucky.

That’s the only explanation.

His heart hurts in his chest and guilt floods his body. He tosses his head back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself for ever speaking those stupid words.

He was just having a bad week. He was overwhelmed with work and briefings and then you were always by his side.

It was too much.

And now you’re doing everything in your power to distance yourself from him.

You’re lying in the same bed but you’ve never been further away.

Sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of your body, but you may as well be a thousand miles away.

The guilt wells up in his eyes and slips down his cheeks as he rolls onto his side and pulls you against his body, burying his face in your hair.

Fuck, he feels terrible.

All night he thinks about how much you do for him, how much you love him and everything you’ve given to him and sacrificed for him. And he couldn’t even appreciate you properly. No, he had to go and run his mouth about bullshit that he didn’t even mean.

He has to make this right.

He will.

He just has no idea where to start.

~*~

When you wake up the next morning there’s a strong arm secured around your waist.

You’re so used to waking up alone that you can’t help but cuddle into it. That is, until you remember his complaints.

Shifting as slowly as you can, you try to slip out of his grip, but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

“You’re leaving?” He asks into your hair, his voice groggy.

You swallow hard and clear your throat.

“Bathroom,” is all you manage to whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh but slowly unwinds his arm from around your waist.

“You’re gonna come back after, right?” He asks, his voice soft.

You hesitate before getting up, unsure of what to say.

Are you?

You don’t particularly want to.

Well, that’s not true. You want to, more than anything, but you don’t want to overwhelm him and smother him with your clingy nature.

“Do you want me to?” You end up asking, glancing over at him.

He slowly opens his eyes, sadness filling them, and you regret asking.

“Honey... what I said the other day... to Buck... I wasn’t thinking, sweetheart. I don’t think you’re too clingy, not at all. I think you’re perfect for me and the way that things have been lately… All the distance between us? It’s been unbearable. I hate it. I didn’t know what changed at first but... I’m sorry.”

Your heart is in your throat at the fact that he knows you heard what he said.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I’m sorry,” you whisper, pushing into a seated position to get off the bed.

“Honey, wait. Please. Please, don’t go. I miss you. So damn much. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were. And... I know that will probably take time, but I just miss you so fucking much.”

Tears prickle at your eyes and you sniffle, refusing to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to be clingy. I know... I know I can be a lot. It’s one of the issues Jeremy and I had. I can give you space, Steve.”

His heart cracks and he sits up behind you, one hand finding your lower back in an attempt to get closer to you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want space. You’ve given me space and it’s been the worst experience of my life. I just want you back. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and talk to you and be near you. I love you and you... you make me feel important. You make me feel loved.”

He has to fight his own tears as he speaks, and you sit silently in front of him, eyes focused on the carpet.

“For so much of my life, I felt alone, besides Bucky. I felt like I had no one and no one would love me. And then I went under and I woke up and... everything was different. I was a man out of time. I never thought I would ever have found someone who loves me as wholly as you do. And I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you need to change yourself.”

His arms wind around you and he pulls your back against his chest, slowly rocking you from side to side as you sniffle.

“You are everything I have ever wanted and more, sweetheart. I love you for everything you are and everything you do, and I’m so damn sorry I ever made you feel like you were too clingy. You’re perfect for me. Sometimes I think that you’re the reason why I survived it all. Was so that I could find you. You’re it for me.”

His words help to heal the wounds he caused, but what really does it is the meaning behind it. The love he’s pouring into every syllable he speaks is powerful enough for you to feel without even trying.

You know he regrets what he said. But, more importantly, you know he’s not Jeremy.

Steve loves you.

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him, and his heart breaks even more when he sees the tears on your cheeks.

“If I’m ever too much, you gotta promise to let me know, okay?” You whisper.

He huffs out a weak laugh and shakes his head, squeezing you to his chest.

“You are never too much for me. You’re everything I could ever want or need and so much more. You’re perfect for me. And I’m gonna try my hardest to be good enough for you because I love you. I love you with my whole heart and soul.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you whisper, burying your face in his shoulder as he hugs you tightly.

And there on the bed in the dim morning light, Steve clings to you.

He clings to you like you’re his lifeline, like you’re the energy that keeps him going.

He clings to you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

[nyancrimew]

Do you think your race/nationality may influence on the consequences of hacking? Or like how far you can even get?

I'm asking because I very rarely see a "prominent" hackitvist that's not white European/USA

it is definitely a factor yes, especially with me, like the only reason im free rn is because switzerland doesn't extradite citizens. but another very big part of it is that to become a widely prominent hacktivist (and as with many other things) you either need to do things western media cares about or get in trouble with the law big time (in the west), which also usually implies being in a country that actively works together with primarily the US or other empires that actively and publicly work against hacking and hacktivists. there are lots of hacktivists in asia and latin america (specifically phineas fisher here also being a popular figure, who is believed to be in latam and has yet to be caught) as well especially (also elsewhere ofc but i dont know of as many), but they are either doing hacktivism within their communities which are usually not internationally that news worthy, or are out of reach enough for the US empire to never get unmasked.

in a lot of ways being a popular hacktivist as an individual is actually moreso a failing in staying safe from consequences by either you or people you work with (see in the history of lulzsec and most of the now well known anonymous figures in the US) or a conscious choice done out of the knowledge that you'll be relatively safe/recklessness. but i definitely feel like international (social) media bias towards western interests is also just a very big part of why you will mostly only ever hear of (assumed) white european/american hacktivists.

and also just as a quick closing note, i would not say that (even white) people in the US or the US sphere of influence are safe from consequences due to hacking in any way, the US is one of the strictest countries when it comes to persecuting hackers and goes to long ways to be as cruel as possible, and especially so with hacktivists. this goes so far that in the 2020 counterintel report the US government put hacktivists/leaktivists on the top 5 biggest threats to the US government, which is ofc both a honor (and shows it works and scares them) but is ofc also scary as fuck. it is this big spectacle they make out of persecuting hackers and making examples out of them that also leads to more of the very distorted prominence of western hackers.

[hoshigray]

Hello (◍•ᴗ•◍)

I really like your work it's so good!! And i saw your request is open soooo

Can i request delinquent/bad boy sukuna x student council president reader? Like they hate each other bc reader is very strict with the rule while sukuna just break it anyway. One day, sukuna saw the reader in a party which make him confused bc reader is not the type to do fun stuff. And moments later they fuck

Sorry if this is a very detailed request. Feel free to ignore it or change it :3

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my, another sukuna req! things bout to get hot, hehe~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - blackmail - fingering (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - facials - use of a phone; sexual photography - impact play (spanking) - full nelson position - degradation (cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - humiliation - overstimulation - pet names (brat, princess, woman) - dick piercing (frenulum) - usage of drugs & alcohol - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

Sukuna was grinning ear to ear as he marched his way toward you. “Y/n.”

You perked at your name, and your face contoured to brief shock before shifting to mild annoyance. “Sukuna.”

Running into you at a huge party was the last thing Sukuna expected to see. But it’s a situation he will take advantage of expeditiously. 

College is hard enough being the top dog of the student government association and trying to juggle senior classes. It is your job to keep the school and its students in order, maintaining a pretty face as it’s been doing decently for the several years before you. The entire student body knows you take your job seriously, earning the respect they give you with every step you take and being praised by professors and faculty alike — even being invited to have dinner with the university president along your association! 

But of course, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows because there are always downsides to the good — one of them being a ginormous thorn to your being. 

Ryōmen Sukuna is a man you’ve been dealing with for almost four years. Known for his intimidating cadence whenever he walks the halls, the brutality of his moves as he’s the famous trump card of the school’s jiu-jitsu club, and his cold and demeaning manner of speech when talking down to others he deems beneath him, he is regarded at the campus’ “demon dog.” Someone that many can never believe is the older brother of the freshman track star sweetheart, Yuuji Itadori.

He is a person that many say is the complete opposite face when compared to you, a fact you have no choice but to agree with a twitching brow. Looking through all the disruptive students you’ve dealt with, Sukuna would be crowned King for being the most colossal nuisance of your life. Whether it be reporting him to the campus police for picking fistfights with the juniors, smoking in smoke-free zones, adding more tattoos to his face and arms, or willingly trashing places because he thinks he can, no one has been more subject to give you more grey hairs. He just doesn’t listen — he won’t listen! 

And the worst part is that he enjoyed making your life a living hell. God, he’s such a fucking bastard, not wanting to deal with outside of your academic life.

…Until you two see each other from across the living room where a huge party is held in one of the off-campus apartments, perplexed crimson eyes locked on with widened ones, too shocked to take a sip of your drink from your red solo cup. You immediately turned to the group before you, hoping the sea of kids and the bouncing bass could distort your image from his vision. 

Too late; the salmon-haired senior couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he slithers past people to get to where you are. Students move out of the way for him to move, the group you were hanging with gasps with wary stares, and Sukuna taps your bare shoulder. 

“Never figured the student government president would be here,” his voice was chilling as always. Yet you remain a neutral face when facing him. “Something tells me there isn’t apple juice in that solo cup.”

The group you were hanging out with instantly excused themselves to somewhere else in the apartment, leaving you alone with Sukuna. You rolled your eyes, “What is it, Ryōmen?” You feel disgusted as his red eyes scan your figure, taking in the off-shoulder, long-sleeved bodycon dress you were wearing. True, you don’t wear stuff like this all the time, but you can’t expect this bastard to have any amount of decency or subtlety. 

“Whatcha doin’ here, prez?” God, you hated him calling you that, knowing good and damn well what your name was — but, again, why would he bother; not respecting you enough to do something simple as that. “Isn’t this kind of thing what you’re against for and all?”

“Hmph, am I not allowed to have some fun at a party I was invited to?” You furrowed your brows and took an aggressive sip. “Besides, this is off-campus housing; the property owners are the ones who’ll have anyone’s asses if stuff breaks or cause disruption against the codes.” 

“Oh, so the uptight President is off duty this time? Hmm, ain’t that something,” he leans against the wall beside you with crossed arms. Your gaze was averted to the crowd bumping and grinding rather than acknowledging the delinquent examining you. “I figured you’d be somewhere pulling your panties to some poor bastard.”

“Watch your tone when talking to me, Ryōmen,” you finally send him a glare through your peripherals. It humored him, a devilish chortle you could hear even through the loud bass. “Lucky for you, I’m only here to have a good time with some friends before heading home to assignments. So, do me a favor and don’t start shit for me to take home and stress over.” 

He lifts a brow, “Is that so? Miss Prez came to let loose, huh.” You didn’t like how he said that — nor how he moved to lean closer to you. His cologne disrupts your nostrils. “Never thought you had that side of you.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Ryōmen,” you swing your cup around with a scoff. “And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

And you thought you’d win this round as Sukuna doesn’t say anything to you for a few seconds. However, the man goes through his pocket to pull out his phone to pull up something. And when he finds it, he flashes the screen to your direction. “You mean things like these?” You turn to look at the device, and your eyes go wide with an agape mouth. What he was showing were photos — a whole lot — of you. 

“You know, I’m sure it must be hard being president of the student body; that’s why I don’t envy you,” one photo shown is of you smoking in the Honors Lounge with a few of your student government associates, an action undoubtedly prohibited within the facilities. “So, I can’t blame you when you decide to settle down and let yourself go for a minute,” he swipes his finger to pictures of you drinking liquor with some other students who smoke blunts and have weed plastered on the coffee table. “However, you really outta be careful with what you’re doing, Y/n; you got people who look up to you and expect so much from you.” Another picture shows you at some dark nightclub with a guy friend, shoving middle fingers and sticking tongues out at the camera. 

Your lips quiver with every swipe, and lips quiver, “Wh…Where did you get those…”

“Hmm? I can’t share that information. Heh, plus, I like to keep tabs on those who can get on my nerves,” he stuffs the phones back into his dark jean pocket. “But I can’t lie; the more I look at those pictures and compare them to the little president that nags too damn much, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if someone were to leak these out for the whole school to see. Which would drop quicker: your presidential scholarship and accolades or your reputation?”

“You fucking asshole…!”

You swiftly throw your cup at Sukuna, but the pink-haired man dodges easily and grabs your wrist — the poor guy behind him gets drenched with your drink. “Hey!” The guy grabs Sukuna’s shoulder and is immediately met with the infamous death glare. “…My fault, bro, don’t worry about it. I’ll go dry off,” the student says while backtracking away from those fearsome eyes. 

You’re trembling with vexed shakes; the hand on your wrist holds you tight with no sign to let go unless necessary. Otherwise, you know he’ll break it if you make one wrong move. “…What the hell do you want from me?“

Now Sukuna has you in the palm of his hand — his sinister grin growing as he leans closer to be inches away from your face. “My apartment is on the top floor; you have ten minutes to get your ass up there,” you don’t move a centimeter when he draws near your ear to whisper. “I’ll show you how to really get loose, Miss President.”

The words felt like sharp daggers to your throat, “You…devil.”

He snickers into your ear, “Pick your poison, and you’ll see just how much of a devil I can be.”

And with that, Sukuna straightens himself up and heads out, his frame disappearing deep into the crowd till you can’t see him anymore. Your heartbeat goes at a pace way too irregular to call ordinary, and your blood too cold as it has your skin suffer in shivers. 

This was a nightmare — an absolute, horrifying nightmare. There’s no way the guy that you hate with your very guts just blackmailed you! This was not how this night was supposed to go; now your whole reputation — what you’ve built with your own two hands — is being held in front of you and is dependent on going to this asshole’s apartment. Who the hell does he think he is!?

You didn’t want to go. You wouldn’t go! Especially under the premise of that fucker, playing with your life like some toy. Your thoughts were inner turmoil, challenging your morals and conscience on what to do. Your pride was trying to pull up a good fight, holding onto whatever dignity you have to validate not going up on the elevator and seeing Sukuna for what he’s about to do to you. They’re just pictures; people will think they’re edited or question if they’re valid!

However, the fact that you spent five minutes going back and forth with this suggests those were anything but pictures. He had ammunition to bring you down — to humble and look down on you — and have everyone do the same, no matter what you could say to justify yourself. So, swallowing your ego, you exit the party and walk the hallway down to the elevator. Every floor you ascended made you feel small, and when the doors opened for you to step out and you saw him leaning on his door waiting for you, your fate had been sealed. 

The same smirk he had at the party was plastered on his face. You were no longer in control of the situation; you are now in his domain — and you should follow his commands to keep up.

“Gahhh! Mmmph, Ryooo, stop—Eeek! Y’re hitting so ha—Ahhh!”

“What? You thought I was going to be easy with you? After all those times you’ve pestered me to no end? Hah, think again, prez.”

Being in the same space with Sukuna is something you never comprehended happening civilly in all your years of knowing him. Now, being laid on top of his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed is jarring in its own sentence. The skirt of your dress was pulled up, your ass and panties out for the cool air to caress. Not until Sukuna rips you off your underwear and starts giving your bare butt unforeseen strikes. The impact of his hand was so harsh that you gripped his jean-clad leg with a scream. 

He goes about this for a solid five minutes, giving your asscheeks slaps – and your cries have him chuckle and do some more. And you can’t squirm out of his hold, or else he’ll dent the skin of your butt with his fingertips, piercing into the tense muscle to inflict pain like no other. God, it hurt so bad, every smack taking your breath away. 

“Look at you,” he coos, rubbing his hand on the hot skin. The pain was so bad to the point of your eyes watering; simply hovering his Hand over you was enough to have you in shudders. “Whatever happened to the poised and resilient Y/n who’d always dare threaten me for my behavior? This person on me, screaming like a whore, can’t be the same Y/n.” 

You grit your teeth, turning over your shoulder to express your seething glare. “Who are you calling a whore, you fucking—Deeeii! Ohhh!” Sukuna sneaks a forefinger inside your wet cunt, not bothering to warn you. “Wai—Tahhh! Take it out, take it out right—Noooh!!”

“Oh, don’t even think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, slut,” you bite your lip as he moves his finger into your vagina with such merciless vigor. “And with how you’re crying like a bitch, you sound pretty whore-ish to me.”

Oh, go fuck yourself! You could have told him that — but you didn’t because he squeezes in his middle finger to insert inside your tight chasm, both digits now rummaging inside your vaginal walls and scraping them to the point of drooling babbles on your part. You couldn’t think of anything, not when he’s still throwing smacks on your ass with his free hand. You can’t even wipe the spit that comes down your lips because he distracts you with more jabs to your inner walls and pinches to the skin of your butt. Fuck, fuuuck!!

And it gets worse when you feel his thumb dance around your asshole. “N–No, stop it, Sukuna! That’s dirty, don’t—Mmnaahh!!” He slips it inside without care; the pain of his thumb forcing inside your puckered anus almost has you shut down.

“That’s the point, prez,” he bites his lip with a pestilent snicker. “Gonna make you so fucking dirty tonight, wanna ruin that perfect image of yours that you don’t recognize yourself. He scratches your butt, resulting in you clamping onto his digits with a grip that feeds his ego. “Mhmm, just like that, princess.”

How dare he play with your ass like a toy and have the nerve to call you that? Such a sick man; the hate you have for him boils your blood to no end. “Ahhh, stoop, too fast, please, go slo—Mmmph!?”

He shoves two fingers in your mouth to stifle your cries. “That’ll keep you from squealing, fucking pig.” And he continues to toy with your slit and anus, your whimpers muffled by his thick fingers.

“Take it all in, Y/n, every single fucking inch, ya hear?…Mmmm, yeah, deep in your throat like that.” 

This. Is. The. Worst! There’s absolutely no way you’re sucking Sukuna’s cock right now; this is the very last thing you’d want to be doing! He’s standing with his dark jeans and briefs on his thighs, his hand on the back of your head to make sure your mouth remains on his dick at all times. If you could, you would’ve chewed the damn thing off and made a run for it. 

But you came here for a reason, so you keep your disdain at bay and begrudgingly suck on Sukuna’s glans, having the salmon-haired man purr from above you. And it doesn’t help that he holds his phone to take pictures of you and said add more to his collection. God, he’s so disgusting…

“Fhhh, fuck, that feels good,” he groans at you taking his girth. Your lips down to the hilt, burrowing his length deep into the warm, tight tunnel of your throat. “Who woulda thought the strict, by-the-book Y/n would take in dick so well?” You narrow your eyes at him as you bob your face up and down, earning a hearty chuckle from the pleased man. “That face of yours, baby, so furious with me, huh.”

You try to pay him no mind, distracting yourself with the task at hand by licking one of his balls before sucking them. Your hands increase in speed when stroking him, having the man above unable to stop bucking his hips to your fist for more enviable friction. 

“Shit, yeah, yes,” he throws his head back in bliss, and you can tell he’s about finished while feeling his cock pulsate under your touch. “Bring your face here.”

He does it for you – his hand on your head for a reason – and forces you close to his cock before he jerks himself for release. And his come exudes with a force, landing right on your face. You fight every fiber of your being to move away, accepting his essence to paint your cheeks, nose, and lips. It was unbelievable how disgracious he was, just plain selfish and unapologetically nasty. 

You hear the phone snap, throwing another scowl at the pink-haired responsible. “Lookin’ like a real cumslut for me, prez.”

And the worst part of all finally comes around — the thing you dreaded once you stepped out of that party and into that elevator.

“—Fffaaahh! Hooohshiiit! This is crazy—Eeeee!”

“Fuckin’ shit, you’re tight as hell, woman…Khhh…! Tryin’ to milk me dry, huh, Y/n…”

Sukuna lies beneath you with his legs bent away, his arms wrapped underneath your legs, and pushing them to your chest from behind. His cock is entombed inside your leaking slit as he thrusts up to you with every second, and the sound of your ass smacking onto his thighs fills the space.

He has his hands behind your neck, demanding you to look at the union of your sexes, and your face couldn’t get any hotter than watching the obscenity. He’s been fucking you for more than ten minutes now, his cum inside you from the last round stains a white ‘o’ around the base of him, and the sticky substance so vulgar to look at it stretching with his push and pull motions. And the squelching – the goddamn squelching! – it only furthered the fog clouding your mind.

There was no point concealing your wails; your lips were forced open with every jab from Sukuna. Jesus, he was so fucking big — your poor cunt stretched to accommodate his intrusion. You clamp onto him more when he pulls, the barbell piercing his frenulum and scraping your walls from the descent and grazing your G-spot.

“Fuck, fuuuck, hsssh…!” It was hard to concentrate on anything outside of this, and you couldn’t tell if you were speaking adequately or prattling like some sex-crazed fool. You sigh with rolled eyes when he sends sporadic ruts out of nowhere, clenching onto his shaft with a tug. 

It has Sukuna groan hotly, his breath steaming your skin. “Holy fuck, you really love gripping my cock, don’t you, princess?”

“I–I can’t help it! You keep ’n hit—Haishhh!” Your eyes meet the ceiling at the jab of your A-spot, the pressure making you feel full. “You—hic—…Yo’re the one m’king me like thisss…”

“Is that right?” He takes slow thrusts to draw out your pleasure; your broken howls were music to his ears. “Sounds like the to be enjoying yourself.” You hurriedly shake your head no, and he throws a bitter pound to your hypersensitive chasm. “Brat, why the hell else are you milking me like this for, then?” 

“Becauseee, it feels….Mmmm,” No, you can’t say that. Don’t tell him what he wants to hear.

“Hmm? Feels what?” You can hear the smirk on his lips. You don’t say anything except muffled hums, so he probes you, “You want me to send out those pictures, huh? Show just how much of a terrible president you are, how you love to go dumb on my dick?”

Of course not! “Do—Don’t you dare…!”

“Then answer the question: how does it feel, hmm? Tell me, how do you feel being fucked by the guy you hate so much?”

Oh, damn you, Ryōmen Sukuna! It was now you shed a tear, your hands grabbing for his forearms for purchase. 

“—Fucking ‘ell, it feels good,” you said it, your last bit of dignity finally thrown for the man to shred apart. “Feels ‘oo good, you make me feel—Geheehh…so damn good…!”

Oh, that was more than enough for him. Sukuna’s sneer becomes broader, and his chuckles are felt from your back. “What a dirty bitch for me, princess…”

His hips go back to an unsteady fashion, propelling his dick to his base, and the brushes of his piercing massage your walls too precisely. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing down on you with a scream, the walls of your cunt contracting around Sukuna for the third time that night. Your nails dig into his arms, and drool leaves your pretty agape mouth as he allows you to ride out your climax.

Sukuna whistles at the sensation of you fluttering on his girth. “Phew, damn, that was a good fuck. You know how to keep up with me, woman; you’d make a great pet.”

You were sick of him, gulping to wet your dry throat. “Delete…the fucking…pictures.” Your empty threat only has him click his tongue with a scoff.

“Not so fast there, prez; the fun was just getting good.” Your heart sinks to the soles of your feet. “So, be a good brat and know your place is under me tonight.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[deerydear]

The idea of martial arts stuck out to me...

Uke (受け) (IPA: [ɯke]) is in Japanese martial arts the person who "receives" a technique. The exact role of uke varies between the different arts and often within the art itself depending on the situation. For instance, in aikido, judo kata, and bujinkan ninjutsu, uke initiates an attack against their partner, who then defends, whereas in competition judo, there is no designated uke.

The yaoi fan's usage of the terms had originally derived from the practice of martial arts, rather than the other way around.

Beyond Birthday must have had some knowledge of martial arts, as he was able to recognise Misora's Capoeira from a single encounter.

He had known she would dodge. But even so, even with that in mind, that woman was impressive. Dodging his attack without even turning around, and moving instantly to an attack of her own — he could see why L was using her as his pawn. She had brains and guts — as she must. She had the right. She was worthy of being his opponent. The assailant cracked his neck. And with his head still hanging at an odd angle, he walked on down the street. Misora's attacker... The man behind the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, Beyond Birthday, walked on down the street, grinning cruelly.

...

"Oh, and — Naomi Misora, do take all precautions for your own safety. You are the only person who can work for me on this case. If you fall, there is no one who can replace you." He must be referring to the fight in the alley. She was caught off guard by this. No one who could replace her? For L it might be a very casual pronouncement, or just an outright lie, but Misora found it hard to believe it was even being applied to her. "Don't worry. I wasn't hurt." "No—I mean, take care not to place yourself in a situation in which you might be attacked. Avoid back roads, alleys, and other deserted areas. It might take longer, but stick to crowded areas and busy streets." "I'm fine, L. And I can take care of myself. I've trained in martial arts." "Have you? In what? Karate? Or judo?" "Capoeira." Even over the scrambled line, she could tell L wasn't sure how to respond. She admitted capoeira was an unusual choice for a Japanese FBI agent. Misora felt a moment's gleeful pride, as if she'd out-smarted L — though she knew she had done nothing of the kind. "Yeah, I thought it was crap till I actually started it, but I got involved in street dancing in college and joined a capoeira group as an extension of that. It's actually a really effective form of self-defense for a woman. The basic techniques all involve dodging your opponent's attacks, which means it isn't possible to overpower a block like it is in karate or judo. We can never match a man for power. And the acrobatic, tricky movements in capoeira give you time to get a good look at your assailant." “Really? That makes sense," L said, sounding impressed. Genuinely impressed, not just saying so. “Your description makes it sound interesting. If I have time, I will have to look at some videos... but however confident you are, if they have a gun, or outnumber you, the situation changes. Take all the precautions you can." “Of course. Don't worry, I always do."

...

L once said that he only investigates the mysteries that interest him, personally. His work as a detective is entirely up to his whim. I notice he approaches this discussion with that same attitude -- not doing things just because "they'd make him look good".

“It’s not a sense of justice. Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly … For me, too, it’s simply prolonging doing something I enjoy doing. That’s why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It’s not justice at all. And if it means being able to clear a case, I don’t play fair. I’m a dishonest, cheating human being who hates losing.”

...

“The killer is presumably working alone, but, Ryuzaki, when it comes time to arrest him there will be a struggle." “Don't worry. I can take him one-on-one. I may not look it, but I am quite strong. And you're trained in capoeira, right?" “Yeah, but..."

...

"Wait..." she murmured. As cobwebs formed over her mind, she murmured, "Now... when did I tell Ryuzaki about the capoeira?"

About the meaning of Seme and Tame:

Unfortunately, their “real” meaning often tends to get lost in literal or lazy translations. Other times it is lost to the convenience of focusing only on the exterior meaning, in the arrogant assumption that one understands everything just because this superficial translation encompasses all you like or believe you know already. These approaches prevent us from understanding the full meaning of these expressions, negating a real opportunity to grow by “experiencing” the term. At the same time they throw us into the total chaos, which often follows the attribution of complex meanings to simple and clear words.

Having now set the scene I would like to focus on two terms in particular: SEME and TAME.

SEME literally means “The state in which an unrelenting, determined position of advantage is maintained on the opponent. For example Kiryoko-ni-yoru-seme (to attack with “fighting spirit”), Ken-sen-ni-yoru-seme (to attack with the sword) and Datotsu-ni-yoru-seme (to attack by hitting)”. Often, we tend to over simplify by associating seme with its physical manifestation, such as a small step forward with the kensen dominating the opponent’s centre. However, this is just the superficial aspect. True it is a convenient foundation from where to start approaching the concept. However, to grow within the experience of our practice, we have to shift the focus to how, when, and where seme is created. We could say that seme begins within us. It is our determination and our will to express ourselves through the attack we are about to make. It is the propensity to take the initiative (sen), creating a rupture (suki) in the opponent’s mental and/or physical position. While the tangible expression may vary according to situations and/or the opponent’s technical/physical abilities (manifesting in advancing, moving laterally or backwards, in raising or lowering the kensen, in using harai waza, etc...) the spiritual attitude does not change! To achieve this it is essential to harmonise with, and empathize with, your sparring partner. Unless the attitude of both kendoka, during practice, focuses on the research and study of this feeling, seme will always be incomplete, restricted to its technical/physical form, resulting in random outcomes (it may or may not succeed, but the reason will always be unclear), as it does not fuses with a strong spirit. Seme must be sought and expressed in its totality, as a whole. K. Hasegawa Sensei used an expression that I believe gives a very clear meaning to the term: “Seme is like water, a fluid that penetrates into a material permeating it, till it changes its consistency”.

[...]

I believe that these few lines can help people understand, or at least rationalise these two concepts. They encompass what all my “current” experience allows me to understand. Clearly, they cannot substitute for the direct experience one acquires with the constant practice. Undoubtedly, kendo cannot be separated from the direct experience, from listening to our bodies, mind, and knowledge.

“Mmm?” The station entrance had just come into view, and standing in front of it was an awkward, uncomfortable-looking man. A young man, with an intense expression. There were lines under his eyes so dark she wondered if they were actually done with makeup. Like he hadnt slept in days — no, like he had never slept in his life. Like his sense of justice would not allow him time to sleep, since he had so many difficult cases to think about, battling unfathomable pressure on a daily basis. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and blue jeans. His bare feet were crammed directly into beaten sneakers. "??" She had a strange sense of deja vu. Like she'd seen him or met him once before. There was something about him that reminded her of Rue Ryuzaki — of Beyond Birthday. But the resemblance was backward, like this was the original, and the other had been a copy. “Um, have we...?' She asked, even though he was hardly blocking the entrance bodily, and she could have simply ignored him and walked on inside. The young man instantly leapt at her. Leapt at her? No, that's not right. He actually tried to throw his arms around her. “Huh?! No!" Misora instantly bent backward, brushing off the man's embrace, and moved smoothly on to the offensive. She lowered her upper body backward, spinning once in the air and raising her back legs like a scorpion, slamming both heels down onto the man's shoulders. Both blows hit hard, and the impact knocked him off balance. With a thunderous crash, he tumbled down the subway stairs. Whoops. A little overboard. Certainly, he had assaulted her, but Misora quickly righted herself and ran down after him. "Are you okay?" she asked. He was lying on his stomach like a crushed frog. “I see," he muttered, seemingly talking to himself. “Watching videos and seeing it for real is quite different, but now I think I understand." “Hunh?" What was he talking about? Had he hit his head on something? Her first day back at work, and already in trouble... “Um... can you stand?" Misora said, reaching out toward him. The man looked up at her, his eyes in shadow, as if two holes were staring at her. "Thank you,' he said, and took her hand. Misora pulled him upright. "Are you injured? Does it hurt anywhere?” "I'm fine, thank you,” the man said, not letting go of her hand. Even on his feet, he did not attempt to move away. They appeared to be shaking hands. Like warriors on a battlefield, exchanging a firm handshake after surviving yet another bloody fight. "You are very kind,” he said, with something like a smile, and at last let go of her hand. Then he tottered away as if nothing at all had happened, slowly climbing the stairs again. "Ah... w-wait! Just a second!” Misora had almost let him go, but a moment later she ran after him, circling around in front of him again. She was an FBI agent and could not let an assault crime go unpunished. The young man was sucking his thumb. He did not appear to be at all nervous. "If you aren't hurt, then you'll have to come with me. Sexual assault is a serious crime. You can't go around throwing your arms around women. What were you thinking?” "..." “Don't just stand there. Say something. This attitude won't make things easier for you. What's your name?” Naomi Misora had asked his name. The young man nodded. And answered. "Please call me Ryuzaki,” he said, unperturbed. Just like someone else had.

Conversely, the Uke should rarely attack with too much energy. When performing a push attack, you would never run at someone with arms extended out to push. Instead, you would charge the Nage in a realistic manner and only extend your arms to push when close enough to do so. I've witness many Aikido demonstrations, randori especially, where the Uke(s) trot towards Nage with arms out and a beautiful throw ensues.

-- Being a Bad Uke + How to be a great training-partner.

I find this idea very interesting, because you can see that L didn't display ego.

He was willing to be in the receiving position, in order to get closer to understanding.

The most intelligent people disguise the fact that they are intelligent. Wise men do not wear name-tags. The more people talk about their own skills, the more desperate they are — their work should speak for itself.

Re: Aggressive Top

The question of whether or not this dialogue is as much of an innuendo in the Japanese as it is in the English came up, so I went to check.

B describes himself as 強気攻め. The first two kanji mean something like ‘self-assured’, which is what got translated as aggressive, while the noun is….

Seme. It’s not written in kana like the gay slang usually is so it’s not unambiguously the same term, but the innuendo still has some presence.

It isn’t as pervasive as in the English translation though because the word that is used for ‘being submissive’ isn’t the corresponding gay slang term. 

It’s just ‘mamoru’, which makes the whole language connection between ‘being on the defensive’ vs ‘following traffic regulations’ possible as both things would use the same verb. ‘Submissive’ in the English was likely picked to keep up this language connection, because otherwise the traffic light comment doesn’t actually make sense in conversational context. Gotta keep connections.

The innuendo isn’t as prevalent in the Japanese but also not totally absent. 

(Disclaimer: I am only recently starting a formal Japanese education and I’m in no way fluent in the language. All I’ve got going for me is a dictionary. If anybody with better language skill has something to add, PLEASE feel free.)