#I like the idea of these two getting to swim

[werevampiwolf]

Yeah. At 19, I was finally diagnosed with autism and as unable to live independently without years of occupational therapy and my mother said "fuck that" and threw me out of the house two days later. She'd fought the doctors my entire life to stopbe from being diagnosed, because then that would mean there was something "wrong" with me.

I was homeless for over a year. I'm no longer homeless, mostly due to getting very very lucky with circumstances outside my control (like the fact that I was young enough and had been homeless long enough while continuing to take classes at the local community college to qualify for a government grant for Unaccompanied Homeless Youth, which allowed me to get an apartment. And i was only able to take classes because I was poor enough that the classes were free, and because i had a broken laptop and it never got stolen AND i already knew how to fix computers so I was about to Franken-Computer it into it being and staying at least slightly usable AND the fact that the nearest Starbucks was understanding and didn't throw me out or call the cops when I spent hours in there to do coursework), so my mother takes this as a win. Obviously, the doctor must have been wrong because when I was forced to sink or swim, I've stayed alive (very literally in this case).

I would argue that even now, going on a decade later, I'm not so much "living on my own" as I am "barely surviving", but I try to make it very clear, both to her and to people I tell this story to, that the problem with "Sink or Swim" is that people who sink fucking DROWN.

Because even as someone who was forced, and who managed to just barely keep my head above the water... I'm a very staunch opponent to the idea of Sink or Swim. What I had to live through was horrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But not only that, I was very acutely aware that my only options were to figure it out or to quite literally Die.

As someone who survived the extreme of the other side of this coin that OP is talking about... the idea that I or anyone else could manage to survive such circumstances and then turn around and insist that the ends justify the means is both baffling and appalling to me, though I know that it very much happens. I cannot see it as anything other than "I suffered, so you should have to suffer too." It's awful to be on either side of this coin, and if you think it's okay for force people to Sink or Swim, whether you've been in that situation or not, than you can fuck right off with that shit.

Side note, I'm someone with support needs on the higher end of medium. I still can't manage to brush my teeth independently, and I don't manage to feed myself consistently, though I at least manage to do it often enough to get enough calories in me to stay alive (and that's ignoring anything other than calories that make up a healthy and balanced diet, because that's not an option for me. It's eat whatever junk food I manage to get into my my mouth or starve). I have to rely on schedules, because my brain doesn't really understand what hunger feels like. I just eventually feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I'm lucky, my brain figures out that I haven't eaten in all day and that's probably why. But there are days when, even if you put a plate of food in front of me, it wouldn't occur to me to eat it. I will just sit there and stare at it (or into space) without outside promoting to eat. I maybe manage to take out the trash or do laundry every two weeks if I lucky, and sometimes it's only once a month, or less. I have plastic bottles that haven't been taken out in at least six months, and probably closer to a year. Perhaps the only reason I can see the other side of this coin is because I basically live as close to edge as is physically possible without going over the edge, but I really hope that's not it. I don't think people should have to be constantly teetering on the knife-edge of this reality to understand that It's Really Fucking Bad to force people to Sink or Swim, or as I prefer to call it, Survive Or Die.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

[mangohgeckoh]

Pirate!Silco x Mermaid! Reader

A/N: You asked and I delivered! Fair warning: I do not guarantee that I will be updating this fic as frequently as my current ongoing one: Chemical Reaction, but I do already have plot lined up and 5 chapters with 4k+ words within each one. Unlike CR, this will only be posted on Tumblr.

Tags and warnings: NSFW, smut, MDNI, fluff, nudity, betrayal, violence, interspecies relationship

-

A quick thank you: Thank you to anyone who commented and voted on my original post! Here are the lovely people who were enthusiastic enough about the project to comment on the original post: @sarynnah @pinklunarprincess @teriyakiitae @bloodyshadow737

I hope this lives up to your expectations!

-

Gunpowder and Green Shells

Chapter 1

1781

Curtains of light cerulean danced underneath the dark waves. Moonlight pierced through the waves in small increments while a prominent trail of red followed the body descending the depths. Bubbles outlined the body as the ocean began to accept it, the surface becoming a faint memory.

The part of the ocean you had called home was littered with shipwrecks and discarded items that those above kept losing. Your residence was in between two warring islands, a very poor choice for a place to live. But the ocean floor you had chosen as your territory had not been a battle zone between the two islands when you claimed your place among the wreckage. Why leave an area so abundant with shiny objects and food? In the past you attempted to leave for the open ocean, but was almost eaten by a larger creature.

So you were content with your choice.

Somewhat.

It was quite lonely for you, but you always blamed where you lived. Still, no other creature resembles your half fish-half woman body. It presented many complications, namely the inability to communicate with the sealife.

But a very odd smell wafted through your gills while they filtered the water in and out of your system. Blood. Curiosity and animalistic desire snapped you out of your monotonous routine.

Your powerful tail propelled your body with a sideways motion, following the smell of human blood out of the dark depths of your home. Your body halted at the silhouette of a man drifting in the salty water above you. He seemed lifeless as blood streamed from his eye in a disturbing dance.

Another victim of war perhaps?

You swam above him, turning to get a better look of his features. The unharmed eye of his was closed, undoubtedly weighted by the water surrounding him. Body hovering over his own, enthralled in seeing a human man for the first time, you surrendered to the stillness of the ocean. Your eyes danced around his body, since this was your first time seeing a human up close, you were naturally curious. Not feeling your body move, you felt your webbed hand becoming drawn to his face. What does human skin feel like? You pondered.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a sharp kick to the jaw made your body thrash from his body. The man, who turned out to be very much alive, was fighting against the cold water. Testing the damage, you moved your bruised jaw around as he tried to swim away from you. The man hardly covered any distance and you watched as his movements started to dull.

Oh.

Oh!

Remembering that humans live above water, they must need air! Your tail thrashed against the water, propelling you past him. The man’s body fought against your grip as you swam as fast as you could to the surface. Despite his flailing, you sensed his life diminishing as he’d been without air for a dangerous amount of time.

After a final thrash of your tail, you had breached the surface. Rain splattered against your skin and your gills closed at the contact of air. Your grip under the man’s arms tightened and you hoisted his body so his face had emerged from the water. His unharmed eye was intense, staring into your own. You had no idea if his lungs was registering air, but his gaze weakening confirmed that something was wrong.

Quickly, you recalled a few sea stacks near the coast of Zaun which a sea cave resided in. The time that it took for you to race there must have been record-breaking, but that wasn’t what you were concerned about. What concerned you was the man’s skin now starting to pale.

His body was difficult to push onto the shore of the cave, his clothes catching the sand of the cave. But with one final push, his body was completely out of the water. Now it was time for you to figure out how to tend to him without drying out. The position your body found itself in was also awkward, your tail looped and winded into the water while your stomach was laid flat against the sand. You’d never been on land before, and the consequences were unknown. But finally you had something to break you out of your normal routine, and you’d be damned if you had to return to eating crabs in the depths.

Time was being lost, so you crawled with your front arms to reach his body. Suddenly, once your tail lost contact with the foamy water, you felt the air dry your tail. It was a strange feeling, as you watched the grey scales of your tail recede into what now look like human legs. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself not to get distracted.

You never walked on human legs before so you crawled to meet his face, which still proved to feel very unnatural. Your ear met his chest, just above where his heart should be.

Quiet.

He was dead.

Your fascination with humankind cost this man’s life. If only you weren’t so easily distracted. “Why am I like this?” You whispered to yourself as you watched his skin dull in pigment, the life finally leaving his body. A stinging sensation made your eyes burn, wiping them you found that they were wet. You had heard of tears before but assumed that only humans could produce such a strange liquid. The strange feeling continued until tears streamed down your cheeks, light twinkling in them. You watched as some fell onto the man’s face, but were perplexed when they suddenly absorbed into his pale skin.

When a few more tears fell onto his cheek, your hand reached out to smear the wet against his skin. It was the sudden movement of his chest that startled you. His eye was still closed when water forced its way out of his mouth as he began to violently cough. Spooked, you quickly found shelter in the water, your tail returning and making contact with the water.

Your head barely broke the water as you watched the man from the shore. He was still retching the salt water onto the beach, his body’s desperate attempt to empty out his lungs. Interest captivated you as your eyes followed his hand, slicking back his soaked black hair. It was mid length and had bits of seaweed tangled within it. The man’s hand hovering over his injured eye made you notice that the fresh wound had completely disappeared. Granted, there were still large slashes passing through his eye, but they looked healed.

Your mind had drifted off again, this time to the peculiarity of his injury miraculously healing, to notice that the man had spotted you.

The glint of a dagger shined in your eyes. You were still a bit off shore, just enough to allow your top half to be pressed against the sand, your back beneath the water, only leaving your face visible.

The man’s intense gaze returned as he clutched the dagger, pointing it intently at you. The slit pupils of your eyes studied his face. He was a beautiful example of his species. He had a pointed chin, and sharp cheekbones framing his thin face. It wasn’t the way his lips curled into a scowl, or the way his wet locks stuck to his face, that intrigued you the most.

No.

It was his eyes. They were stunning. You were sure you’d seen the color of his unharmed eye before in the ocean but couldn’t quite place it.

The words blurted through your sharp triangle-shaped teeth. “Seashell.”

Dagger lowering slightly, the man was caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?” An eyebrow raised as your head emerged slightly from the water.

Excitement washed over you. “I just now remembered where I’ve seen your eye color before!” You say proudly. The man didn’t look at all impressed, more like he was bored. Your eyes locked as you slowly descended back into the water. “Stay. Right. There.”

With a flick of your tail, you turned around and rushed out of the shore. You were quick to scour the reefs that lined the shore. They weren’t as active and diverse as the ones near Piltover, but you knew they had what you were looking for. A shell, that was blue-green in color, caught your eye. “Gotcha!” Your words were muffled as you were well under water.

To your surprise, the man was still there. This time, though, he had torn a piece of fabric from his shirt to cover his eye in a make-shift eye patch.

The seafoam green shell clicked against the back of the man’s head, startling him. “Sorry!” You apologized from the safety in the water. Apparently throwing was not a skill of yours.

His eye scrutinized the seashell that he caught in his palms. You watched him from the safety of the cave’s mouth as his lips parted. Before he could say anything, a large gurgle coming from his stomach interrupted him. Your lips curled in a smile, knowing exactly how to help. Though the man didn’t seem to appreciate the toothy smile, he stayed put when all he could see was your tail smacking against the surface.

Since the organisms on the menu for you were usually crustaceans and seaweed, you did know how to kill a fish or two. So when you found a fish, catching it within your jaws was like second nature.

Your body curled sideways, following the movement from your large tail as you made your way back to the sea cave.

“Food.” Your words were barely comprehensible as your voice was muffled by the fish in your mouth.

This time, the man was occupied with building a pile of driftwood. It was clear that he didn’t know how to label you. For all he knew, you could've just been a strange woman who saved him just to rob him. His eye was heavy with exhaustion as it watched tentatively while he made his way to where you were.

Your bottom half was still submerged under water, while your chest was barely covered by the foamy surface. This fish laid limp in your jaws as you watched him slowly approach.

His thin lips parted as he made to reach for the fish. “Who are-” You raised your body off the sand, to make it easier to reach but in doing so your top half was now completely exposed.”Naked!” The man hopped backwards, startled. Not knowing where to look, his eye darted all over the cave, so he could look anywhere but your body.

Your lips formed a frown. “Naked?” You looked down to your chest. Yes, you did indeed possess human breasts but human males can be seen without wearing any kind of clothing on their chests on ships, why was this any different? Shaking your head, you laughed. “You’re mistaken. For one to be naked they have to have the need to wear clothes.” Water trickled from your tail as you lifted it out of the water. “I don’t wear such.”

Stumbling backwards, the man fell onto his arse as he snarled. “Stay away from me!” His movements were sharp and quick as he tried to put as much distance between him and you as possible.

The fish dropped from your jaws as he started to kick sand at your body as a threat. Startling from the intimidation, you swerved backwards into the water. You knew humans were…delicate with their emotions as well as how they perceived unusual events.

Though this did rub you the wrong way, making you feel a little hurt due to the sand now stinging your skin. But you knew one thing about humans…

They loved to eat.

-

Silco’s POV:

Body aching, Silco finally amassed enough wood for a proper fire to ensure he doesn't freeze to death tonight. His good eye kept glancing over at the mouth of the sea cave where the creature was once laying.

His teeth gritted. ‘What the hell was happening?’ Today had happened too fast. His lungs still clogged with ash from one of Piltover’s warships. Skin burned in patches around his body where the cannon balls struck the ship, causing the wood to splinter into any skin that wasn’t covered by fabric.

Vander.

Silco felt his throat tighten at the memory. Arms grabbed my throat, holding my body in the air.

His jagged teeth gritted as he recounted how his friend, comrade and…brother, discarded him in the sea like old ale.

Skin splitting under his dagger, stabbing through his eye before flinging his wounded body into the sea.

A yawn escaped Silco’s dry mouth as he tried to fight the feeling of sleepiness taking over. He knew he had to stay strong, to not fall asleep. There are monsters in these waters, after all. But the fire he had just lit and was now huddled near was all too enticing…

Sun penetrated through his eyelid while an odd smell crept its way to his nose. Silco woke up to see the sunrise making the large stack of fish next to him glow.

And he could of sworn that he saw that creature again, diving back into the sea.

[annievrse]

hold tight!

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: franky's version of the waver from skypiea has everyone excited!!! w/c: 2.2k a/n: happy holidays! this is real this happened to me two days ago on a jetski, so i had to make it zoro because its better to write fanfic about characters than daydream about the impossible irl

The entrance to the new island is a dramatic sight—towering cliffs rise on either side, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like the spines of some ancient beast. The narrow passage between them is barely wide enough for a small boat, let alone the Thousand Sunny. The dark, churning waters below them add to the sense of foreboding, and the cliffs almost close in on themselves as if daring anyone to enter. Thick vines hang from the rocks, draping down like curtains of green, and the air smells of salt and earth.

To combat the problem of the Sunny being unable to pass through the cliffs, Franky, always ready to rise to the occasion, introduces his latest invention with his trademark flair. With a wide grin, he steps forward and announces the arrival of the seated Waver, a new addition to the Sunny's ever-growing transport arsenal.

When Luffy complained about the old Waver from Skypiea being annoying and having nowhere to sit, Franky took it as a personal challenge. He wasted no time designing something to solve the problem and impress his captain.

The result is a sleek, streamlined Waver with a comfortable seat, sturdy grips, and the perfect balance of speed and stability—a far cry from the old, seatless model. It’s built for comfort and thrill, and it’s clear from the first test ride that Franky’s creation is a hit.

With his usual enthusiasm, Luffy grabs the handlebars from the Sunny's figurehead and practically flings himself onto the Waver.

“My turn!” His infectious excitement fills the air, and before anyone can stop him, he revs the engine, sending water spraying behind him like a wild stallion kicking up dust.

“Careful!” Nami scolds from where she sits on a second one. “Do you want to fall in?”

Luffy just laughs, his signature grin lighting up his face. The Waver is far easier to handle than the old seatless ones from Skypiea, and Luffy’s thrilled with how quickly he’s mastering it.

You lean against the bow, watching the scene unfold, with Robin standing quietly beside you.

“Do you think they’re safe?” You ask her, eyes flicking toward the speeding Luffy. Robin tilts her head, her expression unreadable.

“Franky seems confident,” She replies with a slight shrug.

“Hey!" Nami yells your name. "You joining us or what?”

You glance back at Robin, who gives you a soft, knowing smile. "I'll be fine, go."

You nod and turn toward the sea to find the rest of your crew.

Franky operates a third Waver with Chopper and Brook, and somehow, Sanji ends up on the second with Luffy, his fists white with how hard he's holding onto the seat.

The ladder dangles over the side of the Sunny and into the water, and you look at it with apprehension. Taking a deep breath, you climb over the edge and carefully slip your foot onto the first rope.

The sea breeze hits your face as you reach the bottom of the ladder, the water shimmering under the bright sun. Nami zips before you, her hands firmly gripping the controls and her fiery expression unmistakable.

You jump in the water and swim over to the back of the Waver, climbing aboard and shuffling to sit behind Nami.

“Come on, hurry up!” Luffy shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the water. Sanji winces and squeezes his eyes shut as Luffy hits a wave. “It’s awesome!”

“Ready?” Nami asks, drawing your attention back to her. But before you can answer, you hear a familiar grunt behind you.

“Oi, wait up. I’m not getting on one with the cook," Zoro yells, deep and reluctant.

"Get on this one then," Nami rolls her eyes, not bothering to look back at the swordsman.

You turn to see him standing on the last rope of the ladder, clearly not thrilled by the idea of riding one of Franky’s new contraptions. But true to his word, he’s already swimming toward you. His eyes narrow slightly as he hauls himself out of the water and onto the Waver, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“Zoro,” You start, raising an eyebrow. “You really want to ride with us?”

He grunts with his usual grumpy expression in place.

“I'm not getting on with the cook," He repeats, disgust painting his features. His gaze lingers on your face, though, and then he looks away.

You laugh. “Fine, but you’re sitting behind me."

Zoro's expression darkens, and he mutters something under his breath.

"Hurry up," Nami snaps. "Luffy's almost there."

With that, he awkwardly steps behind you, leaning slightly against your back as he settles into place, his hands gripping the sides of the Waver. You can feel the nervousness radiating from him, his posture stiff as he adjusts to the unspoken closeness.

His leg muscles press against yours, and the five-inch inseam shorts he chose to wear does nothing to stop the heat rising to your face.

Nami, noticing the restlessness building between you two, grins cheekily.

“Aw, look at this,” She teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “Zoro, you’re gonna sit right there?"

Zoro stiffens behind you, his grip on the Waver's sides tightening.

“Shut it, witch,” He growls. "Where else am I gonna sit?"

She glances over her shoulder at Zoro and winks. “You two look like you’re having fun together. How’s the view from back there, Zoro? I bet you’re really enjoying yourself.”

You feel Zoro’s body go taut with irritation, but before he can snap back, Nami revs the engine, the Waver surging forward and pulling you into motion. His thighs press more firmly against yours with the movement, the sudden closeness sparking a familiar feeling in your chest.

“Hold on!” Nami calls out, laughing as she steers the Waver expertly through the waves.

The wind whips past you as Nami expertly maneuvers, the thrill of the ride and Zoro's breath in your ear quickening your heartbeat. The ocean spray hits your face, and the waves beneath you shift unpredictably, sending the Waver swerving.

Suddenly, you hit a particularly rough patch, and the Waver tilts sharply, throwing you off balance. You instinctively reach for the Navigator before you, but your hands slip off her wet shoulders.

For a split second, the surface of the Waver is disappearing under you—you’re going to fall in.

You yelp, your body leaning dangerously to one side as the Waver tilts further, the sharp spray of seawater splashing into your face. You can feel yourself losing traction, your heart racing as you flail to stay steady.

And then, in a flash, you feel a strong hand grip your waist, yanking you back toward the centre of the Waver.

The warmth of his hand on your waist is immediate and intense, his fingers digging into your sides to steady you as his other arm wraps around you to pull you upright. For a moment, it feels like everything has frozen, the world narrowing to the feeling of his hands on you, your back pressed into his chest. The movement of the Waver makes it hard to focus, but you can feel Zoro’s presence behind you—his body tensed, his breath sharp against your ear as he fights to keep both of you from falling.

“Gotcha,” Zoro growls, his voice low but steady, his hand holding you firm. "Easy."

You instinctively grip his forearm for support, your heart thudding louder. The contact feels uncomfortably intimate, but the shock of nearly falling off the Waver keeps you from dwelling on it for too long.

As the watercraft straightens out, your exhale is shaky, and your heart is still racing.

"Everyone okay?" Nami yells over the waves. You nod, though she can't see.

“I mean, it's nice to know that Zoro's got your back—literally,” She says, her tone playful but laced with that unmistakable edge of teasing. “Don’t let him get too comfortable, though, or he might not want to let go.”

Zoro doesn’t remove his hand from you despite Nami's taunts. His fingers linger at your waist, his grasp firm. You can feel the apprehension in his body—he’s not letting go until he’s sure you’re steady. You’re acutely aware of how close you are to him, the heat of his body at your back, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, his thighs pressed devastatingly hard against yours.

"Thanks," You whisper, patting his arm. Zoro retracts his hand and returns to holding onto the Waver. He mutters something unintelligible, his face flushing, but his body stays rigid behind you.

The island looms ever closer, and as you draw near the jagged cliffs that line the entrance, the air seems to thicken with anticipation, the excitement of finally reaching this new land mingling with the salty tang of the sea.

Nami expertly steers the Waver towards a narrow rock formation near the shore, already slowing to a stop. You can feel the anxiety of the ride dissipate, though the awkwardness of the previous moments between you and Zoro still hangs in the air. You prepare to jump off, the icy water enticing you.

You start to slide off the Waver, but as your foot lands on the rocky shore, a sudden surge in the water throws you off balance. Before you can react, Zoro’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you back toward him with surprising force.

“Careful,” He says gruffly, his hand on your waist again.

You glance up at him, surprised by his reflexes.

Zoro, looking as stoic as ever, just gives a small grunt. “You were gonna fall. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But his hands don’t immediately leave you. He’s still steadying you, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes. You can feel Zoro's hot breath on your neck and goosebumps rise on your skin despite the hot sun beating down on you.

Nami, already dismounted with practised ease, glances back over her shoulder, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “Zoro, you’re really good at catching people today, huh?”

Zoro shoots her an irritated look but doesn't say anything, his grasp on you finally loosening.

"Thanks," You say again, your voice softer than intended. Your fingers brush his, and he grunts in response, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Don’t mention it. Just don’t fall next time.”

You giggle, hand swatting his bicep. "I wasn’t planning on it."

"C'mon!" Nami laughs, ignoring you and Zoro.

You follow her up onto the rocky shore, casting one last glance at Zoro. Despite his gruff exterior, there's something about how he held you that lingers, something warm and steady.

“Luffy! Slow down!” Sanji yells, his voice tinged with genuine panic. You turn back to the ocean.

Nami chuckles at the sight, standing beside you on the rocky shore, arms crossed with a knowing smirk. “Sanji’s gonna have a heart attack if Luffy keeps this up."

You watch Luffy, grinning ear-to-ear, utterly oblivious to the disaster he's creating.

“This is awesome!” Luffy shouts, steering the Waver even harder as if trying to defy gravity. His excitement is infectious, but it's clear to everyone except him that he's about two seconds away from crashing.

“Luffy, we’re gonna sink!”

“We're fine, Sanji! Don’t be such a baby!” Your captain's voice rings back over the waves, carefree and completely unfazed.

Zoro’s eyes follow the scene for a moment longer, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He uncrosses his arms and steps closer to you and Nami, his movements easy and relaxed.

“Luffy’s gonna be Luffy,” Zoro says, the irritation in his tone softened by something almost resembling fondness.

You look at him, noticing the shift in his expression. The awkwardness from earlier, the lingering, unspoken tension between you, is nowhere to be found. It’s like that invisible wall has crumbled without you needing to speak.

Nami, still grinning from ear to ear, turns to Zoro with a smirk.

“You're not worried?” She teases, her eyes glinting with mischief.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at her. “If I were worried every time Luffy did something stupid, I’d be dead by now.”

You chuckle softly, the sound of it carrying in the open air. "Aren't you glad you got on our Waver and not his?"

He glances at you with that typical deadpan expression, but there’s a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes—maybe humour, maybe something else. But when his gaze drifts down your body, you feel your face heat up again.

“Tch, what do you think?” Zoro mutters, but there's a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

You nudge his shoulder, an easy laugh falling from your lips.

Maybe the island ahead is full of surprises, but for now, standing next to Zoro—his presence beside you, the crew doing what they do best—you feel like everything's exactly where it’s supposed to be.

Even if Luffy's about to take out half the coastline.

[ostendird-oddie]

Look guys, I do not care about chainshipping age gap. That twink is dead and he'd die in every conceivable universe. What i DO care about are the implications of it. Canonically speaking they ain't in love (srry). But like. Larry has a trach record of being a grade a manipulative bitch. And a petty one at that. I don't care about his midlife crisis, he attempted to sleep with his STUDENT. I don't care that Carla is a legal adult, it's a significant pover imbalance and she does look quite uncomfortable when he gets into the hotel room. He throws Lynn under the bus over shit he could've done himself. He recruits two collage dropout teenagers to go help him commit murder. I wish we could've gone with the og idea of 3D where Larry organises the game. He's a miserable seething incel who cheats on his wife with a girl who's barely an adult in what universe do y'all find him badass 😭

I love the character but y'all are sugarcoating a manfailure that backstabbed pretty much everyone in his life. He can be terrible AND complex. Maybe i haven't seen enough portrayals of him but like. I mostly see golden lab uwu baby boy Larry or scary hillbilly cult leader who swims in pussy Larry. Someone please portray dr Whoredon as the pathetic desperate sopping wet creep he is. Let your poor little meow meow manchild do crimes.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Contronyms

Contronym

A word that has two meanings that are opposite or nearly opposite.

Example: Left means both “leave” (two people had left) and “remain” (How many people are left?), which are antonyms.

An antonym is a word that is opposite in meaning to another.

Contronyms are also known as Janus words.

Janus was an ancient Roman god with two faces that looked in opposite directions.

Another term for these words is auto-antonym, or a word that means the opposite of itself.

Technical terms for this phenomenon are enantiosemy, enantionymy, or antilogy.

Examples of Contronyms

Cleave

Comes from two different Old English words, clēofan and cleofian, which is how it got these two opposite meanings.

Cleave: to split, to separate (Owen swung the axe down hard in order to cleave the log into two even pieces.)

Cleave: to adhere closely, to stick (Young beaver pups cleave to their mother in the water until they are strong enough to swim on their own.)

Dust

When used as a verb, is a contronym.

Dust: to wipe the dust from (Every Saturday, he would dust the nicknacks on the bookshelves to keep them clean.)

Dust: to sprinkle with a powder or dust (The baker liked to dust their pumpkin bread with just a sprinkle of cinnamon.)

Overlook

Overlook: to fail to notice, perceive, or consider (I hadn’t finished the last two homework questions, but I hoped my teacher would overlook it and give me full marks anyway.)

Overlook: to look after, oversee, or supervise (The manager was required to personally overlook the transfer of valuable materials every evening.)

Sanction

Sanction: to authorize, approve, or allow (My parents wouldn’t sanction video games in our home because they thought they were too violent.)

Sanction: to penalize (The school said they were going to sanction the students for arriving late to class.)

Weather

The word weather is a contronym, but only when used as a verb.

Weather: to expose to the weather, to disintegrate (The paint on the house was chipped and weathered from the decades of rain and snow.)

Weather: to endure (We weren’t sure that we would be able to weather the storm if we didn’t find shelter.)

Back Up

Back up: to support (Ultimately, the scientists were unable to back up their claims with hard evidence.)

Back up: to retreat (The zebras backed up when they spotted the alligators in the water.)

Fine

The adjective fine has the potential to lead to some real misunderstandings about just how excellent (or not) something is.

Fine: of superior or best quality (To prepare for the Queen’s visit, the household staff cleaned the fine linens and polished the best silver.)

Fine (informal): satisfactorily, acceptably (Sandra thought her performance was fine, but nothing special, so she was surprised when she won second place.)

Original

The adjective original is an example of a contronym.

Original: belonging to the beginning of something (Despite being hundreds of years old, the painting was still in its original frame.)

Original: new, fresh, inventive (While sitting in the bathtub, the inventor was struck with an original idea.)

Pitted

The contronym pitted often causes confusion at the grocery store.

Pitted: having pits; in the sense of “mark or indent” (The sailor’s face was pitted and craggy from the wind and salt water.)

Pitted: having the pit removed; in the sense of “stone of a fruit” (My mom reminded me to buy the pitted cherries, because she didn’t want to take out the stones herself.)

Bound

Bound is an example of a contronym that has two different meanings because it actually has two different etymologies. The first meaning comes from the Old English bindan. The second meaning comes from the Old Norse būinn, “to get ready.”

Bound: tied, fastened or secured with a band or bond (The Mountie rushed to save the woman who was bound to the railroad tracks.)

Bound: going or intending to go, destined [for] (With all of their talents, the band was bound to be a success.)

Source ⚜ More: Basics & Refreshers ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[midnight-mourning]

Winter's Chill

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 15❄️❄️

Never written a mer fic before, it was a lot of fun! I see why people enjoy the concept so much ^_^ anywho, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: How exciting! I think it would be fun to have mer snuggles to stave off the cold. Maybe yn is a handler in a aquarium and the dca's favorite human, or maybe yn's a mer, or maybe yn lives by the seaside and yn's they're favorite human. Maybe yn and dca can exchange cold weather traditions/favorite things to do. Being coiled in either of their tails just sounds very warm and snuggly : D

Word Count: 1881

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The breeze blows heavily around you, cutting against the skin of your cheeks with the salt it holds. The sand is cold between your toes as you walk across the shore. It's not cold enough for the water to freeze, but it does send a shiver down your spine as it tickles your toes. It wets the bottom of your pants, but you're too distracted to care right this moment, you'll worry about it after you go back inside. 

Staring out into the surf, you don't see any sign of them, but you don't let that worry you. You imagine with the cold weather they're probably holed up in their caves, staying warm. Like you should be doing yourself, but given the sudden turn in the temps you'd thought you'd at least get eyes on them yourself. 

Additionally, you'd been talking excitedly the past few weeks about each other's cultures and traditions when it came to the winter months. 

The very idea of mers was new to you, but that didn't make them any less fascinating to you. Rather, you were incredibly curious both of the two that had stumbled into your life all those months and of their culture. Much like how they were intrigued by you and the human world. 

Recently you'd been comparing how mers celebrated the change in the seasons versus humans. While you gave gifts and spent time with others, mers apparently had large feasts and parties, followed by periods of long hibernation all together. Waking up every so often to do it all over again. 

The idea of not seeing either of the pair for weeks at a time did disappoint you, despite their assurances that they wouldn't be participating like they usually did this year. You weren't going to keep them from their traditions, just like how they wouldn't ask that of you. 

Still, you'd been hoping to see them at least one more time before they're first hibernation. You shift the gifts in your hands, and adjust the basket on your arm as you scan the horizon one last time. Nothing but brown-grey sea and sky stares back at you. 

With a sigh, you turn around and head back to shore, the wood of your dock damp and cold under your feet. 

About halfway back, you hear a whistle off to your right. 

Twisting, you see a yellow, finned head poking out of the water, around where the shore turns. It peeks out further, revealing a grin of sharp teeth. You return the smile in earnest

Sun chirps, waving at you quickly. 

You shift your presents to one hand and raise your now free one to wave back. 

He makes a beckoning motion and you send back a thumbs up, understanding. He tilts his head a moment, then does the same. 

Doing your best to not slip, you hurry back down the dock and across the beach, rounding the edge where the cliffs start to grow large and rocky. A bit more traveling and you make it down to the stretch where the cave your mer friends call home is. And after a bit more maneuvering and the likes, you head inside. 

When you get there, you see Moon lazily resting on a rock that's partly in the water. He waves a clawed hand to you before resting it back on his stomach, eyes closing. Soon enough, Sun bursts up in the middle of the water, sending waves throughout the pool and disturbing the other mer. 

"Hello friend!" Sun exclaims swimming over to the edge where you stand. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too, Sunny. I was worried I missed you guys."

Moon tsks. "We told you we won't be hibernating this year. Just,"—he yawns—"'Sleeping in' later, as you call it."

"And I told you, that you don't need to change your routine for me. Which is why we're going to have some fun now, and then you’re free to sleep contently for as long as you like." You start setting things down on a rock, scanning for a good location to set up. 

They both watch you intently, seeming incredibly curious as to what you're up to. 

Sun catches on quick. "Oh! Is this that holiday you told us about? Chr-Chrislist?"

"I think it's pronounced 'Christmouse'." Moon quips. 

You laugh, pulling out your picnic blanket and setting it down on the relatively decently sized flat spot near the backside of the cave but still on the water's edge. "Christmas, guys. And yes, that's exactly what we're doing."

Among the things in your basket is a large thermos of hot chocolate, several large raw fish, a few sandwiches and a bag of chips for you—though if they get their hands on it they may fight over it—and a multitude of blankets. 

While again, you knew worrying about them was unnecessary, you figured that any extra help they could have would be good.

Once you're all set up, you turn around, clapping your hands excitedly. "Alright, let's get started—hey!"

Both mers look up from picking at their presents. Then, before you can protest, break out in feral grins hands slinking forward to snatch the gifts up entirely. 

"Don't you dare." You warn. "We're eating, then we'll open presents."

The two share a look, and before you know it, your feet are flying across the smooth rock to try and stop them. Right as they snatch up the gifts and swim back is when you reach the water's edge. But, you'd miscalculated the distance and realize you're running straight into the water. You try to course correct and stop, but it's too late. You slip and fall into the water. 

It's not as cold as the ocean outside. In fact, it's significantly warmer. But still, it's quite a shock to you. You're pulled to the surface by two pairs of strong arms. You gasp when you do, taking a few deep breaths. Taking a moment you realize the air is filled with worried chirps and clips and you have to fight a moment to get them to let you go and strop fretting. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay. It just shocked me is all." You say, laughing slightly. 

They're both pouting as you shoo them away, taking a moment to bob in the water and collect your thoughts. 

After another moment or so, you move back to the shore, pulling yourself out and sitting on the edge, feet still in the water. 

You shake your head, water going everywhere. With a sigh, you start wringing out your clothes. At least they were excited about their presents. 

"We're sorry, Sunshine..." Sun's head is hung low, fiddling with his hands as he just barely peeks out of the water. 

Moon's gone over to his corner to sulk himself. They're downturned attitudes make you chuckle, which perks them up slightly. 

Water pours from your jacket as you twist it tight. "It's okay. Not your fault I'm a klutz. Completely on me."

You're lucky you didn't have anything valuable in your pockets, this would be much worse if that was the case. You make the call to remove your shirt, not able to stand the half damp feeling more than you have to. 

You don't notice the wide eyed stares they both have as you stand up and walk over to fling your clothes over a rock, hoping they'll dry quick but doubtful of such. You remove your pants as well and turn back around again. 

"Well, you guys can go ahead and open them I guess..." You trail off, noticing how they're both just staring at you. "What—oh come on! It's the same as a swimsuit, don't make this weird for me." You skin burns and now you're avoiding direct eye contact. 

You go over and snatch up one of your blankets wrapping it around you. 

"There! Is that better?" You shiver then, the cold finally starting to seep in after the initial surprise and embarrassment have worn off. 

At this, they go high alert. You sit down on the blanket, grabbing one of your sandwiches and taking a bite. "Unbelievable, acting like I'm a Victorian woman showing ankle, nothing you haven't seen before."

There's a splash and you look up, seeing them both hovering above you now. Sometimes you forget how big they are since you're usually looking down at them, instead. 

"Go on, I caught that fresh yesterday morning." You nod to the pile of fish. 

They don't move, and you frown, slowly taking another bite of your sandwich. Another chill runs through you and you use your free hand to bring the blanket closer to your body. 

"You're cold." Moon states. 

You reach for your chips. "A little, I'll live."

Sun's hand wraps around your wrist. "You're freezing, Starlight. You land folk have terrible heat regulation." A cheeky smile appears on his face, eyes narrow. "And that simply won't do."

You make a grabby hand for your chips. You open your mouth to say something, but you're suddenly picked up in a flurry of blue and yellow. 

The first thing you notice is that you go from feeling mildly cold too much, much warmer. The second you notice is a, slightly intense, feeling of being squeezed. 

"Too tight." You managed to get out. 

There's a slight shift and you can breathe again. You find that both Sun and Moon have wrapped themselves around you, resulting in essentially a cuddle puddle of their tails and arms around you. And you will admit, it's actually quite cozy.

The parts of your skin not covered by your blanket or underwear are met with smooth scales that generate a rather large amount of heat. And if you weren't still very hungry, you'd probably have fallen asleep. 

"This is lovely, but can I have use of my arms please?" You ask after a minute or two. 

Sun's shakes his head against your neck, where it's buried. For good measure, he kisses the spot once, twice and snuggles closer. 

Moon's words vibrate against the top of your head, where his chin rests. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

"But I'm hungry." You whine. "Arguably, I'm more hungry than I am cold. Besides, there's a big herring in that pile of fish that'll surely go to waste if you don’t—"

"Mine!" Sun hisses, quickly shifting to snatch it up. 

You laugh as Moon growls at his actions, starting to argue over it with the sunny mer. You take the opportunity to reach back and grab your abandoned food, sitting contently as they fight over their food. You think that's fair pay back after your little mishap earlier. 

No matter what though, they keep their tails tangled around you, keeping you cozy and warm as they dig in to their own meals. Almost like a fishy weighted blanket. An odd concept, but a welcome one.

This certainly wasn't how you were expecting this day to go, but you'll have no complaints if this is how you stay for the next several hours. 

Given how wet your clothes were, and how intent your two mers are at keeping you close, you think it'll be at least that long before you go anywhere. 

And that's just fine.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the lovely request @rosescarletful!! This was super fun to write and I agree, it DOES sound super warm and snuggly, hope I captured the feeling properly :)

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[brittle-doughie]

This isn’t a request, just some lore ideas for a Whitebeard Y/N.

also the design is from @hugemilkshake

Whitebeard Y/N was known for not only having one of the most powerful and largest fleet of pirates in Earthbread, but also being one of the most kindest pirates out there. Most of the sea was controlled by Y/N, but didn’t enforce any rules for most areas. 

That was evident when they came across Black Pearl cookie. The most dangerous sea creatures in Earthbread and resonated in a the dusk gloom sea.

When the two met, Black Pearl was discussed by Y/N. They reminded her too much of the person that betrayed her and wasn’t having at. However, unlike all the pirates and other boats that came before, Y/N and their fleet were too powerful. Leading her to be captured. 

When she was captured, Y/N had made a deal with Black Pearl. Join their grew, and she’ll be free. She couldn’t have accepted the deal any faster. She thought that if she accepted it, she could take the whole crew with them to the bottom of the sea… oh if she knew what happened next.

After she accepted the deal, Y/N fleet made their way to Sugerberg and dropped her off in a large, secluded lake. Leaving her trapped. Most of the crew didn’t trust her in the slightest, leaving her basically as a prisoner in that lake. All except Y/N.

After a few days Whitebeard Y/N eventually started to talk with Black Pearl. Starting out slowly like asking her what she likes and dislikes. To having some conversations with her. Y/N treated Black Pearl with not only lots or respect, but treated her like she was a friend. Black Pearl was different.

Sense she can’t do much as she could do like before, Black Pearl just listened to what Whitebeard Y/N was saying while making some small talk. She learned that Y/N made sure no one entered the Duskgloom Sea, sea life or not. Which was nice of them to do sense she couldn’t do that anymore. All she could do now is swim around in this lake and make some small talk to Y/N. Who she started to see them different, in a good way.

I think things would start pretty intense, Black Pearl being caught just like how she was long ago is going trigger pretty unpleasant memories.

She’ll always make references alluding to yours and everyone else’s’ demises once she gets out, only entertaining you with a brief chat.

It will take a while before she comes to learn that you mean her no harm or ill will, which can begin the defrosting stage where her resentful feelings start to wake and geunine interest starts to form.

[melliae]

Refraction Railway Line #1 Abnormalities Part 2 (Analysis)

To Forsake One's Self

“A silhouette is observed inside the inflated sack around the chest. -It bears resemblance to a flower, or the central nervous system of a human.” - Meursault, Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

A headless fish. That’s what the Abnormality is. Like, there’s no way of getting it wrong… Yet, how is it possible to swim so lively without a head? It doesn’t make any sense. Without a head, there’s no way someone can live, let alone be so vigorous...

But if we were to truly believe so, we would be sinning of “anachronism”, just like Faust said in Selva Oscura. After all, we are seeing not a physical entity, but a symbolic one.

The head and the brain are some of the most obvious and well-known symbols for the mind, or better said, for the conscious side of the mind. They are the source of your rationality, of all you are aware of, and what most people would say they really are. However, the conscious “self” or Ego is but a part of the whole psyche, its “rational light” extending only so far into the dark realm of nature or the unconscious, and I’ll be damned if Headless Ichthys’ entire design doesn’t hinge on that:

Its arena is an underwater reef. Needless to say, water itself is one of the de facto symbols of the unconscious, with the underwater environment just being the icing on the cake.

It’s also filled with vegetal life, such as seaweed. Due to their upright position, they could be understood as symbols of psychic development, of the differentiating and creative power within the unconscious.

And finally, the fact that Headless Ichthys is, well, a fish goes back to the idea of unconscious contents being symbolized by animal figures due to their primitiveness. Not always, obviously, but considering how the Ichthys has its head cut… Yeah, primitive it is.

And as I explained before with Watchdog, the unconscious mind is anything but quiet. That explains why the Ichthys splashes and swims with so much energy—that’s the complexes, or the “many intelligences” of the unconscious, in action, of which the Ego is simply the most differentiated or developed. However, a problem emerges with this definition, because it’s too similar to Watchdog, the two being some sort of battered consciousness that has receded into the unconscious. Thankfully, Carl Jung is there to help us once more.

“The egg is a germ of life with a lofty symbolical significance. It is not just a cosmogonic symbol—it is also a "philosophical" one. As the former it is the Orphic egg, the world's beginning; as the latter, the philosophical egg of the medieval natural philosophers, the vessel from which, at the end of the opus alchymicum, the homunculus emerges, that is, the Anthropos, the spiritual, inner and complete man, who in Chinese alchemy is called the chen-yen (literally, "perfect man").” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

I already quoted this in my theory-prediction about Faust, but the gist is that the Ego emerges from the unconscious in order to know and realize it(self), to reach a state of inner and outer harmony known simply as the Self, the archetype of psychic wholeness that encompasses all that exists—darkness and light, good and evil, the whole of life. It’s not a surprise, then, that such a psychic potency has left its mark in the many cultures across history, with the alchemical motif mentioned above just being one of many examples; others include the Buddha, Christ and his ichthys, God Himself, plants and flowers like the rose and lotus, square or circular mandalas, the firmament, or even time itself.

How all of this psychoanalytic mumbo-jumbo relates to the Abnormality is more than obvious. From the sac that holds the flower-nervous system hybrid to its very name, all points to the Ichthys not being guided by the chaotic storm of Watchdog but by transcendence itself, the unconscious Self of the world safely guarded within its own “womb”, like a fish enveloped by the dark waters of the sea or the homunculus created within the alchemical alembic. This “flower” or even “intelligence” is Ichthys’ own treasure that it wants to keep apart from people, untouchable and protected.

“Perhaps it can splash around more comfortably without that big sac of blood weighing it down? I ask the Sinners to pop its blood sac, but the fish turns aggressive and advances toward us upon hearing my order.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Pop its sac” option).

… However, there’s something that doesn’t fit with the interpretation above. If the sac and its treasure are so important for the Ichthys, to the point it has abandoned its consciousness, why does it use it to attack? Surely it can’t be healthy for the “self” inside, especially when all the affinities related to those attacks are so negative, like Envy (Pressing Sac) and Wrath (Blood Cannon). Even the more (often than not) positive Lust isn’t exempt from that, since “Clotting” is only used once you fail the mid-combat Event, which explicitly states that its sac is just so bloated with blood that its neck is about to shoot blood. But once more, Jung is here to save us!

“The forest, dark and impenetrable to the eye, like deep water and the sea, is the container of the unknown and the mysterious. It is an appropriate synonym for the unconscious. [...] The mighty old oak is proverbially the king of the forest. Hence it represents a central figure among the contents of the unconscious, possessing personality in the most marked degree. It is the prototype of the self, a symbol of the source and goal of the individuation process. The oak stands for the still unconscious core of the personality, the plant symbolism indicating a state of deep unconsciousness.” - Alchemical Studies.

Look at all the seaweeds and fallen trunks in the arena, all the vegetal life that shies away from growing and emerging into the shining surface, from developing themselves… Headless Ichthys’ “terrarium” is a prison, an unconscious “womb” that doesn’t let its “children” see the light of consciousness, and its sac acts the double so, being an actual womb or “alchemical vessel” within the already maternal waters, a warm place that refuses to set free the Self, the most important “flower” of all. This means the Abnormality is, similar to Sign of Roses and Carmen, a twisted and “demonic” manifestation of the Mother archetype: the devouring Mother that ruins and spoils all possible development to avoid suffering.

“There is no birth of consciousness without pain.” - Development of Personality.

Thus, it’s not surprising why “Clotting” is Lust, for the Ichthys surely must feel more than just relief and pleasure when expelling all the blood that was about to burst its sac. Likewise, the Wrath affinity of “Blood Cannon” and the Body’s increasing resistance to said affinity are rooted in the Abnormality’s reaction upon you trying to damage its precious sac, returning all those “offenses” with the anger and fury proper of a possessive mother. But the more it increases its Wrath, the more it fears pain and despair—its weakness to Gloom, despite how it would normally remain controlled and subdued most of the time (see “Blood Sac” passive).

In contrast, the only natural weakness of the Body corresponds to Lust, and just like in KQE’s case, it likely corresponds to the idea of love—of proper love that correctly nurtures and allows the development of the psyche, in contrast to the desperate need of the Ichthys to keep its self sheltered from harm as seen with Don’s Fluid Sac; maybe that explains why the Legs are resistant to Gluttony (despite the complete lack of said skills). And since I mentioned Don here, I think it’s time to clear a possible misconception that may have arisen.

Headless Ichthys doesn’t have anything to do with actual motherhood.

The meaning of the Abnormality is solely related to the smothering of self-development, the deliberate destruction and suppression of the personal identity in order to, apparently, attain a certain treasure. That’s why both Don and Faust have Fluid Sac, because the two of them suppress(ed) their original identities and psychologies in order to follow the “star” they think (or thought, in the near future) they are. Damn! In Sancho’s case, she literally drank from the Lethe so she could be reborn as someone that was explicitly said to be asleep—she dissolved herself in the waters of the unconscious to forget herself. It’s only after she killed Don Quixote, her father, that she truly awakened as such, as marked with the dawn behind her in one of the last CGs.

Coincidentally, the one who wrote the Logs was Meursault, who explicitly said he killed his own mother… I do wonder what kind of parricide awaits us in Faust’s Canto, as if Hong Lu’s wasn’t enough.

Anyway, as I previously stated, Headless Ichthys’ meaning is essentially the sacrifice of the Self (or your sense of identity, if you will) under the erroneous assumption that you can develop and live as yourself under the motherly heat and blood of the unconscious, safely “swimming in a pond” instead of confronting the world (yes, that’s the meaning behind its Encounter). Needless to say, such a perspective is glaringly wrong, and I think this is expressed through the Envy affinity of “Pressing Sac”, for why would the Fish that doesn’t want to be born be envious of those who did, unless, of course, those feelings don’t come from it but from the entity that carries within itself? It doesn’t help that “Pressing Sac” is the only skill that actually uses the sac to attack, despite how dubious the interpretation sounds.

Now, that pretty much is the end of the Abnormality’s “meat”. That doesn’t mean the rest of the parts and skills don’t have any interesting thing; it’s just that they aren't as rich as the Body and the sac, with simple interpretations such as the weakness to Sloth of the Legs and Tail—it’s a fish; it can’t get stuck or lazy while swimming! Meanwhile, the particular weakness to Wrath of the Legs may be related to the idea of rejecting the hand of one’s “mother”, to use the wrath against the compulsion to remain in the “waters”.

“This image is undoubtedly a primordial one, and there was profound justification for its becoming a symbolical expression of human fate: in the morning of life the son tears himself loose from the mother, from the domestic hearth, to rise through battle to his destined heights. [...] His life is a constant struggle against extinction, a violent yet fleeting deliverance from ever-lurking night.” - Symbols of Transformation.

Life is a struggle itself, a constant coming and going between day and night, good and evil, happiness and suffering—those polarities are what make everything alive and the Self whole. Thus, it’s not surprising the beginning of one’s (true) life is violent too, especially with a “mother” (i.e., longing) such as the Ichthys, with its such a strong and gluttonous grip. Maybe there lies the reason for the Pride affinity of “Powerful Clap”, used solely by the Left Leg, with said side belonging to the Tree of Life’s pillar related to the feminine and thus motherhood. In contrast, the much weaker and gloomier “Clap” is used by the Right Leg, and guess what things are related to that Pillar in the Tree? By that matter, LC used this division for the Sephirot’s gender.

Moving into the Tail… Nope, this part beats me. I can somewhat understand the resistance to Lus, since it could be some sort of contrast between the Tail and the Body (and sac), but I don’t have any idea regarding its only skill. The same applies to what the Fluid Sac status exactly entails, unlike the very obvious Blood Sac… Oh, and beyond the obvious reasoning of the endometrium being very rich in blood during pregnancy, I think it’s quite obvious that blood also doubles as a symbol for instinct and thus primitive psychic energy.

“But water is earthy and tangible, it is also the fluid of the instinct-driven body, blood and the flowing of blood, the odour of the beast, carnality heavy with passion.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

Water, both as blood and the element as such, is the matrix of all life as a whole, that which impulses every being to their “destined height”. However, in this particular case, the vital essence is held up by the devouring parental imago, the “monster of the depths” that paralyzes all individual development and plants the seeds for future disasters.

“Fatigue is one of the most regular symptoms of loss of energy or libido. The entire process represents something very typical, namely the failure to recognize a moment of crucial importance, a motif which we encounter in a great variety of mythical forms.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

That was said in relation to the Muslim story of how Moses met Al-Khidr, more specifically about the part where a fish the prophet and his servant planned to eat escaped. Parallels are more than obvious, with the case of Don, or better said, Sancho—the quiet, cynical, snarky, and extremely loyal child of Don Quixote—being much more interesting than Faust’s, because it tells us a lot about Bloodfiends and even the City and the Head.

It’s quite obvious that from the moment Quixote turned her into a Bloodfiend, all of Sancho’s attention was directed into her new “father”, for her hurt and depressed psyche unconsciously got attached to that infantile conception of security and family—a psychological complex that is best known as the Bloodstream. This means that, in essence, all Bloodfiends have an unconscious but powerful—almost numinous—attachment to their forefathers, filled with reverence, adoration, and fear not unlike those of a kid, hence making it impossible for them to move beyond their infantile psyche that fittingly yearns for things in their grossest, more primitive forms. And just like all the City-dwellers, Quixote, Sancho, and all Bloodfiends desire to feel the vitalizing air and sunlight, the warmth of each other, and to taste and gulp down the forgotten “waters” that nurtured the world itself and from which they have distanced themselves  too much… But water and its blue color are too high and lofty for the stunted psyche of the Bloodfiends; it’s a direct betrayal to the Bloodstream that demands complete subservience to the ancestors, to the (likely equally, if not more stunted) Progenitor, and thus their own souls demand the “waters of life” in the same way it does with their desire for connection.

“That the lapis, or in our case the floating sphere, has a double meaning is clear from the circumstance that it is characterized by two symbolical colours: red means blood and affectivity, the physiological reaction that joins spirit to body, and blue means the spiritual process (mind or nous).” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

This also explains why Dante said Bloodfiends were similar to Distortions, because they both are essentially individual beings consumed and twisted by their own complexes and traumas, just in different ways, which means the City is no different from the Bloodfiends. Be it Fixers, Syndicate members, or Feathers of a Wing, countless organizations and teams have been formed in search of life itself in a land that has forsaken and exiled all the human fantasies, an action done by none other than the ever-watchful and oppressive protector of the nest that the City is.

“Nest: the alchemical vessel. This is the place where the *philosopher’s stone is incubated and generated. A popular symbol for the birth of the Stone is that of the *philosophical bird or chick hatching from the *egg in the nest of the philosophers.” - Dictionary

But where the compulsion of the Bloodstream and Headless Ichthys doesn’t allow people to go beyond their “parents”, the Head has likely styled itself as both the protector and biggest enemy of humanity, the last step that people have to overcome to truly become free—just like Don and Sancho did through Bari’s tales (who happens to be blue, in contrast to the Bloodfiends’ red) and their own adventuring, gaining a new attachment to life beyond what the Bloodstream told them. In fact, Sancho surpassed the Bloodstream’s control to the point she forced herself to drink from the Lethe. But in that, she fell into the same compulsion as before, sinking into the depths of the unconscious with a new “self” that was no different from her previous life: an unconscious child unaware of everything, born of fear.

Thankfully, that wasn’t where Don’s story ended, and she further demonstrated the potential to overcome the Bloodstream and its childish mania through battling her own father without the need of the Helmet of Mambrino. She acquired so many experiences and was filled by them in such a manner that during that last clash she was able to shake off all hesitation and fear to pierce the heart of the source of her life so she could take the reins herself… However, that was only possible due to her naive beginning in the River of Oblivion, washing away all that had happened.

“The sun breaks from the mists of the horizon and climbs to undimmed brightness at the meridian. Once this goal is reached, it sinks down again towards night. This process can be allegorized as a gradual seeping away of the water of life: one has to bend ever deeper to reach the source.” - Symbols of Transformation.

Fundamentally speaking, while the figure of the Mother—and overall family, hence part of the incest taboo according to Jung—is somewhat disagreeable during more or less the first half of one’s life (ignoring childhood, obviously), it’s an indispensable part for the later half, when one’s body becomes rigid and fixated on past achievements instead of coming to terms with the return to the Mother and family, the place of eternal rest. And yes, this is the explanation of why the “splash around together” option in its Encounter heals both HP and SP, and maybe why the Fluid Sac status also heals the Ichthys (though I still don’t have any idea of why the color changes between statuses).

The mother-imago that the Abnormality represents is quite all-encompassing, isn’t it? No matter how hard one tries to fight it, the yearn to give up and be embraced by the watery abyss is always present, and it becomes ultimately a necessity when the consciousness becomes battered and exhausted. That’s the psychological foundation of the many myths, stories, and rituals about rebirth, chief of them the christian baptism and alchemical dissolution (which I already explained). But as always, one can’t loiter there, in that moment of unconscious union with the Mother, unless they get stuck and a psychological disaster befalls them.

Ultimately, the relationship with our family and, above all, our parents is a complex one. This is not even about physical or psychological abuse as such, but about the consequences and impacts they have in our minds. The deficiency of their love, whether it be a lack or excess of it, is one of the heaviest marks possible, and sometimes the fault may not be upon them, but on us—our fears and anxiety that don’t allow us to separate from the psychic impressions of our families and parents.

My Form Empties

“A bell occasionally tolls in the red room. It’s a heavy, subduing sound. The statue is chanting something. You’re unable to recognize its words. But, you feel that whatever it is, is not a joyous thing. There’s a brass ring on the statue’s finger.” - Abnormality Encounter.

Whoever says Buddhism is a simple religion is lying through its teeth. It’s as complicated, if not more so than Christianity, with a rich history and divisions derived from its 2500 years of existence. There’s simply no way for me to explain it shortly and dispel some of the biggest misconceptions around it in such a short post. Nonetheless, I’ll try to make an attempt, because My Form Empties (or MFE and the Bodhisattva for short) really needs it.

Desire is a complex thing. It does drive you to do and accomplish things, yes, but at the same time it fills you with all sorts of expectations and fantasies that do not have any footing in reality. I’m not speaking about such things as equality, kindness, or goodness, but about the fact that desire and obsession can lead you to twist truth itself in order to satisfy itself, to think that some things can or can’t change in order to feel content—not you acting upon your desire, but Lust acting through and possessing you. Thus, it’s not surprising that a lot of old philosophies and even modern ones feel conflicted about it, imposing moral obligations on it or directly forsaking it all together, and chief among them are the dharmic religions that originated in India: Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism.

As the name of the category implies, those 3 religions focus on teaching dharma, which can be broadly understood as the underlying truth of the world and the righteous duties and ways of life derived from it, all in order to extinguish the desires and sufferings that disturb the world, achieving the state known as moksha, or liberation from the fantasies and illusions (maya) born of desire. What this state of freedom entails varies from religion to religion and even from sect to sect, but the main difference resides in that Hinduism and Jainism hold that there’s an eternal and pure self (atman) that experiences the trappings of desire and its illusions, and Buddhism says that the self is those desires and illusions, ergo, that there’s no eternal true self (anatman) but just a constantly shifting awareness born of attachment, and the realization of this and the cessation of attachment and thus of self is called nirvana.

The reason why the dharmic religions are so obsessed with the detachment of desire has to do with diverse theories, but due to the topic at hand, Buddhism holds that desire as a mental factor is the root of all attachment and hence suffering due to the impermanent and non-self nature of the world, and desire is in turn created by ignorance of how the individual self is just a short-lived fragment of the chain of causality or karma. The desire and fear—for they are inexorably connected—over life and death give rise to samsara, or the endless cycle of rebirth, where both the “individual sense of self” (which, again, doesn’t actually exist) and karma perdure, determining the individual and collective future based on the effects of actions and their intention, for the self, desire, and suffering are all equally mental. In other words, as long as you desire, you will suffer and fear; they are one and the same.

Now, it’s obvious why the Karma status has that circular, red shape:

“→ Wait, wait. You forgot that weird ring. (Gregor) → It…gives a strange feeling. I don't know why it comes to us, but when it sticks to the back, it feels...strange. Like a pressure is weighing down on the mind… (Sinclair)” - Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

Circular because circles don’t have a beginning or an end, just like the chain of causality and the endless knots used to represent it. Red because, like the Bloodstream, karma is a mental compulsion that weighs down and traps the mind. And the felt pressure is the suffering and anguish caused by attachment to the perceived self therein.

The passive related to the Karma status, “Cyclical Karma”, is just an extension of everything I’ve described up to this moment: attachment to karma or causality is the main drive behind most, if not all, actions of all sentient beings, which in reality are nothing but reactions to past happenings. All desires, be it for pleasure or vengeance, are rooted in the ignorant and wrongful idea of a constant self that must be satisfied or protected, and thus karma extends to and encroaches all of creation. A fault, after all, must be punished, right? 

By that matter, the passive-caused death when a Sinner reaches 108 Karma is based on the “108 defilements” or sense-states originating from the 6 senses acknowledged by Buddhism (5 senses plus consciousness). Therefore, acquiring 108 Karma means the “mind” of an individual has been overcome with desire and attachment, unable to be rescued by the hands of the Buddha… But wait a minute! That’s not how karma works at all! Besides, why does everyone acquire Karma when MFE does not? Well, to answer that, I need to continue explaining Buddhism's biggest currents: Theravada and Mahayana.

Theravada is the oldest Buddhist school and can be understood as the traditional one since it preserves and follows the “original” teachings of the historic Buddha, Siddharta Gautama; it’s mostly practiced in Southeast Asia, and it has basically died out in its home country of India. For its part, the Mahayana tradition originated as a sect of the Theravada that grew slowly before exploding in China during the 7th or 8th century, where it syncretized with the folk religion and native philosophies of the region before expanding to Korea, Japan, and other nearby countries, where it still remains popular to this day.

These two schools preach more or less the same teachings about attachment and liberation, but they obviously have differences, especially within the Mahayana tradition. In fact, calling Mahayana a “tradition” may be a misnomer, because it’s a collective of hundreds of different schools created by the addition of new philosophies and concepts according to the needs of each country and age. Theravada is not that different, but the division is lesser than in Mahayana’s chaos and madness. Still, if a main difference has to be mentioned, the most important for the analysis is the motivation for becoming an enlightened being (arhat): Theravada posits that one ultimately should strive for reaching nirvana first and foremost, with helping other people being entirely optional, while (most) Mahayana schools preach the “path of the bodhisattva”, that is, vowing oneself to help all sentient beings to attain enlightenment, including oneself. The title of bodhisattva should ring some bells.

“The fake bodhisattva was only biding its time to restore its strength, paying little attention to the confession.” - Mid-Combat Event (Check failure).

That’s to say, MFE is an entity that is committed to help all beings (i.e., the lured enemies) so they can be freed from the eternal cycle of suffering… Or so it appears. Beyond the text (or Dante?) directly calling it a fake bodhisattva, Faust and the game as a whole clearly identify it as a statue or idol of sorts—a murti, or s physical representation of a deity or “saint” created with the sole purpose of being worshipped and prayed upon. This difference is important since it basically defines MFE as a thing or place of worship where anyone can call upon the symbolized bodhisattva for help, and even offer things as a proof of gratitude!

“You place a coin before the grand Buddha Mūrti. With the ceaseless chanting gone, only the hollow echo of the bell bounces off the walls of the chamber. Perhaps the touch of secularity in the face of an emptying form has triggered something.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Place a coin” option).

This hatred for “banal” offerings is also seen in one of its many Wrath skills, “Compulsory Offering”, which is fittingly used only by the Buddha Mūrti part. Needless to say, this behavior is completely unlike that of an actual bodhisattva or compassionate arhat, who would move heaven and earth to help and save sentient beings. Furthermore, while they may not seem to be that useful, offerings are indeed quite helpful; they can help during meditation and the burning of mental “poisons” (such as fear, anger, pride, wrong beliefs, etc.), or simply allow one to express gratitude and gather “good” karma for one’s next life. There’s no reason or need for an actual bodhisattva to be angry, no matter if the offering is a mere coin, unless said person has bias (i.e., wrong beliefs) and thus desires…

By all means, My Form Empties can’t be further away from being an actual bodhisattva, with all of its skills and resistances showing that one way or another. In fact, it’s telling that it doesn’t resist any Sin affinity when another “religious” Abnormality did exactly that (Spiral of Contempt), with the sole exception being Lust, and considering its propensity for anger and retribution, it obviously doesn’t speak about the natural compassion of enlightened beings. What I mean is that, despite how much it chants sutras and mantras to empty itself, the Abnormality remains attached to its own self-love, comparable to Skin Prophet’s, as it attempts to save only itself, as the results of failing the Event’s check say: by brainwashing people, MFE can resolve and impart its own karma into others.

“Empty oneself by verbalizing one’s thoughts. Expel everything within so that nothing remains. That is the statue’s way of forgetting the self. You sense yourself disappearing as well.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Listen Closer” check failure).

The Sinners and Dante weren’t forgetting themselves because the Bodhisattva’s teachings were good; they did so because they were filled by its own actions and intentions. It’s no coincidence that the only way to pass the previous check is through the team having an average SP equal to or greater than 0—mental stability to confront the cultish behavior of MFE and transform them into something useful. The lured enemies, however, weren’t that lucky, and maybe that’s why they were chosen and are constantly healed (their passive’s name, “Bhaishajya”, literally means “medicine”), because they could offer something more than an empty coin thanks to their broken, hurt minds.

Now, I can certainly give a conclusion regarding the Abnormality’s meaning, but I still think there’s some elements of interest that merit some more analyzing, such as the passives or attack patterns :) And besides, I want to yap some more about Buddhism

Beginning with the passives, the most important one to understand is “Nirmana”, whose name comes from one of the Three “Bodies” or Trikaya of Buddha, an important concept of the Mahayana tradition. Basically, it expresses the all-encompassing nature of Buddhahood, which “exists” (to the extent the word can apply) everywhere and everywhen, from the ineffable dharmakaya (“true body”) of the Buddha, which embodies the emptiness inherent to all phenomena, to its nirmanakaya (“manifested body”), which exists as a material projection that grows and dies as it teaches about dharma to sentient beings. This means the Buddha Murti is a creation that can be manifested as many times as the Abnormality wishes, while its true core or essence resides as an actual brain or self within the Stone Seat, because MFE only becomes anatman once the Murti is destroyed—the only thing that remains is the angry and fearful “ground of being”, pure action unbounded by the apparent self.

Really, the most bodhisattva-like thing MFE does is its mental training and focus, or dhyāna, which is a mental disposition during meditation that tries to burn out all mental distractions and poisons in order to detach the mind of the world—to extinguish oneself. It’s no surprise that it can halve all negative statuses when used as a skill, independent of how paradoxical it is that its affinity is Lust, nor that it can grant 10 Protection to each part as a passive… until all of its lured allies are killed and it has to come out from its meditation to protect itself, which makes doubt my original statement.

Moving into the skills and their distribution, I think it’s important to begin with a small description of the Buddha Murti, just for the irony, because beyond the actual Buddhist crown it’s wearing (which is seemingly Tibetan, not Mahayana), it’s doing two particular mudras with its hands: the shuni mudra in the right, and (possibly) the chinmaya mudra in the left.

The shuni mudra, as its name indicates, is related to the idea of sunyata, or the emptiness of all phenomena; it’s believed that doing this hand gesture helps to reach a better, deeper state of patience and equanimity during meditation. The chinmaya mudra is the hand gesture that’s “full of knowledge/awareness”, and from what I understand,  it’s supposed to help with bringing awareness over one’s body and mind.

Now, while I do have some knowledge about Buddhism, I can’t say the same about mudras or yogic traditions, so I’m not sure about my previous descriptions. But if they are true, the two mudras fit with the overall theme of the Abnormality, which is trying to empty its being and body, and also adds to the irony, since the Buddha Murti’s skills are all Wrath-based with 1 exception, “Expound Sutras”, which is Lust and thus may be understood as the only actual good (but not selfless) thing it has done: supporting and motivating its followers through chanting the teachings of dharma. However, this good deed is overshadowed altogether by the other 3 skills:

I already explained “Compulsory Offering”, but I’m repeating it since it complements another Wrath skill, “Sluggard Waker”. The two focus on inflicting Karma based on the Bodhisattva’s judgment, showing once more that it has certain preferences and biases regarding its followers: it wants proactive people that offer their own lives in service to it.

The last one is “Prajñāpāramitā”, named after the Mahayana concept of “perfect wisdom”, the awareness and understanding of reality as it is and without attachment, proper of all realized arhats. The fact that it’s a Wrath skill and it punishes those who have the most Karma clearly shows the title is sarcastic.

It’s also important to note that all of these skills are related to teaching “dharma” to people and “protecting” it in the form of punishing those who have gone astray, akin to how the wrathful or fierce deities act in Mahayana, though that may be how it wants to be perceived and/or disguise its out-of-character moments. At any rate, the nature of the skills fits with the idea of the Murti itself being the nirmanakaya of the Abnormality, a manifestación created with the sole purpose of spreading its teachers to solve the karma of its “dharmakaya”, its true self that resides as a self-aware brain inside the Stone Seat glued to the ground—the least Buddhist and spiritual thing possible.

Anyway, in contrast to the Murti, the Stone Seat uses only Lust skills that are solely focused on it and are mental in nature: “Mahāsrī”, “Svāhā”, and the previously explained “Dhyāna”. If this last skill is the mental state in which the brain inside the Seat is, then the other two are in what it focuses on: “Mahāsrī” is likely based on the Mahāsrī Sutra, which states that one will be granted divine protection and fortune by reciting the 12 names of the goddess Mahāsrī (an epithet of Lakshmi); and “Svāhā” is named after the word used to signal the end of each recited mantra that, in this case, should correspond to the 12 of Mahāsrī, indicating the readiness of the Abnormality to finally take action (i.e., 3 Damage Up). Again, all of this is further proof of the inherent cowardice and self-centeredness of the Abnormality, especially because the Seat only starts to use “Mahāsrī” and “Svāhā” once its “gross body” is destroyed and becomes anatman.

When you get to it, My Form Empties’ entire being seems tempting, no? A bodhisattva-like figure that promises to release you from your pain, that won’t forsake and abandon you midway. Even the mid-combat Event references this, the illusion of a peaceful emptiness that embraces all without exception. Wouldn’t that be sweet? To reach that final blow that puts an end to the flame? But it should be obvious at this point that, just like Glupo and STNOWC, it’s impossible for just one being to carry all those sins. Even arhats like the Buddha didn’t do that, and waited for sentient beings to open up to their teachings instead, for doing otherwise would be a desire, an attachment.

“However, no man can wholly shoulder another’s suffering in their stead. Before we all are allured by its false compassion, someone has to break the statue.” - Mid-Combat Event.

Even when the Buddha found and converted the mass murderer Angulimala, he didn’t force the latter to follow him and waited until Angulimala himself regretted his actions and decided on his own to become a monk. This example is so wholly unlike My Form Empties’ behavior that it could very well be its own terrace on Mount Purgatorio, and hence it perfectly represents the failure itself of the fake Bodhisattva: no matter how much it recites sutras and asks for the help of higher beings, not even the Buddha can save it as long as it holds onto its desires, to the twisted pleasure and release of pushing its red and bloody karma into others. Neither its form nor self will ever become empty, because it’s psychologically bound to it, unlike Angulimala, who quietly and firmly accepted his own lynching, for he became an arhat too, unbounded by and detached from karma.

Furthermore, the EGO coming from MFE just spits into the Abnormality’s self even more, because it’s named after the most famous quote of the entire Mahayana school: “Emptiness is Form”, where “Form” is the ever-shifting self of the phenomena that’s nothing but one moment among the endless transformations within the cycle of causality, happenings, retributions, ignorance, identification, and attachment—the very own poison against which the Bodhisattva fell, and so did Heathcliff and Outis.

“Do I even deserve to speak as humans do? I, who killed Catherine… You, who deprived me of Catherine… Must be a thing lesser than a savage beast. Then… why should I even keep pretending to be human when I am not? If they were right... that if I really were to become nothing more than a howling, savage beast…” - Heathcliff, Chapter 34: The Beast, Canto VI.

“No matter what lurks in the pasts of us Sinners...? Even... if they have killed hundreds, thousands—no, tens of thousands of innocent people? Will you still... embrace them?” - Outis, The Carousel (The Tale of a Great Fixer Who Once Reached for The Dream) , Canto VII.

Those 2 Sinners and the Abnormality all present the same problem that I’ve commented on so much that I’ve become sick of it: attachment to karma and desire that leads to the false belief that there’s a constant self within one’s past and (wrong)doings, which in turn creates one’s future. Some may blindly accept it, thinking of themselves as unable to break the cycle of violence and suffering that has built them, and others may desire to escape it, without understanding that such a thing still is attachment and thus unconscious identification, leading to an ignorant and paradoxical longing for the status of an arhat. But that’s not what Buddhism is at all, for the single realization that actually matters is the same one that Angulimala—killer of children, elderly, women, and men—achieved: karma doesn’t define you, for it constantly changes, and so does the self.

Ultimately, there’s no one and nothing to forgive, for there is no self. You don’t have any obligation to be the same person you were even 1 second ago, for better or worse.

Post-Commentary

...

I'm not doing this kind of extravaganza ever again. I'm not referring to the analyses, of course, but doing these monstrosities back to back with no rest xD And yeah, I knew I said these 2 Abnos were going to be dense, but I didn't think it would be this level of dense... But alas, everything to give a nice Christmas gift!

Anyway, beginning with Headless Ichthys, I know now why it was paired with Watchdog: the two are deeply tied to analytical psychology in some way. But with the focus on the complexes and parental issues, I think it's worth clarifying something with regard to a certain Sinner: Sinclair.

While the underlying meaning behind the Ichthys can apply to our little twink, it's not in the same manner as Don and Faust, for it's not a question if he will hatch or not, but when. The entirety of Canto III expresses his deep drive to act and rise from his “nest”, and all posterior stories show how imperious that necessity is to the point of violence, with the most recent case (Canto VII) being a more than welcome evolution of such an anger. This is the entire reason why Demian is interested in him, why Kromer acquired the form of a vagina dentata (she was a manifestation of the devouring Mother, which yes, it means N Corp. Sinclair is very much like Sancho and Faust, even having the 2 main affinities of Fluid Sac in his kit: Gloom and Lust), and why Sansón chose him to play Bari, the guide and alchemist of Don after the incident of La Manchaland.

Speaking now about the relationship between Bari and Sancho, it’s quite interesting that the two are women when the “night sea journey” and “reaching for the stars” are more often than not masculine narratives (see Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, for example): the masculine Ego separating from the primitive and feminine unconscious symbolized by a wicked woman, dragon, or similar aquatic animals in order to establish himself and the world, to earn a treasure, or even save a damsel. By that matter, this latter duality of womanhood speaks of the differentiation between the Mother archetype and the Anima (in men; it’s the Father archetype and the Animus in women), so to avoid the pitfall of confronting every woman (or man) they met as their mother (or father), which is the likely cause of the subtextual incest in these kinds of stories… which is surprisingly lacking in Sancho’s case too! Kudos to Project Moon here for adapting the overall skeleton of the story and skipping the parts that most would find off-putting, because anyone else would have added them, especially with vampires (they have an undeniable erotic element, whether you like it or not).

Regarding the divagation about the Bloodfiends’ nature, I skipped certain someone that, unlike Don and her still warm-color palette, is completely dressed in blue and very obviously old, wishing to rest once and for all. So while Don is still tied somewhat to the Bloodstream, Sansón has completely broken free from it in true fashion as a bearer of the Mark of Cain, the first parricide. Nonetheless, it is still worth celebrating the two Bloodfiends have freed themselves from the cursed blood “that is thicker than water”.

And finally, I focused mostly on Sancho and the Bloodfiends because we know more about them than about Faust at the moment. But that doesn’t mean the little “witch” doesn’t have her own moments:

“Faust: It is fortunate that someone like yourself is aboard the train. Your presence ensured that child's survival. Sasha: Whatcha talkin' about all of a sudden? C'mon, no need to keep up appearances between people in the same line of work.” - Chapter 20(5): MultiCrack Office, Murder on the Warp Express.

However, there’s a difference between Don/Sancho and Faust: the former’s main colors are yellow and red, of the rising sun and blood, while Faust’s are pink and white, which are softer shadows (well, not really, but bear with me) of Don’s colors. What that implies is beyond me, but they are still a far cry from the blue’s spirituality.

Now, regarding My Form Empties... No, surprisingly I don't have anything else to comment beyond one single thing: what the actual fuck is supposed to be Bloody Gadget? Like, it's not a ring, and instead of being in MFE's right hand, it's actually on the background (or something similar to it, at least. I don't know). I tried to search for similar icons, symbols, and objects, but there was no luck. So if you know, please, feel free to comment what it is.

Oh, and I also didn't comment about the Sin affinities in the MD Encounter just because it's easy to understand: Lust and Gluttony are utilized as symbols for desire in general, and thus a gluttonous and/or lustful individual is blind and deaf enough to ignore whatever MFE tries to do. The world seriously doesn't respect it xD

So with all of this said and done, happy holidays!

[gingerrhd]

Inktober 2024 day 6

Not so much rare pair but definitely falling into rare media to see these days

[genderqueerpond]

finally watching two's era in order completionist style and uh

uh--

they've stolen him away. they've literally stolen him away. they are the fae to him and they've pulled him into another world and told him he can never go home

[confused-spood]

Where else am I gonna rant if not to a group of random strangers that barely know me, right? So ofc I'm gonna rant here cuz these people have no idea who tf I am.

....turns out I have no words to explain how I'm feeling right now so I offer this emoji instead: 😔

[afterartist]

Me: I like all TotK NPCs

This waste of data:

[lemonlurkrr]

lemonlurkrr i saw the new uniqlo and metal gear collab and thought of you. have you seen it what are ur thoughts

COOL 👍 don't think I'll be getting any for myself but 👍👍👍👍👍👍 if I did i'd probably get the msx textbox one, or the one with Two Guys in boxes

[arminsumi]

... hubby!Gojo with a huge breeding kink who just obsesses over you when you're ovulating and can't think about anything else but fucking a baby into your hips.

+ warnings; mdni, breeding kink, some dumbification

+ an; I literally had this idea in my drafts for a year... 😳

Maybe he's got a freaky sixth sense, maybe it's just because he's got heightened senses, or maybe there's some scientific studies to back it up; but Gojo can smell when you're ovulating. And it turns him on — of course it does. He has a bigger breeding kink than you do.

"Oh, you're ovulating." he notes after sniffing your skin... and you do a double take like he's insane. Because he is insane — you married a madman.

He pays closer attention to your cycle than you do, reminding you to mark down when you get your period, and coddling you in the days leading up to ovulation.

"Satoru, it's just an estimation." you tell him, but he's got a glow in his eyes when he sees your period tracker app telling him that today's your most fertile day — if he cums in you today, it's basically guaranteed.

He researches positions that help conception, bends and pushes you into them, and fucks you deep with his thick cock, going harder on your poor hole than he normally does — grunting more than he normally does, throbbing more than he normally does... like it just awakens something primal in him, and now he's obsessively fucking you like he has no other purpose but to breed his sweet little wife.

"Nn! Satoruuu!" you whine and paw at his torso, your walls overwhelmed by the pressure of his cock splitting you open.

"Yes babyyy?" he coos, giving you a crooked, blissed-out smile as he tilts his head.

There's sweat dripping off his abs, his pink nipples are hard, his biceps are twitching, and he's running one hand through his dampened white hair as he stills inside you for a moment.

"'s too deep! T-too big!" you moan lewdly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth.

"...aw, I know I'm just too big for ya, huh?" he coos cockily; hearing you tell him that he's 'too big' never gets old.

He's so determined to give you his baby that he tries everything to increase the chances; staying inside you for 5 minutes after shooting his load in, having you rest with a pillow under your back so your hips are raised — "Gotta help my lil' guys swim." he acts like an idiot about it, but sweetly so. Nothing excites him more than the idea of being a dad, except the idea of fathering your children.

After sex, when the two of you are cleaning up, Satoru feels over and massages your tummy with a small smile on his face. He's lost in thought, hair all messy and face tired like he's run a marathon, hopeful that this time he got you pregnant.

He'll pamper you like his queen, humming and going to the ends of the earth to get you anything you ask for. He really fawns over you when you're ovulating, and lays on the compliments thick while snuggling your neck and creeping his fingers up your thighs — pretty soon he'll sink them inside and stretch you out on them, preparing you for what he cutely calls "baby making" but is actually sweaty, nasty, kinky sex — there's a definite difference in the cute, snuggly sex and the literal breeding sessions no matter how much he plays it off.

"Satoru... my legs are still weak after this morning, give me a break, will you?"

"Aw come on, this is an innocent request... and if babymaking happens, it happens..." he mutters the last part under his breath.

"You're crazy."

But you know you're gonna fall for it after you take one look at his rock-hard, juicy pink, dummy big cock and those breeder balls.

He just beams victoriously when you hop over to him like a little bunny.

Satoru's pushes into you as deep as your pussy allows him, and then some more just to pressure your deepest spot, pinning your wrists down and whispering sultrily into your ear about how well you take him, how beautiful you look, how good it feels to fuck your fertile pussy knowing that he'll most definitely get you pregnant because his cum is perfect; thick and sticky and gooey and pungent, perfect just like he is — the cocky bastard.

When his creampies makes you cum, A-spot pressured with his pulsing tip, he grins so wide that you scold him about it.

"Stop grinning like a psychopath." you pant.

He just looks up at you, face hardly an inch away, and asks a dumb, smiley "D'you feel pregnant?" ... as if it happens so fast.

"Gee, I don't know, we should go again just to make sure — that was a joke, that was a joke! Nn! Satoru!" too late, he's flipping you over and slowly filling you up again.

And oh god Satoru loves sliding back in for round twos. The smell of sex and cum wafting up and hitting his nose just makes him plunge back into your cum-filled little hole with only one thing in mind and that is breeding you 'till you're stuffed to the max.

"Come on, y' gonna be a good wifey for me and get knocked up?" he rasps against your ear, thrusting his cock up into your sensitive spots until his creampies turn into whipped cream, frothed up and milky-white and smeared on your pussy lips.

Like the nasty boy he is (and always has been, even before marriage), Satoru forces your head down and makes you watch him fuck his dummy big cock into you.

"Yeah, watch that cock fill you up... look at all my cum leaking out..." he tuts, "... don't be so wasteful, baby... oh well, 'm gonna fuck it back into you anyways. Come on, let me in deeper — aw, what's wrong?" he coos when you claw at his meaty bicep.

"'toruuu, so deep! Y-you're so fucking deep, I can't think..."

His heart pangs when he hears you complain about being too stuffed, "Oh baby you don't need to think, just lay there and let me put a baby in your sweet pussy — gonna fuck you so dumb, the only name you'll remember is mine."

Of course, he has to get a creampie in every day. Sometimes even a few times a day. Sometimes even at 4 AM, and you swat him for being a horny idiot — but it takes five minutes to give in because you can hear the need in his voice when he whines "Please?" and starts humping against you, "I've got so much cum for you." he tells you and though it sounds so sweet in his soft, bedroom voice it's hard to take him as an innocent man, because his thick boner is grinding hard and hot between your plush lips.

You can bet you'll probably only get to sleep when the birds are chirping, 'cause your hubby's balls are too heavy and full of cum and he needs to drain himself inside you — oh, and you can also bet that afterwards he will be sleeping like a princess, clinging to you with his face snuggled into your tummy.

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[hoshigray]

˙⋆✮ FIRST PERSON SQUIRTER.ᐣ.ᐟ ✮⋆˙ | jjk men

꩜ᯅ꩜ choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna & toji × how they deal with a squirter!?

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences (true form! kuna) - kissing/making out - thigh-riding - [anal] fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - sqůirtǐng (ofc) - facesitting - Daddy kink - 69 + doggy style + full nelson positions - overstimulation - clitoral play (grinding + swiping + pinching) - praising - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, cutiepie, good girl, little thing, etc.) - degradation + humiliation - mention of blood and drool/spit.

word count: 5.3k

a. note: goin on a trip next week, so i leave y'all with this until the next one ☆ enjoy !!

ᯓ꩜ Chōsō Kamo

You giggled. “You ready, baby?”

He smiles back. “Bring it on, sweetheart.”

Having a partner willing to try new things with you is undoubtedly a blessing. Wouldn’t you want to try anything and everything with your partner—learning new things and sharing experiences with the person you love and cherish the most in this globe? 

It adds to your trust in one another – an exchange enhances the companionship…even if it’s in the bedroom!

“Okay, Choso, get ready.”

Your boyfriend nods from below you, watching from between your thighs as you descend your lower half where his face is, and the two of you moan once the lips of your labia land on his awaiting tongue.

This was all your idea, by the way: you’re the one who pulled on Choso’s shirt as you two watched the television from his bed, his caramel eyes drifting to you after grabbing his attention. It was difficult to ask at first, stumbling with your words as this embarrassing request isn’t something you make regularly. Once you got your words out, it wasn’t surprising to see your boyfriend a little flustered as you were. 

However, that didn’t stop him from accepting it – albeit bashfully – confidently, igniting a colossal quirk of happiness to affect the glow of his bedroom. So, here you two are, putting this new experience to the test. 

“Mmmm, oh God,” you purr with chewed lips, fighting the urge to swing your hips as Choso mouths you. 

Choso has his hips on your waist to keep you steady as he does his work, using his lips and tongue to please you in this new position. His tongue swims around your inner labia, the folds coated with your wetness mixed with his saliva. You exhale through your nostrils, your thighs sluggishly move to have your man attend to the surface, and you mewl at the flick of your clitoris. Oh shiiit…!

Having you on top of him like this was not something the brunet expected, thinking this would be a lazy day to hang out with his cute companion on this slow Friday. However, to have easy access to taste your fluids within his vicinity in this erotic position...he’s starting to like it a little too much. 

“Ohhh, my God, Choso,” you shrill with a gasp. “You’re so good…Feel so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He questions below your waist, poking your clit with his tongue. “You like riding my face?” 

He can’t see it, but you nod impetuously. “Yessss! Yees—Shhaaah! Fuck, your tongue…!” You lick your lips and bite as you bring your waist lower, his nose bumping on your clit. “More, give me moreee…!”

“Heh, sure thing,” he titters at your enthusiasm as his hands curl to your buttocks, bringing you further down to his level. You whimper as he sucks on your vulva with purpose, lapping his tongue around to tease your entrance before he pushes it in. Here is where Choso changes the atmosphere, fucking you with his tongue and collecting more of your essence to drink. All you can do is wail and swing your hips faster, and your boyfriend quickly catches the rhythm. Shit, tastes so good…!

“Uhhgg, feels so fucking good—Mmmaa!” Holy hell, this was too much! There’s so much going on underneath you outside your control, only having the command of your waist to influence. Your thighs jiggle as you resort to bouncing on your boyfriend’s face, and your hands ball on the comforter the two of you lay on. 

Choso’s tongue goes frantic, wiggling the wet muscle around your insides and pulling you in to sink more into your overwhelming taste and smell. The more you bounce on his face, the more his nose hits your clitoris, your bud sending shocks up to your head to enlighten the exhilaration! Faster and faster you go, the same for the tongue lapping all over your vulva and sucking on you purposely. 

“Choso..!! Cho—shiiiit—Chosooo!!” You cry out with trenched brows and closed eyes, electric shocks spiraling all over your body with all the growing pressure. 

Your body then gives in, and you let your essence out of your system. Your fluids shower all over Choso’s face as you come on his tongue; your boyfriend is not swayed by the liquid hitting his face, just focused on slurping your wetness covering your cunt. Quivers force your thighs to jolt, jerking your whole frame as you let the waves of your orgasm hit until everything relaxes.

And when it does, you sigh heavily and lift your ass. Choso watches the sight before him, his spit blended with your come all within your inner thighs. The heat from his face spreads to his ears — oh, he hopes he doesn’t get addicted to this.

“Oh my God, Choso,” your boyfriend snaps to your call. “Your face, it’s all wet!”

“Hm? Oh!” It takes a second to realize that he is utterly drenched with your satisfaction, scoffing with a smile. “Guess we both got a bit too excited.”

You chuckle as you leave to grab a hand towel from his bathroom. “I’m sorry about that!”

“It’s okay,” Choso takes off his shirt, which was damp on his collar, and accepts the towel you give him. “As long as you’re feeling good up there, I don’t mind drowning a bit for you, sweetie.”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re not funny.”

ᯓ꩜ Nanami Kento

Nothing puts the cherry on top of a hard day at work for Nanami than coming home and being pulled into your arms.

“Nnnmm, Kento, you feel so good…”

…And loving on him more affectionately.

You practically dragged your man into the living room, peppering him with smooches in your glee that he had returned home safe and sound, and he chortles as you beckon him to sit on the couch with you. The two of you winding down while watching the television, Nanami relaxing with a nice cold beer and taking off his necktie and blazer.

However, he’s unaware of you glimpsing through your peripheral, looking intently, sliding his tie off his collar and unbuttoning his shirt. You notice the sneak of his exposed collarbone, drifting your gaze to something else only for it to land on his pants. Lips flatten at the sight of his thighs; his hand patting on it makes you stare longer than intended, swallowing thickly to quench a dry throat. 

He was taking a swig of his beer, watching the motion of his Adam’s apple with intent. Your fingers fiddling with the bottom of your sundress can’t jurisdiction your thoughts anymore, wanton desires stacking up and soon to fall like dominoes. 

And when it does fall, you silently stand and walk in front of Nanami, the blonde noticing you come around to obstruct his view of the TV. “My love?” You don’t answer. “Something’s wrong?” No words yet…but you lift your dress, mocha eyes pinpointing to the cute design of your cotton thong. “Sweetheart…” you move to sit again, but not back on the couch—nope—instead, his pant-clad thigh, straddling the firm muscles, and your arms come around to cup his cheeks.

“Kento,” you finally speak, whispering for only his words to pick up. “I missed you.”

If there was one thing that could pull Nanami’s heartstrings, it was you – his pretty wife. So, when you express your love for him, of course, he has to reciprocate tenfold.

“Ooooo, yesss, Ken…please, go faster…Mmmph.”

You stay atop Nanami’s thigh, grinding your labia on his pants to the point that a damp spot is prominent in the tan color. The blonde doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he’s the one who slid your thong for his fore and middle finger to swipe on your clitoris. The touch is pleasant, fueling your waist to keep moving. With your back to his chest, he kisses you passionately from behind. Your sweet tongue meets his, influenced by the taste of alcohol, a strange combination that surprisingly gets the kiss steamier. 

Nanami chews on your bottom lip, having you whimper so sublimely that shivers crawl his spine, sucking on your tongue as your hips go faster. Jesus Christ, the friction from grinding on the material of his pants feels so good, nestling in between your folds nicely and faintly bumping on your clit. However, that is for your husband’s fingers, tweaking the bud you perk to your tippy toes. Hahhh, so good!

“Mmmm, shit,” the golden-haired man curses under his breath before taking your lips into his again. “Come here, angel.” He slams his lips to yours, and you don’t plan to leave his taste as you throw your head back. One arm lifts your legs by the knees, the free hand having more access for him to stick his middle finger into your wetness.

You moan into his mouth, allowing your husband to please you with his fingers rubbing your inner texture. It starts slow until he adds the ring finger, dialing the pace for his fingertips to scratch onto places you could never reach. A hand finds his hair, his neat locks now getting disheveled because of you. 

“Puhaah, ohhh, shit!” You shrill with puffy lips while Nanami kisses your cheek and chin, all the while his digits are brushing up on the upper wall of your vagina — you almost lose balance. “I’m close…!”

The magic words let Nanami know to keep doing what he’s doing, sucking the skin of your neck while shoving his fingers until his very knuckles. The clamp of your walls is sensational, addicting to the point that he doesn’t want to get his digits out yet — not until your high comes to an end.

And that doesn’t sound impossible; you scream as if you don’t have neighbors between your apartment, a watery liquid ejecting out of your glands and showering all around. Sprinkles of your clear juices hit the palm of Nanami’s hand and thigh, adding more stains to his pants to worry about.

 Your heaving body slowly relaxes as your orgasm rattles your bones, Nanami laying more pecs on your beautiful skin as he permits your quaking legs to touch the floor again. Yet, you jerk when your toes feel something wet, snapping out of your daze and realizing what a show you made.

“O-Oh, my—“ you try to stand, but Nanami’s quick to catch you as your body is still under the shocks of your crescendo. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Kento, I messed up your work clothes.”

“No worries, I need to do laundry tomorrow anyway.” The blonde chuckles to your ear and kisses you again, massaging your waist. 

“In that case…would you mind if I dirty your clothes some more?” Your butt presses up on the tent of his groin — which has been getting firmer and firmer once the man stuffed his fingers in you. “I’m sure you’d get some fun out of it.”

He raises a sandy brow with a smile. “Would I, or would you, since you’re the one who came onto me?”

“…A bit of both.” You both share a laugh as Nanami carries you bridally to the bedroom.

“Then I don’t mind at all.”

ᯓ꩜ Gojō Satoru

“Mmmm, can never get over this view~.”

“Can you stop commenting about it?!”

“Whaaat? I can’t say I admire my cutie’s beautiful ass in front of me?”

“You’re so annoying…” you grumble as you sigh and begin to lick the tip of his cock.

It’s been a while since you and Gojo had a good 69 session. He is busy being the strongest sorcerer of the modern era and being a full-time teacher, and you go through your day-to-day life swarmed up with work and routine. Lack of time to spend together is an onerous task to execute outside of sleeping and snoring in your shared bed.

But alas, when you two are finally resting and enjoying each other’s company this weekend, it’s a no-brainer that you two will end up skin-to-skin action sometime today. 

You straddled atop Gojo, your ass facing him while his lower half was to your front, your hand stroking his length cock, following the curve up to the pink tippy top. The sight of precum starting to pool and spill over down your fingertips makes your cheeks hot, and the heat between your legs causes a twitch.

Gojo, however, grins before he kisses your labia, welcoming his tongue that invades the space between your folds. You moan as you stuff your mouth with his cockhead, treating him with peppered licks and sucks as you keep jerking him off. Fucking hell, his dick is just so lengthy, hitting the back of your throat with ease that you have to remind yourself to relax to not gag.

Lazy licks are dawned on your wet chasm, lapping from the clit up to the other end. He notices the subtle quakes of your thighs as he tongues you down and has him chuckle as he pushes his face into your frame more, his hands curling to cup your ass so he can fondle the flesh.

You mumble on his dick after he flicks your clit. “Mmmph…! Hmmmm…” Sucking on his shaft, you bob your head up and down to get accustomed to the limb. Climbing back up to the tip where you suck on it roughly with hallowed cheeks after drizzling it with saliva. 

“Oh shiiit,” the white-haired man’s head hits the headboard of his bed, moaning at the attention you’re giving his cock. “So good at this, angel,” he coos as his hands curl to the front to massage and lightly pat your asscheeks like drums. “Missed this.”

“Mmmm, mmmahh…!” The tip leaves your lips, and you’re quick to keep stroking him as you lick around his crown. “Fuck, so big…”

“Well, thank you, baby,” he knows you’re probably rolling your eyes at that comment, chortling to himself. “Means a lot hearing that from someone who keeps winking at me over here.”

“Pfft, you’re so gross,” you top his cockhead to the flat of your tongue, blowing on it to make your tall partner shiver under you. “So full of yourself.”

“Mmmm, maybe so,” you whine as Gojo blows and sucks on your inner labia. “But you can’t blame me for that, right?”

“What…ever,” your feet come around and pulls his face back to your ass. “Just shut up and use that tongue—since you’re so confident.”

“Heh, so pushy.” But the thing is, Gojo is confident – narcissistically so. You saying that only probed him to flip a switch, and you’re unfortunately on the receiving end of his wrath. 

Gojo’s tongue goes erratic, swishing around your vulva as if you can’t keep up with one lap after the other. Your waist goes to lift your ass away — fat chance, as his hands return behind your butt to keep you on him the entire time. The vibrations of his humorful laugh are felt in the very nerves of your folds.

You whimper aloud, the hand jerking his cock, straying off its rhythm as your body submits to the pleasure going around your lower half. He inserts his tongue into your opening, fucking your slit with pushes and pulls. He sucks your wetness with his mouth, and the hands placed on your ass grip on the flesh that has you standing on your very palms.

“—Khhh..! W-Wait, Satoruu, stop!” You cry, but the tall man only smacks your ass mischievously, having you clamping on his tongue without your conscience. “I-I said waaait!!” No signs of waiting as he stuffs his face further between your thighs; noises of him slurping your vulva sound so wrong!

Oh, my fucking God! Your legs tremble, a sign that you’re trying everything you can to alleviate. However, Gojo’s grip on you doesn’t make it an easy battle, latching onto you with vigor. No, wait, wait, stop i—“Ahaa—ahhhnn!!”

It’s no use; the fluid you release slips past your control, spraying out of the urethra and showering all over your thighs and Gojo’s lower jaw and neck. Your body yields, losing balance and slumping your whole body on top of your boyfriend as you come on his tongue and drizzle all around the space of your lower half. Shocks and quivers travel up your spine to your head to pound, leaving Gojo to keep lapping and swishing on your wet slit in victory. 

“Mmmm, aahhhshit, so good…!” He blinks with hooded eyes as he licks his lips and spits on your vagina to lick slowly. “Taste so good…”

“Hahhh, ahhh, I..I told you to,” you stand on your elbows and look behind. “To…wait, dummy!”

“You told me to shut and use my tongue!” He backfires, not relenting even after sending your half-lidded glare. You groan and turn back to suck on his pink tip in defeat. “Fuck, love it when you’re all wet like this…and lucky me for being in the splash zone as you—Oww!”

You smack on his nuts. “You’re so annoying!”

ᯓ꩜ Getō Suguru

“Suguruuu…! Don’t do th–Ahhht!”

“Ahhhh, you sound so cute, baby.”

Geto plows you from behind, watching you grip the armrest of the couch as your butt is propped up and your face buried to hide yourself…Quite a futile attempt, if he says so himself, but adorable nonetheless. 

Fucking in the living room wasn’t part of the daily routine today, yet here you two are. His hands grab hold of your waist as he conceals his girthy cock inside your tight cunt, stuffing every inch of him till the very hilt meets the lips of your outer lips. 

Your breath is shaky as Geto’s hips move to and fro, sighing at the sensation of your tensed walls around him. You always felt way too fucking good, biting his lip to fight the urge to let his waist fly and piston himself right into you. And he enjoys the way you act as he teases you, the position giving him ideas on how to torment you idly. 

Like now, as he skims a thumb around your asshole. The action of having you contract on him even more. “Nnnn! Nnooooh, don’t play with my ass…!”

“You sure? It’s been winking at me for a minute.” He chimes with a sly smile, licking his finger and switching his thumb to lather your hole with his saliva. Holy shit, the way you’re twitching around him is driving him nuts, as he hasn’t even put anything in yet. 

“Do-Don’t say it like that!” You peer over your shoulder with furrowed brows, meeting the purple eyes that catch you. His hips go excruciatingly slow, your vagina feeling like a void as he pulls for absence before fulling you back as he pushes. “It’s em…barrassin—Ghhhh!”

He pushes the thumb inside while you’re distracted, and both your holes pucker in haste. “Awww, don’t be like that, my love,” his mellow voice doesn’t match the crudeness of his actions, throwing unpredictable snaps of his hips to throw you off. “Nothing about your body is embarrassing….God, your ass looks so sexy from the back—“

Another twitch of your slit—God, you’re too fucking cute. “What are you—Don’t say stuff like that…!” Your flustered reaction didn’t make it any better as Geto pushed his thumb inside until the dent and knuckle, wiggling it inside and pushing and pulling to toy with your rear. Your teeth clench onto the couch pillow while he increases the cadence of his ruts. “Mmmmm, ohmyGod…Suguu, please—“

“Hmm, you want me to stop?” He asks and observes for a cue to stop what he’s doing. You don’t say anything, though, just your hips swaying. It makes Geto scoff, “I get the feeling you don’t want me to; look at you moving your hips on your own, pumpkin. Your body’s so honest for me.”

“Haaahh, you’re soo…mean, Sugu…”

“Only when I know it makes you feel good,” he moves his bangs out for a bit. “Which is why,” then Geto slithers that same hand down to where your chasm is linked to his wet cock, and his fingers go erratically fast on your clit. “I wanna tease this a bit, too.”

Eyes widen as you shriek at the touch, moaning aloud once he removes his thumb from your ass to keep your butt onto him as he jackhammers his cock into you. Your frame is propelled with every push, the pokes on of your cervix knock you out like the wind, and the hard rubs on your clit have you seeing stars.

“—Ohhooo, oh–hoooo!! Sug’ruuu, waaiitt!!” It’s useless; he doesn’t stop, and more hits to your womb have you wailing uncontrollably. The fingers on your clit don’t let you rest, having you unable to speak a proper sentence and resort to letting your boyfriend pound into you. A few more pinches have your legs jerking, and you can’t help but let the wave smash onto you.

As your orgasm claims over your body, you squirt out, liquids falling onto the couch beneath you, point blank. Your eyes are sewn shut as your slit flutters on Geto’s penis, your substance leaking out of your glans and dirtying your thighs and legs. Oh God, no!!

Geto hisses at the feeling of you spasming on him, tilting his head to see what you’ve done. “Oh my, would’ya look at that~.”

“Shooop, don’t loook…!!” A hand moves to the side to “try” and stop him, but he catches it with his palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t look at iiiit…”

“But you did so well!” Geto kisses your hand. “Maybe I should play with your ass more—“

“Suguru, stop!”

“Kidding~,” he was not.

ᯓ꩜ Ryōmen Sukuna

Sukuna relishes the feeling of you like this — your back to his front, your legs held up by his solid upper arms while the lower hands hold your buttocks, and your holes accommodating to his two girthy cocks — like the good pet you are. 

He entirely suspends you, your entire frame contorted for your arms to grip the futon sheets below. Sweat and warmth are exchanged by bare skin, the glow of the candles highlights the unioned figures within Sukuna’s quarters, and your anus and vagina are full of nothing but the two cocks stretching you and rubbing your insides.

Sukuna bucks his hips with might, and his every push makes you dizzy. Toes curl as your ass is pulled up and down to meet his hefty balls, his dicks venturing further to torture your insides with satisfaction. Your vision gets a bit hazy as the heat gets to your head, and your head begins to pound.

“What’s wrong, little thing,” your lips flatten to hinder the moan wanting to escape as he speaks behind you, feeling his breath brush the hairs of your back. “You’re silent this time around.”

“Haaaah, my Lord…” The tongue of his stomach licks your lower back with a lazy kiss. “Y-You’re…too biiig.”

He hits you with a sudden rut and purrs at the clench of your entrances. “You say that, yet your lewd body seems to accustom pretty well.” Another hit of his hips causes the tips of his cock to brush up against your sweet spots effortlessly, and you finally unclench your lips to let a wail escape. “Your body only good for taking cocks like a real good whore, huh?”

“I’m so—Mmmph…! S-Shooo fuuuull…” 

“No, you’re not,” he snickers as his lower left-hand sneaks around to cusp your clitoris, your precious pearl engulfed by the sheer thickness of his digits. “Not until I fill you with my seed like a sow in heat.”

The salmon-haired man picks up the pace to drill his cocks, churning your vagina and rear like toys. Your cries fly out quickly at the point, puffy lips losing ground to stay locked. Hands balled into fists as you’re threatened by the sheer mass of Sukuna, unable to fight out of this—forced to submit to him and his persistence.

Your slit and butt are so busy with his cocks, the length of your vagina grazing your G-spot by its underside, the walls fluttering involuntarily around him. The dick inside your butt feels so utterly good; the size of him is never something you can get fully habituated to. And the hand on your clit doesn’t stop playing with it, roughly pushing and grinding on it to the point of babbling and choking on spit. 

“—Hnnngh, fuck. So tight,” Sukuna licks your back and nibbles on your skin, teasing to tear your skin to taste just a hint of blood. “Feel so good…”

“Ahahhh, I caaan’t…!” Your eyes begin to water as you shut them close, lack of vision enhancing the sense of touch where it has your nerves overly stimulated. Everything is happening all at once, and you can sense the climb once the tip hits your womb. “I can’t do iiit! You’re gonna break meee!!”

“Keheh, wouldn’t be the first time.” It’s probably for the best because you can’t see the smug-ass grin on his oddly comely face. More kisses are placed on your back. “Shut up and take it, dove,” he commands you, not leaving you any room to retaliate as his thrusts increase without warning. 

Your mouth is agape, and your cries are unwillingly bouncing around the shoji-paneled walls. A bit of spit comes down your lips, your hands only finding Sukuna’s waist for your nails to dig into. The grumble of his stomach traversing to your core to rumble with the vibrations. Oh, God, noo!! You can feel it – the worse of the worse. Just when you thought your humiliation wasn’t enough at this moment, it was about to skyrocket in three…two…one.

Feverish ruts to your ass, have the reins slip out of your hold, all the restraint in your body withering with every harsh push and pull. Your head pounds like crazy, nothing but a blur can be seen in your eyes, and the clear substance expels out of your urethra, leaving out of your system along with your dignity. 

And Sukuna doesn’t have to see it to believe it, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully smacks on your vulva to create more of a mess. The watered-down liquid sprayed out to his thighs and the futon sheets and sticking to your inner thighs and sliding down the crack of your ass. Tiny pinches to your clit help you jerk out more to ruin yourself, your body losing strength entirely and letting the cursed man keep you in your distorted position. 

“Hmph, what a bad little toy,” he criticizes you like always, the tears beckoning to leave your watery eyes. “Look at you causing a mess on my bedding; who told you to do that?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Sukuna,” your expression borderline fucked out, yet the embarrassment keeps you humble. “Forgive me…my Lord.”

Sukuna slaps onto your clit with his palm; you pucker onto his girths immediately. “You dare ask for forgiveness after the fact—I should just throw you out in the cold with these wet sheets you’ve caused.”

“N-Nooo! I’m so sorry!!” Fuck, he loves it when you plead, so desperate for his word, his submissive and breakable dove. “Pleaseee, fill me up with your seed, and I will clean it up…! I-I won’t do it again…”

“Says who?” He finally lets your legs go briefly before he spreads them over with his lower arms. His upper hands find your chest to grope. “You’ve stained my sheets with your essence; you aren’t sleeping anywhere else tonight except here with me in this exact puddle you made for yourself, you dirty pet. Am I clear?”

His final words have your skin crawl as he nibbles on your nape, and you nod.

“Good.”

ᯓ꩜ Fushiguro Tōji

“Gahhh!! Ahhhhh!!”

“Yeah, baby, that’s it; keep clenchin’.”

Toji’s fingers are stuffed inside you, stretching your poor hole with pushes and pulls that take your breath away with ease—quite literally as your arms come around his neck to keep him close.

His bedroom is filled with nothing but you: your shorts and panties decorating his bedroom floor, the smell of your lotion on your now-sweaty skin intoxicating his senses, and your damp towel laid underneath you as you lie on your back.

Toji sits right beside you, near as you keep him from leaving. Not that he planned to — of course not. When he has his ring and middle finger shoved inside your vagina and grazing your inner skin with a mediocre pace, there’s no way the older man would want to stop now. Fuck, he loved how tight your cunt was, so snug to the touch and tender to his fingertips. It drove him crazy, just like you always make him. He can never get tired of you, honestly. 

“Hahhhh, Tojiii, ahhaaa…” Your whimpers get louder and louder by the second, and your back jerks to the blunt of his fingertips, poking deep inside your chasm. “Gooohh, ohhhshit…!”

“Yeah, sweetie?” His forehead touches yours, skin-on-skin increasing intimacy. “Ya like it when I fuck you wit’ my fingers, huh?” You answer with a whine as he slows his digits down, teasing the walls of your entrance while pressing on your clit with his thumb. He scoffs, “So nice and tight fr’ me, huh…”

“Ahhhh..! Bu–But I just…finished taking a showerrr!!” You wail with pleading hooded eyes that are instantly locked with intense viridian ones. “You’re making me—mmm!—dirty again…!”

He raises a brow. “That doesn’t mean anythin’ to me,” more push to your clitoris causes your body to jolt closer to Toji, and he sneers. “Getting all ready and clean fr’ me, what a good girl…all the more fun fr’ Daddy to make ya all dirty and cryin’ all over again.”

A hand grips his shoulder, exposed by his black wife-beater. “Pleasee, Daddy, it’s too—Aghahh!” He sneaks his fingers back inside knuckle-deep; the deep chuckle you hear from him causes your ears to melt. 

“C’mon, mama, I know you have it in ya,” he coos with a kiss to your forehead that has you dissolve under his scarred lips. “Wring my fingers up, make a mess fr’ me.”

Another kiss to your forehead makes you whine, the gentle atmosphere only lasting for mere seconds before the pace of his hand returns to a rhythm that has you screaming instantly. Jesus Christ, those thick fingers are no joke, the stretch enough to overwhelm your senses, along with how deep they reach inside. 

Every push to your cunt has you breathless, and every dig is knuckles-deep and too fast to catch up with one after the other. “Ohoooo, D-Daddyyy, n-nooo!” Yet there’s no point in begging now—once Toji is deadset on something, it’s challenging to swade him off. Especially when it comes to you, his little sweet thing… “I’m gonna—ohfuuck!—I’m so clooose…!”

Your words only egg Toji on to keep fingering you as much as he can, ravaging your delicate insides with his hand alone. He purchases his face to your neck, sighing deeply at the alluring whiff of your lotion. He licks your skin before a kiss, and the pace between your legs becomes unforgivingly faster.

Eyes roll up to the ceiling as your body shuts down without your knowledge, completely taken aback by the climax that clenches around the thickness of Toji’s fingers. Also, the water liquid is excreting projectively from the continuous knock-kneed-worthy pleasure. You let loose with a howl, your back arching with every subtle buck of your hips. 

Toji looks down with a salacious grin, taking in the sight of you spraying all over his bed. The towel is doing nothing but getting damper because of you, and he can only chortle at the sight and, lowkey, thank his intuition for wearing a wife-beater so you can coat his forearm. Dazed with euphoria, your body slumps down to the sheets, sweaty and sticky from the excretions and panting heavily. So much for a shower, huh?

Toji whistles and courses his free hand atop your head while besmearing your vulva with your juices. “Good girl, mama, good fuckin’ girl.”

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