#((Job fights the bloat for the first time))

[controld3vil]

when you compliment them | earthrealm edition

pairings: raiden, kung lao, kenshi & johnny x reader (all separate) synopsis: compliments are a long milestone for you, and yet only recently have you eagerly given them to liu kang's students notes: - reader is general neutral :] - i did NOT anticipate becoming so invested in mk !! hope you enjoy these headcannons with a grain of salt. lmk if they're too out of character

RAIDEN ->  Raiden’s stunned for a moment. Don’t take it personally. He did not expect you to be blunt about it. It makes his heart flutter. You’re someone he admires dearly. And to have you look upon his talents with such delight brings a smile to his face. Raiden will quickly regain his composure and kindly thank you. He’s a humble farmer. He’ll show you gratitude in your words. But the small moments when he’s gazing at you across the Wu Shi Academy make him think back to your compliments. “Your efforts at the Wu Shi are quite admirable, Raiden,” Can you tell how flustered he is? How easily do you make his brain go haywire? If you questionably tease him, Raiden will avoid the topic as much as possible. His eyes won’t even meet yours out of pure embarrassment. And all he could imagine were the smug faces of his friends in this dilemma. [ raiden ] : i- uh appreciate all that you have done for me (name). [ you ] : (laughs) as earthrealm's champion, you deserve as much.

KUNG LAO -> He is smug about it. Are you recognizing his talents? It bloats his ego, and he loves it. Kung Lao will use your praise to alleviate himself in any situation. When he’s about to fight Raiden for the seat of the Chosen One, he uses it to one-up his friend. Your approval is his number one trophy and shield from the rest of his friends. It’s in his pride that out of everyone in the Wu Shi, you’re the one to have looked at him. Honestly, he will always hold it over your head if you two argue. And maybe it takes things too far and results in you taking it all back (and puncturing his self-confidence). It all comes crashing down when he ultimately feels guilty about all the sarcastic criticism and teasing. Eventually, he’ll apologize and express how much you mean to him. Therefore the next time you commend his actions, he’ll take it down a notch [ kung lao ] : i'll beat raiden soon enough. don't you wait (last name)! [ you ] : impress me, first then we'll see if you can beat raiden.

KENSHI TAKAHASHI -> The swordsman chuckles and genuinely enjoys your attention. “I’m flattered,” He utters your last name as a sign of delight. Of the four, he’s not afraid of what you have to say, criticism and compliment-wise. Kenshi strives for improvement. And having you admire his great efforts is comforting. His time with the yakuza was rogue and remorseful. The things he had to do for his clan’s survival were unforgivable. However, he’s made it to work, thanks to Liu Kang. By extension, you are seemingly always there to support his efforts to win his clan back and help Earthrealm. It’s your constant presence that makes his feelings known. You’re extensively supportive of what he does; what can he do to repay the favor? Of course, there will be times when he jabs at the others about it. You’re the one who started the whole fiasco. It’s evident in your favoritism. To say the others are not having it. [ kenshi ] : what sento has given will help me restore my clan tenfold. [ you ] : then i wish the best for the taira clan and its new leader.

JOHNNY CAGE -> Approval is something he’s accustomed to. From movie ratings and down-to-earth interviews, Johnny is no stranger when someone cheers on his efforts. He lavishes on it as much as he can til it’s stale. It’s just how the movie industry works. He takes in criticism and heedlessness like it’s part of the job. It’s the attention he adores. Yet when his entire career is put to a stop for Earthrealm, Johnny has fewer things to worry about. His acting career is on hold now he’s practicing to become one of Earthrealm’s champions. It’s odd for him - to prove his self-worth at face value. He’s a superstar; what else does he have to show? It wasn’t until you arrived, with the goodness of intention from Liu Kang, that made him wonder what someone like you was doing here. You’re sweet and honest when talking to Johnny. It’s like the things he wanted to hear come easily to you. And when you particularly remark on a move he did on Kenshi, his entire day feels fresher and brighter. You know the words to make anyone feel complete and content. And he can’t help to tease you about it later. Johnny absolutely adores you for it. “Doll, you’re killing me with these compliments. How about a drink later?” [ johnny ] : come on! i know sweet talk when i see it. [ you ] : has being one of earthrealm's champions gone over your head, johnny?

[soaps-mohawk]

The Love Language Of Food

Kyletober Day 9: Feeding

Summary: He won’t let you go hungry. He just wants to take care of you, that’s all.

Pairing: Kyle x fem!reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Feederism, feeding kink, food, foodplay, weight gain, fat kink, weight kink, manipulation, gaslighting, guilt, body dysmorphia, insecurity, a little body worship but in a toxic way, oral sex, munch!Kyle

A/N: And this is where things start to get freaky 😏 there's no going back from here.

MASTERLIST

“Can’t let you go hungry, love.” 

Those are the words you hear most often from your boyfriend. More than ‘I love you’ and even ‘how was your day?’ The phrase is a staple in your household, gracing your ears at least twice a day, if not more. The concept of hunger and being well fed has permeated your life in all forms thanks to your boyfriend and his love of food. 

If food is a love language, then it’s his. 

He never lets you cook. Ever. You’re only allowed in the kitchen to grab food or drinks, but god forbid you put your hand on more than a plate. Even heating soup is frowned upon. It’s his job to take care of you, his job to provide, his job to make sure you’re fed. 

He does just that. 

You watch as he scoops a heaping second helping onto your plate. It’s bigger than the first helping, you think. He won’t let you do anything but sit there as he makes your plate. He knows your favorites, the ins and outs of how you prefer each dish he makes. He takes trying new recipes as a learning opportunity, not for him but for you, observing your eating habits in the way he’s done for the last two years. 

“Eat up.” He says, placing the plate back in front of you. 

You’re full, but you have to eat it. He’ll get that sad look on his face, those big brown eyes shining as he stares at you in disappointment. He’s just worried about you. He just doesn’t want you to go hungry. 

There’s a churning in your stomach as you pick up your fork, hand squeezing tight around the knife as you cut another piece off the juicy chicken. It’s delicious, as all of his food is. He is a good cook, taught by his mother, he says. You’ve met her, you’ve met his whole family many times. They’ve never brought up his habits, the way he always gives you a second helping and dessert, even if you look like you’re about to pop. 

You feel like it sometimes. 

Kyle watches you closely as you continue to eat your second helping. He’s done, plate cleared and silverware placed neatly across it. He’s watching you, eyes following the movement of the fork to your lips, watching as you chew, watching as you swallow before following your fork back down to the plate. 

You force the second helping down, not feeling up to an argument, the inevitable guilty look as you refuse his help, his care, his devotion. 

Food is his love language. 

You can’t break his heart like that. 

The band of your sweatpants is tight around your stomach as you finish the last bite on your plate. You lean back in the chair with a sigh, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. You feel bloated, distended, not an unusual feeling after a meal with Kyle. After every meal. 

He makes you sit on the couch as he does the dishes. You don’t get to touch them, not even when you offer to help him. The kitchen is his office, his sacred space. 

You adjust your sweatpants as you choose to lay on the couch, trying to ease some of the bloating feeling. Your sweatpants are almost too tight, though Kyle wouldn’t complain if you walked around in your underwear. He probably wouldn’t complain if you walked around in nothing. You might have to at this rate. 

None of your pants fit anymore. 

***

The tightness of your shirt has tears stinging your eyes. It’s one of your favorites, or at least it was. It’s too tight now, squeezing around the curves and lumps of your body, things that have only gotten bigger since you started dating Kyle. You let out a sigh, fighting to get the shirt over your head, tired of seeing the pattern on the front stretched across your boobs. You’ve had to go up two bra sizes just this year. 

You poke at your stomach as you stand in front of the mirror in nothing but your underwear. There’s a churning in your stomach as you stare at yourself, and it’s not just from how full you still are. 

“What is it?” Kyle asks as he enters your bedroom, always so aware and attentive. You might have grown to hate it, had it not been the first time you’ve ever had someone care this much. He sets the items he’s carrying on the nightstand before turning to you. 

“I’m gaining weight.” You say with a pout, poking at the rolls of your stomach again. 

“Nah, love.” He says, coming up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re perfect to me. Every inch of you.” He squeezes you tightly, so tightly you’re afraid you might do something embarrassing. “Come on.” He says, turning you towards the bed. His hand slides down your back to your ass, giving it a squeeze. Something else that’s gotten bigger. 

He’s never complained, though. 

“You didn’t have dessert.” He says. Your eyes flicker to the nightstand, and sure enough there’s the familiar chocolate sauce and whipped cream. He even brought the sprinkles up. 

He climbs on the bed, all lean muscle and long limbs. Sometimes you want to hate him, but then he gives you that dazzling smile and you fold instantly. He makes regular gym visits, but your days of working out are over. He gives you that disappointed look if you do even a squat, softly reprimanding you for possibly hurting yourself. 

‘My girl shouldn’t be doing anything. That’s my job. You just sit there and look pretty.’ 

You don’t feel pretty anymore. 

“What is it?” Kyle asks again as you hesitate at the foot of the bed. 

You shrug, looking down at the comforter. “Just not...feeling it right now.” You really aren’t. The bloating in your stomach, the fullness still weighing you down, and the weight of your body’s changes still fresh on your mind. You just want to put on a baggy t-shirt and crawl into bed so you don’t have to see yourself anymore. 

You can picture the frown that forms on his face, the way his brows pull together. “Come here.” He says, reaching out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before you climb on the bed, letting him guide you so you’re lying next to him. His hand gently rubs your stomach as he leans over you on his elbow. His lips are pulled up in a soft grin as you stare up at him. His eyes sparkle as he stares back at you, shining with the love you know he feels for you. He does love you. He wouldn’t insist on taking care of you in the ways he does if he didn’t. 

He wouldn’t make sure you’re fed if he didn’t love you.

“You are perfect to me.” He says quietly, still staring down at you with those soft eyes. “You always will be. You’re my girl.” 

His hand shifts lower, still rubbing your stomach. It moves with his hand, his fingers digging into the softness for a moment before relaxing. His palm is warm as it presses against your skin, and he offers no complaint about how it sinks into the softness around your waistline. 

“You know I care about you. That’s why I make sure you’re taken care of.” He leans down closer to you, his breath fanning your face. It smells like chocolate. He must have snuck a taste of the sauce before coming up. “You’re my good girl.” His voice pitches lower. “Always so obedient for me.” His hand presses harder against your stomach as he leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “So perfect for me.” 

You melt into him as he kisses you, lips moving softly against your own. He knows what he’s doing, kissing the air straight out of your lungs. His hand lifts from your stomach, cupping your cheek instead as he presses against you, a hard bulge pressing against your hip. You moan softly against his lips. All thoughts are wiped from your mind, all doubts and self-hatred out the window as he kisses you, as he grinds his bulge against your body, proving his love and unwavering attraction towards you. 

No matter what. 

“You didn’t get your dessert.” He murmurs against your lips, pressing one last burning kiss against them before pressing himself back up. “Can’t let my girl go without her sweet treat.”

Your stomach twists at the idea of eating again, of forcing more food into your body, but at least you know what to expect this time. Your body betrays you as Kyle leans over to grab the chocolate sauce and whipped cream from the side table before settling on his back. The dampness in your panties that had started as Kyle kissed you intensifies as he begins to spread the chocolate across his body, following it with the whipped cream. The sprinkles come last, some of them sliding off of him and onto the comforter. That’s going to be a mess later, but he’ll be the one worrying about that. 

You don’t have to do anything.

“Well? Come enjoy your dessert, love.” He says, motioning to the sweet treat waiting for you, slathered across his smooth skin. 

The mattress dips as you press yourself up onto your hands and knees, hovering over him from the side. You start at the top, pressing gentle kisses against his skin as you work your way down to his pecs where the first bit of whipped cream is waiting for you. His lips part as you lick at it, spreading the cream across his skin. His eyes are on your mouth as you suck and lick at his skin, cleaning up every last bit of whipped cream and chocolate sauce. You can’t help but hum at the sweetness, satisfying that desire for your dessert, something you always get after you eat. He’s conditioned you to expect it, conditioned you to need it. 

He’s sticky but satisfied as you work your way down his stomach, muscles clenching at the ticklish feel of your tongue on his skin. “C’mere.” He gasps, wrapping a hand around your thigh. 

You get the memo, straddling his shoulders as you continue to lap up the chocolate sauce on his stomach. It’s rich on your tongue, coating it in sweetness as Kyle pushes your panties to the side. You moan against his skin as he presses his face into your puffy lips, inhaling deeply. Your arms buckle as his tongue drags across your pussy, licking you just as you are him. 

He’s getting his own dessert as he eats you out, slurping at your juices as he holds your hips, not caring as you begin to rock back against his face. You had voiced your worries and hesitations once as he invited you to sit on his face. You’re too big, you’ll suffocate him. 

‘Then I’d die a happy man.’ 

All thoughts of self-doubt and self-hatred are wiped away as he continues to lick and suckle at your clit. Your face is pressed against his abs, your skin and his covered in chocolate as you give up trying to lick him clean. He’s perfect, the way he can make you forget, the way he can wipe the very thoughts from your mind with his mouth and his tongue. 

He eats you like he’s trying to devour you, just as he makes you eat to devour his food. 

Food is his love language, you think as your legs shake with your first orgasm of the night. He feeds you because he loves you. 

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[queercoshon]

So here's the same story, but with some feedism bits thrown in. Hope it's integrated well enough to feel different, and not just like an afterthought.

Friday night is when you can revert back to your true nature.

And that is a drunk hedon.

You spend all week primmed up and put together, managing the responsibilities of a job, a household, a social life. You're relied on to make decisions, to follow them through, and subsequently handle any consequences that may arise.

But after your first toke and shot of the weekend, none of it is your problem. You feel the tension unwind from your shoulders, your back slouch a little more into the couch, and your pinned up smile melt into a real one. Now you can let go.

You could put on the tv, or listen to music and make art, or just scroll the internet, and let your desires take over.

You take a hit of your joint, sipping your first drink of the night between inhales. The smell of smoke wafts away along with the day's worries. The drink is chugged back to time it with the last embers burning out.

The high starts to screw your smile sideways, and you quickly take down another drink. Now is when the fun challenge of the weekend begins; get fucked up as quickly as possible but delay passing out as long as possible. And of course, gorge with reckless abandon.

You feel the alcohol start to spread warmth from your stomach up to your cheeks, but it's not working fast enough, so naturally you need a shot. And maybe another, just in case.

You set up your space with easy access to your bong, edibles, a case of cans (24 pack; you've learned a 6 pack won't get you to 8pm), the still mostly-full bottle of vodka, enough food to feed a whole family (a pizza, garlic knots, cauliflowerbites, and a brownie dessert pizza), and water.

You set up your movie and pull up its drinking game rules, crack another can, and quickly start on the pizza.

You drink more than the rules dictate, and open another one fifteen minutes in. An edible ends up in your mouth. That'll be a nice surprise in about half an hour.

You were genuinely hungry when you started your pizza, but now the influence of weed is doing most of the heavy lifting. The artificial hunger is almost more compelling than the genuine one, as you don't stop to think about what you're shoving in your mouth.

As you watch you feel your mind start to get fuzzy. The lights of the tv are a little softer, the jokes a little funnier, the couch a little comfier. High energy thoughts can't even enter your brain, so they can't nag at the back of your mind and dampen this evening.

You've been bouncing between cauliflower bites and garlic knots for a while now; obeying the munchies but also feeling your bloated gut start to gurgle in protest. Spending every weekend like this has stretched your capacity massively, but you still have struggles. Until the edible hits. Now those last two slices of pizza sound like a great idea. You rub your plush middle between bites and will your stomach to keep stretching.

Close to the end of the movie your first bout of hiccups wracks your body, making you hold your bouncing belly and giggle. You've made a tradition now where as soon as the first hiccups stop, you take another shot. This "shot" is you chugging from the vodka bottle, going until the burn in your throat is too much.

Finding the remote to put the next movie on is hard (it was on your thigh, completely covered by your gut), and so is operating the buttons, but you have lots of practice now and get it with little issue.

There's a drinking game for this movie too, but it's a lot harder to remember the rules and sometimes remember that you're playing. Don't worry, you're still drinking at a steady pace. Such a steady pace that halfway through the second movie you start to question what the hell is happening (you've seen this movie a few times already.) You giggle as you try to follow the plot, and you giggle as your body fights gravity trying to reach the bong. The fight gets harder and harder every weekend as you add pounds to your rapidly expanding frame, working against the weight as well as your bulging gut that's getting difficult to reach around.

Several rips later you lay melted into the couch, red eyes staring at the flickering tv. You think your mouth is dry from cottonmouth, but you've also been sitting there slack jawed and drooling just a bit. Alternating between your water and beer is remedying it, but it's also blurring your vision and sending heat to every extremity.

How long has the movie been finished? The screen has been recommending what to watch next for a while, but you've just clued in on that. Time to move on to something else.

The cans littered on the couch clank as you shift your body to get up, rocking up and nearly tumbling onto the coffee table. You feel your stomach shift, and several deep belches roar out of you, all that movement releasing the trapped air.

Whoaaa, everything is swaying, like being on a cruise ship in choppy water. Miraculously, you bend over and pick up the half empty beer case without ending up on the floor. Bending over like that is getting increasingly difficult, you belly got awful squished just now.You put the vodka bottle in the box as well, having enough mind to keep one hand free to catch your falls. Too bad, the brownie pizza will have to wait until tomorrow.

One step, two steps, a little stumble to the side and back. The bedroom feels so far away. A particularly dangerous wobble makes you hug the hallway wall, using your shoulder to guide your melting body.

You make a quick stop to the bathroom and as you wash your hands you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot, but it's hard to see that as your eyelids droop, adding to the doped up look of your screwed smile. Your mirage sways because you do, the act of standing still far too complicated a task to manage. Your belly domes out in front of you, the bottom still soft and jiggly, while the rest is stuffed solid.

Walking isn't any easier, but you make it to your bedroom without incident. You turn on some fairy lights and some music and lay next to the beer case in bed. Everything swaying gives the comforting inertia of laying in a hammock being rocked by the breeze. Breathing is a bit of a struggle between the weight of your chest and the pressure your stomach is putting on your diaphragm.

You want more. So you sit up just enough not to choke as you drink and brink the vodka to your lips. That burns feels like pleasure now, and the shudders that traverse your body when you finish spur you on to drink more.

You scroll online lazily and admire everyone else getting wrecked tonight. A bold competitiveness rises up in you, determined to stay ahead of the others. You sit up more so you can feel the effects of the alcohol more, and it doesn't take long before you start to careen sideways, booze zapping all ability to stay upright.

Someone challenges you to walk to the other side of your room and back, and to chug vodka halfway through, if you make it that far.

Your legs tangle as you try to roll off the bed, but you manage to land on your feet. And then your butt as you fall back onto the bed, which creaks ominously. Attempt two gets you up, but you nearly topple over when you lean to pick up the bottle.

The world is a tilting balancing beam, and you're sure you're going slide off sizeways. You stumble sideways, back and forth, so much that you easily double the amount of steps it would have taken to get there in a straight line.

The wall meets your shoulder unceremoniously, and you lean on it like your life depends on it. Your balance certainly does; there's no way you're freestanding anymore.

The burn of vodka is triumphant, as is the spittle connecting between the neck of the bottle and your poisoned lips, as is your first step back towards the bed.

The second step is where you falter. No longer do you have the support of the wall, so your body quickly accepts help from the floor. Luckily you don't buy good vodka in glass, so the plastic bottle bounces harmlessly away.

Crumpled and dumb, you lay there giggling and wiggling, the pleasure of being so drunk and out of control brushing over your skin, especially over your still expanding belly, taut and erect in the air. Reaching for the bottle takes a few tries between your compromised folded position and your heavy disobeying arm, but you manage and tip it back, getting most in your mouth, but a good amount dribbles down your cheek and chin.

Hic! Your body jerks from the sudden spasm, limbs following through with the last of the twitch. Hic! Urrp.

You try to roll over, but you you're completely beached on your back by the weight of your belly. You can't even move you head and keep your eyes open at the same time. Gravity pins your shoulders back, forbidding enough momentum to get to your side.

So you just lay there, an entire bottle of vodka and countless beers pulsing through your veins, an entire pizza and two shareable appetizers fighting against the beer for space in your stretchmarked middle, and the power of joints, edibles, and the bong clouding your stalling brain. You don't need to think, you just need to feel.

You feel your head loll side to side, giggling as the world shifts. You feel your diaphragm hitch with every pesky hiccup and the contents of your stomach slosh with every involuntary movement. Most of all, you feel heat wash over your body in crashing waves, soaking your mind in nothing but pleasure, sending sensitive tingles down your spine, and a lusting desire for more.

Your beer is on the bed, and your toys are in the drawer beside it. Getting there might actually be impossible. For now, at least.

Conciousness starts to slip away from you, and you make a promise to yourself to move once you come to. You'll still be drunk as a skunk and unable to walk, but you might be able to crawl by then. Then you can get a head start on your Saturday activities.

You're so out of control that you're passing out on your floor, unable to move the few feet to your bed. Hedonistically sloshed for pleasure, but so fucked up that you can't do anything after the build up. Moans spill out of you as you try to squirm, just making yourself frustratingly more turned on.

But those moans quickly silence, because your debauchery has finally completely taken you over, leaving you passed out on the hard floor, drool dripping from your gaping mouth, eyes rolled back, and despite your state, arm reaching towards what should have been your next drink. What will be your next drink. When you're sober enough to move, but not enough to think.

There's no need to think.

[permapreg-ashe]

The Holy Vessel

You pant, winded, taking a heavy seat on the warm, sunstroked stone bench to catch your breath. Your massive swollen breasts rise up, the chest of your vestments meeting your chin. Beneath them, your enormous orb of a belly rests, forcing your legs apart and straining against both the fabric of your robes, and your taut, stretchmarked skin.

You are a Vessel. A kind of cleric that banishes demons to a prison within your belly. Complete envelopment within the body of a particularly Holy individual will over time cleanse and rehabilitate the demons before they are released as benevolent spirits.

But you have a teensy little problem with that. You see, you have a pregnancy fetish. A really really big pregnancy fetish. One that lasts forever. An impure body such as yours could never cleanse a demon. Yet still your duties remain, especially in today's world near devoid of The Faith and few demon cleansing services still running. You peer over your chest to your massive pregnant mound of a belly. Heaving, quivering, with the occasional jostle from a particularly powerful demon trying to make yet another fruitless escape. 18 years with The Church, and 10 years as Holy Vessel. You thought what you were doing was righteous, that you'd be a benefit to society purifying demons. That was until your first banishing, and the awakening that came with the feeling of your stomach swelling for the first time. You excitedly took to cleansings, though over time, your stomach never shrank back down like the others. The Cardinal knew what you were, and banished you from the city Cathedral out to the frontier, the boonies. Though they did you a favor, the demons harassing small hamlets and villages out here live longer and are far bigger than the little shrimpy ones in the city. So a frontier demon slayer you became, back when people could still mistake you for a normal-sized pregnant cleric.

You rub a hand gently over the soft surface of your robes, stretched out over your belly. Even through the cloth it felt as taut as a drum, and was hot to the touch, nearly radiating into your hand on contact. It quaked, with a stern interdimensional shove from a particularly powerful trapped demon fighting against its magical confines. You patted it chidingly, forgetting for a moment that they don't feel anything from the outside. That demon made you swell quite a lot, it was an eventful night. Though since then your girth has nearly doubled, still covered ever so magically by the divine will within your endlessly stretching holy robes.

The local villagers have long since ran out of names to call you, as well as things to compare your belly to. Though originally seeing you as perverse and giving you names like "bloated harlot" "rotund charlatan" "over-bred heretic sow". But you did a good job, you put away demons, and you were even nice, and not at all edgy about it. Some would even think you were cute, when you were huge and round. Like that one Albionian shopkeep like two towns over, you remember the one, the one with the fancy glass eye.

They eventually adopted a warmer disposition, calling you things like "that enormously pregnant priestess" "the waddling demon slayer" and "hey fatty". They also started joking at your expense, which brought a smile or a chuckle to your lips now and again, but if you had to hear "Sheesh I know they say your body is a temple but yours is more like a grand cathedral!" one more Lightforsaken time you were going to use up your Smite for the day. With the jokes came the children running up to compare things to how big you are. They'd bring their kick balls, their fat chickens, their pillows, big rocks, one even brought their own pregnant mother over and just pointed, looking dumbly at his mother like he wasn't about to be smacked a'fortnight. That too ended, as the local children and curious adults ran out of things that could match up to your swelling size. Nowadays they have now begun requesting your presence at festivals as a reference for prize-winning plumkins or splashmelons.

Speaking of, as though your womb had become stressed for room and spilled its volume over into your chest, your breasts also begun to inflate massively, with each added demon stretching the laces of your brassiere further and further, swelling from a righteous and holy ✞-cup, rapidly to heathenous sizes well beyond cup measurements one would find in even the richest Goblin brothel.

As though intentionally completing your curves like your body was insistent to have the lewdest figure possible, your portly derriere swelled in tandem with your breasts and stomach, rivaling even the flanks of dire-oxen in width and weight. Truly, it's "bootylicious" -to use a Wood Orc term- breadth stretched out your robes to either side of your hips you as you rest on the stone bench of your humble abbey.

Through the steamy haze of lurid thoughts and lecherous rubbing and groping of your immensity as you reminisce, you hear a knock at the wooden door of the big stone hall. Without waiting for a response, the owner of the knock calls out;

"Hello? I was told you guys do demons here? My wife enscribed some things on her crystal ball that made our neighbor summon a demon curse on her that turned her into a wolf woman." He paused. And then unprompted he continued, "I'm kind of into it, but she is sick of having six nipples and our son Broyton is allergic. Can anyone help me?" You look at your mountain of robes in front of you, both hands on either side of your immense middle. As though audibly disagreeing, it let out a low, groaning creak, reminding you of your mortality and giving you brief visions of an exploded you with an evil cloud of demons spilling into the sky and ending the world. But holy fuck was that hot.

"I suppose I could hold... one more." You quietly lie to yourself, repeating what you told yourself last time. And the time before that.

Your wet swollen womanhood adding to the ass sweat of the hot stone seat, you slowly, heavily, methodically stand, hoisting your enormously pregnant self partway up on your long holy staff, you waddle to the entrance to meet your new client.

"You named your kid Broyton?"

End :3

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

What would you say are Trump's biggest successes from both his first and currently ongoing second presidential terms?

Biggest accomplishments from his first term were slashing regulations, a booming economy, gas prices that dipped below $2, destroying ISIS as a credible threat, tax cuts, and his biggest and the entire reason I voted for him the first time, putting a conservative majority on the supreme court. There were more, but those are the ones that stick out to me. This term he's deporting illegals, bringing manufacturing jobs back to the US, makin foreign companies invest in the US, slowly fixing the disastrous Biden economy, protected the filibuster, is dismantling the bloated and unconstitutional federal bureaucracy, is finding an eliminating waste, fraud, and abuse at all levels of government, is doing his best to close down agencies like the DoE, USAID, USIP, etc, destroying the Houthis and possibly even bombing Iran into dust, ending transgender nonsense in government, ending DEI, turning the military back into a lethal fighting force and not a woke social experiment, supporting Israel against the evil, genocidal Hamas, forcing college campuses to address the rampant anti-semitism and political violence on campuses, sending the Democratic Party into a death spiral of its own making, and these are just the things I can name without going back to look them up. Trump has had one of the most consequential first two months of any president in history, and I can only hope he keeps the momentum going for the next 4 years.

[ilikekidsshows]

reading the things that have been said here and by literally every ml critic about how adrien and every other victim of abuse or anything else really in this show is just ignored made me think about how people have been saying that adrien should have been the main character. and i can see where they're coming from because like marinette is so irrelevant to all the plot points that actually matter in terms of gabriel's whole thing. i really do want ml to be a girl power superhero/magical girl show where the main character is a poc female but ml is just not that show.

marinette at this point is the main character because the narrative says she is. a lot of the things that happened, even way back in s1, happened because marinette kept inserting herself into things. she got to be the one to have the final fight with hawkmoth AND have that final conversation with gabriel even when they like barely spoke to each other and there's literally nothing to their relationship besides the fact that she's dating his son and also the obligatory hero-villain connection. like she's so disconnected from the actual heart of the original plot that they had to keep forcably shoving her in there to make her relevant in her own show, which keeps making her look like an annoying, jealous stalker who doesn't care about anything but her own desires, comfort, and happiness

just like, when you have a considerable amount of fans that say not even that they want him to have a spin off series where he deals with his own shit, but that adrien should be the main character of the main series because it would make so much more sense, it doesn't matter whether they're right to want that or not, what matters is that clearly the writing got fucked up somewhere for them to even consider it seriously.

---

It's not only that Marinette isn't plot-important enough to justify her bloated protagonist status. The fact of the matter is that Marinette just doesn't have enough to contribute as a fictional person to justify her protagonist status even in the civilian plots she gets shoehorned into. Part of this is the "lesson of the day" aspect of the show, where Marinette's contributions to the plots will have her do something blatantly insensitive, selfish or downright awful to someone when she gets involved in things that are none of her business, all so that the writers can turn that into a lesson that they then don't have the decency to commit to. The writers are too busy throwing her a pity party for her little oopsies that should totally not reflect on her character even when it's the very core of the character and the way she operates.

For all Marinette is supposed to be a kind, intelligent and heroic person, we just don't see her making the lives of the people around her better the way you'd expect from someone called "everyday Ladybug" once upon a time, or even the way you'd expect any halfway decent teen hero protagonist to. Like, would it kill the writers to write more than one or two episodes where someone actually asks Marinette for help with something and then at least Marinette's well-meaning but misguided attempts to help wouldn't be so self-centered? No wait, them asking for help instead of merely receiving it at Marinette's decision would give them too much agency and we can't have that in the puppet theatre!

Basically, the Miraculous writers are so bad at their job that the series actively suffers from Marinette, as she is being written, being the protagonist. Like, one of the first things I said about 'Sublimation' was something along the lines of: “I have no faith in these writers' ability to tackle the topic of physical disability from the perspective of their coddled, able-bodied protagonist,” not because I thought able-bodied kids couldn't learn understanding alongside an able-bodied protagonist, but because I knew the writers always consider Marinette's comfort paramount. Because Marinette's comfort is paramount, abuse victims and disabled characters are expected to cater to her if they're supposed to be seen as “good”.

As it stands, Marinette is so high-maintenance that it doesn't matter what anyone else is dealing with, Marinette being uncomfortable with them having needs is more important to the writers than those needs every single time. Like, Kim Possible, twenty years ago, had an episode where Kim was uncomfortable around a kid who needed a wheelchair, and the lesson of the episode was that it wasn't about her, so she just had to get over herself. Miraculous would never, and that's the problem. That's why Marinette has such difficulty acting like the good person she theoretically is; she’ll be kind and considerate when it's convenient for her, but, the longer the show goes on, the more the writers make every single moment inconvenient for her. 

I described this issue to my brother, who said it reminded him of how one of Miraculous' pitch phases had a version of Adrien who needed to use a walking stick as a mobility aid. Astruc was told that he couldn't give such a prominent character a physical disability because they were concerned over how hard it can be to depict with sensitivity, and now he's made an episode with a character getting her prosthetic legs broken but it's only relevant because it makes the protagonist who broke them upsette. I think the executives had the right idea when they told Tommy the Clown that they didn't have faith he could depict physical disability with the required sensitivity, even as Astruc's own arrogance insisted otherwise.

[taranida]

The Alan headcount; part 1

Alright, I started a theory on all the Alan Wakes we have in the games and, oh boy, did it get bloated. And I actually needed some of the Wakes just to establish important things to draw connections for the main idea. Now, looking at 10k words of build-up without even touching a fun part of connecting the dots, I’ve decided that it would be easier for me and for the reader to have it all split in two.

This part will be focused on the Alans, who don’t really spark arguments yet show and predict a lot. They extend what we know about Alan, add to his character, and allow us to see where some things in other Alans originate from. It will also mostly be focused on pre-AWII, with one exception. There will be no conclusion in the end; it’s just lists of what we know, a bit of dissecting of some of the facts, and nothing more. Aye, I will surely slap a cool quote at the end, but treat it more as a “what we know and ways to interpret it” or a light read of rambling about Alan Wake.

Alan Wake before and during 2010.

I will put this Alan in both parts because he is important, and what I wrote about him here is a foundation that can be applied to any of them (to some extent). We know an awful lot about him (and all of it might be a lie), so I will skip some parts that serve no purpose for the theory.

I’ll call him just Alan; so, what do we know about him:

Alan was born in 1977… or 1978-1979, the guide for AW states he was 31 in 2010, the memorial in AWII reads 1977-2010; go figure.

Alan was born in New York or moved there at a very young age, since he and Barry, who grew up in New York, were childhood friends.

Alan was born with a condition that made him sensitive to light to the point of being blinded by it and prone to migraines.

Alan never knew his father and was raised by his mother, Linda Wake, who had mental issues and spent a lot of time in various institutions while Alan was growing up. Alan was deeply affected by the absence of his father or a father-figure in his life.

Alan had crippling nightmares as a child before his mother gave him the Clicker.

Alan’s first published story was “Errand Boy,” which centred around a broken and twisted father-son relationship, horror, and a lighthouse occupied by the creatures that might’ve been an inspiration for the Taken.

Alan’s first serious writing gig was being a semi-regular writer on the Night Springs show. He hated it, by the way, felt that it was trash, and he was not a real writer. But he got over it; Night Springs ended up being a huge part of his personality.

Alan might’ve taken a job as a night watchman, carrying a gun and torch, in hopes of getting inspiration for his stories; as he states in one of the manuscripts, his first passion was crime. It was a boring gig, but at least he ran into Alice.

Alan is madly in love with Alice and cannot live without her.

Alan also knew that Alice actually can live without him and was always afraid that she will leave him, not allowing himself to truly believe that she loves him.

Alan’s first novel was about Alex Casey; the series grew and brought him success that he didn’t handle well. Parties, fights, substance abuse—all this rock-star lifestyle BS.

Alan considered only two people being close to him: Barry and Alice. And they didn’t get along well, although both care about him and genuinely love him, as he did in return. We have no information about what happened to his mother and what relationship he had with her.

Alan hit a writer’s block after the last Casey novel and his state started to deteriorate. He was moody, angry, and quick to lash out; the rock-star BS intensified. This drove his marriage to a breaking point.

Alan’s involvement in the vacation is unknown; he did say in one of the flashbacks that he wants a vacation for him and Alice, but Alice surely was the one to arrange everything and choose Bright Falls.

Alan forgot more dreams about the Dark Presence than Clay Steward remembers.

Alan had nightmares on a regular basis at the start of the first game; if it’s connected with giving the Clicker to Alice is unknown.

Alan had anger issues.

Alan was a sceptic.

Alan wrote everything that happened in 2010, taking inspiration from Tom Zane’s books, he found in the shoebox in the cabin and advice from his non-human editor Barbara Jagger. His scepticism didn’t stop him from writing supernatural events and Lovecraftian beings.

Alan, even at the time of the first game, had very strict rules about how exactly he should write to make fiction come true. He presents it as some sort of hunches or a writer’s wisdom.

Alan can manipulate time.

Alan ate the Dark Presence and enslaved the Bright Presence.

Alright, maybe the last fact was a bit too exaggerated, but it’s not without truth. Alan did indeed enslave the Bright Presence (and, frankly, everyone who has been mentioned in the manuscripts, plus some others, whose manuscripts Alan didn’t find), but the deal with the Dark Presence is a bit more nuanced. His last words, before he sat down to write “the ending to the story,” effectively rewriting the whole loop we just witnessed in the game, were about balance. Knowing what we know now, Alan might’ve consumed the Dark Presence’s powers whilst banishing her, effectively becoming too large of a presence himself to leave the Dark Place, or he took her place because, as he said, the scales have to balance, everything has a price; the price of killing the Dark Presence and freeing Alice from the Dark Place is staying in the Dark Place (as he himself believes in AWII) with complimentary Scratch in your head. Both of those possibilities have supporting evidence, and it doesn’t really matter which one of them you choose to believe; they lead to the same outcome.

Being consistent af, I will address the first fact(-ish?): as far as I know, no extra material was deemed non-canon, therefore the guide for AW is still a source one can use. Yes, it has some conflicts with the games, but the games have some conflicts with the games, and given the loops, memory issues, and the nature of this story, that has no need for retcons (‘tis just another loop, mate!), I’d say Alan just doesn’t remember his own birthdate and changes it on a whim. Or there might be another reason, drawn from other sources, that have nothing to do with our story.

Honestly, I’m not sure other facts need any clarification; people who will read this surely know a thing or two about Alan Wake. Moving on.

Oh, boy, the weirdest part of this part of the theory is here. We step into the territory of Alans upon Alans. Join me on a glorious adventure of exploring the multialans, because they are plenty, although the juiciest Alans might await us in the second part.

Dark Alan

We will start with the Dark Alan from The Signal and The Writer DLCs. For clarity, I will refer to him as, well, D!Alan, yes, I’m this cheap.

D!Alan is batshit crazy.

D!Alan gave up and allowed the darkness to consume him.

D!Alan is suspiciously similar to the Dark Presence, both in powers and behaviour.

D!Alan is trying to get rid of his rational part, coming off as malicious, but in fact being desperate.

D!Alan doesn’t need a crutch of writing, he can dream whatever he wants and the Dark Place will deliver; more so, we know for sure he was in no state to even touch the typewriter. He can occasionally narrate what’s going on, but it seems to be more about his need to vent.

D!Alan claims that light burns him.

D!Alan is powerful enough to swipe away the Bright Presence (although not without the help of Rational Alan).

D!Alan loves TVs.

D!Alan is bitter and hurt because he was left to die in the Dark Place.

D!Alan is best represented in the cutscene with Hartman, where he agrees that everything that happened was only in his head. As we learn from AWII, being Alan and being trapped in the Dark Place is a fate worse than death.

D!Alan is in control in the DLCs.

D!Alan is one of the most tragic Alans we have across the games. He wants everything to end, and if you listen to his lines, that are not about how his other part will die; it’s heartbreaking. I find those at the end of The Signal, the most revealing:

What did he have left to fight for? He’d lost everything even before he came here. Even his sanity was gone. What was the point? Why had everyone abandoned him to die here?

The loss of everything even before is a bit nuanced: was it about the troubled marriage, burden of fame, inability to write, or something else? Something else will be discussed in the second part. Nonetheless, this line gives me chills. And the last one, I quoted here... well, D!Alan is crazy; he cannot think clearly to realise that, even if he’s right, not much time passed for him to come to this conclusion. The DLCs take place right after the first game, before AWAN, actually long before, since in AWAN Alan states he already learnt how to try to communicate with our world, managed to get annoyed enough with Mr. Scratch, who visited him multiple times, and decided to change the story he was writing. At the end of The Writer we see the name of the next manuscript "Return." It is not the AWAN's "Return," it’s a different story that was sacrificed to save Alice from Mr. Scratch.

D!Alan is not just suspiciously similar to the Dark Presence; he is the Dark Presence of the DLCs. Not only he does what DP!Barbara was doing, he behaves exactly like Scratch—insecure, lost, yearning for love and attention. D!Alan affects the Dark Place the way Scratch does in AWII, and Scratch and Barbara act differently: Barbara uses her innate powers to keep Alan and Alice hostage, banish the Bright Presence from the cabin, or push Alan away from his clairvoyant dream-memory; Scratch just shows up, changing the story to his whims, wrecking everything on his way. Their control is manifested differently; Scratch is a Dark Presence that can create. As is D!Alan, he’s dreaming everything that happens (mostly), and we can see how his state deteriorates through the environment.

D!Alan is surely not writing, on more than one TV we see him laying on the floor, narrating what’s happening or about to happen. This Alan is a Master of the Dark Place. All it needed is just to lose all sanity, reason, and care not about all the rules Alan likes to impose onto himself. First glimpse at why Alan is unable to escape the Dark Place for thirteen years, being perfectly able to do it at any point.

D!Alan also let the darkness in and decided it wasn’t so bad. It can be tied to Alan’s history of substance abuse (who knows what kind of high the darkness can give?). But, no matter why he decided it was nice, after the two Alans reunited in the end, this understanding, lingering feeling surely stayed. Albeit somewhat controlled for the time being.

Rational Alan

After the D!Alan, we surely need to talk about the Rational Alan, opposing the Dark Alan in the DLCs. Following the lazy pattern, I’ll call him R!Alan.

R!Alan is not so dissimilar to Alan. Actually, there are not many differences at all.

R!Alan as well can shape the Dark Place, although way more subtle than the D!Alan.

R!Alan is neither a “Bright Alan” nor a good version of Alan; he’s irritable, bitter, and not a nice person through and through.

R!Alan is assisted by the Bright Presence, who delivers him some of the manuscript pages that turn into words or phrases (of power?).

R!Alan needs to use these words to manifest tools, goods, memories, or entities, but it is unclear if every word originates from the manuscript or even delivered by the Bright Presence. There is a high possibility he dreams some of them himself.

R!Alan created Imaginary Barry to accompany him.

R!Alan could be dreaming some of the environment as well, since there are helpful things around. Barry even warns R!Alan not to pursue the train of thought that Barry himself is from R!Alan’s imagination any further. Probably, because unlike D!Alan, R!Alan has no control over what will manifest and how.

R!Alan is the closest to AWII!Alan: he’s confused, in need of someone to lead him, and knows that somewhere something awaits him, but doesn’t really know what and why. He’s not in control as much as AWII!Alan is not in control.

R!Alan is hopeful, determined and not ready to give up.

R!Alan is quick to ditch Barry if it serves his purpose.

D!Alan and R!Alan are two halves of the one whole, but they are not the opposites in everything, only in a desire or the lack thereof to keep living. Where D!Alan gave up, R!Alan had changed his mind on this, yet he did want to as well after finishing Departure and saving Alice. They are not Good and Bad Alan, they are Rational and Irrational; the only reason I called the Irrational Alan “Dark” is because, take away some of rationality, rules, and care for the future, D!Alan is a Dark Presence, able to create genuine art and control the Dark Place. I guess the implications here are obvious.

There is not much to add, except for—I'll be damned if R!Alan wasn’t an arse for ditching Barry so quickly and easily. Actually, so much so, he, himself, was angry enough about that, he tried to kill himself.

Imaginary Barry

I’ll explain it with yet another Alan in the DLC, the third player in that story: the Imaginary Barry. He is Alan, too; well, a figment of imagination, but it’s the Dark Place, putting it into the Bright Presence’s words, he is as real as anything else there. I will refer to him as I!Barry for clarity, but keep in mind that there is absolutely nothing in his behaviour that is not stemming from Alan himself.

I!Barry is the originator of the “I’M COMPLICATED” meme. Yes, it’s an important fact; I had to put it here. He’s the one to call Alan complicated and then go as far as to call even his memories complicated.

I!Barry literally voices what Alan thinks about the surroundings before Alan does it himself.

I!Barry is the embodiment of Alan’s fear of being alone. There is no game between them, no secret; they both understand all too well that it’s not Barry, it’s a memory, a perception, a guess on how the real Barry would act in some circumstances. And they both are cool with it.

I!Barry comes off as his own man, but in truth, he does what Alan believes he would do, be it a commentary on some nasty noises or an annoying useless advice Alan doesn’t need.

I!Barry is not controlled by D!Alan, he’s R!Alan’s creation, and he’s trying to kill him at the end of The Writer because, as the Bright Presence said, R!Alan has to abandon his delusions.

I!Barry is not the one to be offended by it; Alan is. Every dialogue line in the I!Barry’s Boss Fight is Alan’s guilt for his behaviour.

I!Barry’s Boss Fight in itself is Alan’s desire to have Barry by his side, his internal conflict for having to part ways, even if it’s not the real Barry. And it is his punishment for everything he’s done and about to do.

I!Barry is the first instance of Alan creating someone in the Dark Place who has some amount of agency, a different appearance, and a different voice that we see on screen.

There is not much to add, although I!Barry and some other entities deserve their own explanation, so I will leave it at that. I just need to establish that Alan is capable of creating semi-independent beings with their own appearances and voices that are to the point controlled by him, but not necessarily consciously or in a beneficial way.

AWAN’s Alan

My favourite Alan is, of course, the AWAN’s Alan. He’s the middle point between two madnesses, the result of a clear mind, a clear goal, and thorough planning. All the good stuff. Because I can’t help meself, I will refer to him as Awan (imagine some cute emoji here).

Awan is the most elevated Alan we ever saw on screen.

Awan is the most confident Alan we ever saw on screen.

Awan is a Master of the Dark Place even more than the D!Alan and without any side effects!

Awan can control it to the point where he kinda-sorta learnt quite a lot about the flora, fauna, population, and the ways in which the Dark Place operates, and felt safe there with only a torch and a gun.

Awan was contacting our world intentionally via radio and dreams (and managed to remember it).

Awan’s biggest achievement—he created a threshold with the Dark Place and Someplace, Arizona. Which, if the map doesn’t lie, is quite a distance from Cauldron Lake.

Awan is everything all the Alans we saw strive to achieve.

Awan is determined to change; he wants to be a better man; he acknowledged his flaws and worked on them.

Awan is still a jerk; don’t get me wrong, but he’s trying, alright.

Awan is elevated enough to create, together with Alice, an object of power to destroy Mr. Scratch.

Awan mastered the loop technique not just to follow the breadcrumbs he left for himself, but to the point where he remembers all the loops clearly and acts accordingly.

Awan even managed to make other people remember the loops to have allies.

Awan, obviously, is the most powerful time manipulator, who actually understands what he’s doing. From the Alans we saw on screen, of course.

Awan is the last Alan to be near the Bird Leg Cabin; in fact, Awan drowned it.

Awan might live on his own private island in the Dark Place with Alice.

Yeah, I guess it would be better to address the last point. Quite frankly, we don’t really know what happened between AWAN and AWII, but there is a possibility that the AWAN’s Alan, like Tom Zane, ended up in a personal paradise. For him, it would be a film setting where he met Alice at the end of the story-mode, creating a private island. I mean, not like we have a shortage of Alans for this to be impossible, and let’s not kid ourselves, the AWII Alan is a huge downgrade from the AWAN Alan; there is no explanation of why and how. Why did Awan fall into the spiral of madness and lost all of his elevation perks, why doesn’t he remember anything, where are his torch and gun at the beginning of the second game, why would he need to rob Noir-Casey to have them? It’s a wild idea (or not really), but in one of the manuscripts Alice’s Film described as their salvation, their chance to be together, a tin can with a bit of magic that Alice unknowingly created. And I’m sure, no one will doubt, Alice is capable of creating miracles.

Other than that, not much to add here; I know there is a chunk of people who didn’t play AWAN; obviously, I can’t explain the story and its significance in the first part of a theory about a completely different thing. But everyone who played it and read all the manuscripts will understand what I’m talking about. The change from AWAN's Alan to AWII Alan is too staggering, really.

Finally, we are in the AWII territory for our last Alan for this part.

Noir-Casey

He, as well as Barry in the first game’s DLCs, is a figment of imagination, and he as well is as real as anything else in the Dark Place. I will refer to him as Noir-Casey.

Noir-Casey follows his own set of rules and character traits, because even before the Dark Place, he was Alan’s creation with thought-out and established behaviour.

Noir-Casey, as well as I!Barry, is an embodiment of Alan’s fear of being alone. This time he has no allies from (kinda) without, so he creates one within and doesn’t let go even after Noir-Casey’s deaths.

Noir-Casey acts the way Alan feels he would in given circumstances, unlike with I!Barry they do play the game of Noir-Casey being his own entity, although they do it following the script.

Noir-Casey is the only character, even in the Dark Place, whose thoughts Alan can "read," not only as an inspiration-clairvoyance “match the black and white bubble” scattered around the Writer’s City, but also when Noir-Casey is right in front of Alan.

Noir-Casey, even while confined by the story, knows that he’s just a character, and he is Alan. Frankly, Noir-Casey is not really happy about that, but it is in his character to suffer silently and just keep going.

Noir-Casey knows about the loops, remembers some of them at least, but, again, true to his character and bound by the script, he acts on this knowledge only in certain moments, giving vital information in a way that won’t affect the story (Alan doesn’t react to any of those bomb-drops at all).

Noir-Casey might’ve been created as a helping hand in stopping Alan from writing; every time Alan encounters him, Noir-Casey comes uncomfortably close to killing him. Since and if that was true, things have changed: in the second alley scene, being suddenly shot in the abdomen would actually trigger Noir-Casey to fire back, but he doesn’t.

Noir-Casey in the first alley scene claims that Alan will kill him there loop by loop; what we are shown hints that Noir-Casey is killed by Scratch, the scene is eerily similar to what we can collect from the moment when Scratch gets to the real Casey. Yet Noir-Casey’s wrath is directed at Alan.

Noir-Casey obviously knows more than he lets out. He doesn’t have memory problems and understands a thing or two about the Dark Place, even if he can’t really comprehend it, being a character from the books.

Noir-Casey might be Alan’s regret for killing the PI from his novels, as it was a starting point for everything to go down in his life. Noir-Casey might be Alan’s desire to be tough and move on, ignoring the pain. Noir-Casey constant presence in Initiation can be Alan’s “I’m sorry” and newfound appreciation for the character he once despised.

Noir-Casey in many ways plays the role of the Bright Presence.

Noir-Casey is yet another time when Alan created someone with agency and a different appearance and voice.

Noir-Casey is clearly a literary device for Alan in AWII. It doesn’t really matter how exactly he was manifested: was Alan dreaming about him, reminiscing about the times when everything was sunshine and rainbows, or was he deliberately writing him into Initiation loop by loop; Noir-Casey surely is yet another Alan. Noir-Casey serves few purposes that might or might not have changed since the moment of his creation, and he does a pretty good job at it; what’s interesting is that the character knows and understands more than the writer. And this will come into play after we will talk about yet another set of Alans in the second part.

The hero has a thousand faces and a hopeless path

[spacecow2455]

You know I am honestly surprised that there is an explanation for how Shaw fights fires with a big fluffy squirrel tail roughly the size of her entire body.

Text from the image

"Customized Firefighting Suit" '…highly protective module, for a fireproof experience that can't be beat!' Catching the commercial coming from the shop, two people in the Lungmen Fire Department gear slow their pace as they pass the display window. 'Annoyed because your not-so-ordinary horns puncture your protective layers? Worried because you can't figure out how to stuff that fluffy tail inside your suit?' 'You can trust the 0F-6D Multifunction Protective Suit, the professional's first choice!' 'Sharp tapers, towering ears, soft plumage -- thanks to the 0F-6D's adjustable helmet, you'll always have a comfortable, perfect fit! Special protective horn sheaths designed for Forte, Caprinae, Elafia and more races besides will keep your beloved horns insulated while looking and feeling as good as ever!' 'Whether running rescues or escapes at the scene of a fire, we know the tail is another big concern, but have no fear! With the highly customized tail module, your tail has all the room it needs to flex inside your suit, while coming out shiny and fluffy as it went in! Hate squashing it up to your skin and pulling out a felt mat? No more! ….. 'What, ad got you hooked?' 'A little.' 'How did Shaw handle her tail again?' I think her height only fit our smallest size, but her tail needs the biggest one, if I remember right.' 'For ordinary jobs, she leaves it hanging out of her suit. For heading into fires, she always wears a size up and wraps her tail around her waist.' 'Right, right, that's what I mean. I was busy somewhere else when that fire hit a few days ago, but the reports said there was a gap on the scene so narrow that only someone as short as Shaw could fit through.' 'Don't bring that up. Coiling your tail bloats the suit too much. Shaw went straight in with her tail out because there wasn't enough time. We rescued the people, but her tail…' 'Wasn't she uninjured?' 'You telling me curled hair is an injury?' 'Sorry. I used to be totally clueless about how you saw your horns and tails and all those parts.' 'Well, now she's applied for leave. Put two and two together.' 'I thought she just wanted to chill out for a few days while there were less fires.' 'Dude!' After a moment of silence, the two share a glance, and enter the shop in coincidental unison.

[tricitymonsters]

DAY 9 - Mind Control

Day 9 - Mind Control

Amir x Reader

Content Warning: Consensual mind control, fantasies of being bred, straight up fucking, dom/sub tones

PREVIOUS

You knew Amir had weird powers that allowed him to exert a potent kind of influence on his targets but you didn’t know it was this strong.

Like everything about Amir, what seems beautiful and harmless on the surface is violently dangerous just below where dark depths hide a frightening amount of power.  But of course, you have nothing to fear from him.  Of course, you trust him.  He’s put his neck on the line for you several times and slowly, you’re growing closer to him as he learns to open up to you.

But of course, when you agreed to some horny mind control games you didn’t expect him to exert so much on you… or rather… you didn’t expect it to be SO easy for him.

He simply grabs your chin and levels you with a direct but affectionate stare, the corners of his lips quirking slightly.  You’ve seen him do his mind control trick a few times and just like you expect, you can feel the hazy, magnetic pull start to pick up in strength as Amir injects his will directly into your brainstem.

”Feel good?”

You nod, vision blurring and limbs feeling a little heavy.  Otherwise, however, you note that you do feel fine.  If you didn’t know any better you'd say you were just tired.  But once Amir establishes that link it’s ironclad until he lets go.

And damn him he started slow enough just to give you a false sense of security.

At first, all you could think about is how empty you feel… how bad you need to fill your hole with hot cock with a strength that kind of makes you sweat.  And the most disorienting thing is that while you can still feel that the idea planted in your head isn’t yours, you still feel it with full physical conviction.

An hour passes and Amir’s control has fully taken root.  You’d groveled on your face to be bred for nearly half of it, drunk on images of you stuffed to bloating filled with hot cum, and praised for taking it like you were made to.  After that hour, you’re convinced you were made for it.  Why else would you be babbling insensibly and ardently slamming yourself back on Amir’s dick while you drool and sweat.  Not only is the physical intimacy doing it but Amir’s control has opened the floodgates for every positive neurotransmitter in your brain to flood your whole consciousness with exhilaration and raw joy.  He’s got you bent in half over the bed and you fight the grip he has on your hair not to escape but to fuck back onto him as hard as you can.  You were meant to be full up and every withdrawal has your whole body screaming with the need for him to put it back harder deeper just more more more.

Every time he nails that one little spot inside of you your whole body clenches greedily down on him and the shock of pleasure nearly makes you giggle deliriously.  

You faintly have to hand it to Amir, he’s got a lot of stamina for someone who looks like they prefer to lounge on velvet cushions than exert themselves.  But you can feel his cock swell in you and it sends you into throes.  You need his cum so bad you can’t talk, just moan wetly and grind down on him harder and harder.  Mentally, you’re screaming for him.  Please cum in you, please you need it, you need to be absolutely distended with it so everyone knows, so anyone who looks at you sees a claimed, happy fuckpet doing a good job.

The only downside to these mental plays that Amir so kindly puts on for you is that you still usually remember- in lurid detail- all the deranged horny thoughts he manages to pull from the ether and when you lay next to him, sweaty and exhausted and starting to feel the tinge of embarrassment from post-nut clarity, he simply smirks, kisses your temple, then tells you he’d be happy to broadcast your status as claimed and happy and full of cum if you ever decide on your own that’s something you want.  You feel this justifies hitting him with a pillow.

[oceanblueeyes03]

I see him being similar to LH she had a chance to be huge after PLL. Yes she still has a niche fan base that fight for her, but let's be honest she squandered her time with alcohol and validation with sex from men. Sounds familiar huh. I remember watching PLL and thinking she'd be huge with singing and movies but then just movies that are not huge and no singing career. I do admire her getting help and I think she's now content just working. Tbh I typically watch the cheesy movies she does in my spare time, but I don't seek them out. I liked how open she was on a podcast and again it makes me think L is masking the same way. The BV A still had most her drink his was dry and he was drinking on the way to BV and posted it in his dump. Result we got pictures of them cuddled up and the cheek kiss. And He was most likely was sober on the red carpet and we see how he acted with A. One of the first headlines where him and A were caught was that everyone leaving was drunk and we got the off-center peck and more affection. Over summer you could tell drinking in almost every video. Boss the video inside he'd got a drink and we see the "loved" up display. Plus he's very bloated and red often. He's doing stupid shit. I feel maybe he was high and drunk on papwalk. She basically guided him, gave him the drink with her holding the straw, picked his nose, and he was dead eyes puffy. He was drinking at YB. Then we have HBS sex for validation only not substance. I think he picked A not for substance but from his PR to prove he's a settled man. But his defiance on claiming her and just flying her for you know, but being on N and his actions did not scream taken. He probably got used to having her there for that and why she's still around as that's easiest. Tbh now thinking back maybe that's why she ran the interviews. Remember in Brazil when he was like there is a carriage and he kept toching her like his butt slide and then it seemed N was guiding him out not lovey in my eyes end of night. Him wanting to throw away Colin at first and now begging them back as you need a job. He was/is messy and alcoholics are. Just a few thoughts I've had recently. Sorry so long the examples just kept coming lol.

"While speaking with host, Alex Cooper, Lucy confirmed that alcohol allowed her to be a different version of herself — at some point she even believed it allowed her to be more of her true self — and she enjoyed that."

"For so much of my life, I found I would fill this empty well within myself with validation from men," Lucy said. "So I was like, 'If I sleep with them, I'll get this validation."

I was a PLL fan up until s2 then I got bored 🥱. But I remember reading some drama with LH being a diva and thought she was better than PLL and the guy that played Ezra was also a diva. I remember she said she didn’t want to be known for PLL , but a decade later and it’s still her biggest work. And now she’s changed the script and loves PLL. Not everyone can be Robert Patterson be ungrateful for a job and still be big! Tbr I don’t think she’s that great of an actress.

In Brazil Luke was a horny mess.

He seemed out of it at boogergate

Him wearing sunglasses to watch night fireworks was sus, him getting up all the time during sags, his excessive sweating at BAFTA, a giving him a straw like an elderly man, him eating boogers. I hope we are all wrong, but he has gone down hill. Him last year and now he’s a completely different person, his face is bloated.

Luke lost a huge opportunity.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

Earlier this week, The Onion’s bid to buy Alex Jones’s Infowars fell apart in a manner that was as perplexing as it was depressing. At the same time, Elon Musk was attacking a Chancery Court judge who ruled he couldn’t have his absurdly bloated Tesla pay package of $56 billion. These cases aren’t just similar because they involve two of the more repugnant people in the current media landscape. They’re also both symptoms of a judicial system that is in no way able to deal with right-wingers who have access to mountains of cash and rabid followers they can sic on judges. Back in November, The Onion — also known as “America’s Finest News Source” — won a bankruptcy auction for Infowars and announced a plan to turn it into a “very funny, very stupid” website instead of the misinformation and vitriol-filled hellscape it was under Jones. Infowars was on the auction block because Jones owed the families of victims of the 2012 Sandy Hook shooting nearly $1.5 billion in default judgments for his relentless promotion of the conspiracy theory that the shooting was staged by “crisis actors.”

Rather than pay, Jones filed bankruptcy for three of his shell companies, trying to force the Sandy Hook plaintiffs to accept $10 million, or roughly 0.6 percent of what they were awarded. He then dragged the families through bankruptcy court for two years — after having spent three years fighting the initial lawsuits — but was ultimately required to sell Infowars and other assets via bankruptcy auction to satisfy creditors.

Enter The Onion, whose bid was undertaken with the cooperation of the Sandy Hook families. The Onion’s cash bid of $1.75 million was less than the cash offered by the only other bidder, First United American Companies (FUAC), which bid $3.5 million. Normally, a bankruptcy trustee would be required to accept the highest bid because the job of a trustee is to maximize the recovery for creditors. Here, though, things were more complex than simply awarding Infowars to the highest bidder. First, the Sandy Hook families agreed to forgo some of the damages they were entitled to as a way to increase the value of The Onion’s bid. Additionally, the other bidder, FUAC, is the company that runs Jones’s grifty online supplement store. But neither of these things seemed to matter to US Bankruptcy Judge Christopher Lopez, who on Tuesday threw out The Onion’s bid, saying the auction left money on the table for the families and that the bankruptcy trustee was required to “scratch and claw and get everything you can for them.”

With this, Lopez essentially told families who backed The Onion deal that they couldn’t have the deal they wanted. Instead, they may be forced to accept Jones’s weird and complicated sham deal where he gets to sell to a friendly party he’s already affiliated with, one that almost certainly would allow Jones to continue operating Infowars. If this seems the very opposite of fair and a terrible result for families Jones has victimized, that’s because it is. Lopez’s decision leaves the families in the limbo they’ve been in for years, particularly because he declined to actually rule. Instead, he said he didn’t want another auction and told the bankruptcy trustee to return in 30 days with a plan. It’s a triumph of form over function, of procedural niceties over actual fairness. Now, the question is how much more the families can endure. They spent years being attacked by Jones and his listeners, followed by years of litigation. Besides the fight in bankruptcy court, Jones is also appealing the underlying judgments themselves, saying his free speech rights were violated. Earlier this month, a Connecticut appellate court upheld most of the verdict against Jones, but he’s vowed to take that to the state supreme court. Despite declaring bankruptcy and whining that he’s broke, Jones seems to have ample funds available to weaponize the courts against the families. All the while, Jones has complained that the cases were rigged against him and called the Connecticut judge a tyrant. During the Texas case, another Infowars host showed a picture of that judge in flames.

[...] Delaware Chancery Court Chancellor Kathaleen St. J. McCormick has now twice ruled against Musk, leading Musk to go on X and accuse her of “absolute corruption” and to call her “totally crazy” and a “radical far left activist cosplaying as a judge.” Musk’s fans have joined in, calling her insane. Several dozen law professors and lawyers have asked the Delaware State Bar Association to defend McCormick, in part because the Delaware Judges’ Code of Judicial Conduct prohibits her from speaking out about the attacks. In the future, Musk likely won’t have to deal with McCormick anyway. He’s reincorporated both Tesla and SpaceX in Texas. That state has a new business court with judges appointed by GOP Gov. Greg Abbott and will likely be highly favorable to Musk.

Trump helped normalize attacks on judges

Deep pockets have allowed both Jones and Musk to drag out cases and to go scorched earth against any opponents they face. To be fair, that’s always been the case for rich litigants. But the constant attacks on judges that rule against them — attacks that seem to come with no real consequences — are a product of the Donald Trump era. It isn’t just that Trump was able to exploit the weaknesses in the judicial system for long enough to win the 2024 election, a victory that all but ensures he will never suffer any consequences for his actions, no matter how criminal. It’s also that Trump ushered in a new age and created a permission structure where any adverse ruling from a judge is grounds for personal attacks and cries of corruption.

MAGA influencers Alex Jones and Elon Musk, along with right-wing big money, have intimidated courts with threats and caused supporters to join along.

[ajastu]

ohhhhhh dragon age 2 the game that you ARE.........

where do i even fucking begin.

this game was the first one i ever played in the series, actually. I honestly dont remember how i ended up starting it, but boy am i glad i did!

Really enjoyed the replay, especially all these years later. Kind of hits different now that i, too, am basically a different person compared to when i first played it...

Anyway. some Thoughts in random order under the cut

First of all. i remember why i was obsessed with my Hawke back then...theres just SOOO much to work with, here....started writing out a document of just the main Points about her just so i dont forget anything. almost at 1k words rn. well. me, obsessed with my ocs? the shock. truly unexpected.

Bethany. I love you. but it really does hit way different if u play a mage hawke.

I still think all the companions were banger (except sebastian im sorry to say. i just. cannot bring myself to care about him much. but that might just be bcs i do not vibe with the chantry's whole deal), BUT! i do view them a bit differently now. For example. Aveline girl yuo are so so bad at ur job sometimes actually. And anders...........gaslight girlboss gatekeep etc etc. the levels of toxicity he reaches in act 3 if u question him honestly took me off guard.

I installed a poly mod just so i dont have to like....replay 4 times in a row. and the Canon Tm romance for my hawke is isabela (maybe fenris too? idk im Thunking abt it), and i never actually romanced him before. BUT OH MY GODDDDDDD he really goes full toxic bf on you if you try to ask why exactly he wants you to distract the grand cleric. Honestly wish we could punch him. Like, its irrelevant if hawke agrees with his actions ultimately or not. That behavior alone is enough to drop his ass over.

Wish merrill's story was...given more thought/attention to. felt kind of...incomplete in places? idk. she deserved better, but i also know that the development for da2 was a nightmare, so i do not fault the devs for most of the things that i think could have been done better.

SPEAKING OF. Really really really funny to me that most of the criticism that is being thrown at veilguard could be word for word applied to DA2. Like, what the fuck was with the ghasts 😭

and the combat was just SOOO FUCKING BORINGGGGGGG spawning in basically the same enemies over n over n over n over- im so fucking glad for the mods. what would i do with no mods. Say what u will abt veilguard but at least they dont spawn shit in over n over in EVERY DAMN BATTLE.

Which leads me to. Playtime.

Obviously, comparing da2 and datv is kind of....like. the times are different. There is 13 years in between the two games. The AAA gamedev industry changed a WHOLE lot, and so most of the things that were possible in DAO/DA2 are just not gonna be possible in current times. Most of the standards for AAA games changed.

That said. Da2 felt significantly shorter than DATV, even with the DLC's. And i do realize i skipped a lot of the DA2 Experience Tm by skipping combat, but i think padding the playtime with fighting thru an absolute slog of enemy wave after enemy wave is...less than ideal. so id subtract that anyway.

THAT IS TO SAY. Both games went thru dev hell, but i think there was kind of...more pressure/expectations placed on datv devs in the aspect of playtime length/visual design. So it makes absolute sense to me why they had to simplify the narrative, and why da2 devs were able to make more options available in the narrative by sacrificing map design and the like.

DA2's story is more malleable, but shorter. DATV's story is less malleable, but it's longer. Both games, however, did an excellent job with (most) sidequests. the games did not feel bloated for no reason (khm khm dai khm khm), almost all the sidequests contributed something to the overall narrative, and overall it felt like a very streamlined experience, in the best way possible.

And the stories in both of these games end up being a banger, Despite It All. Honestly. the devs have my undying respect for persevering thru the horrors.

I dont know. overall, i....really fucking loved da2. Even more than before. I have a new appreciation for the tragedy of hawke's story. They lose so much, even if you do your best. There are just people you CANNOT save. And back when i was younger i kind of went I Do Not See at some of these things, being like 'well, in MY head leandra doesnt die 🙄'

But god, that death especially is so integral to everything. also. definitely something to be said about a kind hawke being much more interesting than an uncaring hawke. I know that maybe im biased on this one but like. it takes much much more to stay kind thru it all. the cruelty is easy.

also, a brief aside? while i appreciate the tangled mess of the da2 story, some slavery/racism moments were really like...............trying too hard. like. To the point of caricature. I'm glad datv took a more subtle approach bcs it would have just felt.......idk. cartoonish otherwise. in my personal opinion.

I'm looking at my tier list of DA games n i just. keep trying to deny the fact that dao+da2+datv feel about on the same level now 😭 I dont want to be so rude to DAI. i need to give it another chance. but it really is just. outside of the club rn. well...................ill replay that next. in the name of fairness. and also bcs i just havent done it in a while. please lord tell me theres a skip combat mod for dai-

[badpersonboogie]

🦄 demon!vik 3/3

It takes more effort than Jayce expected to force it in. When the tip does pop in viktors head slams back against the sheets, clamping down so tightly jayce worries it'll cut off his circulation. Viktors little cunt ripples around him, the tip alone being enough to set off his first orgasm. Viktor whines and starts crying in earnest, wiggling and trying to pull himself off. Jayce inches forward, fighting the unbelievable grip of viktors tiny pussy. (Jayce feels something tear apart inside. fuck, Viktor had given himself a hymen, his sweet lil cherry shredded by jayces enormous cock. fuck, he can't hold back any longer) He grabs hold of viktors hips and starts hammering into his undersized cunt. Viktor screams, his hole stretched past what would tear a human in two, fat tears running down his red face. Jayce slips one of his thumbs into viktors mouth for him to suck on, trying to sooth him.

The distention in Viktors belly is almost sickening to look at, his tiny unripe womb being pummeled into submission, crushed by the fat head of Jayces cock. Viktors been trapped in near constant orgasm since the first penetration, squirt spraying out with every thrust, Jayce can feel his own about to hit hard. He shoves himself in as deep and as hard as he possibly can, and feels something give way around him. Jayce's punched through Viktor's cervix. Viktor gurgles in pain around his thumb, his eyes rolling back. his body goes limp and jayce realizes he's genuinely passed out. Jayce moans at the feeling of viktors womb fluttering around him. he ruts up against his uterine walls, using viktors unconscious body like a fleshlight. he sits up on his knees, viktors limbs hanging loose, and takes his hand off him. Viktor just dangles there, unresponsive, hips held up in the air by nothing more than Jayces cock burrowed deeper in his body than it ever should be. Jayces cum explodes out of him, filling viktors womb directly. he imagines his cum gushing into Viktor's fallopian tubes, coating his ovaries and impregnating his tiny body with a baby too big for him bear. it won't happen without viktor letting it, but something to consider for the future.

By the time Viktor regains consciousness, Jayces dumped 8 more loads of sperm into his abused little broodpouch. his belly is so bloated with cum jayce can't even see his dick moving anymore, but the jiggling of viktors cummy tummy more than makes up for it. Viktor made soft moans, unable to catch his breath enough to speak. Jayce would let him up soon, he just wanted to give him one more load of cum, an even 10 in his pussy, and a new personal record. Viktor tries to clench down but he's just too worn out to do anything but lie there. Jayces shows him a little mercy and finishes quickly, petting his rotund little belly for a job well done. He eases out of viktor gently, doing his best to sooth his whimpers of discomfort, and gazed at his handiwork.

Viktor's hole was absolutely destroyed. The sweet little princess pink pussy was now swollen, flushed a dark, angry red and gaping open so wide he could probably get his fist in without any struggle. The edges twitched valiantly but he could hypothesize from previous experience that it would be a least a week before Viktor pussy could tighten itself back up. considering how throughly broken in it was, probably closer to 2 weeks. looking closer he could see his cervix. the poor ring of muscle was bruised and torn, slowly leaking a mixed ooze of blood, cum and viktors own narcotic slick. he hummed and rubbed viktors hip before crooning, "hey, vik, bear down for me, okay? please?" viktor shot him a look and grumbled about having to use his muscles so soon but did as jayce asked.

It took barely any strain. Viktor choked out a gasp at the feeling of his uterus prolapsing. It bulged just slightly out of his ruined hole, his cervix winking at jayce. it was grotesque, wet and slimy flesh throbbing. Jayce had fucked him so hard his womb was falling out and now he could feel his cock getting hard again. he pressed his tip against the little pucker of viktors womb and plunged in. Viktor shrieked like a dying cat and sprayed the bed under him with glowing squirt. More and more of viktors pussy was being turned inside out, Jayce stilled his hips and grabbed hold of it. he jerked it up and down his cock, using his little demons babymaker as a toy. he pulled out and shot one last load of thin, watery cum onto the abused cuntmeat. Viktors womb was completely prolapsed now, hanging loose from his hole. it was gorgeous. Jayce wanted to keep him like this. but viktor was groaning, begging jayce to push it back where it belongs so his body could begin to restore itself. First though, jayce had to address the issue of his cum leaking out. he pulled a plug from their collection in the bedside table and lodged it firmly in viktors cervix. he'd take it out later, eventually.

Jayce was wrong about viktors gape. it takes an entire month to tighten up, and his uterus keeps slipping out the entire time. viktor stays in his young form, refusing to let jayce fuck his pussy until his hole is back to normal. He's happy to oblige his lil demon, after all, now jayce has plenty of time to fuck his tight little ass inside out too.

love viktor being an incubus and this being his idea and jayce wearing him out. they gotta find a way to stay together because i'm pretty sure viktor won't be satisfied by other people ever again. jayce fucked him THAT good

[foundouthatdabiistouyatodoroki]

wait there something that I noticed its in the people in the crowd holding the sign up what did the people mean by the grieving relatives of the victims?

You must referring to this

These are the exact words that Snatch used on dabi 

the words the civilian said this is an excuse in venting there anger on heroes for making them deal with the chaos. They don’t know the truth of what actuality happened and they don’t want to.

On the surface it may seem like moral outrage but if you look deeper you can tell just how bloated there claims are. 

Lets look at the people that dabi burned first 

 the victims that dabi burned most of them were back ally thugs 

and his fights in the MLA arc, 

If the MLA arc was any indication its that he doesn’t attack people who can’t defend themselves. 

Wait, about about the attack on the summer training arc? wasn’t he attacking the students? Dabi didn’t really engage in combat with the students and Looking at the summer training camp he never used up his fire power except when in creating a diversion by distracting the pros and saving compress. Dabi never outright attacked the students he relied on times attacks to get the job done.

We know how calculating dabi is he carefully times his attacks before he fires  he wouldn’t waste his fire power without reason he waits for the right moment and strikes.  

About this,

if we go back to the thugs that dabi burned in the ally way 

if they are relatives of the thugs and judging on the way they threaten dabi the thugs may not have the "best relationship" with the their family's my guess is that they went to the TV for attention.  The whole so called “grieving relatives" don’t care about the deceased they are merely treated the deceased as a plaything to seek attention to themselves. 

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

tired [g.w. x reader]

warnings: depressing

a/n: school's been draining me, so i kinda wrote this for myself.

--

tired.

that was the only feeling that plagued you.

not anger, not sadness, not even joy. it felt as though you had been cursed; stripped of the ability to feel anything. not even a crucio could override this everlasting numbness.

weeks after weeks, fatigue held you in a chokehold, draining every inch and crevice of your body of life; as if a dementor were kissing you.

it was visible in your eyes, the way dark crescents hung lowly neath them. it was visible in the way your hair stuck out every which way, unlike your usual and neat updo. your slouch, your drawl, your strained vision.

every now and then, you wished and wished and wished. you wished until you could barely think of anything more in the world to long for and yearn. and everything in the world seemed to be the ability to enter eternal stasis; frozen in time without a single care in the world - resigned to slumber you would never be woken from.

sometimes, you yearned to place down your quill and burst into flames - then disintegrate into ashes - then a magpie would swoop by and leave a great gust of wind that would blow you away, scattering you into different corners of the world.

just to be free.

OWLS were nearing, and with every second that brought you closer to your first exam, you couldn't help but dread the sound of parchment being crumpled up and tossed, or the smell of ink so strong you could taste it.

you could feel yourself wasting away with the mouldy centuries-old books in the library. every page was rough, rigid, thin, like your skin. meals were skipped, and you could only manage a cup of water. anything else and you were bloated.

it wasn't like you to be in such a ghastly state, and surely enough the people around you noticed. you pushed them away, though. your job at the ministry was at stake if you didn't get all 'Outstanding's, even for Divinations.

a pair of eyes watched over you. bad day after bad day, break down after break down. he watched you, fighting back every muscle and nerve in his body to just run over to you and hug you, telling you life would get better and that OWLS would be a thing of the past - a past you'd look back on and think 'i should've been living'.

the candle burning brightly, magnificently, at your side was getting shorter and shorter, and shorter. the wax was practically overflowing at that point, and had spilled all over the table. the glow of the flame loomed over your face - oh - you looked dead; like a reanimated corpse subjected to hours of scribbling and crumpling and scribbling and tossing until the strings cut and snap - collapsed.

you looked so frail, so small, no bigger than a thumbnail. he could just fit you in the palm of his hands.

'i just want her to be happy.' the boy thought, 'if i could just ease her worries.'

he longed to see the scowl on your face sculpt into a smile.

a smile so bright it brought the sun and stars to shame.

a smile so bright it could light up the world.

he longed to hear your laugh - your laughter that could bring even gods to their knees. and gods, he wished and he wished until he could wish no more.

he longed, and he longed, and he longed, until he was sick of longing - until he got sick of the fluttery deep pits of his stomach twisting and churning.

he just wanted to see you happy. just to see you full of life and not confined to the woes of the world.

he had no control over that, though. he knew it well enough. it was ingrained in him the moment he learned to walk.

he had no control over anything, of course. he was was a weasley. red hair. freckles. hand-me-down robes from myriads of generations ago. what power could he possibly have other than the power over a bludger and a puny firework?

still, he longed for the day you would finally look up and lock eyes with him without your mind being pre-occupied with arithmancy and charms. he could try working his charm on you, but with how you were right now, he was better off flirting with a wall.

so, defeated, he resigned himself to his quill and paper and then -

magic.

of course.

magic was the solution to everything.

he was quick to dip his quill into his well of ink and hurriedly scribble. he then folded it messily into a paper crane - then, with a little tap and a little blow, it flew over to you.

the sound of something landing on your table broke you out of your trance. you were in the midst of writing mountains upon mountains of words that slowly lost all meaning. your eyes darted over to the crane. your face - it softened. what was this sensation? it felt as though all of the muscles in your face, after decades of being scrunched up, had finally jellified. it ached, but soon after, relief came.

you picked it up, carefully unwrapped it and read its contents.

' beautiful girl. i long for the day you smile. all the best for your OWLS. '

then - there it was.

the smile he'd give up the world for.

it was there, and it was brighter than the pathetic candle that struggled to compete with it. no lumos could ever outshine it, and no nox could ever dull it.

beautiful, beautiful, girl, he thought.

he caused that smile.

that smile was his, and his only.

--

[drsuhyunanus]

Suhyun An Breaks Down 7 Surprising Benefits of Chiropractic Biophysics

When most people hear “chiropractor,” they usually think of someone cracking backs to fix a sore neck or lower back pain. But there’s a technique called Chiropractic Biophysics (CBP) that goes way beyond that—and it’s changing how we think about spinal health.

Dr. Suhyun An, who’s been helping patients feel better through CBP, says it’s not just about pain relief. It’s about improving how your whole body works—posture, breathing, digestion, even energy levels. If you’ve never heard of it, here’s what makes it so different—and why it might be worth looking into.

1. It Helps You Stand (and Sit) Taller Without Thinking About It

Let’s be honest—most of us have pretty bad posture. Whether it’s from slouching over a laptop or scrolling on your phone, that constant hunch takes a toll over time.

CBP focuses on realigning your spine to its natural, healthy curve. Dr. Suhyun An points out that this isn’t a one-time fix. It’s a process that retrains your body, so you’re not constantly fighting your own muscles just to stand up straight. The result? You look and feel more balanced without even trying.

2. It Gets to the Root of Chronic Pain

If you’ve been living with neck pain, back stiffness, or headaches for years, you know how frustrating it can be to only get short-term relief. What makes Chiropractic Biophysics different is that it doesn’t just treat the symptoms—it looks at what’s causing the problem in the first place.

By correcting misalignments in your spine, CBP takes pressure off nerves and joints. Dr. An has seen patients finally find lasting relief after trying just about everything else.

3. Breathing Feels Easier

This one catches a lot of people by surprise. When your upper spine is misaligned, it can actually limit how much your rib cage can expand. That means shallow breathing, especially if you sit all day.

Dr. Suhyun An explains that once your posture improves and your spine is more open, your lungs have more room to work. That leads to deeper breaths and sometimes even improvements in conditions like asthma or frequent shortness of breath.

4. You Might Notice More Energy

Here’s something no one tells you: being out of alignment drains your energy. Your body is constantly compensating for imbalances—your muscles are working harder than they need to, and your nervous system is stressed.

When things are properly aligned through CBP, your body moves more efficiently. You don’t waste energy just standing or walking, and over time, many patients say they just feel less worn out.

5. It Can Support a Stronger Immune System

Your spine plays a big role in how your nervous system functions, and that affects everything, including your immune system. When spinal misalignments interfere with nerve signals, it can make it harder for your body to respond to illness or stress.

Dr. An has noticed that patients who stick with CBP tend to get sick less often, recover faster, and just feel more “in sync” overall. It’s one of those subtle benefits that add up over time.

6. It’s Surprisingly Helpful for Digestion

Believe it or not, your spine and stomach are more connected than you think. Certain nerves that control digestion run through your lower back. If those nerves are being pinched or irritated due to poor alignment, you might notice issues like bloating or irregular bowel movements.

Chiropractic Biophysics takes the pressure off those nerves, giving your gut a better chance to do its job. It’s not a cure-all, but it can be a useful part of a bigger plan to feel better from the inside out.

7. It’s a Long-Term Investment in Your Health

Unlike quick-fix treatments, CBP is about creating lasting change. It takes time and consistency, but the goal is to set your body up for long-term health and comfort.

Dr. Suhyun An compares it to maintaining a car, when the structure is sound, everything runs better. Many of her patients say they sleep better, have fewer headaches, and just feel more “themselves” after committing to CBP.

Final Thoughts

If you’re only using chiropractic care to “fix” something when it hurts, you might be missing out on the bigger picture. Chiropractic Biophysics offers a deeper, more holistic approach, focused on posture, spinal alignment, and how your body functions as a whole.

And thanks to doctors like Suhyun An, more people are learning that taking care of your spine isn’t just about pain relief, it’s about living better every day.