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graciedollie · 5 months ago

Note

Grayson x fem plus size s/o slow morning fluff because I hate getting out of bed and I need to cope somehow 🥰💀

Morning Like These

pair: grayson x plussize!femreader

summary: the sun rose in the huey skies of Piltover, casting a beautiful overglow of light in the shared room of you and your beloved wife. The morning felt so perfect already with you clasped in the security of her arms as her face was nuzzled in your neck—morning like these, you loved dearly.

warnings: literally none.

a/n; enjoy bby’s!!! (may or may not be short, who knows with me, so let’s just say this is a drabble :p)

The sun rose in the huey skies of Piltover, casting a beautiful overglow of light in the shared room of you and your beloved wife. The morning felt so perfect already with you clasped in the security of her arms as her face was nuzzled in your neck—morning like these, you loved dearly. You felt nothing security and comfort in the warmness of her arms, holding you gently with a slight hint of firmness. Though it felt such a perfect moment, you didn’t want to get up nor want to get the day started.

It was something simple to do, yeah, but still—you didn’t feel like moving yourself from the warmth of your wife’s arms. You’d rather die.

You felt the way her breath heaved against the skin of your neck, her hips shuffling against your ass and the way her hands slowly trailed down to your stomach—mindlessly tracing over the trails over stretch marks and cellulite. Ever since you and Grayson been together, she’s grown even more obsessed with you; specifically your stomach, ass, and thighs. Not just in a sexual way, she practically worshiped you. She always love the trails of stretch marks tearing up your stomach, thighs, ass, and the swell of your breast. Her eyes would catch your side profile whenever you’d turn away, getting a glimpse of the little double chin that was prominent.

Everything about you was absolutely soaked in love. She even loved the parts you didn’t find pretty. She loved the way you even had stretch marks peeking from your arms, the way your stomach would poke out whenever you would lift your arms over or wore a tight top/dress. In overall, your wife was very much obsessed with you—inside and out. It’s not like you would rather have it any other way either.

A small frown found it’s way to your lips as you thought about all the things you knew you had to get done today and today only. It was gonna be a long day and you knew it, but that still didn’t beat the dread of doing all the hectic errands. Though it was nice to have your wife to tag along with you and she didn’t mind either—if anything, she always managed to get you through the day.

Her warm hand traces soft strokes along the skin of your stomach, feeling the dimples in the plump skin. A mix of a groan and huff slipped from her as she shuffled behind you, holding you close to her with a firm, but gentle grasp. “Mornin’, Love..” She’d murmured with her usually raspy voice, the voice that you forever loved to hear first thing in the morning. You glanced over your shoulder with a loving gaze in your eyes, feeling a warm smile ghosting over the frown that held there. “Mornin..”

“Mm, errand day today I take it?” She gently peppered kisses along your cheek, neck and shoulders with much tenderness and gentleness. Being with Grayson has only made you realize how gentle she really is as with you and you absolutely adored it to the fullest. A small scoff fell from your lips as you rolled your eyes, sulking back into the sheets, “Mhm.”

She gave you a small ‘Mm’ in return as she placed one final kiss to your lips before absolutely peppering your entire cheeks with millions of kisses, earning a giggle from you at the sudden excitement of kisses. “Graysonnn!” You squealed with giggles in between as you turned over to entwine your body with hers, not minding the contrast of your plump body tying with her toned figure. Nor did she mind. It only made her feel comfort just as much as it did with you, especially knowing how safe you felt with her. She was practically your little safe place and you were hers.

“What? Can’t a woman just appreciate her precious, loving, gorgeous, sweetest wife, hm? Must be a crime.” She snarked back with a chuckle as she placed one final kiss to your cheek before pulling away to gaze in your eyes, caressing the plumpness of your cheek. “I never said that, honey.”

“Mhm, right.” A small smirk tugged at your lips as you nuzzled into her cheek, looking at her with pure love and admiration as you murmured, “I just don’t feel like getting uppppp. at. all.” She chuckle at your whiny protest, squeezing your cheek before placing a kiss to your lips. “Don’t be like that, love. I’ll be going with you and we can even stop by that store that you had your eye on, even try that new restaurant.”

Your eyes practically gleaned with renewed optimism and interest, earning a wide, dopey grin on your lips as you quickly pulled her close to smother her face with kisses. “oh i love you sosososooooo much!” She was practically cackling at how you were pretty much showing the usual act of ‘cuteness aggression’. You always attacked her with various kisses and bites, really displaying how much you loved her—well, that was one of the ways you showed how much you cared for her.

“You’re a mess, ya know that?”

“Mhm and you love it.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at the quick remark, placing a firm kiss to your cheek before tracing her thumb over the bottom of your lips, “That I do. Very much so.”

Times like these always made mornings better—even when you didn’t feel the energy to get up and going.

hope you enjoyed this bby’s!! <3

taglist!!

@thesevi0lentdelights

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blackstarlineage · 4 months ago

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The Harm of Physical Discipline on Black Children: A Garveyite Perspective on Abuse, Colonial Trauma, and the Need for New Approaches to Parenting

From a Garveyite perspective, which champions self-determination, empowerment, and the uplifting of Black people globally, the physical discipline of Black children—often normalized in many communities—is a direct result of colonial conditioning, intergenerational trauma, and an internalized acceptance of oppressive tactics. This form of discipline, though widely practised, ultimately hinders the development of strong, confident, and independent-minded Black youth who can lead the charge toward liberation.

This analysis will explore why physical discipline is a legacy of slavery and colonial rule, why it contradicts Garveyite principles of Black self-empowerment, and why alternative methods rooted in respect, understanding, and cultural restoration are necessary.

1. The Colonial Roots of Physical Discipline in Black Communities

Many Black families defend beatings, whoopings, and corporal punishment as “tradition,” but in reality, this practice is a remnant of colonial rule and slavery rather than a cultural legacy of African societies.

Fact: Pre-colonial African societies relied on communal discipline, verbal correction, and rites of passage to instil values in children—not beatings inspired by slave masters.

Example: During the Transatlantic Slave Trade, slave owners brutally whipped and beat enslaved Africans to instil obedience through fear. This method of control was later internalized and passed down through generations.

Example: Colonial governments in Africa and the Caribbean used severe physical punishments to enforce European laws on Black populations, reinforcing a hierarchy of control based on violence.

Garveyite Takeaway: If beating children was an effective and righteous method of discipline, it would have empowered Black people under slavery rather than kept them in a state of fear and submission. If it did not liberate us from white rule, why should it be used to prepare our children for liberation?

2. The Contradiction of Physical Discipline and Black Empowerment

Marcus Garvey’s teachings emphasized the need for strong, independent-thinking, and self-disciplined Black individuals to lead the charge for global African liberation. Physical discipline directly contradicts this vision in several ways:

How Physical Discipline Weakens Black Children Instead of Strengthening Them:

1. It Instills Fear, Not Critical Thinking:

A child who is beaten does not learn why their actions were wrong—they only learn to fear punishment.

Fear-based discipline leads to obedient followers, not revolutionary leaders.

2. It Damages Self-Worth and Identity:

Black children who are frequently hit may internalize self-hatred and associate discipline with violence instead of wisdom.

How can we tell Black children they are kings and queens while treating them like enslaved people?

3. It Perpetuates the Cycle of Oppression

Many Black parents justify beatings by saying:

“I do this so the police won’t have to.”

This statement is an admission that corporal punishment is a tool of white supremacy, used to “prepare” Black children for life under oppression instead of preparing them for liberation.

Example: Malcolm X, Huey P. Newton, and Marcus Garvey were not obedient, fearful children—they were defiant, critical thinkers who challenged the status quo. We need leaders, not people conditioned, to obey authority without question.

Garveyite Takeaway: We must stop preparing our children for submission to oppression and start raising them to become liberators and builders of Black power.

3. The Psychological and Emotional Damage of Physical Discipline

The Scientific and Psychological Evidence Against Beating Black Children

Numerous studies confirm that physical punishment leads to negative long-term effects rather than producing disciplined, successful adults.

Research has shown that children who experience corporal punishment are more likely to:

Develop low self-esteem

Exhibit aggressive behaviour in relationships and society

Struggle with mental health issues like depression and anxiety

Be less likely to challenge authority, even when that authority is unjust

Example: Many Black adults defend beatings by saying, “I was whooped as a child, and I turned out fine.” However, if we examine how much internalized trauma, anger, and distrust exist within the Black community, it’s clear that we did not “turn out fine.”

Garveyite Takeaway: A truly free and empowered people do not need to rule their children through fear—they lead them through wisdom, cultural education, and self-determination.

4. The Double Standard: Black Children vs. White Children

One of the most dangerous consequences of normalizing corporal punishment in Black households is that it prepares Black children to accept violence as normal, while white children are often raised with nurturing and encouragement.

How This Affects the Black Community in the Long Run

White children grow up being told they can achieve anything—Black children are often told they need to be beaten into obedience.

White children grow up to become bosses, entrepreneurs, and leaders—Black children, conditioned through fear, are often expected to follow rules instead of challenge them.

The system punishes Black children more harshly in schools, knowing their own parents won’t fight back against abusive authority.

Example: Black children are three times more likely to be suspended or expelled from school than white children for the same behavior—yet Black parents still tell their children to be quiet, obey, and never challenge authority.

Garveyite Takeaway: Beating Black children does not protect them—it only weakens them while their white counterparts are being raised to dominate the world.

5. A Better Approach: How to Raise Black Children for Power and Liberation

If physical discipline is a product of oppression, then the solution is to return to African-centered parenting methods that build strong, confident, and intelligent Black youth.

Garveyite Alternatives to Physical Discipline:

1. Restoring African Values of Communal Discipline

In African societies, elders disciplined through community correction and mentorship, not through beatings.

Teaching, storytelling, and cultural reinforcement were the primary methods of guidance.

2. Rites of Passage Programs

Black children need structured rites of passage to transition into adulthood, teaching them responsibility, self-discipline, and leadership.

3. Building Self-Discipline Instead of Fear

Encourage critical thinking and accountability instead of forcing obedience.

Teach children to analyze their actions and take responsibility without violence.

4. Lead by Example

Many Black children experience hypocrisy from parents who demand respect but show none.

Children learn from watching—if they see strong, disciplined, and intelligent parents, they will embody those traits.

Example: The Nation of Islam emphasizes self-discipline, structured education, and accountability over beatings, producing many strong, disciplined leaders.

Garveyite Takeaway: We need Black children who think critically, move strategically, and act boldly. This will never be achieved through fear-based parenting.

Conclusion: Breaking the Chains of Slave Discipline

The physical discipline of Black children is not cultural—it is a practice forced onto us through colonial rule and slavery. If we are to build a strong and liberated race, we must break the cycle and return to African-centered, Garveyite principles of discipline through empowerment, knowledge, and cultural restoration.

Final Thought

Marcus Garvey did not build the UNIA by beating his followers into submission—he inspired them through discipline, knowledge, and leadership. If we want strong Black leaders in the future, we must raise children who are strong in mind, not just fearful of punishment.

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opencommunion · 1 year ago

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"When the oppressor makes a vicious attack against freedom fighters because of the way that such freedom fighters choose to go about their liberation, then we know we are moving in the direction of our liberation. The racist dog oppressors have no rights which oppressed Black people are bound to respect. As long as the racist dogs pollute the earth with the evil of their actions, they do not deserve any respect at all. And the rules of their game, written in the peoples’ blood, are beneath contempt.

The oppressor must be harassed until his doom. He must have no peace by day or by night." Huey P. Newton, "In Defense of Self Defense," 1967

#resistance #turtle island #library

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mariacallous · 5 days ago

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In the summer of 2008, I was 19 years old, halfway through college, and an aspiring poet with a notebook full of earnest stanzas of questionable quality. I loved writing. I loved literature. As I considered what sort of career might suit me, I became curious about the life of a book editor. So I made my way to New York City for an internship I had received at a major publishing house. Joining me were four other interns—two Black women and two Asian women. The idea was to open industry doors to students from backgrounds underrepresented in the field.

I felt primed for the experience, fresh from a transformative college course that introduced me to the history of Black American letters, anchored by The Norton Anthology of African American Literature. Published in 1996 by W. W. Norton and edited by the scholars Henry Louis Gates Jr. and Nellie Y. McKay, the book traversed three centuries of writing, from the Negro spirituals of the 18th century to the poetry and prose of the late 20th century. This was the volume, many said, that had assembled and indexed a Black American literary canon for the first time. Toward the anthology’s close, I found myself spellbound by Toni Morrison’s 1973 novel, Sula, and intrigued by a single line in her biography: Not long after she published her first novel, “Morrison became a senior editor at Random House.”

I’d never known that Morrison had straddled the line between writer and editor. Perhaps naively, I hadn’t envisioned that someone could do both jobs at once, especially a writer of Morrison’s caliber. And I didn’t know then how many of the writers who surrounded her in the Norton volume—Lucille Clifton, June Jordan, Leon Forrest, Toni Cade Bambara—as well as figures beyond the anthology, such as Angela Davis, Muhammad Ali, and Huey P. Newton, had relied on Morrison to usher their books into the world. I certainly did not appreciate how dynamic—and complicated—both the art and the business of those collaborations had been for her.

Now readers can discover Morrison the bold and dogged editor, thanks to a deeply researched and illuminating new book, Toni at Random: The Iconic Writer’s Legendary Editorship, by Dana A. Williams, a scholar of African American literature and the dean of Howard University Graduate School. Decades of path-clearing and advocacy had preceded the Norton anthology, and Morrison, as the first Black woman to hold a senior editor position at the prominent publishing house, had played a major part. In a 2022 interview, Gates remarked that Random House’s hiring of Morrison, at the height of the civil-rights movement, was “probably the single most important moment in the transformation of the relationship of Black writers to white publishers.”

A pronouncement like that runs the risk of hyperbole, but Williams’s meticulous and intimate account of Morrison’s editorial tenure backs up the rhetoric. How Morrison handled the pressures of wielding her one-of-a-kind influence is fascinating—and, in retrospect, telling: As an editor, she was not just tenacious, but also always aware of how tenuous progress in the field could be. And it still can be: The recent departures of prominent Black editors and executives who helped diversify publishing’s ranks after George Floyd’s murder in 2020 are a stark reminder of that.

Morrison’s arrival at Random House in the late 1960s, a fraught and fertile moment, was well timed, though her route there wasn’t direct. She was born Chloe Ardelia Wofford in 1931 in the midwestern steel town of Lorain, Ohio, to parents who, like so many millions of Black Americans in that era, had fled the racial violence of the South in search of safety and economic opportunities farther north. They recognized their daughter’s brilliance early (as did teachers) and began scraping together money to make college possible. Morrison went to Howard, majoring in English, minoring in classics, and throwing herself into theater. After getting a master’s degree in American literature from Cornell University and teaching at Texas Southern University, she went back to Howard in 1957 and spent seven years in the English department. She joined a writing group, whose members loved some pages she shared about a young Black girl who wishes her eyes were blue—the seeds of her debut novel, The Bluest Eye.

Morrison also married, had a child, and divorced, before returning home to Ohio in 1964, pregnant and in search of a new start. One day not long after, three copies of the same issue of The New York Review of Books were accidentally delivered, carrying an ad for an executive-editor job at a small textbook publisher in Syracuse that had recently been acquired by Random House. Morrison’s mother said the mistake was a sign that she should apply. Morrison’s first novel was still several years off, and she needed a steady job that would allow her to focus on her writing in the evenings. She was hired and spent a few years at the publisher before it was fully absorbed by Random House, one of whose top executives had been struck by her intellect and editorial adroitness. She was soon offered a job as an editor on the trade, or general interest, side. She accepted.

Amid racial upheaval and widespread student protests, Black studies and African studies were on the rise, transforming how the history, literature, and culture of the Black diaspora were taught. “I thought it was important for people to be in the streets,” Morrison later said. “But that couldn’t last. You needed a record. It would be my job to publish the voices, the books, the ideas of African Americans. And that would last.”

Her galvanizing insight as an editor was that “a good writer,” as Williams puts it, “could show the foolishness of racism,” as well as the many facets of Black life, “without talking to or about white people at all.” Morrison came to appreciate the power of directly exploring the inner and outer dimensions of Black life as she edited two groundbreaking anthologies: one that brought together some of the best African fiction writers, poets, and essayists, Contemporary African Literature, and another called The Black Book, which documented Black American history and daily experience through archival documents, cultural artifacts, and photographs. A frustration with the focus she found in the work of some homegrown Black writers also shaped her thinking. As she said later,

I realized that with all the books I’d read by contemporary Black American writers—men that I admired, or was sometimes disturbed by—I felt they were not talking to me. I was sort of eavesdropping as they talked over my shoulder to the real (white) reader. Take Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man: That title alone got me. Invisible to whom?

Morrison recognized, Williams writes, that this “editorial aesthetic” of hers made her work harder. Famous for giving its editors unusual freedom, Random House was all for unearthing new writers and creating a new readership. Still, reaching a general audience remained a trade publisher’s mandate. A salesman at a conference once told Morrison, “We can’t sell books on both sides of the street”: There was an audience of white readers and, maybe, an audience of Black readers, he meant, but those literary worlds didn’t merge. “Well, I’ll just solve that,” Morrison decided. She was determined to “do something that everybody loves” without losing sight of her commitment to Black readers.

To pull off that feat, Morrison’s mode was to be relentlessly demanding—of herself, her authors, and her Random House colleagues. She tailored her rigorous style to the varied array of Black writers she didn’t hesitate to pitch to her bosses. But whether she was editing her high-profile nonfiction authors—Newton, the Black Panther leader, and others—or largely unknown and highly unconventional fiction writers, among them Gayl Jones, her protective impulse stands out.

As they worked on their books with Morrison, Newton as well as the activist Davis resisted the pressure to lean into the sort of personal reflections the public was curious about, and she supported them, while insisting that their thinking be clearly laid out. For Newton’s 1972 collection of writings, To Die for the People, that meant tossing weak early essays and reediting the rest, even those that had already been published. But her aim was not to present his ideas “all smoothed out,” Williams writes. Morrison emphasized that “contradictions are useful” in accurately tracing the evolution of the Black Panther Party away from a focus on armed revolution and toward the goal of creating social infrastructure within communities, offering programs such as free breakfast for students. She felt that a reflective Newton should emerge from the book’s pages. Aware of the public narrative that positioned the Panthers as unhinged, violent racial nationalists, Morrison encouraged him to describe “what he believes are errors in judgment in the Party line behavior.”

She worked more intimately with Davis, whom she sought out right after Davis’s acquittal on charges of murder, kidnapping, and criminal conspiracy (resulting from a courthouse raid in which guns that were registered to Davis were used). For a time, Davis even moved in with Morrison and her two sons, then living in Spring Valley, New York. As they progressed through what became Angela Davis: An Autobiography (1974), their friendship seems to have made Morrison fiercer in deflecting calls for more personal revelation (which she considered sexist code for sensational romantic-life details). She bridled at one reader’s report asking for, among other things, more signs of Davis’s “humanness” in the draft. In a memo to Random House’s editor in chief, Morrison remarked that humanness is “a word white people use when they want to alter an ‘uppity’ or ‘fearless’ ” Black person.

At the same time, she pushed Davis for more vivid storytelling, and less academic vagueness in her account of her political life, her time in prison, her trial. At one point, Morrison chided her that “humanity is a vague word in this context,” evidently referring to Davis’s discussion of incarceration:

You repeat the idea frequently throughout so it is pivotal. “Breaking will” is clear; forcing prisoners into childlike obedience is also clear; but what is erode their humanity. Their humaneness? Their natural resistance?

Morrison bore down on publicity for the book too, famous though its author already was. She secured a blurb from the well-known British leftist Jessica Mitford, who wrote about prison reform too. Still, Morrison’s commitment to Black readership was unrelenting, and Random House arranged to provide hosts of book parties for Davis in Black communities with copies at a 40 percent discount. The party conveners could sell them at regular price and keep the profit.

Always on the lookout for new talent, Morrison asked friends who taught in creative-writing departments to send promising work by their students her way. In 1973, she dug into a box of manuscripts sent by the poet Michael Harper at Brown University. The writer was Gayl Jones, then in her early 20s, and Morrison was stunned by her narratively experimental prose. “This girl,” she felt, “had changed the terms, the definitions of the whole enterprise” of novel writing. Morrison, confessing that she was “green with envy,” immediately set up a meeting with Jones and soon persuaded the higher-ups at Random House to give her a book deal. She and Jones turned first to the draft of a novel titled Corregidora, which tackled the sexual exploitation of women entrapped in slavery, and its psychological and spiritual toll, in a more devastating and effective way than Morrison had ever encountered.

Spurred on by her fervent belief in Jones’s talent, Morrison was determined to ensure that Corregidora made an impression, well aware of how a successful debut could define a fiction writer’s career—particularly that of a Black woman fiction writer. She set exacting standards, bluntly calling Jones out when she thought she was taking shortcuts: “For example, Ursa’s song ought to be a straight narrative of childhood sexual fears,” she wrote to Jones, and went on: “May Alice and the boys—the fragments are really a cop out. You know—being too tired or impatient to write it out.” Understanding how shy Jones was, Morrison joined her for interviews and used her own literary capital (Sula had recently appeared to acclaim) to advocate for her work. “No novel about any black woman can ever be the same after this,” Morrison declared in a 1975 article in Mademoiselle.

Two years later, with the publication of Song of Solomon, Morrison also saw how her stature could get in the way. “In terms of new kinds of writing, the marketplace receives only one or two Blacks,” she later lamented in an interview in Essence magazine, wishing that the books she edited and published sold as well as the ones she wrote. In 1978, after the publication of Jones’s second novel, Eva’s Man, and a story collection, White Rat, Morrison’s once-close relationship with her unraveled amid mounting tensions with Jones’s partner; he had begun to represent Jones, and his behavior had become ever more erratic and aggressive.

By then, Morrison had just published a second novel by Leon Forrest, whose debut, There Is a Tree More Ancient Than Eden, had been a daunting, and thrilling, foray into novel-editing for her, back at the start of the decade. Together they had worked on an introductory section, describing the novel’s large cast of characters, not just to help readers but to orient Morrison herself as she went through the whole manuscript—and to get Random House’s editor in chief to offer Forrest a contract. With a foreword by Ralph Ellison (Morrison saw that two pages of comments he’d sent in would serve that purpose well), the novel was hailed for its risk taking and, Williams writes, for dwelling “in Blackness without reducing Blackness to an object of racism.” Though Forrest’s books lost money, Morrison’s support never wavered, and Random House, following her lead, stuck with him.

After scaling back on editing for a while, Morrison officially left Random House in 1983. She was eager to stop working on her fiction at night and “in the automobile and places like that,” she joked, and also to stop feeling “guilty that I’ve taken some time away from a full-time job.” The hard-driving editorial mission that had defined nearly two decades of Morrison’s life had never been peripheral for her—and hindsight reveals what a versatile catalyst she’d been in American literary culture. Though her departure was a boon for her own writing, it came at a cost. The number of Black authors who were published by Random House nose-dived after she left.

That probably didn’t come as a big surprise to Morrison. Seven years earlier, speaking at a conference on the past and future of Black writing in the United States, she had a message for the audience of major Black writers and critics: Don’t expect structural racism within and beyond publishing to disappear—but also don’t let that stop you. “I think that the survival of Black publishing, which to me is a sort of way of saying the survival of Black writing, will depend on the same things that the survival of Black anything depends on,” she said, “which is the energies of Black people—sheer energy, inventiveness and innovation, tenacity, the ability to hang on, and a contempt for those huge, monolithic institutions and agencies which do obstruct us. In other words, we must do our work.”

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ricksdirtyarchive · 2 months ago

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P*rn st ☆r 📸

Smut - Master List

Kinks: watching, slight humiliation

You sat in a chair in the garage. Wires connected to your head. You were fast asleep and slumped over as Rick worked on your arm. You had begged him for weeks for a bionic arm. He finally caved.

You had died some streaks in your hair cotton candy blue to match his, he was obsessed with it. You carried around your own flask, carrying in in your surprisingly deep back pocket. The only thing you didn't do was dress like Rick. You stayed steady in your straight legged jeans and a black long sleeve compression crop top, every now and then finding comfort in a space suit.

He was obsessed with you. So obsessed. He loved the way you dressed. The way you smelt, the way your (h/c) hair color looked with its blue streaks. Your voice was slightly Raspy from a concert you took summer to last night.

"Okay garage, wake her up" Rick ordered.

"Yes Rick" it responded. Your eyes Fluttered open. Excitement quickly flooding into them.

"So?"

"Go go gadget laser pistol" your arm opened revealing a small tube. "Aim at Mail box" it aimed at the mailbox and shot once.

"That is so fucking cool!!!" You exclaimed happily. "Thank you Ricky! You're the best" you hug him tightly.

"Yeah *burps* whatever" he said hugging you back. "What do you say we go to the GloppyDrop system and get some Ice Cream? I feel like eating quality ice cream and not Earths Cold Stone" he unhooks you from the machine.

"I'm game" you say. "Morty, Summer, we're going for Ice Cream" You say into the house. Footsteps soon followed and soon enough you guys were piled into the ship.

"*burps* hey guys, crazy idea but wanna get trashed on an alien planet?" Rick asks.

"U-u-uh I don't know Rick. M-mom and dad would be mad" Morty says unsure.

"Umm hells yeah! Let's lick tits!!" Summer exclaims. Rick and Summer look at you, the final vote.

"Who wants to get riggedy riggedy wrecked!!!!" You exclaimed. As Summer cheered.

"That's my girl" Rick exclaimed veering off into a different direction.

~1 hour later~

You and Rick were going shot for shot. His hands rubbing your thighs while you took your shot. His eyes wandered down your body. That shirt you were wearing was driving him insane right now.

"What?" You giggle drunkly.

"You just look so *burps* hot" he answers. "I can't fucking w-w-wait to bring you home" he adds. He downed a shot. Summer was dancing on a table with random aliens, her eyes a huey blue color, probably from K-flax. Morty sat by a few alien woman. Talking freely.

"Oh yeah, Rick Sanchez?" You reply.

"Oh yeah, (y/n) Sanchez" Rick smirks. He wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. His slender fingers closing tightly. "Mmm, if that pussy tastes as good as those lips, I might be done for" Rick declares.

"I wanna order another round of shots" you mumbled.

~3:00 am~

You and Rick drunkly stumbled into your bedroom. Your dad was out visiting your aunt so the whole house was yours.

"Mm" Rick hummed as he kissed you. "I love your kisses" he pushes you back into bed. You ripped your own clothes off, sitting naked in front of him.

"Mmm Rick" you moan lightly.

"Touch yourself." He orders. You spread your legs, lightly rubbing your pussy. Small circles making your body groan in pleasure. "Faster" you obeyed him. Moving your hand faster, wetness starting to drip from your pussy. Rick sat back, watching as you played with your pussy. Satisfaction playing on his lips.

"Oh god" you whimper. Your pussy burning with need. You looked at Rick, your pleading eyes bearing into his soul. Ugh my dick hurts Rick thought to himself. Reminded that he was throbbing in his pants he looked down briefly to see his cock imprint.

"Finger yourself baby" Rick tells you. Your eyes wide as you put a finger in your pussy. You rolled your hips. while a guttural moan escaping from your depths. A sound he didn't know you could make. His eyes widened, the scene of you was so hot.

"Oh Rick" you moaned sinfully. You had a look of desperation on your face, mouth drawn in agony, your eyes watering slightly at the pleasure.

"Faster" He groaned. His own dick leaking precum. He wanted to torture himself with your pleasure. You were pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy. Your stomach did flips while your pussy contracted around your pussy. Oh how he needed to touch you.

"Oh I'm gonna cum" you gasp.

"That's it baby. Cum for daddy" Rick sat forward, watching you unfold in front of him. "That's daddy's good girl" he praised. "Keep doing that." He coaxed you to your orgasm.

"Oh fuck" you cried, your body was spasming. Shaking with pleasure. Your orgasm waves bringing you to tears. Whimpers and moans filling the room.

Rick stood, dropping his pants and letting his hard cock breathe. He took one look at you and pushed his cock in.

"Oh Rick" you moaned as he fucked you. He was already so worked up that he wouldn't last long but he wanted to feel your pussy.

"That's it baby, just take it" Rick coaxed as you whimpered into his lips. He slammed into you, his balls slapping against you.

"Mmmph" you groan. Your legs closing around him.

"Oh f-fuck, I'm gonna fucking cum" he says. His pace grew sloppy and inconsistent, he ripped his cock out letting his cum spray your body as he groaned with each stroke. His own body spasms and he goes brain dead. "Oh shit" he whimpered as he emptied himself out.

He grabbed some wipes off your desk. You sighed in content as he cleaned you off. He tore off his own clothes and got into bed next to you. You snuggled into him as you both relaxed in each others presence.

"I love you" you whispered quietly.

"I love you" Rick whispers in response. He kissed your head before letting himself fall asleep.

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axoqiii · 2 years ago

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Ooh, could you please do Huey, Violet, and Boyd hanging out in the Clean Environment palette?

im so sorry this one took so long !! here they are :P

#gooooo woodchucks!!!!!!!#i literally could not get the color palette to work but i hope it doesnt look too. off 😭#thabk u all for the asks !!! ill probably take a break from that for now ^_^#ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #violet sabrewing #huey duck #boyd gearloose #my art #asks #color palette challenge

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covid-safer-hotties · 6 months ago

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this might sound stupid or like i'm making it up, and i'm really sorry about that, but i have genuinely no one else to talk to about this. i live in a very conservative area in florida. i don't leave the house often (i can probably count on one hand the amount of times i leave the house per month) because i'm disabled and can't work. i'm also mixed, fat, and nonbinary, so i kind of have a target on my back in public already. i've been threatened multiple times for masking in public. there was even one time where an older white woman followed me around in the grocery store and started coughing at me on purpose. i honestly don't know what to do at this point. do you have any advice for this? it's okay if you don't, i just figured i would ask. i just feel generally very unsafe. i couldn't even get the most recent booster because i made an appointment at CVS (the only place that takes my insurance) and when i showed up, they told me they were all out of it and to leave. i'm scared.

It may not be what you want to hear, and it may feel odd to comprehend, but Florida has permitless consealed carry, right? If that's so, it's your constitutional right to own and carry a firearm for self defense. I know theres some Socalist Rifle Associations out that way that would be willing to point you to resources and maybe even help you get armed if that's a course you decide to take. Put simply, loudmouths and braggarts tend not to mess with someone with someone who has a pistol holstered in their pants.

Taken from the Black Panther Party's Ten Point Program:

Self Defense The Panthers decided to take up their constitutional right to carry arms and to implement Malcolm X’s philosophy of self-defense, by patrolling the police. They did this at a time when severe police brutality was common – the police would beat down and kill Blacks at random. They would even recruit police from the racist south to come and work in the northern ghettos. On one occasion, whilst on patrol, they witnessed an officer stop and search a young guy. The Panthers got out of their car and went over to the scene and stood watching their guns on full display. Angrily, the policeman began to question them and tried to intimidate them with threats of arrest. But Huey P. Newton had studied the law intimately and could quote every law and court ruling relevant to their situation. Huey stood there with a law book in one hand and a gun in the other and told the “pigs” about his constitutional right to carry a weapon as long as it was not concealed. He told them about the law and said that every citizen had the right to observe a police officer carry out his duty as long as they stood a reasonable distance away. And he told them about the Supreme Court ruling which defined that distance. A crowd gathered and watched this whole scene in amazement. The Panthers made it clear that they were not looking for a shoot-out and that they would only use their guns in self-defense. They took the opportunity to distribute copies of their ten point program, inform people of the Panthers ideology and invite them to their political meetings. Meanwhile, the flustered and nervous cop took the opportunity to get the hell out of there. The gun had a huge psychological effect, both on the Black community and the police. For the police, it reversed the fear that they so enjoyed creating in others. But for the Black community, it fired their imagination, people felt empowered by seeing Black brothers and sisters protecting their interests. There were two sides to the carrying of guns though, most people saw it as a positive move but others were put off by the militaristic image. On the other side, many brothers in particular, came to the Panther office purely for the gun, the Black uniform – the whole image. When this happened, the Panthers would simply explain that the Black struggle was about a whole lot more than just picking up the gun: it was about educating yourself and then others, about organizing the community programs, selling the newspaper and serving the people. At the same time, they would get the brother to work in the nursery for a while, looking after the children while other members went out on party business. In this way, they tried to make sure that people understood the Panther ideology and that they got a balanced view of what it was all about.

While Newton is discussing their ends here to fight and defend against racism, you can apply some of the same philosophy of self-defense for yourself in regard to covid safety. The biggest part is being brave, and that can be tough, but it can be learned.

I want to be clear, I'm not asking you to go shoot people who give you shit. I am saying that the presence of a firearm will temper their response. Someone gives you shit about your mask, you just casually let them get a glance of the grip of your gun. Having to deal with simliar shit as a trans woman, it's amazing how many jerks turn into cowards when they see something weapon-shaped in my purse. Non-lethal options include pepper spray, knuckle-dusters, extensible batons, and stun guns. Wasp spray is a cheap and painful option as well, but a bit clunky to carry. It makes up for that with range: Some cans spray up to 30 ft. Aim for the eyes. Find what works for you and keep it on you.

Also practice: Be sure you can use your self-defense gear when you need it. Especially if someone puts hands on you, do not be afraid to use it. The threshold for assault begins at unwanted contact. Some preperation will help to keep you safer if you're ever attacked again, and having the ability to deal with escelations will give you beter capacity to endure people's childish abuse. Even if you go the non-lethal route, the SRA would be a good place to find self-defense community that won't assault you for protecting your health.

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fisheito · 10 months ago

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wanted to get my thots about mirage of scales in one place so let's go thru this thang again and see if i can ,like, feel things

(gonna list my highlights of each story section so yes, it's gonna be. long.

FIRST OF ALL, WHAT A POWERPLAY TO SHOW US THE SCALE RELIC AS EACH PART OF THE EVENT PROGRESSES ooooh i was getting so excited when the relic was clearing up but they HURT ME IN THE SECOND HALF

WHY IS IT TURNING BLUE. NO. NO DO NOT DO THIS . DO NOT !I SWEAR TO DDOG MAKE IT GO BACK *bacskspacebackspacebackspace*

then Scales-13 is sitting there all glittery and sooo pretty upon a plush purple cushion like wooow isn't that nice?? look! we made the scale so shiny and vibrant and it's got lively streams of beautiful wisps-- NO SHUT UP DON'T HSOW ME THAT 😭i'M GONNA THROW THAT THING BACK INTO THE SEA (now i'm wondering why they made the final cushion purple. i mean, yes, purple simply does not miss, and it is the most regal of hues, but also. puplelkl? kuya? he's propping up umi in his last act? hm. hmm.)()

Let's get tooo ittt

SCALES - 1

Eiden, yaku, and oli looking for recipes together = me kicking my legs and giggling, looking adoringly, eyes sparkling, soaking in the warm softness and comfort of it all, rolling around in my eternal fascination for finding new things to eat

kuya: lol u thought *(kicks down the fluff with his chunky heels* yakumo: {={pP=P=PPEOPLE EAT YOKAI MEEEAT????!??!?!! kuya: :) oli: dont be scare lil buddy it's just an outdated rumour 💦 kuya: bet u they used to eat them with forks made out of their victims' spines yakumo: {{{{SHAKING}}}}}}

I SWEAR THE MOMENT I SAW THEM INVITE OLIVINE

I KNEW LOGICALLY THAT THEY WEREN"T GONNA HAVE OLI IN THE EVENT BUT IDK MY DISBELIEF WAS SO SUSPENDED AND MY DREAMS WERE SO LOFTY THAT MY HOPE SOMEHOW SKYROCKETED AND I GOT SO EXCITED FOR OLI TO SAY YES

CURSE YOU UNSPECIFIED TEMPLE THINGS!!!! TKAING MY JOY AWAY!!!!

nvm my joy returns thanks to the hilarity of oli's referral i like to think that these two developed a mutual understanding during elysium so oli , with a respecvt for kuya, offers him up as a worthwhile companion..? alternative.lyy, oli trolling like, i don't want kuya stirring up trouble without eiden around (because the universe knows how much of a sulk he'll go thru without his fave plaything around) and the old man is just fidgeting in the corner looking so bored and jUST waITING for someone to invite him on a little trip so why don't i take initiative here ✨✨ invite him for you ✨✨✨

maybe one day i'll get a yakuyoli event11..... one... one day.......... *deflates(*

SCALES - 2

surprised that peepaw endured an entire boat journey without setting the thing on fire. my headcanon that he gets seasick or whatever is shot down. alas. he CAN stand on a boat and not vomit all over the poopdeck. my jokes are in shambles. fine. maybe he got better after all his boat trips with huey. you win this time, foxyboy......

once again, my stupid little optimism was sOOOOOO glad to have the village chief interrupt the villagers hostility to be like "heeeyyy it's ok.... we're not used to strangers but we should let these guys help with the ceremony" i went, oh!!! maybe the elder is indeed wiser than the masses!! and he'll help talk sense into these xenophobic ppl!! ahahaha. oh, me. naive as the snake....... anywa.y.

eiden, i love you for being such an excellent mediator. you speak for the shy but easily shutdown-able yaku and the "first resort: burn it down" lavender diva. thank you for existing, and being here, and knowing words. lov e u. mwah.

SCALES - 3 i ahte these villagers but i love their fabricular gifts unto us (the event outfits) amen. thanks. brb getting yakumo that light rainproof jacket that he will surely need because he's cold all the time probably .

i am now of the belief that not ALL the vilalgers were pure megadouches. some of them had the foresight to offer *just the right* fits for the three of them. Or maybe they just grabbed 3 vaguely-similar-sized outfits and threw them at eiden, who then got to choose which one kuya/yakumo wore ..... what if it ended up switched and kuya got the fish bikini abnd yakumo got the fluttery deity gear? ...gonna think about that for a while.

SCALES - 4 once again, i was delusional when i thought that kuya was the one to jump into the water to save the kid. inhuman speed? yeah sure kuya can do that! saving a child? uhh,, maybe kuya would do that... if there were no witnesses? saving a human child? uhhhhhhhhhhh ok maybe not kuya why did i even think it would be kuya. he's got his fancy threads on (that eiden might have handpicked) . no way is he getting those wet

it's cvuzz i didn't expect THEIIS THIS!!!!!!

BRO WHAT YALL NEVE R MAKE NPCs LIKE THIS by which i mean this guy is protagonist coded and yall have only been making neutral-to-evil NPCs with a few exceptions lik.e. water consul. l(whispers: love u) so now you're presenting me with NPC, who has a FACE, and FEATURES, and just SAVED A RANDOM CHILD, AND HE'S BEAUTIFUL? ofdmgidrefgsjidokrdglsjrdhgsoliioldjeiuirhedkjsda let me stare at him please can i add you to my collection i promise i'll give u only the qualityest of feed. what do u want. bloodworms? live snails? fresh crab? I'll fight those crabs for you. i'll pick their finicky flesh from their carapace. whatever you want i'll get it for you

i'll never tire of this, btw. eiden, who is just a guy, trying his best to be approachable and nonintimidating with gorgeous dudes decorating him like a wreath. it's fine. everything's normal. no need to be alarmed, hydrodynamic stranger

and for the second time this event, yakumo's yokai sense tingles and kuya offers a (patronising?) "GOOD FOR YOOOOUUUUU guess you're not completely human-washed after all"

SCALES - 5 girl, what?

for a solid minute i thopught we got ourselves into another cult situation like, lining yakumo and eiden up for human sacfirice or smth. toss em into an active volcano style i just thought PLEASE SIR NOT THIS AGAIN WE CANNOT LET YAKUMO BECOME A CULT MAGNET HE'S GOT ENOUGH TRAUMA FROM THAT

....then they end up just putting their hands on the fish scale to make a wish and i feel a bit of relief that this isn't going into maiden sacrifice territory

THE SCREAM I SMERCEAMT

IT"S HAPEPPPNIGNINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG THE SCALES ARE OUTTTTTTT NO WAY YOU GONNA PUT KUYA AND YAKUMO IN AN EVENT TOGETHER AND NOT TOUCH ON THEIR ANIMAL SIDES I WOULD RIOT YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY BETTER ALSO TOUCH ON THIS IN THE INTIMACY ROOMS YOU CAN'T JUST CREATE A SPRITE FOR THAT AND NOT USE IT OUTSIDE THE STORY I'M ONTO YALL YOU'RE GONNA COME THROUGH I JUST KNOW IT YESSAAAHSHSHSHHHH o wait yakumo's in pain and the villageres are about to berserk ok focus stop projecting into the whateer we gotta FOCUS ahahahaha look at em scramble around all scared of scaly yakumo

no. go back to being panic. no brazen. do not eene cen THINK o fit

[[they surround yakuei]] NOT THIS AHGTIJT AGAIN oh thank heavens ok at least the village chief is semi reasonable . not immediate bloodshed. we're fine. probably.

SCALES - 6 eiden: yakumo!! how are you feeling!! that relic really messed you up, huh? yakumo: getting away from it helped. my skin's back to normal me: 😒tsk.

and of course kuya is not going to be a convenient plot device and HELP YOU out of a situation. no. he's gonna lounge in a tree somewhere and watch umi be a Very Good Lad and sneak you out of house arrest. dreamy sigh. thank you magic jailbreaker umi!!!!!!

and all it took was umi acknowledging yakumo's existence for me to hop back on the yakubicycle ring the bell dingding!!! all aboard!!!! UMI GET ON !!WE GOT A BOY TO GRIND INTO DUST *slaps a helmet on him* *makes my YakUmi dolls touch tails*

and of course

kuya switching between "ok little one i'm about to give you the schooling of a lifetime because CLEARLY you don't understand how this savage world works" and "oohhhh how could i, a humble little fox of generic stature and lineage, possibly measure up to the greatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgreatgrandchild of the Biggest Snake Ever? oh nooooo. i'm but a widdle boy. don't look to me for answers :3" sassy little......

SCALES - 7 yakumo: what,, what if we all just hugged and held hands with the humans??? umi: 😔 kuya: lol nah get a load of this *turns on the projector so that horrifying visions of the past play on the walls* eiden, yakumo, umi: 😨😨😨 MY FISH FRIENDS! NOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -> had to lie down for several moments after this section. dude.... the massacre... the one-sidedness... th savagery o f those indigenous to the island... euuuuuuuggrrrhhhhhhhhhhrhrhhrgghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh *holds a tiny umi in my palm* WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO... WHEN YOUR LIFE EXPERIENCE IS AT ODDS WITH HISTORY... WHEN YOU LIVED FOR SO LONG PROTECTING THE DESCENDANTS OF PEOPLE WHO DID THIS TO UR ANCESTORS... WHO MAY NOT HAVE COMMITTED THE CRIMES THEMSELVES BUT THEY DON'T ... do they try to atone for it? did they learn from it? does it matter?? jdoSJDAUDAWKDJAWWLAWWOPAEWAEPORL:FKS

oh frick story is happening wait recalibrating

villagers: THEY'VE COME FOR OUR BLOOD yakumo: (visibly shaking) i don't hate humans!! i... i've never wanted to hurt humans! please, we may be different, but-- kuya: (smiling while the storm rages around him)

me: steadily inching toward kuya in terms of "i agree with this one i'm kinda excited to see yall suffer"

>!>!>!>>!??!?!?!?!??! YAKUMO??? WHAT R YOU DOING??? DID YOU JUST MAKE A GIANT SHIELD?!?!?!?!?!?!? BABY BOY WHAT IS WITH YOU AND THE SHIELD.S. YOU ARE SUCH A SHIELDER. DIDN'T YOU DO THIS RECENTLY IN THE STORY WITH BERSERKER OLI? OHHHhh, i'm so proud of you you couldn't have done this 2 years ago!! you've come so far in terms of essence control and you're always using it to protect people you're doing so good and i-- CLIFF HANGER??!??!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!

a moment to breathe, if you (i) please. a moment to consider: what does yakumo's shield technique look like? hm/ / . more on that later.

SCALES - 8

WAHT IOSWRONG WITH YOU!!! DUMBASSES!!!!!! no, not dumahzsss. estupido. gonk. IDIOTA

YEAH!FILL THEIR LUNGS WITH SOUR GUMMIES, EIDEN

WHAT IS WRORNG WITH YOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

THESE ppl are so incredibly stupid that i cannot even fathom............ this boy is saving yalls asses with a giant shield (tbh, if he can make such a giant shield he could have chosen to make a smaller bubble shield or smth that only saved eiden/kuya/umi . but he consciously chose to protect ALL of u)

YAKUMO MAY HAVE MERCY ON YOU BUT I WON'T *clambers over the giant wave with my supersoaker full of piss and who-knows-what-else-concoction*

SCALES - 9 imaginging umi sneaking into the lighthouse at night to feed the fish scale his lil blood drips like a pet a pet thats keeping all these ungrateful humans alive

umi: um. why is it doing that. *points to village chief kneeling befor ehim* kuya: what did i mcfkin tell you. humans suck eiden: hella yakumo: my worl d is crashing down was mmy life a lie can humans and yokai really coexist with each other ? yes of course they have to be able to there's no way that humans are evil and to doom them would be too cruel-, adn yet how will the complicated history between umi's ancestors and- umi: i'm not sure how i can help kuya: i mean it's totally your choice. what does it matter to me ? you can do wahetevr you want and ultimately, it's not like any of our opinions matter because nature will reclaim us as it so forcefully reclaims all. why fuss over such trivial decisions when we are but pawns of fate. but yeah. killing them sounds pretty peachy right now ngl

SCALES - 10

you are too nice umi the paths that require the least amount of effort from you will let the villagers wipe themselves out

the fact that kuya is willing to drop the origins of the relic and how to potentially make a new one?? i guess he's not being such a hermit crab about info... so he's being generous in his own way by sharing knowledge... and umi can make an informed decision.

i gotta say that i was mini-spoiled on this part of the story, compeltely by accident on someone else's part... there were multiple tumblr ppl posting about their reactions to the story and going "IF UMI DIES I'M GONNA BE SO ANGRY" and i, living in a lala ideal world of my own, had never even CONSIDERED that a possibility but once i read other's fears about that potential future i was like NOOOOOOOOO AND NOW THEY'RE GIVING UMI AN OPTION *LIKE THIS* OH NO OH NO OH NO THEY'RE REALLY GONNA DO IT THEY'R EACTUALLY GONNA KILL A NICE NPC WHY WOULD YOU BLESS ME WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL FISH AND TAKE HIM AWAY FOR SOMETHING AS STUPID AS A PROMISE OR WHATEVER

SCALES - 11 cheering, whooping, hollering as kuya sets the village chief on fire

umi: i;'ll protect these humans with my own blood because i loved one centuries ago yakumo: humans have been kind to me so i'll protect them from a tsunami even when they're threatening my life kuya: idiots. babies. sentimental little fetus yokai. let me bring some consequences back to ur actions mr greedy wretch of a human *starts turning SUPERPURPLE*

hOL Y SHIgha kuya let him go? i was prepared to see some new bbq on umi's floor.. surprising........................... not as vengeful as i thought, kuya.... or rather i guess your senpai senses are tingling and you're ultimately leaving this business up to umi cuz, really, this IS umi's business and not kuya's 😞

SCALES - 12

sigh... yeah... you're right, eiden.... i need you to inject some Good Sense back into my violent tendencies... biggersigh... i would have loved to doom those villagers to sopping wet destruction but... right, right umi's lived for a long time... and eiden's crew have only known him for this TINY window on that timeline... we dont know him.. we dont know his life ☹ we AREN'T in a position to interfere with his decision...

*slams fist on the desk again* GOAWDH, UMI, WHAT WAS SO HECKIN SMPECIAL ABOUT THAT DUDE YOU KNEW THAT YOU'D GO THIS FAR FOR HIM??? UGH THIS POOR LONELY GAY FISH I'M so anGYYYYYYYY 😫😭😭😭😭😭😭 *watching umi fade into the white screen* this is stupid my chest hurts 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

SCALES - 13

SCREAMS BEAUTIFUL FSIIH *POINTS*!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BLUE GREEN SCALES!!!!!!!!!!! UMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII YOU'R EFISH AGAIN??? REINCARNATED? RESET? CYCLE ANEW? kuyaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i hope you used your bonkers godmode gamebreaker powers to somehow scrape the barrel of umi DNA and remake him or like; f;just;;; idk reset the clock on him even tho you don't approve of his decision

GAAAAHHHHHHHH this event!!! suffering!!!!!! suffering ana dammdbiguity!!!!!!! no giggles!!!! only existential crises and racism and reminding us of the different lifespans of humans vs yokai and now i bet all the frreaifsjsekles long-lived boys on my screen right now (yakumo and kuya) are gonna have to make some decisisons about how to deal with their incoming grief about EiDen leaving this plane of existence well before theyre ready tio part a and nOOOO i'm not gonna think about that umi is ok and fish again and he's gonna outlive all the predators and be so super cool and resplendently scaled and shiny the whole time that he gains enough magic power to become a yokai again and then he'll live a happy life with people who don't suck and and and eiden's gonna live forever witht eh power of gay neon gemstone and the elemental spirits kissing him gently on thecheek and nobody will have to sob fat tears over their beloveds ever ok goodbye

#mirage of scales

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