#signal processing techniques

[takeoffproject]

DSP Project Ideas for Students and Engineers

Digital Signal Processing (DSP) is an essential field in electronics and communication engineering, widely used in audio, image, and biomedical signal processing. Whether you're a student working on an academic project or an engineer looking for innovative solutions, DSP offers a vast range of applications. Here are some exciting DSP project ideas to explore:

1. Audio Signal Processing Projects

Noise Cancellation System – Develop a system to remove background noise using adaptive filters.

Voice Recognition System – Implement a speech recognition algorithm for security or automation.

Audio Equalizer – Design an equalizer to enhance sound quality in music systems.

2. Image and Video Processing Projects

Face Recognition System – Create a facial recognition model using DSP techniques.

Edge Detection in Images – Use DSP algorithms like Sobel or Canny edge detection.

Motion Detection in Video – Implement a real-time motion tracking system.

3. Biomedical Signal Processing Projects

ECG Signal Analysis – Develop a system to analyze ECG signals for detecting heart diseases.

EEG-Based Brainwave Processing – Process EEG signals to study brain activity.

Hearing Aid Enhancement – Improve hearing aids using DSP noise reduction techniques.

4. Communication and Wireless Signal Processing

Software-Defined Radio (SDR) – Implement DSP techniques for real-time radio signal processing.

Radar Signal Processing – Develop a radar-based object detection system.

5G Signal Processing – Explore DSP applications in modern wireless networks.

5. Control and Automation Projects

DSP-Based Motor Control – Design an efficient motor speed control system.

Seismic Signal Processing – Analyze earthquake signals for early detection.

DSP-Based IoT Applications – Implement DSP for real-time IoT data processing.

These projects offer hands-on experience with real-world applications of DSP. Whether you're interested in audio, image, biomedical, or wireless communication, DSP provides endless opportunities to innovate.

[captaingimpy]

Thoughts on Cinema: Finding the Middle Ground Between Film and Digital Filmmaking

As someone who has spent a significant amount of time working with audio and video production—and as a long-time moviegoer—I’ve noticed a troubling trend in the film industry: we seem to have fallen into an all-or-nothing mindset when it comes to film versus digital. It’s like there’s this unspoken war between purists who champion celluloid as the only “real” way to make a movie and the…

[agent4justice]

Scammers sophistication technique have reached a new apex, making Banking Fraud just like a walk in the park to this crime syndicates with richer background helter-skelters depositors and has been keeping most retirees that reinvested most of their retirement plan sleepless after words of the threat that swept the streets does not seem to have not weakened at all.

Masses are appealing for a more stringent countermeasure to be in place as soon as possible, such are adding more authentication request. Although retina scanner can slow down the process with the amount or rather the size of the data, but it also gives us an opportunity of having time to lockout perpetrators. The size of the data makes it at least 70% better than an iris scan and many more folds multiplied compared to a fingerprint.

Several years ago, I foresaw that the mCommerce (mobile commerce) would be ruled out as the mainstay of electronic processing for the sole reason that it is the most affordable business appliance that can serve the majority, representing the poor to medium class and the trending plot of global economic structure just like a triangle.

Having mCommerce | Mobile Technology as our economic transport offers the possibility of catering and adding the biggest chunk of our global population to pitch in the global trade for us to achieve having reserves and surplus will be more conceivable.

To make it a little impenetrable and globally under tighter scrutiny, I proposed that we adopt the universal identification system. We will integrate every other form of identity attached to it using our mobile number as the key index that will permanently our lifetime phone number. In the event of loss, the telco will make a SIM based on a secret code given to the subscriber upon the receipt of your subscription and issuance, which will be honored and will be service by other Telcos if subscriber opt to change carrier. The number coding of telcos should also compliment tracking effort, narrowed down within the radius and range of a few kilometers apart where the last signal was received or transmitted. The succeeding successful connection recorded by cell sites would enable us to speculate the linear direction as it trends.

We will enable the mobile technology to be a conduit of payment gateways or as a payment gateway itself. Our objective is to open the global trade and cover a larger scope and as far-reaching it could service most specially the marginalized poor a chance to lift their social status getting connected and finally be able to join our bandwagon to the brighter future. The fact can't be denied that they have been left without an adequate means to tap the convenience and business opportunity through eCommerce. Through the mobile payment gateway, even in the absence of a banking system in their region, they can now fulfill the checkout process by loading or charging it from your telco which is even less intricate than having a debit card or as to many known financial credibility.

#mobilepaymentgateway

#mobiletechnology

#mCommerce

#onlinefraud

#RetinaScan

Scammers sophistication technique have reached a new apex, making Banking Fraud just like a walk in the park to this crime syndicates with richer background helter-skelters depositors and has been keeping most retirees that reinvested most of their retirement plan sleepless after words of the threat that swept the streets does not seem to have not weakened at all.

Masses are appealing for a more stringent countermeasure to be in place as soon as possible, such are adding more authentication request. Although retina scanner can slow down the process with the amount or rather the size of the data, but it also gives us an opportunity of having time to lockout perpetrators. The size of the data makes it at least 70% better than an iris scan and many more folds multiplied compared to a fingerprint.

Several years ago, I foresaw that the mCommerce (mobile commerce) would be ruled out as the mainstay of electronic processing for the sole reason that it is the most affordable business appliance that can serve the majority, representing the poor to medium class and the trending plot of global economic structure just like a triangle.

Having mCommerce | Mobile Technology as our economic transport offers the possibility of catering and adding the biggest chunk of our global population to pitch in the global trade for us to achieve having reserves and surplus will be more conceivable.

To make it a little impenetrable and globally under tighter scrutiny, I proposed that we adopt the universal identification system. We will integrate every other form of identity attached to it using our mobile number as the key index that will permanently our lifetime phone number. In the event of loss, the telco will make a SIM based on a secret code given to the subscriber upon the receipt of your subscription and issuance, which will be honored and will be service by other Telcos if subscriber opt to change carrier. The number coding of telcos should also compliment tracking effort, narrowed down within the radius and range of a few kilometers apart where the last signal was received or transmitted. The succeeding successful connection recorded by cell sites would enable us to speculate the linear direction as it trends.

We will enable the mobile technology to be a conduit of payment gateways or as a payment gateway itself. Our objective is to open the global trade and cover a larger scope and as far-reaching it could service most specially the marginalized poor a chance to lift their social status getting connected and finally be able to join our bandwagon to the brighter future. The fact can't be denied that they have been left without an adequate means to tap the convenience and business opportunity through eCommerce. Through the mobile payment gateway, even in the absence of a banking system in their region, they can now fulfill the checkout process by loading or charging it from your telco which is even less intricate than having a debit card or as to many known financial credibility.

#mobilepaymentgateway

#mobiletechnology

#mCommerce

#onlinefraud

#RetinaScan

#FraudAlert

#FraudAlert

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sebek Zigvolt: Cold-Blooded

Peeled Cucumbek... ... Why does the groovy look like Trey's... They're not beating that crack theory about them being cousins anytime soon.

afihlaeoyvfafaefi ALSO I THOUGHT I WAS BUGGIN' OUT WHEN I SAW WHAT HIS HEADBAND SAID 😭 LIKE WDYM IT SAYS GoooИ... (I assume as in, "underling" but... ugggggh OTL)

Rise and Shine!

“Erm… Is that you, Sebek?”

You almost couldn’t recognize him when you walked into his room. Tall, imposing, strong—these were all far from the words that came to mind at the blanket burrito before you.

Sebek was curled into himself and cocooned in his comforter. Without the copious amounts of hair gel to tame his unruly hair, it stuck up as if he had been fried by his lord's lightning. He was not a fearsome warrior, but a shivering mass in the brisk morning, some poor creature rudely awoken from its hibernation.

"D-Do not cast your eyes upon me, HUMAN!" Sebek gritted out, pulling his blanket over himself. "I have not yet made myself presentable!!"

Your eyebrows jutted up.

He's acting like a shy school girl...

You tutted as you approached, gingerly taking a corner of the blanket. The mound moved away, as if embarrassed. "It's okay. Whether it's hair up or hair down, full uniform or pajamas, you look good either way."

"WH-WHAT!!?!" Sebek's booming voice cut through the cloth that hid him. He emerged from behind it like a crocodile's head poking out from the waters. His complexion had been left terribly pink with embarrassment. "You do not know what you speak of! T-To utter such intimate words with such ease... HOW BRAZEN CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE?!"

"I just call it like I see it. It's not so difficult." You shrugged. "By the way, are you cold? You haven't taken off that blanket since I came in to check on you."

"Absolutely not!! Something as insignificant as the temperature could never affect my... m-m-my... m- AH-CHOO!!"

A sneeze punctuated the end of his sentence. An awkward silence descended.

"... What was that you were saying?"

Sebek sniffed. He quickly glanced away, attempting to salvage his tattered pride. "... Perhaps I am. What of it? I am descended from a cold-blooded species of nocturnal fae, so this is a trait that naturally comes to us!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed, of, Sebek." You stifled an amused laugh. "But as it so happens, I know the perfect way to pass on body heat and to help you properly wake up."

"You know of such a useful technique?" He straightened, suddenly alert--like a guard dog that sensed a trespassing squirrel. "Well, what is it? OUT WITH IT, HUMAN!"

"It's... this!"

Sneak attack...!

You lunged at Sebek from behind, wrapping your arms around him. An embrace, ensnaring. Your torso and face pressed into his back--the warmth radiating off of him mixing with yours. You could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest, picking up the pace like a war drum signaling a charge.

Sebek immediately launched out of bed, shedding his blanket like a second skin. He gaped at you, back hugging the far wall, eyes wide with alarm. Heat flooded his cheeks and ears, turning them as red as the painted roses in Heartslabyul.

"I-I-AM-SUFFICIENTLY-WARM-NOW!!" Sebek stiffly thundered. "I-IF YOU WILL E-EXCUSE ME, I MUST MAKE HASTE TO THE WASHROOM TO PREPARE FOR CLASS!!"

"Alright," you replied nonchalantly. "I'll wait here for you to get ready. No rush."

Oh, he rushed.

Sebek barged right past you and into the hallway. Stomp, stomp, stomp. He stormed into the Diasomnia washroom and immediately found an avaliable sink.

Twisting a knob (and nearly snapping it off in the process), he summoned running water. Cupping his hands under the faucet, he thoroughly splashed himself. Once, twice, thrice.

As icy as the water was, he still he burned, skin itching, as though there was a flame dancing in his veins. His blood, no longer cold.

[patricia-taxxon]

ok people keep getting this wrong so im gonna set this straight

THIS IS A TALKBOX

The synth is articulated by literally being played into the guys' mouths through a tube, it has a retro character & association because it is the first of these techniques to be developed, dating back to the forties. It being a sound played through someone's literal mouth gives it its most signature tells, the uncannily natural enunciation and the way the sound is blocked when they close their mouths for fricatives and plosives.

THIS IS A VOCODER

This technique skips out on the physical medium and replicates the process in the box. In the absence of an actual waveform, a voice or anything else can be approximated with a record of its Formants, or the relative volumes of different bands of frequencies. You can then use this information to filter another sound, called the carrier signal. In music, you often take a very bright sound like a saw wave and use that as the carrier, so that you can use a vocoder to carve out pieces of the synth's profile to match the overtones of the input, usually someone's voice. The main thing that differentiates the sound from the talkbox is those fricatives. When a singer makes an S sound through a talkbox, their teeth physically block the sound from escaping their mouth. Since the vocoder is being driven by the actual sound of their voice rather than the shape of their mouth, the S sound's formants are interpreted by the vocoder as a bright hiss, so it lets the upper parts of the carrier signal through, creating little moments where the high buzz of the saw synth pokes through.

THIS IS A HARMONIZER

Or rather, a special harmonizer that only Bon Iver gets to use, but its the same idea. This is the newest and rarest type of vocal manipulation, cus it's pretty computationally intense and hard to get working right in the best of circumstances. This song here is repitching the incoming signal into individual notes, like jacked up autotune that you can play with a keyboard. There is no signal being modulated by the voice, either by the singer's mouth or by their voice's formants, the voice itself is being manipulated. You can hear that there is no underlying synth that would be playing on full blast if not for mr. Bon's voice and/or mouth, the sound maintains the character of his voice.

thank u

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Bomber Flies: these flies launch their own eggs into the nests of wasps and bees, hovering in mid-air as they do so; the females also have a unique perivaginal pouch that is known as a "sand chamber" because it is filled with sand

Above: Anastoechus sp. (top) and Anastoechus nitidulus (bottom)

The flies of this family (Bombyliidae) are generally referred to as "bee flies," because they are known to mimic bees and bumblebees, but many of them are also known as "bomber flies," thanks to their unusual ovipository technique.

Above: a bomber fly of the genus Anastoechus

As the female bomber fly is preparing to lay her eggs, she will usually look for a soil-hidden nest that already contains the eggs/larvae of another insect. Most bomber flies lay their eggs in the nests of wasps and bees, but there are a few species that are known to target beetles, grasshoppers, locusts, other flies, and/or caterpillars, instead. Once the bomber fly has found a suitable nest, she will hover over the entrance to the burrow and rapidly flick her abdomen up and down until she has launched a single egg into the nest. She must then go searching for more nests in which to lay her other eggs.

Above: Anastoechus sp.

After hatching, the parasitoid larvae of the bomber fly feeds on the eggs/larvae of the host species (i.e. the nest's original occupants). As this article explains:

When a bee fly egg hatches, a tiny larva called a planidium emerges. The planidium is quite unlike most fly larvae (also known as maggots); they are adapted for moving quickly in search of a host. Once the planidium finds a host, it will attach itself to the host’s exterior, like a leech or sea lamprey, and begin to feed. Yes folks, this is the stuff of nightmares.

Female bomber flies also have another peculiar trait: their abdomen contains a specialized perivaginal pouch known as a "sand chamber." During the ovipository process, the fly fills this pouch with fine grains of sand, and her eggs are then coated in the sand as they pass through the perivaginal pouch. The pouch is also lined with elongated setae ("hairs") and enlarged spikes that prevent the grains of sand from spilling back out.

The overall purpose of the "sand chamber" is still unclear, but many researchers believe that coating the eggs in a layer of sand may help to improve the viability of the eggs by preventing them from being damaged as they are launched to the ground, and that it also provides them with some camouflage after they have landed. Some researchers have argued that it prevents the eggs from becoming dehydrated, because the barrier helps to improve fluid retention, while others believe that it improves the mother's aim by increasing the weight of each egg. There is some evidence to suggest that it could also prevent the eggs from being detected (and then destroyed, abandoned, or ejected) by the host species, because the sand helps to mask/mute the egg's biochemical signals.

Above: Anastoechus barbatus

Adult bomber flies tend to feed on pollen and nectar. They are excellent pollinators, and their parasitoid larvae may also help to keep wasp and bee populations in check.

This article notes that bee flies (particularly Anastoechus nitidulus) likely served as the inspiration for the Pokémon known as cutiefly:

Sources & More Info:

USGS: Bombyliidae Fly

Biological Journal of the Linnean Society: The Evolutionary Pattern of Host Use in the Bombyliidae (Diptera) Family

YouTube: Video of a Bomber Fly (Bombylius major) Selecting a Nest and then Launching her Egg into the Burrow

Smithsonian Institution Press: Bee Flies of the World (pages 6 and 27)

Michigan State University: Bee Flies

Animal Diversity Web: Genus Bombylius

Animal Diversity Web: Anthrax albofasciatus

Journal of Geek Studies: The Entomological Diversity of Pokémon

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Flashbacks

In fiction, a flashback is a scene that takes place before a story begins.

Flashbacks interrupt the chronological order of the main narrative to take a reader back in time to the past events in a character’s life.

A writer uses this literary device to help readers better understand present-day elements in the story or learn more about a character.

Whether it’s a vivid memory or a dream sequence, a flashback scene (sometimes called an analepsis) is a window to an earlier occurrence that provides critical information to the story.

In the opposite narrative direction, a flash-forward (sometimes called a prolepsis) is a sneak preview or foreshadowing of future events.

Books make time travel effortless. Here are a few writing tips for moving elegantly between different time periods in your narrative:

Use verb tense shifts to move between the flashback and main narrative. Whenever your narrative or characters recall a memory from a time before the story began, you have two choices. If the memory is short, you can describe it briefly. If it’s longer, you may want to pull the reader back into a full scene describing a past event. It important to mark the beginning and end of a flashback to make your time jumps clear to the reader. If you’re already using past tense to tell your story, once inside the flashback, use a few lines of past perfect tense to introduce the change—e.g. “he had gone to the marina.” Past perfect tense uses the verb “to have” with the past participle of another verb (in this case “gone”). After a few lines of this, transition into simple past tense—e.g. “he climbed onto the boat.” Generally speaking, using past perfect for a long section of text is jarring for most readers. It’s enough to use it only at the start of the flashback before switching to simple past tense. At the end of the flashback, return briefly to past perfect tense and then transition back into the tense you started out with to signal a return to real time.

Keep them relevant. Flashbacks help fill in the characters’ motives and history, but if they are too long or tedious, the reader will get bored. If you use flashbacks, always be aware that time is still moving in the front story, and make sure that your reader can hear the clock in that front story ticking. It can be tempting to unload every last one of your character’s memories but tell the reader what they really need to know, and no more than that. Keep the language in these passages clear, always keeping the readers’ understanding in mind.

Sometimes the whole book is the flashback. Occasionally, the first scene or first chapter of a book will feature the main character (or a supporting character) beginning to tell a story to someone else. Framing the events of the storyline this way, with a dual point-of-view into a character’s life over the passage of time, can bring more nuance to the storytelling. Before using this technique, ask yourself whether the character’s arc is dramatic enough to make for interesting retrospection.

Tell the present story first. Sometimes it may not be clear where a flashback belongs until you’ve completed your first draft and have a complete view of the storyline. Don’t feel any pressure to weave in flashbacks as you write: simply tell your story in a linear fashion first, then shed more light on a character's motives that may need more clarity, or set up later events in the revision process.

Ways to Use Flashbacks in Your Writing

Flashbacks can either be quick dips into the past or a larger narrative thread within a story. Taking readers out of the present time to learn about an earlier event can help a writer tell a story in a non-linear style. Approaching short story or novel writing in this way can make the narrative more interesting. Flashbacks have several other important functions in literature.

Flashbacks aid character development. Diving into a character’s past, even momentarily, is a way for writers to convey background information that supports the main storyline. Writing flashbacks can provide insight into the main character’s motivations for the decisions they make and actions they take. For example, if a character's backstory includes something critical that happened in high school that can explain an event in the present, a writer can create a scenario that triggers a character to recall and reflect upon the memory.

Flashbacks incorporate different time periods. Everyone has layers of moments in their lives that influence who they are in the present. Following the chronological sequence of a storyline can leave a plot feeling flat. Flashbacks break up the chronological flow of a story, making it more interesting and realistic.

Flashbacks make readers more connected to the characters. Effective flashbacks provide a deeper insight into who a person is. Maybe a villain thinks back to the parents who abandoned him—a past event that has directly impacted his bad behavior. Though readers might not excuse the character’s actions based on his past experiences, the flashback helps them feel empathy and make sense of the antagonist’s behavior.

Flashbacks can explain the current conflict. Flashing back can help a reader better understand why and how the protagonist got into the situation that’s driving the plot and the reasons behind the main conflict. If there’s a long history of bad blood between the protagonist and antagonist, a writer can use flashbacks to show readers this history.

Examples of Flashbacks in Literature

A sight, a sound, a smell, a time, a place—writers use different stimuli to trigger a flashback. Once they take the reader back in time, they use flashbacks to enlighten them. Here are three flashback examples that demonstrate different ways this device can be used in literature:

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad: In Joseph Conrad’s novel, a flashback makes up most of the narrative, creating a story within a story. Sitting on board a small ship on London’s Thames river, the crew of the Nellie waits for the tide to shift. As the sun sinks below the horizon, the sight triggers a memory for a crewmember named Marlow who begins to recall his time as a riverboat captain in the Congo.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my head ever since.” So begins Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby. He uses a flashback in the first scene of the first chapter to kick off his story.

Reasons to Incorporate Flashbacks into Your Story

While flashbacks are not a requirement of writing fiction, they can create layers of complexity and intrigue.

Flashbacks can be a powerful way to make a promise to a reader. It’s common to open a chapter with a cataclysmic event, then move abruptly into the past (“Three Weeks Earlier”) where (usually with a dose of dramatic irony) your protagonist finds himself in an entirely normal situation. This forges a contract with the reader that you’ll explain how the hero went from one situation to its opposite.

Revealing a character's backstory this way can help to make sense of their present-day actions. You can use flashbacks to fill in a backstory about a character’s past or situation, and the flashback sequence creates new micro-promises in itself.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[megu-meow]

love scars - Gojo Satoru

Gojo x Fem. Reader

Summary: you heal Gojo's scars after his fight with Sukuna.

TW: MANGA SPOILERS, hurt, pain, battle scars, blood

Seeing Satoru physically hurt was not something you witnessed often. His infinity kept him safe, not many were able to penetrate the invisible barrier that protected him from outside attacks. However, the King of Curses was one of those few that managed to nullify that defensive power of your beloved husband and you warned the white-haired sorcerer about that possibility before going into battle.

It was heartbreaking for you, to let him go into battle so soon after his unsealing, but you had no other choice. He was the strongest after all, the one destined to defeat the monster called Ryomen Sukuna. You couldn’t just sit there with the others and watch the clash of the strongest, so you decided to wait in the medical ward of Jujutsu Tech, knowing that Satoru would teleport there instantly if he got hurt. Shoko told you about his plan, he didn't want you to be there when he arrived, and he didn't want you to see him hurt, but you couldn't care any less about his preferences. You were a Special Grade sorcerer, a healer with an insane amount of cursed energy, but Gojo didn't want you to take care of his wounds after his fight because of the Heavenly Restriction imposed on your powers. In order to balance out the sheer amount of cursed energy you possessed and the seemingly limitless reversed cursed technique you could produce, your technique had its flaw: the pain that you took away from others by healing them was inflicted on you throughout the duration of the process.

He witnessed it many times, the way it worked, and he held you lovingly, trying to take away the agonizing pain shaking your body. Compared to you, Shoko's powers were a lot more limited, she couldn't deal with greater injuries, however, she could heal him enough so that he could do the rest on his own. There was no way he could allow you to go through the pain he was feeling after Sukuna's back-to-back slashes.

After the longest 2 hours of your life, you suddenly felt a huff of air and Satoru appeared in front of you, growling in pain.

"No, no, no, baby, you're not supposed to be here, go get Shoko, please." he implores, the agonizing pain visible in his cerulean eyes. At least the one you could see, the other slashed in half, covered in blood.

"Shoko's busy with the others, Satoru. You know this is not the job for her, she couldn't do it. I have to be the one to heal you, sweetheart." you explain, already multiplying your cursed energy, ready to produce the RCT needed for a difficult job like this one.

"No, I can't... I can't let you deal with this, my kikufuku. It's unbearable, it's too much." he exclaims, tears running down his face "I can do it myself, I just need a moment to cool down and re-charge my cursed energy."

"No, you can't, Satoru! You're gonna bleed out, I have to do this. Please, let me do this..." you are crying now too, imploring him to finally agree "I love you, please let me do this!"

He takes off his surprisingly intact shirt, he hisses in pain, but he has finally accepted your help. You step closer to him as you put your hand over the deepest cut you could see, one close to his precious heart and you look him in the eyes one last time before starting the process. He leans up to carefully kiss your lips, whispering how much he loves you, how sorry he is, and how everything is going to be fine. He takes your free hand into his and he can feel your grip tightening as his wound fades slowly. For the first few cuts he thinks you're doing great, but you are doing everything in your power to not scream from the agonizing pain. Your eyes are full of tears, your face contorted from the feeling of sharp blades slicing your skin. There are no visible scars or anything signaling that you were hurting, but he knows what you're feeling. It's the same thing he had to endure half an hour ago while fighting Sukuna.

After an hour of constantly healing him, you're about halfway done, but the pain gets nearly unbearable and you scream, trying to push through it for Satoru's sake.

"Baby, please, stop, I'll be okay from now on, I'll do the rest myself, just please stop!" he implores, unable to let you continue. You cannot speak back, you drop your head back, trying to deal with the unbearable pain, but you don't let go. You continue healing him as he implores and begs you to stop. His eye is the most difficult to restore, but you're able to do it, and as soon as his last scar disappears from his body, you collapse into his hands, barely conscious.

"Are you okay, little one? Please tell me you're okay. I love you, I need you to be alright." he says cupping your cheeks, leaving small kisses all over your face and lips.

"I'm fine, 'toru. Don't worry!" you smile lightly, kissing him on the lips "Jus' tired."

"I'm not gonna let you do that again. I don't want you to feel pain, sweetheart. You're so brave, you are amazing. I love you more than anything." he murmurs, kissing the crown of your head as you bury your face in his toned chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like cologne and body wash, a tiny ounce of sweat, but you don't mind. You're glad he's okay and that you were able to heal his porcelain skin, making every scar littered on his body disappear forever.

[leafington]

𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙬𝙩𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩. 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩. - kento n.

content warning !! - smut (finally!!!!1!!1!), whatever kink using your cursed technique on your partner is, piv penetration, doggy, black!fem reader, manhandling 🤤, nanami being big everywhere, squirting, praise, light degradation, unprotected sex, a tad rushed in the end

a/n - based off this post but ignore the part where he said nanami'd have to be gentle bc we gon take it like a CHAMP 😤

There's a rough hand circled around your neck, punishing not only your pussy, but your insides that are begging for mercy from the rough thrusts on the other end. Nanami's bent you under him like this for what feels like hours now, he looks like a man on a mission, desperate for ease and relaxation, the only way he can recieve it is pistoning his cock inside his beautiful and willing wife, the one babbling 'please' in broken syllables.

"You can take it, baby. I know you can, doing so good f'me." He coos encouragingly in your ear, too bad the only thing you can process is how thick his dick is, streching you out in the best way imaginable, walls so incredibly expanded to his shape that it even recgonizes that lovely vein that rips the right moans from you.

The sheets have nearly come off the mattress, deep and concentrated pumps causing the headboard to hit the wall a few times, making Nanami have to hold it to avoid putting a dent and to keep himself sane before he spills everywhere. Each and every time he slides out, you contract, tightening around him and hitting your spongy spot perfectly when he rams back in. "Ooohhh, fuckfuckfuck, right there! Yes! Mmmh!" You whine almost incoherently, sensing your abdomen getting tense for another release.

A second hand, one that was previous preoccupied on your ass, pushes down on your back, practically englufing the surface of it all. He leans over, still not quite there, but he's chasing it, the feeling of release at his fingertips.

His eyes are squeezed shut, he can't imagine what'll happen if he looks down and sees the white ring around his length. Nanami refuses to cum that unfortunately, he needs to feel it, have it be taken from him in the most dire way conceivable. Nanami's eyes fly open feeling that delicious squeeze from your hole, a whine following suit. "You close? You're gonna milk me like that." He perches himself on your arched back. "Yes, shit, 'm gonna cum.. baby, please." You beg, tears trailing down your face from the weakening sensation. "Not yet. You come when I do, understand?" He nearly growls, although it's low from his frustration.

You ramble out a few no's, you're not even sure if you can handle holding it until he says so. You're grasping at whatever is within arm's reach, knuckles going pale from the shameful grip.

Shit. He can see all your weak points... one being faint but clearly prominent from the signal you're giving, pushing yourself back into him furthering him. Nanami never pictured himself using such a method to get you over the edge, and for all he know it could be dangerous. But he needs it, the shiver down his back that comes with a great aftershock from draining himself, that breath of air from the intensity of it all, Nanami has to feel your cunt caving in around him—nearly trapping him to cum inside.

So he does.

With a contained amount of force, he pulls his hips back and delivers the most powerful force into your lower-body that travels down your back, accompanied by your restriction giving out on you and coating everything from your legs to his thighs in transparent, gooey, liquid, your whines ricocheting off the walls. Your body's compensating for it by making you tremble, right agaisnt your husband who's giving you his all, seed nearly flowing out as he grunts adorably from the shock. His hands squeeze your hips, attempting to recover from the blow that domino effected back to him while pouring into you.

"That's it. Yeahh, look at my dirty girl milking me dry." Nanami thanks you, giving a gentle and appreciative kiss to the temple.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[oh-no-its-bird]

Mmm. young Kagami accidental time travel gone wrong when Danzo is the first to find him,,

Danzo wants him as a loyal ROOT shinobi soooo baddd, it would fix all of his issues and give him 30 new ones and also make all of his everything so much worse

Ichigo comes with him too, but Danzo doesnt really give a shit ab her she's only here so that Danzo can make Kagami kill her to further his own ROOT training. She is having the worst time ever in the bg and also really mad that she's being ignored

Both kids have so much clan pride too,, the time they're from, they're only a couple years into Konoha being a thing, their clans make up the foundation of their personalities and lives. So them being forced to "forget" ab it,,, ough,,,

Being put through the process of forgetting themes to devote everything to ROOT, made so much worse because they don't even have 'true' Konoha loyalty to amplify like a modern shinobi kid might,, their clans are all they have,,, u cant just take it away,,

Ichigo especially I think would react SO violently to the concept of being forced to forget her clan. She is a HATAKE, she was raised in isolation and her clan is literally all she's ever had. They are raised into insane levels of loyalty to eachother and the spirit of their clans, Ichigo herself would have one day become her clans spiritual leader—in general too shes just. Very, very clan focused. All warring state era kids are.

Anyways, Kagami and Danzo

I think Kagami doesnt want to believe it's Danzo behind all of their suffering. And Danzo also probably does not present himself as the cause of it, at first anyways.

As is, Kagami is PRIMED for being groomed and gaslit tbh. The power imbalances are off the charts— he wants to be loyal and put his trust in Danzo so bad bc thats his best friend but also a whole adult now. A big, strong adult who Kagami is predisposed to trust.

Danzo is in the perfect position to present himself as a saving grace to Kagami. Slowly easing him into the realization that he's the one forcing him to go through all of this,,, by the time Kagami fully understands it was all Danzo's plans this whole time, he's already too thoroughly wrapped in his web to really see the facts straight

He also just has like. NO one left. Danzo is his only source of comfort in the darkness he carefully designed and submerged him into </3

Mmmm. Just Kagami and Ichigo depression hours up in ROOT club. They are having THE worst time ever in the world. When they're first caught, Ichigo tries to howl for help (with howling being a legitimate chakra technique all Hatake are taught as kids, often used to signal and communicate over long distances) so they have to fucking muzzle her as they go to get the chakra suppressants (its probably mostly a statement tbh, they could totally just get the suppresants and leave it at that)

Only a bit away, Kakashi hears the howl of a wolf in the distance and for a second, he is filled with the urge to run towards it. But the howling stops, and with it the strange urge. How odd. He'll have forgotten about it, not even a week later.

No one is coming for them btw, back in their time they're presumed dead in the lab explosion that sent them here. They're stuck in the torture machine with no rescue in sight <///3

I do wanna to see them escape together ,, but like Ichigo is now half feral and ready to fucking bite anyone who so much as looks at her and Kagami is now dissociating 80% of the time and cant seem to recognize anyone anymore

meanwhile the Uchiha massacre is only a week or two away, and their escape and subsequent discovery is a tipping point for the uchiha that makes them do the coup sooner rather than later,,,

No one other than Danzo knows ab the time travel and both the kids are a) very disoriented + dont super understand whats happening themselves, and b) filled to the fucking brim with trust issues now, thanks Danzo, so when they show up it's just. Kind of understood that Danzo was kidnapping actual babies. Like, no one recognizes Kagami, but he's clearly an Uchiha and the girl with him is insisting he's part of the clan (Kagami himself is fucking dead to the world and way too deep in his head to hold a conversation rn)

Meanwhile someone goes to get Kakashi and now Kakashi is understanding that Danzo was straight up kidnapping Hatake babies.

This is around the point where Kakashi was debating killing the Hokage for Danzo anyways so he's just kinda. Throwing down the towel. Man, FUCK this shit. Fuck ALL of this shit.

Uhhh Kakashi joins the Uchiha in their coup anyone? Anyone? No? Ok well he's doing it anyways.

The Uchiha overthrow the government and they peer pressure Shikaku into being new Hokage bc he serves as a good neutral figure for most in Konoha (and itd look bad if an Uchiha took the seat directly) and Ichigo and Kagami get to heal in the Uchiha compound, yayyy <3

Only they spent a few solid years with Danzo so they are for sure irreversibly fucked now. There is no true recovery because they have been changed as people at their core, and even free they've been permanently separated from the time, clans, and people that they once knew. They lost their childhoods and are now being forced to start from scratch in a world they can't fully recognize.

Eventually the time travel thing will probably be found out, but by that point shit already hit the fan and the walls were repainted anyways, so no one. Really cares. All's well that ends well...?

Then ofc, obligatory bad ending where they dont escape, Kagami kills Ichigo as part of his ROOT trials and becomes a full-fledged ROOT shinobi fully loyal to Danzo (and also gains his mangekyou)

The uchiha massacre happens and things happen as they do in canon— and when ROOT is finally "officially" disbanded, a curly haired Uchiha shows up among the ex agents struggling to relearn how to be human

Yayyyy <33 the end

Anyways the entire time I was typing this I was listening to Sub Urban - DIAMOND on loop, which is a really good song so Im gonna go ahead and plug it here bc like. It's really good. Highly reccomend.

[sunny-mercya]

Childs Guilt

Shikamaru Nara x Male Reader

Fandom -> Naruto

Masterlist

You hadn't been feeling well these past weeks already—stomach cramps, aching muscles, nagging hammering headaches, nausea, constant fatigue and slight waves of fever—though this week it had gotten visibly worse and once you had coughed out some blood and collapsed right after getting out of bed, Shikamaru had brought you into the hospital right away.

Sakura had checked you over and came to the conclusion, that your already broken seal—with the much heavyweight additional stress of being a parent, which Sakura could relate herself all too well with it—continues, which shouldn't even be happening in the first place, to take more damage and breaking completely down now.

Your body—more like your chakra core and mind, which can't process, without redeeming help of medical jujutsu (with by the current look of your seal, is probably too late to use) or specific sealing techniques—responds with signals of pain, trying to mend this sort of “wound” on its own.

Knowing this, Shikamaru thought he could—albeit it might not be much seen as help—relieve you from some of the stress and do most, if not even all, of the housework chores for the time being till you're feeling remotely better (or finding a way to stop your seal from breaking apart completely).

So here Shikamaru was, sitting at the dining table with his son and waiting—after being forced to do so, albeit grumpy with you about it—for you to serve today's lunch.

Now, don't get him wrong, Shikamaru would have made gladly—without hesitation or shame, most men would feel when being asked to do what their more household staying spouse would do—today's lunch, just so you could stay in bed and getting the needed rest, but you insisted to do lunch yourself (half heartily jokingly threatening him with any of your Oni's—preferably Raikou it would have been).

»I can't just lay in bed all day and do nothing. And no, laundry doesn't count as doing something.« is what you had said to Shikamaru, when he found you—instead of either laying in bed or the couch as you should and how Sakura had advised you to do—standing in the kitchen, hunched over the counters (a visibly tremor in your legs and hands) and preparing lunch.

~~~•~~~

»Here you go, soya sauce chicken katsu!« you announced happily, serving the two plates—your own appetite had significantly gone down in your sick ridden phrase, still is and the few bites you took during the cooking, were more than enough, too much even, for your stomach—to your husband and son.

Shikamaru said his thanks and started to eat, while Shikadai only moved the chicken around on his plate with his chopsticks—looking rather grossed out by it.

»Are you not feeling well Shi?« worry etched across your face as it's one thing if you're sick, but another if your son is—maybe Shikadai had gotten a seasonal cold or a stomach bug is being passed around, perhaps he just feels more tired than usual.

»Don't ask me.« muttered Shikadai, slamming the chopsticks down onto the table.

»Shikadai.« Shikamaru warned his son, giving an admonitory glance.

Shikamaru—in contrast to your knowledge—knows from his friends firsthand, that most of their children (Boruto and Sarada specifically) seemed to be getting more and more into a angry rebellious mood against them—and now Shikadai, for whatever reasons, as well it seems.

»Stop acting as if you're my dad.«

»What do you mean?« your worry turned in confusion, not understanding what exactly Shikadai is trying to say here and why he's getting so heated.

»You're not my papa and neither are you a supposed mother! All you are is a Monster, which shouldn't even exist!«

You remain silent, a crestfallen expression of hurt etched onto your face, because you knew you're a monster—having called yourself that a few times, even with a slight proudness just to provoke and to make Naruto (one of your closest friends) not feel alone anymore—but it's something entirely different when your own son (or any other person you love and hold dear) calls you such as it equals—akin to a heartache—to a stab into the heart.

»Shikadai! That's enough!« Shikamaru raised his voice—never thought he ever needed to with his son—disapproval sternness in it, because such outbursting outrageous behaviour—towards you—was line crossing and not acceptable.

»I hate you! I hate you!«

Shikadai was shouting—the hatred crystal clear to hear in his voice—by now at this point, chair screeching backwards—falling back with a thud onto the floor—when he stood up abruptly, running out of the kitchen and slamming some doors—either the front door itself or the one towards the garden—shut.

Shikamaru, standing up as well—who, even now as a parent, had never been one for strictness or tight enclosed rules—had half a mind to follow his son and reprimanded him that such behaviour wasn't acceptable as it certainly crossed a line—and while there a things, hurtful words, which a Parent should never dared to utter to their child, so are there words a child should never say to their parents.

But Shikamaru didn't go after his son, not when you have called out for him in a hoarse whisper—cup of (f.drink) slipping from your already shaky hands and shattering down onto the ground into million shards.

Turning to you, the once disappointing up-flaring anger vanish right away and morphed into concern upon seeing your pale sweat glistening face and the way how you clutched your stomach—Shikamaru, with a few steps towards you, puts his arms around you in support and walks you into the living room towards the couch.

~~~•~~~

»......something is wrong....« you rasped out in pain, fearing yourself for the worst already—a lingering sense crawling through your mind of what's happening to you and it's one of the few things which sparked pure terrific fear in you.

»Let me have a look.« Shikamaru raised up your shirt—being thankful that you wore much easier clothing nowadays and not the complicated traditional clothes—and coming to an unpleasant sight.

Your stomach, where the seal of the Oni Demons had once been placed—as you're, through all these years and despite the Oni's being long counted as friends and family, still a Vessel—looked bloody raw, skin tearing itself apart and the sealing marks coming off in a purple stream.

»Shika.....I'm scared.....I–I don't want to lose them, not again....Please, Shika, please don't let me lose them.« tears welled up in your eyes, the fear—which pulls Shikamarus heartstrings in an ache—visibly pooling in them, ascending down your cheeks and upcoming sobs—which bubbles up in your throat—threaten to escape over your lips.

Shikamaru as he shushes you gently, telling you in a promise—believing, although with not much faith in it, your husband as he had barley broken a promise before—that everything will be alright again and how he will do everything possible to not let you lose Raikou and the others—rubs his hand, in a careful and comforting manner, over your stomach.

»C'mon, let's get you back to bed, love.« Shikamaru picks you up and carries you into the bedroom—laying you down onto the bed, pulling him down with you as well, having a tight grip on his shirt.

And Shikamaru let you, holding you close while you cried yourself into sleep—squirming in pain and berating yourself, for something you weren't at faults even.

~~~•~~~

It had been days later—when Konoha had been evacuated, after being attacked by some cult Ninjas (close to being a second Akatsuki group) and either leading almost all possible Shinobi's, with a false lead, away from the village or locking them into a Genjujutsu—that Shikadai started to regret.

Seeing you—his Papa—getting purposely stabbed by the enemy, in order to protect him and Inojin—while telling Konohamaru and Mirai (despite them saying you shouldn't fight as you're still not recovered) to stay with them in protection, while you took care (in your words) of that fucker—sparked a flame of crashing guilt in Shikadai.

Shikadai argued with his Uncle—after the enemy had admitted that they're actually after you and your Oni's and seeing how brutal the attacks (which sends you crashing into the ground a few times already) you're receiving are—how he needs to help his papa and starting to cry out in frustration, anger and fear, when Konohamaru holds him back.

They don't understand, they just don't seem to understand the immense guilt and fear Shikadai feels, because this fight could risk your life and Shikadai didn't want to lose his Papa—not when these hateful words he had shouted at you, would be your last memories of him.

What Shikadai had said, wasn't true—you're aren't a monster, but it took the summoning of Raikou and the other three Oni's (who not only grand him sole protection, but also the whole village and Shikadai realise the extent of how strong you really are) and you literally sacrificing yourself—out of loyalty and parental love—to make Shikadai understand.

All Shikadai wants was to apologise and telling you, how much he loves you and how thankful he is to have you as his Papa.

I'm Sorry.

[shifting-empress]

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐀 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

Welcome to your reading! I personally keep a shifting journal, and I’ve found this to be super useful.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

Reflect on moments in your shifting journey where you might have overlooked signs, techniques, or shifts in energy. What opportunities for progress might you have dismissed, and why?

How have your current feelings (e.g., frustration, doubt, or lack of motivation) impacted your ability to stay consistent with your shifting efforts? What emotions do you need to process or release to move forward?

Are there techniques or methods you’ve dismissed in the past because they didn’t immediately work or seemed too different from your usual approach? Could revisiting them with a fresh perspective provide new insight or progress?

What aspects of your shifting journey have you been taking for granted? How can you shift your focus to appreciate the progress you’ve already made, even if it feels small?

Has your vision for your Desired Reality evolved since you began this journey? Are you still aligned with what you originally wanted, or is it time to redefine what shifting means to you?

𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

You need a new start, a new approach to shifting. Forget about the past, and your past (failed or successful) shitting attempts. You need to practice gratitude, mindfulness, and maybe try manifestation. Reignite your curiosity! Feeling stuck might signal that you're overworking yourself or holding too tightly to expectations. Take a step back, take a rest day, and engage in self-care to reset your chergy shifting is as much about personal gropth and reflection as it is about reaching your DR! Be patient with yourself and trust the process!

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

Reflect on the techniques, habits, and routines you’ve used so far in your shifting journey. Which ones have brought you closer to your Desired Reality? Which ones might need tweaking or letting go?

What progress, no matter how small, have you made in your shifting journey? How can you celebrate and acknowledge this progress to maintain motivation?

Shifting often requires patience. How do you currently feel about the timing of your journey? Are you putting pressure on yourself to achieve your goal by a certain date? How can you embrace the idea that growth happens in its own time?

What areas of your shifting journey might benefit from renewed focus or energy? Are there specific practices or tools you’ve neglected that you could revisit or refine?

When you think about your Desired Reality, does it still align with your long-term goals and values? If so, what steps can you take to remain committed? If not, how might you adjust your DR vision to better suit your evolving desires?

𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

It seems at this time that your shifting journey may be or feel as though it’s being tested. Shifting is not a race. Trust that the work you’ve been putting in is planting seeds, even if the results aren’t immediately visible. Use this time to evaluate what’s working and what isn’t. Consider keeping a journal to track your methods, experiences, and feelings so you can better understand where to direct your energy. Take time to acknowledge every sign, lucid dream, or moment of progress that suggests you’re getting closer to your DR. This will help you stay motivated and inspired. Reflect on why you began this journey and what excites you about your Desired Reality. Let this reminder reignite your dedication and inspire you to keep going.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

When you think about your Desired Reality, what excites you the most? How do you envision your life changing once you’ve shifted, and how does that align with the goals you’ve set for yourself?

Are there multiple techniques or approaches you’ve considered for shifting? How can you weigh their potential effectiveness and choose the path that feels most aligned with you?

What aspects of your Current Reality are motivating you to shift? How can you use these feelings as fuel while still appreciating the lessons and experiences of your present life?

What steps have you taken—or still need to take—to fully prepare yourself for shifting? Are there mental, emotional, or energetic blocks that you need to address before moving forward?

What fears or uncertainties might be holding you back from fully committing to your shifting journey? How can you confront those doubts and take a bold step toward your goals?

𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

Surrender! Your doubts and fears might just be holding you back. Take some time to step back, contemplate and mediate. Take time to plan and reflect on your shifting methods, affirmations, and routines. Having a clear vision and structure can bring more confidence to your journey. Don’t be afraid to try new methods or adjust your approach based on what feels right. Growth often comes from experimentation. Step out of your comfort zone, move beyond what feels safe or familiar. Trust in your ability to shift, and take bold action when it feels aligned. Shifting is as much about the process as it is about the result. Allow yourself to savor the excitement of preparing for your Desired Reality, knowing each step brings you closer. Stay focused on your DR and remember why you started this journey. Use visualization techniques and affirmations to keep your Desired Reality vivid and inspiring.

That’s all! I wanted to try my hand at a pick a card for my first Tumblr post to test it out. I aligned the spacing for the app, (at least on my phone), so I’m sorry if it looks weird! I’m just trying things out.

[rosesareredrosa]

Show You How Much I Care

Lorenzo Berkshire x fem reader

Summary: Little things Lorenzo does to show y/n how much he cares

w/c: 1069

Lorenzo Berkshire, the charming and enigmatic member of the Slytherin crew, had always had a knack for reading people. Yet, when it came to Y/N, a girl who seemed to shine with an inner light, he found himself captivated. Unlike many others at Hogwarts, Y/N was genuine and kind, navigating the social landscape with refreshing authenticity. Lorenzo admired her from afar and, over time, felt a growing desire to show her how much he cared.

The Care Package

One day, after overhearing Y/N mention her struggles with schoolwork, Lorenzo decided to help. He discreetly gathered a selection of books and notes that could aid her studies. Alongside these, he added a few of her favorite snacks—a small detail he had picked up from observing her during meals.

That evening, Y/N returned to her dormitory to find a basket waiting for her. Inside was a note written in Lorenzo's neat handwriting:

"For the times when things get tough. Take care, Y/N. - Enzo"

Y/N felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks as she read the note. She had always seen Lorenzo as the laid-back, cool member of his group, but this thoughtful gesture revealed a depth she hadn't expected. It was a small act, but it showed that he had been paying attention and cared about her well-being.

The Potions Class Incident

During a challenging Potions class, Professor Snape assigned the students a complex potion requiring precise timing and careful handling. Y/N, who generally enjoyed Potions, found herself unusually nervous, fumbling with the ingredients. She glanced at her notes, trying to recall the exact sequence, but her anxiety clouded her memory.

Lorenzo, at the next table, noticed her distress. He watched as she hesitated, holding a vial of powdered unicorn horn uncertainly. Understanding the importance of timing, Lorenzo quietly tapped his quill on the edge of her table, a subtle signal they had developed for moments like this.

Y/N looked over, catching his eye. Lorenzo gave a slight nod, glancing at the clock. She understood and added the powder just as the potion turned the right shade of blue. Lorenzo continued to help subtly, passing her a vial of powdered moonstone when she realized she was running low and mouthing a reminder about the temperature adjustment.

As the class ended, Professor Snape evaluated their potions. He paused at Y/N's cauldron, inspecting the brew with his usual critical eye. "Adequate," he muttered, a rare compliment from him.

Relieved, Y/N turned to Lorenzo as they packed up. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I was so nervous."

Lorenzo smiled, a warm, reassuring look in his eyes. "You had it. Just needed a bit of confidence."

Y/N couldn't help but smile back. His quiet support had been comforting, making her feel seen and valued.

The Herbology Lesson

Later, during a particularly tricky Herbology lesson, Y/N struggled with a difficult plant. Lorenzo, who had a surprising knack for Herbology, noticed her frustration and stayed behind after class.

"Need a hand?" he asked, offering a friendly smile.

Surprised, Y/N nodded. Lorenzo patiently guided her through the process, showing her the correct technique. Under his calm guidance, the plant responded, and Y/N felt a wave of relief and accomplishment.

"Thanks, Lorenzo," she said, grateful for his help.

He shrugged modestly. "Anytime. Can't let you struggle alone."

As the days passed, Y/N couldn't help but notice all the little things Lorenzo did for her. He'd save her a seat in the library, offer to carry her books when they were headed in the same direction, and even conjured a small bouquet of flowers during a particularly rough day. These small acts of kindness were so thoughtful and consistent that she found herself wondering why he was doing them. Was it just his nature, or was there something more?

The Astronomy Night

Knowing Y/N's love for the stars, Lorenzo planned a special surprise. One clear night, he invited her for a walk. They ended up at the Astronomy Tower, where he had set up a blanket and a small telescope.

As they lay under the stars, Lorenzo pointed out constellations and shared stories. His effort to create this moment touched Y/N deeply, revealing a thoughtful and caring side she had come to cherish.

"Lorenzo, this is wonderful," Y/N said, moved by his gesture. "Thank you."

He smiled, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."

Y/N felt warmth spread through her. She hesitated, then asked the question that had been on her mind. "Why do you do all these things for me, Lorenzo?" she asked softly, turning to look at him directly. "You've been so kind and attentive... it's more than anyone's ever done for me."

Lorenzo paused, his expression thoughtful. He met her gaze, his eyes sincere. "Because you matter to me, Y/N," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "I've seen how kind and genuine you are, and I admire that. I wanted to show you that someone appreciates you for who you are, not just for what you do or what house you're in. And... because I care about you. A lot."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know I'm not the best with words or grand gestures, but I believe in showing my feelings through actions. That's why I wanted to show you how much I care, in my own way. Whether it's helping you in Potions, making sure you have what you need, or just spending time together like this. It's all because I want you to know you're special to me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words. There was a sincerity in his voice that made her believe every word. She felt a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a deep warmth she couldn't quite describe.

She reached out, taking his hand. "I had no idea," she admitted, her voice soft. "But... I'm glad. I appreciate everything you've done. It means more than you know."

They sat there, hand in hand, under the vast night sky. Lorenzo's quiet, thoughtful actions had finally come to light, revealing the depth of his feelings. It wasn't about grand declarations or dramatic actions; it was about the little things that showed he genuinely cared. And in that moment, under the stars, Y/N realized just how much Lorenzo meant to her, too.

[milfstalin]

When I met Stalin, I did not find him enigmatic. I found him the easiest person to talk to I ever met. He is far and away the best committee chairman of my experience. He can bring everybody’s views out and combine them in the minimum of time. His method of running committees reminded me somewhat of Jane Addams of Hull House or Lillian D. Wald of Henry Street Settlement. They had the same kind of democratically efficient technique, but they used more high pressure than Stalin did.

If Stalin has been inaccessible to foreigners—there were exceptions even to this—that does not mean that he lived in isolation, in a sort of Kremlin ivory tower. There were close to 200,000,000 people keeping him busy. He was seeing a lot of them. Not always necessarily the party leaders. A milkmaid who had broken the milking record, a scientist who had broken the atom, an aviator who flew to America, a coal miner who invented a new labor process, a workman with a housing difficulty, an engineer balked by new conditions—any person representing either a signal achievement or a typical problem might be invited by Stalin to talk it over. That was the way he got his data and kept in touch with the movement of the country.

[...]

My first impression of him was vaguely disappointing. A stocky figure in a simple suit of khaki color, direct, unassuming, whose first concern was to know whether I understood Russian sufficiently to take part in discussion. Not very imposing for so great a man, I thought. Then we sat down rather casually, and Stalin was not even at the head of the table; Voroshilov was. Stalin took a place where he could see all our faces and started the talk by a pointed question to the man against whom I had complained. After that Stalin seemed to become a sort of background, against which other people’s comments went on. The brilliant wit of Kaganovich, the cheerful chuckle of Voroshilov, the characteristics of the lesser people called to consult, all suddenly stood out. I began to understand them all and like them; I even began to understand the editor against whom I had complained. Suddenly I myself was talking and getting my facts out faster and more clearly than I ever did in my life. People seemed to agree with me. Everything got to the point very fast and smoothly, with Stalin saying less than anyone.

Afterward in thinking it over I realized how Stalin’s genius for listening helped each of us express ourselves and understand the others. I recalled his trick of repeating a word of mine either with questioning intonation or a slight emphasis, which suddenly made me feel I had either not quite seen the point or perhaps had overstated it, and so drove me to make it plainer. I recalled how he had done this to others also. Then I understood that his listening has been a dynamic force.

This listening habit dates back to the early days of his revolutionary career. “I remember him very well from the early days of our Party,” said a veteran Bolshevik to me. “A quiet youth who sat at the edge of the committee, saying almost nothing, but listening very much. Toward the end he would make a few comments, sometimes merely as questions. Gradually we came to see that he always summed up best our joint thinking.” The description will be recognized by anyone who ever met Stalin. In any group he is usually last to express his opinion. He does not want to block the full expression of others, as he might easily do by speaking first. Besides this, he is always learning by listening.

“He listens even to the way the grass grows,” said a Soviet citizen to me.

On the data thus gathered, Stalin forms conclusions, not “alone in the night,” which Emil Ludwig said was Mussolini’s way, but in conference and discussion. Even in interviews, he seldom receives the interviewer alone; Molotov, Voroshilov, or Kaganovich are likely to be about. Probably he does not even grant an interview without discussing it first with his closest comrades. This is a habit he formed very early. In the days of the underground revolutionary movement, he grew accustomed to close teamwork with comrades who held each other’s lives in their hands. In order to survive, they must learn to agree quickly and unanimously, to feel each other’s instincts, to guess even at a distance each other’s brains. It was in such a group that he gained his Party name—it is not the one that he was born with—“the Steel One, Stalin.”

[...]

Stalin brings certain important qualities to these joint decisions. People who meet him are first of all impressed by his directness and simplicity, his swift approach. Next they notice his clearness and objectivity in handling questions. He completely lacks Hitler’s emotional hysteria and Mussolini’s cocky self-assertion; he does not thrust himself into the picture. Gradually one becomes aware of his keen analysis, his colossal knowledge, his grip of world politics, his willingness to face facts, and especially his long view, which fits the problem into history, judging not only its immediate factors, but its past and future too.

Stalin’s rise to power came rather slowly. The rise of his type is slow and sure. It began far back with his study of human history and especially the history of revolutions. President Roosevelt commented to me with surprise on Stalin’s knowledge of the Cromwellian Revolution in Britain as shown in his talk with H. G. Wells. But Stalin quite naturally studied both the British and the American historical revolutions far more intimately than British and American politicians do. Tsarist Russia was due for a revolution. Stalin intended to be in it and help give it form. He made himself a thorough scientist on the process of history from the Marxian viewpoint: how the masses of people live, how their industrial technique and social forms develop, how social classes arise and struggle, how they succeed. Stalin analyzed and compared all past revolutions. He wrote many books about them. But he is not only a scientist; he also acts.

In the early days of the Revolution, Stalin’s name was hardly known outside the Party. In 1923, during Lenin’s last illness, I was told by men whose judgment I trusted that Stalin was “our coming man.” They based this on his keen knowledge of political forces and his close attention to political organization as secretary of the Communist Party. They also based it on his accurate timing of swift action and said that thus far in the Revolution he hid not once guessed wrong. They said that he was the man to whom “responsible Party men” turned for the clearest statement of what they all thought., In those days Trotsky sneered at Stalin as the “most average man” in the Party. In a sense it was true. Stalin keeps close to the “average man”; the “average man” is the material of politics. But Stalin does it with a genius that is very far from average.

“The art of leadership,” said Stalin once, “is a serious matter. One must not lag behind the movement, because to do so is to become isolated from the masses. But one must not rush ahead, for this is to lose contact with the masses.” He was telling his comrades how to become leaders; he was also expressing his own ideal, which he has very effectively practiced.

[...]

Glimpses of Stalin’s personal relations come chiefly through his contacts with picturesque figures who have helped make Soviet history. Valery Chkalov, the brilliant aviator who made the first flight across the North Pole from Moscow to America, told of an afternoon that he spent at Stalin’s summer home from four o’clock till after midnight. Stalin sang many Volga songs, put on gramophone records for the younger people to dance, and generally behaved like a normal human being relaxing in the heart of his family. He said he had learned the songs in his Siberian exile when there wasn’t much to do but sing.

The three women aviators who broke all world records for women by their spectacular flight from Moscow to the Far East were later entertained at an evening party at the Kremlin in their honor. One of them, Raskova, related afterwards how Stalin had joked with them about the prehistoric days of the matriarchate when women ruled human society. He said that in the early days of human development women had created agriculture as a basis for society and progress, while men “only hunted and went to war.” After a reference to the long subsequent centuries of woman’s slavery, Stalin added, “Now these three women come to avenge the heavy centuries of woman’s suppression.”

[...]

“Comrades! Citizens!” he said, as he has said often. Then he added, “Brothers and Sisters!” It was the first time Stalin ever used in public those close family words. To everyone who heard them, those words meant that the situation was very serious, that they must now face the ultimate test together and that they must all be closer and dearer to each other than they had ever been before. It meant that Stalin wanted to put a supporting arm across their shoulders, giving them strength for the task they had to do. This task was nothing less than to accept in their own bodies the shock of the most hellish assault of history, to withstand it, to break it, and by breaking it save the world. They knew they had to do it, and Stalin knew they would.

Stalin made perfectly plain that the danger was grave, that the German armies had taken most of the Baltic states, that the struggle would be very costly, and that the issues were between “freedom or slavery, life or death to the Soviet State.” He told them: “The enemy is cruel and implacable. He is out to seize our lands, watered with our sweat . . . to convert our peoples into the slaves of German princes and barons.” He called upon the “daring initiative and intelligence that are inherent in our people,” which he himself for more than twenty years had helped to create. He outlined in some detail the bitter path they should follow, each in his own region, and said that they would find allies among the freedom-loving peoples of the world. Then he summoned them “forward—to victory.”

Erskine Caldwell, reporting that dawn from Moscow, said that tremendous crowds stood in the city squares listening to the loud speakers, “holding their breath in such profound silence that one could hear every inflection of Stalin’s voice.” Twice during the speech, even the sound of water being poured into a glass could be heard as Stalin stopped to drink. For several minutes after Stalin had finished the silence continued. Then a motherly-looking woman said, “He works so hard, I wonder when he finds time to sleep. I am worried about his health.”

That was the way that Stalin took the Soviet people into the test of war.

[strwbmei]

hii! I’m quite new to your blog, but I’ve read some of your fics!

something’s been on my mind for quite some time and like.. furina fucking fem reader against the wall. I feel like she’d be teasing her little gf while making her beg for more.

can you make a fic about it please? thankyou!!

contains: transfem!furina, dom!furina, humiliation, cock worship, creampie, blowjob, reader is a bit feisty at first, dirty talk, cunt slapping, ass slapping, overstimulation, edging, name calling, badly translated french words, furina is a mean dom but the sex itself isn't really rough, not proofread, maybe ooc

pairing(s): pre-established furina x reader

a/n: first of all, i am so sorry anon. this fic ended up going way off-track from what you requested, but i hope you'll like it nonetheless!

Honestly, you're not sure where such a petite woman got the strength to lift you up and fuck you against the wall, but god, did you love and hate it at the same time. This position allowed her cock to hit angles you didn't even know was possible prior and render you into a moaning mess with little to no effort, and yet, it also allowed her to lord that fact over you while you're unable to do anything but endure her incessant teasing.

While the strength of her arms was evident with how she held you up with ease, it was nothing compared to the sheer force of her thrusts. Admittedly, Furina was on the smaller side of the scale, but her technique more than made up for it. Every time she moved her hips, her cockhead just barely grazed against your sweet spot, enough to drive you crazy but not enough to get you near orgasm.

She knew. She knew that you knew. It showed with the teasing smirk she wore on her face as she fucked you dumb. Your mouth was too busy moaning her name to protest just as your hands were too busy clawing at her back to give her a signal of some sort, not that she would ever listen, of course. You were powerless like this, and Furina loved it. The only thing you could do was try to glare at her through half-lidded and tear-stained eyes in hopes that she'd get the message.

And get the message, she did. "Is something the matter, mon chéri?" She asks, her smug expression turning into what looked like concern for you. It was an act that would have fooled anybody else, but you knew Furina much too well to fall for her many facades. She slowed down her thrusts, making you whine. You can see her let a sadistic grin slip at this. "Ah, right. I'm sure a slut like you was only telling me to go faster." Before you could even shake your head in denial, she started going at an even faster pace, effectively edging you even more in the process. The overwhelming pleasure and stimulation burned so good throughout your whole body. You hated how she could make even the most cruel acts make you feel like you were seeing stars.

What she wanted wasn't that challenging look on your face, no. She wanted you to beg; force the filthiest words out of that pretty little mouth of yours. She wanted a sort of obedience that only you could give her. A type of submissiveness she could only achieve once she broke you down. Maybe, just maybe, if you ask nicely enough, she'll consider giving you what you want. Your girlfriend was usually such a sweet person, gazing at you with eyes filled with nothing but love; yet she fucked you like she absolutely despised you.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart... I can't tell what you want if you don't use your words." A faux frown formed on her face because of the expression you had on yours. You were biting down on your lower lip, swallowing the urge to curse at her while your unending frustration shone in your eyes. As irritated as you were at the woman in front of you, you know your place. You know that one wrong move, and she could take away all of the pleasure you were feeling on a whim. It'd be best to do as she says if you plan on cumming at all tonight. "I want you, Furina." She grins devilishly. "Oh? But you already have me, do you not?"

She looked at you with expecting eyes and a wide smile. You know what she wants you to do. She set you down, leaving your legs sore and foreign to the feeling of the floor beneath your feet. The wet 'pop' sound made you realize just how empty you felt without her inside of you. Albeit hesitantly, you turned to her and got on your knees; just like how she trained you to. "P-please fuck me with your cock," you took a deep breath, cheeks flushing as you looked up to meet her predatory gaze. "and fill me up with your warm cum." As the words left your mouth, your stomach churned with both anticipation and a good kind of apprehensiveness that only she could make you feel. "Kneel."

The things you said weren't what pleased her, no. Although the idea is very appealing, what really got her wanting to hurry up and rut into that tight pussy of yours is how pathetic you look when you're begging. All teary-eyed and frustrated, it's obvious you don't want to, but you do anyway. She's more than delighted that you know your place. You do as you're told, ready to use both your mouth and hands to pleasure Furina when she suddenly speaks up, "Ah, ah, ah... No hands, remember?"

Fuck. You thought she'd forget, or at least spare you some slack, but you thought wrong. Just how sadistic can this woman get? She doesn't even try to hide how she thrives off of humiliating you; how willing you are to do even the most shameful of things at her bidding. Your hands rest between your thighs as you kiss the head of her cock, coaxing more precum to come out. You use it as lube to coat her shaft, eagerly taking more of her in your mouth as you bob your head up and down.

It seems your act of obedience and submission gratified her, if the cheeky smile on her face was anything to go by. "Enough. Hands on the wall." She said sternly once her cock stood proud and erect, reinvigorated by newfound lust. You followed her orders, making sure to keep a tight grip on the wall as you already know what's about to happen next.

Or so, you thought until she delivered a harsh slap to your cunt. The action made you yelp in a mixture of pleasure and pain. "Hm. You got wet from saying such vulgar words," If you weren't careful to hold onto the wall for dear life, you're sure you would have lost your balance. "Sometimes I worry about you." She sighs, palming your clit in rough circles as if to ease the very pain that she herself had just caused.

"You're the one who-" As you were about to retort, your words are halted as her cock spears its way into your cunt. It felt so much more... girthier than usual. She wasted no time letting you adjust to her size, immediately rutting her hips in a way that made her cock hit both fast and deep inside of you. "Oh, I'm sorry," she brings down her hand, this time to slap your ass. "Were you trying to say something, mon chéri?" She drew out the last part, as if to tease you for being so helpless in her hold. You had planned on staying silent, but much to your annoyance, she stopped her thrusting completely. It was clear that she wasn't going to continue, lest you answer her question. "N-no..." She smirks.

As time went on, her thrusts proceeded to get sloppier and faster. "Merde... Trying to milk me dry, are you?" She groaned, feeling your walls engulf her fully. "Greedy whore." She slapped your ass again, chuckling. You're reduced to a mumbling mess, barely keeping yourself upright while your knees buckle from the sheer strength of her hips. You can feel her cock twitch inside of you and her heavy balls tighten up, and you take a deep breath knowing what's to come.

Furina moaned lowly as her orgasm came crashing over her, almost at the same time as yours did. Panting heavily, she let her cock stay inside of you as the cum that came out of it seemed endless. You feel so warm and full with her seed filling your womb, and you couldn't be happier. "That's right, take it all... You better not waste a single drop." You can barely feel the sting of the hand bringing itself down on your ass, too focused on trying to keep yourself balanced. "Thank you..." You mumble, too delirious and cockdrunk to keep your dignity in tact.

You involuntarily let out a disappointed whimper as she pulls out of you after what felt like eternity, but all of that disappointment is washed away as she speaks, "Get up, sweetheart. I'm breeding all of your holes tonight."