Just thinking about how I really let some fictional half demon DILF with a receding hairline and nasally voice become one of my favorite characters ever
Some extra digging reveals that the intent of this was not to actually extend the school day, but to make it mandatory for schools to provide activities and such that kids can take advantage of after classes are over for free so that low income families dont have to spend money on after school child care. Like boys and girls club, but every school in america is required to provide it. Which us a good idra, but it looks like everyone and their mother was wording it badly to make liberals and leftists hate it because republicans didnt want to spend more on schools to make it happen
everyone and their mother was wording it badly to make liberals and leftists hate it because republicans didnt want to spend more on schools to make it happen
So I found out the story of why my grandma stopped going to church
Now in my entire life I knew my grandma believed in God but not in going to church and I had never seen her at a church
But I did not know why.
Now I do
So my grandma was 15 years old and sang in the choir at the local Methodist church. World War II had been finished a year or two by now and a local man was running for state senate.
He was extremely wealthy from the lumber industry and owned the two local saloons. He was also friends with Grandma's parents and my grandma had seen him so drunk he couldn't stand.
But now he was running for office as a pious teetotaler
And during his sermon the minister at the church started preaching about why everyone should vote for and support this man:
"Considering the terrible things that happened with the war we cannot leave the world in the hands of young people!"
When the minister said that the only thing that prevented my grandma from walking out right then and there was her friend holding her back.
So instead my grandma waited until the service was over, calmly took off her choir robe, hung it up, and walked out to never return.
That's how offended she was.
Offended enough to refuse to attend church ever again in very rural and conservative America
Because in her words "how dare he blame young people for things that were entirely the fault of "old farts"
I share this for two reasons:
1. My grandma is a badass and I like people to know that
2. My grandma wants the young people to know that she is 90 and the idea of blaming young people for their parents and grandparents mistakes offended her at 15 and it offends her now
She has great faith in young people and really believes you can make the world better and she admires you all greatly
Hewwo friendos, I’m still on hiatus atm, but I had a very poignant thought hit me while I was hanging out my laundry a little bit ago, and it won’t leave me alone.
So the line “my family crest is the demon of death” in Bury The Light might be a cheeky reference to Yamato’s namesake. The kanji for Yamato is as follows:
閻魔刀
The third character is literally just the kanji for sword/katana/blade/what have you. But the first two, when put together, become Enma, sometimes called Yama, who is the god of hell in Buddhism. Enma judges which souls get to go to heaven, and which go to hell, which could possibly also explain the Judgment Cut naming convention?
But moreover, I think this lines up quite nicely in that the Yamato itself is the crest of the Sparda Family? Obviously this line (and the whole song in general) can be interpreted in many different ways, and they’re all valid, but I like thinking that, because the Yamato was so pivotal in canon - being the sword that cleaves through dimensions and creates portals and rifts and all - that this too, is just one more facet of Sparda’s legacy.
This is about all the brainpower I currently have though, my head still feels like it’s stuffed with cotton or something, making words and sentences is hard for me right now, but this is something I just wanted to throw out there, is all. Feel free to debunk this or expand on it, I’ll check it out…. at some point, I admit I’m only sporadically checking tumblr right now. In the meantime, I will return to my goblin cave and play vidya until I get off hiatus.
He isn’t the type to be overly aggressive in the bedroom, preferring the sweet push-pull reciprocation of giving and receiving. (What can he say? He loves to hear you cry out for him in your sweet, eager desire.) However, when indulging in a more specific brand of pleasure, he becomes notably more assertive.
Neither of you have talked about wanting children but he looks at you and says he wants to stuff you, that you’ll take all of his cum without a condom. You can’t wait.
Already quite talkative, he loves to praise you as you take everything he gives. He tells you what a good girl you are while he licks the shell of your ear and rocks his massive dick deep inside of you.
His weighted, calloused hand stays on your breastbone, holding you down as you observe the way his brows knit. He’s too strong to resist, not that you want to when he’s hitting you in all the places that make you see stars behind your eyes.
“Babe,” he rasps, husky and deep. “I wanna hear you beg for me.”
And oh, how you love to beg for him.
He can’t get enough of you; he has to put his mouth on you. His lips taste your jaw, your neck, your mouth as he captures you in a searing kiss and doesn’t stop, doesn’t fucking stop pistoning into your wet heat.
God, when the sound of your sex slapping mixes with the protest of the squeaking bed, he rides you faster. He’s slamming into you with abandon and he warns you of his climax as he calls you such pretty, pretty names.
When he comes, it’s with a low growl that rumbles in his chest. He bares his teeth and bites your shoulder as he squeezes you tight, and you bury your face beneath the crook of his chin. His hips stutter for a few extra pumps while you ride out your high with a scream of ecstasy.
You feel his seed shoot warm and thick inside of you and you clench around him, milking every last drop until he’s entirely empty. God, but there’s so much that it dribbles past his shaft while he pulls out, and you can feel it leak back out of your fluttering hole.
Dante watches with a grin. He reaches down to touch the mix of your juices with his cum, parts your labia to watch it drip, licks his lips and tells you with a pointed smirk.
“Beautiful. Yep, it suits you.” He leans forward to run his tongue along your throat. “But! Looks like we’re gonna need another round to make sure you got enough inside ya.” And when he winks, cheeky, painfully attractive with his hair disheveled and chest touched pink with pleasure, you devote your body to him the way you desperately desire.
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