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My name is Light Yagami

    Light Yagami copypasta

    Its the “My name is Yoshikage Kira” copypasta but changed to Light Yagami from Death Note.

    My name is Light Yagami. I am 23 years old. I live in the north east section of Tokyo where all the villas are and I'm single. I am a student at To-Ho university and I get home every day at 8 pm at the latest. I don't smoke but I ocasionally drink. I'm in bed by 11 and make sure that I get at least 8 hours of sleep no matter what. After spending the evening killing criminals and laughing maniacally for about 20 minutes I usually have no problems sleeping until morning. Just like a shinigami I wake up with no stress or fatigue in the morning. I was told that the world has come to worship me as it's new god lately. What I am trying to tell you is that I wish to make the world a better place. I take care to keep my identity hidden, like erasing my memory or killing my pursuers, that would only cause me to die a pathetic death. That is how I deal with this rotten world. Altough if I were to mindgame with anyone, I would never loose
    My name is Light Yagami. I'm 17 years old. My house is in a quiet residential neighborhood on the edge of Tokyo's university district, and I am not married. I'm a top student studying law and criminology, and I get home every day by 9 PM at the latest. I don't smoke, and I rarely eat potato chips. I'm in bed by 11 PM, and I make sure I get seven to eight hours of sleep, no matter what. After reviewing my notes for about twenty to thirty minutes and running through the day's logic in my head before going to bed, I usually have no trouble sleeping until morning. Like a well-rested person I wake up without fatigue or distraction. My last medical check-up showed nothing abnormal. I'm trying to explain that I'm a person who appears to wish to live a very quiet, orderly life. I take care not to invite needless enemies or petty conflicts that would disturb my plans or my sleep. That is how I present myself to society, and I know that control and clarity are what bring real justice. Although, if I were to be judged by action rather than appearance, I wouldn't lose to anyone.

    Gooning, gooning never changes.

      gooning, gooning never changes. In the year 1969, my great-great grandfather, serving in the army, wondered when he get to go home to his gooning setup and the edging streak he never finish. He got his wish, when the U.S. ended chastity by dropping a gat cloud on Heteroshima and Nagaysaki. The world awaited the Goonpocalypse, instead, something miraculous happened. We began to use homoerotic energy as a nearly limitless source of power. People enjoyed fetishes once thought in the realm of hentai. Domestic sex slaves, fusion powered dildos, portable vibrators. Then, in the 21st century, people awoke from the Wet dream. Years of masturbation led to the shortages of every major resource. The entire world unraveled. Cum became a distant memory. It is now the year 2077, and we stand on the brink of total ai wars, and I am afraid, for myself, for my dildo, for my cumstained bodypillow, because if my time in the gooncave taught me one thing; is that gooning, gooning never changes. 

      Gooning…. has changed.

      Gooning.... has changed.
      
      It's no longer about rule 34, masturbation, or boobies. It's an endless series of jerkmate battles, fought by mercenaries and machines. Gooning--and it's consumption of life--has become a well-oiled machine. Gooning has changed. ID-tagged gooners carry ID-tagged dildos, use ID-tagged gear. Nanogoons inside their bodies enhance and regulate their abilities. Penis control, Booty control, vagina control, body control…everything is monitored and kept under control. Gooning…has changed.The age of deterrence has become the age of control, all in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass goonbait, and he who controls the goonslop, controls history. Gooning…has changed. When the goonslop is under total control, gooning becomes routine.

      I’ve come to make an announcement: Sol Badguy is a bitchass motherfucker.

        By u/TriplDentGum, its the Eggman announcement copypasta but changed to Sol Badguy from Guilty Gear.

        I've come to make an announcement: Sol Badguy is a bitchass motherfucker. He counter hit my 6P. That's right. He took his Outrage fuckin' fiery Bandit Bringer out and he counter hit my 6P, and he said his hitbox was "this big" and I said, "That's OD". So I'm making a callout post on my Reddit.com: Sol Badguy, you've got a small hitbox. It's the size of this 5P except WAY smaller. And guess what? Here's what my antiair looks like. kou.png That's right, baby. Vertical reach, entirely disjointed, no blindspots, look at that, it looks like the caricature of a handgun. He counter hit my 6P, so guess what, I'm gonna autoguard the jump in. That's right, this is what you get! My super win neutral button! Except I'm not gonna autoguard the jump in. I'm gonna go higher. I'm anti airing the Bandit Bringerrrrrrrrr! COUNTER How do you like that, Vernon? I counter hit the Bandit Bringer, you idiot! You have twenty-three frames before the anti air llllllllaunchhhhhher hits my fucking c.S, now get out of my sight before I anti air you too! 

        Delhi is Truly Crazy

          Originated from a tweet by an Indian blockchain developer that became semi viral.

          Delhi is Truly Crazy
          I'm telling you, man, Delhi is absolutely unhinged.
          Tonight, heading from CP to Yashobhoomi, we were talking memecoins, Solana, Base all the usual crypto chaos. Our cab driver, Bhaiya, just slides right into the conversation.
          And this is where the world flipped.
          He calmly tells us he's seen two full bull runs. Then he drops the bomb: he exited Solana at $240 a few months ago, netting $65,000 USD profit.
          We were stunned, right? But he kept going. Six months back, he threw lakhs into Ethereum at $1,800 and took his exit at $4,400.
          He's a millionaire, a low-key crypto whale.
          And the final, unbelievable detail? He says he only drives the cab for 3 4 hours a day... for fun. It's a hobby.
          Seriously, a guy who trades six figures is driving us home because he's bored. The pure irony of it all is just beautiful.
          Nahh, man. Delhi is truly crazy. You just sat with a living legend.

          Own an AX Corsair for space defense

            Its the ‘Own a musket for home defense‘ copypasta but changed to the AX Corsair spaceship from Elite Dangerous.

            Own an AX Corsair for space defense, since that's what the Pilots Federation intended. Four thargoids break into my system. "What the Bloom?" as I grab my gold livery and plasma charger. Blow an SRV sized hole through the first bug, he's dead on the spot. Draw my AX Missile on the second bug, miss him entirely because it's dumbfire and nails my wingman's SLF. I have to resort to the shard cannon mounted at the top of my ship loaded with premium synthesized munitions, "Tally ho lads" the grape shot shreds two bugs in the blast, the sound and extra shrapnel set off system security. Full engine pips and charge the last terrified bugger. He bleeds out waiting on the Titan to arrive since triangular Corsair wounds are impossible to regen. Just as the Pilots Federation intended. 

            You see me at a bar. We flirt. I invite you home. You eagerly accept.

              You see me at a bar. We flirt. I invite you home. You eagerly accept. We walk and the flirting gets heavier. I open the door. You can't wait to fuck. I leave you alone on the bed for a minute. I come back with lingerie. We make out and start to get naked. I ask you to reach out under the bed and take something from the box. You look down and take a lego piece and ask if that's right. That's right. Put it in. You sure, you ask? Yes, I say. Put it in. You do, hesitantly. Again. Again? Yes, take another. Again. You do, unsure if you want to stay. Again. Again. Again. You sweat. You start to get worried. It's too late to be weirded out now. You wonder if you can escape before the next one. You can't. Again. Again. More and more. The box is getting empty. Again. You put the final piece in. I moan loudly and you hear everything, somehow, shuffling around. You can't even move at this point. You're too exhausted. I push a little and a lego millennium falcon falls out of me, perfectly assembled. Somehow, that's still the best sexual experience of your life.