#bodies as transient

[wickershells]

shadow by leonard nimoy, from ‘the full body project’

[salty-an-disco]

just had a realization as to why I find the Leave as Gods ending pretty chill and something I’d actually wouldn’t mind doing–

I’m nonbiney, xenogender, and relate more to abstract concepts than my own body, becoming a concept too great for anyone but yourselves and your literal soulmate to understand is literally my dream lmao.

[mister-eames]

Who’s mr furnace and who’s mr icicle man in the arthur and eames equation?

I love them being played out as both (love me some icicle feet Arthur) but I'm gonna say Eames is the human icicle and Arthur is the furnace. Who chose to live in a warm climate? Eames. I am endlessly amused by the idea of Eames and Arthur arguing about the thermostat settings. They own an electric blanket for their bed and only Eames side gets any use. Arthur bitches lovingly tolerates Eames' cold ass fingers and cold ass feet leeching his warmth at any given time. He makes Eames warm up his hands before his fingers go anywhere near his you-know-what.

Arthur has a metabolism like a goddamn road runner, this dude is always running warm. Arthur hates it. Eames loves it.

Once Arthur asked Eames why his temperature regulation sucks ass and Eames paused and said very solemnly---so solemnly that Arthur worriedly thought he was going to say he has cancer or something--- but all he says is: "I have... bad circulation."

Arthur builds him a sauna in their winter home. He tolerates the extra hot shared showers, and the doonas/duvets/covers that pile up on their bed(s). In compensation he demands at least a few months a year in their winter home which is only fair, relationships are about compromise after all. But he makes sure to pack all the beanies, gloves and scarves and luckily is very well versed at keeping his partner warm at night.

[welcometoteyvat]

nobody talks about venti and ei besides that they dislike each other a lot but no!!! they’re simply two sides of almost the same coin-- the different ways they deal with love and loss have shaped their countries, their ideals, and themselves in this essay I will -

[murraysiskind]

I do with perhaps a troubling frequency have the idea that cutting off my left arm above the elbow would solve a number of my problems but even when I'm at my craziest it never holds water for more than a few seconds cause I'm like well girl why...

[transient-butch]

made the connection earlier today about the similarities between the goddess-angel and princess-knight dynamic and i can't stop thinking about how those two combined perfectly describe my love and i :)

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I forgot the dark souls 3 dark ending also involved a waifu

Which is to say. I think it's interesting that in both of these endings, there's a level of. Well, togetherness I think, and intimacy. Like I'm teasing when I say waifu, but you do conspire together with the Firekeeper just as you conspire with Ranni, to bring about a new world order together.

And also interesting that these endings involve dependence and a degree of surrender. I don't believe you become a lord of anything choosing this ending in dark souls 3; Lord of Londor is the new spiritual successor of the Dark Lord. And it requires the assistance of your Firekeeper, whom you grant (forbidden) eyes to.

And they sort of copy paste that with Ranni; you summon her to usurp Marika just as you summon the Firekeeper to put out the first flame.

But you do become Ranni's lord, rather than lord to what appears to be a fractured and lifeless body; and in doing so you surrender the option to bring about a world and Order you see fit as Elden Lord (or to use a mending rune harboring the wishes of someone now dead, another interesting detail I just thought of), brandishing the Elden Ring, instead bending the knee to Ranni as she brings about her new order that she will lead.

And it's interesting here in Elden Ring, because all of the endings have the tarnished live and earn a throne of sorts instead of winning the esteemed honor to ritually sacrifice yourself or say fuck it. And only just now do I realize that most of the endings are collaborative in nature with the mending runes, but only with Ranni do you have a partner that yet lives, if only partially.

[acehigh-oddsnends]

hmm. thinking about what if the void wasnt empty. what if there were things in the empty void of their face and body sometimes. like eyes. or teeth. they can manifest shadow objects out of the patches of shadow on the corpse but sometimes things just come to the surface. :)

[wambsgender]

.

[l-cereta]

Like everything is pissing me off rn

[cannellaeluce]

one thing that I can’t let go of re: the locked tomb series is the statement I think it makes about identity and permanence and love. Like, I guess we all finished gideon the ninth being in love with gideon’s pov and with harrow as the person she is in relation to gideon. Then we landed in harrow the ninth and we were robbed of both, and I’m sure we all felt like we lost something, and we thought the end goal would be to get to the point where we would go back to having the thing that we lost: gideon’s vibrant voice and harrow’s whole psyche. and then we landed in nona the ninth and... 

I don’t know for ya’ll, but that’s when something in me shifted. phyrra was in the body of her most beloved adept and got to live with her longing for him and for wake redefining her identity; we didn’t care for her in the previous books, but we got to care for her now, and she was worth it. camilla’s body was both hers and palamedes’ and the coronation of their arc wasn’t to go back to how they were when we first learned to love them; it was to let go of both their individualities to become a whole new person, and we readers - just as nona - got to experience the pang at understanding that we were to let go of our concept of camilla and palamedes as individuals, while having to accept that that was the truest form they both could possibly achieve, that they felt no loss whatsoever, that what we perceived as loss was in fact their triumph. gideon - our beloved gideon - came back and she wore another name and we got to love her again, but names matter in this universe, and we had to deal with the pang of knowing that we could love her all the same, but she was - in fact - not the same at all, and when she antagonised our new main characters we found out in surprise that we resented her for it, that our loyalties had partially shifted. and then...

and then there was nona. nona in the body of harrow, who got to be loved as a person separated from harrow because bodies are transient and the soul is what matters. nona who was born to disappear in mere months, something the people around her knew well and which didn’t prevent any of them from getting to know her as a fully fleshed individual and to learn to love her all the same. nona whom we readers too understood at one point that was a character built to fade away. we could have decided not to invest in her, then. we could have decided to be annoyed at not finding harrow in her, at not finding gideon in her. but we didn’t. well, I didn’t. I understood she was born to die, and I chose to love her all the same. because isn’t it how it is? isn’t this how love is? we are mortal things who fall for mortal things knowing full well they won’t last. but we choose to love all the same. the impermanence of things isn’t a flaw ruining what should have been perfect; it is the very essence of things. we got to love nona even though she wouldn’t last. we got to love nona because she wouldn’t last. that’s all fine, in the end, because we got to love someone, and you can’t take loved away.

[samodivaa]

┊Impure Thoughts┊

《Part 2┊ Reader x Bucky Barnes?

Bucky is getting more comfortable with going out without the prosthetic. You are getting a little too comfortable with the idea of using it...as a pleasure tool.

Warnings - smut, metal dildo lmao?, mastrubation (f), fingering Words - 1700 ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ In the living room, you are settled on the couch with your book, but you pause halfway through reading a sentence when it finally sinks in. You have unconsciously placed yourself directly across the room from the armchair, and something seems to be filling your entire field of vision—Bucky’s metal arm—pitifully, the first coherent thought that emerges, is undoubtedly something that you have been thinking about these past weeks—you grind your teeth and chew your tongue. That is followed closely by the realization that this is probably an instinctual reaction born out of being alone for too long. Right? The thought has you swallowing hard while you feet the beginnings of arousal, you shift uncomfortably, crossing your ankles—the beginning of the end. Here it is again: that feeling of complete addiction, of an irrational kink, need. A craving, a thirst, blood rushing to your ears to chant in your mind once again: God, I want to try it.

Your eyes flicker between the book and the prosthetic. A ripple of gooseflesh erupts down your whole body and you squeeze your eyes shut in mortification, you even change positions and straighten your back, leading to several cracks up your spine. Why did he need to leave his prosthetic arm on the armchair?

You feel your jaw slacken. The inevitable desire floods your brain too quickly, irritation prickling at your chest. “He is not coming home tonight…” you note mentally with a magnanimous twinkle of your eyes. Two identical streaks of pink appear on your cheek and you avert your gaze, shaking your head. You have imagined what it might be like to use it as a pleasure tool countless times, but you have never considered that you would actually be bold enough to do it. But even as that transient thought flits through your brain, the image of your legs spread while fucking yourself on it…the fantasy swirls hazy— This is so wrong, but you are so exhilarated by it—but it’s akin to torture. You rub your eyes and try to focus on the letters and shapes, but it is difficult.

"Right," you mumble to yourself, trailing your fingertip under the sentence to steady your gaze "The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment…”

Fuck…

You have already read that sentence twice.

You attempt a denial, tongue stuck to your teeth “Some things are beyond help” you confess, smothering a yawn into your sleeve. You sigh impatiently, but get up from the couch nonetheless. As you head to the bedroom, you stupidly lean your body in the door frame, attempting to dispel the notion that you are so turned on just thinking about it. You let out a stealthy, thin smile, but you instinctually clasp a hand over your mouth. You stare intently into the prosthetic. Head clouding. Heart taking off again. It is not that you don’t want to do it now—it is more like you don’t want your little bubble to pop just yet, the bubble of your innocence. You have finally just given up on the feeble attempt to get your body and mind to settle down to sleep. Your phone, which you have ignored for some time by then, buzzes with a new text. The phone on the coffee table buzzes yet again, but you don’t even acknowledge it.

You make your breaths as quiet as possible, managing to walk over to the armchair without making the faintest noise. A growling soft leaves your throat, followed by an annoyed moan—mentally swooning at the idea you will actually do it this time. Instantly, you feel your blood run cold, and your face immediately falls. Embarrassment, that is all, just sheer and utter embarrassment as you find yourself caught in the act.

Quickly, you let out a nervous laugh, amused by your own antics.

“It's okay, no one will ever find out” you are quick to try to convince yourself, to urge yourself to take the opportunity. You lost in the end. You get on your knees in front of the armchair, leaning down to get in eye level with it before your hand reaches out and finds the metal fingers, using the pad of your thumb to brush against vibranium there. You lace the cold fingers with yours, they move so easily. ��you didn’t know that. You are far too entranced by the arm, that you have forgotten about the appendage pressed in between your thighs, until you shift a bit. Instantly, you feel that spot between your legs head up even more and that reminds you of the throbbing sensation you have been ignoring. You apply pressure with your free hand, prying a sharp exhale from your own lips, finding relief on the soft carpeted floor, and spreading your legs—but still the wetness between your legs is growing, and it is unbearable. You whimper as your fingers press into the clit. You start to rub circles into it as you soak the fabric. But you need more, it’s not enough. That's why you reach down and grab the fabric of your panties in between shaky fingers and gently pull it to the side, rapturously rubbing without the fabric in the way. No, this is not enough. Hands are shaking with desperation.

One by one, you place your fingers in your mouth and lick them before running them up and down your slit, finding yourself instinctually moving quicker. You slid one finger inside, shivering a little at the feeling. It is quickly followed by a second, then a third. You jolt in pleasure when your fingers nudge up against the spot. With newfound vigour, you finger yourself even harder. Your body fizzes with a heady sensuality, where you are constantly in the process of getting aroused, bringing yourself closer to an euphoric climax, but you don’t really want to orgasm like that.

You have such an unambiguously bad feeling—awful, really—but you couldn't look away, couldn't stop. But the nearness, the possibility of this fantasy becoming reality, it has dwelled in you for too long. Every embarrassment is forgotten. It has seized hold of your heart: desire is terrible. Your insides clench longingly at need to be filled, practically singing at the thought of something being buried within you. Your hand moves alternately in a frantic blur, then achingly slow, edging closer and closer, fingers are buried deep inside you while the thumb rubs your clit and lips, with you being so wet that you can hear your fingers' movement, but—No, no, no, this is not enough—the fingers are still inside you, moving in a now broken rhythm before stopping completely. You are so tight around your own fingers, how will you feel around the metal ones? You have fantasised about this more than once.

You have touched yourself to that fantasy more than once. “Jesus…I might actually do it” It is unusual to be so nervous, but the words that come out of your sweet lips cut off any rational thoughts you have. Then the inevitable—your pussy throbs at the idea. A reflex, a response, a curse. 

It is actually rather exciting that no-one will see you. You take a deep shuddering breath, eyes are stormy with a ravenous hunger. There are resolved cracks as your desires win this time. You latch onto the index metal finger hungrily and suck it like it's the sweetest treat, staying still for just a second before moving up and down, tongue swirling around the cold digit. Then, wrapping your tongue around a second finger and tasting the slightly metal tangy taste of the vibranium. You bend the fingers of your other hand in that come-hither motion again and again until your cunt is squirting out onto the hand in a stream of clear wetness.

Shit.

Suddenly, you get up and snatch the prosthetic from the armchair, heading to the bedroom.

Your lip quivers as you drink the sight of the arm onto the mattress, all the while loosening your panties and Bucky’s t-shirt you love to wear, but not now—whining through the back of your throat and then heaved breaths through your nose—What, what are you doing? Your mind whirres; you can hear your own heartbeat, your palms are clammy. You take the lube before laying on the bed, squeezing some onto your fingers and applying some to and inside of yourself before you start fingering yourself, spreading yourself open and sliding your fingers inside once again. Breathy little noises, helplessly turned on, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking into it as you turn your gaze to the metal prosthetic. “Okay…” you murmur quietly, shifting a little so you can grab the arm with both hands and finally align it with your entrance. You are beyond ready.

“H-holy shit…” you pant as the cold surface of the fingers lightly touches the sensitive skin of your stretched hole, and you moan shamelessly, squeezing your eyes shut and arching into the feeling as your skin erupts in goosebumps, unwilling to acknowledge the frissons of pleasure washing over you with each flick of the metal. Anger boils in your stomach as well as a fair bit of shame, because you are not sure if it will fit—it's way too big. You want to come on the metal, want to feel the coldness, but your face contorts in both pain as much as pleasure as you try to push it inside more. You make a strange whining sound, desperate to come, desperate to fit it beyond the knuckles—you gasp out when you begin to move it, thrusting in and out in a slow, grinding motion. You finally look down when you finally fit in more of it—your mouth hangs open and your limbs feel like they are frozen. You have made a terrible decision, you know you have when you see blue eyes illuminated with curiosity, horror…? 

“H-hey” you speak airly, shivering and groaning faintly as his coveting blue eyes meet yours.

Oh yes, you didn't check your phone.

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ might write a part two, i personally need more metal arm stuff fr :0

《Part 2

[anantaru]

𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐘

tighnari loves whenever you settle on his lap while he‘s eagerly working on his research papers.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 2.1k

୨୧ WARNINGS: .n.sfw, fem! reader, c.warming, making a mess, he‘s a lil tease as we all know by now

"t-tighnari."

you mewl out weakly, an absolute panting mess with a desiring flaming glare in your glassy eyes.

how long has it been since you've settled on his lap? bare and naked with only your shirt loosely hanging around your shoulders. Directly he had adjusted you over his tip, gathering himself into your sweet embrace.

tighnari wanted to feel it all. every brief kiss, momentary touch and each transient tap of your skin on his own. "it's too much." you push back against his chest but he kept you still without much power involved.

"what's the matter?" he sighs innocently while lowering his gaze to where your bodies connected. Damn him and his taunting nature, you've been stuffed of his cock for archon knows how long and he still did not move, one inch, not even now.

each rill could be perceived by your sensitive walls, the light curve of his manhood easily dug itself into a mushy place inside your cunt, nudging and prodding at the pulsating spots.

at the realization of the growing frustration dwindling inside and out of your quivering skin, he lightly parted his lips before swaddling one arm around your hips, tugging you to him.

he smells of earthy tones, flowers and clean clothes, mixed together with a sharpened musky scent that was weakly interlinked over his skin.

"do i need to teach you basic manners now? you can see i'm *still* occupied with my research."

you feel his slender hand dig into your disheveled, half opened shirt, delving your pussy more intensely against his stiffened member.

at this, he looks untouchable, fully in control of the situation the both of you had found yourself in. He's not innocent, you see a side of him no one else does and tighnari made sure to flash it out to its fullest extent.

to gather yourself close to him, you firmly sheathed your arms around his neck before speaking up, "I'll behave." a promise you should keep, "b-but please hurry up!" because who knows what he'll do if you mess it up once again and disturb his work.

"you promise?" his words came out in a silent tone, hazy and rolling off slowly, his warm breathing was coating your jawline before he playfully nibbled on the skin, his cloudy, darkened eyes closing for a fleeting second to indulge in your beauty.

"i pr-promise." you pressed your body onto him more as he could feel your breasts squeezed against his clothed chest, your erected nipples brushing over the rough materials when his tail shuddered at the sensual touch, setting his loins on fire.

a slight friction, just one, had you hiss back a silent moan as tighnari began to go back to his usual duty— trying to that is, lazily resting his head on your dampened neck and gathering his research papers with one hand while his other kept you still.

well, the predicament you found yourself in surely had you struggle when you delved your hands over his back, somehow trying to urge your boyfriend to touch you already.

the liquid fire in your veins poured through the entirety of your body as your stomach grew heavy with a deep knot in the pits of it all. There wasn't a possible way for you to stay calm or not move an inch when his tip was remotely hitting your shaking bundles like that, punctuated and forceful.

it becomes increasingly hard to keep playing his game, more so as you noticed your essence pooling out of your parted hole, slicking him up. You brushed away the bangs that loosely hung around his face, skimming through his hair as his ears lightly twitched at the mere, brief touch of you.

you're convulsing at the messy state, how sticky it had gotten in between your bodies made it far more difficult now to not voice anything at all. Your shallow breathing tickles the backside of his neck, coaxing out a broken hum with his tiny hairs sticking up.

"just a bit more." he's confident in his words, urging you to keep your cool, tighnari was barely faced by what was happening right now. Of course, you did not tell him that you couldn't wait any longer, who knows what he'll do if you decided to spit it out.

additionally, you now slightly lost the grab on yourself and your drenched hole was clenching down involuntarily, curling into him.

"a-ah wait." he suddenly spoke, breath hitching, his hand digging you back down before he could even finish his sentence, dropping his work for a short instance before averting his attention back to you. "f-fuck, don't do that."

it's a sound you didn't expect he'd make, not so fast at least. His brown greenish eyes were fixated on you now, the desperation in them difficult to ignore.

fuck, tighnari cursed himself underneath his warm, heavy breathing, the combination of your soaked pussy engulfing him and suddenly clamping down divulged new heights of awareness in his already extremely delicate senses.

"it wasn't on purpose." you panic, flinching a little when he retracted his body a bit further into the chair in which he accidentally bottomed out, completely catching you off guard.

eyes sprang open as your stuffed cunt ground down a little, mewling out crying as tighnari forcefully placed each hand on your hips to shush your movements.

but it was far more arduous now, impossible, you started pushing his boundaries with your small antics, shoving him towards the edge of pure bliss and he knows he shouldn't, he knows he should finish his work and make you a drooling, pathetic mess before he'd fuck your brains out.

the thrill of it was the worst, to see your breasts squished against him and your neutral body scent filling his nostrils, or how you clenched down at every breath he took, tensing down and letting go, tensing again, fluttering your hole on his girth with his ears twitching once more.

so gentle yet sweet, he dwindles back to suddenly capture your lips, pressing you close to taste your mouth. You're feeling glued to him, whimpering when he began to easily roll you back and forth. "fuck, y-you feel so good."

the admittance of it was all you craved to leave his throat, moaning into his lips as you let him use you, his dick soaked with your arousal and making it easy to slip in and out.

"tighnari-" your lips opened with a strangled moan, "i need you to fuck me."

in the first instance, tighnari went low, slow and featherlight, his work load since long forgotten, he could dedicate to it later, it was futile to force himself now since he wouldn't be fully there with his mind.

his hands were tightly holding onto your skin and eagerly squeezing the flesh in his palms, a smirk curving on the sides of his mouth, his dangerous glare had a desiring shadow surrounding them.

"now now?" peppering your jaw with tiny kisses, he continued, "you really want that?"

you held onto him before deciding to slightly raise your hips, signaling him in other ways than using words and adding onto the chorus of sweet euphoria. Plunging him into you, inch by inch, while noticing how much he too, was enjoying this right now.

with the way it was going, his member was thoroughly splatted with your white, sweet slick as you milked him dry, fat drops of his pre cum smearing down both on your hole and around your puffy folds, sticking together.

he was desperately pulling you up and down in an even pace, doing most the work and groaning when you sought after his lips again, languidly running your tongue over his mouth before capturing them in a starving manner.

tighnari was bottoming out of you like he's addicted and thirsty, in heat, rolling and hammering his cock into the mushy flesh, his moaning turning you giddy and hot when it ghosted over your sweat covered face.

"k-keep taking me like that." he's whimpering on you, almost commanding that he can become once he's especially riled up, "you're so warm."

he's painfully throbbing within your walls, the sloppy noises only eliciting the thick tension surrounding your soaked skin, rubbing his cock head into the deepest parts of your pussy.

at his words alone you could cum undone, the yearning expression on his eyes stuck to you, stretching you wide, his thoughts were truly messy and fucked out now, expressing no bounds.

not knowing what to do other than hold onto him for the life of you, you were chasing your hot climax building in your tightening stomach, pulsing on his cock while you embarrassingly moaned his name, bubbling out filthy words to show your gratitude and love.

"i'm so close- please." your thighs were straining, it hurt and you didn't know how long you could stay in that position, forcefully making tighnari look at you with your eyes bristling warm tears, splattering the wetness on both your lashes and cheeks.

"w-where do you want me?" he's jerking his hips up and using you as his personal cocksleeve, once, twice, endlessly as he panted through each of his words, "inside, c-cum inside please."

your sobbing turned messily, sniffing and crying out when he abruptly gathered newfound strength on your core, every slick noise releasing the tension in your heat.

he is relentless when he fucks you, when he claims and occupies your inner being, grazing over your delicate insides with his tip, his balls so tight and hard ready to be emptied, milked by your sloppy cunt.

He wanted to find himself deeper and split your thighs further apart, not that it was possible to somehow spread your legs more, you were already at your limit.

each thrust from downwards sent you spiraling, the ringing in your ears taking a hold of your thoughts, like a terrifying virus gnawing on its host, vibrating through your pulsing veins.

with the last couple of drags, you pressed your hips forward and squeezed hard, tighnari shuddered at your bold move and his body tensed at the tight euphoria he was experiencing once you climaxed on him.

his hips were violently stuttering, shallow breathing on your skin when you clamped down fully, crying out and moaning, your slick covering his entire length but he did not stop and fucked you through your intense orgasm, gifting you with overstimulation that had your vision switched to white.

something different, name it a carnal desire, soon awakened in him, in a fleeting moment, as he unraveled, the thick rope in his stomach abruptly snapping in two, messily spilling all his toe curling load into you.

tighnari was smiling against your shoulder and kept going, groaning through a clenched jaw, his hips stuttering and vibrating when he couldn't stop pumping his sticky cum in you, smearing it over your velvety insides when you whimpered and cried at the feeling of a warm sensation capturing you.

his tail was twitching and so were his ears, those two traits in particular always making sure to show you how much he had enjoyed this, how much glee he felt in greedily stuffing your precious cunt.

"aah- fuck." a whiny noise hit your ears, his words were breaking onto each other, "fuck- fuck!" he's sobbing uncontrollably, still pressing you down on his cock and you whimpered, you were so sensitive and shaky, your legs were all the more spent and tired out, feeling numb.

he came a lot, so much it wasn't able to fit all into you and it gradually dribbled out of your loosened hole, pooling down his emptied balls and drenching the cold, wooden floor.

it wasn't easy to articulate and form any sentences by how hard he had fucked you and made you climax as you were limply laying on him, breathing hard and resting your heavy head against his sweat glowing neck, letting his musky scent roam through you.

at this, none of you decides to speak, rather stay calm for a second and bath in your afterglow, seeking comfort in your body heat and recovering from the violent orgasm that felt like an electrified current falling down on you.

tighnari decided to speak first, "we made a mess." he smirks, letting out a half broken moan as he clumsily pulled out of you, his softening member laying limply on his stomach, somehow still pulsing and aching.

to add to the attempt in making you flustered, you barked back, "no, you made a mess." killing the empty space in between your faces you cradled him, peppering his cheeks, nose and his plump lips with soft, sloppy kisses.

the both of you laugh at each other breathlessly, stroking and caressing your tired bodies and spending the additional quality time you had gotten together now.

©2022 anantaru do not share, copy, translate

[slowlymyavenue]

Bubble Wrapped Bimbos

There’s an implicit understanding around the idea of a bimbo that it is an easy thing to be. A bimbo doesn’t have to worry about very much, certainly not thinking. They are free to bounce, bubbly, brainless, and spend their energy focusing on the more fun things: sex, for instance.

Bounce.

I respectfully disagree. Thoughts can be very pesky things, and ridding yourself of them isn’t always a simple task. Many bimbos subscribe to the philosophy wherein the process of bimbofication involves having their brains removed, their intelligence compromised, their thoughts turned to bubbles to float away into the ether.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Which isn’t to say there’s anything wrong with that, of course. But a bimbo doesn’t necessarily need to be absolutely brainless, nor even to have their intelligence drained at all…and certainly not permanently. Part of the appeal is often in the transient nature of the transformation.

For now, we’ll focus on the brainless sort of bimbo. Perhaps later we can explore the alternatives.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

After all, there is something to be said for allowing your thoughts to become bubbles, creating that light and airy feeling in your head. It is, I suspect, a little easier to feel like a bimbo when those thought-bubbles begin floating and bouncing around in your head, and especially once they begin to pop.

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

But what happens when your thought-bubbles are being stubborn, when they don’t behave like the slick and oily bubbles that pop so simply? There are a few options. First, let’s consider another kind of bubble: bubble wrap.

You know what I mean, I’m sure. You’ve felt the enjoyment of popping that plastic packaging to release the air sealed inside. You’ve also found that some bubbles are easier to pop than others – sometimes you can roll the wrap along your fingers and appreciate the sound of so many rhythmic pops, but other times you have to apply some additional pressure before you receive that anticipated reward.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Some of the bubbles can be downright frustrating, I know. The reward for normal bubble wrap is that giggly, somewhat silly, glee; it’s a lot of fun, and downright cathartic. But for your thoughts? The reward is becoming a brainless bimbo, and feeling the combined physical pleasure and mental relief when the thoughts pop and escape, leaving that wet, pink lust behind.

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

It’s a very compelling reward, isn’t it? You’d happily apply as much pressure as it takes to pop those thought-bubbles, but perhaps you aren’t quite sure how. There’s a line here about how that might mean you’re already more brainless than you expect, but we’ll skip that for now. Instead, consider the source of the pressure.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Pressure around your thought-bubbles can come from the simple act of bouncing, of course. It can come from my words flowing steadily into your mind, perhaps repeating like an echo that escalates until the pop. In the first case, you’ll simply bounce a little harder; in the second, repeat my words either aloud or in your head to ramp up the pressure. But those aren’t the only methods.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

You see, we can also soften the surface of the thought-bubbles. You want to be a bimbo, after all, or you wouldn’t be here – you certainly wouldn’t have made it this far into a script designed to make you a bimbo. But I expect it’s more than casual want. You find the idea of becoming a brainless obedient bimbo arousing. It turns out that arousal softens bubbles…don’t take my word for it, though, let your focus shift to the intensity of that arousal, and feel the way the resistance inside your thought-bubble changes, as if the pressure is suddenly coming from both sides.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainwashed bimbos must obey.

Now there are three methods to ramp up the pressure on that stubborn thought-bubble of yours: bounce a bit harder, repeat my words to yourself, and focus on how aroused being bimbofied makes you. The bubble-wrap doesn’t stand a chance, especially when you recall how intensely rewarding that pop is going to be. Raw pink pleasure drenching your suddenly vacant head, freeing you to be the giggly, bouncy, brainless bimbo you want to be.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst,

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.

Brainwashed bimbos bounce blankly.

Blank brainless bimbos bounce.

As rewarding as the pop will be, wouldn’t it be better to feel that over and over again? Of course it would. There’s a less common method of making bubbles easier to pop that we’ve just unlocked – making a single, large bubble into a bunch of much smaller ones. Even if you’ve already popped the thought-bubble, it’s surprisingly straightforward to imagine any remaining thoughts, brains, or some part of your body covered in bubble wrap.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Lots of tiny bubbles are much easier to pop, as you know, which means all you’ve got to do is pick your favorite method: bouncing, repeating my words, or feeding your arousal. Then the fun can really begin…you get to bounce, chant the bimbo mantra, or touch yourself, and enjoy the immensely satisfying sensation of all of those pesky thought-bubbles popping in rapid succession.

I’d tell you not to worry about the implications of being bound by bubble wrap, or the inherent silliness of the concept – but we both know you’re already past that, or giggling about it while you obey. So instead, give in to your chosen bubble popping method.

Bounce whichever way you find feels the best, repeat my words again and again, or bring yourself to a bubbly pink bimbo orgasm. Or, perhaps, try every method just to make sure you don’t have any pesky thought-bubbles left by the time you’re finished.

As for the transient – sorry, big word, let’s go with “temporary” – nature of the transformation, I’ll leave that up to you. When you’ve finished popping bubbles for me, you can drift awake with your decidedly un-popped brain functioning normally…or you can “wake” in bimbo mode for awhile, free to be bouncy and bubbly and giggly and horny for a few hours before the effect fully fades.

Bimbos bounce their brains away,

Brainless bimbos must obey.

Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,

Bursting bubbles blow pink.

Either way, as always, enjoy.

[txttletale]

Hi! Do you think you could link me to some resources about the problems/ evils of the EU? Would love to find some but it's hard to know what's reliable when I have no base knowledge in this area + you seem very well informed :)

sure. let's start with what the EU does to its own member states--in 2009, the EU bailed the greek government out of severe debt on the condition that they establish brutal austerity measures, cutting public spending and welfare. these measures served to immiserate and destroy the lives of thousands of greek people:

Greek mortality has worsened significantly since the beginning of the century. In 2000, the death rate per 100,000 people was 944.5. By 2016, it had risen to 1174.9, with most of the increase taking place from 2010 onwards.

[forbes]

Since the implementation of the austerity programme, Greece has reduced its ratio of health-care expenditure to GDP to one of the lowest within the EU, with 50% less public hospital funding in 2015 than in 2009. This reduction has left hospitals with a deficit in basic supplies, while consumers are challenged by transient drug shortages.

[the lancet]

The homeless population is thought to have grown by 25 per cent since 2009, now numbering 20,000 people.

[oxfam]

the most brutal treatment, however, the EU of course reserves for migrants from the global south. the EU sets strict migration quotas and uses its member states as weapons against desperate people fleeing across the mediterranean. boats are prevented from landing, migrants that do make it to land are repelled with brutal violence, and refugees are deported back to countries where their lives are in lethal danger. these policies have led to many, many deaths--and the refugees and migrants who do survive are treating fucking inhumanely.

After a perilous journey across the desert, Abdulaziz was locked up in Triq al-Sikka, a grim prison in Tripoli, Libya. Why? Because the EU pays Libyan militias millions of euros to detain anyone deemed a possible migrant to Europe [...] A leaked EU internal memorandum in 2020 acknowledged that capturing migrants was now “a profitable business model” [...] in Triq al-Sikka and other detention centres, “acts of murder, enslavement, torture, rape and other inhumane acts are committed against migrants”, observed a damning UN report.

[the guardian]

Volunteers have logged more than 27,000 deaths by drowning since 1993, often hundreds at a time when large ships capsize. These account for nearly 80% of all the entries.

[the guardian]

Refugees and asylum seekers were punched, slapped, beaten with truncheons, weapons, sticks or branches, by police or border guards who often removed their ID tags or badges, the committee said in its annual report. People on the move were subject to pushbacks, expulsion from European states, either by land or sea, without having asylum claims heard. Victims were also subject to “inhuman and degrading treatment”, such as having bullets fired close to their bodies while they lay on the ground, being pushed into rivers, sometimes with hands tied, or being forced to walk barefoot or even naked across a border.

[the guardian]

In September, Greece opened a refugee camp on the island of Samos that has been described as prison-like. The €38m (£32m) facility for 3,000 asylum seekers has military-grade fencing and CCTV to track people’s movements. Access is controlled by fingerprint, turnstiles and X-rays. A private security company and 50 uniformed officers monitor the camp. It is the first of five that Greece has planned; two more opened in November.

[the guardian]

i could go on. i could cite dozens more similarly brutal news stories about horrific mistreatment, or any of the dozens of people who have killed themselves in the custody of border police under horrific conditions. the EU is a murderous institution that does not care about the lives of refugees and migrants or about the lives of the citizens of any member state that is not pursuing a vicious enough neoliberal political program

[08luvmailz]

𓇼 I'VE REMEMBERED . . ਏਓ !

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 summary 𓍯 he remembered your favorite color — 🎙 contents : angst

The air bore the fragrance of scented candles, dry flowers and melancholy, a symphony of quiet sorrow woven into the tapestry of twilight, where memories slumbered beneath the dew-kissed grass of lost souls. The man's quiet footsteps, hesitant steps with the echoes of eternity echoing at the hushed place, reverberated through the sacred stillness of the sepulchered landscape. His eyes wandered across the cold tiles as his gaze, heavy with the weight of unspoken solace.

He is only here for one person, one destination. 

His youthful eyes clouded with grief and sadness but also a relief. Amidst the silence, a transient of his past, reading your name that fluttered between the dusty tombstone like delicate moths drawn to the flame of remembrance. He sat on the chilly grass as his eyes darkened while reading the transcript of the tombstone.

" It's been a while, my dear. " it burned, His throat tightened with hushed words or how the man's lungs crushed with every breath he'd taken. " I can feel you roll your eyes at me. It's been years since I've visited you. You must have been waiting for a long time. " He closed his eyes as he needed to capture the translucent tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

" Do you perhaps hear me? " his words are as gentle as the breeze on a cold Saturday night. It was all too ironic, too painfully evident for his aching heart. " You may not forgive me as I never visited you since the day... you've left me, your family," he confessed to the quietness. Acceptance was never easy in his forte, the cruel duty of how much he cared and loved. It was never enough to let you stay or bask in your radiance that once and finally left. 

The wind carried his burden but never left his body like the air he needed constantly breathe to live as years later, he never changed in the slightest bit. " I wish I could know more about you, so I can show myself, can please you. " In the vulnerability of his words, he sighed. The man found solace in the communion of utterances spoken to the wind. " The regret in my stomach filled me like butterflies, as I only wished that I could touch your delicate face as I confess my undying feeling for you. " His fingers brushed gently and tentatively against the engraved letters that etched the name of his one and only.

His hands gripped tightly to the flowers he brought for you. The smell of it wafted in the air as it reminded him what you smell like. It was different you, had a husky-like smell than these floral flowers but it was only a replica of what you smelled like as it was a mere comfort for him. " I've brought you flowers, it may not be your favorite. But it is your favorite color," he confessed, his voice a soft echo in the stillness.

" You may not see the full-bloomed colors of these flowers nor the color itself, I will be your eyes and nose to tell you that they are beautiful and smelled like you, a bit. " He quietly chuckled as his delicate-ragged fingers plucked one petal. The man's touch became an ode as he caressed the plucked petal, A caress to remember that transcended the veil between them.

My memory with you has faded completely, but I will always remember how you, loved these colors.

The rays of sunlight painted the blue sky as the scent of flowers flowed through his brain, the shadow of a lone willow tree twisted and shaped themselves as his figure standing like a lone wolf. His eyes formed from darkness and a hollow void of coloration turned into light like a burning flame like one that flowed crimson red to the skies. " This would be the first and last time that I would visit you; I would continue living my life… without you. " His lips quirked upwards, a smile that could clash with the sunflowers bathing in sunlight.

He moved on, from you. He finally did the next step on his journey

" You showed me things that I wished to see and this time I'm the only one who will see those things. You have my gratitude and that will always be impeccable and irreplaceable. " He laughed as he spoke those words, words of joy tickled by the melody of his laughter, swayed with a rhythm known as his greatest love for you.

He did it, you must have been so proud.

" Goodbye… my dear, I'll see you soon enough. Wait for me a little longer. " As he walked into the embrace of the sunlight caressing his face, with each step, the memories of you two faded from his view, his eyes wandered one last time at your tombstone as the sunlight beamed on the pavement. It was like an unfinished painting awaiting the strokes of a new beginning.

A beginning without you.

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