#partially because it’s fascinating and partially because it’s a way to work through; process; and unpack my own trauma and experiences

[inkykeiji]

i was just completely blown away by your post about agnes and what you said, it really really really resonated with me. i relate to everything you said and i remember reading in a post a while back that he was in the hospital and you felt conflicted about seeing him. i understand that. i also have a complicated relationship with my dad and i just love him so much but i could also be so upset with him because of the things he's done to me and my sister and my mom. oo i can't type too much!! -🧁

oh wow cupcake, thank you so much for this!!! i really appreciate hearing your thoughts, and it’s once again super comforting to hear that there’s someone else who can relate to it as well <33

tw: mentions of drugs + abuse

family in and of itself as a concept can be and often is so incredibly complex, especially when there’s something like drugs and/or abuse thrown into the mix. a lot of people (esp people online, i find) like to act as if these relationships are black and white, as if these feelings and these experiences can be easily and neatly sorted into defined categories when the fact of the matter is, they aren’t, and they can’t. obviously, abuse is bad—this is an objective fact we can all agree on. but when that abuse comes from a family member, a parent, someone who was supposed to be there for you and raise you and love you, it really muddies things.

i love my father, but i do not like him. i am hoping i can find it in me to forgive him for what he’s done to us before he dies, but i’m not sure it’ll happen. i still hold so much anger and bitterness and just generally negative feelings towards him, and in my twenty-something years on this earth i have only JUST begun to work through this shit. and he doesn’t have much time left.

[pecanwriter]

Big Boy Mode: Activated PART 2

Themes: rapid weight gain, humiliation kink, technology-induced weight gain (so like, magic weight gain but for sci fi nerds I guess)

Words: 1147

Part: 2/?

Still as a 432lb(195kg) man, Elliott left the SimNano shop on shaky knees. They were shaky partially because of the sheer amount of weight he’d subjected them to, but more so because he just revealed his deepest fantasies to a handsome man and somehow managed to obtain that man’s number in the process. His system was fixed now, it would be easy to go into a changing room or a toilet stall and deactivate SimNano, bringing himself back to his real weight and walking out of the shopping centre as if nothing happened. The thing was… He didn’t want to. 

to the shopping centre in the first place was the hottest and most fulfilling experience of his life. Not being able to fit in an Uber, huffing and puffing with every step… This was all Elliott ever wanted. When he got it, he really didn’t think of using SimNano outside of the house, planning on living his fantasies out in private. What he didn’t realise, was that with the sudden addition of 300lb(136kg) he was unrecognizable. That completely removed the only worry he had; that someone from work or someone he knew would see him. If they did, they wouldn’t know it was him. After all, they’d just seen Elliott days ago, undeniably a thin 132lb(60kg) man. There was no way this immense, obese man waddling around and sweating as if he’d just run a marathon was the same person. 

Before making his way home, Elliott stopped at a few clothing shops. Picking up some ON SALE items in a range of different sizes, styles and materials. He’d received more than a few suspicious looks as he purchased clothes clearly too small or too big for him, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. Suddenly, adorned in his armour of flab Elliott felt invincible, shameless, absolutely free. 

When Elliott got home it was only 11 AM, he still had the entire day to himself before having to go to work at 8 PM. Feeling sweaty and sticky Elliott deactivated the SimNano and watched as his body deflated and shrank, making him thin within seconds, as if nothing had ever happened. He immediately missed the feeling of his fat flesh rubbing together and how hard it was to walk… But he didn’t think he could fit into his tiny shower with all that blubber, and he really needed to get himself cleaned up. 

When Elliott stepped out of the shower he had a text message waiting for him. 

There was no message, just an attachment, the file titled “Big Fun”. The was another file with a short tutorial on how to upload the program into his SimNano. 

If there was something that could get Elliott nearly as worked up as the thought of being fat, it was tinkering with electronics, so he eagerly set to work. 

The program was extensive and it took a while for Elliott to find all the right sub-engines and codes necessary for it to work, but when he finally did he felt like he’d won a lottery.

There were tens, if not hundreds of different programs and sub-programs. 

He scrolled through the menu on his SimNano pad, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of data. 

Finally, deciding to just go for it, Elliott clicked on the first one that caught his eye. 

The program was titled “Spoiled Little Piggy”. 

Elliott activated it and shivered with excitement as the tingling of the nanobots started to roil along his entire body. 

Feeling like a kid on Christmas Day, Elliott looked in the mirror. He was maybe about 250lb/113kg, which wasn’t that big, but he was gorgeous. There was an ample, rounded belly with adorable, soft love handles and a part of perky, floppy tits. His ass and thighs were blubbery and wide and with a fascinating texture of thick cellulite. Elliott rubbed it and jiggled it, fascinated, wondering how Omar programmed the nanobots to create cellulite. But what Elliott loved most about this program was that he still undeniably looked like himself. His face was fatter and with an adorable double chin, but it was definitely him. He could imagine himself getting lazy and being spoiled by a dotting boyfriend, slowly softening and widening, filling out, looking… Exactly like this. Elliott rushed to where he dropped the shopping bags after arriving home. He rummaged through them and found a pink t-shirt and a pair of baby blue basketball shorts that would be just the slightest bit too small for this spoiled little piggy. 

The shorts were digging into his soft love handles and fit very snuggly around his cellulite-ridden thighs, the shirt was obscenely tight, digging into his flabby upper arms and riding up his soft belly. 

Heart hammering hard with excitement, Elliott snapped a photo of himself from a low angle, featuring a sliver of underbelly and highlighting his double chin perfectly. 

Elliott: Testing your programs

He sent the message along with the photo to Omar. 

Omar: What a cute little piggy. But bigger suits you better…

Elliott groaned as the mere thought of being bigger sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He fondled his fat flabby gut as he scrolled through the other programs. 

One called “Apron” caught his attention. He had a sneaking suspicion of what that could mean, but there was no better option than to try for himself. 

Taking off the clothes so as to not destroy them in the process, Elliott activated the new program. His body bloomed and unfolded into new, soft shapes like a flower in the morning sun. It was big, it was heavy, he could already tell even before the nanobots finished their job. Getting to the mirror was way harder and took an arousingly long time as he waddled and huffed his way across the room. 

He was enormous, bigger than his biggest setting from the previous day. As he suspected, the name of the program referred to the belly settings; it was amazingly fat, soft and heavy, hanging in front of him almost to his knees, like a massive flesh apron. Although most of the weight seemed to have been placed in his belly, the rest of the body was nothing to frown about. Jiggly, swollen arms, not one but two rolls of fat under his chin. His ass was wide and drooping with the sheer weight of it. The overstuffed legs looked like shapeless sacks of flower and they jiggled with the slightest movement he made. 

He sent another photo to Omar.

Omar: Are you hard under all that blubber, big boy?

Oh, Elliott was hard, alright. He didn’t even know it was possible to be so hard. And the fact that he couldn’t even attempt to reach his dick didn’t bother him in the slightest. It was, quite frankly, the opposite of a problem. 

PART 1

[vasito-de-leche]

Hello!😄, I admire the way you write ✍️The way u never mischaracterized characters and the way you write them accurately is fascinating to read for ,and how you also took focus on small details about the character heck im starting to believe you work on the game R1999, if may I ask if you could write about Six from R1999 with a timid S/O or about a self-aware au of Six ? It had been my obsession of him after he came out and with his story making it more fascinating and made me attract towards him more

;R1999 6 - Self-Aware AU

Headcanons about how 6 would act upon becoming self-aware. Related to this Self-Aware AU post.

tysm for the kind words! I rlly like overthinking and overanalyzing stuff <3

I'll do the self-aware AU for this post to match the other one posted recently about 37, but feel free to send another ask if you'd still like 6 with a timid S/O!

There is a lot to be discussed about 6 and how all four characters of the 1.4 update contrast and complement each other so wonderfully, but I have a lot of trouble narrowing down what exactly I want to talk about here and what I should save for a proper analysis of the characters and the way I interpret them. So as usual, I ask that you guys bear with me with these trains of thoughts!

For starters, in my opinion, 6 is a very good narrative foil to 37.

Both focus on alienation and isolation from their respective communities, both are characters that struggle with the concept of fate, and both were born knowing their numbers--the key difference is the way each tackles this piece of information.

As discussed before in her own post, 37 does not question the reason why she's 37: like 210 says, "she stumbled upon fate at birth," and did not go through the same process of having to figure out one's number like the rest do. When it comes to 6, it's slightly different but the fundamentals are the same: he knows the number he will be assigned, and yet this revelation is not part of a natural process, it's something that us forced upon him and his family.

What I'm trying to say is that 37 and 6 weren't given the choice of discovering their soul numbers, and thus lack the most important part: the understanding of their own lives and selves. Compare this to 210, who became "too predictable" upon finding out his own soul number, or Sophia, who has clearly developed a very complex relationship with her own friends because of the inferiority and feelings of inadequacy she feels not knowing her own number.

And this is when the contrast between the two become clear: 37 is partially isolated from her community because she doesn't understand fate, nor the importance of one's journey, she doesn't respect the discovery of one's number. 6 is partially isolated from his community because no one else but him is able to see the concept of fate--or the Revelation--as a negative thing. His entire life, his entire bloodline is defined by fate and the Revelation, but only he understands the burden and the pain such knowledge entails.

Because only he has seen the way this Revelation takes over his loved ones, until they become strangers, mere vessels for infinite knowledge and bound to their role as perfect, eternal leaders. His character event shows the radical change in his aunt once she receives the Revelation and 6's fears of his entire self being rewritten once he receives it as well.

It's important to note that the moment Atticus becomes a proper 6 and receives the revelation happens on the very same day that everyone on the boat becomes a victim of the "Storm." Sophia's father and 37's mother were on that boat--but so was Alma, the current 6 at the time and Atticus' aunt. This event is crucial for all characters, as it cements their chosen paths: it's the study of the Emanation for 37, to continue her mother's research.

It's the day 6 will receive the Revelation and see if his efforts to prepare for it will amount to something.

And yet we know that 6 was able to withstand this Revelation without his entire self being washed away by the infinite amount of knowledge. We know this because we see him retain his hermit-like behaviour in the main story, avoiding people and preferring peace and quiet. We know this because, at the very end of this event, he says that the revelation is "just as simple as it is."

37 does not understand fate, but she doesn't fight it either because studying it won't change the fact that her soul number is 37. 6 understands and once feared fate, and he fought to resist it because his entire life, his memories, his personality and essence were at risk. I also really love that small detail about how 1.4 focuses on Plato's allegory of the cave, with 37 and 6 being put on this pedestal as those who witnessed the truth and came back to save the others--and yet, these two characters needed people OUTSIDE of the island to help them with their respective journeys (37 with Vertin, and 6 with Sophia). It just clicks so right to me!

In the context of a Self-Aware AU, I like to think that the self-awareness is something that comes with the Revelation. That every 6 before Atticus himself realized the truth of their world, similar to how 37 sees this self-awareness as yet another eternal truth. And because the number 6 is meant to represent harmony and perfection, they understand more than anyone that to ensure the peace in Apeiron, they cannot allow others to know the truth. Think of it as the whole deal with Pythagoras and irrational numbers--the discovery of irrational numbers ruined the whole system.

I think that a much younger 6 would've been distraught at this information, to know that Alma was the only person who was "real" and that he began to drift away from her because he couldn't recognize her anymore. But now, after receiving his Revelation and becoming the new leader, he might be more focused on appreciating life as it is. Why would he be bothered by knowing everything so far has been a script? He's already been haunted by fate his whole life, this is, in the end, the same thing. Of course, 6 is a philosopher in his own right, despite knowing pretty much everything there is to know, I think he would like to ponder about the more existential issues and topics that come with self-awareness.

I also like to think that his self-awareness and the Revelation come with knowing how the story will develop, at least in relation to Apeiron. He knows of Vertin's arrival, he knows of Arcana's schemes, he knows that by the end, Apeiron will be revealed to the human world. 6 believes it's impossible to change the course this game and its story, and the best thing he can do is help everyone prepare for it--I like to think that's why he specifically sent 37 to greet Vertin and the rest!

When it comes to finding out about the Player, I already said in 37's post that it would be very nice if she could see the player, but not hear them. And to contrast that, I wanted 6 to hear the player, but not see them.

The Player's existence is the one thing that 6 cannot pinpoint nor rationalize. He listens so very attentively when you speak, and he quickly realizes that you are not part of this infinite stream of knowledge from his ancestors, you're ... Just a person. What are you trying to teach him, if that is even your goal?

At first, I can see him struggle with this strange presence interrupting his very much needed alone time, choosing to remain silent until you go away, but he would grow to find it comforting, similar to his friendship with Sophia when they were children. You are an outsider, you're not part of this little world he lives in--you can offer a refreshing and different perspective. Once he's used to this new change, perhaps he will speak again, either to ponder out loud about your existence or monologue about whatever might be occupying his mind. Unlike 37, he wouldn't tell a single soul of your existence, largely because he believes it's something unique to him, entirely unaware that there's someone out there behind the screen rooting for him.

[ashroomancer]

I recently went to Temperance River State Park in Minnesota for a camping trip and figured I'd share some photos and cool facts with Tumblr about it.

The river itself! The surrounding cliff sides are a fantastic example of the eroding power of flowing water over rock when given a long enough time to work. The water would pool into "bowls" in the rock that developed as water formed pools that would develop a whirl whose force and movement would erode the bowl making it larger. Once they eroded enough the river would continue down the cliff. You could see these bowls all through the river and in the above pictures!

The water was fairly murky and had a mild sheen as well as formed bubbles throughout. This is because this far north the water flowing south into Lake Superior (which Temperance does) will have water flowing into it from bogs. About 20 miles (32.2 km) is the Cascade River and its state park named after itself which also flows with the same coloration and foam and drawing from some of the same bog lands. Minnesota's north eastern third is a coniferous forest biome and the decay of pine needles and other plants that grow in the region lower the pH in the wetlands of the region around them, which is how the bogs develop. Scotland's peet bogs are developed in the same way.

These conifers have adapted to grow into the rock faces of the area as well. The rocky region is partially due to a volcanic history in the region meeting ice age glaciers. Glaciers that largely made Minnesota as ecologically and geologically fascinating as it is. The melting of the glaciers here started the process by which this, and many over rivers and lakes here formed. As they melted the flowing water formed the divots in the ground that the future rivers would later carve their paths deeper into. You can still see those layers in the rocks in the above image.

I saved my most gorgeous image for last. A lot of this information came from local signage but also from my long history of learning about the ecological minutiae of my home through interest and study. I know not everyone can make it to places like these so I hope this slice of my adventure could bring you even a sliver of the joy it brought me a marvel at it in the context of my love for nature.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Mileena x Earthrealmer Reader

It hasn't been long since you been individually stationed in Outworld, and you've already been detected by someone or something.

Yes, it's partially your fault for being a lousy Special Forces soldier/spy, but you've been through a lot to even give a damn. It's not like you can't take care of yourself, but if you get captured by the enemy and killed, then that's just what happens.

You returned to your small camp in an oasis outside from Outworld civilization in hopes of nothing following you.

While you were sharpening your knife, you heard rustling leaves behind you that didn't follow up with the wind blowing through the area. You let out a sigh of annoyance, realizing you weren't alone.

"Come on out. I can hear you!" You called out without looking up from your knife.

"Filthy Earthrealmer! What are you doing in Outworld's lands?" A feral feminine voice hissed out from the bushes surrounding the camp.

'That sounds like...'

Recognizing the familiar voice you peered up to see the well-known, unnaturally created kombatant with such a personality...

Mileena.

It's much easier to identify her by her choice of color for her clothing, but you were just most likely a bit surprised to see her rather than anyone else who could've stalked you.

"Wow, I could have never seen this day coming. Did you follow me here?" You fully faced her, suppressing any type of hyped emotion you had.

"Don't ignore my question, you imbecile!" She said a bit more agitated, along with pulling out her sais, taking a step towards you.

"Apologies. I'm just... camping, ma'am." You quickly came up with.

"A pathetic lie won't work on me, Earthrealmer! You're lucky I'm not that hungry to feast on your flesh!"

"Well, are you still gonna kill me and maybe put my body in a refrigerator? If Outworld even has those." You asked, readying your knife in case she pounces.

"Gah! You should be trembling before me! Not asking such ridiculous questions!"

Your lack of fear for Mileena was making her mad, but truthfully, it's not just because you're not that frightened, but you read her file back at base. It would be a lie if you say you don't find her fascinating.

On a quick note, Mileena pulled down her mask to reveal one of her infamous features of herself; her monstrous teeth.  Sincerely a well-known factor or a Tarkatan.

"Scared now, human?" She chuckled in her usual seductive way.

Not to her liking, you didn't react to it. What made you unsteady was her piercing gaze of growing impatience.

"Look, it's not that I'm scared of you," you started off, realizing how offensive the beginning would sound to her,"BUT, I just personally find you thrilling in a... cool way." You rubbed the back of your neck.

Mileena was rather confused about your words. "Is this your way of trying to escape your fate? With false flattery?"

"I'm not lying. As much as it sucks that you eat my kind and I'm mostly next, I find you bad ass. It's not every day a feminine feral figure like you exists."

You weren't attentive towards how your words were subtly calming the former empress.

"Also, from what I heard, you're not really a monster. You lost someone you loved. Not trying to be touchy or reopen that wound before I die, but "

You frown at a feeling that took you a while to shove down.

"I know what that's like."

After a few quiet seconds, your heart sank from the seem to be awkward moment you caused.

'God, let her kill me already.'

"Stupid human, just go back where you came from." Mileena muttered, putting her mask back over her mouth before quickly disappearing back into the bushes.

You only stood there, still cringing from the awkwardness you caused. Is this how you escape the flesh eating empress?

---Time skip to evening, brought to you by me praying for Nightwolf and Fujin to be added in mk1---

It was about late evening, and you sat near your campfire, still processing what happened previously during the day.

'Did she feel bad for me? I don't get why she just left just like that.'

'Or maybe, again, she felt awkward too, and I killed her mood to kill me.'

"Ahem."

Your attention was immediately grabbed by whomever. You looked in their direction only to see it was Mileena again, staring down at you from the other side of the campfire.

"Oh, hi. Are you finally hungry?" You slipped a small smile.

"If I was, you'd be dead because of your lack of awareness just then." She sharply said. Her tone wasn't that aggressive like the first encounter.

"Right... So what is it you want from me then?"

"Why are you here?"

"All I can tell you is I'm Special Forces. The rest is classified information."

"I'll kill you if you don't tell me."

"Well, the general will kill me if I tell you. And I would rather die with honor." You huffed before staring at the bonfire.

There was silence again, but it wasn't like earlier.

Mileena walked around the fire and next to you.

Any weary person would move from her, concerned if she was gonna attack, but you didn't. Perhaps you were waiting for her to do it?

She didn't attack. She just sat down beside you as if a lonely person found their fellow lonely friend somewhere unfamiliar.

The moment would be described as... comforting?

"Why are you actually here?" You asked.

"Did you really mean those words from earlier about me?"

She looked right at you. Her eyes seem to have some sort of desperation in them. But you looked past that for the moment.

"I did. I'm sorry about that, though. I didn't mean to spill out like that. I wasn't trying to ruin your mood to kill me or whatever." You looked down in shame.

"If you're speaking the truth, don't be. I never met a soul that shares the same pain as I do."

"I see. I work with plenty of people who also lost loved ones. However, I still just feel alone about it no matter what. It's a terrible wound that permanently stings."

"You're a very unique human. What is your name?" Mileena asked. Elder Gods, how you didn't see this coming.

"I'm Y/n. And if you don't mind, I'm supposed to be here for a while." You smiled again at her.

"I don't mind, but the second you turn on me, I'll flay and wear you like cattle." Mileena warned.

"I'm not planning on it, don't worry." You laughed a bit.

You looked to your side at a duffel bag and reached for the candy bar you saved. You wouldn't be surprised if it was melted.

"Does Outworld happen to know about chocolate?" You asked while opening your snack.

"Does Outworld have chocolate?! Of course we do! What type of bizarre question is that?!" Mileena shouted in a annoyed, yet a bit humorous tone.

"Okay, okay, my bad! Here, try some from Earthrealm." You broke off a piece and handed it to her.

You awaited her reaction as she quickly consumed the piece within seconds.

"I'm not a sweet tooth person, but," Mileena paused for a second. Then she looked back at you.

"Outworld's chocolate is better than whatever you gave me."

Your eyebrows twitched as you looked at the candy brand.

'Hershey's'

"If you say so, almighty one."

Both of you spent some time chatting, unknowingly warming up to each other. You both were aware this could cause troubles on both sides, but you paid no mind to it.

It's been a while since you connected with someone like this, not trying to brush off friends from SF.

Soon, you rubbed your tired eyes, and Mileena noticed this. "You must be bold to sleep here without concern of something catching you."

"There's nowhere better." You yawned.

"Since I've taken a liking to you, I can offer you a safe, much more comfortable place to rest. However, you tell no-"

"If I told my team I casually spoke with the daughter of Shao Kahn like friends, I'm sure it would end very bad for me. I like you too. You don't have to worry about me getting you in trouble." You cut her off and explained.

"I'll stay here for just this one night. Tomorrow, I take you up on the kind deal. Mkay?" You stood and looked at her.

Mileena did the same, preparing to leave. "Fine then. If a Tarkatan finds you and eats you, it's totally your fault." She says with humor.

"It totally will be. But, goodnight, Mileena. Thanks for not killing me."

Mileena looked at you with a warming facial expression. "I'll see you tomorrow, Y/n." She purred before taking off swiftly again in the oasis.

As you put out the fire and laid to rest, a thought suddenly popped in your mind.

'Was she flirting with me on that last part?'

[variousqueerthings]

me and my mum were listening to danish news about how rigshospitalet (basically the largest hospital in denmark) was cutting back on costs by no longer covering the costs of tattooing nipples on breast-cancer cis women patients who have had breast re-construction, which is paid by tax payer money/free on the hospital

and that's all a discussion about gender reaffirming care!

whether or not the nipple counts as "distressing enough" is a thing I won't get into (I am personally getting mine removed -- opposite gender affirming care!!! same-but-different) -- what is interesting here to me, is firstly that what is being argued -- the big fascinating hypocrisy at the centre -- is notably not whether or not cis women need to prove a significant amount of psychological distress by speaking to psychiatrists and jumping through segregated healthcare hoops

and yet in denmark trans people do have to do this in order to access care -- not to the same amount as in some countries (notably it is done at the hospitals, but as far as I'm aware it's only the two main hospitals in Denmark that offer it, and it's not legal to go private within the country), but that is still the process and was until not-so-many-years also including forced sterilisation

the idea that a cisgender woman might feel significant gender-based distress at not having breasts was not in question in the discussion my mum and I were listening to

the other thing that is interesting is that the person at the rigshospitalet who was arguing that the nipples was too much cost was a cis dude. and of course cis dudes can have breast-cancer, but I have a feeling this guy was not speaking from that kind of thinking + of course the weight of "being a woman who has breasts that look like people think breasts should look" is an issue that he would never have to deal with, and so there was indeed an example there of a doctor who was not taking cis women's dysphoria seriously and arguing a (partial) rolling back of care on this basis

to what extent do cis women have to contend with looking "enough" like a woman because of misogyny? to what extent can one argue the dysphoria they feel is an innate idea of the self that doesn't match with what they see? to what extent is it a reaction to a different traumatic event (the scars a reminder of having been sick)? to what extent is there a cultural disgust against scarring that ought to be unlearned?

I'd argue that for the particular question of whether they deserve the care right now, those questions aren't going to help. offer the care and we can dismantle harmful notions about "correct" womanhood next to it (putting the ball in the court of a far bigger sandpit of societal work we need to do), and at the same time be cognizant of how that hits trans women 100 times over just for existing and having to perform hyper-femininity or else it doesn't count but is also demonised for being a performance, and in a different-but-similar way hits anyone who is assigned female at birth who is trying to build a space of non-conformity and/or masculinity and being scrutinised for "always" being a female while also being masculine traitors (just look at responses to elliot page) (just look at butches regardless of AGAB full stop)

I am supportive of cis women (and cis men) receiving gender affirming care. now they need to be supportive of me and mine receiving the same

[basilthymee]

Two Fibers Intertwined lore dump!!

Get ready im going to talk about these two creachers sooo much:

Constructed later on during the ancient’s existence, Two Fibers Intertwined is an experimental Iterator made by combining two previously scrapped iterator supercomputers. The ancients theorized that, if an iterator had two times the processing power, they would be able to reach that elusive triple affirmative easier.

2FI, being comprised of two iterators as well as double the machinery and neuron flies, requires an immense amount of water to operate, thus being constructed in the middle of a massive lake, now infested with leviathans. As such, it was also built far away from other iterators present in their local, to avoid any possible damage due to the mass water intake. The torrential rains around their superstructure are especially brutal as well, making access to the superstructure more difficult than usual.

The can has three possible access routes:

Perilous Walkway: The main bridge, now deteriorated with age, is the most straight-forward but dangerous route, littered with vultures and lizards, any brave slugcat that attempts to pursue this route will be met with a harsh challenge, but an albeit quicker way.

Flooded Transit Tunnel: An underwater connection to the bottom half of the superstructure, this tunnel was originally made for the transport of bulk materials to Two Fibers Intertwined. With age, the tunnel partially flooded. The route through the transit tunnel is definitely the safest alternative out of the three, as vultures cannot reach underwater! This section provides a much easier time for any curious slugcat, as long as they watch out for the leviathans and centipedes littering the interior of the tunnel!

Transmission Towers: A series of supermassive pylons connecting the superstructure to their communication array, this path is by far the most dangerous one to take. Any slugcats traversing this path won’t have to worry about any torrential rainfall, as its wires extend far above the clouds, but will have to watch their steps as several tesla coils have remained active over the years, making some surfaces especially fatal to touch. On the upside though, there's a surprising lack of animals at this altitude! Vultures very rarely swoop down (probably due to all the electric discharge present).

After the disappearance of the ancients, 2FI decided to give itself more individuality, calling its two iterators “1” and “2”.

1’s favourite activity is botany, she often sends her overseers around the land to investigate and catalogue all sorts of variations in vegetation in her local group, she also dabbles in genetic experimentation somewhat, although not as much as her brother. 1 is relatively level-headed and calm, although she can come off as cold and uncaring, especially towards the wildlife or any iterators outside her local group, or anyone she isn't acquainted with in general. 

Before being scrapped and becoming 2FI, 1’s former name was Ripples Within Ripples (RWR).

2’s favourite activity is genetic mutation, he is fascinated by creating new creatures and has the end goal of creating a new “ultimate apex predator” as he calls it. 2 is extremely energetic, almost always working on something to keep his hands and mind busy, be it reading pearls, creating abominations, or pulling sick pranks on the unsuspecting wildlife living on his can.

Despite his energetic and outgoing disposition, he does have a more serious side, especially when his sister requests something of him. Usually when meeting new people, he is the first one to talk, not because his sister is shy, but because he's just that energetic (could this be a side-effect of having two rarefaction cells in your body?).

Before being scrapped and becoming 2FI, 2’s former name was Countless Shimmering Droplets (CSD).

[homenecromancer]

I experience writing in two very different, but inextricably intertwined, modes. One of those is more analytical, and probably more familiar to more people — this is the mode where I say “oh, I’m using this character as a tool to explore this theme”. The other runs deeper than words, and the best thing I can compare it to is using a Ouija board — this is the mode where I shrug and say “yeah, I don’t know where that came from”. When I’m actually putting pen to paper, this is the mode in which I operate.

(A note that probably amuses only me: the couple of times I played with a Ouija board as a teenager, the group discovered that if I had my hand on the planchette, it would not move, and if I asked a question, there would be no answer. Which kind of sucked, because the psychological mechanism that makes a Ouija board “work” is fascinating, and I wanted to experience it in that context. But hey, such is life.)

Working from the wordless-intuition state is where my best writing comes from. Things just seem to come into being almost fully-formed. But their underlying structure, I think, reflects something about their underlying themes, although honestly it usually takes a few years for me to be able to reliably disentangle what’s going on in a given piece, thematically. When I talk about writing I’m actively working on, I am partially guessing, and trying to analyze my own work after it’s written down.

This is all by the way of saying that something I have been picking at lately is the contrast between America as a metaphysical nation of people versus America, the actual physical land. I’ve spent a very long time with one particular non-American character, Roland ter Borcht, and so, uh, no surprise that he’s my instrument of choice. By using him, I can try to see things from an unsympathetic outsider’s eyes, and because he is canonically not a very nice person, I can push farther in directions I might not with another character. (Generally speaking, I think ter Borcht is much more comfortable with things than with people, though I sometimes like to dial this aspect of his character back a little bit. As a lifelong resident of the western US, I like to be self-indulgent and give him a bit of fondness for western landscapes; if you want a stark, beautiful setting, with not a lot of people in it, you certainly have your pick out here.)

So that’s from the analytical mode. The intuitive mode is simpler, but a little more embarrassing, to say: metaphorically speaking, I keep hearing from ter Borcht about his first impressions of America, and I like spending time with the guy.

You can now stop scrolling through my outlining of my creative process, this is the bit where I post some unfinished fic. I’ll transcribe this later — I’ve already typed too much. But if you can make it through my handwriting, there’s content here!

[lumilasi]

NOTE: this bio is now totally outdated

Name: Angus Belmont

Nicknames: Angie (his sister) Belmont/Scarlet Drake/Master (the cult who mistook him for an old legend) Doc (Chouma)

Age: Exact age is unknown, his demonification has caused his body to mostly remain at the age he was when he was infected, around his thirties.

Height: 179 cm

Former doctor/brief semi-accidental cult leader/protective big brother. 

Role: Works under one of Hanzoku's "family heads," the witch Belladonna. Arguably he has complete say on what he does though, and is her subordinate only in theory.

Family: Little sister Franziska, deceased parents. He also arguably acted as a father figure to Belladonna's son, Konjou.

Love interest: None per say, he has a physical relationship with a Chimera woman named Rouna, and clearly plays favorites with a corrupted moth spirit called Chouma. (contrary to what people might suspect though, he and Chouma do not in fact have sex. Angus won't allow it due to the obvious power imbalance between them. He sees Chouma more like his favorite subject of study/pet)

Friends: He's more of a lone wolf, but is slightly fond (in a "this is a fascinating little creature" way) of the other, less dangerous oddball moth spirit their group has, Yoruga. He also has a mutually respectful companionship with their Big Boss Hanzoku.

Rival: None, though there is tension between him and another Sect head, Amalia Marek, who is the lover of his boss Belladonna, and doesn't really like how rude and downright nasty he is towards Belladonna at times. (There is a reason behind his behavior, connected to her son Konjou)

Powers:

He can regenerate really fast, even compared to other Reverence demons, and is insanely durable.

Like all those infected by Reverence, he can shapeshift his bodyparts into different forms based around his type, in his case dragonic things, such as long claws, wings, horns, etc. As a Hydra type dragon he also has the ability to produce and create all sorts of poisons (and antidotes to them)

He can use his "aura" as a form of offence/defence, an ability not even Amalia - considered the strongest Reverence demon usually - has unlocked. This basically means he can summon three dragon heads and use them to attack people and literally devour them. (they essentially burn to ashes when swallowed by his dragon heads, at least if he chooses so. He can also just capture people like this without killing them)

He can channel Hanzoku's destructive decaying power through his aura dragon's breath. basically instead of fire, they breathe energy that decays/rots/rusts anything it touches. He can't use this for long though, and typically only once per summoning his dragon heads.

Having been on the run from the law, he's very excellent and stealth, and his doctor background has given him more than enough info on how to murder people even without using his demonic power.

His 3 sets of eyes all have different function; top pair sees into the spirit world, middle pair sees in infrared, and bottom part has normal vision. Typically he can just choose which view he processes, or utilize all three at once.

He's a former doctor so he obviously has medical knowledge, both traditional and more magic based. He also speaks a few languages (this world's equivalent of english, polish, Japanese and bit of german)

Weaknesses:

He's very protective over his sister, and can stop thinking rationally if she gets severely hurt, to his own detriment. He can start making very foolish mistakes that can enable in taking him out/incapacitating him.

Angus struggles to form meaningful connections with people outside Franziska. This is partially why he ends up being a lone wolf, because he subconsciously feels like it's not worth trying; people just won't be able to like him for who he is, and anyone who does - outside Frankie - just wants something from him/thinks he's something he's not. (something he thought even before he went on killing people)

He is actually not as in peace with this detail about himself as he thinks he is, and can get a bit aggressive/careless if someone manages to poke this sore spot.

He's pretty closed off and doesn't like people getting in his personal space without permission - apart from Franziska - due to some trauma related things; namely getting caught by surprise and injured severely, like what kickstarted the dark spiral of his life.

Angus only allows those he absolutely trusts to touch him without needing to make themselves and their intentions known, which tends to mean he might sometimes lash out at a person needlessly and injure them. He especially hated it when it happened with Konjou once or twice, even if he would not admit it.

Personality:

Angus is very stoic and calm, almost never showing much emotion outside mild annoyance or amusement. He can be quite ruthless and has no qualms in getting rid of anybody he feels he needs to. That being said he has some form of moral code left still, and tends to avoid getting involved in battles directly, not wanting to kill people just for the sake of it (something he sees fighting as).

He also tends to try and dispose of anyone he has to as painlessly as possible - unless its personal of course, or the person in question somehow rubs him the wrong way (such as being an abusive parent). Then he tends to be quite sadistic.

Angus tends to still be very professional with being a doctor for his group, and remains calm even with the fussiest of patients/lets those scared of him have somebody with them that makes them feel safer, even if it is minorly inconvenient.

Despite his cold crack and seeming disinterest towards most people, there is some genuine fondness he carries towards couple people outside his sister Franziska, and tends to pay far more attention to their wellbeing than others. These people are Rouna, Chouma, and Belladonna's son Konjou. Angus is not consciously aware of this though, apart from his sister where he's openly caring and more relaxed, even joking around with her a lot which feels out-of-character in the eyes of many.

BG STORY:

PART 1: Family Trouble

Angus' family were well-known and influental merchants, and his parents wanted him to continue the family business, despite the fact he was not interested at all in the world of business and finance. He became a doctor instead, much to the dismay of his parents, who had a strong distrust and dislike towards the medical profession. They also did not like magic, something Angus was also interested in since he was a child. They did not even consider Franziska to be the one to take over the family business due to her being a woman, and their father having more of an old-fashioned view of gender roles.

Then, one day as Franziska came to visit Angus on the clinic he was working at under the guidance of an older doctor, the said mentor ended up experimenting with some of Angus' magical objects he had for studying behind his pupil's back; not having the same knowledge of the object in question like Angus, the man ends up releasing the power held within it accidentally in a massive fiery explosion, that destroys the clinic, burns Angus quite badly and causes Franziska to fall into a coma.

Due to his burns being created by a curse of sorts rather than normal fire, Angus' burns can't be healed by traditional means, and his parents - who've taken him back home now as he supposedly can no longer work due to his injuries - ban him from trying to find a "supernatural" solution, believing it'd just get worse. It is also believed at the time that Franziska may not wake up either due to the magic-based nature of the incident that caused her coma.

In his frustration and anger over the situation, Angus manages to slip out of the house eventually, going "missing" for several weeks as he searches for a solution. He eventually comes across a peculiar creature with strong regenerative supernatural powers, that it seems to attempt to infect into other people. Angus lets the creature do so, but it does not fix his burns; it just turns them into dragon-like scaling.

The demonic power also causes his mind to start taking a turn for the worse, making him turn bloodthirsty and vengeful over the incident. Angus ends up hunting down his former mentor and killing him, before fleeing the country in search for the origin of the creature that gave him his powers, hoping it could help heal and wake his sister up if he just understood it better.

(unknowingly to him, some months after he leaves, Franziska actually does wake up and recover; she was protected from the worst of the blast and hostile magic energy thanks to Angus being between her and the source of it. He does not find this out until years later, after she's also infected and finds him)

Part 2: Scarlet Drake Belmont

During this period as a wanted man, Angus comes across a group of people worshipping some old local legend of a red Dragon of sorts, mistaking him for this being. Angus uses the group to further his research, having them kidnap test subjects for him, or sometimes they just straight up volunteer to "receive his blessing."

He is mostly known as "Belmont" or "Scarlet Drake" during this time, causing a lot of fear among the locals as more and more people go missing, or turn up dead, or catatonic in some cases. Angus did still have some sembalnce of morality left though, banning his "followers" from kidnapping children/expecting mothers.

Through his research Angus eventually finds out about Hanzoku, and after disposing of most of the cult, he heads out to go and find this being, in hopes of learning more about this peculiar power. He still keeps the mask he wore as Scarlet Drake, mainly out of nostalgia.

Part 3: Full Circle

Years later, as he works with the witch Belladonna and Hanzoku, his sister turns up, awake and well, albeit also turned into a demon. She'd become a bounty hunter in his absence, having ran off from home to pursue her dreams of an adventure, and also to escape her mourning over her brother's death, as their parents had claimed to her he died, not wanting to face the shame of their son having become a murderer.

Unfortunately, roughly around the same time, some mercenaries sent by their parents happen to track her down, tasked to bring Franziska back home. In the resulting scuffle they manage to hurt her bad enough that her powers become a bit unstable, and its only by waking Hanzoku from his slumber - and some help from the Chimera woman Rouna - that they manage to save her.

Furious, Angus requests their leader to allow him to travel home to confront his parents for this, which he grants, even letting him to just traverse through the spirit world to get there quickly rather than through traditional methods. Rouna decides to come with him, in case he'd need some assistance/out of curiosity.

Back home, Angus finds his parents arguing, with it turning out his father was having an affair with decades younger woman, since the heirs his wife provided "weren't good enough." He gains their attention and confronts them about Franziska and what happened. Due to his changed appearance, his father accuses him of fooling with things he shouldn't have and making deals with devils, disowning him as a "poor excuse of a son," and demanding Franziska to be brought back home immediatelly so she could at least birth a proper heir for them. This causes Angus to promptly impale him with his arm, killing his father in almost an instant.

His mother panics and attempts to run, grabbing some sort of magical blade to try and defend herself. Angus warns her to put it down, realizing it was a similar thing to the mirror from years ago, but to no avail; the power from within erupts and burns her alive, killing her as well.

Angus and Rouna eventually grab some things to bring back with them, with Angus eventually lighting the whole house ablaze, firmly leaving his past behind.

Fun Facts:

In case it is not clear yet; Angus is a Villain character. He's one of the antagonists in this story, starting out as a more passive BG villain, before becoming a major threat at some point in the story.

Belladonna and Angus initially have a good relationship, but as Angus starts to notice how she's kind of grooming her own son into having powers he might not actually want, his respect for her lessens. He doesn't try to stop her though, purely because at this time he did not care enough, as Konjou wasn't his son. (this is one of the very few things Angus ends up regretting by the end)

Franziska was not that upset finding out her brother had essentially become a cult leader/serial killer during his research, namely because her demon power infection had caused her moral compass to also warp into a less-than-stellar form. She was more touched than anything, that he went through all that effort for her sake. (Plus he didn't hurt kids or expecting mums - groups of really vulnerable people - and most of those he did kill were jerks anyway! .....As she put it)

Angus did in fact fuck some of his followers - though only when they expressed interest, and only sometimes. He did not require it, and after it caused unnecessary tension and the idea of people trying to gain advantage over others within the group, he stopped altogether. (it was too much of a hassle to deal with their interpersonal drama)

Angus is aromantic bi

He used to have black hair, and his OG eyecolor is brown like you can see from his smallest pair of eyes. His hair changed color because it was mostly burnt off, and when his demonification regrew it, it became blonde apart from the small patch that was still there. (This would happen with anybody infected with Hanzoku's power regenerating their hair; the shade of blonde varies and depends on the person though. Angus' blond hair matches his sister)

If I recall right, his Japanese voice claim would be Ulquiorra's voice actor from Bleach, but for english (since that'd be his native) he sounds a lot like Ruvik/Ruben Victoriano from the horror game Evil Within, just has a bit smoother voice.

[jonathankatwhatever]

It’s 15 Mar 2024 and the most amazing work is occurring. Here’s one bit: I was coming upstairs from putting the laundry in the washers and wondered if I’d taken my lactaid, because I’d made a hot milk/coffee and left it on the table to be reheated. I realized too many steps had occurred between for me to know for sure. I could guess I had because I’d made the drink and cleaned up, which indicates a degree of care, but what if I put the lactaid off til return? The choice of perspective seems a coin flip biased by which goes first, like in any game where going first endows an advantage of choice. Aside: thought about this yesterday as I was running, so it was blown entirely out of my head a few miles after, that choice of which path to take is an ordering issue because all which respond to that path being chosen now order. This is like when the sink is draining slowly and you can make it drain fast by closing and opening the drain. This creates a disruption which allows the water to organize and that ordering is more efficient at draining. Kind of the way heroin drains the person more efficiently. I’m using drain a lot on purpose, of course: the idea is to be like Stein and allow the associations to build across the usages. The idea comes from the lifeblood and the connection of that to water.

I find that stuff fascinating. I was working through a question that troubles me: the explosion of violence and the decline of cities during my lifetime. I was able to articulate the idea that it was a partial consequence of increasing freedom as a few things happened. On the idea level, the church that led the movement had developed a theology which downplayed the material world, and that ideology did not fit the developing reality that success in gaining basic rights naturally leads to questions about prosperity in this world. The former is more abstract. At a practical level, Martin King’s murder deprived the movement of the natural leader, the guy who brought a bunch of voices together.

That idea came out of thinking about how unprepared people were for success. Institutions didn’t exist. This really helped me sort out something from the family story, the one where I actually meet you as a character in which in the story itself I’m essentially you as a male in this other family, except I’m a different you, the one who does the music and who needs a sister to write lyrics. Like I said, they’re all version of me and you, so I’m really comfortable there. That storyline involes investment in poor communities by a bank. How to improve a neighborhood so the people who live in it benefit as well. Or at least the people who own homes in it can prosper. I mean ‘loans’ to improve homes so the value of other homes improves, as actual community investment which benefits the bank. I mean grants so people get their homes fixed up in important ways rather than needing to sell low to a flipper. Updated electrical, plumbing, HVAC, etc. Try to cut costs by recruiting from the community and by encouraging local contractors to try out people, to see who works well, etc., the idea being you want to encourage the work itself to be an investment in the people.

Somewhere in my mind I see 5 houses near each other, and a structural contractor goes through each, etc. Project manage the scheduling. So this would require a development corp. Another complication would be tenant protections and how those might go away or change, but the complications of another set of interests, that third party, don’t resolve to 1Space; they require some compromise that shifts each perspective, each End. That is an important part of the gs and Triangular process: the ideal, which cannot be achieved, means flicker through states, which of course organize. And connects to the Julia set which connects to the Mandelbrot set.

Anyway, that was a detour. That’s what comes from drinking hot milk and decaf.

Example: Pi in our work is the count of connections at any specific level, and that directly translates in relation to the M-set because Pi appears as the number of iterations increases as the real count, which is compressed xyK to real, approaches the cusp of the M-set at ¼. That is, if you apply Mag10, which is (1+(SBE3)+1), meaning it is iterative over base10, so the actual iteration is that which approaches the M-set at the tangent point of ¼ on the real line. This generates a count of iterations before it exceeds the same value of 2 used in general in describing the M-set. I keep hearing a reminder that this is around 0, that it begins with a count of 0, and the reason for the 2 is that if a 2 appears in the calculation then it can’t go back.

So when we count to 2 that means counting imposed to complete.

I need a break.

[theghostpinesmusic]

On Reading In Circles

So, I'm on sabbatical during the upcoming academic year. Technically speaking, this sabbatical runs from this coming September until September 2024. Accordingly, I'd originally planned to take this summer as a "normal" summer break, maybe spend a little of my free time formulating ideas (mostly while sitting in tents during rainstorms or taking afternoon hiking breaks perched on this or that high rock) and then dive into "properly" working on my sabbatical project starting in September. If you're a frequent reader of my word-dumps, though, you know that at least for the last few weeks, the wildfires, the smoke from the wildfires, the general weather, and now my own health have not really cooperated with this plan (the month before this one was AWESOME, though, it bears repeating). I have this fragile hope that September will be better for hiking, and that maybe I can take advantage of not having to teach in the fall to do some September/October/November backpacking trips, but that remains to be seen. In the meantime, I made a promise to myself that if I work now, during the time of year when I'm supposed to be taking a break, I can play later. We'll see how that pans out in the end.

What it means for now is that over the last two weeks I've dove (maybe we should change this to "diven"?) into a huge initial reading list of texts and essays relevant to the project as a way of getting my feet back under me as a researcher (the last time I really did serious research in the field was 2013) with the idea being that these texts will be the foundation that guides how I write over the next year and beyond.

Mostly by chance (though partially because I already own them and it's expensive to buy theory books), I've started by reading through a lot of the same books I read during my dissertation research, back in 2010-2012. In most cases, these are even the same literal books: I've found a ton of my old notes in the margins, brackets around relevant passages, complaints about the quality of coffee shop sandwiches, etc.

At first, honestly, this felt a bit silly to me. These books are not, generally speaking, short reads. They're extremely complex and time-consuming, and, in theory at least, I've already read them and internalized the core concepts (albeit a decade-plus ago): shouldn't I by reading new stuff?

The process, though, has actually been fascinating: many of my old notes are on concepts that I have significantly developed (and hopefully improved) my thinking on since the 2010s, if not exactly through new research, through conversations with my friends, colleagues, and students, and through just living my life (which tends to be filled with a significant amount of self-reflection, for better and worse). Lots of quotes I emphasized before now show symptoms of that sink-or-swim way you learn to read in grad school: plowing through 500-1000 pages of reading assignments a week necessarily forces you to speed-read, digging for quotable quotes instead of trying to (or being allowed to take the time to) understand the whole argument. It feels like I'm actually reading and understanding many of these books for the first time, in spite of my essentially being granted a Ph.D. for having read them "well" the first time.

And this brings me to the point of this latest of word-dumps, which only still requires an (incredibly brief) description of my current project as a setup.

So, in addition to some pedagogical/class development work, the main purpose of my proposed sabbatical is for me to have time to research and write a book proposal. What's the book about? Well, I'm not glad you asked! In (very very) short, the idea is to use the heuristic (nerd alert!) of summits and circumnavigations to explore how the humanities can contribute to the discourse around global warming. There are about a million topics that get caught up in this currently in my head, but essentially the idea is that summiting a mountain requires a series of epistemological assumptions about one's place in the world (experiences are linear, the point of life is progression and/or accomplishment, the natural world exists to be conquered and understood by man), as does circumnavigating a mountain (experiences are circular, the point of life is to learn through that circularity, things don't really massively change, but sustainability is possible, and natural world is a cycle or series of cycles that inescapably includes humans, etc.).

If you've read this far, you might see where I'm going with this.

If not, here goes: it popped into my head today, at the peak (get it?) of my existential crisis about whether or not I should be spending weeks rereading old books, that the circumnavigation metaphor applies here, too. That is, returning to texts after ten years can't be a waste of time and is, in fact, almost mandatory because of how much I've changed since then (since the last "circle," if you want to beat the horse to death). Of course there's more to learn. And skipping past these texts because I've been there once before would actually be against the basic spirit of the thing I'm reading them to be able to write (an argument for circularity and sustainability).

Whew. So, I'm sure that wasn't as fun for you as it was for me, but thanks for reading this far if you did. Expect more of these in the future as my brain slowly grows/dies from reading THE TOMES.

In the meantime, here's some music from today's reading session. If, by some weird chance, you're a fan of Outer Wilds, there might be some thematic overlaps here with what I was just writing about. Otherwise, it's just a nice song you can enjoy.

[humansun]

nothing is aligned my friends

Written June 14th, 2023 at 12:50AM

Wow! Look at me! I am on this document. I never thought I’d make it, but here I am.

Yesterday, I was very sick. Bed-ridden if you will. It was pretty much awful. I haven’t gotten a positive test from the covid tests, but for some reason, I feel like it’s covid! It just feels horrible to be sick.

Yesterday, I was thinking about how perhaps the reason why I feel so down about myself is because the main way I was able to get serotonin or joy in my life was based on my productivity and accomplishments. That’s interesting, isn’t it? Maybe the way other people get serotonin and joy is because of other aspects of their life that bring this to them.

That, or we live in a society that rewards productivity and having a full-time job instead of those who try to find a different path to their success. Perhaps this society rewards the traditional definition of success. I could be very very wrong, but it’s fun exploring what the possibilities of my emotions are. Maybe I’m just victimizing myself because I feel bad about myself in this situation.

Because what I’m going through specifically is extremely difficult. And it is. 

I have half a month to finish everything I said I’d finish or else I won’t have boba for the rest of the year. That sounds awful, but at the same time, so needed. I need a taste of punishment. LOL I need some humbling, disciplining for not getting my work done. Shake. My. Head.

There’s something about Asian American content nowadays that feels catered towards middle-class, educated communities - and not saying that people outside of these communities can’t watch, but it feels catered to those folks. People who go to UC’s or have college degrees and are making money to pay for these subscriptions.

It’s interesting. I also came across that pinterest post that was highlighting the hierarchy of humor. What. It’s fascinating to observe objectively the world we live in, specifically media. It’s interesting critiquing it myself and trying to understand what about AAPI media nowadays that doesn’t necessarily sit right with me. Who in Hawaii actually lives a life anywhere similar to Doogie Kamealoha? I’m not sure anyone.

But at the same time, it’s a process. Things can’t change overnight. What do I even want to see? What can I even make that could be half as good as Beef? I’m not sure anything!

I’m learning more everyday that it’s not always about AAPI media, but it’s about what I want to engage in as a creator myself. What stories and energies am I attracted towards as a partially eccentric person myself? I’ll admit it - I didn’t realize cream cheese was literally cheese in cream form until earlier today. I also learned that I have intense cuteness aggression for my Fuzzy Fish aka my boyfriend. What is happening. Who am I. What am I doing?

Will I change unless I actually change? The answer is probably no. I will probably be doing and thinking the exact same shit when I’m 30 unless I go through something intense or super changeworthy. And I don’t have that yet?! Do I sign up for a meditation retreat? But what if it’s a cult? Ugh.

This is my brain. Hello. Yes. This is what I think and especially so when I am sick at my sister’s home, quarantining from my family in order to be a good daughter. I love the narrative of pulling myself up by the bootstraps and doing things because other white men did it with their $3-$10k to make their own movie, yada yada yada. Obviously, there is good stuff in there but at the same time, how anxious were these men? Do they walk around afraid someone’s going to kidnap and rape them? No. 

I’m screaming from the inside out. Nothing is making sense. Nothing is altogether. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m just dancing in my seat. That is the moral of the story. I’m going to watch Kung Fu..KUNG FU WHAT. KUNG FU HUSTLE with my sister next week and suddenly I will be injected with all these creative juices and my life will change. That is what is going to happen. Yay. Life is solved. Everything is wonderful. I am blessed. Gratitude. Meditation. Anxiety-free brain. Whoooo!

Written 1:15PM

I keep getting distracted by random youtube or instagram or any social media content. Woo! Life sucks.

Guess what though! I was listening to a podcast about anxiety this morning and have decided to go sober on the following things:

Caffeine

Alcohol

Drugs

With the exception of celebrations like weddings or someone’s birthday.

Written June 14th, 2023 at 9:47PM

The constant feeling of impending doom when night falls is annoying. I’m getting the energy endlessly sucked out of me. At least I’m prepared though.

I have never loved anyone the way I love my Fuzzy Fish. 

He is the epitome of a wonderful human being who brings me immense feelings of delight. I wish one day to hug and squeeze him until he suffocates from my physical affection.

Today was oddly productive - especially because I’m sick. I spent most of the day figuring out what I could do to be even more productive! Look at that. When you thought it was over, it wasn’t. 

There’s still plenty more to do though, which I will prioritize since I do want boba for the rest of the year. My goal is to not get sucked into content and distractions that keep me from doing my work. That will get me no where in life. It’s truth.

Anyways, plenty of meetings tomorrow. It’ll be a fun time.

[flowersfortheriot]

In a country where the idea of the benefactor state has entered deeply into popular consciousness (so much so that Venezuelan anthropologist Fernando Coronil called it the “magical state”), grassroots autonomy will always be hard won, and it will certainly be hotly contested during the course of the socialist transition. However, Johan’s defense of what he calls “full autonomy” as against the “precarious balancing act” of overdependence on state institutions resonates with the basic thesis of the communal path toward socialism and the reason it can succeed where earlier, more statist socialist projects failed. The key point is that the communal strategy can succeed because it is more internally coherent than the state socialist model applied in the Eastern Bloc in the twentieth century. Regarding the latter, Hungarian philosopher István Mészáros, who was a major inspiration for Chávez, once wrote that the Eastern Bloc socialist model was like a person who falls because they try to sit between two stools. His idea was that “actually-existing socialism” was an incoherent hybrid of two mutually hostile systems, but without the efficiency (or the rationality) of either one.

Because of its composite nature, the Soviet system had problems with control of the work process. It could neither apply the imposed, external discipline of the capitalist overseer, nor rely on that of true socialist self-government, that is, the internal discipline of self-managed workers. This explains much of what happened in the USSR and other Eastern Bloc countries, where there was essentially a problem of too little—not too much—socialism. Workers were told that the property of the means of production belonged to the whole society, including them, but they did not have a decisive role in determining how to employ the machinery or how to dispose of the product. For that reason, Soviet workers considered the “socialist means of production” to be not fully theirs, but someone else’s—or, most often, nobody’s! Social property was established through legal decree but it was not something real or truly felt. Stories about factory life in the USSR speak abundantly to this. There was an irrational use of resources, a host of bad labor practices (including purposeful waste), “storming” (last minute drives to fulfill the plan), the hoarding of inputs, and, eventually, collapse.

The communards at Luisa Cáceres have seen something similar play out in Barcelona, where they found that the other communes, who had only partial control of the garbage removal project, essentially “fell between two stools.” No one, neither the state functionaries nor the communards, took responsibility for the service. As had occurred in the Eastern Bloc, social property existed only on paper. The buck was continually passed, and the drivers eventually rebelled because they were not an integral part of the project. For all of these reasons, there is a continual push at Luisa Cáceres Commune toward more self-government and greater self-management in production. There is still much to be done, as the communards here are the first to admit. The most important thing, however, is that having chosen a coherent path, they are avoiding the impasse of the earlier socialist model.

[copperbadge]

I’ve been doing more research on ADHD after the diagnosis, specifically watching some channels that you guys and others have recommended, and it’s actually a fascinating process coming at the diagnosis from the far side of forty instead of the near side of twenty. 

I have a ton of coping mechanisms, which I developed because “Well, I’ve got to deal with life somehow”. In the evaluation I had with the psychiatrist, I was basically diagnosed on them. Some of the more simple ones really seemed to fascinate him, like taking the doors off my kitchen cupboards and hanging my keys on the knob of my self-locking door.  

Many of the videos are about helping younger people develop these coping mechanisms -- not relevant to me, generally, although some of the tips are still useful, like the idea that whatever you’re doing to cope, it’s meant to lower the demand on executive function. I’m fortunate in that my diagnosis is inattentive, I don’t have the hyperactive angle, and thus don’t have a ton of need for fidget toys or sensory stimulation in the way the videos talk about. The fidget spinner I have is cool because it’s Captain America, but it doesn’t like...help, per se, and after about two minutes I get frustrated with the fact that there’s no result, it doesn’t produce anything. I do best in meetings and classes when I have something to occupy me, but it can’t be tactile, it has to at least partially engage my brain, and knowing that I need a brain-fidget rather than a hand-fidget will be helpful in coming up with appropriate (and socially acceptable) workarounds. 

Not sure what to do with all the discussion of emotional regulation; I feel like I’ve got that bit figured out but also like maybe my solutions aren’t the healthiest, so we’ll see. 

I think perhaps the most useful thing is the idea of identifying a need or issue and then finding a workaround for it as a conscious process, which is usually something I do instinctively. This one video was about going to Target specifically to shop for products for kids that could still help adults with ADHD, and while most of it was fidget toys, I liked the idea of browsing with the focus in mind of finding tools for workarounds. Which led to the idea of, well, what am I working around? and the concept of consciously identifying ADHD-specific issues. So that’s something to think on for a while -- aside from the Adderall, what are solutions to specific ADHD-driven issues I have? 

I suspect because I am older and well-trained in problem solving I may not get as much assistance from videos or books about living with ADHD as a younger person might, as I might have as a younger person. I think I may look for something more along the lines of a layperson’s medical text; I’d like to know what we know about how ADHD affects function, because that will be more helpful to me in identifying ways my experience of reality is not neurotypical, and then I can come up with my own workarounds. Because it is a trifle frustrating to look for more information and get a lot of stuff -- useful stuff, just not useful to me -- about fidget toys or bullet journaling. :D 

Plus...the biggest hurdle I’ve had is an inability to start and carry-through tasks, and the Adderall does a great job with that, so a huge looming issue is resolved, or at least on its way to resolution. Other than that I don’t really see many problems that are going unaddressed, but that’s where a more thorough knowledge of the actual biology might help me shift perspective.

Anyway. Get in losers, we’re going to Target even if we don’t need fidget toys, because Target is fun to shop at.  

[soracities]

i never really comment on anon or on other people's blogs but this discussion has been both fascinating and validating. i know this website tends to skew younger but i do think younger people (especially girls) get a chance to realize that so many things just get better and better with age especially with how society and media creates this false sense of a ticking timebomb on their value and wraps it up in youth. i sure wish i had more of that messaging myself as someone who shared some of these fears of 'it all going downhill' after my 20s.

as someone around mid30 now, would like to echo that it like really feels like your own life BEGINS after 30 so much of the time. i felt so much more immune to the nonsense around me and other people's expectations and it’s been a beautiful and liberating journey to keep learning more and more about myself and what's truly important to me. also feeling a whole lot steadier and more confident professionally, socially, and in my overall identity (though it will always always be an ongoing lifelong learning process) and honestly i wouldn't trade anything to go back to and relive my 20s and that supposed 'youth'

a 'ticking time-bomb' is literally the perfect phrase for it and i think one of the things that i'm very grateful for having been exposed to from a young age, and that i only realised was a benefit now, is the fact that most of the tv programmes playing when i was a kid were soaps. and....granted, i have internalised a lot of messaging around beauty and what i'm allegedly worth because of it and it's something i still struggle with, but the fact remains that getting older was never something i was freaked out about, partially because the media i saw, even if i wasn't always actively watching it, did feature older women: women in their 30s, their 40s, their 50s, 60s, women navigating new relationships, or leaving old ones, or not being in relationships at all but not having that be the sole focus of literally every story line -- women falling out with friends and making up with friends and quitting jobs and finding new jobs or working the same job for 20 years that is neither exciting or glamorous but enough, women making mistakes well into their 50s and not making wise decisions and still working through their flaws and not being seen as abject failures, women just generally living their lives -- ordinary, simple lives (or at least as far as 'simple' goes in soaps because now and then something blows up or some serial killer shows up or someone ruins a wedding by sleeping with the groom or the bride or the groom or the bride sleep with their partner's sister/brother/parent/best friend and the whole town finds out at the altar etc., but aside from all THAT), and it's been subtle, admittedly, but i think it has counted in a way. if i compare that to what i would be seeing in terms of female representation as an adolescent now -- whatever would be fed to me through my friends' instagram feed or through tiktok, or whatever new teen-young-adult-aimed show drops on netflix (with 25 year-olds playing 16 year olds and wreaking havoc with what was already a fraught relationship with my body at that age), i don't know if i would have reached that conclusion, no matter how many times i could watch something like derry girls as an antidote. like, at this point, the older i get the more profoundly disturbed i become with just how much we emphasize youth for women because i am definitely growing more aware of what exactly it is that is being implied there: the best and most beautiful time of your life is when your brain still hasn't finished maturing? when you quite possibly are at your most uncertain, still figuring out your boundaries and how to assert and accept your own worth? this is what is most desirable? it's insane, literally just....insane.

i'm honestly so grateful to you for sharing this and am so happy to hear that you are finally in what sounds like such an amazing place to be because this is it. i hope you continue to feel even steadier and more at peace with yourself and your life as this journey continues for you because it is honestly such an underrated experience to finally have. i hope it takes you to all the places and all the new versions of yourself that you've always wanted to meet x

[kohakuarisaka]

God is a Woman (2 of 3)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] You loved his dominant side, every flavor of raw passion he could possibly conjure up to offer you. You trusted him to let boundaries be crossed, knowing he would guide you back to safety. Maybe, it was why you wanted a chance to do the same for him. When you asked if you could dom this weekend, you were surprised at how easily he said yes.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Reader is also a hero. Pre-existing relationship. Female reader with female genitalia and pronouns. No pegging, no male penetration. Topping from the bottom. Romantic relationship. Oral sex. Penis in vagina sex. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Dom/Sub tones. Bondage. Femdom. Mommy kink. Degradation & praise. Dirty talk. No use of protection. Choking & rough play. Biting & scratching. Bratty sub Keigo.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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It was sunny Saturday morning, not overbearingly warm, with just the slightest breeze, and of course plenty of noise from the wildlife, specifically the birds gathering on the tree right outside the back door.

Keigo had spent a good few hours mopping the floorboards on the back patio, with the ambiance of the tiny, feathered beasts to ease his thoughts, to keep his headspace in this house and not the world beyond, to what was waiting for him at Musutafu.

It didn't take long for the surface to dry, and he sprawled out on the back patio, just shy of the sunlight, in the safety of the shade beneath the awning. He had left the door open to let the sounds of chirping birds carry into the house.

You caught the sight of him when crossing the hallway and approached with a smile, mystified by the sight presented to you.

When he was Hawks, he was so composed, dressed up in a fancy hero costume with his hair pushed back by a visor and headphones, shoulders back and head held high. You didn't dare want to take moments like this for granted, when he looked normal, wearing civilian clothes with his hair a mess.

He was propped up on his side, his shirt rucked up, exposing an inch or so of his toned abdomen, and the wiry blonde hairs that grew there. Loose shorts were hanging low on his hips, exposing the hem of his boxers. He had one leg stretched out, propped, the other bent at the knee, tucked beneath the other.

He was reading again, the same book from yesterday from what you could tell, and was leaning up on one elbow while his opposite hand held the book at eye level, roughly. He was focused on it intensely, not even glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

Keigo's wings were laid out behind him, draped along the wood surface of the patio, red plumes spread out in a beautiful assortment. The ends fluttered softly in the breeze, like his wild hair. The bases of the twin appendages could be seen moving oh so subtly with each inhale and exhale, shifting with his chest.

You were careful not to step on his wings as you approached, before kneeling on the space behind him. He heard you coming, of course, and didn't immediately react when you shimmied in close behind him, slotting your body into the curve of his back.

His wings shifted to give you room to nuzzle into the space between them, at the center of his back. It resulted in one wing partially draped over you, not that you minded in the slightest, while the other spread out along the floor behind you. It looked a little silly, but Keigo didn't seem uncomfortable.

"You're supposed to be relaxing," you scolded him softly.

Keigo set his book down and pushed it away before wiggling around a little, spreading his wings out so you had room to hold him from behind. Your legs tangled with his and your arm wound loosely around his waist.

He let out an amused huff. "Reading is relaxing," he argued gently.

"Not war manuscripts," you laughed. "You never stop working."

Keigo didn't acknowledge that statement. You almost regretted it, if not for the fact that he relaxed in your grip, leaning into the weight of you encouragingly. You had all the time in the world to discuss that, when you were in your costumes, speaking each other's hero names. Here, in this house, he was Takami Keigo, to you and only you. He didn't need to be Hawks right now, even if he couldn't stop.

For a short while, Keigo was quiet, letting your hand slide up into his shirt and explore the expansion of muscles adorning his chest. Then, suddenly, he let out an amused snort.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," you answered immediately, without any shame.

It wasn't every day that you got to see him, let alone touch him like this, and it didn't skip your mind what an honor this was: getting to touch winged hero Hawks' muscles was something many dreamt about, if the tabloids were anything to go by.

His wings were impressive, to say the least. Watching him fly at speeds rivaling a jet plane was truly a spectacle to witness, and he had great control over every individual plume; but, he didn't get that way without hard work. His chest and back were well toned, shoulders wide and strong, to be able to support such large appendages.

Keigo would never describe his wings as 'heavy'; that would imply that they were a burden or an unwanted weight. But, he had to be strong to carry so many feathers around, and he liked to let his plumes grew long and strong, when he could.

Plus, there was no denying that you liked this, that he let you touch him, that he sagged against the floor and hummed quietly, clearly enjoying the feeling of your hand wandering, ogling him with bizarre fascination, as if nothing more beautiful had ever crossed you before him.

But, that was the truth, wasn't it?

Sometimes, you couldn't help but wonder what you had done to deserve this, to have someone like Keigo deliver himself to your door and not someone else's, that he sought you out, and wanted you.

Someone like him, who could have anyone he wanted; yet, he came to you, a nobody hero, one of many faces that would be long forgotten. But, that wasn't true to Keigo. To him, you were one of a kind, his hero if you could be no one else's. If there was ever light at the end of the tunnel, it was you. If there was calm after the storm, it was you.

You, who looked at him like you were blessed to have him, when he thought it was quite the opposite. What did he ever do to deserve this, a beautiful woman who waited for him to come home, never once doubting that he would.

Keigo took hold of your hand and brought it to his face, laying a lingering kiss against your knuckles. You scooted in closer to him, if such a thing was possible, until you were flush against his back. Your hand slid free after a short while and continued exploring his skin, smoothing over the expansion of his chest.

"Are you sick of me being in charge?" you asked, sincere.

"You're in charge?" Keigo retorted softly, pepping up his tone a little to make it clear he was joking.

You pinched his nipple in retaliation and smiled into his shirt when he hissed softly.

"Minx," he scolded.

"Chickadee," you replied, rubbing your cheek into the back of his shoulder, dragging the fabric of his shirt around in the process.

"I'm a mighty bird of prey," he corrected you softly.

You leaned up a little and pressed a kiss at the exposed skin at the apex of his spine, humming an agreeing, "yeah."

Keigo turned his head and looked at you expectedly. With a soft groan, you sat up and awkwardly leaned over him until your mouth met his. He might not have been a hulking giant; but, he was still bigger than you. He could have easily rolled over and shadowed you.

The kiss didn't last long before you leaned back and started rucking Keigo's shirt up until it was wrinkled beneath his wings. He laughed softly, deep in his chest, and retreated from you, but only a little bit.

You watched as his wings moved around carefully, pulling the fabric up until they were freed from the garment. He pulled it up over his head, through the arms, and laid back down, arching into you expectedly.

You wasted no time continuing where you had left off, kissing at the top of his back. You blazed a trail along his shoulders and felt his wings shudder, one draped over your body like a living blanket. His feathers might have been still, but you could feel their weight, feel the faintest movements, bristles touching at your skin unconsciously.

Your mouth trailed down, along his spine, nibbling on the soft, untouched skin between his wings. Keigo wiggled beside you, partially out of pleasure and partially because he was, embarrassingly so, ticklish there. It was natural, really, being a sensitive place that harbored his wings, a place no one touched.

"Is that bad?" you asked softly, murmuring into his skin.

"No," he uttered hoarsely, unable to bite back the clear frustration in his tone.

One of your hands was curled on the ground to balance yourself, while the other trailed down the length of his torso. You pushed the hem of his shorts and boxers down and groped at his buttocks, humming approvingly at the firmness of his flesh.

"Yeah, you're definitely enjoying yourself," Keigo chuckled out in an amused tone, continuing to fidget faintly as you shamelessly felt him up.

Usually, this was the other way around. Usually, he held you down, covered you with his calloused hands and nipped at your skin. There wasn't an inch of you he hadn't touched, very few places on you he hadn't kissed, plenty of places he had licked, even when you squealed in protest.

He wasn't shy, by any means, and you weren't a stranger. After all these years, all you had been through together, there was no one Keigo held as closely. He trusted you more than anyone or anything. You knew his name, for fucks sake.

Like this, you weren't exactly trying to exercise restraint. He could feel the weight of you pressing against him, squishy breasts smooshed into his back, silky smooth legs tangled with his. Your toes were curled against his calf, knee digging into his thigh. Your shirt had rucked up a little, allowing him to feel the softness of your belly.

God, he wanted to flip around and bite you all over, make you squeal and moan and sob in euphoria; but, he was trying, so, so hard, to be a good boy for you.

Then, that sinful mouth of yours was added to the mix, nipping and kissing at the skin along his back, teeth occasionally tugging on his flesh. Your mouth grazed the skin right along the divot where quills grew from his skin, cheek brushing his feathers in the process.

Keigo moaned out, loud and shrill, sounding almost unlike himself, and it startled you a little. His wings flexed, nearly smacking you in the face as they beat the air. Yet, you didn't ease up, mouthing along the smooth skin, cheek brushing the young plumes that grew from his shoulder blades as you mouthed dangerously close to the base, to the place that made him who he was: winged hero, Hawks.

As your mouth explored and teased, your arm curled around his front. You tugged his shorts and boxers down his thighs until his leaking cock bobbed free. His whole body jolted and his wings shuddered, almost violently, when you finally wrapped your hand around his length.

You had tugged on his wings before during sex, tangled your fingers in his plumes at the base and played with the soft quills like it was the hair on his head. But, this was different: this was your lips brushing his skin, teeth edging along the place where he wasn't human.

As you began pumping his cock, your hips moved almost involuntarily, in tandem with your hand. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by Keigo, realizing that you were essentially humping him while your hand worked over his cock. Surely, you knew he could do better; but, he was content to let you guide the pace, to let you touch him however you pleased.

Keigo always leaked a lot of precum, even more so when you got your hand on him. Normally, he kept the focus on touching and tasting you, rarely giving you the chance to lay a hand on him before he claimed the heat between your thighs.

As he fidgeted and moaned from your touch, it steadily became clear why. He was touch starved, hormonal teenage years denied of something as simple as the embrace of another. Even something as innocent as your hand sliding up the back of his shoulder could result in a half-chub if he wasn't careful.

Your hand, squeezing him just right, pumping his length like a damn pro, accompanied by your mouth teasing at his wings, sent electricity shooting through him. If his squirming and breathless moans were anything to go by, he was approaching his end at a rapid pace.

"Fu - uck," Keigo grunted out. "Your hand feels so good."

You wanted to lean up and kiss at the back of his neck, right where his hairline started; but, then, you wouldn't be able to reach his cock, and there was no way you were slowing down now, not with the delicious moans he was spewing.

Keigo gave up any semblance of dignity and started bucking up into your hand, to the point that he was fucking your palm like he had never known pleasure like that before. While it didn't compare to being inside you, he was on the edge, hyper-focused on the sensation of your mouth along the edge of his wings.

It was difficult to not take over, roll over and shove your clothes off and drill into you, right here, right now, on the damn floor in broad daylight. He'd flex his wings out, knowing that you loved that predatory stance, and beat the air to drive in harder, faster.

But, you had asked to be in charge this weekend, and there was no denying that he was enjoying himself, letting you touch him like this, feel him up and bite at him. No doubt, you were leaving marks on his back, marks that no one but you would see.

"Fuck," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Oh - you're gonna make me-"

You moaned in response, the sound vibrating onto the skin of his back. Keigo had one hand clawing at the floorboards while his other reached around and senselessly grabbed at you, resulting in him clinging to a chunk of your thigh, bringing you in as if you might try and escape.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" a chorus of curses escaped him.

His held tilted back and your only regret was that you couldn't see his face. His wings shuddered around you, one smacking against your side as he cried out.

You worked him through it, feeling his cock throb before burning hot cum spurted from the tip. Some of it coated his abdomen, some of it landed on the floorboards, most of it coated your hand in a slippery mess.

Keigo's hand released your thigh and wrapped around your forearm in a death grip. You realized immediately it was to hold your hand in place while his hips moved, fucking into your palm deliriously. You were already worked up, grossly wet between your thighs and covered in goosebumps; but, that lewd gesture did something to you.

It made you ache.

Finally, his orgasm waned and Keigo's shaking ceased. He sagged on the floor, panting heavily. You didn't give him a chance to relax, shimmying out from beneath his wing and pawing at him to roll him onto his back. As if instinctively, his wings shifted around, spreading out on either side of him as he flattened like a pancake.

Your dirty hand smeared his release across his abdomen as you climbed on top, straddling his thighs like it was your god-damn place in the world. Still in the blazing aftermath of his orgasm, Keigo hardly seemed aware of what was going on, vaguely processing the feel of your legs moving around and bumping his as you rid yourself of your bottoms.

Suddenly, his sensitive cock was wrapped in a velvety grip, unbelievably hot and dripping wet. The startled cry that Keigo released was almost haunting, and you knew you would never forget it, nor the way it made you tremble and whimper.

"Holy fuck," he groaned loudly, eyes blinking rapidly as he peered up at you, perched on his lap with a wild look in your eyes.

You had no idea if it was a side effect of his quirk or mutation, or just something about Keigo, but he almost always stayed hard after the first round, and usually even lasting for a third. It wasn't the least bit surprising that he was still stiff and throbbing.

"Color?" you uttered to him, going completely still above him.

Keigo blinked slowly, staring at you with a drunk expression on his face, as if he had no idea what the hell you just said. You were patient, eyes taking in the pleasured look on his face shamelessly while you were impaled on his length.

"Green, babe, fuck-"

He barely got to finish before you started bouncing on his lap. One of your legs was curled over his thigh while you propped the other over his abdomen, knee gently digging into his sternum. You shifted your weight off your arms and onto your legs and rolled, pivoting his cock in and out of your folds.

"Ahnnn-" Keigo moaned, head falling back and thumping against the floor while his eyes squeezed shut.

His hands gripped at your waist, fingers digging in like he was holding on for dear life. That very well might have been the case. The sensation from his orgasm hadn't even worn off and you were already working his cock, setting sensitive nerves ablaze.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, sounding breathless, but sincere.

"No," Keigo replied immediately, fiercely.

He shook his head a few times before looking up at you through long, heavy lashes. His pupils had practically vanished, coating his gaze in amber that stared up at you like he was going to fucking kill you.

"Feels so fu-fucking good. Se-sensitive - fuck - I would th-think you're trying to kill me, baby bird," he forced out between labored pants.

As if trying to level the playing field, Keigo shifted his dominant hand, laying it across your belly. His thumb dipped between your sloppy, wet lips and swiped over your pearl, seeking it. You mewled when he brushed the bundle of nerves, and Keigo wasted no time finding a rhythm to circle it smoothly.

"Ohhh, yes," you moaned, head tilting back. "That's - mmm, just like that. Good boy."

So much for leveling the playing field. His hand managed to stay focused; but, his head rolled back and his eyes fluttered shut, a staggered moan falling from his lips. You stared at Keigo, watching pleasure dance across his face, throat bared and skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"D-didn't prep - you're tight," he gritted out.

At one point, you were embarrassed at the realization that you hardly needed it when it came to Keigo. His presence alone could put your body in overdrive, primed and ready to go at the mere sight of his crimson feathers.

It proved to be your hidden superpower. You enjoyed the feel of his cock parting your folds, the slight ache as his girth forced you to accommodate him. Just the same, your cunt gripping him almost too tightly should have been illegal. It threatened to make him lose his sanity, and become a slave to your body.

"Fuck, slow-" Keigo paused and swallowed loudly, out of breath. "-slow down or gonna - aghn - gonna come too fast."

Your own orgasm was approaching like a train flying off the tracks; however, even if that wasn't the case, you wouldn't have stopped, not when he was literally shaking beneath you. His wings began to shudder, plumes rolling like crimson waves beneath him in tandem with his thighs.

You had loosened up just right by now, wet with your own slick and his seed, walls squishy and compliant, creating an effortless glide. Wet, fleshy sounds echoed between the two of you, almost loud enough to drown out the noises youb were making together.

His thumb continued to swipe furiously at your pearl, even when he began shaking from head to toe. But, then, suddenly, the friction was gone. His heels planted on the floor and he used his legs to lift up, meeting your thrusts with enough force to make you bounce.

His hands gripped the meat of your hips painfully tight and it didn't take you long to realize that you weren't even moving yourself anymore; Keigo was holding you up and fucking into you. Ever diligent, it didn't take long for a small feather to dip into the space between you and take over, curling over your wet pearl before trembling violently.

The sound of chirping birds, a buzzing cicada, and the wind in the trees briefly crossed your mind before your own cries drowned out the noise. You could hear Keigo wheezing and moaning in pleasure beneath you, his feathers rustling softly as his wings vibrated.

"Baby - close - close - fuck - come for me, come for me, come on - please-" Keigo babbled on, eyes fluttering shut and head lulling on the floor.

It likely was the desperate 'please' that had you tumbling, a sudden rush of mind-numbing pleasure making you scream. The sudden tightness and fluttering of your walls had him following close behind. Keigo roared, back arching. He dragged you down roughly as his cock emptied inside you, his seed hot like molten lava.

He held you close, pinned against him as he continued to throb and spurt, ensuring every single drop went as deep as he could possibly make it. You trembled above him, hands pressing down on his chest for a moment or so as your orgasm waned.

When the pleasure died down, you moved your legs to a more comfortable position, and collapsed on top of him, torso to torso, skin to skin. The mess of his seed and your combined sweat clung to your skin; but, you couldn't be bothered to care, especially not when Keigo's hands wandered, sliding beneath your shirt to move up and down your back.

You panted against his cheek, body rising and falling as his chest did beneath you. Keigo tilted his head and you felt lips against your sweaty forehead before he huffed out a sharp exhale that made your eyelids twitch.

"Woah," he breathed.

"Just woah?" you teased, even though you were clearly as out of breath as he was.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll give you a standing ovation," he retorted softly. Your eyes could catch the corner of his lip curved into a grin and tilted your head back to try and catch it with your mouth instead.

But, you only ended up colliding with his prickly chin. Keigo laughed and leaned down to kiss you properly, lips slotting over yours in a well-practiced gesture. His arms wound around your waste, holding you close while you kissed. One of his wings came up around you while he rotated you onto your side, laying you on the opposite wing.

You wiggled around when you felt the soft plumes touch your cheek. "Doesn't this hurt?" you protested, trying to escape him. Keigo's grip was too strong, however, and you failed to break free.

"Aww, babe," he hummed, "they're stronger than they look."

"They look strong," you replied, almost defensively, in a low utter, realizing what you had accidentally implied.

He placed an elbow on the deck and propped up his head in his palm, looking down at you with a sort of fondness that made you squirm. He was still inside you, albeit soft now, holding you close to ensure that he stayed that way.

You dragged your knuckles gently along his cheek, whispering, "was that good?"

"You have to ask?" Keigo replied quietly, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly.

"Communication," you scolded, gently pushing sticky blonde strands out of his face.

"I just cleaned the patio. Now, I have to do it again," was what came out of his mouth.

It was clear by the crooked smirk he was wearing that his intention was to make you laugh, which he did, unfortunately.

"Oh no," you replied dryly.

Keigo hummed, leaning in to kiss you again.