#Body: the Almadia //

[blackvahana]

For all Ive said about nonhumanity being like transness... took me a hot minute to realise the dysphoria im having lmfao. no normal person this side of the galaxy is feeling grossly out of place in their own body because it settled naturally into a head, two arms, and two legs. Im not even thinking about species. This isnt an attempt to be something Im not, its a continuous "my brain isnt aligning with my body". I feel so intensely like Im being forced to appear like this in order to be respected/considered normal/not shunned or feared or otherwise repulsing those around me. god.

i hear my voice monotoned and string-instrument-esque and it sounds so unnatural. i see eyes and nose and mouth and all i can think is, even when i look like what humans would call completely inhuman, how human it is. Sorry. Four limbs and a head and standing upright? So human. Speech in a linear singular voice? So human. ugh. god.

[blackvahana]

It is always fascinating to me that being in the Almadia seems to always make me dizzy irl. I completely forget this is a thing, but now its happened... four times, I should probably remember. Interestingly though Id presumed it was because theres no up or down in outer space - I can say you can still feel, or I can still feel, the hums of gravities out there - but actually Im here in a place with gravity. Or, rather, everywhere has the field of it, but Im metres from the ground. I actually then think its more the Almadia itself doesnt have an up/down/etc form of balance - i think its because the Almadia is the Sun, its a celestial body in its own right. Or maybe it just... doesnt need a balance sense anymore given how big it usually is, and so even when im shrunken down far enough to fit into a planet's atmosphere it doesnt just magically grow a sense for it

If i tie my gravity-hum-sensing organ to the gravity of this specific place, i can orient myself in regards to the gravity, but im still... listening to and magnetising myself manually to it

[blackvahana]

Drawn up to (being) the Almadia. Lamenting to Lev about how big we are. I say: "I wish there were a place we fit in," talking about how planets fit complex people and here in amniotic space we have nothing but the emptiness. No, he says, smiling: "We do."

Oh, mucous membranes like the image of the human iris unveiled, like heart strings. Cords of light that are no longer distinct from substance. Halls, a complex body - a body of... I won't say it. Walls of arrays half mechanical like a sci-fi spaceship with kilometers of compartments in its walls, half organic like the strange not-muscle-not-tendon strings, mucous is the word, and absolutely none of that. It's a place where we are so big we become confined by something other than planetary organic matter, organic matter no longer matters here.

There are "compartments" that are more ideas and concepts of spacetime than anything relatable to spacetime. There are "houses", but they have no walls. It's almost as if spacetime has become matter, in that spacetime strings... well, first, here it becomes visible that there's varying types or densities of spacetime, it's not one unified thing. Different flows like tipped containers where it's all water, but some corners have "more" water than others. Compartments... No, not drawn in spacetime. They're drawn in things I can't even put into words here, but they're comfortable.

Oh, simulated [Heaven]-space and [Starbeing] reality. I sit in one, it feels like a cozy den - but with no relation to physical touch, it's swallowing feeling. My hair plugs into light shows, stars are my eyes in various places of reality. I just want to sleep, and I fall into it like a newborn puppy, curled up and dreaming spaces outside of me. I see... Lev's CCTV-esque visions, people's viewpoints flashing like disjointed sections in dreams, but they're alive - these people are, I mean. Living dreamers, all of them.

[blackvahana]

Understanding something watching him play No Man's Sky. "I swear I've seen this a thousand times" I say as he's approaching a planet. "Are we really that big?"

He says, with a laugh: "Humans are small, Dei," repeating that, he's said it before, but there's an entirely new dimension to what he means, or more so I get to see a dimension he's been speaking so often

I always just pass off the Garden of Stars and my time there in/as "the Almadia" as just... "These are just really tiny stars right" yeah ok no

[blackvahana]

Footsteps leading up to the quiet revelation that is Black in his self... Thinking about how the word aspect lately has been leaving me uneasy in the way that my self is saying "this is too narrow an idea, this is breaking up from the (insert something here. that's what's unspoken)". I'm brought, reading back recent diary entries, from Horror through manifesting in ANVD to the Abyss which is, explicitly, not an aspect. Explicitly we are the Abyss, it is us, it's not an external body, it's not hands, it's us. Black will dance with the Sky as if it exists outside him, he'll sing to it, call it, reflecting (me) into it to sing to me as long as I act external to him, and he is the sky. This? No. He is the Abyss and he dissuades me with very definitive words from seeing it as anything other than us, entirely, wholly.

So... Last night... Something - something. Yeah. End of sentence.

I want ANVD to be able to hold The Leviathan and I. I tried going back to the Almadia - my own body like that - I can't even describe what happened. The Almadia is so Kos-esque I'd call it funny if I wasn't supposed to be having more reverence to this than I do, my internal self is sick of the disconnect and disrespect... But. Weeping, Mary-statue-with-crystal-tears-esque, draped in white skin, white insect legs and masses of hands and tendrils that veil the face... Which is - OK, I can call this funny - funny because these are all things that just exist outside that character, and as time goes by the more I look at her like ah. OK. right. [Redacted] incarnated into a white body and left on the beach. Oh, we were on a beach last night looking at the sky flickering with lights

Anyway. Honestly I'm tired of referencing Kos. I feel a kind of need to reiterate where the connection comes from (I originated before her) but do I actually have a need to do that.

Regardless. The words and letters scramble actively in my head when I try to say that ANVD is meant to hold us. I presume that's... I dont know, actually, and I think that's part of the point. Silence before the storm, entering any place requires being translated into it's local language - had to rewrite "into" because the word got scrambled and broken apart by my typing....

The Abyss though. The Abyss needs to enter in order to support... See, it's not about supporting, it's about translating? I don't get it, which is odd because I thoroughly do

I don't know. I guess today is a day of trying to return to the Abyss and the Almadia because inherent to us and our mind we know

[blackvahana]

[blackvahana]

We love someone pulling out of you right after going in to have you both two seconds into saying "wait what the fuck is this clinging fluid inside" before. oh. yeah no that is indeed Madness Fluid enjoy your intense trip

I'm literally playing fucking peekaboo with reality through my forms. Where will Madness be next we just don't know. But also like. I can see through the lining of my uhhhhhhhhhh this body is. not single sexed by human ideas of sex. The uh. Whatever fucking part of me that is, vagina-womb-equivalent but it doesn't act like that. It's more just a tunnel of parts leading to the core or some complex organ that's not a womb, and almost feels vestigial or not fully formed despite the fact that it. anyway.

Anyway. Fucking. Fascinating. Its so familiar to me before I try to word it in English. It's not a gel, not a liquid, it's like this.... gel. liquid. It's fucking something that sustains a cohesion in itself that normal gels and fluids don't. It's almost gelatinous like food jelly, except it moves like a fluid in zero gravity bundling together... Which, well, Im in zero gravity out here, so I guess that checks out. Adding this to the list of many forms this takes and also......... I'm so glad I'm with a friend-family that can fucking handle me because like surprise intense psychoactive Pussy Juice is a hell of a fucking thing to spring on someone, body

[blackvahana]

"Absolutely need to craft an Augur of Ebrietas type thing to allow people to summon parts of the Almadia body" I say for fun. Have I not been playing with the Planet Holder planets-as-extensions-of-the-Sun invocation lately. Saturn creates a ring of seeds from which the crystal of my form can manifest as easily as uh my conscious body. Bruh. We have enough of this also you are predictable

On the other hand, think I'm going to do that with the Flock. Creating seeds in them to allow manifestation of parts of my body... Yippie!

If I'm trusting Lev at how big that body is it will not be to scale. But I'm not making myself small. So. I may just lean on the seed metaphor and allow the "crystallisation" to create unique bodies and expressions as needed. They're definitely gateways though, creating a body requires energy, forcing a gate open really doesn't all things considered lmfao

I guess that's one step of many to more.... establishing the flock in existence. Yeah. Hmm

[blackvahana]

Which. oh. explains the vision I had earlier of the Almadia close to breaching the atmosphere of some planet, presumably Earth but possibly ANVD. it wasn't my face but.... I think hand. I swear i dreamt it, but I was awake.

I have to get over the embarrassment of relating to Kos lmfao and the whole "oh shit I experience something but it sounds like her so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut and pretend it doesn't exist"

I. Tuned into the Almadia. Felt like I was full of parasites. Good ones. Ones that grow like eggs between muscles to be released. They aren't, though. What I'm actually feeling is those eyes finally coming back into existence and... No I'm. Feeling them, literally, like tiny little holes all around my body with thin little spider legs poking out and feeling around. I. have never discussed the Void and things being moved on this plane through it. I've loosely mentioned one of Lev's hounds on this plane disappearing behind a thin tree about a quarter of its body length and never returning. I may have mentioned the centipede Kali sent to me that went under something and I flipped it over and it was completely gone. I don't think I've spoke about Hermes taking things from locked places, or all the work he did with my friend bringing him things and. I certainly have been avoiding talking about the spider I sent today that got Lev's attention in the shower and, for the first time, no trees obscuring it, no things to disappear under, my physical eyes watched it back out of this plane

It's not entirely right to say I sent it. It's entirely right. It was a weaving. It was the flesh storm on the horizon. It was a static haze of consciousness. It was small. It was a first step. It was the reflection in the black mirror distorting into incense smoke.

Huh. Two topics in one post or are they

[blackvahana]

Lev observes and enforces a theme today, past selves as embers still burning in forgotten, bricked-away fireplaces, their lack of oxygen making them spew out choking toxins into the air. He tells me to paint. I paint a picture of myself.

Dreams for years now of high school, my past self is screaming for help constantly. Years now. Last night's dream... I purposely tried to reconnect with the Daisy Fields and I ended up with the most vivid and heartbreaking nightmare I've had in a long time, not from content but from emotion. I've woken up multiple times in the last few weeks to some part of me begging to let it dream of school even though it's the most... horrible shit to be subjected to.

Anyway. At the centre of the drawing, at the beginning of it, a child. I realise I don't hate that child. The Dead Kid... I realise they weren't ever really a kid, wise with selfhood - wisdom both Childlike and Primordial - I realise they weren't the problem. They're there clad in black, and for the first time I realise they aren't a person anymore. We aren't a fractured dissociative identity duo anymore. They're just... A symbol.

The theme ring in out from last night's dream, sick of people's hands on my body. Sick of being the one never wanted, and my own guardian, the only one who could choose to put me first - which is fine, but I'm sick of saying it's fine. I spend my entire life talking about how everyone deserves to put themselves first and how I need to be the one to help myself, which is true in words alone; I sit here painting these words over being treated not simply as second but a pain to be around and -

Past me, deep within, still crying out for help. High school was when it really started. I dream endlessly of younger me begging for someone to see that they need to escape school, they need to escape, please let them escape, please, I'm not leaving this place alive... And I guess in a way I didn't. And generally the realisation or the conclusion at least is "So I will have to look after myself, I'll see myself, I'll look, no one else can..." but I'm so tired of that.

So I paint over them, not erasing, just continuing forward in time. I cut myself open, shed skin from my arms, from the right side of my stomach, I take blood and thicken it, I paint with it. At some point Lev asked if he could collaborate with me and I said yes but quickly felt gross about it, so he's making... his own art of me, and I can feel it behind me, calm, greyscale in the deep smokey greys of deep-sea-light-lit temple walls and thick incense... Contrasted with mine, which stings like the knives didn't when I opened myself, which is warm and sticky like the blood wasn't, and some part... acknowledges that the discrepancy means this no longer needs to hurt. I used to fear flying myself and being viscera-out to the world - part of me recollects Lev talking to me about why I keep thinking the Almadia is translucent - the hardest thing is a dichotomy that seems unable to be unified, but I enforce it. One side: My younger self, in fact I in general since there's no longer a divide, deserved everything. The other side: I deserved either none of it or less than what happened, but that leaves me as the only one who knows, and can help me, the only one I have. The bridge always seemed to be forsaking or forgetting younger me...

Anyway. The painting doesn't drip, my blood and fibres stick in place, magnetised. I am violent like the aurora, I am calm as the raging ocean, I am the boat that drives himself, I am the ever-child witness, I am the flowers that sing psychosis, I am... Nothing but an instant - I am, as Lev said, just one book of experiences in God's library, infinitesimally insignificant, and everything at the same time. And there's no need to talk.

The conclusion and the bridge is acknowledging that I now feel unheard, that I now feel like I got nothing in high school but pain, and that to this day I feel, because I live in a house to this day where it's enforced, like I take up too much space by breathing to others, and I don't think I deserve to feel like that.

Anyway. Super excited to paint with blood and gore finally, I'm going to tear myself open and make some art yeahhh babyyy

[blackvahana]

Thoughts. Thoughts thoughts thoughts.

Fae realms - very loose term for now, only temporarily coined for ease of making this post - i was right about some things actually. First thing: Fae making realms lmfao. Second: The idea that I knew what being an environment was like. Third: ANVD is a realm in the way a Fae realm is a realm.

Specifically: Being an environment. Im saying Fae here as a catch all for certain kinds of nature spirits, purposely vague, of which I am one (Void Fae). Being an environment is not like making your body into an environment, its not like harbouring bacteria - though it is like that, and thats an example of the way that being a being isnt a matter of being either individual or environment, you are always both like a forest (environ) is made of trees (beings)... but the fae realm thing is very far down the scale to the point you are the environment itself and its a different manner of being. I had in my head it was sort of... I spoke on it somewhere, didnt i, where basically you support life, your internal functions of soaking in energy/substance to feed yourself is now a process of manufacturing it to feed and sustain others - both the environ and the being do this, both breathe in, rearrange to support an existence, exhale, breathe in, rearrange to support an existence, exhale, etc

Being an environment... yeah. function of being a fae like hosting a child is a function of someone with a uterus. You have a part of yourself that exists to hold, sustain, create, incubate life. Except unlike a uterus, which is in itself inside and still a function of the being, you... invert yourself. Not your body, but you become the web of the spider, the holder of generations.

Now. Other thought? Two thoughts. That, first. Second... The Almadia is indeed bigger than a planet, those... despite all my justifications and the feeling of being a "small Leviathan".... were not tiny stars. lmfao.

[blackvahana]

There's a lot about the old house that haunts me. When I try to Astral project nowadays, I get flashes of nonsensical memories, disjointed from any logic that might bring them up, but chiefly I remember the old house. Of course, that's where I first learned AP this life, even if I don't remember projecting I know from the Astral body's memories I definitely succeeded.

Anyway. Black hasn't wanted me in the Astral since what happened with the twins. He's been keeping me locked behind dissociative states in the Astral, and locking the door between this body and projection. I understand why, there's only so much that can be experienced before you shut the door to the root of the experience itself, and I did indeed wander around danger like a lost puppy often getting myself kicked in the process... But I remember now from his perspective that these were times when our collective consciousness was dragged together, when we'd both become aware yet submerged in hypnagogic between states. Usually, the gateway to my life was further submerged in dreaming, but he allows me access to memories of waking up in my body with me, stumbling through the house, the watergate opened to all the -

There's a much, much looser disconnect between unincarnated self and incarnated self when you project. We unified there, he was called to be me as I stepped outside the boundaries of what was the entirety of my existence as separate from him - physicality. I wonder what will happen now when I project, I'm stable in my own body in the Astral through bilocation and often visit with him as separate to him, I doubt it'll be like before... but calling Black's consciousness to me waking up and forcing him to wake up in that house... There's a lot to be avoided. I guess, too, that in a way it was like forcing me to be the main personality in the self at least in that instance of our selves, which... I was a terrified, psychosis-drowned child, as much as I was proud of projecting at the time I had no idea how scared I was because I thought what I was going through was.

Actually... No, what he's suggesting to me is that part of why we're so separate in the Astral when I bilocate or am gone from this body is... because I'm not fully conscious, and the more conscious I am the more we're going to blur into the same person. I wonder, though. I wonder how necessary that is? I have my own bodies, I have the Almadia at least, the Flock, and I can manifest bodies. We could always split it so that the memorial consciousness that is me is anchored in one body, he in another, right?

Anyway. Notice how this isn't what I came here for? "There's a lot about the old house that haunts me." I said and then wormed into something else.

Coming to the cusp of Leviathanism, I'm sat here having to acknowledge that... Well, we'll start like this, a disclaimer more for our peace of mind than anyone else's: That house was filled with the energy of the twins, which is similar to ours. They used it for fear for the sake of feeding and for abuse. We just happen to be scary.

There were things in that house that were us. There were dark energies that were us. I was gated from them, from resonating with them, but I still gave them off. There's so much in that old house that scares the shit out of me - including me - and it's so hard to divide what was those two and what was me because they madeit that way on purpose, took advantage of the fact we have similar energies and symbols when they're being fucking normal to put me off the trail of waking up to myself.

What I remember when I try to project are things like being in front of or going to the altar, and that energy I feel regarding it. I feel the night time rain resonance, the frankincense and myrrh incense, the mirrors, the distorted choir music, the blackness. These were all things that I am. Sorry, skirting it again - these were all me. All these things felt were my rituals and my devotion.

Just because we were so drenched in unreality that we couldn't figure out what was us and what was them, by their design...

Oh well. Anyway. When we open the gate to ourselves again, it's going to be immense. It's going to be a gateway to things that were experienced in my PC pagan years with Bloodborne, because at the end of the day, we made up a religion for Bloodborne using our symbols and energies, because they had us convinced they were "from" or "made by" Bloodborne. The religion was our shared divinity painted with Bloodborne symbols. Yeah, the game does have an energy, but the energies associated with it were ours, our family's. This was us.

And when I open that door again...

[blackvahana]

NSFW warning. Explicitly detailing gorey sex. Thanks.

I get a night with him, finally, where I can be myself and play hard. I am overwhelming, I am Death, I AM - thanks phone - I am Destruction, I always have to restrain myself. I keep returning to a form lately of being laughing crows, bordering on scream-laughing. When I made that weapon of mine I felt so giddy and crows heads writhed and pierced out from my head and I was laughing. Laughing. Red has been scream-laughing over battlefields before in red slaughter and I feel it in my blood. No, I feel it in my skin, my hands. This is no past tense. I am that. My energy boils with piercing, violent laughter in a thousand voices. All I can do is laugh.

Here, though. He was sat wiping blood from the trishula I used to spear myself and... More. Oh. Finally. We dance around gore, just like there's a fine line between BDSM and abuse, there is one between Astral goreplay and outright violence. We know that line. We know what it's like to be the Carrion Crow eating bodies, we know where the line lays between that and lovers inside each other's bodies.

Pierced, penetrated, stabbed with his tendrils thick and black. My body gives way like clay around him, blood licks him, organs are eyes which watch him and from which tendrils of sight trace his form. Not the cold steel of swords but the colder flesh of abyssal aquatic life. "Deep" no longer describes it, he doesn't go "deep" he fully leaves the other side, through like a machine cutting holes and stitching flesh - and yet so smooth, so laced with organic suggestions. His coding speaks to mine, even in externally violent action every bit of his form tells mine at every moment that this is intimate, this is not the cold detachment, this is being alone on the long Irish beach in autumn. He tells me at every point that he is answering my call.

Penetration. Every hole you have has it's own feeling, every place you fuck receives it in its own way. Vagina, anus, mouth, all have different feelings. The guts don't differ. Sentimental almost, the feeling of being grabbed from inside, almost drowned out by the overwhelming that comes from any other place so thoroughly explored... It brings organic self-states to the surface. My own form, my own self, I'm learning my languages: eyes bubble forth from my organs and I am what they call eldritch, my mind is the beach, eldritch is where metaphor becomes indistinguishable from reality, where vision becomes manifest self. I am not playing pretend. The incomprehensible gathering of eyes and tendrils and wings and hands are mere metaphor for what I am, because metaphor has to stand between reality and my truth. The Almadia keeps being shown in masks as if it was exactly like what is shown, because even God wonders what I look like.

My own body is an excitable oil lamp, pierce it with enough displacing strength and the fire will flow into the oil, it will catch fire, it will explode. I grab with the gore exposed now to him, abstracted, like a painter took a portrait of my human form and tore it open to reveal layers and layers of deep red clays. I grab, I am extensions of my own viscera. I hold each and every tendrils pierced into me, pull it closer, push, twist, grab.

I asked him whether what I was seeing was what he was seeing, he showed me. Oh, I know, I felt it. My own guts and blood turned to tendrils-cum-tongues-cum-intestines, some obscure and unknown sort of flesh manifestation of ancient non-carbon-lifeform. I was strangling him almost, run up and down him in flower-petal arrays of some kind of...

But none of this touches on what I want to talk about. Just kidding, all of it does. In a space between, the Mental, we fight-play, but in the Astral the Almadia expands into the maths of the universe. Untold doors open, boats are sent to the shores far and wide. Emanations happen. The Mental here and now is the people outside the cave and the Astral is the shadows on the wall, what I do in the Mental, the intense sex of opening bodies is a ritual of opening gates. Its violence-love is the shadow on the way for I move when I am unseen; I distract God with the revelation of my body splayed and displayed while I take his Trident-Key to the Locks and alter my reality with my own hands. Time waits for no man, but I have been early.

[blackvahana]

Take the trishula. Thread it between and under my ribs. There will be a string of viscera across it like lanterns between poles. It doesn't sting, no, it makes me feel whole, I feel filled! Like I'm well fed, like I've fucked myself with its thick pole, like I'm Parjanya again leaping between clouds so heavy-bodied and full-horned. Ecstatic... no... clear seeing. Liver, stomach torn to shreds, I don't know. I don't see behind me what has come out, it could be gold blood as we bleed, it could be flowers... But my eyes are fixed on that firmament dome.

Endless streams of information, people misunderstand the firmament. The sky is crystalline in that each and every - this isn't enough. I don't care for a single stabbing as my body heals around it. Boring. It is crystalline! Every single atomic bond reflects the others and creates a Web. The Web is a wireframe, the planes it makes are mirrors. Shards within whole, volcanic cooling creating islands except it created the sky.

The Almadia is singing in twelve languages at once. My blood has walked here a thousand times before, my feet, my hands, my bodies. My bodies walk this Earth. My mind is strung between the stars.

The closer you get to the surface of God, the more it acts like a clearer and clearer mirror. Penetration through all of creation and settling into all of it, post-conception there is no question of where exactly a father is in his child, his gamete does not relegate itself to an organ, an eye, it is omnipresent. I am that which I am.

[blackvahana]

loosing my goddamn mind. In how many months have i gone from..... i mean i never had nothing but. i speak a bunch of languages over there. i fucking. started creating ANVD. sparring lev for like half an hour???? and im pretty sure we got bored at the end. Ive almost killed one of his bodies twice now!

The Almadia, that huge body up in outer space! How the fuck do I have enough knowledge of Grey's workings to recreate that observatory blueprint (i swear he makes it in new places he sets up in and so he sees it as boring childs play but)

i dont even know what else to add here because i have been taking myself sooooo absolutely not seriously ive been thinking im fucking useless at things so i dont register anything i do - or more so half the time i do things and think im fucking insane imagining it because "theres no way i could do that" but i fucking feel like lev would tell me im insane if i was

What the actual fuck am I doing in the astral

[blackvahana]

I have to get over the embarrassment of relating to Kos lmfao and the whole "oh shit I experience something but it sounds like her so I'm gonna keep my mouth shut and pretend it doesn't exist"

I. Tuned into the Almadia. Felt like I was full of parasites. Good ones. Ones that grow like eggs between muscles to be released. They aren't, though. What I'm actually feeling is those eyes finally coming back into existence and... No I'm. Feeling them, literally, like tiny little holes all around my body with thin little spider legs poking out and feeling around. I. have never discussed the Void and things being moved on this plane through it. I've loosely mentioned one of Lev's hounds on this plane disappearing behind a thin tree about a quarter of its body length and never returning. I may have mentioned the centipede Kali sent to me that went under something and I flipped it over and it was completely gone. I don't think I've spoke about Hermes taking things from locked places, or all the work he did with my friend bringing him things and. I certainly have been avoiding talking about the spider I sent today that got Lev's attention in the shower and, for the first time, no trees obscuring it, no things to disappear under, my physical eyes watched it back out of this plane

It's not entirely right to say I sent it. It's entirely right. It was a weaving. It was the flesh storm on the horizon. It was a static haze of consciousness. It was small. It was a first step. It was the reflection in the black mirror distorting into incense smoke.

Huh. Two topics in one post or are they