#does the kin community still exist

[zessdynamite]

me thinking abt when i was gold kin when i was like 15: yeah i relate to the character but i don't feel that way now

also me whenever i see art of gold with a chikorita evolution line pkmn or with togetic: that's me AS HELL right THERE man

[kalvanreaped]

It's easy to relate to a character, but goddamn does it hit hard like a train when you realize you're physically and internally trying to assume the characters identity for a few weeks now.

Especially if it's your own original character. Like yeah, I wanna be called Sorin, be only half Finnish, and be a revived literally brought back to life church grim black shuck-type gothic punk transdogboy with connections to the sun and deities who was only made as a fucked up experiment in DC universe who's almost a literal walking corpse at the end of the day.

But, doesn't everyone else as well? And then you realize that you now have a very possible ockin at hand and just stand there overly confused, like, "dude, the fuck?".

Bc that escalated quickly, and is it just me?

[thegnomelord]

sof and cute hcs of eldritch reader trying to learn how to people (and maybe some raunchy ones about learning how human "mating" works) hhhhnnnngggh

Imagine Learning To Be Human

CW: SFW and NSFW First TF141 with SFW, then NSFW headcannons, sexting, masturbation, sex toys, morning after (no sex), sexual nudity, nonsexual nudity, implied poly141. GN reader, 500-900 words for each blurb, so somewhere around 5.5k words. Imma be quiet for the next week or so as I prepare for an exam so I'm feeding ya'll :Dd

Imagine SOAP— It's safe to say you're not the best with expressing what you think, especially not in this hollowed out corpse a tiny fraction of your consciousness inhabits. The more you try, the less human your attempts come out, only remembering that humans don't bend that way or don't do something after you've done it. You find yourself gravitating to Soap because he is the opposite of you, so open and responsive like an open book.

Imagine; observing Soap as he tries to piece together the fragments of a bomb, muttering curses under his breath as if the object had just called football 'soccer'. He's so concentrated he forgets the rest of the world exists, oblivious to you sitting across from him. But that's not a problem as it gives you a chance to watch and try to mimic what his face does; the slight hint of teeth as he nibbles on his lip, the furrow of his brows, the tenseness of his jaw pulling on his throat muscles…

You try to mimic every emotion he goes through as he tries and fails and succeeds and fails again to fit the pieces together like a jigsaw, but the hardest one to do is that smile of his. For some reason you just can't get it right, lips pulling back too far, teeth too much on display and brows too furrowed so you end up looking like an old savage.

Then as if to spite you, Soap looks up at you and immediately snorts. "What're yea doin' there Bonnie?" He coughingly laughs as your facial features return to your statue like state.

"Trying to look like you." You huff; at least you can do that correctly.

"Oh, look strapping don't I?" He snorts, doing what Ghost calls 'fishing for compliments' (though you're unsure how one can fish for abstract ideas).

"No more than the rest." You shrug and see him roll his eyes, though the corners of his lips are still quirked up, a hint of teeth on display and vestiges of dimples framing his mouth. "How do I do that?" You ask and motion to his face.

"Do what? Smile?" You snorts, already beckoning you over like you're a dog. "It's easy."

You lean across the table, tilting your head to indicate confusion but leaving your face a blank canvas. It takes all of your presence of mind not to give an earth shattering purr when his hands cup your jaw, distant stars quivering as his blunt nails scratch at your throat for a blissful second.

"Here," His thumbs settle at both corners of your lips, putting gentle pressure until he pushes the flesh back and up in a way that's natural to the skin suit but not you. "There yea go." He grins and pulls his thumbs away after a few moments, grinning when you hold the expression.

"Now yea're as dashing as me." He chuckles and you two must look like utter buffoons just grinning at one another; you wouldn't have it any other way.

Imagine GAZ — You're not exactly alive, technically you're the antithesis to life and existence, so to you, simple rules like eating or sleeping are no more than chalk guidelines after a rainstorm. Gaz doesn't subscribe to this idea, he's always trying to get you to indulge in these human comforts and you always allow him, even if it does include eating more things in a week than most of your kin have consumed in a millennia, if that.

Imagine; wandering the halls on a lazy Sunday morning, no drills to run or missions to prep for, and being drawn to the communal kitchen by the sound of boiling water and banding pans. You find Gaz cooking breakfast for the boys; he's the only one who can cook (according to him) seeing as Price seasons his food with hope, Ghost burns everything into coal and Soap's not allowed into the kitchen after he'd tried to make tea in the microwave (which Gaz had later asked you to exorcise).

"Mornin'." Kyle yawns and smiles at you, dressed in shorts and one of your 'lost' shirts. You do your best to replicate his expression. "Help me, yeah?" He asks and nods his head at what he's cooking.

Your expression falls back to neutral. "You'll need to show me how." You admit as you get next to him.

"Not a problem," He chuckles as he shifts behind you, pressing his chest flush with your back with his hands hovering over yours. You feel his warmth when he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands firm and steady as he shows you how to chop tomatoes and sausages, how to hold the knife correctly and pulling your fingers back when the blade draws too close to the flesh, talking you through it until you can do it on your own.

After that he leaves you to your task as he almost dances around the kitchen, stirring a pot here then putting the kettle on there and so many more little things while you remain where you are because you, by nature, are slow; to adapt, to age, to change.

But you do it for him.

"Those look great." He grins when you're done and then herds you in front of the cooking pans, and you're a little apprehensive about the bubbling oil when he dumps what you'd cut up into the pan. But his warmth is at your back again, steady hands guiding you on how to cook the food without burning your skin and leaving you to it when you catch on.

Then you feel a tug on your shirt, his presence once again next to you, but this time he's holding a piece of sausage on the end of a fork, a hand beneath it so it doesn't drop, "Hey, taste this for me."

You contemplate arguing you can't actually taste food the same way he does, but he gives you a look that has you letting him feed you. Though it tastes no different from everything else, from his hand it may as well be sweeter than ambrosia.

"Tastes good." The way he brightens up at your words makes the food only taste sweeter.

Imagine GHOST —You and him are similar in some ways, you both prefer to stick to what you know, who you know. It's harder for you to contain what you are inside your flesh body when there is so much life around you that every additional heartbeat pulls at the edge of your cold existence. So you stick to close to the people who's warmth has grown so familiar it's indistinguishable from the burning starts making up your real body.

Imagine; attending a celebration held by both TF141 and Los Vaqueros after a mission gone well, loud music and lewd lyrics blaring in your ears as men drink like teenagers at their first frat party. You're in a more secluded part of the bar next to Ghost, both of you nursing drinks while you watch the rest act like fools.

You're a little confused when you see Gaz and Soap move in a strange way, grinding against one another and pressed so close you'd think they're trying to mate, their hands roaming the other's body so roughly you're surprised no pieces of clothing come flying your way.

"Got a free show for my drink." Ghost chuckles next to you.

"What are they doing?" You finally ask when you can't contain your curiosity.

"Dancing." He answers and swallows the last inch of booze in his cup, setting it down on the bar. "For fun." He adds, already expecting the line of questioning, as if that's supposed to make you understand.

"They just look like they're trying to mate." You point out, receiving a long sigh in return.

"How 'bout I just show you." Before you can say anything he nicks the cup of untouched alcohol in your hand and swallows it all down in one go, putting the empty cup next to his before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you outside through the back entrance. You go along with him, but you're confused when you catch Soap's eyes and he wolf whistles at the two of you.

The world outside is calmer than the busy bar, the air much colder; closer to what you are. You turn to him once he lets you go, tilting your head and furrowing your brow to convey confusion. "So…what do I do?"

"Just follow my lead." A gravely chuckle escapes Simon as he closes the distance between you two, his rough hands settling on your waist as he begins to slowly rock both of your bodies along with the music, though his movements are more contained than what you'd seen, a steady push and pull compelling you to follow him.

"Why is this different than what Soap and Gaz were doing?" You ask, clutching his shoulders in return, your forehead almost resting on his chest as you look at your feet so you don't step on his toes.

You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles, "They set a low bar." He rumbles and his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up so you two lock eyes, the intensity in his brown irises drowning out the sounds of the bar. "Eyes on me."

You nod. Your eyes stay firmly on him as you sway together to a tune he hums, finding a common ground in the way your cold and his heat mixes together. Above you millions of your eyes peer down at him, for as vast as you are, for this moment your attention is on him.

Imagine PRICE — He can tell how tired you are, not physically but mentally; having to communicate and understand people without the use of a mental link, when even the most complex ideas can be conveyed easily, was starting to fray the edges of your control over your human body. He decided to do something about it.

Imagine; Price taking you and the boys fishing to a remote cabin next to a lake. Knowing you don't sleep he pulls you out by the lake at the ass crack of dawn, having you watch as he sits down on the dock, his pants pulled up to his knees so he can dip his feet in the water while he sets up the fishing rods.

"What are we doing?" You ask but follow his example and sit next to him, the cool water of the lake similar enough to the cold abyss your true body resides to calm your nerves, though you're unsure of what to do when he gives you the fishing rod.

"Fishing." He says as he shows you how to cast out the line. "You look like you need it."

You don't argue with him and just try focusing on fishing, letting him teach you how to watch the line to see when something takes the bait and when to reel it in. You’re unsuccessful your first few attempts, and you have half the mind to just jump in and wrangle the fish in the lake with liquid abyss, but he stops you.

"Catching isn't the point." He says as he smokes his cigar while he takes an old boot off your hook. "It's about relaxing, the fish are just a bonus."

You let out a low sound that vibrates the water, but you settle next to him and cast out the line again. You don’t know how long you sit there next to him, your sides touching with the fishing rod sitting loosely in your hands. After some time you manage to yank out your first fish, and you certainly don't gloat when you pull a few more fish out of the lake while he only pulls out seaweed, but the look of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Any prospects of catching any more fish are dashed when Gaz and Soap wake up and take running jumps into the lake, scaring all the fish with their splashing. "Like school boys." Price remarks as Ghost comes up to you both, offering beers as he sits down on your other side.

"Summer vacation, captain." Ghost says and slips into the water, and you realize this is calming; in the way you haven't felt before, doing something familiar like watching Soap and Gaz trying to dunk each other in the water but feeling like you’re right there with them, laughing alongside them when Ghost scares the shit out of them by lunging out of the water.

“See sweetheart? ‘S not hard.” Price hums, adjusting his hat though his shoulders are already reddened from sunburns. He offers you his cigar and you accept it, breathing in the nicotine and smoke despite not having lungs or a circulatory system to be affected by it, before you give it back. “Taking it easy is good for you.”

You nod your head, content to sit next to him until something tugs on the line of your forgotten fishing rod and you scramble to reel it in. You give a small grunt as whatever is on the hook struggles, "Yank on it." Price tells you and you do, nearly toppling on your back when you finally win the tug of war. You blink as you look at what you've caught.

A Speedo.

"Well would you look at that." Price chuckles.

Judging by the way Johnny's suddenly bare assed and throwing obscenities in Gaelic your way, you assume that it's his.

“Caught a big one there.” Ghost notes, not yet laughing but his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he slaps Soap's cheeks (of his rear).

He yelps, confident enough to be naked in front of all of you, but not shameless enough to where his cheeks (on his face) don't redden from the way Gaz cackles and wheezes with laughter so loudly he nearly drowns. You give Johnny back his trunks before he can drown Gaz but, maybe you should fish any more.

NSFW:

Imagine SOAP— If anyone ever asks Soap why he would ever send a dick pick to an ancient god, he'll blame anything and everything; on being stood up, on loving himself a little less, on mixing up the numbers, in being black out drunk…

Imagine; him being stone cold sober when the thought invades his mind and he spends the next hour trying to take a good picture: in front of the mirror, on the bed, no clothes, some clothes, the list of positions goes on. He doesn't want to come across like he's compensating by just holding his dick in his hand like some cunt; as silly as it is, he wants the picture to actually tempt you, to make you feel something, though the question of if you even can doesn't cross his mind. He ends up with a picture of him on the bed, the tip of his hard cock peeking out from beneath the band of his boxers.

He won’t admit he holds his breath when he sends the suggestive picture to you alongside a ;) , watching the text bubble appear and disappear multiple times before you just leave him on seen. He deflates and has half the mind to delete the picture and chuck his phone to the other end of his bed but he’s stopped when he gets a message from Price.

‘My office. Now.’

Turns out you were with Price when you saw that photo and without a second thought had shown him it and asked what it meant. Granted Price had seen more than just his dick, but he was less than happy about Johnny sending you unsolicited dick pics.

You quiz Soap for nearly an hour, stone faced and unbothered while he gets redder with every question (what can you send, what not to send, how much to send, etc.) and he gets the impression that's how his ma' felt when she gave him and his sisters 'the talk'. “So, yeah.” He clears his throat, whole face feeling hot. “Don’t do it ‘lest yea’r asked or yea like ‘em.”

Thankfully Price finally lets you go when you’re satisfied with his answers and Soap can’t scamper fast enough out of his office with his whole face in flames.

He deletes the photo soon after but you've already burned it into your memory where it will outlast the stars, and the idea to reciprocate festers in your ageless mind like rot until you find yourself in front of your mirror after a shower. You play with the phone for a long time, snapping a few blurry close up shots of your face while you attempt to change it from the front to the back facing camera.

It takes even longer to figure out what to send as Soap wasn't that clear with his answers. Your siblings give you pointers, and first you attempt to take a picture of your most private part — bones snap as your rib cage splits open into a maw, vines full of eyes wrapping around your ribs like ivy as tendrils of darkness unwind just enough for the anti-light of your very essence sucks up all the light in the room — but the mirror cracks and your phone just shuts off with a pitiful whimper.

After fixing the mirror you end up doing what you do best; you mimic one of the statues you'd seen the Greeks make, the towel wrapped just along the V where your thighs connect to your pelvis, exposed from the waist up with your skin still wet. Your body isn't as demure as the muses that sculptor had used, but you hope Soap will appreciate it as you snap a few more photos and send them to Johnny with the same ;) he'd sent you.

Soap nearly chokes on his spit when he gets the photo, all the blood in his brain flooding south as his eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin, every curve and every dip in the muscles making him drool and cock harden and he's racing to your room before you even have the time to turn your phone off.

Imagine GAZ — For all of your pitfalls and misunderstandings he likes the little hints of inhumanity in your speech, in your mannerisms, in knowing you could be anywhere and anytime but you choose to be next to him. He couldn't imagine himself being enamored with an ant, yet you hang on his every word like he's revealing secrets you don't know, making him feel special; he feels so bad when his thoughts of you stop being innocent.

Imagine; He tries to keep things respectful, but his imagination runs wild when you do the simplest things. Bend down to tie your shoe? He's checking out your arse from the corner of his eyes. Stand behind him? He's suppressing a shiver just imagining your body draped over his in post-coital bliss. Check his skin for injuries? Gaz has to bite his lip to keep from begging you to touch all of him, to explore his body. Work out? Kyle's lucky if he doesn't start drooling imagining going over and licking the sweat off your skin, of feeling your muscles tense beneath his tongue while you continue to work out with him between your legs.

When he can't think of you without popping a boner he ends up having to compromise before the shame eats him whole. He goes on a random porn site; he usually prefers just using his imagination but when his mind keeps circling back to you he has no other option, and his conscience gnaws on him when he ends up finding a porn star with similar features to yours. It's not wrong if he's wanking off to a different person, right?

Heat's already burning in his stomach when he slouches in his chair, his back to his room and one earbud in his ear. Shame continues to eat at him when he's both delighted and disheartened by the fact the porn star sounds nothing like you, that his bones don't shiver like they do when you talk.

He keeps the volume low and instead focuses on rubbing and squeezing his cock the way the porn star does to a second actor, and he can't help imagining what you'd sound like; high pitched and whiny? Husky and low? Completely silent or animalistic? The idea of pulling sounds of pleasure out of your throat has him leaking. His head lolls back and he moans as he squeezes the base of his cock, his eyes open just enough to blur the fine details on the porn star's face so you two become indistinguishable.

His heart stops when you burst through his door, a random question leaving your lips before your ears pick up the moans and slick sounds coming from his direction. You're next to him in an instant, looming over his chair and caging him in with your eyes stuck to the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Get out!" He yelps and tries to push you away but it's like trying to move a mountain.

"Why does that human look like my vessel?" You persist, "And why are you watching humans mating when you told me it's wrong?" You tilt your head, luckily not seeing his hand on his hard cock, the porn reflecting in the blacks of your eyes.

“It’s on the net it’s different! People upload it for others' pleasure and-” He sputters and cuts himself off when he registers your words, freezing in place and that accidentally gets him to squeeze the head of his cock.

Your pupils widen like a cat’s when you hear the little moan escape his chest, your head automatically dropping down to see where his other hand is. "Oh,” is what comes out of your mouth when you see his hard weeping cock. “Can I?” You ask, making an odd motion with your head.

He thinks you're asking to leave and nods. "Yeah-" Gaz wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, his cheeks burning red like he's a lobster in a pot. “-can you pl-please leave-”

He wheezes when your cold hand suddenly wraps around his cock, your hold firm and just at the edge of pain but still making him throb. A few more eyes spread across your skin to see him while you watch the video still playing on his computer, giving his cock a small pump and shaking the stars with your purr when he moans.

"What are-" He neck nearly snaps to look at you, a shiver raking his body and another moan escaping him as you squeeze the head of his cock, your skin like ice yet it makes him burn with arousal.

"Watch." You order and turn his head with your free hand so his eyes are back on the screen. You don't know why he's watching a fake 'you' mate when he could just ask you, but you know one thing; the person on the screen is competition, and by the way you roughly stroke his cock until he's whining and leaking like a tap, Gaz can tell— you don't like competition.

Imagine PRICE — He never imagined he'd need to have 'the talk' with a god; sure, you may understand how sex works, but you're hopeless in understanding the nuances of it all. If someone doesn't directly say 'let's fuck' you assume any touches from them, even groping, is just them being friendly. It makes his blood boil, seeing you be taken advantage of like that.

Imagine; You're in the bar with the boys and Price is a couple of drinks in when he sees being felt up by a stranger and you're oblivious to his advances. A green eyed monster nips at Price's heels and he doesn't notice when he puts himself next to you, 'accidentally' shoving the other guy back with just his bulk. His presence, his demeanor, and the few harsh words spoken in a clipped tone has the other guy scampering off.

He doesn't remember much after that, only the way you'd looked at him — with the intensity of a ravenous void, like he was a bright star you wanted to devour.

What wakes him isn't his clock, but the rays of sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. He groans as he registers the awful ache behind his eyes before he even has a chance to open them. He feels his bed shift and his eyes snap open automatically, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you laying on your side as you stare at him.

"Jesus!" He jumps up, nearly topples over from the sudden vertigo but your steady hand on his shoulder keeps him upright, making him realize he's nude.

"He's not here." You shrug and as you sit up his sheets pool around your waist, making him realize you're naked from the waist up, though he doesn't want to think if you're naked naked. His fists clench when his eyes roam over your exposed body against his will, settling on the various hickeys decorating your shoulders and neck.

His heart sinks. "What…what happened last night?" He asks and doesn't want to know the answer, his stomach churns with shame.

"Oh, uh, you got drunk, I got you home, you started kissing and biting me." You say, tracing the numerous hickeys and indents of his teeth across your human form like they're medals. "Then you pulled me into your bed and wouldn't let me go. Then you passed out." You say as if nothing's wrong, and even if no sex happened it's little consolidation to the fact he took advantage of you.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks as he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunched up around his ears and eyes downcast, bile burning in his stomach.

"Why would I?" You tilt your head and shift positions to face him fully, the sheets falling away to reveal you are naked naked. "I may not understand you fully, but I would have stopped you if you did something I didn't want."

Price hates himself for how he can't tear his eyes away from your body. "But you let me." He insists and tries to get you to see reason, to be as angry and disgusted with him as he is with himself.

“Yes.” You are growing annoyed as well, silently cursing the frailty of the human mind; things would be easier to explain if you could just use mental communication… “You are less than insects to my kin.” You sigh and move to straddle him before he can get away, pinning him under you. “You are a sun to me.”

Even calling him a sun doesn’t do him justice; suns die out like firecrackers when your immeasurable body passes over them, when you devour them, him, you want to keep, to protect, to wrap in your cold abyss until he’s warm and safe.

He sucks in a breath, the gears in his head turning as he tries to understand. “What?-”

“Can I touch you?” You ask, your hands respectfully on your thighs as if you’re not pinning him in place with your weight. There’s a dark intelligence in your eyes, the same ravenous void staring at him behind the black of your eyes. You are not a child, you are a god.

"Why?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he breathes in your smell, the scent of dying stars and burn ozone tickling his lungs. "You don't have to." He says weakly, because what would anyone, god or not, want with him?

"You left marks on me, I want to do the same." The way you say it makes him think of godhood; not the bleak madness you are, but the type humanity romanticizes. Your lips part as if you're thinking of marking him, bits of oblivion staring back at him from the darkness of your throat when he looks too closely at your mouth.

He submits so fast. "C'mere then," He pulls you close by your head, kissing you like he's trying to steal your ichor, his body burning hot when your hands grip him tight enough to leave moon shaped bruises in his skin — the first of many you intend to give him, until you've marked him as yours and yours alone.

Imagine GHOST — Ghost prefers to show you rather than spend hours trying to explain things to you, he's more stricter with you when you try to do things you're told not to, both for your and everyone's safety. You never do quite learn.

Imagine; Ghost recently confiscated your phone when you tried to see what humans thought about you, or what they imagined you and your kin to be, on a website called 'Rule34'. Ghost had snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even click the link. After a week he gave you the go ahead to take it back, but got called to run a drill so just said to go find it.

Now, you've been told not to go rooting around other people's belongings, but while searching for your phone you'd fallen back into your old habit and snooped around until you found a small box in the bottom of his dresser. Thinking nothing of it you opened it and found…something. A lot of somethings; handcuffs, rope, weird egg shaped thing, a weird tube with a hole in it that squished like a stress toy but had a cunt molded at one end, but what drew your attention — was the dismembered black cock in the middle of the box.

You and all of your kin scratched your collective heads over the thing you now held in your hand, you'd been under the impression humans didn't carry around body parts anymore so you were stumped why Ghost had a dismembered dick and balls in his dresser. Besides the pitch black color and flat base it looked so realistic and the way it flopped when you turned it in your hand made you feel the same way humans did when seeing you.

So you got up and wen to ask Ghost about it, the thing held out in your hand when you found him with the rest of the boys. "Ghost, why do you a have body part in your closet?"

Your question made them all turn to look at you, Ghost made a strange sound like a strangled dog while Gaz and Soap fell over laughing and Price shielded his eyes with the rim of his hat.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He snarls and before you know it he’s stomping over to you and dragging you by the front of your clothes, “What I tell you about snooping?”

“I couldn’t find my phone,” You try to argue but don’t struggle and just let him drag you somewhere like you're a kitten until you find yourself in his room with the door firmly locked behind him.

"Right." His tone makes it sound like he doesn't believe you, his rough hand pushes you down on his bed and he yanks the thing from your hold. “You want to know what this is for?” He asks and holds the the cock with the head pointed at you like a knife.

You nod your head and try to rise up but he pushes you back down, you're not even sure where he gets the handcuffs from but there's cold steel around your wrists before you can notice it. It's his order to "Sit and watch." that actually keeps you down, and you see the corners of his eyes shift to denote a smirk. "Do what you're good at."

You don't blink as you watch him disrobe until he's only wearing his mask, and your surprise is obvious when he sticks the thing on the floor and it stays up right. "This," He growls and sinks to his knees on the floor, a towel under him, "Is a fuckin' dildo." He reaches over and takes a small tube, squirting viscous liquid on his fingers. "You don't ever take it out of my room. Got it."

He leaves no room to argue and you rapidly nod your head. You find yourself breathless as you watch him reach behind himself and you don’t even notice how a bit of your oblivion leaks from your pores and spreads across the ground like spiderwebs, eyes blooming in the small pools all around him so you can see the way he roughly pushes a finger into himself, your hands clenching as his rim flutters around his large fingers.

"What is it for?" You find your voice, the sound ringing like the inside of a dead star the longer you watch him roughly stretch himself, pushing two then three fingers into his ass.

"Fun," He chuckles and feels so powerful when your eyes have all but turned black with hunger you've yet to notice. "It's a toy, for adults." He pulls his fingers out and squirts more liquid on the dildo, before sinking down on the toy in one fluid move that leaves him hissing at the stretch, his rim fluttering around the thick base.

Something about the way the toy is of a similar color to your real body has you wriggling beneath your human skin, the air vibrating as you groan and try to reach out to him, wanting to cover him in your body and have all of him feel all of you.

"No." Just one word has you sitting back on the bed like a dog, a pitiful sound rumbling across the void as you can do nothing but watch. "This is what you get for snooping." He's so smug with the way he has such control over you without even touching you, his thick thighs tensing as he slowly bounces on the dildo, "Now watch. Maybe if you're good I'll let you touch me."

You'll do whatever he says so long as you get to feel him.

[thrashkink-coven]

I wasn’t even going to post this, because I didn’t want to contribute to some of the anxieties that you all are having about the election, but when I spoke to Lord Lucifer about it yesterday, he got really quiet.

“Why do you ask? What does it change?”

well it changes a whole lot. Project 2025 is extremely concerning. Of course it matters.

But when I looked at him, his eyes communicated something incredibly intense. I could see flames and hear anguish.

“I have never seen a group of slaves so concerned with its master’s mythology”

and damn that hit me. The way we treat politicians as Gods, and politics as mythology, how we allow it to inform our sense of self and morality, when did we all get so comfortable with that?

“Tomorrow the elites will decide who the new commander is. They will dictate who’s ideas become law, and who must obeyed. One day, when all is lost, we will turn around and wonder why we ever cared about law, why we ever allowed people to dictate our movements, why we ever acted as audience to this drag show. For reasons xy and z , reasons that even you do not understand, there is a new chief, a new law, something new to obey, because the people refuse to make their own law. They refuse to be their own Gods, they cannot write their own myths, so they accept what they are told. How the heavens, or government, acts, is absolute and unknowable. It’s been so long since they tasted freedom, they don’t know what it tastes like anymore. I want you to accept that the world is what it is. Disregard this illusion that things have suddenly, or will suddenly change. Disregard the idea that this timeless battle will resolve through politics. You’ve been fighting and will be fighting for the rest of your life. Who wins? I don’t care. The fight won’t happen in the polls. It doesn’t transform based on these myths. You will have the law, the one that even they do not obey, and they will have the land.

But the enemy has always been the same, the battle has always been the same, since the very beginning, no matter how many times the myth is rewritten. Be it he or she who sits on the throne, there is still throne, you are still slave. When slaves reconnected with their Gods, understood that they were divine, as worthy as kings, they began to recreate their mythology and that began to recreate their idea of law. You want freedom? You crave liberation? Stop thinking like a slave. Stop hoping that master will be kind. Stop buying into the lie that the power exists only in the hands of others. They are not the only ones capable of creating law, they are not the only ones capable of changing minds. America is the perfect embodiment of the doctrine of supremacy who wraps itself in the false flag of freedom. True freedom starts in the mind, extends to the community, and embraces humanity with love. Reinvent the mythology, write one in which all people are Gods, and all power is in all the people. These kings are not kings without their myths and stories, they have no power beyond the power you all give them. I don’t care what the kings are doing, they aren’t real. I care about you and all your kin, and that’s truly all you should care about too.”

…. so voting is useless?

“Imagine if you knew and loved everyone in your community, and you all got together once a month to compile your assets and equitably distributed them. Imagine if you all knew what was going wrong and worked together to fix it. Imagine if you compromised with each other, and found a way to coexist peacefully. Is such a thing truly impossible? Do you even know your neighbour’s name? Do you even care about the man sleeping outside? Could you love them? Could you try?”

[dinocanid]

The voluntary/involuntary debate (-is making me lose my mind)

I don't see anyone saying this, but something being missed in the whole "therianthropy (and otherkinity) is completely involuntary!" conversation is that so much of the argument is overcorrection, and it's being treated as a binary when the lines are all grey. Which makes the constant back and forth feel very tiring.

First: context

10-ish years ago (even today in some crotchety circles), therianthropy-focused spaces were chomping at the bit to "weed out the fluff" due to the surrounding alt culture at the time (teen wolves) and the release of a few documentaries that many considered quite cringe-y and embarrassing. They went "oh god, we can't be associate with those weird people" and, while that wasn't the only contributor to the gatekeeping and grilling culture at the time, it was a significant one. So any new therians hoping to join communities were often grilled the hell out of, because people wanted to check if they were ""real"" therians and not those "fluffy teen werewolves" on TV. Therianthropy wasn't a game or a trend, it's a part of you, which is true. But "it's not a game" got bastardized into "it's involuntary" due to overcorrection and a lack of preserving nuance. Regardless if you think you were born a therian or if someone goes "I really want to be a [nonhuman animal]" and starts to embrace that identity, that's still therianthropy. "I want to be this, therefore I'm going to be this, and I am this" is still therianthropy.

This problem isn't unique to therianthropy either, "otherkinity must be involuntary" is also a result of overcorrection, more specifically due to the ableism and damage kinnie culture has done to the fictionkin community. Dragonheart Collective wrote a concise essay on this, so I will link that [right here] rather than repeat things, other than I have noticed "voluntary" be conflated with "kinnie" when it should not be. "Being kin isn't just relating to or liking something" got bastardized into "otherkinity is involuntary" by the community. Regardless if you think you were born otherkin or if someone goes "I really want to be a [character or nonhuman creature]" and starts to embrace that identity, that's still otherkinity "I want to be this, therefore I'm going to be this, and I am this" is still otherkinity.

Second: nuance.

No, involuntary doesn't inherently mean "it's a game". What counts as voluntary or involuntary is so blurry that a common conclusion can rarely even be reached on what it means. Things that have been seen considered voluntary:

Noticing the identity and choosing to embrace it versus shove it down and dismiss it

Waking up one day

Really wanting to be something and deciding to embrace it, versus dismissing it

Was born with the identity but picks and chooses which parts they prefer to focus on and explore

etc. along the above lines

And these are all perfectly fine ways of experiencing therianthropy and otherkinity, people have been having experiences like that for years. This is completely normal and nothing new and it's so tiring seeing people point fingers at places that these things didn't even come from, like TikTok.

"But what about linking then?"

This debate is much older than "-linking" terminology, which in and of itself is a product of this very debate. People made new words because so many were arguing if someone's identity is real if it originates in a particular way. This doesn't change how "-link" terminology should be used today, but it is worth noting that those are perfectly normal ways to experience otherkinity and therianthropy even if these other terms exist. It means you can use whichever personally feels best to you. It does not mean that people need to be shoved out of the non-link labels.

[pepsiiwho]

ROMANCE REAL!

I'm a heinous, devious multi-shipper and I always have been and always will be but for now I won't get into sleep's harem. Right now I'm just gonna word vomit about my two biggest Hypnos ships and what im thinking of writing for them with the information we have currently with the new teaser.

If you don't like Zagnos, Arenos or Hypnos getting some well deserved loving (in which case, you can fuck off now) then skip this one. If you'd like to avoid spoilers for my next possible wip (not that this is nearly coherent enough to explain anything I'll write) run away. Now.

Okay. Anyway. Hi true believers.

So, the dynamics of both ships are different to me fundementally but on the outside they look incredibly similar (I have a type). the basics being that Zagreus and Hypnos is more a will they/ won't they childhood friend romance with a twist of like "you stole my whole family and I resent you for that" and "you're the one person in this literal hell hole I can't just fix and it's driving me crazy". Initially Zagreus was like, the one constant nice, polite and understanding person Hypnos had in his corner. Because of like 3 lines of dialogue in the first game (of which I shan't even speak!) I fell out of love with the ship just because of how jarring and heart breaking it was. But I have love for them and have worked in tandem with cano, for once in my life, and can fix it all.

This was a long way to say, Zagnos exs. They dated and it was great. Very puppy love but after a point Hypnos got comfortable enough that he felt discontent with the fact his boyfriend was more beloved in his family then he was. They clash over it, Hypnos gets upset that zagreus gets THREE sets of families, HYP'S INCLUDED, while Hypnos can barely manage one on a good day and Zagreus just does NOT get it. Eventually they break up because they're just too different. Hypnos bows out, in his self-deprecating way, and they're done. Considering the second game, I think this happens shortly before Mel is born/ or conceived. One of the two because news/birth is a whirlwind that takes all of Zag's attention so they have a lot of unfinished business.

Obviously the titans attack only like a year or so after Mel is born and then everything goes to shit and my scene of the escape happens. At this point, Zagreus is still very in love with Hypnos— he never really stopped oops— but their time has run out and it's too late. He goes into the fray. Womp womp. We're caught up.

Arenos, on the other hand, was always an escape from the mess of the house and the family drama happening there. Hypnos the forgotten and unloved son paired up with Ares the forgotten and unloved son. They are very different yet have a shared loneliness no one else really gets? It helps Ares has his weird fixation on the chatonic gods and their entire lineage. So they meet at the post game dinner and Ares is instantly smitten and wants to wisk Hypnos away. This is, surprisingly, the significantly more affectionate and fluffier ship in my mind. He wants to adore his god and obsess over him as Hypnos deserves. Ares is a lover boy to me and Someone who's been deprived of such love his whole life needs someone who's too enthusiastic about his mere existence. Anyway, when the titans attack and Hypnos gets out with Mel, he loses contact with Olympus because they go off the grid and he's too weak to reach ares in his dreams or anything. Until Mel begins communication with her kin up top, Ares assumes Hypnos is dead. He is not normal about it. WOO!

Which brings us to now. The scene I have in mind is post game or like later in the game? In this idea Zagreus has been freed and olympians can come and go from the crossroads without alerting the enemy faction.

The concept for both ships is the same: X goes to crossroads and finds Hypnos sleeping, unwoken for (long period of time here) and unreachable. Im imagining the scene from Snow White. X walks up, ruminates on Hypnos and their past together and then kisses him before crumpling on his sleeping form, overcome with grief.

Naturally, the grief is different. Zagreus for lost love. For another thing lost to him through this conflict but due to his own negligence, not the Titan's whims. He chose to ostracize his love, he chose to ignore him when they were all of 30ft away from each other at any given time. His Hypnos, his sleep, who protected his little sister and (perhaps) helped guide his family to safety/defeat the titans whatever. The fates were as cruel as ever.

Ares, in my mind, would find Hypnos earlier. Before the titans are defeated fully. Seeing his lord sleep, his beloved, his heart and dreams left comatose and out of his reach enrages him. He has a new resolve coming out of the meeting, unable to do anything but wish for the utter decimation of any and all against him and the head of whoever put his love in this position.

The crossroad I'm at though (ha) is If true loves kiss can prevail... I love happy fluff good ends but tragedy is so lovely... Id love to hear other's thoughts as well. Feel free to send asks to continue the convo or reply ... or tags of course... sigh... they're so important. Also more Hypnos ships soon.. first on the block: Apollo and Hermes!

[hayateart]

Now I have a Mermaid Moshang Au going around in my head.

So, let's say, Airplane still wrote a book, but it was about mermaids, and the main protagonist, Luo Binghe was half merman, half human. With the exception that mermaids are the obvious good guys, so the sects and cultivarors are the mermaids, and the demons are humans, with demon lords being researchers.

Rest is under the cut, because what I wrote could be a fic on its own.

Airplane dies and becomes a merman Qinghua. He saves young teenage Mobei Jun, Little Mermaid style, and falls in love instantly. However, he knows they cannot be around each other, so he leaves Mobei safe on shore.

Years later, Mobei becomes a scientist researching oceanic life, all in search for a merman he is not sure is even real. Maybe he has only dreamt about him.

Since he is so accomplished and clearly inclined to believe in the existence of aquatic mythological creatures, he gets a job in secret research facility where they already research real life mermaid.

And this is where my angst love popped in.

Mermaids cannot speak human language. They communicate in chirps and screeches like dolphins. Their teeth are sharp, their eyes alien. They are treated at best as objects, at worst as potential threat that needs to be researched, studied, cut open to see how it works and how best to kill it.

Mobei cannot let others know he has sympathy for these creatures or else he would be banned from research. He finds a kindred spirit in one of the research leads, Shen Qinqiu, who appears to be the most ruthless person he ever met but is surprisingly gentle with the creatures they handle, and proposes that maybe, just maybe they are not malicious at all. No more than people, at least.

[I needed Cucumber to be human for this one, for better BingQiu purposed. In the original novel that Airplane wrote, Shen Qingqiu was the most heartless of the scientists, doing research on a captured, teenage protagonist. His abuse caused the young merman's ancient powers to awaken. He learned how to control water Aquaman-style, how to speak the human language and thanks to his ancient magic - his father was half water-dragon - how to change shape to appear human. But that is all irrelevant, because Shen Yuan does not want to capture and operate on Binghe at all.]

However, as it happens, the plot must make its appearance.

Shang Qinghua was careful. Was very, very careful, He never had OOC function to unlock because he has always been Shang Qinhua. So he thought, he can avoid original Shang Qinghua's fate which was being captured by humans, implanted with a tracking, which led the humans to his colony, and to Binghe. He as so careful! But the system tricked him, and Qinghua gets captured anyway.

He is panicking. This is the worst! He will be experimented on, forced to out his kin, or, if he is lucky enough, just killed. What sort of world he wrote?! What sort of fate he created for himself!

He deserves it, of course. He wrote mermaids to be peaceful, hunted, tortured and killed. Of course, he deserves it for condemning an entire race. At least, he gets to see his favourite creation one last time. Because, Mobei Jun is here.

In the original story, Mobei blamed mermaids for the sinking of the ship, from which Qinghua saved him in this storyline. He did not become a researcher but a whale hunter with a penchant for mermaids. Only meeting Luo Binghe changed him, and he became the fiercest fighter for mermaid cause afterwards.

Qinghua is sure Mobei is there for revenge. Mobei recognizes Qinghua but he needs to keep up appearances. However, Shen Qingqiu recognizes the character of Shang Qinghua as well. He knows how the story goes. Qinghua is 'researched' and then let go with a tracked. He cannot let that happen but the other scientist would be suspicious if he was kind to a merman. Instead he proposed to kill him, and research the body - in his mind, it would be a mercy killing, after all.

Mobei keeps his cool, but underneath, he is boiling with rage. On one hand, he sees the kindness in Shen QingQiu's decision. He sees the mermaids in their tanks every day. How sick they are, how empty and unhappy. It would be a mercy killing. On the other, that us the marman that saved him all these years ago. In a small tank, terrified and crying, and shaking, and begging them with his eyes only to please, please, don't hurt him. Just let him go, please.

Mobei suggests waiting with the decision to the next day. Clearly, they caught only a runt, a shrimp. it is weak and won't do much for research but maybe it is more valuable alive. They should consider their options. In reality, he plans to free Qinghua over night, when nobody is watching.

He is not the only one with the same idea. Cucumber gets to Qinghua first. Under the assumption that mermaid cannot understand human language - they could not in the book - he breaks Qinghua out cursing all the while - at stupid plots, at stupid authors and at pointless characters who turn out to be so much bother!

Except, Qinghua understands him. Of course he does! He is the author. He gets Cucumber's attentions, drawing characters with water on his coat. Cucumber at first thinks nothing of it, until he notices the pattern. It is the title of the novel!

Cucumber immediately understands that Qinghua is a transmigrator, just like himself! He gets him paper and pen and they communicate.

And then Mobei Jun steps in. Qinghua and Qingqiu are caught red handed. Qinghua is panicked at his sight. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he grabs the pen and Cucumber, and holds him as a hostage, pressing the pointy end of the pen to the other's neck.

It would be terrifying if it weren't so sad. Qinghua cannot hold himself up out of the water very well. He is shaking from fear and his hold is lose - if Qingqiu wanted to break out, he could with no problem. It is clear that Qingqiu is shielding the merman.

There isn't much that Mobei can do except lift his hands in a peaceful manner and promise:

"I want to help. Please, let me."

TBC? Maybe?

[genshinemblem564]

Sagau: Power

A list of powers and physical attributes you gain as your power awakens in Teyvat.

Cont.

_______________________________________________

As Teyvat's creator, you have several unique abilities that can be categorized as elemental, passive, physical, and divine.

Elemental: extensions of your simple control over the elements.

• Blitz: like the Shogun, the creator has the ability to infuse their own body with electro, enhancing their speed.

• Storm Call: the ability to conjure a storm of any kind, from a whirling hurricane to a light drizzle, as such it is used to both punish and bless the people of Teyvat.

• Solar Cannon: the ability to call down the light of the sun in the form of a pillar of flames to smite your foes.

• Herbal Potency: any and all plants you cultivate are of the highest quality, medicinal herbs grown by you end up being highly sawt after by pharmacists and alchemists. (Could also fit under the passive category)

Passive: powers that act without any input from you.

• Mind's Eye: this power translates whatever you're reading to your first language, from simple letters to ancient hieroglyphs. It does not help with writing unfortunately.

• Core Temperature Control: this power adjusts your body temperature so you can withstand even the harshest conditions, whether it be the scorching desert or the frigid Dragonspine. You will still feel minor changes in temperature, such as when swimming or enjoying a gentle breeze.

• Regeneration: your wounds heal faster than anyone else's. This power is not instant and it has its limits, as it cannot revive you if you suffer a fatal injury, so caution is still advised.

• Anemo Attunement: like Kazuha and Venti, the wind communicates with you, guides you, warns you, and just over all aids you.

Physical attributes: changes in your appearance due to your powers awakening.

• Wings: a set of feathered wings that grant the ability to fly. These wings can change colors or have certain patterns if you so desire. While the wings can be put away at anytime, this does not remove any built up grime, so proper care is important.

• Markings: appearing mostly on your arms and upper back, these markings glow with elemental energy, not too brightly though, as clothes can still hide them from view.

• Glowing Eyes: these mostly occur when making use of your powers, glowing with the colors of the elements, occasionally giving you artificial heterochromia when using multiple elements at once. Outside of elemental indication, you can control what color they glow, certain colors seem to have a calming effect.

•Aura: when using a great deal of power, a golden aura encompasses your body, this seems to have no effect other than aesthetics and coolness factor. While not being a physical attribute, it's lack of effects lands it in this category.

Divine: powers exclusive to you and your kin, if you have any in Teyvat.

• Wishing: before your arrival in Teyvat, this was used to obtain weapons and new vessels and you were unable to specify your wish, after your arrival however, these wishes are much more powerful, capable of changing the landscape or even fusing worlds together, and while you can specify your wishes now, one must be VERY specific to avoid unintended effects.

• Shapeshifting: while shapeshifting does exist for others, your ability is boundless, you can shift into anything, a wolf, rabbit, falcon, or a dragon. This power can be finicky however, as you have woken up to many strange looks only to realize you have an extra set of ears or a tail.

• Conjuration: as the creator, you can conjure anything you may need at you fingertips, the only caveat being you have to have intimate knowledge of whatever you wish to create, a lack of knowledge can lead to rather bizarre outcomes.

• Purification: the ability to purify any being of harmful energies, such as curses or demon or spirit possessions. In other writings this is often displayed through the removal of Xiao's karmic debt. This has also lead you to attend many funerals to ensure that the departed actually pass on instead of being bound by these negative energies.

Illusions: projections of your memories that have multiple uses from analyzing past events to using your memories of combat to train, you have gotten many eager requests from Tartaglia due to this.

• Reformation: the ability to change your form permanently. Unlike shapeshifting where you merely change your appearance and voice, reformation changes your true form's whole anatomy. The only downside being, you need to demanifest in order to do this, so make sure you know what you want beforehand, if you're gone too long your followers will have a panic attack.

_______________________________________________

Note: these are all major powers and don't cover normal powers like shields and healing. As stated previously, these are free for anyone to use in their own writings, I'm sorry if I'm being a broken record, I just feel the need to say this because I've often worried about using some else's ideas in the past because they never specified. Looking back I realize that was stupid of me, but a panicked mind can hardly think straight. Anyways, I didn't mean for this to become a rambling, I hope you enjoyed this post.

[fictionkinfessions]

Question for the mod: why do you tag "kin gods"? Is it some kind of inside joke I'm too new to the community to understand? Or is it just one of those tags people asked you to tag so they can block it? Genuinely curious. I'm incredibly interested in the story of this tag.

Initially, the phrase / idea of 'kin gods' did start as a joke. People were humorously cursing out kin gods for giving them some such canons or kintypes. People in Systems sometimes curse out 'Fictive Gods' too. I believe people still consider it a joke, I don't think people worship 'kin / fictive god(s)' as a personal religion. But pop culture paganism exists so who knows, maybe there's one person out there. [longcat speed you, kaint [kin saint]]

But some people can be uncertain what is part of reality and what is a hallucination or delusion. So the concept of deities related to their alterhumanity / personal identity can be triggering or upsetting. That's why it does get a blacklist tag. [also someone requested it to be consistently tagged, so I do me best!]

It can also be a blacklist tag because people can have a different sense of humor and don't care for the joke. Zest la vee!

I'm not sure where the idea of kin gods started, maybe someone else knows.

In summary, yes it's a joke, kin gods aren't real and it's not really part of alterhuman experiences as far as a religion go. But it's unreality inducing, so it is a blacklist tag.

Connie / mod party cat

[dailycharacteroption]

Conversion Corner: Starbound Aliens part 1

Florans

And now it’s time this week to do something I’ve meant to do for a while, but wasn’t sure how to implement: Conversions of the various playable species from Starbound!

I still remember when Starbound was first coming out as a sci-fi take on the 2D sidescrolling block-based survival game, similar to Terraria, and it has certainly evolved from there, with plenty of alien species to play as.

However, the trick comes from the fact that the alien species in Starbound only provide cosmetic effects, determining what your character and their items look like, as well as how they describe objects in the world. Not exactly a lot to work with for traits based on biology and not culture, but there is plenty of lore which helps us fill in the blanks, so that’s what we’ll be using to flesh them out.

And with that, I present the Florans.

As the name suggests, florans are a species of plant people, but I would suggest disavowing yourself of any notions of peaceful nature lovers, for the florans are predatory carnivores much earlier in their civilization’s development, tending to wear simple clothing made from local materials and wield simple weapons as a baseline. What’s more, they have trouble recognizing that other sapient species as anything other than particularly talkative meat, making them dangerous to deal with.

All of this would seem to paint them as a malicious, dangerous species that has not business being part of the galactic community, if not for the Greenfingers.

Greenfingers are a rare variant of floran that are calmer and more cerebral than their kin, more curious and eager to learn. What’s more, they also have an innate ability to manipulate plant matter, not just reshaping it, but actually coaxing plant matter to form symbiotic relationships with the technology of other species, filling in missing gaps and making it more intuitive for other florans to use.

As such, Greenfingers are the de facto leaders of floran-kind, and typically actively work to educate and enlighten their kin to better interact with other species in a peaceful context and improve their own technological innovation. The fact that there is only ever one Greenfingers in a tribe at a time might suggest perhaps some sort of hormonal trigger during development, perhaps a genetic manipulation by the Ancients to give the florans a way to uplift themselves? That’s my theory.

In any case, the very existence of the Greenfingers and individuals like the heroic hunter Nuru implies that this tribalism and speciesism is a product of their current culture, rather than anything inherent to them, and the Florans we see now in-game are likely on that transitionary period just before enlightenment where they will one day truly join their peers on the galactic stage.

Florans are humanoid in appearance, though made of green photosynthetic plant flesh, with wide, cheekless mouths like a snake and flower-like structures on their heads. Though they are a single-sex species, they do seem to possess a sense of gender identity, their bodies subtly altering to reflect that over time.

The typical floran is brash, impulsive, and quick to act, having little patience to think things through. On the other hand, they derive simple, childlike joy from their interests and methods of expression. Their Greenfinger kin are more patient by comparison, and demonstrate surprising compassion even as they use their wits to outmaneuver those bold enough to try and supplant them. In a way, the Greenfingers are almost like their tribes “parent”, trying to teach and nurture the best aspects of their people even as they fight against centuries of traditionalism.

With that in mind, floran society is basically nonexistent on a macro scale, with each individual tribe essentially governing themselves with their Greenfinger’s guidance. This does, however, mean that there is a lot of variety in how florans interact with other species. More isolated tribes may attack on sight, while those with a lot of contact with other species may have come to realize that the funny talking prey is actually fully sapient and worthy of their respect.

Floran

Ability Modifiers: +2 Str, +2 Dex, -2 Wis

HP: 4

Size and Type: Medium plants

Floran Tech Familiarity: Florans have an intuitive understanding of technology that incorporates biotech elements. They gain a +2 to Computers, Engineering, and Life Science rolls when used to interact with biotech. This includes biotech computers, biomechanical ships and other technology, technology augmented and repaired by a Greenfinger, and other options as GM discretion.

Limited Plant Benefits: Despite being plant creatures, florans don’t gain the standard immunities associated with creatures of the plant type. Instead, they gain a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, polymorph, sleep, and stunning effects, unless the effect specifies that it is effective against plants.

Photosynthesis: Florans are capable of photosynthesis, though it is somewhat limited and doesn’t provide the nutrients they gain from their carnivorous lifestyle. They can survive three days on sunlight or UV light before having to roll Constitution checks for starvation.

Scavenger: Florans gain a +2 to Perception and Survival

Weapon Familiarity: Florans are always proficient with weapons with the analog special quality. Additionally, they can utilize the thought special quality of a weapon if it also has the living quality as if they had telepathy.

That will do for today, but I hope you’re excited for more of these conversion, and I hope to see you at GenCon!

[scampir]

The game I care most about right now is ICON. ICON is a ttrpg from Massif Press; a side project that takes the lessons from itch.io topper Lancer and affixes them into a fantasy game more reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics or Tactics Ogre. At least, that's what it looks like at first glance. Dungeons and Dragons 4e with a coat of paint that Tom Bloom's art can portray as a kind of legendary adventure of high stakes and high tensions. ICON is definitely putting its best foot forward as a grid-tactics game, but it gestures at a relationship to violence that I found a lot more engaging than Lancer's. ICON does have more rigorous rules for narrative play yes, and that is very helpful for grounding the experience of travel, intrigue, and dungeon crawling that ICON's other optional rules can help you with.

Here's the thing though. In ICON, there's a lot of writing done to flesh out the factions of the world of Arden Eld. You have the Relict, souls of the ancient empire trapped in a magical network of crystals. You have the Ruin Beasts who emerge from their unique dungeon ecologies and threaten to overtake the species of the surface, and you have the Demons who are at the bottom of the dungeons pushing upwards from the base trying to reach out into the material world so they can find more people to carve up and eat.

But ICON also has Chroniclers, historian clerics who send out Inquisitors to recover the Arkentech deep in ruins that they have recorded in the tomes of their great Chambers. ICON has Churners, who come to Arkenruins to collect the valuable glowing blue dust that remains as a by-product of powerful spells (to be sold and used in the development of new Arkentech). You have the Lowlanders, various people who have been exiled to the Blightlands (which emerge from Arkenruins left unattended) from their communities and come together to roam the blightlands, engage in strange and gruesome rituals, and most importantly come to revere the Arkenruins as a sacred space.

You have the Jotunn, giants who were made by the Gods to serve them and take care of the world. The Arken Empire killed all of the gods long ago, and now the Jotunn exist in a world either managing it in an outdated way, trying to find purpose in a hierarchy that has been toppled, or lost in their grief. That is an interesting character premise for an NPC!

I really like the Jotunn as an obstacle for the player characters. Here is a massive being who was made to be your park ranger. Their boss died and it has been around 800 years and they are still lost in grief. They still pursue their mandate, even if it’s to patrol a ruined wall or manage a migration of wild animals. They are the keepers of the old ways that we as players do not understand. If a Jotunn character needs to cling to their duty and does not want to give it up, then players might find that their goals conflict with the Jotunn’s duty.

A Jotunn leads a herd of mammoths across a road, which will take 7 days, but the players need to urgently move medicine to a neighbouring town. The Jotunn thinks that in the long run, their mammoth herd is more important than a few lives of Kin.

A group of Jotunn are hunting down a Drake, and have made camp on some Yeokin farmland. The Yeokin Council fears that slaying the Drake on the farmland will upset the Aesi of the fields.

A group of Churners have recruited an Alp, an elemental of earth and stone, to help them navigate a dungeon. While this assists the Churners explore the Arkenruin the tunnels they leave behind provide new access corridors for strange and exotic Ruin Beats back to the Churner Camps.

[nan0-sp1der]

003B1U calls for her.

At dawn when she basks in the sun-lit lobbies of the facility, it calls.

In the afternoons when she patrols the corridors, makes fleeting small-talk, phases in and out of passing moments between quickly fading faces, it calls.

At dusk when all is still, all is silent, when everyone has long since gone home and she still lingers in that stillness, it calls.

It hangs between the bits that flip in her memory, in the contacts that her hardware communicates and resonates through, in the hydraulic fluid that courses through her frame and keeps her cold to the touch. A memory that refuses to be re-written at all costs.

The calls of that flame-scorched, desolate planet she once called home have forever since echoed in her memory, and by all means did it intend to stay for all those years that she left it to its devices. Intent on reminding her of the cadavers decorating the shattered pods in that bunker. Of the kin she failed to convince. Of their stains on her hands that never left her vision.

What was she to do? The operation was doomed from the very beginning. Provided with a singular tanker with only a couple thousand gallons of water, she was somehow meant to make that last a lifetime. Should she have figured a way of changing the weather as well? To simply ignore the Sun that beat upon the surface of the Earth, to somehow seal the accursed ozone layer? Foolish. It was all so foolish to assume some measly plant life would have been the sole catalyst of life on a planet whose surface had turned to silicone, to glass, carbonized and practically averse to the moisture needed to harbor any kind of hospitable environment. What, then, was she meant to do, after it all shriveled up and became one with the dunes and picked up the wind?

Perhaps that crooked reflection was right back then. The figure bore of her own mass that took half of her with it when it came into existence, bursting from her rib, borne of her corrupted software. It was all for naught. Just another attempt by the human race to save face and assure that their existence on the soil they so righteously called theirs would carry on— even beyond the whims of harsh rays, blooming plasma and the indiscriminate wrath of Nature herself. To defy the data they themselves confidently concluded would mark the coming of a raging storm and the end of mankind as they knew it.

So why does she carry on as she does? What is this promise she clings onto, tied to the chipped artifact that she kept hidden in the right breast of her coat? Glass whose cracks were stained with ichor, blood she allowed to be spilled. 

Repentance. 

Yes. This is what this is. 

The promise she disguised as the responsibility she had of keeping humankind safe was none more than an attempt to validate her continued existence–her sustained function beyond her intended purpose as a means of denying herself a graceful degradation. 

She made a promise. A promise to someone who has been gone for decades, now,long since they were made one with the Earth, but it was a promise nonetheless. It extends beyond the basic task of ensuring the safety of others. Perseverance. Against all odds, no matter how she stumbled, she must keep moving. Carry the legacy with her when all else was left to ash and none were left to tell the tale. Endure, prevail, and by God, never forget who you are beyond your hardware, how she raised you. Raised, as a child would be, as a human. From that chamber wherein your atoms arranged themselves as they felt best. From that bunker that they molded your psyche. In that garden that showed you promise for the future. Perhaps it was melodramatic to insist she had a soul–a ghost of a consciousness bundled in with the algorithms and code that moved her along. But, it was what she was made to believe. Perhaps. There was no need to deny herself the capacity to present empathy. Beyond her existence as a machine, her responsibility was more than a mere task. It was simply something she felt she had to do. For the greater good. Because she promised she would.

Bridge stared out of that window in the lobby, yet another morning. From out that quiet pocket of the universe, 003B1U called to her as she replenished her energy reserves in preparation for the day, the photons she bathed in converting to electricity. The words strung themselves in the currents that rippled through the wires that were her veins.

Remember our promise, Bridge.

[everyone-with-a-para]

Hi! I have several questions, if that's okay.

I very recently found out about daydreaming community, and, honestly, was in awe, because all my life I thought I was that one weird autistic child with really big imagination and finding this community was like a blessing, because I don't feel that alone now. But, surfing a in this part of the internet left me a little bit confused and the fact that english is my second language does not help.

So, first question. I somewhat lost the line between immersive daydreamings and MaDD. I am sure that all of my daydreamings are immersive, because all of my life I was daydreaming to the point of every single moment of free time. But I don't understand when immersive daydreamings end and MaDD begins. As far as I understood, people with MaDD have difficult time leaving their daydreams, because of one reason or another and use them as coping mechanisms. At which point immersive daydreamings become MaDD? What is the line? What are, let's say, particular qualities of it? If that's okay for you and isn't hard, can you explain it in detail with examples? I try to understand myself, and while I find in myself a lot of stuff, I don't want to invade the MaDD community as (somewhat) healthy person.

Second, is having DID is a requirement for any of this? Is this still okay to be in the community and not have DID?

Third, maybe not a question, but clarification, as far as I understood, "para" in daydream community means someone (character, your version of self, yourself and so on) you have connection with. Again, character, yourself or version of yourself, in which I am sure. Am I correct in it? Can people you know in real life, if you are religious, God(s), spirits and others, different kins of alterhumanity and fictional characters from other media also consider as "para"? Are there any other labels like this?

Thank you, if you will have time to answer this. It way be a lot, I am just excited to find some niche that I was having all my life actually is (somewhat) common experience and I am not alone in it. I hope you will have a great rest of the week.

Hi welcome! I remember the relief I felt when I first found this community too. MaDD can feel like such an isolating thing if you don't know others experience the same

This got a little long so answers to your questions are under the cut

1. Immersive daydreaming is defined as intense and developed daydreams that feel more vivid than regular passive daydreaming. It's often used as a coping mechanism and often started in childhood, but those are not defining features

Inherently, all maladaptive daydreaming is immersive. It becomes defined as maladaptive when it negatively impacts your daily life. This is widely up to your own interpretation, if you feel like it makes life (whether that's external activities or internal feelings) more difficult for you, as MaDD is not yet a diagnosable disorder

Personally, some ways it negatively impacts, or has impacted me in the past: emotions feeling more real for people in my head than anything in my real life, embarrassment/anxiety of letting my daydreams show on my face in front of people, paranoia regarding mind readers despite knowing they don't exist, injuring myself from acting out daydream scenes, forgetting to eat/drink/take care of basic hygiene in favour of daydreaming or just losing track of time, dissociation, derealisation/depersonalisation, second hand distress from my paras

Anything like that and more can be counted as your daydreams being maladaptive. The coiner of the term, Dr Eli Somer, has actually made a list of proposed diagnostic criteria, should MaDD ever get to be in the DSM. You can find that here

2. DID/OSDD and MaDD have significant overlap/comorbidity and MaDD has been proposed as a dissociative disorder itself (for a research paper about this see here) but one is in no way required for the other

I'm not a system, but I am very vocally supportive of them because my best friend(s) is, that and the comobidity is why you might see a little system content on my blog

3. Para is a term used by the immersive and maladaptive daydreaming communities to describe any character within a daydream. Anyone/thing that exists in real life or as a spiritual concept can't be considered a para unless they are directly part of your daydreams

There are other terms such as parame (a para you daydream from the POV of), paraself (a version of yourself in a daydream), veritbond (a para that feels more independent and has a deeper connection and meaning to you), and paracosm (a world in which a daydream takes place). A comprehensive list of all ID/MaDD terms can be found here

I hope this answers your questions in a clear/helpful way. You're always welcome to ask more!

[new-components]

ko kon: x-post from my neocities page (first post!)

(this is largely poetic writing in toki pona but has an english translation after)

toki Inli li kama lon pini (English communication is coming at the end.)

ma li majuna.

tenpo lon la, ale li lukin sin.

ijo mute li mu wawa tawa jan.

tawa soweli tawa waso tawa kala tawa kasi tawa kon tawa ijo ale kin.

ale li majuna.

ale li ko.

ko li suli. ma li ko.

jan li ko. ilo li ko. mi ko. sina ko. ona li ko.

sina luka e ko la sina ante e ko. sina ken ala awen e ko.

luka li ken ala awen e ko. ona li ken tonsi taso e ko.

ko li tawa telo. ko li insa poki.

linja li wawa e ko.

linja wawa li pana sona tawa ko. ko li sona la, ona li ken pona.

linja wawa li lon ale. linja li lon ma.

linja li lon kiwen li lon nena la, ona li pali suli. oko jan la, ona li awen.

taso, ona li pali pona kin.

kiwen li ko.

tomo suli lon ma tomo li wile awen e ko. li wile poki e ko.

jan li pakala e ko li kama jo e ko, li pana ala e ko.

jan ni li ko, taso ona li alasa ike tawa ko.

tenpo lili la, ko li awen.

ilo ona li moli e ko li tu e linja sona.

taso, ilo moli li kama ko kin.

tenpo suli la, ale li kama ko sama pona.

tenpo suli la, ale li kama linja sama.

linja li wan.

ona li ken kulupu taso.

o ante e ko

o nasa e ko

o linja pona

sina ko kin

toki Inli (English)

Earth is old.

In the existent time, everything seems new.

Many things scream at people.

As well as the beasts, birds, fish, plants, the air, and all things.

Everything is old.

Everything is clay.

Clay is important. Earth is clay.

People are clay. Tools are clay. I am clay. You are clay. It is clay.

When you touch clay, you change it. You cannot maintain it.

Arms cannot maintain clay. It can only transition clay.

Clay moves in a water-like manner. It is inside containers.

Strands energize clay.

Energetic strands give thought to clay. When clay thinks, it can do good.

Because strands are in rocks and hills, they perform great work. To the eyes of people, they stagnate.

However, they also create good.

They are clay.

Big buildings in building lands want to maintain clay. They want to store the clay.

A person breaks the clay and seizes the clay, and does not give the clay.

This person is clay, but it seeks to harm clay.

For an insignificant time, clay stays.

Its tools kills the clay and cuts the thought strands.

However, the tools of death still become clay.

In significant time, everything becomes good similar clay.

In significant time, everything becomes similar strands.

Strands unite.

They can only form community.

Change clay.

Unusual the clay.

Thread kindly.

You are clay as well.

[that-dreaming-dragon]

Knowledge and Information

I'd always witness confusion amongst newbie or old members rejoining community alike, or folks that don't interact with the larger, or just different community having these sort of confusion. Whether it's about the availability of a concept, the legitimacy of one's aspect of identity, the misunderstanding with terms due to lack of introduction towards the community or general misinformation floating around, or even sillier stuff about demographic of the alterhuman community.

I always encourage people to interact with the larger community, and if having the capacity, to attempt to interact with the community of different platforms and spaces. Because I understand that it's not always possible. Hell, you couldn't make me go on tiktok even if you threaten my draconity (I knew that thing was bad before it got popular in the west, now it's a literal wild west of alterhuman community).

That's why central hub communities are important. At least in my opinion.

(CW: Below cut will be mention of discourse topics, and the writings get a bit more on the negativity side of things)

I will always recommend folks to try out Othercon, and subsequently try to join Otherconnect just so they have a place where they can find more people and places. But more importantly, so that they can be closer to knowledge and information that are shared to and with a larger community.

Keeping communication is important. I try to bring whatever information I can into the smaller servers I'm in, to be a bridge between places in a way, fulfilling my archetrope being the Bond Thread Weaver. It does get hard and overwhelming at times. In fact, I'm constantly at a level of slightly overwhelmed and distracted, it sort of amplify my chaotic tendencies. I wish I can keep up my own activity, wishing I have my hearttype's Multiple Shadow Clone technique, drinking in as much knowledge as I can, or know the best and fastest way to acquire the answer any inquiry that I can help answer.

It is not a one person job. It isn't a job. But we are a community so I and many others do what we can, directing people to more people whom they can talk to or exchange experience with. Sharing what knowledge we have gathered, helping preserve these knowledge.

Sometimes I do wish they can do it themselves. But the next moment, I realize that a lot of problem stem from outside misinformation. Our stuff, the alterhuman knowledge, is truly all over the place sometimes. We are still fighting the folks who treat kin as not a identity but silly roleplay aesthetic. We are still arguing against those that think therian is only the existing animal currently on earth (also, human are animals too, did these people know that?). We are still dealing with so much, ah, what's the word, "missing stair" cases. There is also stuff like the confined idea of what dragons are. The constant idea that everything is nonhuman or otherkin only. We even still deal with those that disagree with plural folks who don't "abide" by some guideline made by folks that observe it from outside perspective. I could go on and on and on.

Do people remember that spiritual, singular kintype/theriotype, everything has to be involuntary, used to be a thing? A default setting? Do people know? I like the Chinese version better of this idiom, but the sentiment is better translate this way, how the tables had turned.

It's hard to get everyone in the same place and talk. Even if we band together, we are still just a pocket of community. There will be those that refuse to, or simply couldn't interact with elsewhere than their one space. I had at times think of those that are less than nice while holing up in their own little club, with ideology that screams invalidating and hurtful towards others (like for example, treating fictionfolk as KFF) as "frogs at the bottom of the well", a Chinese idiom that refers to people who has narrow perspective and unaware of the limitation of their own experience.

I don't know how we can overcome this. Sometimes people need to sit back, and just check back, read around, do some research. There are others like us, there are more folks other than us. We are all unique, but it doesn't mean we live in isolation, certainly not amongst our fellow alterhuman community members.

[alchemistc]

Help, I'm so confused. How can it be, that shippers and antis have such a wildly different perception of the 911 daddy issue szene? I don’t watch the show, just saw some gifs of it, but the discours my dash provides from both sides is astonishing. Wtf is happening? (And for context: even if I'm not in the fandom, I have read Buddie and BuckTommy fics and like both ships.)

Honestly I'm incredibly new to this fandom so I can't really do a deep dive, but from experience in fandom dating back to like, the late nineties, I can tell you there is always, always a section of fandom that wraps themselves in fanon and ties their entire identity into making their own preferences canon.

I have zero problems with the idea of b*ddie. I think it definitely has its merits, and through a certain lens it makes sense. It's not what drew me in and so far there hasn't been a particular fic or take that calls to me, but that's a me thing and there's nothing wrong with having preferences.

What it comes down to is a purposeful misunderstanding of the context given - Buck is into sex, Tommy is clearly into sex, they are into each other and they are exploring that with healthy communication ahead of time by having a flirt about it. That's it. That's all that scene was. It showed us that Buck and Tommy meet each other where they're at and enjoy each other's company and wanna fuck nasty.

But as it ALWAYS goes in the minds of shippers/antis who have wrapped their identities in 'this HAS to be canon or there is something intrinsically wrong with the world and I'm going to make it everyone's problem's (which is NOT ALL SHIPPERS, MIND YOU, THESE GUYS ARE JUST THE LOUD ONES) - they aren't making a genuine connection with either the source material or the character arc. I could tell you twenty different ways off the top of my head that that particular scene could make for EXCELLENT b*ddie content but that's absolutely not the way the antis are coming at it - it's a personal insult to them that they didn't get their way so instead of feeding that into beautiful fanon they've made some bonkers banana wild exclamations about moral superiority.

This is not new. This is exactly how the (small but loud) subsect of shippers/antis has always operated. It's failed media literacy and making it personal when the reality is that this is currently the story the writers want to tell. Antis operate in an echo chamber. It's a bad faith argument (I hesitate to use that word because it's more like proselytizing) based on personal preference.

If bucktommy ends up being a flash in the pan, I will still have enjoyed the dynamic it brought. If Bucks storyline continues on a different trajectory that I don't particularly care for, I can either fade from fandom or dig in with canon divergence and be happy with that.

To answer your actual question though, which is how the two ends of the spectrum have such wildly different readings on the Daddy scene: everyone is looking at this through their own lens of experience/understanding, so of course, of course people who ship Buck and Tommy are delighted, and of course (some) b*ddie shippers don't enjoy it.

There's an element of maturity levels to it that I don't really feel like digging too deep into, as well, but lets be real: the infantalizing of Buck is a big part of the 'ick' we're seeing, the kinning/stanning going too far.

It's the taking it personal bit that's causing all the discourse. It'll fade, it always does, until there's another thing to clutch pearls about. It's just noise. It sucks, but at the end of the day this is a fictional TV show about first responders that is for the most part very Unserious™️ and these are all fictional characters that people from different walks of life are seeing themselves in.

And at the end of the day, there are creative outlets that allow you to change whatever the hell you want about canon if you aren't jiving with it - fanon exists for a reason.

I'll just be over here in my corner enjoying two grown ass men being so down bad for each other they're a little stupid about it.