#i felt like i was writing a fable or something lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obutsuwrites · 4 years ago

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a single feather (tengu!hawks x f!reader)

tumblr request: Hi! I just read your new story on ao3 and it was amazing!!! Your writing style is really fantastic and I saw your requests were open. Could I request Yandere Hawks x fem Reader? Bonus points if it’s also NSFW but it doesn’t have to be, I just really enjoyed your take on yandere Katsuki and was curious to see how you’d approach a yandere hawks. Thanks so much for your time!

summary: “G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

“Don’t be like that, little bird. I’m a kami, shouldn’t you be falling at my feet?” Keigo asked, his tone casual. His lack of concern or formality was alarming. No one had spoken to the princess in such a way. Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed his nonchalant nature, but now -- in her darkened room -- it was a threat. xxx basically a really self-indulgent, kinda researched feudal!au with tengu!hawks bc he rlly do got me feelin sum typa way 😳

word count: 6,209

warnings: yandere elements, dubcon, stalking, loss of virginity, choking, possessive behavior

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

my ask box is still open 4 requests~!

glossary:

Tokin - a traditional or fictional small black box worn on the foreheads of Yamabushi – practitioners of Shugendō – or Tengu, dangerous yet protective spirits of the mountains and forests from the Japanese mythology

Yuigesa - pompom stash worn by Yamabushi

Yamabushi - Japanese mountain ascetic hermits

Shoji - door, window or room divider used in traditional Japanese architecture, consisting of translucent (or transparent) sheets on a lattice frame

Kami - are the spirits, phenomena or "holy powers" that are venerated in the religion of Shinto

Fundoshi - traditional Japanese undergarment for adult males, made from a length of cotton

lil special author's note: from what i've been able to read, kami/tengu are really similar?? but here obviously they're two different things v.v so hawks bein a lil misleading lmao

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It was midnight and the princess had retired to her chambers. Her plush mattress and soft covers were simply too inviting. She had collapsed into bed and dove into a deep slumber. Quiet snores echoed through the obnoxiously large bedroom. It hadn’t been her choice to have such a spacious room… but it was never her choice. The princess of the kingdom was merely a figurehead. A token of the nobility. Seen in public, but never heard. Her voice was reserved for servants and other royalty behind closed doors.

‘As a lady should,’ her mother would say. ‘Your breath isn’t worth the common folk.’

The princess argued, ‘But mom, the servants… they are common folk. It’s no different!’

Her mother’s face scrunched into a sour expression, as if she ate a lemon. Under other circumstances, her expression would have been humorous, but the empress was a severe woman. A serious woman of royal blood and polite nature.

‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’

That had ended their discussion. Yokai -- as the princess knew -- were spirits and demons that inhabited the untamed land beyond their kingdom. They preferred the eternal darkness of dense forest. A perfect habitat for such apparitions. She had never seen one, of course, but the princess learned of their many forms from maids. Fantastical tales of wild beast men with protruding horns and unkempt hair; fox-like spirits that brought good fortune, but possessed a mischievous side, and cat yokai that roamed the mountains, often transforming into humans. However, there was one yokai that caught the princess’ attention.

The tengu; a dangerous spirit of the forest. A yokai that possessed the talons and wings of a bird, but the celestial beauty of man. Tengu wandered mountains and forests as the land’s protector. Their wings were said to expand as wide as the sun. They donned the traditional dress of a yamabushi, adorned with a tokin and yuigesa. Tengu were accompanied by strong gusts of wind generated by a magical feather fan. Sometimes, as the princess learned, tengu instead carried a pewter staff. Their approach could be told by the jingle of their pewter staff and currents of wind that almost magically appeared. Some servants even told of handsome tengu. Tengu that charmed and bewitched with their allure. Mischievous and curious.

In truth, the princess yearned to escape the frigid confines of the castle, and explore the forest. She wanted -- wished -- to stumble upon a tengu. She wanted to feel their fabled soft feathers under her fingertips, to taste the crisp air they produced. The princess had no qualms with finding a hideous tengu with a beak, as the maids told her, tengu with beaks were more common. They were also more monstrous. Portrayed as wild birds of prey that lured young women into their nests for unspeakable acts. Eventually, the young women would return… but they were different. Blind. Insane. Soiled.

These stories did not deter her. The princess knew better. She knew such stories were only regurgitated as a means to frighten her. Tales meant for cheap scares of common folk. She was no common folk; she was nobility.

The woman began to drool into her dreamless sleep, too blissfully unaware of the winged beast hovering outside her window. A curious, crimson feathered tengu that was drawn by the scent of royal blood. He inhaled deeply; the princess’ scent mixed with the humid summer air in harmony. Known as Keigo, the yokai’s expansive wings flapped violently, and left shivers of feathers that fell gently like petals. Keigo wondered what she looked like; was she clothed in a thin nightgown or nothing at all? Keigo preferred the latter and nodded his head in solitary agreement. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it? ‘Her snores could wake the dead… ’ He chuckled at the thought; a woman of her nobility never spoke out of turn -- seen but not heard -- and yet this woman could produce a symphony of noise in her sleep.

“What other noises do you make, little bird?”

Slowly, Keigo unlatched the princess’ window and crept into her quarters. The room wasn’t remarkable, but her scent was etched into every corner. A patchwork of divinity itself. He wanted to bury himself within the fragrance, bury himself within… her. Curious golden eyes searched the darkened room for the princess’ sleeping form, finally resting upon a human-shaped mound. She looked so innocent. So unaware of the tengu’s presence. He could snatch her right now and be within the forest by daybreak, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t like the beastly oni. ‘No,’ Keigo decided, ‘I’ll simply watch over her.’ Keigo watched as the princess shifted in her sleep and caught a glimpse of her chest. Ample and supple. Absolutely begging to be touched and conquered. He ran a cold hand down the woman’s exposed flesh and thought, ‘I should at least take a trophy. ’ A means to memorialize her existence.

The tengu detached himself from the woman and began his search. He wanted a garment, something personal -- something private to her. Keigo remembered that mortals kept such clothing hidden away in drawers. Like treasure. As quietly as he could manage, Keigo rummaged through exquisite textiles and cloth, until he palmed satin material. Curious, Keigo grabbed the garment and examined it. A pair of panties. He brought the undergarment to his nose and inhaled. Fresh linen, welcoming and clean. The tengu would have preferred a pair with the maiden’s carnal scent, but even possessing something that was so close to her body was a gift. It was meant for him, Keigo decided. Stuffing the panties into his robe, Keigo allowed himself a final look at the woman before quietly flying off.

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She awoke, drowsy and exhausted, as if sleep had evaded her. The princess stretched and exhaled a soft yawn. Morning light streamed through the woman’s only open window. Wait. Open window? The princess had no memory of opening her window before bed. In fact, she had been too exhausted the night before to even take off her slippers. She had collapsed into bed in a weary state and fell promptly to sleep.

‘This is odd. So very odd,’ the woman thought and closed the window. She had been awfully weary, perhaps she opened it and had forgotten? It was possible, but the princess still felt perturbed and began a rudimentary inspection around her chambers. Nothing seemed out of place, until she happened upon a single crimson feather that appeared within her dresser. It was long, far too long to be a bird. The feather was unlike anything the woman had seen in her garden.

Tucking the feather away, the princess slowly started to get dressed. She savored this time in the morning. It was her simple slice of heaven. Her escape from prying eyes… and her mother. This was the princess’ only ritual that wasn’t tainted by maids and royal duties. It was a situation she had insisted upon and insisted upon until her mother eventually relented. She was an adult -- the sole heir -- and had no need for maids to dress her anymore. It had been convenient and almost fun as a child, but now as a young maiden, the task seemed almost inappropriate for hired help. The woman reasoned that their time could be spent elsewhere. This was her mother’s weak spot; the empress detested a lack of work ethic. She reasoned it was an absence of pride in one’s work. The maiden believed this to be the very reason for the garden.

The garden was quaint. A private sanctuary away from inquisitive eyes and lurking mothers. A place to call her own. This was a space not yet invaded by her controlling mother or by intrusive maids. Serenity in every meaning of the word. Plants flourished there; the modest terrace was alive with flowers and greenery. She was permitted this piece of serenity if she toiled in the earth. Hands smeared with dirt and sweat trickling down her brow. Such hard work earned her seeds and decorations for the princess’ little terrace. Fairy lights, statues, and decorative pebbles. The princess cherished every addition.

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She sat in the lively terrace, hands tired and dirty. The peculiar feather plagued her mind throughout the day, until finally, the woman decided she would rid herself of such compulsive thought. Toiling in the earth allowed her mind to wander beyond it. Idle hands were the devil’s work, as her mother would say.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky and beat down upon her back. The silk fabric of her summer kimono stuck to the maiden’s back like tree sap. Impossibly thick. The princess felt exhausted and unbearably hot, but busy work kept her thoughts at ease, and away from the stark reality of a midnight visitor. She had wrestled with the thought. How could an animal -- a beast -- flutter into her room, only to escape and leave behind a single feather? What bird could manipulate a latch? Originally, the woman settled on the possibility of a trained eagle being her intruder… but the idea was preposterous. Insane. Unlikely. The empress had no mortal enemies. Not a living soul was capable of such a feat, no commoner had reason. Her mother’s public demeanor was a farce. Kind. Generous. Loving. Traits she lacked in private, behind pristine castle doors.

Unbeknownst to her, on a nearby towering tree, sat a red-tailed hawk. Golden, predatory eyes were trained on the princess; unmoving and calculating.

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Throughout the day, the princess couldn’t escape the feeling of being watched. Like a lab rat. The thought was preposterous. The castle walls were far too great for peering eyes. No pervert could spy on her, and yet, she felt like this. This tightness in her chest that had appeared once she began to toil within the garden. It was so suffocating -- so frightening -- the princess decided to abandon any cultivation for the day. Instead, the princess focused on her studies. Academic topics specially suited for a “maiden of her stature,” as her mother would say. Subjects included etiquette, housewifely duties, mathematics, language, and archery. Archery, of course, was the maiden’s suggestion. A term the empress begrudgingly obliged. If a woman couldn’t protect herself, what sort of woman was she?

The bow fit neatly in her callused hands. Rough palms were earned from hard work and determination. Hands “unbecoming of a noble,” the empress would chide. As if it mattered. The princess was of age, but still had no suitors. No man of nobility had even considered her as a wife. She was never seen in public enough for such courtship. The castle was her home and her prison.

An arrow flew through the air, hitting its target. Archery was simply another means of keeping idle hands busy. Nothing more, nothing less. The woman felt safer within the confines of the castle. She didn’t feel the carnivorous eyes that burned into her body like hot coals. Perhaps this was all caused by the feather. It’s discovery caused her mind to wander with possibilities until her thoughts landed on something irrational: a tengu.

The thought had crept into the back of her skull and taken up residency like a canker sore. Unrelenting and impossible to ignore. It only grew in size as the day continued, until the idea was all she could muster. A large part of the princess was excited by such a discovery, but a smaller, weaker aspect dreaded the possibility. Her room wasn’t a forest and the maiden didn’t require protection, which left only a simple reality; the tengu was attracted to her. The empress’ previous words now echoed, ‘A woman of noble birth only attracts scoundrels and yokai.’ Was this true? If it was, no maid gossiped about it. It was unlikely shrill midwives could keep such a juicy secret to themselves, the princess reasoned. She prayed it was true a crimson feathered tengu had visited her. She didn’t mind if the tengu wasn’t handsome and instead had the face of a bird. She merely wanted the feather to have significance. It should, at least.

However, the maiden did wonder if the prying eyes were that of a tengu. They could shape-shift -- she only knew from castle gossip -- but they preferred a more mortal form. Imposing wings and a yamabushi’s robe, sometimes, tengu would wear a red mask with a long nose. This was less common now. Instead, such a mask existed for festivals and revelry. An accessory taken by man. Maybe the tengu had taken the shape of a bird. They were, after all, protective yokai of the forest. A bird’s eye view of the land seemed the most logical… but if it was a tengu, why did she feel so uneasy? Why did her skin prickle and become so sensitive?

She was familiar with stories of tengu that were renegades. Yokai -- like oni -- that preferred mortal desires. The mortal sin of flesh. It was a topic that was taboo to the princess. Courtship wasn’t a necessary knowledge. It was more useful of her time to learn household responsibilities. How to hold a babe. How to preserve fruits. What linens were best for summer months. Nothing truly of value beyond mathematics and archery. The prospect of a tengu that wanted her for carnal reasons left a horrid taste in her mouth and her knees weak. It was both thrilling and frightening.

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Days melted into one another, but the princess couldn’t purge the feeling of being watched. Her garden was no longer a sanctuary. It was crypt; suffocating and miserable. Because of this, she opted to stay inside and attend to her studies. Busy work that kept prying eyes at bay. The castle walls now provided protection from the rotten anxiety decaying her gut. Caring for plants used to be a welcome chore; an activity that broke up the monotony of royal life. Instead, the fresh air and bright sun only brought a sense of dread the princess couldn’t escape. It sat in her gut like a stone. Heavy with burden.

She experimented with venturing out during different times of day. Neither the cool morning nor the starless evening cure her. Everyday was the same, except for her lack of gardening. Servants took note and tried to coax the princess into the terrace, but she held fast in her fear. It was becoming all consuming. A black hole even the empress noticed.

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“You insisted on this ridiculous hobby, and yet, you won’t be appreciative?” Cold, hard eyes observed the woman, waiting for a response. Her mother’s eyes never quite held any warmth of familiar love. It was an aspect the princess was accustomed to.

The princess, playing with the hem of her kimono responded, “I… Of course I appreciate it, Your Majesty.”

“Well then, why don’t you tend to it, little bug?”

She winced at the epithet. It was an embarrassing and old name that was born of the maiden’s interest in plants. Nothing more than an insult veiled as a loving moniker. The name brought forth memories of childhood. Memories of learning cruelty.

“It’s been too hot lately, Your Majesty. My kimono sticks to my back and it’s very unbecoming.” Picking her words carefully would be the key here. She knew the vicious nature her mother carried. A stick to beat others down into submission; into the dirt.

Satisfied, or perhaps finally disinterested, the empress curtly nodded and continued her stroll around the castle grounds. The lack of her mother’s love didn’t bother her anymore. She was the empress. Nobility that commanded -- demanded -- respect.

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The day had transformed into night. Humid summer air that melted into a brisk evening. Typically, twilight was the perfect time for tending to her garden, but the princess hadn’t set foot within her sanctuary. She sat directly in front of the shoji that led to the terrace, timid hands fumbling with the hem of her kimono. It was a nervous habit that followed from childhood.

‘Should I try again? ’ Thick saliva began to pool within the maiden’s mouth. A bundle of anxiety coiled within the pit of her stomach; like a hot brand. Truth be told, she wanted to run and hide further within the castle. The princess’ bed was her sanctuary now.

‘...but it’s only a feeling. Mother wouldn’t want me to be such a child. ’ Swallowing the saliva, the woman stood up and meekly slid open the door.

Sticky, heavy air stuck to her lungs. Her chest rapidly rose and fell; the princess desperate to not suffocate. It was a starless night. An inky blackness that threatened to swallow the princess whole. The evening was darker than usual, which allowed dread to further creep into her body. Instinctual goosebumps decorated her arms as she slinked towards a bed of flowers. The floral scent was almost nauseating. Too overpowering and fragrant.

Shaky knees knelt into the earth and trembling hands began to pull at weeds. Her lack of care supported an invasion within her garden. It was no longer a garden of love. Now, the terrace sat abandoned and overrun. Stubborn weeds were plucked and tossed aside. The princess’ hands ached and were caked in dirt. Not becoming a of woman. Of a princess. But the woman lacked care. She didn’t want to live in fear of her only outlet. Her only safe haven from her mother and from the castle servants.

Tears gathered at the corner of the maiden’s eyes as she worked. Her disdain and anxiety had become tangible. She brought a dirt crusted finger to her eye and wiped away the salty liquid. Crying was a sign of weakness. It was a saying the empress had drilled into the princess since birth. Crying wasn’t allowed for nobility. The woman needed to be strong and feminine; not a blubbering child. Gradually, the feeling of being watched dissipated and was instead replaced by a feeling of inadequacy and misery.

Atop a neighboring tree within the terrace sat a red-tailed hawk. Beautiful and majestic. The bird watched the woman below. It cocked it’s head in interest. Despite his watchful gaze, the tengu known as Keigo hadn’t seen the princess cry before. The action seemed almost foreign to her, as if she had never cried before. Her chest didn’t heave and no sound emitted from her. Instead, the maiden sat on her knees and silently toiled. This lack of passion angered Keigo in a way. He wanted to see the woman in all her entirety. He wanted to witness her anger. Her sadness. Her wailing. A part of him would envision her beneath him, begging him with tears in her eyes. It was a sick pleasure, really. Keigo wanted to be disgusted by this desire, but it was a thought that dug its heels in, refusing to leave. He was left with the only option; to embrace it.

Keigo continued to watch the quiet sobbing until he grew bored. Until an idea surfaced. He should try to comfort her, shouldn’t he?

‘I want to touch her. I want to feel her warmth. I want to feel her writhe underneath me,’ the tengu thought as he gently fluttered to the ground. Keigo didn’t want to approach her as a man. He knew mortals weren’t stupid; she would question why a strange man with golden eyes suddenly appeared within her castle. ‘I want you to love me. ’

Softly, the tengu made his way towards the princess. Keigo’s footfalls were ignored by the maiden until he rubbed a wing against her. Startled, she released a quiet yelp and looked at the creature. The bird was small for a hawk and looked to be the runt. An unfortunate bird that had been given the same lot in life as herself. The princess regained her composure and reached out, touching the little bird.

“You scared me! Are you lonely, little birdie?” She asked, trying to stifle a giggle. Being frightened by such a small thing was comedic in a way. Deep inside, the bird and it’s tiny, insignificant body reminded the woman of herself. Perhaps this creature had been the prying eyes? ‘It was so silly of me to worry,’ the princess thought as she petted the bird.

The hawk released a low growl, as if the sound came from the very back of their throat. It reminded the princess of a cat’s purr. A sound only produced from trust and contentment. Soft lips curled into an insignificant smile. Her lips felt tense and unfamiliar with the action; smiling wasn’t common within the castle. The empress saw it as fictitious and unnecessary.

‘You can express pleasantries through your words. A noble woman doesn’t need to stoop down to a commoner.’

She reasoned the bird couldn’t be more than a young babe; the runt of a litter. ‘Are its wings hurt? Is the mother looking for..? ’ Before the princess could finish her thought, the bird gently pecked at her palm. Almost like a warning. The feeling of being watched had subsided; the princess was confident that her intruder was a lonely baby hawk. She hadn’t seen such a bird before. Hawks weren’t common in her kingdom and the woman was unsure the creature could fly. If the bird couldn’t fly, surely she should nurse it to health and then release it. The woman had never raised a dog before, much less a hawk, but it’s kindness proved too powerful.

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The princess managed to smuggle the hawk into her room. The operation had required bribing maids, but ‘business deals are important and are to be honored,’ as her mother would say. It wasn’t bribing; she was merely asking for a service and in turn, the maids were paid. ‘A simple transaction,’ she told herself.

Currently, the hawk was cuddled against the woman. She had made several attempts to leave, but the creature would loudly squawk like a threat. The princess knew her mother would at best be displeased -- and at worst -- demand the bird be confiscated. No animal was worthy of a princess. No creature was bred with the same noble blood. The empress deemed animals unworthy of her daughter’s company. ‘To rule, you must have conviction and a barn animal would only dirty you.’ Remembering her words only caused the woman to flinch. Even the ghost of her words carried severity and coldness.

Keigo was growing annoyed. Yes, it was blissful to be smothered by this woman, but he desired more. His heart grew black with a carnal want that only oni experienced. He wanted to defile her in the worst way. He wanted to feel the princess squirm underneath him, begging him in ecstasy. Naturally, the mind of a tengu is always several steps ahead of a mortal. A plan began to form; once she retired to bed, Keigo would reveal himself, explain he was a kami and had selected her for his divine touch. The tengu knew that even among nobility, the visit of a kami was prized. It was an offer the princess couldn’t -- wouldn’t refuse. Keigo ruffled his feathers in anticipation.

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The night was still and silent, except for a slight breeze that blew through an open window. The princess had retired to sleep, but decided to keep her window open for the little bird. Keigo sat atop the windowsill and watched her sleeping form. He noted how small she was; an impossibly tiny body dwarfed by a mattress decorated in ornate blankets and pillows. This form allowed for the tengu to watch the princess undress. Her body was delicate and without blemish. A part of Keigo felt excited by this; a perfect body he could ruin. He would claim her and defile her.

With a quick pop, and a patch of black smoke, the bird was no more. In place sat a young man with ash blonde hair and golden eyes. His features were sharp and almost avian like, but his expression was laid-back and carefree. He wore the traditional garb of a yamabushi, complete with a tokin. He was a handsome man, but carried the dark intentions of a predator. Yellow orbs that burned with want.

Keigo slowly drifted towards the princess, leaving red feathers in his wake. He watched with interest as she tossed in bed. So blissful. So blissfully unaware of him. Unable to resist any further, the tengu placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She was soft -- malleable -- and smelled of perfume. Like a garden.

The princess awoke suddenly from the action and came face-to-face with the tengu. By the moonlight, she couldn’t make out his features, but knew the shape was that of a man. Shock ignited in her eyes and the princess instinctively opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She felt suffocated by the intruder. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed how bizarre the man’s silhouette was. He stood of average height, but it looked as if the man had hidden an object behind his back. An object that resembled the wings of a bird.

Finally, a whimper escaped the woman. A small and pathetic sound that aroused the tengu. Before the princess could helpless babble, Keigo spoke, “Sorry if I scared you! Wasn’t my intention, but I’m Keigo.” A lop-sided grin found its way onto his thin lips. The smile did little to quell the fear in the woman’s gut.

“G-g-get out!” Her words sounded strangled and afraid. The princess sat up and frantically scooted away from the strange man. ‘She’s so cute, scared like this.’

She wondered how long the man had been watching her. Was he the source of the crimson feather? Was this not a man, but an oni? A pit formed in her chest, heavy with dread and fright.

The princess’ heart hammered in her chest like a drum. Too loud and too thunderous to ignore.

“A k-kami..? I -- you visited me several nights ago, didn’t you?” She desperately wanted to believe the man. Any other possibility was horrific. She squinted in the dark and noticed the sharp features he possessed; blonde hair illustrated in the moonlight and yellow eyes that seemed to glow.

The tengu laughed. It was soft and gentle, the pure opposite of the roaring cackle she was accustomed to.

“I wanted you to have somethin’ to remember me by, little birdie. It’s flattering how close you keep it.” It excited Keigo that the young maiden had kept the feather. Especially because she kept the feather so close, buried underneath her kimono, right atop her breast. He hoped her breasts were as soft as her cheek.

Plump cheeks flushed with pink. She hated being teased. It was one of the few social interactions her mother was capable of, but it always left a sour taste in the woman’s mouth.

“How… how do I know you’re a kami? You could simply be a convincing oni, a pretender.”

His smile faltered. “You don’t trust me? That’s okay, little birdie. I’ll take my leave,” Keigo replied. Leaving wasn’t a part of his plan, it was merely a distraction from the bewitching magic he cast. A glamour that would enlighten the princess to desires held deep within her heart.

The princess didn’t want him to leave; it was improper to turn away a guest. Compelled, a delicate hand grabbed Keigo’s robe. It was tightly woven material, similar to the great textiles within the castle.

“Stay,” she begged, “please stay. I didn’t mean…”

Keigo placed a large hand atop the crown of her head and stroked. The maiden leaned into the touch, it was unlike any sensation she had experienced within the castle. It wasn’t the uncaring, technical touch of a wet nurse, but the tender touch of a lover. Warmth began to bloom in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that was foreign, but welcomed. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the tengu’s touch.

The woman patted the empty spot next to her. She hoped the winged man would slide into bed and perhaps hold her. Simply hold her and their body heat mixed together in the summer air. A small, childish part of the princess desired to touch the man’s wings. If they were as soft as the feather, they must feel like heaven. ‘He’s divinity in every sense of the word.’

Silently, Keigo slid into bed beside the princess, his wings ruffling against her soft skin. He shivered from the sensation. Tingly and electric. Keigo draped an arm around her and pulled the princess closer. He needed to hear her heartbeat and feel the blood coursing under her skin. The maiden’s floral scent was overpowering now; the smell fresh and heavenly. The woman buried herself into the tengu’s robe. His body was warm, almost hot. A summer heat draped in a man. He smelled of the earth and pine. It was a scent that the woman found comforting.

“Eager little bird,” Keigo joked, his hand now drifting down her form. He was desperate to memorize the soft landscape of her body. She was a treat to be savored. “Gonna touch you and make you feel good, okay little birdie?”Keigo grabbed the princess through her nightgown, her breast fitting perfectly within his palm, as if she was made for him. Only one thought came to Keigo’s mind: ‘This is mine. She is mine.’ It was uncommon for the tengu to feel so territorial -- so protective, but she was giving herself to him, afterall.

He palmed the woman through her nightgown, eliciting a quiet moan. Keigo had to strain to hear it; she tried to stifle the sound. It was unnatural and embarrassing. She had never been touched like this before, much less by a kami.

“Don’t be so shy.” Keigo continued to caress and massage her breast, his other hand wandering down his lover’s nightgown. His hand stopped at the hem of her gown, sliding up the material until it was bunched around her waist. The princess shivered from the cool air, and from a foreign feeling of shame. A part of her wanted to push the winged man away and lock herself in a neighboring bathroom until guards arrived, but another insatiable piece wanted the kami to take her maidenhood right now. Her body burned with an undeniable passion that only Keigo could extinguish.

Mewls of want penetrated the night air as the tengu circled a finger around her sensitive lips, the warmth of his touch separated only by satin panties. The cloth -- saturated with her juices -- would be Keigo’s prize. Another memento of the woman, of his lover. Her squirming underneath him only cemented that fact.

Greedy, trembling hands reached for Keigo; needy for his body to be pressed against hers. She slid a hand underneath his robe, and traveled down his body, stopping at his waist. Pleasing a man was never a topic of discussion in the princess’ studies. The maiden’s hands glided under Keigo’s fundoshi. His member stood proud and leaking pre-cum, unsure and nervous, she began to rub his leaking head. A groan rumbled from deep within Keigo’s chest, like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t stop, little bird,” Keigo murmured, the tengu too enamored from the woman’s touch. He had dreamed of this for several nights, but finally, her soft hands were working his manhood. She stroked down his length, clumsy and inexperienced. The tengu was growling now; noises guttural and rough. Like a wild beast set free.

Encouraged by her touch, he tore her undergarment, allowing for proper access to her nether region. Roughly, Keigo parted the woman’s lips apart and a calloused thumb began to rub her now swollen clit. Under normal circumstances, the princess would have recoiled from such brazen action; she was taught a man should never tear a royal’s garment. It was an act perpetrated by oni and men of lesser nobility, but this man wasn’t of lesser nobility. He was a kami. A god.

Golden, hungry eyes looked down at her; like a wolf appraising meat. Predatory and insatiable. An idea formed within his mind and the tengu detached himself from the princess. She released a whine, her features twisted in a pout. A little brat denied subsistence.

“Touch me,” she requested. Her tone was demanding. It was more of a command than a request. Her hands felt empty and useless, the maiden convinced her only purpose now was to please the kami.

Keigo positioned himself at her entrance and commanded, “Lay down, let me pleasure you.” His words were like velvet, his voice like nirvana. Sickeningly sweet and light. With hesitation, the woman laid down, her cunt in full view of the tengu. She felt another pang of embarrassment. Even wet nurses hadn’t seen her exposed like this. Her instincts screamed to cover up and to run away, but the allure of Keigo proved too much.

A single finger was harshly jammed into her slick core as Keigo’s mouth engulfed her mound. His hot tongue swirled around in her cunt, learning every sensitive spot. His wide finger sent a shock of pain up the maiden’s body, but the sensation was soon replaced by warmth that spread between her thighs. He pumped into her, scissoring and stretching her. Preparing her for him. His teeth grazed against her delicate clit, evoking a wanton moan. Her legs trembled as Keigo shoved another finger into her wetness. She felt full -- whole -- with the tengu’s fingers inside. A thumb prodded her clit again, gently rubbing the nub. The red-hot coil within her center made the maiden feel as if she would burst, the sensation of an orgasm building. Sounds of squelching and a river of moans flowed from her.

The tengu brought his face up to her, fingers wet with her arousal.

“Little birdie all ready for my cock, huh?” Keigo stood up and quickly disrobed. His lean frame vibrating from excitement. In the moonlight, the princess could make out the sculpted body Keigo possessed. The body befitting of a kami. He crawled over her body and positioned his cock up against her lips. Slowly, savoring the moment, Keigo pushed into the woman. His cock stretched her, far more than his fingers. Sensitive, wet walls clasped around him. Her body was desperate to swallow his member whole. The tengu crammed his soaked fingers into his lover’s mouth, muffling her moans. “Don’t want you too loud, little birdie.”

She wondered if this was a normal part of lovemaking, but obliged the tengu and sucked on his fingers. Lewd sounds erupted from Keigo, along with a string of swears. The princess hadn’t heard such depravity before, but Keigo’s thick cock was too distracting. He sped up, provoked by the sucking of his fingers. His balls slapped against her ass at a feverish pace. Keigo’s strokes were no longer slow and delicate, but harsh and starving. A man -- a beast -- possessed. The force of his strokes almost hurt and his fingers were jammed to almost the back of her throat.

“Pl-please stop,” the maiden slurred, spit trailing down her chin. Keigo had to strain to hear her, but decided to partially accommodate. He removed the saliva coated fingers, leaving her to gup down chestfuls of air. Instead, strong hands clasped around her delicate neck. A neck that had only known the pleasures of cotton or satin. His touch around her neck was the opposite of the tenderness she had known before; his touch now felt possessive and dark. An aura of blackness that threatened to consume her. Keigo’s grip tightened, along with his feverish pace. The princess’ hips now began to ache underneath him.

The coil in her stomach reached its peak; a feeling of relief washed over her. The maiden felt grounded, more aware, less hazy. She finally noticed the dangerous shine in the tengu’s yellow eyes, which sent a deathly chill down her body, leaving goosebumps. She no longer wanted this. She no longer wanted him. The woman began to squirm underneath the tengu, defaulting to her original fear. Realizing the turn of her nature, Keigo released a final pump into her soaking cunt. A deep growl sounded from his chest, this time the sound no longer velvet and soft. The sound of a predator. As he climaxed, Keigo’s grip around her worsened. The maiden feeling out of breath. Asphyxiated. She beat against his chest, her vision becoming a blurry mess of black spots and dots.

Keigo’s large hands fell from her neck and the princess swallowed greedy gulps of air. ‘She looks so beautiful like this,’ the tengu thought, ‘sweaty and broken beneath me.’ His seed began to leak out of her, staining her plush thighs. The sensation made her feel dirty, wrong, used.

“L-l-leave.”

Yellow eyes bore into her features, memorizing every inch. A carefree grin plastered on the tengu’s handsome face.

“...but you’re mine now, little birdie.”

#hawks x reader #yandere hawks #yandere bnha #keigo x reader #smut

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bluntforcefem · 3 years ago

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hi i’ve got more of that bug fables roleswap au for people to peruse! this time, it’s largely focused on some side characters, some of which was a collaboration between me and my beloved friend @behold-a-bastard-in-this-house ! go check him out :-)

as always, under the cut is spoilers for the entirety of bug fables! similarly, this covers similar themes to what’s covered in bug fables, so if any of those bug you, take care of yourself!

the swaps covered here are: maki & kina swapping with zasp & mothiva, and general fuff swapping with vanessa! as with the central three protagonists, it gets a little more funky from there, in the nature of telling a fun and fresh story AND preserving major & important parts of their original personalities and backstories!

ZASP & MOTHIVA AS MAKI & KINA

specifically here, zasp is maki; acting as elizant ii’s royal blade and going out on top secret missions for her. the layers i particularly like here are seen in canon: when asked about the wasps, zasp refers to them as “pests,” and for reasons currently unknown (but likely related to him having damaged antennae, etc.) he isn’t affected by the wasp king’s crown at all! the trust elizant ii has in him extends past the possibility of him being controlled or betraying her, which i VERY much like as a general (hand waves) background theme

the reason why i considered this swap to begin with was because mothiva and kina kinda reminded me of each other! and in a way, so did kina & zasp, but i felt this particular swap was more fun. i think mothiva keeps her idol status, here; most of the time she’s complaining about how zasp can’t accompany her as a body guard to her shows anymore, or about how he keeps leaving her behind (”a top secret mission would be GREAT for exposure!!” which is largely why she doesn’t end up going with him, lmao)

i also think that both of them are significantly further in their character development than they are in canon, though? mostly because: without zasp as her right hand and supporter all the time, mothiva has to actually deal with anyone who rejects her personally, and The Queen Herself supporting her is very good for her ego already! meanwhile zasp actually has a healthy level of seperation from mothiva and can foster that relationship without it fully starting from somewhere parasocial, lmao. i simply like this for them a lot!

MAKI & KINA AS ZASP & MOTHIVA

this one’s a little bit of a (handwaves) stretch of the canon role, so stick with me here!

i think maki & kina are more experienced explorers who have been trying at every step of the way to find the artifacts, and kina (and by extension maki) are more than a little annoyed that team snakemouth keeps getting to all of them first! i think maki largely thinks that they shouldn’t be out there to begin with - leif was BANNED from exploration for a REASON, after all, even if he IS proving efficient at artifact collection, and kina is annoyed that her and her brother aren’t getting the recognition they deserve!

this leads to the same threads you see in canon: maki & kina attempt to interfere at golden hills, stating that team snakemouth isn’t strong enough to take on whatever’s at the top of the hills, and that they’re destined to fail. this is then followed by the two interrupting in the termite kingdom - the queen is right there, after all! if they can prove that team snakemouth isn’t strong enough to defeat them, then they’ll be able to prove themselves and go after the artifacts themselves, even if this is jeopardizing bugaria.

a key difference here is that maki & kina actually regret their actions in termite kingdom! what you see there is a personal apology to the queen and an acknowledgement of what could’ve happened after they realize - no public apology to team snakemouth though, haha, outside of maki pulling them aside later.

maki saves kabbu from a near death experience :that one confetti discord emoji:

THE FUFF & VANESSA SWAP

once again a big thank you to my friend fall for being the huge brained genius behind this swap!!

the conceit of this swap is that general fuff manages to escape the wasp king’s control from injuries sustained in a long-ago battle, while vanessa doesn’t. she starts acting as a false figurehead leader to the wasps, and has a similar battle gimmick to ultimax, in which she is always hiding behind her troops! (in canon, she even says that she’s never done combat for her kingdom - something that is still very true here!)

meanwhile, fuff is locked up - his focus is mainly on strategy, too, and while he’s brilliant at it, he has no people to lead, no army to plan around. while he could probably fight the capture, he doesn’t actually want to hurt his soldiers - we are a STRONG believer in actual good leader fuff when not mind controlled here! he manages to steal the flame brooch before he’s captured, though, hoping to use it to take down the king; although this fails, the king doesn’t realize he’s stolen it, and in her mind controlled state, neither does vanessa!

fuff, when broken out, proceeds to offer to help elizant ii plan defenses and battle against the wasps and the wasp king, and is the one to give team snakemouth the flame brooch before the giant’s lair. vanessa does get a tank. you LOVE to see a girlboss winning

that’s all for this post!! this was once again very fun to write out and explain; if you have any questions, just shoot me an ask about ‘em :-)

#kbitycus art #bug fables #bug fables roleswap #i love fuff so dearly

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pens-swords-stuff · 3 years ago

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UNDINE!! IT IS I, THE EVER LATE KEWPIE ANON!! Sorry to have left you hanging like that--my character flaw is my terrible response time to messages. I have 2 modes: now or never. And NOW, with updated ADHD meds, I AM IMMORTAL! Anyway, moving on.

1. Thanks so much for the link!! I had actually asked for it so that my mum could watch it, since she loves バライティー番組...but then it turned out that she already uses that site LMAO. She's a pro pirate.

2. Wow your JP school was much more professional than mine!! Hundreds of students??? We had, like, TWENTY!!! And that Chicago student...WOW!! That's super cool though; I love hearing about other community schools, since they're such a formative piece of diaspora childhood.

3. YOU LIKE OTOME GAMES TOO AHAHAHAH I LOVE THAT FOR US JHAJGJSGVH. Though, I've never actually played any voltage games! I'm more of a console otome gamer. ときめきメモリアルGS is the series that started it all...when the fourth game came out after an 11 eleven year hiatus I felt alive again. Also, 剣が君 is available on the JP switch eshop and it has a FREE TRIAL! It's super meaty too. If you have the time and interest, I def recommend playing the demo! Also undine I'm so sad. I bought an otome game on the English eshop because it was on sale and therefore cheaper than the Japanese one....but I can't play with JP text. I'm devastated. I didn't know this. I thought it would let me play in full Japanese but NOPE. English text baby. So, as I'm trying to kiss fictional hotties I am going to be constantly mentally correcting the subpar translations. I bought it months ago and I still haven't played it cause of this reason. WHAT HAVE I DONE!!

4. BABE FE3H IS MY MAIN FANDOM HAHAHAH. And yes that naming choice was bizarre. Just lacks any depth whatsoever that the original title had. Like three houses?? Are we talking fire emblem or the three little pigs fable here cause they too have three houses.

Oh fuck oh NO I JUST REALISED THE FE3H DLC INTRODUCES A *WOLF HOUSE* NOOOOOO AHAHHDSHFJFGJF. Man I guess the localisers took the name inspo from the three little pigs huh. It was literary ALLUSION!

(Also yes on JP to ENG title translation being whack as well!! Frozen to アナと雪の女王?? What a mouthful!)

Thanks for your lovely vibes and friendliness! You really make an introvert want to go off anon and reach out to you with a hesitant but genuine offer of friendship via DMs.....(and maybe one day I'll be brave enough to do so🥺 👉👈)

Have a good week! またね〜

In response to this post.

KEWPIE ANON MY DARLING HELLO 😍😍

You are always welcome in both my DMs and my askbox at whatever time you have the spoons for me, in whatever form is the most comfortable for you. I adore you and talking to you is the highlight of my life. I don't necessarily have the energy to answer asks promptly all the time, but I always get so excited when you visit that I have the energy and willpower to answer ASAP so I can make sure that you see it. (never mind that it takes me a long time to write because I am wordy,,,) I will always use the tag #kewpie anon when talking to you, so there's a surefire way to see anything I yell towards your direction. I might start just making posts with that tag @ you if I think of something I want to say. I've considered it. I also am not always the best at responding to DMs, but I'm sure that I'll actually be able to hold a timely conversation if it's with you.

1) My mom is the exact same way but with manga websites!! Right now we've both been using Manga Toro when she found it after Manga Hua went poof. Manga Hua/Toro have both been fantastic because they actually upload raw manga chapters in Japanese! The bad news is that the Japanese chapters haven't been uploaded in a while for the manga that we've been reading whereas the crappy English translations have 😭😭 I don't get it, isn't it so much easier to just upload the Japanese versions because you don't have to translate them???

We got a VPN to watch Japanese shows on Tver which has been nice, but we have not been successful in finding a way to watch 紅白 during お正月. We used to be able to watch it since we had TV JAPAN on our TV, and then we were able to find it uploaded somewhere but??? Not anymore. We tried doing paid subscriptions to some Japanese streaming sites but nooo you have to pay more to watch 紅白 and it's like jeez okay not worth it. We also used to watch Netflix Japan with it, but considering all of the bans that Netflix has been doing for people using VPNs, we've been laying low and have stopped doing that until that storm passes. And apparently hulu.jp is completely different from hulu.com in the US, so it's not even possible.

We've also been considering getting a Japanese Amazon Prime account since it's only like 5000円 for a full year, and then we get prime video, and I kinda wanna watch the Japanese Bachelor since 指原梨乃 is the MC for it and I love trashy reality TV.

OH BUT ALSO

we got like this chinese TV box thing??? I'm not actually sure what it is since my parents got it when I was away for college. But it's like this tiny little device that you connect to the wifi and to your TV via HDMI. It's all entirely in Chinese, but you know, it's possible to puzzle out what it says because it's super similar to kanji. Anyways, it's this thing that like... a bunch of anime, drama and movies uploaded to it so that you can watch it for free, in almost real time (it usually takes like a day or so to get the newest episode). It has a ton of shows and movies from not just Japan, but also China, Korea, India, all over the world, really and you can watch it for free. It also allows you to livestream channels from all over the world in real time, including all Japanese channels including the regional ones.

It's how I was able to watch あなたの番です　and 半沢直樹シーズン２ while it was coming out. It even had all of the hulu exclusive episodes!! It also has a ton of old dramas and movies too, including all the Ghibli movies, and all the クレヨンしんちゃん　movies.

The catch is: It's not always available in Japanese. Sometimes they only have a Chinese version, and it's impossible to turn off the Chinese subtitles. Also it doesn't have バラエティー unfortunately.

I can ask my parents about it if you want! My mom does a ton of research into these things and she was able to be fairly confident that it's not illegal in any way, but it sure is sketchy but really useful.

3) YES I LOVE 乙ゲー！I've never actually played them on my consoles (I'm a huge console gamer, but when I was younger my family had this really really weird rule of "you can only play video games during winter when dad is home from work". Which in theory was supposed to cut down on my gaming time and force me to play outside in summer, but all it really accomplished was that I did nothing but game in the winter when my dad was home and my mom got frustrated that we weren't doing things as a family and??? mom this is your own fault. Basically this is why I've never played them on my consoles; it's always been a me and dad thing when I was younger so it would've been SUPER weird). But I've heard SUCH good things about ときめも.

I'll definitely check out 剣が君!!! Super excited that it's on Switch.

Also on Switch is: スウィートルームで悪戯なキス, which is a Voltage game that goes on sale sometimes. It's not my favorite one, but hey if it's cheap on Switch I'm totally snatching it up. It's great and has a ton of content for a one time payment which is totally worth it!! Since you know, it does the thing where you have to purchase the 本編、 then the epilogue and the続編 are additional prices for their apps but you don't have to do that on the switch. It's a steal, honestly. And! You can play it in Japanese with the base game too, as long as your switch is in Japanese!!! The only downside is that although it has a ton of stuff and lets you follow the majority of the story, it doesn't have some of the later game stuff that I know the app does, but still, worth it imo.

BUT YES I TOTALLY FEEL YOU ON THE WHOLE JAPANESE LANGUAGE THING!! WHY AREN'T ALL GAMES WITH JAPANESE LANGUAGES ABLE TO PLAY IN JAPANESE????

I was actually crying about this a little while ago. I love playing games in the original language, and for certain games I even like playing them in English too (but I have to have the Japanese version too). I'm a huge Dragon Quest fan, and I have DQXI in English on my PS4, and the Japanese version on my 3DS. But I wanted to play DQXI S edition which is the complete edition and I thought hey I'll just buy the Switch version since I can play both! But no!!!!! Japanese version has to be bought separately???????? I want both but they're so expensive 😭 why are they doing this to us. Why??? This also happened with Great Ace Attorney and Super Famicon Detective Club too and I am so upset.

I want to play both languages, it's 2022 this should be possible! What's the point of having a region free console if you can't do that!! I'm betrayed, backstabbed, and left to expire. I was so excited that the Switch was region free, and this is how they betray me.

(but also I have two Wiis and two 3DSs, and multiple duplicate games on both so I can play the games in both languages (separately bought of course ;3;) so I guess it's getting a lil bit better,,,)

The best thing that ever happened in gaming history was the DS versions of the first 3 Ace Attorney games. They literally had a English version and a Japanese version on the game that you could switch between way back when we were still in the original DS era. It blew my childhood mind! And the Ace Attorney games are so clever and punny in both Japanese and English so it was absolutely amazing. More games need to do that 💔

also that bs about having Japanese voice acting but not the Japanese text??? absolutely criminal, have both you monsters.

English-speakers usually talk about how OTT anime/game dialogue is, or like how English translated otome games are so cringey but like... That's not the source material's fault. I feel like the Japanese language lends itself much better to more dramatic phrasings both culturally and linguistically and it sounds really natural in Japanese, though even the most accurate English translation sounds way too much.

Once I went through and translated some of my otome games for a friend because I was like "i love these games and you're going to love them with me", and it was relaly hard because like... The lines just wouldn't land in English. One example that really sticks out to me is this line in Voltage's bodyguard game. The stoic older man love interest was like 「私は大丈夫です。男ですから。」And it makes so much sense in Japanese, both language-wise and culture-wise because there's a more rigid gender roles and stuff, but translated into English I was like ????? this is not capturing this love interest's hotness.

4) I haven't played FE:3H in Japanese because I played it through with my extremely American, doesn't know how to speak Japanese boyfriend. I got burned out on playing it through because I was the one who grinded those extra battles to level, and got through the beginning Academy part after we beat the game the first time so he could just play through the second half of each route (to be fair, it was on my switch so he couldn't do that for me) but once I manage to recuperate from that I'm definitely planning to try it out in Japanese!

What's your favorite route on it?

My boyfriend and I started on the Black Eagles house and played through Crimson Flower for our very first playthrough, so we're pretty diehard Black Eagles supporters. Hubert is extremely underrated and he's our favorite character. He kinda resembled my boyfriend visually in some ways with the hair and the deepset eyes, so one of our dream cosplays is Edelgard and Hubert.

Initially my boyfriend was very anti-Dimitri/Claude but he ended up coming around on Dimitri and liking him a lot after we played through Blue Lions and we loved that one too. We haven't completed the Church of Seiros route or the Golden Deer route (I had grinded through the Academy part and burnt out. We recently tried to get back to it but realized we remember so little about everything and how to play so we're trying to start from the very beginning), and he's still very anti-Claude but then I was like "You hated Dimitri at first too, but then you liked him after we played through his story so you're going to like Claude too, you're just being judgmental" and he agreed so. I wish we could just speed through the process of playing it because from what little I know happens in the Golden Deer route, it sounds WILD and I'm so interested in seeing what happens in the lore...

I hope you have a wonderful week too kewpie anon, thanks so much for stopping by! I'll be looking forward to the next time you're able to drop an ask 🥰😘😍😊

#undine answers stuff #kewpie anon

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bosmerbitch · 6 years ago

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Lemme tell you how I got into Skyrim. This shit is fucking bad, very very high up on the dumbass scale, so here we go.

Some backstory, so I have an excuse to why I’m so fucking bad at this

When I was growing up, I surrounded myself in Nintendo. My step brother was also a Nintendo nerd, so we didn’t stray all that much. The only time I ever heard Skyrim get referenced was by the douchebag Homophobic Dude Bros™ that were in art class just to try and get an easy grade, so let’s just say it left a sour taste in my mouth.

I moved to Nevada when I was 18 and all they had was a broken Xbox 360. My friend Chris thought I’d like Fable, and really, really did, because I literally finished it in just a few weeks. But when I tried to replay it (evil this time) I couldn’t even complete the first important task because I felt bad for being a horrible person. (the first Big choice you have is to execute some dude you’re supposed to be in love with or a group of protesters that are trying to feed their families).

So he goes, “look. Just try Skyrim.”

And I go, “no.” yaknow, like an idiot.

He wouldn’t believe me when I said I wanted nothing to do with it, because I did admit I had never, ever played it before. So he plays it in front of me for a good week or so. And as per his grand plan, I start to get curious.

And also fucking infuriated.

This dude snuck everywhere. He only used light armor. He never got close enough to an enemy to force him to draw a dagger. He wouldn’t use horses. His play style was his, no judgement—but yakno. it drove me up the fucking wall. If I had to sit through two more hours of this man slowly crab walking his ass up the seven thousand steps because he refused to walk like a normal person lest his sneak skill maybe possibility suffer by one point, I think i’d go full feral.

So I said fuck it, grabbed the controller, and started a new game.

I create a Bosmer character who looks like she could punch me and I’d apologise for my face being in the way of her fist, because i am gay. I then spend 3 thousand years on babyname websites, trying my darndest to find a name that fit her face.

Dumbass Mistake number one: I press A to input the first letter.

“wait. This isn’t a GameCube controller. Fuck.”

I actually press B.

As in. Save and exit.

Do you want to name your character Prisoner?

“what? No!”

I press A, thinking it’s B.

My name is now Prisoner.

Now I’m pissed, but I’ve spent way too much time in the character creation screen to warrant a re-do. I am stuck with a Woodelf named Prisoner.

This becomes part of her lore later on. She was raised in a prison and only ever referred to as “prisoner” when she was little, so she took it as her name but dropped the e for an o when she was learning to write because she was literally a baby who couldn't spell: Prisonor.

Dumbass Mistake #2: I’m so used to autocameras that follow the player and find decent enough angles without me having to jam the stick back and forth that I can not for the life of me fucking Look At Shit Correctly.

I almost died. Do you know how bad you have to be to nearly die in the opening tutorial? It was as if i’d decided to play with my fucking elbows instead of my hands, I was flailing about like a lunatic. All while Alduin moved around and threw rocks at people, too, and my camera work was so bad it looked as if Bethesda had actually made a good scene to convey the horror and terror of the situation. Fuck you Bethesda

Dumbass Mistake #3: heavy armor. This was, and will continue to be, my downfall. Kiss half my fucking carry weight capacity goodbye because this Bad Bitch Needs Those High Armor Stats.

Oh, what? You need to sneak into a cave and steal some shit? Well you now have too options, you absolute Unit. You heavy as fuck bone armor thicc thot.

It’s either: a) sneak as is and get detected the moment your big toe even twitches upwards or b) go streaking for a few in-game hours and stuff all that contraband.... Somewhere. Don’t really know where it goes, to be honest.

Naked but stealthy. Stealthy.... But naked.

Obviously I go streaking quite a lot at first.

As I got bigger and heavier armor and weapons, I started plowing through dungeons by sheer force alone. Mind you, Prisonor is small, angry, and has a huge axe, so it just works®

Mistake #4: no Stamina. We trudge slowly to shadowmere like a woman with infinite health and literally nothing else. I think I maybe slipped her one or two levels into Stamina, and absolutely nothing in Magicka. Actually,

Dumb of Ass Mistake number 5: no god damned Magicka. It became such a problem that i would tell Chris to remind me next time when I was leveling up, to possibly add to poor widdle Magicka pwease? And I never did, since we’d both forget, and hit “health” with a smug little smile in my face. Try and kill me, douches. I have 300 health and counting. Wait. Wait hold on I fucking forgot—

I gave her the first novice hood you find in the game, dusted off my hands as if i’d just solved all of humanity’s inherent problems, and walked. Away.

It’s now part of her backstory. She can’t grow her Magicka because her mother was a skooma addict when she was pregnant, and it fucked with a few things when she was in the womb. can you tell that her backstory is a little fucked up? Well hold on, don't have much faith in me yet, because i killed her adopted dad too lmao #hewasexecutedforpoliticalgainbecausehewasalargethreattothescoomatradeinhammerfell

Mistake #6: hello my name is Prisonor and I would like to tell you about the future of the Companions, do you have a spare minute?

Chris pointed at Whiterun as I sprinted, naked (for speed, because I am already trudging the path of Heavy Armor even at that point) down the hill from Riverwood and said, “you can become a werewolf over there.”

Oh? I can become a tormented, feral, roaring beast over there yonder? Well sign me the fuck up you funky little bitch.

So I completed the whole questline all the way through with no stops. I didn’t like the fact that nearly everyone was a Nord, but it had less context for me at the time so it rubbed me wrong less than I does now.

But hold on. You get something at the end of that quest, right? A huge axe with a lot of history I didn’t really delve that deep into at the time?

Yes. Yes I did build a heavy armor, no-archery, werewolf, Wuuthrad-wielding Bosmer named Prisonor my first playthrough.

She was the ultimate rebel without me even trying to be. To the point where her axe is more deadly to herself than to her own wife.

Dumb #7: I threw the Ring of Hircine in a lake thinking it was useless.

That’s it. I’m still mad about it.

In conclusion,

The hard drive in the 360 was shit, so the load times were awful. Sunk 80$ on a new hard drive and had to sit on the floor waiting for the saves to transfer for 3 hours.

Good game solid 7,000steps out of 5

#skyrim #skyrim oc #elder scrolls

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sielustaja · 6 years ago

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1, 15, 17, 29, 30 for the identity ask 😁

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Read: American Gods by Neil Gaiman, almost anything/everything by Kurt Vonnegut, Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk, Fables comic book series, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Princess Saves Herself in This One by Amanda Lovelace, Agatha Christie’s Poirot novels

Watch: Pushing Daisies, In the Flesh, nature documentaries, X-Men movies, Alien movies (please skip 3 & 4), Nausicaä

Listen: I’ll just put here some bands that have stayed with me for a really long time. CMX, The Crash, Dark Tranquillity, Depeche Mode, Hurts, Pet Shop Boys.

15. five most influential books over your lifetime

Pawn of Prophecy by David Eddings: the first fantasy book I really got hooked into (in my pre-teen - teenage years I read and reread everything he wrote).

American Gods by Neil Gaiman: the first book that felt really got me; I have been fascinated by his writings ever since. I’m also doing my MA thesis on this book, probably a mistake but we’ll see.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie: My first Hercule Poirot novel. Oh boy, it was downhill from there lmao.

Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk: Crime, queer characters, someone’s whole jaw is blown away... at some point my brain just shouted THIS IS COOL, I LOVE IT! and... yeah. I love reading novels that make me go eeewww... nice!

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: I love it, don’t mock me. The story is lovely and I love the humor.

17. would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

Probably yeah. This is me. What you see is what you get. I’m a somewhat private person but here I feel like my identity is not something I must be ashamed of. Offline I’m more quiet and reserved around people I don’t know well. Among friends I’m loud and bold.

29. three songs that you connect with right now.

Dirty Car by Studio Killers, Made in Heaven by Jenni Vartiainen, Natural by Imagine Dragons

30. pick one of your favorite quotes.

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.” - Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

>> identity asks

#thank you dear!!!#wow so many #me #aeonianeutony

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hrvyk-a · 6 years ago

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hc + the idea of being a hunter : )

h.arvey k.inkle? a witch hunter? QUALITY CONTENT if i do say so myself !! well, this is a topic i have somewhat talked about in a previous post. though it was mostly an incoherent rant… so hopefully this time around i will be far more eloquent. i’m going to divide this idea up into two different sections. i think it’ll be easier to understand if i do it this way. otherwise, it’ll end up like last time aka word vomit. lmao

i. when harvey found out / what he learned

it all began with ms. wardwell’s family history assignment. the stories told by his grandfather definitely piqued the boy’s curiosity. a lot of what he learned felt like an unreliable narrative passed down by previous generations, but harvey was certain it would be enough for class. it actually wasn’t until prudence’s comment in the library that he decided to dig deeper. naturally, harvey thought her outburst about the von kunkles being witch hunters sounded insane, but it did get him to spend more time in the town library researching greendale’s history. all harvey found had been more of the same but that’s because he wasn’t able to really understand what he actually read.

some few weeks later after sabrina had come clean to him, harvey returned to the library. suddenly everything he researched began to make sense. harvey could read between the lines and see the truth right in front of him. yes, the unreliable narratives were still present but easy enough to decipher. it wasn’t long before he became fixated on the subject, needing to learn everything and anything he could about magic and witch hunters. it took him down a rabbit hole full of theories and dark fables and salt circles.

eventually harvey went to his family about all of this. he started off with dropping bread crumbs of information, not wanting to set off any alarms if it could be helped. well, it turns out his grandfather knew a great deal more than he originally let on. the time for research was over. harvey would soon begin his training.

ii. training / his ultimate goal

in the previous post, i mentioned that this feeling of being helpless really was a driving force for harvey to go down this path. he hated the idea of needing someone else to save him. it’s something harvey’s dealt with his entire life. he needed his mom to help stand up to his father about quitting football. he needed his brother to help with almost everything after their mother died. he needed sabrina / magic to save him from the witches. well, not anymore. he would never again ask anyone for help. harvey would sooner die.

harvey’s grandfather wanted him to start learning how to use rifles and a number of other guns but harvey refused. this whole journey was never about killing anyone. it was about being to defend himself. harvey needed to feel in control of his life again. a defensive training strategy would be good enough for him. besides, he’d never want to live in a world where sabrina was considered his enemy. it would crush him.

flash foward several months and harvey is now a competely different person. the boy next door is a certified witch hunter and he’s not afraid anymore. does harvey still love sabrina? as much as the day he told her ‘i love you’ for the first time. does this makes things even more complicated? without a doubt.

✫ * send me hc + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it.

#argaents #i. notes to mun.#hc.#hell yeah hell yeah #my harvey witch hunter au is giving me all kinds of life

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mcrololo · 6 years ago

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According to my memory this backstory was two episodes long but I couldn’t have been more wrong lmao. Anyway, wow, the lost fable, amirite?

Constructive criticism under the cut.

Alright, I’m gonna skip the talk about cheesy overused tropes because that’s not my main issue for once (note: I’m gonna go off on tropes later anyway lmao). I’d like to talk about the worldbuilding in this episode so buckle up.

To start things off, I actually liked Ozma dying to an unknown disease. It’s a very subtle way of saying magic and aura have their limits when it comes to healing (regardless of the fact that this might get retconned sooner or later, if it hasn’t happened already).

Salem being a dumb greedy bitch plays nicely into her humanity. We all do crazy things for our loved ones, especially when they’re all we have left. Salem only had Ozma. When he died she was left with nothing. Of course she’s gonna try everything in her power to get him back. I would go to hell and back if it meant I could see my beloved alive and well again! Putting her next to the brother of creation is a nice way of showing their differences. Salem is human. The brother is a god. That was a good parallel.

That being said, I have several issues with these brother gods.

The most obvious one is the trope of good/bad god. It’s incredibly cliche to have a white/yellow/vibrant good god and a purple/black/dark lord. I can’t say they put their own spin on these brothers because neither of them seem to have more personality beyond ‘righteous’ and ‘sassy/impulsive’. They’re incredibly flat when it comes to characteristics, not to mention the good one has abs and broad shoulders and the bad one is a bit lanky. Where have I seen that before? I understand the need to show your audience who’s good and bad in just a second, but neither of these two seem to have a feud with one another. So why?

If we look at their powers there’s not really a distinct difference other than the colors used. Both brothers can create whenever they please, they can both take away/destroy at their whim and they both have the ability to shapeshift. You can't even argue that the god of creation can give and take away life, while the god of destruction can take life and bring back from the dead because ultimately it’s the same thing. They even talk in the same manner. There’s really no difference. The only difference they have going for them is their swimming pool. One gives eternal life, and one grants the desire of destruction. That’s it. They could have easily be one god, but then there’s no feud. Oh wait. There wasn’t. The little tension there was was thanks to Salem and was almost immediately disputed.

And this is just a minor bit but personally I’m tired of seeing gods talk all posh and proper. Give me brother gods who prank war each other and talk in ‘YEET’ lingo. I understand that this takes place millions and millions of years before Remnant’s recreation, before our heroes take part in the story, but who says these gods can’t be like that? It’s a fantasy setting.

That aside, what’s up with their forms? During the whole episode they switch between two forms: humanoid and dragon. Which one is their regular form? Is dragon form a battle form? Do they switch to humanoid as to not scare their own creation? If the god of destruction doesn’t like humans entering his domain, why does he take on his humanoid form for Salem then? And if the god of creation doesn’t want to fight his brother, why does he switch to dragon form? When we see them again after Salem riles up all the humans, they’re in dragon form. Am I safe to assume that’s their regular form, or is it really just a battle form (considering they ARE under attack)? None of my questions really get answered.

I really don’t understand the need to destroy the moon, unless it’s because the dark lord couldn’t keep his impuls in check. If someone could explain that one to me, I’d be grateful.

Jumping back to the pools for a bit. Specifically the destruction one. We are told Salem felt the extreme desire to destroy after jumping in there but when we see her again she’s in a cabin who knows where? She’s not going out of her way to kill, and she doesn’t try until Ozma decides to ditch her. Then what’s the point of making her jump in that pool BEFORE Ozma ditches her? She could’ve jumped in after, abandoning what little humanity she has left in a desperate attempt to really kill herself. Her true love betrayed her, after all.

Let’s talk about her true love for a bit. Didn’t Ozpin say his reincarnation was a curse bestowed upon him by the gods because he couldn’t stop Salem? Was that just another one of his lies or was this a convenient retcon? I honest to god can’t tell with this show nowadays. And why did the god of CREATION choose for Ozma to reincarnate in an already living being, eventually effectively DESTROYING the other soul? He’s going to end up alone anyway, so his excuse of ‘you won’t do this on your own’ doesn’t really add up.

Oh and while we’re talking about Ozma and Salem: They really just invented an entirely new religion in what seems to be, what, ten or twenty years? Salem is immortal so I guess she doesn’t age, but Ozma is still the same reincarnation he was when he met Salem again. Assuming by the change in his hairstyle he aged a little, but other than that they really just... Made a whole religion in barely one lifetime, huh?

I had issues with some of the lines/scenes too. Since I’m already making a post out of this episode I’ll just dump them here.

‘It was here where mankind would fall to ruin’ that’s not… Why would you spoil that? Why give this line right here, when you’re showing the exact happening later on? These few seconds could have been used on something else, like more worldbuilding or something. I understand that someone is telling us a story, but why would you give away the core so easily? Does anyone even do that?

‘None dared to enter his home’. There’s a skeleton right there. A human skeleton. Yeah you can argue this is to ~show~ he’s the god of destruction and death, but then it’s not ‘none’. Then it’s ‘very few’. I know this is nitpicking but even the small bits count. It can take just one word to throw someone out of your story and they may not return to it.

‘And so you must understand the dark lord’s surprise’. Don’t tell me what to do. Viewers and readers usually don’t like it when you do this. This line is easily overlooked because she continues her story immediately after, but seriously. Don’t tell a viewer/reader what to do or feel. This is why people usually say ‘show, don’t tell’. Also why does he greet Salem like that? You know what I mean.

Not a line but w/e. I don’t know what it is about Ozma’s brief return, but it feels a bit weird? His fear makes sense because he probably accepted death and suddenly he’s back alive, but his reaction is almost immediate and his fear is very intense. Was he in hell or something? Like the dude just opens his eyes, doesn’t even register his surroundings and immediately goes into panic mode. Why? At least give him a few seconds to look around.

The god of creation destroys the Grimm like immediately after this scene. I wanted to point that out.

They mansplain immortality to the viewers. That’s literally mansplaining. Do they think we’re dumb? Salem can’t be that dumb, can she? Listen, I don’t WANT to straight out shit on RWBY’s writing anymore, but I really hate mansplaining.

Alright, I get that the stabbing scene needs to be censored. I really do. But don’t let Salem walk around as if nothing happened in the EXACT same scene. There’s no cut, there’s no blood. If it had to be bloodless Salem, they could’ve transitioned from here. It feels like a small, unnecessary continuity error, but important either way.

‘But it is nearly a remnant of what it once was’. I fucking LOVE this line, but if this was a shout-out to the world’s name it makes no sense unless edgy Salem thought ‘oh cool, that’s what I’m gonna name this planet now’. Actually that might be canon. Who knows.

#this got longer than I expected #rwde

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bellringermal · 7 years ago

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What sort of woman is Lady Maria for you?🙂

LONG POST INCOMING!!!

Maria is a character Daisy and I developed as time went by. From the game, we can get a decent impression of what Gehrman is like or at least what he is now after god knows how many years trapped in the Dream. It wasn’t hard for me to try and piece together the man he was before because we have many clues, we know many things about him: who he worked for, what he liked *wink wink* what his opinion on the hunt was and so on.

Maria is a much more mysterious character, a less relatable one (in my opinion) because we don’t have the chance to interact with her that much in the game. Ludwig at least gets a final, tragic speech before passing out but Maria doesn’t and she does not even have any final words when killed, unlike Gehrman.

This is why when I decided to start writing my fanfic, the first thing I tried to do was to give Maria some solid background and a reason to be there with the Hunters of Byrgenwerth which consequently led me to develop headcanons for the entire Cainhurst nobility LMAO.

First of all, Maria is a very capable woman not because she was born talented but because she worked for it. Since she was young, she trained hard and intensively in the martial arts while leading the life of a noblewoman perfectly integrated into Cainhurst’s lavish society. Maria is 100% one of them and very aware of it. She is not a rebel who doesn’t “want to be a lady, but a knight instead”, she is not a tomboy, she isn’t even a knight in fact, but a member of the royal guards: trained soldiers and spies who are the personal protectors of the queen herself.

She knows what her place is, what her family expects from her and really never questioned it prior to her arrival in Byrgenwerth. By her own admission, she knows very little of the condition of the general population, she had never walked in a crowded street in Yharnam without other guards and lackeys by her side for she has been raised in the sheltered and stale society of the nobles.

The disconnect between her and the Byrgenwerth hunters is abysmal at first. Her opinion of them was terrible and she openly disliked Gehrman and his methods of teaching. No matter how prepared she was, her prior training only focused on one vs one combat between knights and it proved almost completely useless against beasts. She was forced to unlearn something she took pride in, something she spent all her youth learning and perfecting. She felt like she didn’t belong and never will. This is why my fanfic takes 2 YEARS to really get everything in place for the romance between her and Gehrman to blossom :P she had to adapt to the life of a Hunter first. And once she did, she enjoyed the heck out of it. She became proud of being one of them, forged strong friendships with her colleagues and some of the students such as Rom and Caryll. Her distaste for Gehrman turned into deep admiration not just for his skills as a Hunter but as a person in general since she considered his (and his students’) accomplishments really inspiring.

Once she opened up, she revealed her warmer and cheerful side, that was hidden beneath the cold disguise of the Cainhurst noblewoman. Maria is overall an optimistic and daring woman who likes the challenge (no matter if during a hunt or while playing arm wrestling with Izzy and Gratia :P) and to have fun. She is well aware of her attractiveness and absolutely confident and open when it comes to her love life since I headcanon Cainhusters to be way less ‘prudish’ than your average Yharnamite.

Maria is also really fond of her sister Lady Evelyn and her uncle/adoptive father Lord Ackerman who was also her teacher and is constantly concerned about their well-being, especially Evelyn’s since she was facing a period of psychological and health complications after she had an abortion which is, obviously, not only a really terrible experience to go through but also something that put a stigma on Evelyn’s name in the eyes of all the other nobles. In my headcanons, Cainhursters were infected by the Sanguine Plague (which is NOT the plague of the beasts, it’s a different illness of Pthumerian origin) which made many of their women unable to bear children. Maria too thinks she’s infertile (which is true in my ‘serious’ fanfic and untrue in the LND AU because happy endings and stuff) and that is one of the reasons why she is so affected by the whole Kos-Fishing Hamlet-thing and why the Doll’s personality complements hers by acting so maternally.

I also think that she didn’t really care a whole bunch about being a mother and such as far as her own goals and aspirations were concerned, but being a young woman raised in a society that valued bloodline and the fabled conception of the ‘Child of Blood’ above all else, those expectations still affected her. But even with that, she was rational enough to draw the line when Annalise had her own soldiers trained to kill other humans in order to collect Blood Dregs. That was the moment when Maria truly began to despise her family and their gruesome traditions. The more her Pthumerian heritage became apparent (the more she used the Old Blood, the more Maria’s abilities and appearance changed) the more she became repulsed by it. She also felt guilty because of all the Pthumerians she and the Hunters slaughtered to allow the scholars to explore the Chalices. This was possibly the first moment in her life when she truly needed Gehrman’s and her friend’s support and understanding because for the first time she was not comfortable with herself. She feared she was going to lose herself, to become ‘hollow’, in a sense. I took a lot of inspiration from a character by Angela Carter for this particular ‘phase’ of Maria’s story arc. The Countess from ‘The Lady of the House of Love’:

(…) she is the last bud of the poison tree that sprang from the loins of Vlad the Impaler who picnicked on corpses in the forests of Transylvania.

She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening.

She is so beautiful she is unnatural; her beauty is an abnormality, a deformity, for none of her features exhibit any of those touching imperfections that reconcile us to the imperfection of the human condition. Her beauty is a symptom of her disorder, of her soullessness.

Long story short, Maria is a brave young woman with a good heart and the humility of admitting her own flaws. Said humility is what makes her different from the majority of the snobbish Cainhursters and why she is able to fit amongst the Old Hunters, why she admires the dedication of the Byrgenwerth scholars to their research and why she is able to see past Gehrman’s manias and social awkwardness and care for the good man she knows he really is.

She cannot forget or ignore her origins, being a Cainhurster means more than possessing a noble title, her very DNA is different, she is not fully human but she is determined not to let her ancestry change the person she wants to be and how others see her. She joined the Old Hunters on Annalise’s request but the decision to become a permanent member of their group was hers and hers alone, she refused to use Blood Blades despite her extremely powerful blood and consciously looked at Gehrman at some point in the story and thought “you know, he’s kinda hot”.

#bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #gehrmaria #fanfic #headcanons

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filipinosmakinghistory · 7 years ago

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Meet Josh Abalos a Super Senior at UMass Boston! He is a Filipino/Filipino-American who grew up in a setting that emphasized the Filipino culture. Today is his birthday! What do you think is the most common misconception about being Filipino? That we're Mexican or that we speak Spanish? That the United States DIDN'T straight up colonize us after ownership of the archipelago was transferred from the Spanish to the US after the Spanish-American war? That we're dirtier or less civilized than northern/paler Asians? How did you become aware of your cultural identity? I grew up for my first 10 years around New York and New Jersey where there were huge Filipino communities. My parents raised me with the customs that they carried over when they moved to America. They just acted like themselves around me and I absorbed that. So I knew from an early age that I was Filipino but when I moved to Massachusetts at age 10 where there were markedly less Filipinos, and I became mostly surrounded by white people, I started noticing how the color of my skin, and the culture and behavior that I brought with me, stood out from everyone else. The lack of diversity in the new town didn't help either. How much do you identify with the history of the Philippines? Lapu Lapu from the Visayas was pretty badass. He killed Magellan, that cocky Portuguese bastard, and defended the Philippines before the archipelago even had a name. There's also the legend of Urduja (pronounced: urd-oo-ya) from the region of Pangasinan, where my dad's side comes from, though scholars are divided on whether or not she was ever real (I'd bet she was real after some internet research). Anyway she was a fabled warrior princess in the pre-colonial archipelago, who led a band of female warriors and defended her kingdom from foreign invaders as well. Legend has it that she would not marry any man who could not best her in combat. Thus she died a virgin. Wowza. What a woman. Check out the veracity of her story for yourself. http://www.urduja.com/princess.html. Then there's Jose Rizal, who is widely regarded as a polymath, is very respectable in my books for that very trait (also v v v respectable for igniting the revolution just through his writings). He was also a nerd who got around with the ladies (20 different girlfriends), so while I don't necessarily promote promiscuity and especially not infidelity, let it be said you can totally be an over-the-top nerd and still get laid (and inspire a country). Wish I knew that in middle school lol. Otherwise, in regards to my family's history: my lolo (grandfather) on my dad's side fought in World War II. He was at Bataan. He hated the Japanese, and with good reason. They made him and the other 80,000 POWs march some 60 odd miles malnourished and abused. They would torture, physically, and mentally attack them while marching. He watched his buddies die right next to him from exhaustion, starvation, and bullets to the back of their heads. Whenever a POW couldn't keep up, they were either shot or just left in a ditch to wither. He almost didn't make it, and I might never have been born. Bittersweetly, he survived only to die of cancer right around the time I was born. I wish I had at least met him. My dad recalls these memories of his to me. He tells me that lolo always used to hate when dad did Japanese stuff. Lolo never wanted his son to drive Japanese cars, eat sushi, or to learn karate (all of which he did anyway; the damned rascal was a 2nd degree blackbelt in wado karate). Given all that, sometimes I wonder what my lolo would think of me if he were here today. I watch a lot of anime, I pretend to (ironically) act japanese sometimes, but you could say I look like a total weeb. It's weird to think about. I don't hate Japanese people, although I think some of the them are weird (have you heard of waifu body pillows? jeez). Would my grandfather disown me? Would he understand what it is to be a kid in this day and age? Is religion important in your household? Describe a situation illustrating why or why not. It's pretty important. My parents have poon amongst which is the Santo Niño. We have a prayer group which rotates amongst different families' houses where we pray the rosary together and praise Jesus and stuff but I'm not so much into it anymore considering I don't align myself with the Catholic Church anymore. Have you ever struggled with your racial/ethnic/cultural identity? Describe this struggle and how you overcame it. Yea people called me a twinkie or a banana all the time because I acted so white. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside. I wanted to believe I was just like all the other kids in middle and high school but nothing could be farther from the truth. Oh sure, I learned how to fit in reaaal good but that doesn't mean I still wouldn't get sly remarks like "oh I didn't know you would be into punk rock" or the not so subtle "I thought you were Mexican!" and "Oh you're from there? You must eat dog then". Everywhere I go, I'm reminded that I don't exactly belong. You don't see a lot of Asians at punk shows, especially around here. Kids at concerts assume I don't know the scene, I don't know the bands, that I'm just a casual show goer, or worse a "poseur". At the kind of shows I go to, three is a crowd in terms of Asians being there.

Sure Asians are supposedly the "model minority" but I'm brown. I'm a "dirty Asian". On top of which, I have a full bushy beard and moustache these days. I don't look so innocent anymore (I try to avoid cops and follow the law). Filipinos don't even recognize me as Filipino at first glance anymore. I was in a crowd of Filipinos from my parents' generation and they all spoke English around me, but as soon as I stepped away, they felt comfortable enough to speak Tagalog. I had to tell them I was fully Filipino and that my parents grew up in the home country. What's worse is I don't speak any Filipino language so even when they know I'm full-blooded Filipino, the older generation sees me as less because I can't speak Tagalog. I was at a Filipino birthday party over the summer, where this tita (auntie) overheard that the birthday girl's new boyfriend barely understands a single lick of Tagalog. Soon as she heard that flew off the handle shouting at no one in particular "ANONG PROBLEMA NG MGA KABATAAN NGAYON. THESE KIDS SHOULD UNDERSTAND TAGALOG. THEY SHOULD BE ASHAMED. THEIR PARENTS SHOULD BE ASHAMED. SUSMARYOSEP" and I'm just here like lmao chill out tita, sorry we grew up in America.

But yea there is that slight pang of regret that I can't connect with my people on that level. Nowadays I'm President of my Filipino club, Hoy! Pinoy!, at UMass Boston. Second Term whoop whoop. I try to re-acculturate myself with the Philippines and try to provide the opportunity for members of my club to do the same. I helped found the club specifically to find my roots again, and be around people who were like-minded.

And I recommend to anyone and everyone who is disconnected from their family's original home land, to join a cultural group, such as a college Filipino club in my case, so you can be surrounded by people who work together to find yourselves and your identity in something other than just the fads, memes, and trivialities of American life. So you can understand the struggle your ancestors, your family, have gone through to get you where you are now. So you can understand why you face the hardship you're facing now from society around you. If your family isn't perfect, it's probably in large part from the /STRESS/ of they and their ancestor's way of life being uprooted and changed so many times and so often, that life has been just chaos, whether if it's the Spanish colonizing us, the Japanese abusing us, the white Americans imperializing us, or just the immigrant experience as a whole. And if your group isn't asking the hard questions, like where y'all came from, how will you know where to go next? You cannot grow as a person or even take a step forward if you don't have a place from where you began. You can't build a house without a foundation. As humans, we build narratives, personal stories, which we use to identify ourselves, and figure out who we are and what we want. Take psych 101 and you'll hear this. Take Asian American Psychology and you might find a group of students who would help you understand who you are as both a Filipino and an American. Who cares if it's not a course that teaches you how to make money or where you learn a marketable skill? You'll be unhappy in life if you're rich and successful but don't know who you are and what you truly want. Ask me how many people I grew up with that are like that now.

If you really, truly know who you are as a person, that can never be taken away from you, no matter how many times you're told who you are by dominant ethnic group who have never experienced what it's like to not be white, what to want by advertisements and product reviews that just want your money, or what to change so you can try to be just like them and not so foreign and scary. You're an individual which is both scary and exciting. But you're also human, and you need to be loved, regardless.

As Uncle Iroh once said: "It's time for you to look *inward* and begin asking yourself the big questions. Who are you and what do *you* want?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYkuuu9u3EI What are you most proud of as a Filipino/Filipino-American? FOOD. UGH BUT WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG TO COOK?? . . . . . . . . ANS: BC IT'S MADE WITH LOVE. What challenges did you face, growing up as a Filipino/Filipino-American?For those not from the Philippines, have you ever been to there? Tell a story or favorite memory from you visit! I was probably 7 years old when I visited my extended family in the province of Pangasinan, in Lingayen. Pros: Watched Darna on repeat Cons: Almost drowned in the monsoon. Great times. Told my parents "When are we getting off this wretched Island already!!! 😭" Describe a significant event in your life that shaped who you are today Seeing other Filipinos (-Canadian) my age underage drink and "sin" (lol) when I was still a goody two-shoes in high school. Didn't help that I had a crush on this one girl who I looked up to. I started drinking in college. What do you feel most grateful for your life? Being born into a family that is economically advantaged. I mean, look, we live in Massachusetts, I go to one of the best public university systems in the nation, and I'm not going to be up to my neck in loans when I graduate. That's more than most can say. Tell us about someone who has had a big influence in your life? Ghandi. Civil Disobedience. Pacifism. Anti-colonialism. What a guy. What traditions have been passed down your family? Eat with your hands. Don't leave the bathroom door open. Describe your immediate/household family. Mom, Dad, and brother who is a sophomore in high school. Is having a knowledge of family history important? Why or why not? Yes. Maybe you should know if you have a family history of trauma or diabetes so you can get diagnosed earlier in life to see if you need to change your lifestyle to prevent life-threatening situations or lasting damage to your mind and body. Maybe. What does it mean to be successful in your family? Be a lawyer or a doctor. Be rich. Have kids. Whoopee

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bookahdoit · 7 years ago

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I just thought I'd finally share this. I'm an undiagnosed Aspie ( someone with Asperger's syndrome or ASD ), I've had this speculation for a long time now and have actually made an "about me" list. I'll be seeking a formal diagnosis hopefully next week. The thought of it is killing me or rather, making me really apprehensive that people might see me as just ""seeking attention"". It's nerve-racking tbh.

I always felt I was different, felt like this was more than just being anti-social ; something I was teased for during high school. Making friends is difficult even though someone would advice me to just be more “social” I still don’t understand how.

I avoid small conversation and eye contact, I would look at the person’s lips or mostly just shift my gazes to the side or whatever’s behind them. Why? IDK, looking into someone's eyes feels awkward and invasive. If I do talk, I am soft spoken but I don’t think I’m monotonous? I do have a low voice though. I go “off” when there’s too much social interaction a.k.a a shut down, I feel weary and just want to retreat somewhere I’m familiar with.

I love puns but some jokes, I need context to. People misunderstand me most of the time. I rehearse what I have to say so I won't screw up but I think I do. This is why I reply slow during IMs ahaha not because I'm ignoring you but because I gotta say things right, and why I don’t like RPing over IMs. I get really pressured and anxious.

I stim, yes, I rub my fingers together when I'm nervous, I pick at the skin on my lip, around my nails & at scabs, sometimes unaware I'm doing it. ( sorry this could be really disgusting to some ). I stare into space and talk to myself. out loud. in public. Sometimes even laugh when I remember something funny, which probably weird people out. I get upset when people touch my stuff and place it somewhere else.

I’m a visual learner! I prefer images over texts but when there’s too much happening in one picture, I get overwhelmed. Like, in video-games, they have this new compass implemented rather than a mini map. I HATE IT! and it messes me big time because there are so many things happening in one straight line hovering above the screen, it took me a while to understand how it works but I still hate it and wish they bring back the mini map.

Emotions are hard for me to express. I’d probably say “ oh this food’s great !” with a blank expression. but I CAN read people, so yeah I can tell if someone’s being fake or not. But I can't read body language well.

When I was a kid, my mum would say that I’m sensitive and weird. The voices of people around me tend to go faster in my head back then, it still happens at present but not as often. Did that make sense? I have a sensitive sense of smell, I hate flowers’ scents, for example.

I had meltdowns and just explode into tantrums. As I grew older those meltdowns lessen, but as an adult I can be very irritable. Remembering those episodes is really embarassing btw.

Obsessions or "Special interests" include: Vampires, Figures, Bill Willingham’s Fables, Deadpool, Pokemon & the Nintendo 2ds & 3ds line. I have a whole collection of vampire books, lore and history related ( I obsess over Vlad the Impaler haha! ), while Deadpool merch litter my room. I get very excited about vampires the most. Example: Overwatch has a new halloween event, they have 3 vampire related skins and I need & want to get them all! I was also very excited and giddy at the theory of a blood moon vamp brawl lmao. As for the Nintendo 3ds thing, I buy all variations of it when I can, I don’t specifically play a lot of games there, I just love how it looks and how the buttons feel? I still have to get the new 2ds XL,the texture on the cover looks sleek! Pokemon has been an obsession since I was a kid! I have the cards, the games and some merch.

I’m also very addicted to video games since I was a kid but that seems very common even to neurotypical people... right? I LOVE videogames! And enjoy watching video game related content on youtube too, not just playthroughs but news and stuff like that. The latest titles,consoles and how those games were developed.

Low key feel that I hold a special interest in Adam, my OC. I am obsessed with drawing him, I research a lot for him more than my other OCs and I get very carried away with questions and memes. Possibly because he's a lesser known vampire species ( an amalgamation of the aswang and the strigoi ). May just be favouritism but I dont know, feels different. *Oh yeah! here’s a trivia: Gabriel, his son, is an Aspie lmao. He wasn’t easy to write though.

I overshare or provide too much information especially when it’s something I’m really passionate about (as seen above).

Do fidget toys work on me? LMAO yes, some do! it keeps me from picking at my skin mostly, they also work as sensory toys so there’s that. I like the fidget cube and have a couple of fidget spinners but I need a specific feel for it, like the center has to have this indentation for your thumb, it just feels right for me somehow.

Growing up undiagnosed is pretty difficult especially in an environment where mental health is taboo where people claim that I'm seeking attention or in our language 'papansin'. For reference: I'm turning 25 and have scored a whopping 163/200 on an AQ test scoring above average on ASD and OCD, while my neurotypical results were below average 52/200. Of course I have to seek a psych for a formal diagnosis. But you know whats worse? being an aspie AND having depression RIP

#aspie #aspergers #growing up undiagnosed is pretty hard

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whirlwind-ff · 7 years ago

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Lisa, you don’t know how much I needed this. I honestly felt like I had did a horrible job with writing the epilogue when I realized no one was responding to it with tear emoijis or better yet cursing me out, LMAO. I’m not big on perfect happy endings, more so realistic ones, and for me this was it. It wouldn’t have felt right to give these two what is expected and especially not when they have, as you say best, an intense and climactic connection. In fact, it would’ve been a waste of time and sixty chapters. But let’s get to it, soulmates are what they are, and I hope this story shattered the idea that soulmates are supposed to be these people you fall deeply in love with and stay married to until you’re knocking on eighty with thirteen grandkids and a ton more of great ones. That’s the fable television version. It often gets misconstrued, but Ry and Lamarr are the real one, and soulmates come into your life to teach lessons then leave; how they leave varies. The topic has been tied throughout the entire story and should’ve been enough of a hint to where the ending may go, but I guess not. That’s fine with me though…sort of, lol. I’m sooooooooo glad it was satisfyingly heart wrenching for you, that’s the kind of response I’d hoped I'd get. One where it initially hurts that she’s gone, but at the same time we get Mirielle and see that Lamarr is calm about it all. He’s not hurting. Riley isn’t, and no one is for that matter. So why should we? Also, Riley straight up said she was a ghost, HOW Y’ALL MISS THAT? 😭😭Thank you so much for reading, I swear I enjoyed every single time you’d drop in and get me, lol. I doubted myself and this ending so much, but this message made me feel like I made the right choice for sure. I’m already starting on something new, but I need to catch up on your work over on Wattpad first! Thanks again! ❤️

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milesperhorror · 8 years ago

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rough af seeder family details

(so i don’t forget this shit/edits on going lmao) florence seeder: the mother of our seeds. blessed with a tilted, wild beauty-- all big shoulders and wide swinging hips and her hippy hair that always stretched down to her ass. her father used to strike her with the back of his hand and threaten to cut it all off while her mother watched from her perch in the kitchen. a family with roots in the california fields and hands that were endlessly caked in dirt, florence used to stretch out in the socal sun with her stoner friends and say, “i’m the fucking grapes of wrath incarnate” topher, the first guy she’d ever kiss tenderly and who died while wandering drunk on a train trestle, laughed and blew smoke into her golden hair, “flo, none of us are shit-- none of us are ever gonna be shit, either.” florence had laughed like a maniac at that but the knowledge was already seeded inside her: topher was wrong-- she was going to be something, she was going to be something great. last name “cedar”, like the wood chips, but as a drunken twenty-something it didn’t sit well behind her first name and she scraped her tips until she could change it. ”i’m gonna plant something in this world”, she told the receptionist at the courthouse who rolled his eyes because when he was growing up, everyone was saying stupid shit like that and writing away the god fearing parts of themselves to be named after flowers and rivers. but florence knew better-- that was her one and only flaw: despite the drugs and impulsive, breathless way she ran her fingers through the swarms of male acquaintances, our girl always knew best. she knew when she said she loved someone-- her men, her kids-- she knew it was true. fillip seeder: first born, the only one whose birth certificate read “cedar” (if only for a few years of his life), and some would say a bad seed, though not bad enough that he didn’t manage to dig his roots deep in the other seeder kids’ hearts. he wasn’t taken from birth by devilishness or cruelty-- the kid just wanted to be liked and respected more than he’d ever figured out how to articulate. son of jimmy mccullen, sunless looking priest who was twice florence’s age when he called her over to his sedan and said “i’m so cold, girlie”. fillip was born out of that dark place and always seemed to shy away from the lights of greatness, no matter how often he talked about “being someone”. was he smart-- yes. talented-- kid could draw with charcoal like a university student the day he turned ten. hard-working-- only when he felt like he’d get noticed, which was never when ferris was alive. used to hunker down in his room to “study” but just ended up sketching out everything he was feeling instead. Told Florence, Ferris’s father, and his many foster parents-- “art doesn’t mean shit”, like if he said it enough he could trade in his clever hands for an ability he had deemed more useful. so determined was he to avoid being quiet and sensitive and mild: all the things florence had cooed to ferris, spinning prophecies about where such qualities would take her blond favorite. fillip refused to be the replacement, as far as he was concerned, his mom had already made her decision: laid the best of her love into the earth next to the son she adored most of all. he found a compromise in middle school: used his quick learning fingers and stunted size for fighting. he was fast and cruel-- an endless pale blur of energy and intuitive blows. his friends were budding dropouts, but they loved him-- and he loved the way they looked at him when he was speckled with bruises and blood. loved his mom like a son should but he never quite forgave her for ferris or what came after all that. when florence was laid in the ground though, the man knew he had to make it up for her-- despite his darkness, he didn’t want his sisters to be split down the middle like he and ferris had been. took them on at twenty three-- a benefactor with pale, greasy hair and arms that were always full of books. “read these,” he said, “we seeder’s gotta make something of ourselves before we die ” but that was our boy’s destiny after all-- a dark burnout who went in a silent flare of darker fire. ferris seeder: the second born, willowy little seeder. they say you have to pull up weeds by the root and life was intent on snatching up little ferris the second he pulled in his first shaky gulp of air. sickly, paler than fillip (which shouldn’t have been possible), and the only seeder child whose dad was in the room. chance graceson. sandy haired motherfucker who was like florence: really thought he loved people until he hung around them too long. split in the night three months after ferris came to be. florence didn’t mind-- the guy drank all her seltzer water and missed the toilet when he pissed. ferris, though, she adored. they say mothers don’t have favorites but everyone who wasn’t an orphan or an only child knows that’s bullshit. mothers love one kid with tens times the intensity they love all the others-- and god, florence though she’d been baptised in fire the moment she saw ferris. frail little boy. he needed her in a way fillip never would, and she bet everything on his tiny life-- lost her house to medical bills and went on the run with ferris, leaving fillip in foster care for two years. ferris was timid and sweet only for florence and he only lasted those three, dreamy years before his lungs and heart finally decided they’d had enough of fighting to function the same way all the other body parts did with effortlessness. no funeral. florence was broke and broken-- she buried him on the california coast, up by big sur, under a cypress tree she mistook for a cedar. then she stole back her firstborn who didn’t even ask where his brother was. fable seeder: our heroine, the tree whose roots folded up out of the ground like Tolkien’s ents-- a walking tree from a forest closing in on the scottish moor. fable’s father was the best of the bunch and our lucky girl became a container for the love both he and florence left with her. malcolm johnson-- with skin like rich, late-night laughter and eyes so brown they were almost black. he pulled florence up out of her misery and debt. man wasn’t successful at anything people admired, but what he lacked in traditional actualization, he made up for in raw, impossible luck. guy was banned from las vegas, though none of the casinos could ever file a suit against him for anything they could prove. in fact, the only time the world demanded even a hint of misfortune from him was when fable was born-- in a hurricane that kept the public transport stagnant and cut the power in the hospital where florence was. nurses elsewhere, fable was born by candle-light, the midwife an old woman in a wheelchair who’d answered to florence’s moans of pain. such humble means to florence were fantastical-- so “fable” it was. malcolm used to sit our girl on his knee and tell her, “you got something to give to the world, fable.” and then bounce her high and catch her in his large hands while she shrieked with laughter. she was freckled like with such nebulous impressiveness, fillip used to say she was her own tiny universe. florence always called her aesop, though. between starry skies and talking animals, little fable was showered from all sides with luck and laughter and love. perhaps she remembers it better than it was-- the way the cops were always on florence’s ass about fillip and the way malcolm would come home with wounds he never intended to see a doctor for-- maybe our girl blocked all that out. she remembers the polaroid, though, malcolm’s gift to her at age four. he told her, “show me how you see things” and so she spent the day taking pictures of the edges of tables and underside of the mastiff florence had found in a box on the side of the road. all these neat, developing squares fable took and arranged out on the kitchen floor. then she called malcolm and florence in. florence smiled and hugged her daughter, her swell of pride still hazy from grief that never seemed to sleep, but malcolm swept up fable and exclaimed, “so talented, so talented! you’re gonna be ansel adams two, baby fable!” fillip lingered in the doorway, old enough to understand he was passed the age where he could be jealous of his siblings. he said, “nice, star-girl” but did not mention anything about art being shit, and tried to keep his smile as steady as his mom’s. when elis was born, even fable knew she wasn’t malcolm’s, but the man never once mentioned it. held elis just as tightly as fable and cheered her on with the same dedication. fable was damn near obsessed with her little sister-- always showing her how to do things, giving her a million silly nicknames, and always taking polaroids of the little blonde’s furious screaming or delighted cries. but then came malcolm’s second brush with unluckiness-- there was the war overseas and malcolm’s own fervent patriotism (”florence, this country is the best one in the world-- even with it’s bad spots!”). foot got injured, then infected, and then fable lost her father like the two seeder’s before her. florence went wild. stared dressing in her high school clothes and drinking every waking moment. anything to keep the threat of reality at bay. if her love had died with ferris, her spirit was forever wrapped in an american flag-- side by side with the man she could have seen her future in. fable was scared. fable was sad. fable had to keep reminding herself of how a camera flash lit up the room, how it could preserve smiling faces forever. florence and malcolm’s and fillip’s and elis’ beaming faces, immortalized in the invincibility of black and white. it would take her years to look beyond these childhood memories-- years to crave the questions the photographs dangled in front of her. who were these smiling faces? where had they come from? and where had they gone-- really, truly: where were they now? her mother got her curious, her brother plunged her into the tepid waters of conspiracy, but when elis vanished into the great american wilds-- then and only then did she pack a bag and set out. felicity “elis” seeder: you wanna talk supposed “bad seeds” in the seeder family history and you can’t dodge elis. if the family bore the kind of curse some would become convinced it did, most of it had been heaped onto elis’ pale shoulders. exhibit a: she was the spitting image of her mother-- eyes, hair, the sturdy jaw and the wide hips. it was a resemblance she resented the hell out of-- strangers in public letting her know she looked just like her wasted, wailing mother. whoop-tee-fucking-doo. if florence loved ferris best and fable loved elis best, then elis adored fillip most of all. her dad was a mystery, even to florence, and though fable would turn up theories of ms. charlotte chen or mr. skip, elis decided pretty quickly that she didn’t need one. fillip would take care of her. and fable would pick up the slack when he was at work. after all, fillip was the one who had showed up first-- before the police or the prodding neighbors-- when florence died. oh poor elis, cursed ghost girl in a family of wandering ghosts-- she’d been the one who’d seen it happen. a dark figure in the hallway-- she called him “the person with ears”. the therapists thought she was psychotic and fillip and fable had been patient with elis’ “a monster killed mom” story, but then fillip found a job that could support the three of them. And then he stopped telling elis that “monsters don’t exist”. “i love her too, fillip, but do you actually beli--?” he’d hold up a hand and shake his head, “do your homework, star-girl. you have a lot of work to do probably.” elis was always eavesdropping through the thin walls of the apartment. fillip believed her, she could feel it in the core of herself-- and she loved him best of all for it. but seeing your mom die doesn’t make you a bad seed, after all-- elis’ restlessness, her wildness, her desire to find out how things broke and struggled and burned. that was the badness. the way she’d tell fable “to go fuck herself as soon as she could speak”, the way she’d smash her presents just see the look on florence’s face. “i’m cursed,” she used to cry into fable’s shoulder, “i just want to hurt people. i just want everything to die.” it was a mantra that, after fillip died, just became “we’re cursed. we’re cain, fable, we’re the fucking children of cain. i don’t know how mom fucked up or her dad or whatever but we’re all--” fable just let her cry. held her close and whispered “shh shh” until elis had screamed and rambled herself to sleep. she still wanted everything to burn, but held in her a new fear: that he appetite for destruction was predestined into some cruel deity’s master plan and not a wild extension of her own, home-grown depravity. after fillip was reported dead, the girls only got a few more months together-- foster care just couldn’t keep them in the same homes-- but fable could already feel elis slipping through her fingers. and at 17, the girl disappeared from the world altogether. of course, elis was fable’s wake up call-- the charge to take up her camera and whatever else she could carry from her past (malcolm’s polaroid camera, florence’s favorite flannel shirt, fillip’s copy of the plato’s republic, and elis’ shaky handed journal) and find her sister. and the rest of her family.

#fable seeder

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