Belly inflation comics berrygirl

8000 8250 8500 8750 9000 9250 9500 9750 10000

5250 5500 5750 6000 6250 6500 6750 7000 7250 7500 7750

250 500 750 1000 1250 1500 1750 2000 2250 2500

2750 3000 3250 3500 3750 4000 4250 4500 4750 5000

I am overweight/obese. This is largely because of problems with my hormones and metabolism (as explained to me by a doctor) meaning that almost all of my excess weight is stored in my stomach/abdomen. I do not want advice or comments on weight or weightloss, it is something I am very aware of and actively managing.
My problem is that I am experiencing significant fluctuations in the size and shape of my abdomen. It is mostly my partner that notices the very visible changes and the swelling even before I do. From day to day my belly can get visibly larger or smaller, and sometimes this "swelling" can extend up to my lower chest or even around the sides, but it is mostly in my upper belly. I feel almost inflated and there is an uncomfortable tight feeling. But it's really hard to tell exactly what is going on as whatever it is is hidden under a good layer of belly fat. Everytime I try to look up how to tell if you are bloated/retaining wateabdominal swelling etc. it gives results on how to tell if you are bloated OR fat. I am definitely fat, I just want to know what else is going on underneath.
I also have IBS that doesn't fully explain swelling around the sides etc. I take the progesterone only mini pill for protecting my uterus lining since I very rarely have periods spontaneously (less than once a year) and never have since my first at 11. I've got PCOS, and since being on the mini-pill this has gotten so so much more frequent and severe but my gynaecologist says it sound digestive not hormonal. I also have HSD (hypermpbile spectrum disorder).
I don't smoke and I very rarely drink alcohol (I've probably had a maximum of 10 alcohol drinks in the last 5 months). I eat relatively normally, breakfast smoothie on work days (with probiotic yoghurt), even mix of protein rich salads or sandwiches+fruit+crisps for lunch, etc. I get 8 hours of sleep a night and about 5,000 to 8,000 steps a day.
Other medications: Concerta (methylphenidate), amitryptiline, and occasionally buscopan (hyoscine butylbromide).

Hello everyone, I'm a bit late today with this. Tom Brevoort was sick with Covid so we all wish him well. As usual, here's a summary of some of his Substack Q&As. I always encourage people to read the actual Substack itself for the full context of questions and answers, you can find it here: https://substack.com/home/post/p-145215587

Is the Hellfire Gala over? If so, will some other fancy event take its place? It was very fun seeing all the thoughtfully designed and unique outfits based on characters’ costumes and powers, and even more fun seeing those looks brought to life at conventions. Even if it’s not mutant-focused, it’d be cool to see more Marvel galas/fancy parties.

TB: Hard to hold a gala when your island is gone, Joe. That said, we have been talking about a thing that would fill the same spot in the publishing plan that the Hellfire Gala occupied for the past couple of years. But more on that as we get closer to it.

From an editorial stand-point, does this make it difficult to carry Phoenix over into the new era given how powerful she is? The tidbits that have been shared have mentioned encounters with Captain Marvel, The Guardians of the Galaxy, Nova, The black order, etc, which seems to steer in a different direction from the grand cosmic depiction we saw in RotPox 5. Is the intention to tone down her power levels to a more manageable state where she can be teaming up with the likes of the characters mentioned above, or are there still plans to keep her at that grand cosmic level and explore her as a character that is among the upper echelons of Marvel's cosmic hierarchy and deal with such cosmic abstracts and entities?

TB: Phoenix and PHOENIX are going to be plenty cosmic, Phoenix. But it can be a bit exhausting playing at that scale all the time—to say nothing of limiting to the interests of a great portion of the audience. So when it’s appropriate for the story, we’ll go there. But more typically, if you think of PHOENIX as having the scale and range of something like THOR, you’ll pretty well be on the mark.

What can we expect from Madelyne's future in this new mutant era? I would like to see her in the mystical core, but also her image kind of got hyped with X-men 97 and most people outside our bubble knew her

TB: Madelyine will be showing up next in X-MEN: FROM THE ASHES #7 in a few short weeks, Fernanda.

My questions are: Is there any limit to how far a writer or editorial policy can go in trying to "destroy" a character without the risk of ruining them forever? Do you regret making any controversial decisions that have ruined a character or characters? Looking back, do you consider the editorial policy and/or writing regarding Cyclops, Bishop and Beast to have gone too far? And finally, about controversial decisions as bad as those regarding Bishop, Cyclops and Beast: do you consider that ignoring the storylines as if they never happened and moving on would be the best decision, or is it better to give the characters something like what Geoff Johns did to Hal Jordan?

TB: I’ve heard various versions of this question over the years, Joel, so you’ll have to forgive me if I have to chuckle a little bit. But the idea that any creator or any editor is trying to actively destroy the characters is completely laughable. This idea tends to be an outgrowth of the strange fan disconnect where they view the characters as more like real people than the actual human beings who create these stories. Believe me, nobody is ever looking to do dirt to any of the characters. That said, if we’re not challenging the characters and really putting them through a crucible, then we’re not giving you our best. These are super heroes, and so the whole point of reading is to see them struggle against overwhelming odds and somehow through skill and moxy and smarts and luck to find a way to come out on top. Also, these characters have proven to be extremely resilient over the years—they’ve survived a lot of bad stories and short-sighted decisions and it only ever takes one good story to dust them off and get them back into the fight. They aren’t fragile. and so, from a storytelling point of view, the worst, most boring thing that you can do is to be precious with the toys. They’re toys, they’re meant to be played with and knocked around and smashed up. I don’t know which “editorial policies” you mean when you speak of Cyclops, Bishop and the Beast—I suspect what you’re reacting to are specific story choices with which you disagree, which is fine; but this need to inflate them into “policies” is another thing that fans routinely do—but from my point of view, while there maybe have been stories over the years that I wish hadn’t been done, coming to them completely fresh I don’t find a thing wrong with any of those three characters that keeps them from being used and used well—and so that’s exactly what we’ll be trying to do in the months ahead.

Do you have any thoughts on these kinds of "ally" or more benevolent-neutral human characters in the X-Men narrative, and whether we can expect those dynamics to return in From the Ashes? I know you said in a previous interview Stevie Hunter would return, which was very cool.

TB: I don’t know about “allies” specifically, but we’re definitely going to see more X-Men and more mutants interacting with regular human beings right from the first page of X-MEN #1. Not just with X-Men but throughout the Marvel line, I think our heroes are only heroic when they’re saving regular folks, and I find comic books that only feature characters in tights to get pretty boring pretty fast. We need to be interacting with people of all stripes, allies and ambivalent and antagonistic all the same.

As a big Cyclops fan, I found his treatment during the Krakoa era quite disappointing, particularly regarding certain narrative choices that seemed inconsistent with his established characterization. Over the past 25 years, Cyclops has developed into a complex and pivotal figure, especially highlighted by his evolution into mutantkind's leader which started with Morrison's New X-Men until Bendis' Uncanny X-Men. The Krakoa storyline, with its depiction of Scott's relationships and leadership dynamics, felt to many fans like a regression from his previous development, I don't think he would ever accept to be part of a nation with a council with Mr Sinister (the evil nazi scientist who abused and experimented on him as a child) and Apocalypse, the evil genocidal maniac who ruined his son's life forcing Scott to send him to a bad future to save his life and possessed his body (and then used it as a weapon against his friends) leaving him severely traumatized in the process, there's also the fact that going from mutantkind's savior and leader to being once again beneath Xavier and Magneto felt very mean spirited and disrespectful to the writing of many great writers such as Matt Fraction, Grant Morrison, Whedon, Bendis, etc who worked hard developing his character and an era that many fans of the character consider to be his peak.
Given this context, can we expect the new era to realign his character with the growth and leadership qualities he exhibited before Krakoa?

TB: It sounds like you’re looking for a very specific flavor here, John, and I don’t know that I can quite promise you that. (And that comment about Cyclops being secondary to Xavier and Magneto being “mean-spirited” and “disrespectful” is very much the outlook I was talking about above. Cyclops is a fictional character, it’s impossible to hurt his feelings or make him feel bad.) What I can tell you is that we’re going to be featuring Cyclops front and center in X-MEN—beyond that, it’ll fall to you and readers like you to tell us how well we might be doing.

Since you've mentioned Taylor Swift, what three songs of hers do you associate with the three leading titles of the new X-era: Adjectiveless, Uncanny, and Exceptional?

TB: Wow, that’s a good question, Alex. I’d say that X-MEN is Red, UNCANNY X-MEN is Fearless, and EXCEPTIONAL X-MEN is 22.

Picture this: you're cruising through an art exhibit, minding your own business, when suddenly you’re sucked into a black hole of wacky, space-themed installations that make you question if you’ve stumbled into Elon Musk’s fever dream. It’s like someone mashed up the set of "Stranger Things" with a sci-fi epic, threw in a dash of "Keeping Up with the Kardashians," and sprinkled it with virtual reality pixie dust. Welcome to the world of space-themed art installations and exhibits, where reality takes a backseat and the cosmos gets an artistic makeover.
First stop, let's talk about these immersive installations that transport you to space without you ever having to leave the comfort of Earth. Imagine stepping into a room where the walls are giant screens depicting the surface of Mars, complete with rovers and holographic Martian landscapes. It's like "The Martian" meets "Inception," and you’re Matt Damon, but with better snacks and fewer existential crises. These installations often use VR and AR technology to make you feel like you're floating through the galaxy, dodging asteroids and high-fiving aliens.
Now, if you think that's wild, wait until you hear about the sensory experiences. Ever wondered what it smells like in space? Spoiler alert: it's not all starry nights and moonbeams. Some exhibits have taken it upon themselves to recreate the scent of outer space, which apparently smells like a mix of gunpowder, burnt steak, and raspberries. Yep, you heard that right. It’s like someone set off fireworks at a BBQ joint and then dumped a bucket of raspberries on the grill. Who knew space was a foodie’s nightmare?
But wait, there’s more! Interactive elements are where the real magic happens. Picture a zero-gravity room where you can float around like Sandra Bullock in "Gravity" but without the whole "drifting endlessly into the void" part. Or how about a cosmic dance floor where you can bust a move with intergalactic backup dancers, choreographed by none other than the Milky Way’s finest? It’s "Dancing with the Stars," but in space, and your dance partner is a sentient nebula.
Let's not forget the art itself. We’re talking about sculptures that look like they were crafted by an alien with a penchant for modern art and a really good WiFi connection. Think Jeff Koons meets "Star Wars," with a touch of "Rick and Morty" for good measure. One minute, you're admiring a sculpture of a supernova exploding into a million tiny disco balls, and the next, you're face-to-face with a giant, glittering black hole that somehow feels like it’s judging your life choices. It's deep, it's reflective, and it's probably questioning why you spent three hours last night watching cat videos instead of contemplating the universe.
These space-themed art installations aren’t just about eye candy; they’re also about making you think. They tackle big questions like, "What is our place in the universe?" and "Are we alone?" but in a way that’s less "2001: A Space Odyssey" and more "Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure." You might find yourself pondering the meaning of life while staring at a giant, rotating model of the solar system that doubles as a popcorn dispenser. It’s profound, it’s absurd, and it’s exactly what you need to remind yourself that art can be as limitless as the cosmos itself.
And let’s talk about the tech. Oh, the tech! These exhibits are like Comic-Con on steroids, with VR headsets that make you feel like you're piloting the Millennium Falcon and AR apps that turn your smartphone into a portal to another dimension. You can walk on the moon, zip through wormholes, and even have a face-to-face chat with a digital version of Neil deGrasse Tyson. It’s like FaceTiming your nerdy uncle, but instead of discussing family gossip, you're debating the likelihood of alien life over a virtual cup of space coffee.
The best part? These installations are as Instagrammable as they come. Your feed will be lit with selfies of you in astronaut gear, floating in zero gravity, or posing next to a giant, inflatable planet. You’ll get more likes than that one time you posted a picture of your avocado toast, and your friends will be hitting you up with, “OMG, where is that?!” faster than you can say space and art.
So, what’s the takeaway from this cosmic art escapade? Besides the fact that art and technology can create experiences that are out of this world (pun very much intended), it’s that we’re all just tiny specks in a universe that’s far more bizarre and beautiful than we can ever imagine. Whether you’re an art aficionado, a space nerd, or just someone looking for a good time, these installations offer a glimpse into the infinite possibilities of creativity and innovation.
In the end, space-themed installations and exhibits remind us that the final frontier isn’t just for astronauts and sci-fi heroes; it’s for anyone with an imagination wild enough to dream of the stars. So, strap in, hold on tight, and get ready for a ride that’s as unpredictable and entertaining as a reality TV show set in a galaxy far, far away. And remember, in the world of space and art, the sky isn't the limit—it’s just the beginning.

~Rayray~
It felt frustrating in Chongqing. I was rather stuck in Hechuan. I got accustomed to lajiao (spice) there. I was a Midwesterner at the age of 22. I was raised in Illinois. I became a manic—a Ferris wheel on fire—I was hiding under a bed in a hotel. Bold like napalm. Sometimes I can never stop. Even when I was 18 in a ward arguing with staff. Always want to fight things. That’s why I refused the meds and went on a plane from America to China. I was going to be an English teacher. And like a light switch, the change and SSRIs turned me into a mess. It would be my first time experiencing psychosis. My biggest issue. I never imagined I would be stuck illegally in a country suffering a psychotic episode in my early twenties.
Transplanted as pollen. I was left with a backpack and a cellphone. With a downloaded app called WeChat. I had arrogantly quit a university job in a fit. Spent the past months full of energy and not sleeping and neglecting myself, including not eating, to work on a novel. Not considering myself normally religious, I had obsessed over occult ideas during that time. Spending nights reading Aleister Crowley—haven taken a rusty pocket knife to carve a pentagram on my chest for spiritual protection.
I did not have funds to fly home. My visa was connected to my previous job, which meant I had now made it void. I was an illegal resident now in China.
I used a nifty app called WeChat as a messaging app, it allows users to find people near them that are also looking for others. It was like a virtual pond. All kinds of people, including sex workers trying to make things happen.
It could with luck be used to find people looking for people in terms of other kinds of work. It was helpful on many occasions for finding gigs working at English training schools and also finding work as a private tutor for people.
WeChat also works as a digital wallet.
Mania makes me irritable. Enough to tell a boss to fuck off. Thoughts ricochet within me. Bumper cars collide.
Being stuck and angry sucks. I scrolled and scrolled on a Huawei phone.
Absolutely pissed off at this world.
Pissed at the times police wanted to take me away for being a mess.
Sometimes women get pissed. Scrolling through their phones. Angry at their cheating husbands. It really is not that hard to have flair—be a damn white oddity. Like moths to a porchlight. Particles of sand through hands. This is when I first started the habit of it…
I rather go by a rather empty name of Rayray… with further explanation needed but now is not convenient. But I assure it is interesting enough and has some importance.
Habits are various in nature in how they attach to and eat at marrow—like atom bombs flashing as rays evaporating DNA—sets in a way less than human as putting myself in the cage of bad things taken up—my time as a former heroin addict is left as stretch marks on me in various ways. The same goes for the first time I found myself making arrangements with middle aged married women while desperation of waves whiplashed me like sandpaper hands coming at me to leave me in a tiring state of abrasion.
I had spent a night snuck away into a hotel. Found someone on a business trip. Instead of registering I waited to sneak along into the hotel elevator amongst a group of others attending the hotel, as I had no card. I headed to a designated room number. Originally I was sitting in a park. Playing on WeChat and found someone in their mid-thirties. Pictures were exchanged and I said no. She brought up paying for the hotel if I arrived. I agreed and went along.
When I met I washed up after her and we used our phones to awkwardly translate what we would do.
Room service knocked. I found myself hidden under a bed as I was not registered to be there.
It seems unusual that it was around this time I had started working on a story of my life as a heroin addict when I got caught up in my worse manic episode ever experienced during my age of 22. Finished half that story before never going back to it after my manic episode had ended. Now I am here writing about it and wondering if the same can happen again in the process of this work.
It feels extremely cliché I would write a novel about struggles with heroin addiction. It has been done many times. It’s just lame of me.
I feel like my thoughts are bit off. I left the hotel the next morning with the little money I did have on a debit card. Turns out the woman was from Taiyuan. It is a city in the northern part of China in the province of Shanxi—coal country with the worst air pollution in China. She has a colleague in Taiyuan that takes courses at an English training center. I was able to contact this place in the morning via a shared contact on WeChat given to me by the stranger I met that night.
Before I knew it I was sending my information and documents in my backpack at an internet café in a fax—with the intent that the woman agreed to share my information to the training center as she shared my contact to its hiring manager. It would land me a job that day that would help me out of my situation. Things turned not quite out as I expected though. I was shifted like a ball to somebody else to contact for a training center geared to teaching children.
I took what I had and ran off to a train station after taking the public transit. Unfortunately I was shit for money and could not afford a high speed rail pass. The slow train would take thirty-two hours to get to my destination. I would have taken a room with a bed but all I could afford was a hard seat for the travel.
Things were getting better for me in the circumstance considering I had found someone willing to take me for work despite my visa situation.
The thirty-two hour train ride was horrendous in some ways, but mostly I was in excitement despite the circumstances. I’m always giddy when disappointed. I moved up and down the aisle of the train. I could not speak mandarin, but it did not stop me from trying to interact with everyone. I talked many ears off during the train ride. I went up and down the aisle trying to interact as a moth to porchlights—I could not stop even if I had wanted to. I found great enjoyment the times I did get to sit across a table from somebody my age heading to Taiyuan from Chongqing. They were a university student returning to their hometown. Another passenger who sat beside me was an elderly man with hard boiled eggs, he was eating one after another one. I highly enjoyed each and every conversation that I had. It was like my head was a lightbulb wanting June bugs to bang against it with the intensity of Roman candles shot at my mouth of nicotine tinged teeth.

“If you find someone in Shanxi it is practice to pay the family money before you can get married. You would also have to already own a home and a car,” told my new friend across in their seat from me—a university passenger friend named David.

“Not necessarily what I was looking for. When is the next stop for snacks?” When the train stops I am able to get out and to have a walk onto the platform to buy various goods from the vendors to take back with me to eat along the ride to Taiyuan.

I had all my important documents tucked in my bag. This included my health clearance and obviously I made no mention of my mental health diagnosis or history to the doctor who had to evaluate me. My diploma and TEFL certificate were tucked away securely. A TEFL is a certificate that stands for Teaching English as a Foreign Language, it qualifies me to teach English as a second language abroad—it had only took a few months of taking a course online that I had paid for to obtain.
It is easy to be happy when you can trick yourself as your own con artist. Mania can make you deceive yourself. One can be doused in napalm and still not fully recognize what is actually going on. Same goes the flicking of psychosis. Even when I have nothing I find myself in my radiating irritation the most qualified of things—the velocity of my rhythm sets me out of an orbit.
The pressure cooker keeps me moving like a propeller at times. I finally arrived at Taiyuan. I arrived at the station to be greeted by Ryan my manager and his assistant Jennifer. We had our hello and introduction and they helped me get to a taxi that would bring me to my new apartment. I finally had a residence again. Apparently they were desperate for a teacher. The last teacher was from New Mexico and apparently they pulled a midnight run—that is when a teacher in the middle of the night disappears onto a plane back home without any notification of it.
The apartment was okay. On the fourth floor with no elevator, so it was a bit of a climb up a dark stairwell not lit correctly.
My job was a training center that had a location near Yingze Park in the center of the city. I was to be paid in cash via envelopes. I would assist in teaching kindergarten all the way up to high school aged students there in private lessons paid by their parents. I would also be assigned by my company to various primary schools in the city. I would take public buses to various schools paid by the company I worked for to give English lessons as I bounced around to various classrooms and schools in the city. Often I would receive a phone call to avoid going to work that day if my boss got inside input that officials would be doing raids to check foreigners’ visas that day.

A taxi ride would always be a thrill. Caused me nerves at first, but I came to love the flying in dangerous ways along a busy road. I remember a driver beeping their horn away as they drove onto the sidewalk to pass people. They treated the pedestrians as if they were in the wrong. I came flying in front of a primary school at its front gates. I was going to start teaching a first grade classroom and a kindergarten classroom. The way schools are set up is with a wall around the entirety of the exterior of the school. There is a gate at the front where one or two security will be waiting to let people in and out of the complex of the school.

I walked in front of the gate to greet the security. It was my first time with an assignment at this school. The guard said they had never seen me before and wouldn’t let me in. Not a big nuisance while I called my boss who then called the school to sort out the situation.

I miss the classroom so much. I ended up teaching in China for five years at various training schools. After returning to Illinois, I still taught as a primary school teacher in a public school.

I often feel extremely ugly from inside to my outside, but something is attractive there. This does not come just in terms of flirting and relationships—mania makes me a genuine lightbulb that flickers in a way that encourages the insects to me—everyone looks like a June bug—this is what I have come to understand about life. But that ugly does kind of stay like rot in a cavity that leaves a bad taste in the mouth that smells foul—hoping nobody catches the smell near me—it must tie into my struggles with bulimia over the years.

The same goes for my years as a teacher—in relation to the whole lightbulb phenomenon—I’m positive it is tied to mania and hypomania. The younger students always were fixated on the information I was teaching to them. I kept over the years methods taught to me and self-taught that I found extremely effective with younger students when it comes to teaching.
Everything was physical in learning in terms of intensity and ambition. When teaching my first grade classroom I would create flashcards for the vocab we would work on and implement in creating new sentences with. We would chant these words together in a way that made me a clown while teaching. Students would yell out the word that I presented with intense enthusiasm. As I walked by students it was expected that while they yelled out the word they would also physically hit the card. Later I would also work on physical gestures and acting out of vocab words and they would follow the actions and phrases with me.
I would often eventually turn the class into two teams. When students got an answer right I would behave comically and full of energy—I would give them a high five and pretend they were so strong with it that it hurt my hand in the process with much exaggeration—the students always seemed to never get tired of this act.
One game I would play involved drawing two stick figures with happy faces on them. Each figure would represent one of the teams for the classroom. I would draw a hungry alligator under the figures. Their faces would also be comical in appearance and full of exaggerations. Each figure had a parachute placed over them and four strings attached. During the game the students would race to say the word correctly represented on the flashcard or the correct word for the gesture I was making. The team that was not the slowest would lose a string on the parachute. If a team lost all four strings they would fall to the alligator who would eat them. The students found it hilarious with my actions involved in it. I would also draw tears and a person praying to represent anticipation and worry of falling down each time they lost a string.
I had a tooth game too. I would draw too large faces for each team. The team that could answer the flashcards and gestures the quickest would have a tooth drawn in their mouth. The team with the most teeth would win and it would look rather funny as the mouth grew and grew with an abnormal and extreme amount of teeth.
I often did other physical and interactive games like having students run to the word I showed a card to or gestured—each word would be attached to a point in the classroom on a wall.
I know it sounds grandiose, but the parents always seemed to think I was great at my job.
The word vulnerable means so many things to me. That word is like the coal to form the generator that makes the guiding energy for the ethics I follow in my life—I hold very strongly to these values that have developed on how to live—I can express it more later but I greatly attach a kind of Christian value system to it, which makes sense considering I was raised in a Lutheran household and always went to church, Sunday school, and went to my courses and went through my confirmation—everyone is a bit of a mop—some pick up clean water and others dirty or a mix of it—waiting to find the people to drain them voluntarily or involuntarily. I was born vulnerable. I walk pigeon-toed and grew up tripping on my feet—I speak with a soft feminine voice. Bipolar disorder makes somebody vulnerable. There was much vulnerability in being eighteen and hospitalized involuntarily for my first manic episode—tied to a stretcher. I have almost a sense of us vs them—the vulnerable and those that harm the vulnerable—take advantage of the vulnerable—I feel this is a very much Christian in the idea of the unfortunate are more holy than the rest of the bunch—children are like that in terms of being born into a cruel existence—a cruel existence I felt at times in my life and so many do—making sure harm does not come to those in need gives the light of purpose to go bright inside like a Christmas tree in my brain—this light of happiness and warmth. I never expected I would fall in love for teaching due to the antidepressant effect provided. It would become my career for a decade. Some grow up wanting to be a teacher, I became one by accident, desperation, and being saved.
Sometimes I inflate on self-hate like a helium balloon that needs to be tied to a wrist to not float away.
In my early teens I started struggling with bulimia and image. I remember when my mother caught me in the act. I was not offered help but criticized. I was called a girl for my problems and threatened to be taken somewhere to be fixed of my confusion. I don’t identify as transgender. I identify as a man that struggles with bulimia and happens to have feminine qualities.
I attribute it to circumstances that happened to me—a justification for the pain at times—an attack on aspects of bisexuality.
After a long day of work I did what my young self often did. I went clubbing with friends. I feel like even if I hide aspects of myself such as being bisexual, people can spot it regardless. I’m extremely secretive about it and not comfortable displaying that vulnerable aspect of myself.
My friend from England went with me. He was about six years my senior. Big guy. Tall. The clubs name was Maoye.
I always enjoyed the free drinks available to foreigners—it was done to attract Chinese clients, as the idea was foreigners being there would attract people.
Amongst the hot and sweltering crowd a man grabbed ahold of me. I felt stuck. I was taken off guard. Pushed and cornered. While on me I managed to push him off. But it all serves as a reminder of the vulnerability of my life.
A nail was placed into my hand—a constant burn and reminder of that vulnerability.

Part 2
From self-hate I can also be so grandiose. I am like a Christmas tree that is lit up. Sparklers so pretty that you cannot let go of them, even if it burns your fingertips and hurts.

From heroin to sex, you can smother the pain. You drain the ocean to fill a void in these times. It ties to mania as well. That restlessness and irritability is extinguished by the paradox of throwing kerosene to everything burning. I’m so grandiose to hide my insecurities, I mistake my misfortune as a mark of something ugly virtuous—the neon of vulnerability pulsating like a star within me. Swelling on a pain.

Bad habits. I want you to judge me and tell me what’s wrong with me. Give me a verdict.
Stress a trigger for mania, and I was stressed from the incident I had experienced at the club. I bloated like a tick to distract from locusts of thoughts that could not shut up with their commotion.
I had been sleeping around more than before. My brain was Christmas tree lights. I accelerated on a generator—I made a mixed episode worse.
Tease a disaster when you are heightened like a blimp. Full of hydrogen. Hoping to burn up ad rain down like napalm.
When the pretty candles on the Christmas tree are left untouched—not looked at like a kettle on burner that has been forgotten—the dry neglected tree will into a house fire.
I’ve had four attempts in my life so far.
When I attempt I don’t cry for help. I feel too vulnerable. I’m afraid.
Hate police and wards.
Downing pills.
My past failed attempts made me aware of everything done wrong before. The sleeping pills alone might not do what I was looking for at that time. I bought an electrical cable. This way if it failed I would still be unconscious and choked out by the cord—fail safe plan to end my life.
The words coming out of my mouth slowed down. I started getting second thoughts. Stuck my face towards the toilet bowl while on my knees. Sticking my fingers down my throat. Leaving blood vessels bursting in my eyes.
Went stumbling outside and waved a taxi down and asked to be taken to the local hospital.
Never expected finding myself checked into a psych ward in a foreign country.
Nietzsche has a quote in reference to chaos in life and how it is needed to create a star—this reference holds so much value to me. Sometimes stars hit together just right to create fate out of the worst of things. The ward lead me to meet the woman made of paper. She would one day become my wife. I would have two daughters with her. Forge together as soldiers to face the obstacles in life. Someone who would save my life during a future attempt when I was found unconscious from an overdose. The smartest and toughest woman I have ever known. Someone to build trenches with.
I liked it when she stuck that needle in me for an IV. It must correlate to being a heroin addict. The pushing of something in my vein correlates to happiness and purity.
The woman made out of paper was my nurse in the ward I was stuck in. What attracted her to the mess that is me I will never understand fully.
The woman made out of paper is named Lilu. She was one year older than me and one of my nurses at that ward in Taiyuan. She was from Zhengzhou—a city in the province of Henan that is based in the center of China. I am sure as the reader it would be nice to know why I call her the woman made of paper.
She struggled with her own demons. She also deserves much praise for her resilience and brains. When she was born she was raised by a family that adopted her and often neglected and abused her growing up. Her biological family is distant from her, even though she has an identical twin—they felt too poor to take care of her and made the choice that they needed to be less of one child as she also has an older sister—her twin got to stay with that family but she was given up and adopted. I am sure this must bother her even if she never will talk about it to anyone in her life—as she is one to refuse ever discussing emotions and feelings, as this is not her personality type—she is very much a fighter. I think most would struggle with wondering why they were the one let go of—it also must hurt her knowing that the family would have a son and keep him.
Despite all these circumstances, she graduated top of her class of four thousand students—Chinese high schools can be quite large serving a large region—they often serve as boarding schools. She was a smart and hardworking student. Circumstances never made her stop trying to be the best and moving forward and she never made excuses for herself. In university she also did well and got accepted at the most studious and hard to obtain nursing position at the number one hospital in Shanxi.
I have already ranted and gone on about my affection and feelings tied to heroin. Drinking of entire oceans to fill voids.
Paper is a void. It asks for calligraphy to be written on it to make braille. This way when fingers run over skin to tell its worth—the reason for its troubles on display—it forms connection through those words of declaration—the whining for why things are the way they are—the filling of a void like a heroin addict needing a cure to cure kicking legs—two papers come together to write upon one another—as a paper I am her typo—I stand as a falling mess with nerves like tripwire, I keep failing and losing my composer, while she stands stronger as a declaration that has been written on me, my very own typewriter—when I was chased I listened to her and joined as one. I wish and intend to always serve the woman made out of paper who has saved my life and has always been there for me, being so strong despite circumstances—amongst the wind of turmoil in life I follow along her path like a sail.
It was love at first sight for her but not for me. I had no interest in dating her at the time. I worked across the street of that hospital in an office building for a training center as a part time job. I would teach adults English who paid for private lessons near to Yingze park in the center of Taiyuan. She signed up for classes for me to teach her and brought me food on almost every other day that she had prepared. Eventually we found ourselves coupled fully.
As paper we write on each other—eat each other.

~Rayray~
It felt frustrating in Chongqing. I was rather stuck in Hechuan. I got accustomed to lajiao (spice) there. I was a Midwesterner at the age of 22. I was raised in Illinois. I became a manic—a Ferris wheel on fire—I was hiding under a bed in a hotel. Bold like napalm. Sometimes I can never stop. Even when I was 18 in a ward arguing with staff. Always want to fight things. That’s why I refused the meds and went on a plane from America to China. I was going to be an English teacher. And like a light switch, the change and SSRIs turned me into a mess. It would be my first time experiencing psychosis. My biggest issue. I never imagined I would be stuck illegally in a country suffering a psychotic episode in my early twenties.
Transplanted as pollen. I was left with a backpack and a cellphone. With a downloaded app called WeChat. I had arrogantly quit a university job in a fit. Spent the past months full of energy and not sleeping and neglecting myself, including not eating, to work on a novel. Not considering myself normally religious, I had obsessed over occult ideas during that time. Spending nights reading Aleister Crowley—haven taken a rusty pocket knife to carve a pentagram on my chest for spiritual protection.
I did not have funds to fly home. My visa was connected to my previous job, which meant I had now made it void. I was an illegal resident now in China.
I used a nifty app called WeChat as a messaging app, it allows users to find people near them that are also looking for others. It was like a virtual pond. All kinds of people, including sex workers trying to make things happen.
It could with luck be used to find people looking for people in terms of other kinds of work. It was helpful on many occasions for finding gigs working at English training schools and also finding work as a private tutor for people.
WeChat also works as a digital wallet.
Mania makes me irritable. Enough to tell a boss to fuck off. Thoughts ricochet within me. Bumper cars collide.
Being stuck and angry sucks. I scrolled and scrolled on a Huawei phone.
Absolutely pissed off at this world.
Pissed at the times police wanted to take me away for being a mess.
Sometimes women get pissed. Scrolling through their phones. Angry at their cheating husbands. It really is not that hard to have flair—be a damn white oddity. Like moths to a porchlight. Particles of sand through hands. This is when I first started the habit of it…
I rather go by a rather empty name of Rayray… with further explanation needed but now is not convenient. But I assure it is interesting enough and has some importance.
Habits are various in nature in how they attach to and eat at marrow—like atom bombs flashing as rays evaporating DNA—sets in a way less than human as putting myself in the cage of bad things taken up—my time as a former heroin addict is left as stretch marks on me in various ways. The same goes for the first time I found myself making arrangements with middle aged married women while desperation of waves whiplashed me like sandpaper hands coming at me to leave me in a tiring state of abrasion.
I had spent a night snuck away into a hotel. Found someone on a business trip. Instead of registering I waited to sneak along into the hotel elevator amongst a group of others attending the hotel, as I had no card. I headed to a designated room number. Originally I was sitting in a park. Playing on WeChat and found someone in their mid-thirties. Pictures were exchanged and I said no. She brought up paying for the hotel if I arrived. I agreed and went along.
When I met I washed up after her and we used our phones to awkwardly translate what we would do.
Room service knocked. I found myself hidden under a bed as I was not registered to be there.
It seems unusual that it was around this time I had started working on a story of my life as a heroin addict when I got caught up in my worse manic episode ever experienced during my age of 22. Finished half that story before never going back to it after my manic episode had ended. Now I am here writing about it and wondering if the same can happen again in the process of this work.
It feels extremely cliché I would write a novel about struggles with heroin addiction. It has been done many times. It’s just lame of me.
I feel like my thoughts are bit off. I left the hotel the next morning with the little money I did have on a debit card. Turns out the woman was from Taiyuan. It is a city in the northern part of China in the province of Shanxi—coal country with the worst air pollution in China. She has a colleague in Taiyuan that takes courses at an English training center. I was able to contact this place in the morning via a shared contact on WeChat given to me by the stranger I met that night.
Before I knew it I was sending my information and documents in my backpack at an internet café in a fax—with the intent that the woman agreed to share my information to the training center as she shared my contact to its hiring manager. It would land me a job that day that would help me out of my situation. Things turned not quite out as I expected though. I was shifted like a ball to somebody else to contact for a training center geared to teaching children.
I took what I had and ran off to a train station after taking the public transit. Unfortunately I was shit for money and could not afford a high speed rail pass. The slow train would take thirty-two hours to get to my destination. I would have taken a room with a bed but all I could afford was a hard seat for the travel.
Things were getting better for me in the circumstance considering I had found someone willing to take me for work despite my visa situation.
The thirty-two hour train ride was horrendous in some ways, but mostly I was in excitement despite the circumstances. I’m always giddy when disappointed. I moved up and down the aisle of the train. I could not speak mandarin, but it did not stop me from trying to interact with everyone. I talked many ears off during the train ride. I went up and down the aisle trying to interact as a moth to porchlights—I could not stop even if I had wanted to. I found great enjoyment the times I did get to sit across a table from somebody my age heading to Taiyuan from Chongqing. They were a university student returning to their hometown. Another passenger who sat beside me was an elderly man with hard boiled eggs, he was eating one after another one. I highly enjoyed each and every conversation that I had. It was like my head was a lightbulb wanting June bugs to bang against it with the intensity of Roman candles shot at my mouth of nicotine tinged teeth.

“If you find someone in Shanxi it is practice to pay the family money before you can get married. You would also have to already own a home and a car,” told my new friend across in their seat from me—a university passenger friend named David.

“Not necessarily what I was looking for. When is the next stop for snacks?” When the train stops I am able to get out and to have a walk onto the platform to buy various goods from the vendors to take back with me to eat along the ride to Taiyuan.

I had all my important documents tucked in my bag. This included my health clearance and obviously I made no mention of my mental health diagnosis or history to the doctor who had to evaluate me. My diploma and TEFL certificate were tucked away securely. A TEFL is a certificate that stands for Teaching English as a Foreign Language, it qualifies me to teach English as a second language abroad—it had only took a few months of taking a course online that I had paid for to obtain.
It is easy to be happy when you can trick yourself as your own con artist. Mania can make you deceive yourself. One can be doused in napalm and still not fully recognize what is actually going on. Same goes the flicking of psychosis. Even when I have nothing I find myself in my radiating irritation the most qualified of things—the velocity of my rhythm sets me out of an orbit.
The pressure cooker keeps me moving like a propeller at times. I finally arrived at Taiyuan. I arrived at the station to be greeted by Ryan my manager and his assistant Jennifer. We had our hello and introduction and they helped me get to a taxi that would bring me to my new apartment. I finally had a residence again. Apparently they were desperate for a teacher. The last teacher was from New Mexico and apparently they pulled a midnight run—that is when a teacher in the middle of the night disappears onto a plane back home without any notification of it.
The apartment was okay. On the fourth floor with no elevator, so it was a bit of a climb up a dark stairwell not lit correctly.
My job was a training center that had a location near Yingze Park in the center of the city. I was to be paid in cash via envelopes. I would assist in teaching kindergarten all the way up to high school aged students there in private lessons paid by their parents. I would also be assigned by my company to various primary schools in the city. I would take public buses to various schools paid by the company I worked for to give English lessons as I bounced around to various classrooms and schools in the city. Often I would receive a phone call to avoid going to work that day if my boss got inside input that officials would be doing raids to check foreigners’ visas that day.

A taxi ride would always be a thrill. Caused me nerves at first, but I came to love the flying in dangerous ways along a busy road. I remember a driver beeping their horn away as they drove onto the sidewalk to pass people. They treated the pedestrians as if they were in the wrong. I came flying in front of a primary school at its front gates. I was going to start teaching a first grade classroom and a kindergarten classroom. The way schools are set up is with a wall around the entirety of the exterior of the school. There is a gate at the front where one or two security will be waiting to let people in and out of the complex of the school.

I walked in front of the gate to greet the security. It was my first time with an assignment at this school. The guard said they had never seen me before and wouldn’t let me in. Not a big nuisance while I called my boss who then called the school to sort out the situation.

I miss the classroom so much. I ended up teaching in China for five years at various training schools. After returning to Illinois, I still taught as a primary school teacher in a public school.

I often feel extremely ugly from inside to my outside, but something is attractive there. This does not come just in terms of flirting and relationships—mania makes me a genuine lightbulb that flickers in a way that encourages the insects to me—everyone looks like a June bug—this is what I have come to understand about life. But that ugly does kind of stay like rot in a cavity that leaves a bad taste in the mouth that smells foul—hoping nobody catches the smell near me—it must tie into my struggles with bulimia over the years.

The same goes for my years as a teacher—in relation to the whole lightbulb phenomenon—I’m positive it is tied to mania and hypomania. The younger students always were fixated on the information I was teaching to them. I kept over the years methods taught to me and self-taught that I found extremely effective with younger students when it comes to teaching.
Everything was physical in learning in terms of intensity and ambition. When teaching my first grade classroom I would create flashcards for the vocab we would work on and implement in creating new sentences with. We would chant these words together in a way that made me a clown while teaching. Students would yell out the word that I presented with intense enthusiasm. As I walked by students it was expected that while they yelled out the word they would also physically hit the card. Later I would also work on physical gestures and acting out of vocab words and they would follow the actions and phrases with me.
I would often eventually turn the class into two teams. When students got an answer right I would behave comically and full of energy—I would give them a high five and pretend they were so strong with it that it hurt my hand in the process with much exaggeration—the students always seemed to never get tired of this act.
One game I would play involved drawing two stick figures with happy faces on them. Each figure would represent one of the teams for the classroom. I would draw a hungry alligator under the figures. Their faces would also be comical in appearance and full of exaggerations. Each figure had a parachute placed over them and four strings attached. During the game the students would race to say the word correctly represented on the flashcard or the correct word for the gesture I was making. The team that was not the slowest would lose a string on the parachute. If a team lost all four strings they would fall to the alligator who would eat them. The students found it hilarious with my actions involved in it. I would also draw tears and a person praying to represent anticipation and worry of falling down each time they lost a string.
I had a tooth game too. I would draw too large faces for each team. The team that could answer the flashcards and gestures the quickest would have a tooth drawn in their mouth. The team with the most teeth would win and it would look rather funny as the mouth grew and grew with an abnormal and extreme amount of teeth.
I often did other physical and interactive games like having students run to the word I showed a card to or gestured—each word would be attached to a point in the classroom on a wall.
I know it sounds grandiose, but the parents always seemed to think I was great at my job.
The word vulnerable means so many things to me. That word is like the coal to form the generator that makes the guiding energy for the ethics I follow in my life—I hold very strongly to these values that have developed on how to live—I can express it more later but I greatly attach a kind of Christian value system to it, which makes sense considering I was raised in a Lutheran household and always went to church, Sunday school, and went to my courses and went through my confirmation—everyone is a bit of a mop—some pick up clean water and others dirty or a mix of it—waiting to find the people to drain them voluntarily or involuntarily. I was born vulnerable. I walk pigeon-toed and grew up tripping on my feet—I speak with a soft feminine voice. Bipolar disorder makes somebody vulnerable. There was much vulnerability in being eighteen and hospitalized involuntarily for my first manic episode—tied to a stretcher. I have almost a sense of us vs them—the vulnerable and those that harm the vulnerable—take advantage of the vulnerable—I feel this is a very much Christian in the idea of the unfortunate are more holy than the rest of the bunch—children are like that in terms of being born into a cruel existence—a cruel existence I felt at times in my life and so many do—making sure harm does not come to those in need gives the light of purpose to go bright inside like a Christmas tree in my brain—this light of happiness and warmth. I never expected I would fall in love for teaching due to the antidepressant effect provided. It would become my career for a decade. Some grow up wanting to be a teacher, I became one by accident, desperation, and being saved.
Sometimes I inflate on self-hate like a helium balloon that needs to be tied to a wrist to not float away.
In my early teens I started struggling with bulimia and image. I remember when my mother caught me in the act. I was not offered help but criticized. I was called a girl for my problems and threatened to be taken somewhere to be fixed of my confusion. I don’t identify as transgender. I identify as a man that struggles with bulimia and happens to have feminine qualities.
I attribute it to circumstances that happened to me—a justification for the pain at times—an attack on aspects of bisexuality.
After a long day of work I did what my young self often did. I went clubbing with friends. I feel like even if I hide aspects of myself such as being bisexual, people can spot it regardless. I’m extremely secretive about it and not comfortable displaying that vulnerable aspect of myself.
My friend from England went with me. He was about six years my senior. Big guy. Tall. The clubs name was Maoye.
I always enjoyed the free drinks available to foreigners—it was done to attract Chinese clients, as the idea was foreigners being there would attract people.
Amongst the hot and sweltering crowd a man grabbed ahold of me. I felt stuck. I was taken off guard. Pushed and cornered. While on me I managed to push him off. But it all serves as a reminder of the vulnerability of my life.
A nail was placed into my hand—a constant burn and reminder of that vulnerability.

Part 2
From self-hate I can also be so grandiose. I am like a Christmas tree that is lit up. Sparklers so pretty that you cannot let go of them, even if it burns your fingertips and hurts.

From heroin to sex, you can smother the pain. You drain the ocean to fill a void in these times. It ties to mania as well. That restlessness and irritability is extinguished by the paradox of throwing kerosene to everything burning. I’m so grandiose to hide my insecurities, I mistake my misfortune as a mark of something ugly virtuous—the neon of vulnerability pulsating like a star within me. Swelling on a pain.

Bad habits. I want you to judge me and tell me what’s wrong with me. Give me a verdict.
Stress a trigger for mania, and I was stressed from the incident I had experienced at the club. I bloated like a tick to distract from locusts of thoughts that could not shut up with their commotion.
I had been sleeping around more than before. My brain was Christmas tree lights. I accelerated on a generator—I made a mixed episode worse.
Tease a disaster when you are heightened like a blimp. Full of hydrogen. Hoping to burn up ad rain down like napalm.
When the pretty candles on the Christmas tree are left untouched—not looked at like a kettle on burner that has been forgotten—the dry neglected tree will into a house fire.
I’ve had four attempts in my life so far.
When I attempt I don’t cry for help. I feel too vulnerable. I’m afraid.
Hate police and wards.
Downing pills.
My past failed attempts made me aware of everything done wrong before. The sleeping pills alone might not do what I was looking for at that time. I bought an electrical cable. This way if it failed I would still be unconscious and choked out by the cord—fail safe plan to end my life.
The words coming out of my mouth slowed down. I started getting second thoughts. Stuck my face towards the toilet bowl while on my knees. Sticking my fingers down my throat. Leaving blood vessels bursting in my eyes.
Went stumbling outside and waved a taxi down and asked to be taken to the local hospital.
Never expected finding myself checked into a psych ward in a foreign country.
Nietzsche has a quote in reference to chaos in life and how it is needed to create a star—this reference holds so much value to me. Sometimes stars hit together just right to create fate out of the worst of things. The ward lead me to meet the woman made of paper. She would one day become my wife. I would have two daughters with her. Forge together as soldiers to face the obstacles in life. Someone who would save my life during a future attempt when I was found unconscious from an overdose. The smartest and toughest woman I have ever known. Someone to build trenches with.
I liked it when she stuck that needle in me for an IV. It must correlate to being a heroin addict. The pushing of something in my vein correlates to happiness and purity.
The woman made out of paper was my nurse in the ward I was stuck in. What attracted her to the mess that is me I will never understand fully.
The woman made out of paper is named Lilu. She was one year older than me and one of my nurses at that ward in Taiyuan. She was from Zhengzhou—a city in the province of Henan that is based in the center of China. I am sure as the reader it would be nice to know why I call her the woman made of paper.
She struggled with her own demons. She also deserves much praise for her resilience and brains. When she was born she was raised by a family that adopted her and often neglected and abused her growing up. Her biological family is distant from her, even though she has an identical twin—they felt too poor to take care of her and made the choice that they needed to be less of one child as she also has an older sister—her twin got to stay with that family but she was given up and adopted. I am sure this must bother her even if she never will talk about it to anyone in her life—as she is one to refuse ever discussing emotions and feelings, as this is not her personality type—she is very much a fighter. I think most would struggle with wondering why they were the one let go of—it also must hurt her knowing that the family would have a son and keep him.
Despite all these circumstances, she graduated top of her class of four thousand students—Chinese high schools can be quite large serving a large region—they often serve as boarding schools. She was a smart and hardworking student. Circumstances never made her stop trying to be the best and moving forward and she never made excuses for herself. In university she also did well and got accepted at the most studious and hard to obtain nursing position at the number one hospital in Shanxi.
I have already ranted and gone on about my affection and feelings tied to heroin. Drinking of entire oceans to fill voids.
Paper is a void. It asks for calligraphy to be written on it to make braille. This way when fingers run over skin to tell its worth—the reason for its troubles on display—it forms connection through those words of declaration—the whining for why things are the way they are—the filling of a void like a heroin addict needing a cure to cure kicking legs—two papers come together to write upon one another—as a paper I am her typo—I stand as a falling mess with nerves like tripwire, I keep failing and losing my composer, while she stands stronger as a declaration that has been written on me, my very own typewriter—when I was chased I listened to her and joined as one. I wish and intend to always serve the woman made out of paper who has saved my life and has always been there for me, being so strong despite circumstances—amongst the wind of turmoil in life I follow along her path like a sail.
It was love at first sight for her but not for me. I had no interest in dating her at the time. I worked across the street of that hospital in an office building for a training center as a part time job. I would teach adults English who paid for private lessons near to Yingze park in the center of Taiyuan. She signed up for classes for me to teach her and brought me food on almost every other day that she had prepared. Eventually we found ourselves coupled fully.
As paper we write on each other—eat each other.

I’m referring him to my shitty job and he’s looking around because the startup is about to go belly up since funding is about to be pulled.
Their accounting team is 7 people and all of them have the title like “accounting staff”, “payroll staff”, etc.
He’s a CPA with 11 years of experience. He runs the dept and reports to the CFO. Everyone else reports to him.
Because of budget cuts, there’s only 1 miserable HR person for the entire company and things are very dysfunctional.
The CFO recommended that he apply out and put the title “controller” on his LinkedIn and resume. The CFO said they will vouch as a reference if needed. This is because they both know the company is failing.
Would this cause a big issue for him during background checks? Because it looks like title inflation when it isn’t. It’s a unique situation and im not sure what to tell him.
He can explain himself well and the CFO said they will vouch. The CFO themselves has a weird title that’s something like “Director of Planning and Financial, America US”. But they serve as CFO and report to the CEO.

Some Backstory:
I've been experimenting with the goal of being able to achieve NEO (None Ejaculatory Orgasm) and Multiple Orgasms. (of course with an interest in Energy Orgasm as well, but as a later goal).
Having read a lot of materials online and through books, I of course tried the popular method of doing a strong kegel just prior to PONR - a prevalent method that is often recommended online and also one that was described in Keesling's book "How to Make Love All Night" in which it says to practice edging up to say 40%, 60, 80% arousal and doing a strong kegel followed by a deep breath and relxation. However, when I attempted it, what I noticed was that even if I was stopping at say 60% arousal, the strong kegel I performed and held ironically skyrocketed my arousal in a rapid acceleration. And within seconds I felt the strong sense of semen being loaded up into the tubes that triggers the inevitable eruption/ejaculation. I remembered clearly that the 60% arousal wasn't anywhere close to the PONR and in all honestly, the arousal would've just stopped by itself if I just relaxed instead of performing a strong kegel at that moment. In hindsight, this is no surprise as a strong kegel is supposed to temporary trigger and increase the arousal. Of course I've tried kegeling hard closer to the PONR, at say 90%.... perhaps I didn't do it right, but it had never worked for me. My arousal always increased after the strong kegel.
Recent Experiment and Result:
After having read people's discussions in regards to the Relaxation Method, I've tried it myself and finally felt like I was onto something. Here I will describe my experience a bit but I also have some questions for those who have more experience.
Basically I did some belly breathing to relax my mind and body. Then the next step is basically getting to a very light arousal state. I usually listen to erotic audio during this, but some light touches around the genital region, top part of the shaft, head sometimes when it's required. Basically just to slowly jump start the subtle arousal feeling (penis can sometimes be erect but doesn't have to be). This is followed by slowly sending/gathering more energy down at the genital region (sacral chakra?)
Here you will have to experiment yourself, I think both inhaling and breathing into the stomach/belly rise as well as exhaling into the belly work. It takes a lot of experimenting to really feel what feels right for you and to do it without tensing your body - either raising/inflating the belly too hard or tensing the abs too much. After some experimenting, what systematically worked for me was a fast exhale through the nose which at the same time will raise/push out the belly a little bit. dont exert force on pushing the belly out, the force from exhaling from your nose is enough and the belly doesn't have to get pushed out/raised that much. at the end of that exhale/belly rise, relax the stomach and 'roll' into a nose inhale. (this whole process should feel like wave. the wave pushing up and out (from nose exhale and the subsequent result of slight belly rise) to relaxing and starting the nose inhale which will slowly relax your stomach and lower until it's time to exhale through the nose again. (i know earlier i've said that the belly rises with the exhale, but when you're doing this in a cycle the more appropriate description is that the belly rise coincides with the end of the inhale/from the belly drop and into the exhale of belly rise. an effortless transition of the breath. this will help you avoid tensing your body as well because it's very natural. This I feel is very pivotal to my progress and I hope I have described it well, because there's so many different ways to breathe and in the past I had a real hard time pinning down the exact way to breathe so I would breathe a certain way, then another, and sometimes I would feel a slight arousal build-up, and sometimes it felt like I was tensing my body too much, my abs too much, inflating my belly too much, etc.
I'm really not an expert, and I'm still at the very early stage of discovery. Can anyone confirm if i'm describing it correctly? OK, I will describe what I noticed next.
Doing the above rhythm of breathing seems to slowly gather energy to that region and you will feel the energy build up. It will feel like tingles and this will build up. What happened to me next was a pulsating feeling to my penis. up and down? in and out? it's hard to describe. but the pulsating feeling felt like my penis subtly bouncing up and down (i dont know if my penis actually was bouncing 'cuz i did this at night with the lights off... but it felt like that).
This is a stronger arousal feeling and a more pleasant feeling than the initial tingles. and once in a while i would feel a slight trickle of precum? liquid coming out? sometimes it might just be the feeling? not really sure.
After a while, the arousal feeling will subside and I would just start all over again. Lightly touch the genital region, the head, the top of the shaft. you can also do a few kegels once you start noticing some arousal feelings and the few quick kegels (dont have to hold, just squeeze and release) should make your penis jump up and down and quickly get you to a more erect/aroused state. after that, just do the rhythm breathing again and you will get to enjoy the same sensations as before.
My analysis and thoughts:
The breathing I am doing I believe is basically triggering a very natural reverse kegel throughout the whole process. and reverse kegel - unlike regular kegel allows continuous bloodflow into the penis unlike the regular kegel squeeze which even-though will give more more erection temporary, but will actually cut off the bloodflow if holding it for too long. In addition, reverse kegel relaxes the pelvic floor muscles and prevents your bc muscle from getting triggered when you get too aroused or when your penis starts ejaculating. So after these experiments, I am now a strong believer in the importance of reverse kegel. I think this is why I was able to keep riding this wave for hours without ejaculating. because the reverse kegel is keep the bc muscle in check and preventing it from tensing.
QUESTIONS to those with more experience:
This was already a very pleasant experience for me, but what was the pulsating feeling and the occasional precum/liquid oozing out feeling that I was experiencing? was that NEO? or some kind of mini orgasm? if not, what does a NEO feel like? Is it the physical feeling of penis pumping like during an actual ejaculation - albeit, without the semen? A 'Dry Orgasm'?
So far I have just worked on continuously getting to that state... and most times it would subside which will require me to build it back up again to experience that pulsating feeling. and that was wonderful. However, ONE TIME, I was able to keep the rhythm going for longer than usual and there was definitely a stronger buildup type of feeling in the penis. a stronger arousal, like my penis is completely filled up with energy and about to burst kind of feeling - even a little sharp sting at the tip of the penis (hole area?). Maybe it's from too much bloodflow to the penis? In any case, I relaxed at that point and just let the feeling subsided and continued to build up again.
Should I have kept going? was that the next higher arousal state and I should just let it continue to buildup and happen? Where does that lead? a dry orgasm (NEO) ? Any tip on what I should do next to achieve a dry orgasm (NEO)? and how to transmute that sexual energy into an Energy Orgasm that is felt throughout the whole body?
A side note: I'm usually a guy who cums rather quickly from masturbation. And in the past, even if i stop manually touching my penis in the hopes of lowering my arousal, the tingling arousal feeling would never truly go away even if i have lost my erection and am flaccid. It would remain in a very highly sensitive state and any moderate touch or attempt to edge again would inevitably lead to a ejaculation short after. YET, somehow this this completely different. I was able to build up the arousal using this rhythm and breathing approach and keep going for hours.

Some Backstory:
I've been experimenting with the goal of being able to achieve NEO (None Ejaculatory Orgasm) and Multiple Orgasms. (of course with an interest in Energy Orgasm as well, but as a later goal).
Having read a lot of materials online and through books, I of course tried the popular method of doing a strong kegel just prior to PONR - a prevalent method that is often recommended online and also one that was described in Keesling's book "How to Make Love All Night" in which it says to practice edging up to say 40%, 60, 80% arousal and doing a strong kegel followed by a deep breath and relxation. However, when I attempted it, what I noticed was that even if I was stopping at say 60% arousal, the strong kegel I performed and held ironically skyrocketed my arousal in a rapid acceleration. And within seconds I felt the strong sense of semen being loaded up into the tubes that triggers the inevitable eruption/ejaculation. I remembered clearly that the 60% arousal wasn't anywhere close to the PONR and in all honestly, the arousal would've just stopped by itself if I just relaxed instead of performing a strong kegel at that moment. In hindsight, this is no surprise as a strong kegel is supposed to temporary trigger and increase the arousal. Of course I've tried kegeling hard closer to the PONR, at say 90%.... perhaps I didn't do it right, but it had never worked for me. My arousal always increased after the strong kegel.
Recent Experiment and Result:
After having read people's discussions in regards to the Relaxation Method, I've tried it myself and finally felt like I was onto something. Here I will describe my experience a bit but I also have some questions for those who have more experience.
Basically I did some belly breathing to relax my mind and body. Then the next step is basically getting to a very light arousal state. I usually listen to erotic audio during this, but some light touches around the genital region, top part of the shaft, head sometimes when it's required. Basically just to slowly jump start the subtle arousal feeling (penis can sometimes be erect but doesn't have to be). This is followed by slowly sending/gathering more energy down at the genital region (sacral chakra?)
Here you will have to experiment yourself, I think both inhaling and breathing into the stomach/belly rise as well as exhaling into the belly work. It takes a lot of experimenting to really feel what feels right for you and to do it without tensing your body - either raising/inflating the belly too hard or tensing the abs too much. After some experimenting, what systematically worked for me was a fast exhale through the nose which at the same time will raise/push out the belly a little bit. dont exert force on pushing the belly out, the force from exhaling from your nose is enough and the belly doesn't have to get pushed out/raised that much. at the end of that exhale/belly rise, relax the stomach and 'roll' into a nose inhale. (this whole process should feel like wave. the wave pushing up and out (from nose exhale and the subsequent result of slight belly rise) to relaxing and starting the nose inhale which will slowly relax your stomach and lower until it's time to exhale through the nose again. (i know earlier i've said that the belly rises with the exhale, but when you're doing this in a cycle the more appropriate description is that the belly rise coincides with the end of the inhale/from the belly drop and into the exhale of belly rise. an effortless transition of the breath. this will help you avoid tensing your body as well because it's very natural. This I feel is very pivotal to my progress and I hope I have described it well, because there's so many different ways to breathe and in the past I had a real hard time pinning down the exact way to breathe so I would breathe a certain way, then another, and sometimes I would feel a slight arousal build-up, and sometimes it felt like I was tensing my body too much, my abs too much, inflating my belly too much, etc.
I'm really not an expert, and I'm still at the very early stage of discovery. Can anyone confirm if i'm describing it correctly? OK, I will describe what I noticed next.
Doing the above rhythm of breathing seems to slowly gather energy to that region and you will feel the energy build up. It will feel like tingles and this will build up. What happened to me next was a pulsating feeling to my penis. up and down? in and out? it's hard to describe. but the pulsating feeling felt like my penis subtly bouncing up and down (i dont know if my penis actually was bouncing 'cuz i did this at night with the lights off... but it felt like that).
This is a stronger arousal feeling and a more pleasant feeling than the initial tingles. and once in a while i would feel a slight trickle of precum? liquid coming out? sometimes it might just be the feeling? not really sure.
After a while, the arousal feeling will subside and I would just start all over again. Lightly touch the genital region, the head, the top of the shaft. you can also do a few kegels once you start noticing some arousal feelings and the few quick kegels (dont have to hold, just squeeze and release) should make your penis jump up and down and quickly get you to a more erect/aroused state. after that, just do the rhythm breathing again and you will get to enjoy the same sensations as before.
My analysis and thoughts:
The breathing I am doing I believe is basically triggering a very natural reverse kegel throughout the whole process. and reverse kegel - unlike regular kegel allows continuous bloodflow into the penis unlike the regular kegel squeeze which even-though will give more more erection temporary, but will actually cut off the bloodflow if holding it for too long. In addition, reverse kegel relaxes the pelvic floor muscles and prevents your bc muscle from getting triggered when you get too aroused or when your penis starts ejaculating. So after these experiments, I am now a strong believer in the importance of reverse kegel. I think this is why I was able to keep riding this wave for hours without ejaculating. because the reverse kegel is keep the bc muscle in check and preventing it from tensing.
QUESTIONS to those with more experience:
This was already a very pleasant experience for me, but what was the pulsating feeling and the occasional precum/liquid oozing out feeling that I was experiencing? was that NEO? or some kind of mini orgasm? if not, what does a NEO feel like? Is it the physical feeling of penis pumping like during an actual ejaculation - albeit, without the semen? A 'Dry Orgasm'?
So far I have just worked on continuously getting to that state... and most times it would subside which will require me to build it back up again to experience that pulsating feeling. and that was wonderful. However, ONE TIME, I was able to keep the rhythm going for longer than usual and there was definitely a stronger buildup type of feeling in the penis. a stronger arousal, like my penis is completely filled up with energy and about to burst kind of feeling - even a little sharp sting at the tip of the penis (hole area?). Maybe it's from too much bloodflow to the penis? In any case, I relaxed at that point and just let the feeling subsided and continued to build up again.
Should I have kept going? was that the next higher arousal state and I should just let it continue to buildup and happen? Where does that lead? a dry orgasm (NEO) ? Any tip on what I should do next to achieve a dry orgasm (NEO)? and how to transmute that sexual energy into an Energy Orgasm that is felt throughout the whole body?
A side note: I'm usually a guy who cums rather quickly from masturbation. And in the past, even if i stop manually touching my penis in the hopes of lowering my arousal, the tingling arousal feeling would never truly go away even if i have lost my erection and am flaccid. It would remain in a very highly sensitive state and any moderate touch or attempt to edge again would inevitably lead to a ejaculation short after. YET, somehow this this completely different. I was able to build up the arousal using this rhythm and breathing approach and keep going for hours.

Compilation of all possible frauds/scams taken place during NEET-UG 2024.
NOTE: All the below mentioned points are speculations with incomplete verified proofs, however it is possible that one/few/all of these frauds took place during the examinations, necessary proofs attached alongside.

1. Paper leak in Patna, Bihar:

Bihar Police arrested over 13 people involved in Neet Paper Leak and Distribution. Huge amount of cash, bank cheques and roll no. of candidates was recovered. However merely a few days later in a measly attempt to cover up the centre's incompetency Bihar Police released a statement that Papers weren't leaked probably on being pressured by the government. On 6th May NTA released a notice stating completely fair conduction of the exam even before Bihar Police gave their press release. News Article attached below
https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/bihar-probe-shows-neet-aspirants-paid-up-to-rs-50-lakh-for-question-papers-cops/articleshow/110061398.cms

1. 67 students scoring 720/720:

Even after OMRs were released, huge institutions advertised 3-4 toppers each, however after 4 June, institutes like Allen have over 20 toppers each, which they themselves didn't expect as the OMR sheets of the toppers clearly show most of them didn't get 720. Alakh Pandey, CEO of PW stated in a youtube video that a Haryana Student aged 19, scoring 670-680 according to OMR has scored 720 in the final scorecard.

1. Allegations of Server Tampering:

Telegram screenshots show that groups of people offer to increase marks by hacking into NTA servers to increase NEET marks. This is unverified but considering all that going on nothing seems too far. Alakh Pandey again said in a youtube video, his own students scoring barely 580-590 in final mocks 2 days before NEET have scored 705 finally. Video with timestamp below:
https://www.youtube.com/live/197DFezRkUg?feature=shared&t=1849
Telegram Screenshot:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gRf-Lxjjpxdu-No4sE_VEz35cQjnWZ56/view?usp=sharing

1. 6 or more Students scoring 720 from the same centre:

The calculated probably of such an incident happening is so low, that if neet is held for 1000 crore years then also its impossible for such an event.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ayBvnn40wgSIIk8Iv7wTMlcFhA-GkuqH/view?usp=sharing

1. Teachers giving neet inplace of students:

Students asked to leave omr sheet blank in Gujarat as Teacher fill in OMR later for 10Lakh rupees. 3 suspects arrested in Gujarat
Pic below
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1nnDuHQBlZqTjvGj8YuQqaljBVbXRHBNF/view?usp=sharing

1. Grace Marking:

According to NTA a supreme court order has been used to calculate grace marks. The 2018 hearing was for a Computer Based CLAT test for 1 Lakh students who had connectivity and hardware issue. Using the same Algorithm for a offline mass pen paper test, held for 23 Lakh students without modifications makes no sense. 0 transparency and information upon the number of grace marks awarded and the number of students receiving the said grace marks. Students scoring 626 on their OMR sheet have been given AIR 1, 720 marks which states atleast an 94 mark grace. The thought of this itself is comical. It is a national level exam and not pre boards that "grace marks" will be given.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bMGf2IqGKmKk1lf7VA3RD5D4Zgm6VOVX/view?usp=sharing

1. Extension of NEET registration upon recommendation of "stakeholders" aka politicians. The website was up and working for a large number of days and students could easily registration, Reopening the registration was uncanny and considering the current situations, highly suspicious.

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/education/news/neet-ug-2024-registration-extended-till-march-16-applications-cross-25-lakh-mark/articleshow/108361162.cms

1. Difficulty of Paper:

The paper was NOT easier compared to previous years, however much NTA might say, Physics had atleast 8 tricky questions and Chem atleast 5. It is really unlikely that the rank inflation is over 5x last years paper, which comparatively was much easier.

1. Sudden release of Results a few days after release of final answer key and "co-incidentally" on the day of results of Lok Sabha elections to not attract widespread negative press coverage and media outrage. The announced Date for result was 14 June.

I have given NEET first attempt this year and scored 650 marks, GEN. My rank is 30xxx. There is negligible probability of me getting a college in AIQ and might get some village college in SQ. Ironically I was looking at the closing ranks for Lokmanya Tilak, Mumbai when the NEET results came. Nothing to say now, NTA will keep releasing their bullshit press releases to try and douse the flames.

Compilation of all possible frauds/scams taken place during NEET-UG 2024.
NOTE: All the below mentioned points are speculations with incomplete verified proofs, however it is possible that one/few/all of these frauds took place during the examinations, necessary proofs attached alongside.

1. Paper leak in Patna, Bihar:
   Bihar Police arrested over 13 people involved in Neet Paper Leak and Distribution. Huge amount of cash, bank cheques and roll no. of candidates was recovered. However merely a few days later in a measly attempt to cover up the centre's incompetency Bihar Police released a statement that Papers weren't leaked probably on being pressured by the government. On 6th May NTA released a notice stating completely fair conduction of the exam even before Bihar Police gave their press release. News Article attached below
   

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/bihar-probe-shows-neet-aspirants-paid-up-to-rs-50-lakh-for-question-papers-cops/articleshow/110061398.cms

1. 67 students scoring 720/720:
   Even after OMRs were released, huge institutions advertised 3-4 toppers each, however after 4 June, institutes like Allen have over 20 toppers each, which they themselves didn't expect as the OMR sheets of the toppers clearly show most of them didn't get 720. Alakh Pandey, CEO of PW stated in a youtube video that a Haryana Student aged 19, scoring 670-680 according to OMR has scored 720 in the final scorecard.
   
2. Allegations of Server Tampering:
   Telegram screenshots show that groups of people offer to increase marks by hacking into NTA servers to increase NEET marks. This is unverified but considering all that going on nothing seems too far. Alakh Pandey again said in a youtube video, his own students scoring barely 580-590 in final mocks 2 days before NEET have scored 705 finally. Video with timestamp below:
   

https://www.youtube.com/live/197DFezRkUg?feature=shared&t=1849
Telegram Screenshot:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gRf-Lxjjpxdu-No4sE_VEz35cQjnWZ56/view?usp=sharing

1. 6 or more Students scoring 720 from the same centre:

The calculated probably of such an incident happening is so low, that if neet is held for 1000 crore years then also its impossible for such an event.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ayBvnn40wgSIIk8Iv7wTMlcFhA-GkuqH/view?usp=sharing

1. Teachers giving neet inplace of students:

Students asked to leave omr sheet blank in Gujarat as Teacher fill in OMR later for 10Lakh rupees. 3 suspects arrested in Gujarat
Pic below
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1nnDuHQBlZqTjvGj8YuQqaljBVbXRHBNF/view?usp=sharing

1. Grace Marking:

According to NTA a supreme court order has been used to calculate grace marks. The 2018 hearing was for a Computer Based CLAT test for 1 Lakh students who had connectivity and hardware issue. Using the same Algorithm for a offline mass pen paper test, held for 23 Lakh students without modifications makes no sense. 0 transparency and information upon the number of grace marks awarded and the number of students receiving the said grace marks. Students scoring 626 on their OMR sheet have been given AIR 1, 720 marks which states atleast an 94 mark grace. The thought of this itself is comical. It is a national level exam and not pre boards that "grace marks" will be given.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bMGf2IqGKmKk1lf7VA3RD5D4Zgm6VOVX/view?usp=sharing

1. Extension of NEET registration upon recommendation of "stakeholders" aka politicians. The website was up and working for a large number of days and students could easily registration, Reopening the registration was uncanny and considering the current situations, highly suspicious.

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/education/news/neet-ug-2024-registration-extended-till-march-16-applications-cross-25-lakh-mark/articleshow/108361162.cms

1. Difficulty of Paper:
   The paper was NOT easier compared to previous years, however much NTA might say, Physics had atleast 8 tricky questions and Chem atleast 5. It is really unlikely that the rank inflation is over 5x last years paper, which comparatively was much easier.
   
2. Sudden release of Results a few days after release of final answer key and "co-incidentally" on the day of results of Lok Sabha elections to not attract widespread negative press coverage and media outrage. The announced Date for result was 14 June.
   

I have given NEET first attempt this year and scored 650 marks, GEN. My rank is 30xxx. There is negligible probability of me getting a college in AIQ and might get some village college in SQ. Ironically I was looking at the closing ranks for Lokmanya Tilak, Mumbai when the NEET results came. Nothing to say now, NTA will keep releasing their bullshit press releases to try and douse the flames.

I have been reading to read this webcomic for a while now, but just never got to it. What finally pushed me was that one post praising the webcomic for having the ML not just be some cold Duke of the north 🥱 so I binged up until fast-pass; I would have watched ads to read the extra four chapters but I’m dropping it.
Brief summary as to why I am dropping it so you don’t have to read my entire rant because it’s all over the place: 🚶‍♂️The ML (Iseop) is really immature 😭The webcomic follows the rest of the cliches except for stone-cold ML 🙂‍↔️I can’t stand any of the characters besides FL (Mingyeong) and her family 🫥I hate the dynamic between ML and FL 🥱Too many pointless flashbacks 🔪Most important: I can’t stand that ML 💀💀
Lemme get the positives out first too: Ijbol’ed three times🙂‍↕️ Virgin galaxy brain ….
Anyways! Anything past this will contain spoilers, but it shouldn’t matter because U really don’t recommend this unless you enjoy consuming basic junk webcomics.
The first thing that ehh kinda bothered me happened in the third chapter. Iseop and Mingyeong meet up with his super intimidating boss grandpa. He is sitting next to her and is witnessing his grandpa being intimidating and Mingyeong shaking and being terrified, WHICH HE MENTALLY ACKNOWLEDGES. He was then about to spill the beans and Mingyeong had to pinch him, grab his arm, and cough 💀 just for him to get the hint. Worse is that people in the comments were like “wow love how the ML protected the FL wow” EVEN THOUGH HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHAT WAS UP!
Another thing that bothered me were the constant “10 years ago” flashbacks like I GET IT 🗣️ HE COULDN’T MAKE HIS MOVE WITHIN THAT TIMESPAN SO INSTEAD OF BUILDING COURAGE HE BUILT HIMSELF UP WITH LIES AND HATRED
I still persisted to catch up, even though I wanted to drop it at quite a few points 🙂‍↔️ my main issue ME PERSONALLY stems from Iseop. It got me thinking about a love story from the ML’s perspective, and a life lesson. I start with what I don’t like about Iseop:
🧑🏻Basic ML design 🧊Considered the hottest man that has ever walked on Earth 👶🏻Petty and immature at 34 🧌Hypocrite (is upset that other people are overworking FL despite him already doing that) 😬Embarrassingly so possessive that it’s pathetic 🌫️No other meaningful relationship besides his family 🤡Inconsiderate (is aware of FL’s situation yet makes her life more difficult at random points) …
The life lesson that lowkey has some truth, which goes something like: “make sure you marry someone beautiful, because you’ll get less angry with a pretty spouse compared to an ugly one”. Now I don’t subscribe to that lesson personally, but this webcomic got me thinking about that. Mingyeong is being tormented and overworked by Iseop for practically no reason but petty 💀 despite all that, she still sees him as hot and could potentially be with him. At one point, she describes him as an angry yet cute dog. The dog may growl and bark a lot, but he’s cute, and it really seems like she’s cool with that 🙂‍↔️ all because he’s cute. If Iseop looked like a bum, he would be enemy number ONE; however, he is incredibly good looking zooweemama so it’s fine 🥵
Another issue: their dynamic and attraction. It really seems like they only like each other physically and that’s it 🥱 Iseop doesn’t really seem interested in what Mingyeong says and gets annoyed when she talks a lot. Mingyeong feels bad that Iseop’s past and uses it to justify his actions. I don’t even know what they have talked about that isn’t work related or casual convo 🚶‍♂️Iseop is 😳😳😳 whenever Mingyeong doesn’t wear her glasses or HER MASSIVE BOOBIE HONKER BONKERS THATS INFLATED WITH THE AUTISM THAT HE CANT HANDLE 🤯🤯🤯🤯
Another issue: the cliches. I already named a few when pointing out Iseop, but here’s some in general: 🤑Rich, handsome, and top dog ML x Overworked, broke, and desperate FL 😷ML being an asshole towards FL for little reasons, but FL bickers back at times so she’s powerful 🗣️ML has no friends; Manager Kim (no not that guy, but imagine) does not count, all he does is look cute and drive 🤔FL being much more desirable after makeover ESPECIALLY when glasses are off 😱ML can’t believe that FL is so dumb that she can’t realize that other men are approaching her 🫠Second ML who starts off as a green flag, but since ML is a dickhead, 2ML has to be much worse than him so that ML can look better. I wish he didn’t turn out to be creepy, not because I wanted him to be with FL, quite the opposite actually. I wish they had a friendly and familial relationship, but of course, we need to make the ML look better somehow 🤪
To finish off, I thought this webcomic was going to be more mature yet have some goofy little moments, but I was so wrong. I am not someone that’s mature 😭 as you can see by how I text, it’s quite the opposite; yet, this webcomic really tested me 🫠 It’s true that the ML expresses emotions and struggles (especially the latter, which is quite rare for a webcomic like that to even display), but those two factors don’t make you for the rest of the dogshit that’s everywhere 😷
In conclusion: just because it looks good doesn’t mean it’s good, Webtoon’s comic section is brain dead, and if you want specific recommendations, ask me 😳 I am 100% certified and I do not stand for that bullshit

Why do we have space ships (In fiction) that have a recognizable top and bottom? Space is a true 3D volume, with little or no gravity, there is no need to have a ship with a bottom hull. It could be very dangerous as well, in case of attack, or even, in docking and undocking at space stations. Should we not have a vessel that could be used in ALL directions?
If you would, remember all the space ships in fiction, from Star Trek, to Star Wars, to Battlestar Gallaxia, to all the comic books you might have read or seen. In all those forms, you see that each ship had a top side and bottom side that has less structure than the top side. (The only exceptions would be the Borg Cube and the cylinder of Whales in Star Trek, and the Death Stars in Star Wars, as spheres.) Should we not have a ship that has, either, identical sides, top and bottoms, or no identifyable sides?
Let us redesign a Space Ship. As the external "skin" of the vessel is up to the whims of individual designers, we will leave that for another time. Let us, instead, focus on the internal spaces of a ship.
First, we will start with gravity. All ships and other vessels on Earth has both a top side and a hull side, or bottom, because we have only the gravity of Earth. As so, we need a place to stand and work. The exceptions could be, aircraft and submarines, but those are still subject to Earth's gravity even if they are in a 3D environment, thus the need for a bottom hull. In space the gravity is supplied via "grav-plates" mounted into the floor of the deck we are standing on. We could mount those G-Plates in the floor, on the walls, and on the ceiling to maximize the floor space for any working space. We would have the means to utilize each room to it's fullest. The benefits to such a design; twice as many people could be fitted into any given space. With the G-Plates, you could modify the gravity in small places to facilitate the movements of heavy supplies and weights. Those with the need to have lighter gravity, could work, eat, sleep, play in an easier manner. Manufacturing could be revolutionalized where weight could be controlled either by lightening the load or by adding extra weight to tools for better use. (Think of a small press being able to mimic the larger press because of the gravity under the press.) One man, with an eye for the momentum, could load a large load by hand and work the load with the aid of variable gravities.
With G-Plates, a generation ship could pack in double or triple the colonist, using all the surfaces of any room alloted to them. With combat ships, more attack vessels, more infantry, more supplies, more guns. With a combat carrier, more light attack craft, fighters, drop shuttles, supply shuttles, and etc. With freighters you can imagine the extra space for pallets and cargo containers. The list can go on and on, you get the picture.
Next; The second point would be the Bridges. Yes that is plural, as in more than one bridge for each vessel over a certain size. The smallest vessels would not need more than one, but the larger ones would need at least two. An Alpha and Beta bridge for larger craft, with an extra Charlie bridge for combat vessels.
The Alpha bridge would be the main bridge for all movements. There, the Captain has his chaipod, with navigator's pods at hand. Communications pods, engeneering pods, exterior close in gunnery pods for clearing debrie from the path of the vessel, would be in front of the Captain's chair. At the front of the bridge would be the Pilot's pod, they would have the task of piloting the craft with input of the bridge crew behind them.
Around the edges of the bridge, would be the sensors. Interior, exterior, short, medium, and long range sensors that range the gamut of sensors. Interior for the security, exterior, for the inspection of the hull. The others would range from infrared to ultraviolet, radio, long range telescopes, and radalidar scopes.
A word about the "pods." Each station on the bridges would be contained in a airtight pod. Each sensor suite, each gunnery suite, navigation, engeneering, Pilot and Captain. These pods would become liferafts in the case of abandon ship, but, during work times have a complete sensor suites working site. Some pods would be double occupantcy though most would be single occupant. Each will have air and water supplies along with a rebreather plant, along with some long-term food supliments. The Captain's pod would mate with one of the gunnery pods, the Pilot's pod will mate with one of the engineering pods. Others can mate with whomever, and all will have the capability to combine with the rest for a large life raft. This is also the case for the rest of the crew in their own work and sleeping pods. In times of crisis, the pod would be closed around the crewman in an airtight, heat and cold insulated, life pod. In combat, these pods would seal around the crewman when BattleStations is called. All the pods give some armor protection against scrapnel and electrical shocks.
The pods for the Pilot and the Captain are extensively more complex than the rest of the pods. The Pilot can fly and fight the vessel from his seat. He has a more comprehensive comms package and a Navigation computer too. The lead engineer can tandem in behind the pilot to become his backseater (GIB -- Guy In Back.) The Captain will have the same pod as the Pilot, because, He is the relief for the Pilot in rotation. Except, he has more comm equipment, and a computer to keep track of all the pods locations. His GIB is a security officer, though his pod has flight controls for both pods as an addition. NOTE: The only way to become a Captain is to spend a great deal of time in the Pilot's seat. Ergo that is a rule that is NEVER broken.
Next we will cover the Beta Bridge as the third on this list.
Beta Bridge, is a small, armored space that is outfitted with one pilot's pod, one navigator's pod, one engineer's pod and a commander's pod. The commander here will be the Executive Officer and several Flight officers under him. This bridge will be as far from the Alpha Bridge as possible and still stay in the ship. It's duty is to be a fall back or back-up for the Alpha Bridge in case of disruption of the Alpha's duties. As the XO is also the Ship's Captain replacement, he also has pilot time. The Pilot will be equal to the Number one Pilot on the Alpha Bridge, though, he will not fly the ship unless the Alpha is incapacitated. It will be manned at all times the Alpha Bridge is manned. In some cases, and at the Captain's discretion, it can be manned when the Alpha Bridge is shut down or when not underway, as a precaution. Such as in when moored at an undesirable location, or during crew shifts. It's only used to pilot the ship and not to fight, as to escape with an incapacitated Alpha Bridge. The only difference in the crew of the Beta bridge will come in the Charlie Bridge.
That brings us to the fourth new item on this list. The Charlie Bridge, OR , to be more precise, The Combat Bridge.
The Combat Bridge will only be on combat ships, such as, Carriers, Battleships, and even smaller ships of the line. This Bridge will be in a central position of the ship, and will be heavily armored. The layout will be almost exactly the same as the Alpha Bridge, with the exception that the sensor suites will also be heavy gunnery stations too. Behind the Captain's pod and the wall there will also be an Emergency Medical Operating Room attached to the backside of the wall. Across the hall from the EMOR will be the Damage Control Central Station. There, the DC personnel will be in armored suits ready to patch and/or repair damage that has occured. The DC personnel are the only ones to be able to move in and on the ship during Battlestations. They are in suits that protect them from vacuum, heat/fire, and extreme cold. They are armored against scrapnel, cuts, and electrical shocks. They carry their own breathing apparatuses and can work in vacuum for extended periods of time. During normal transit times and at rest in port, it is called Charlie Bridge, with a minimum of a crew of two. (One Pilot and One Commander.) When Battlestations is called, the crew of Alpha Bridge will rotate back, in groups, to the, then called, Combat Bridge. The Pilot and Commander will relinquish their post to the Captain and head Pilot. When all personnel are in position, all tandem pods will combine into one- two man pod.
NOTE: When Battlestation is called, Alpha personnel will remove themselves from their stations and move, by groups, back to the Combat Bridge. The last two, the Pilot and Captain, will set lock-down on Alpha after confirmation of Combat Bridge at the ready and then exit thru the door. When the Captain closed the door and locks it, the atmosphere in Alpha will be evacuated and it will be in vacuum until the Captain or XO puts in the correct codes to the door. This is to reduce the possibility of a sustained fire. At the same time and when all crew are shown in their pods, with the exception of DC crews, all atmosphere will be evacuated via air vents to air bottles to leave the ship enviroments as a vacuum for the same reasons. All crewmen will have and wear as a uniform, a vacuum rated suit, with an inflatable hood for an air carrying helmet.
NOTE:// I know this would require extensive tailoring to include all the necessary equipment to sustain a breathable suit. But, it would only have to last for an hour, or even have connection ports to refill portable air bottles. signed Magebard4165
More to come, if you wish to further this thread. Just leave me a note in the comments. Thank You.

I miss you. I breathe in hollow oceans of oxygen, breathe out dispirited sighs, and I miss you. I remember, all of it, forever knitted into the backdrop of my mind. And I miss you. I encourage my thoughts to drift, to breathe in your smell, once again; the heady-salt-you taste of your skin that soothes and devastates my insides... And I miss you. I miss you as the sun's rays flood life into my eyes, and feel remorse for all the moments in which we never stood a chance to meet. Lifetimes pass before my eyes - a cruel infinitesimal flipbook accordion, while incidental moments of contentment allow me to forget that you aren’t coming back to me, this time.
I miss you as the day fades away. I find myself observing the moon as she rises; the blinding angel of unfathomably dark skies. She welcomes desires of the heart like no other. The quiet dreams… those that ring with gentle sincerity. Wishes that pry open our eyes… not merely keep us caged inside, in some complex dichotomy of petty lies and false, shiny pride. The simple truths that stir up buried emotion… softly dissolving unwarranted beams of deflection.
These are no tricks of the light, for she gracefully holds onto our shackles for the night. Illuminating our quietest dreams - simple, or steep - the ones we tuck carefully back into covers as we drift off to sleep. She seems to hold them tenderly, with faultless empathy - she expresses her love the way that you alone first did for me. I open my heart to her, face to face, and wish so desperately that I wanted, even the tiniest bit, to wipe this heart clean from your name.
I miss you when my mind wanders astray... remembering your firm, gentle hands, wide enough to encompass my perpetually rigid shoulder blades - rhetorically asking with clear, knowing eyes if I’m sure that I’m okay. An inviting, omniscient eyebrow, raised in heartfelt skepticism, would reach near-comically above your eyes. I yearn perilously to relive memories of your fingertips painting glorious brushstrokes of comfort deeply into my palms and thighs, my fingers smoothing delicate circles into the soft tender of your belly, or earnestly kneading limbs into muscle and sinew, to unsnarl buried tension I wish you wouldn't carry with such pride. I miss so terribly the unfaltering way your eyes were never the first to leave mine.
Painstakingly reliving memories, over and over again, lest I forget our brazen, heavenly bliss forged in guileless sin, awakened with the long-desired freedom of permission to press my soul tightly to yours; my skin against your skin. Devotional temples built of flesh and bone... we collide into the primordial dance of shifting muscles, melding in tandem like we were made for just this; exploring sweet treasures found in teasing out each rich, dulcet tone. God forbid I forget the apocalyptic first or sorrowful last time that we kissed. Your touch was soft as a brook, yet burned with holy fire... I wish, and I wish, that I wanted, even a little bit, to forget the heart-wrenching beauty of your soul, rolling in rhythms bespoken of a divine masochist. I dream of all the different versions of your pleasure I could draw out with my heart, body, and mind. If only, if only. If only. If only we’d had more time.
I miss you when I’m feeling soft. Aching to hold, to bestow my adoration with painfully sure fingertips and promises of devotion flowing through my soul. I’m happy, then I miss you; I grieve our denouement when faced with each softer, wiser version of myself you may never get to meet. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you gifted me your ace while I kept my cards hidden behind the flimsy illusion of fate. Why did you have to be too good to be true? So unbearably right for me... and I, for you.
For as long as I live, at the very least, I promise you this: I will never forget the light breathing life back into our eyes; you spoke your dreams and they harmonized into a luscious symphony, for our holy-grail prize is the empyrean way your deepest dreams are eternally woven with mine. I will never forget the merging of our wounded hearts… creating something sweet out of individually broken parts, which might as well have been defined by the jaded ring of defeat and self-perpetuating misery. I remember how you thought I was there to help you heal; it's much more fitting to know, now, that's what you also did for me. Hands crafted for love, with the heart of a saint, a Tartarean soul, and a delightfully subterranean mind... your exhilarating essence fights through trials of hell to walk so free in the light.
and yet. And yet, and.... and yet. There's no just resolution for this cutthroat twist of fate. The only words that could satiate this pain are: tell me you miss me too, and you understand why I can't help but wait. You will find your way back home to me no matter how grueling the journey. No matter how long it takes. I will miss you in the vibrating silences between sounds, in quiet caverns where I escape to contemplate. And I miss you in each parting of my lips; reminding me where yours belong. I will miss the way your happiness is bound to my fatal red thread; needing the way you lead me back into my soul's truest song.
I miss your schoolboy bouts of joy and the instinctive way our minds, bodies, and souls clash-blend so masterfully... authentic connection; we were poetry in motion, art raised into life. Holy fools with souls of the wise, we were sacrilegion itself and the most sacred, fine wine. I swear, I'd be content to listen to you talk at unforgivable length, each and every passable day. I would do it all with easier smiles alighting upon my face if you would just come home and reclaim your place.
I swear that I could be brave enough to put on the cape, even when we're both afraid. I would shoulder the weight this time, not leave you stranded at sea... I owe you that and so much more: it's becoming overwhelmingly clear to me. I could be healed enough to trust, this time, dismantling towers of mirage, unveiling well-masked fear and uncertainty. Or at the very least, I could do my best. We could put these tearful convictions to the test to discover once and for all whether or not they really ought to be laid to rest.
I know, you're not coming back for me, yet I wait for you, still - against all rational mind. It makes little sense, yet little else means more, to me... my pure and Plutonian love, it is my steadfast belief that you, and you alone, hold my key.

Quirk name: Comic Boi
Quirk type: Mutant/Emitter
Quirk range: Close Range
Description:
Comic Boi is a Quirk that permanently changes the users skin pigmentation to be covered in sound effects like those in mangas and comic books. Whenever something touches these sound effects they create an effect related to what the sound effect itself is like "BUMPF" repelling things as if they are punched or "SIZZLE" burning things like a stove or fire.
The user can also change and move the sound effects across their body to pretty much anything they can imagine, this also lets the user create sound effects which have a more mental or non-physical effects like a sound effect that is "HEY!" can grab the attention of people close to the user and creates a sort of feeling like someone just greeted you, the user can use such mental sound effects to affect the state of mind of other people using effects like "!!!" or "(°<°)/" which often indicates some kind of reaction on people.
The user can even affect themselves with the sound effects by simply touching their own body, since there is no limit on what physical objects this quirk can affect the user could easily use sound effects to for example propel themselves throught the air or using sound effects to make objects simply bounce off them.
Weaknesses:
Even though this quirk has a wide spectrum of posdibilities there are it's limits like the user needing to come up with sound effects and imagining them in action, also a sound effect can't just be whatever the user desires so they can't just have "Steal Quirk" or write the name of any Quirk or effect they want and make it happen.
This quirk is also always active wheter the user wants it or not which can cause zrouble since every singly thing they touch is affected by their sound effects and if the just accidently bumb into someone and they forgot to remove or change a sound effect that does things like burning or slashing the user might very well end up killing someone.
Another thing which isn't really a weakness is that since the user is covered completly in colorfull words they might be hard or even nausiating to look at what might cause discrimination for the user due to their weird look.
(As a side note I find it hilarious if there would a scenario where someone enters the room and they just the user cooking eggs and beacon on their belly)

One of the more inconsistent things around the Emperor is the inflated balloon of power around him, from the perspective of the original trilogy he didn't show too much and was thrown into the reactor by a one-armed tired Vader. Meanwhile, the comics and prequels make him the most powerful person in the galaxy who killed almost all the members of the Jedi council.
And everything would have been git if I hadn't remembered that from the perspective of the following films series and comics he had the most disappointing death. Because how come he didn't break free from the grasp of a one-armed battle-weary Luke Vader. This guy could have broken free at any moment and killed Vader meanwhile he flashed like a fool with force lightning and died in the stupidest way possible, and I'm speaking now from the perspective of this knowledge of the character we have now. Until now I don't understand how Vader kept him so long with that stump he had instead of a hand. If a character is as powerful as he is said to be then he doesn't die like that, and while from the perspective of the 80s it was understandable because this universe wasn't as expansive as it is now and we didn't really know the Emperor's history, after all these books, comics, movies and TV series it just looks funny.
Because of this, every time I see some new great achievement Palpatine as a force user I wonder how this guy was able to do so much but was not able to free himself from the grip of Vader's injured stripped hand.