#Paradox Unrelenting Grasp

[mushroom-for-art]

Paradox Bewear or Unrelenting Grasp. I was going to call it like Iron Grip as a joke as well it hold to be like Iron and playing on/stealing the Violet paradox naming system but I decided to change it ultimately.

Unrelenting Grasp has aspects of all the bear type pokemon, with Pangoros pants and hair, Ursarings rectangular features and less noticeable/the weakest connection but claws like Beartic (tho they had the least inspiration in this design ultimately as its just a bear with an ice bear and crotch fluff)

I imagine they're like an ancient feral cave bear equivalent a theorised common ancestor perhaps or something.

They were gonna have a violet future paradox form which was the absolute most neutered form of any kind of bear a robotic bear companion thing meant to be cute with everything they disliked about the others taken out of it. It had floating hands like Iron Hands so it couldn't crush kids in its arms, stumpy legs so it couldn't run at speeds ect

Ultimately I didn't have the energy to finish it and it was too among us shaped and I knew it'd get memed to hell and I just couldn't work out now to make it look robotic futuristic or a nice color scheme so you get past form only lmao

#my art #pokemon #fakemon #Paradox pokemon #Paradox Bewear #Paradox Unrelenting Grasp #My fakemon #I personally really like the shiny he's like a honey bear pot or something #And also looks kinda old and ugly but in an endearing way

[velvetm00light]

Snowed In

photos: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: The entire BAU team decides to take a vacation to snowy Vermont. After a day of traveling together and being the last of the team to show up to the cabin, Spencer and y/n are exhausted and in need of quality time with their friends. When alcohol and games are mixed, Spencer decides to get y/n worked up before sneaking into her room that night to show her what can happen when the sexual tension between them finally snaps.

Warnings: smut, choking, alcohol consumption, others in the house, teasing, sneaking into her room, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual tension, games (Twister).

A/N: I know it's freshly November but that's close enough to Christmas for me. This idea has been plaguing my brain for literal days now so I just couldn't resist the itch to write this. I also don't want to keep a masterpiece away from you guys especially since I probably won't be able to write for a week after this :(. But, as always, I hope ya'll eat this tf up like I did while I was writing it. <3 Also, I think I like the 3 pic banner so much better than the gifs so I might start doing that :)

THE ICE THAT COATED the sidewalk became a mirror, the concrete beneath twisting into the twin of the gloomy, gray sky above. Y/n's frost-bitten fingers tremble against the ebony wool coat she was wearing tightly wrapped as close to her body as she could possibly pull it. The unrelenting wind bit at her cheeks, her skin raw and burning.

She and Spencer had decided to walk through the cabin's yard rather than risk slipping on the glassy ice, which proved rather asinine as both of their boots and luggage wheels caked in packed snow and mud the deeper into the yard they hiked, slowing their pace. She peered ahead at Spencer under her heavy hood. His chestnut boots a bit more worse for wear than hers, considering he's worn the same ones probably every day of his life.

One hand shoved into his pockets, the other gripped onto the handle of his suitcase so tightly his knuckles blanched. His head dipped against the sharp wind. If she had any energy left by the time they finally reached the cabin's wooden front door, she was going to one hundred percent rub it in his face. They had a negligible argument prior to arriving at the cabin - Spencer completely hellbent on not needing a winter coat, and y/n explaining that Vermont's climate is completely paradoxical to Virginia's at most times of this year.

When they had left Virginia, the sky had been a meager blue, and the wind had grown a bite to it, indicating the impending winter but not intense enough to warrant them to avoid being outside at all costs yet. Temperatures had called for slacks and the usual sweater under a proper coat during their last few cases prior to their very welcomed vacation time. She just wanted to laugh in his face at how right she had been proven in the 5 minutes since they'd parked their rental car in the snow-packed driveway.

When they finally reach the cabin door, Spencer fumbles with the brass knob, his frozen fingers barely able to grasp it enough to twist and open. The door opens without difficulty and y/n almost slams into Spencer's back in an attempt to flee the harsh cold of Vermont.

Y/n hastily shut the door behind her. She and Spencer didn't bother unwrapping any scarves or unbuttoning any coats until they could feel their extremities again as they made their way into the expansive living room, leaving their suitcases by the door. A fresh pine tree lay decorated in lights and garland in the far right corner, the smell of pine welcome in her nose, a large window hiding behind it, climbing halfway up the logged wall before stopping and becoming more logs, with a smaller window on top, shaped to a slope to match the cabin's sloping ceiling.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope sit perched on the chocolate-colored couch to the left of the pine tree turned Christmas tree, wooly sweater sleeves pulled over their hands as they gently hold warm mugs of hot cocoa, most likely.

"You're finally here!" Penelope calls, setting her chipped mug gently on the coffee table just a leg lengths away from the couch. Emily and JJ copy Penelope's actions as they rush over to greet the two latecomers.

"We thought you guys might've gotten stuck or frozen to death or something," Emily explained, engulfing y/n in a hug so tight she thought her lungs might have to escape her body entirely to relieve the pressure.

"With the way Spencer drives, I think we almost got stuck like 4 times," y/n teased, resulting in a malicious side eye from Spencer but giggles from the women in front of her.

"To be fair, we only actually got stuck once. We made it in one piece so I don't see the issue."

Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the rest of her energy spent on the single ridicule, her mind unable to continue the back and forth.

"The rest of them are in the kitchen," JJ explains, leading them through an archway embellished with fake leaves and fairy lights.

Rossi's back is to them as he pulls a steaming mug from the microwave. When he finally turns to spot y/n and Spencer, the last two team members to make it through the treacherous countryside of Vermont, he places the mug on the kitchen island. "I was just making you guys some cups of cocoa, but it's the packet kind. I would've made it from scratch if I thought I could survive another trip outside."

The team erupted in chuckles, "Yeah, I wouldn't suggest going out there, Rossi. You might freeze on the spot," Morgan laughed.

"Hey, I'm old, but I'm not that old."

Spencer reached delicately for the mug resting on the kitchen island, sliding his fingers through the handle and carefully lifting it as to not spill it over his hand. He turns to y/n and holds out the cup for her.

"I'll take the next one," he smiles. She gives him a sweet smile back as she takes the hot cocoa from him, "Thanks, Spence."

Y/n rose to sit upon a marbled counter, her hot cocoa clutched into her hands, greedy for the warmth it brought to her numbed fingers. Her legs swung, feeling restless despite the exhaustion that weighed her entire body down.

Vacation had began to seem like a myth considering serial killers never cease to kill and each and every person in the kitchen with her had the same mindset when it came to their work. People need us. She can't remember the last time one of her coworkers had taken a vacation or even just a day off as if they were avoiding it like a contagious disease.

She had to admit, it did almost make her feel uncomfortable to think about taking a vacation. She didn't hold much trust in others to do their jobs for them. But, nevertheless, she was grateful to finally have some time to spend with her favorite people doing nothing but watching cheesy Christmas movies and playing board and card games like she was a child again.

With all her might, she pushed down the lingering guilt she always seemed to feel when she wasn't working towards catching a bad guy. Villains always need their heroes, and she didn't like the idea of letting the villains run rampant for too long.

Her internal battle must have shown on her face because Spencer laid a secretive hand over hers as he leaned against the countertop she sat upon. He tilted his face upwards to look at her, silently asking her, what are you thinking about? Spencer seemed to be the one person who could read her like a book, despite y/n keeping the book of her life and emotions locked, shut, and completely hidden away from everyone else.

She shrugged, not important. She diverted her gaze from his, the weight of his causing her mouth to part slightly, wanting to spill everything running through her mind - but she clamped her mouth shut because that is definitely not something she wanted to do in front of her entire team.

She could feel his gaze still on her, reading the emotions on her face like a book, as if he looked long and hard enough, her thoughts would display themselves above her head. "Stop profiling me, weirdo," she whispered, just loud enough for only him to hear.

He rolled his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up into a smile.

"How was the drive, Spence? It seems like you guys got the worst of this incoming storm," JJ stated, her mug had been retrieved from the living room coffee table and now rested in her cupped hands as she rested her elbows on the kitchen island.

"Dangerous," y/n muttered. Spencer playfully elbowed her. "Hey! You can't tell me you didn't fear for our lives at least once during that drive."

Spencer didn't bother responding, knowing she was right. The drive hadn't been the worst it could've been, but the snow had began flurrying as they arrived to the airport, y/n's hood pulled so far over her head she kept her eyes locked on Spencer's boots in front of her to lead her. The roads were slick with snow and ice, and the winding strip of road leading up to the isolated cabin had not been the easiest or safest to navigate.

"It's a good thing you guys got here before it got too bad, we might have to really get comfortable with each other considering we'll most likely be stuck here longer than we want," Emily suggested. The team nodding in agreement. Y/n was grateful she had remembered to bring every card and board game she could get her little hands on - Monopoly, Cards Against Humanity, even Twister. She couldn't wait to get the team drunk and convince them to play Twister.

"Speaking of, I think it's time we whip out the alcohol and the games," Emily smiled, as if reading the thought directly from y/n's mind, taking a bottle of top-shelf Tequila by the neck and wiggling it in the air.

"Best idea I've heard all day," Rossi stated.

Y/n and her team made their way into the living room, spiked hot cocoa in hand. She relaxed in the middle of the couch after grabbing her Cards Against Humanity box from her suitcase by the door, Spencer to her right and JJ to her left. Rossi and Hotch taking the two reclining chairs and pulling them forward to reach the table. Emily gracefully sitting on a pillow on the floor, Morgan settling for sitting directly on the carpet, and when Spencer attempts to offer Emily his spot, she dismisses him with the wave of a hand and a suggestive glance towards y/n.

Spencer repositioned himself again on the couch, the meaning of Emily's glance fully understood.

Y/n takes the liberty of pulling the cards out of their designated box and separating them into piles scattered across the coffee table, making sure every has access to a pile of white cards. As she finishes, the conversation about who goes first and random rules to add immediately sparks. Considering the instructions clearly read that whoever pooped most recently was to be the one to start.

The conversation turned argument continued on longer than any thought necessary, laughter filling the cabin to the brim. "Well if we're really trying to have a good time, all the losers each round have to drink."

Once in agreement, the team finally quieted as Hotch reluctantly grabbed the black card on the top of the stack in the middle of the table and read it aloud.

Y/n's head began buzzing as they were a fourth of the way through the stack of black cards, the game no where within bounds of stopping. Her limbs finally felt loose from being curled up in a plane and car seat for hours, trying to avoid looking at the snowy danger they had to travel through.

The entire team shed their worries, stresses, and found it in themselves to be in the moment. Everyone had equal amounts of pain lacing their chests and stomaches from laughing too hard at cards played and also equal amounts of disgusted faces and a little bit of gagging after the rules began to increase the more alcohol consumed - they had began ranking everyone's answers by the fourth time around, the person in first being exempt from drinking anything, the person coming in last being required to take a shot instead of a sip of their drink. Y/n seemed to be on a losing streak.

Luckily, her team was too engrossed in the game to notice when she took smaller shots than she was supposed to. She didn't want to be totally inebriated in the first few hours of her first vacation in God knows how long.

Spencer's arm was outstretched on the couch behind her, his other hand holding his cards secretively, knowing that y/n would a hundred percent be trying to take peeks now and then.

Once they had almost completely blown through most of the black stack, y/n ceased the opportunity. "I brought Twister!"

The entire room cheered, and she stumbled over to her suitcase to grab it out. It was quickly set up within a minute and to her distress, they decided to make teams and compete, obviously.

The girls split into a group and the boys into another. Emily and Hotch started first, Emily easily more flexible than Hotch, his leg unable to twist towards the red dot in the corner, resulting in him falling over and a chorus of laughter echoing off the logged walls.

"Spencer, Y/n, you guys should do it next!" Penelope gasped. "You're both so lanky, it'll be a close match."

Y/n's heart beat against her throat and she felt the rush of heat bloom in her neck and rise towards her still raw cheeks. She took a deep breath, not willing to show how much of a reaction she had at the thought of being tangled up with Spencer.

JJ and Rossi finish their round, JJ sneakily leaning into Rossi enough to knock him over, giving the girls a 2 point lead. Y/n and Spencer stroll leisurely towards the edges of the Twister map. An arched brow climbs her forehead, "I hope you're ready to lose."

"In your dreams," he smirks, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

As Penelope spins the pointer, she begins to call out body parts and colors. Within minutes, y/n and Spencer are a heap of tangled limbs, her back resting against Spencer's chest as she's bent over to reach her left hand to yellow, Spencer's hand next to hers on green. Her hair obstructs some of the view of the colored circles beneath them but the look of Spencer's flexed, muscular forearm on the side of her head does little to ease her rapidly beating heart. His breath is hot on the nape of her neck, coiling a heat in her middle she desperately attempts to push down.

"I think I enjoy you being under me," he whispers onto the skin of her neck, sending shivers rattling down her spine. As Penelope calls out left hand blue, she racks her gaze around the mat beneath them.

She can practically hear the rush of blood in her ears when she finally sees the blue between her strands of hair. The closet blue dot is down towards her legs, considering her right hand was already on the blue next to her left, requiring her to bend her hips upward. She takes a deep breath and reaches her hand to the spot, her ass rising upward into Spencer's hips.

She can hear the catch of his breath as she tilts upward to get into her position. The next color is called too soon after, resulting in Spencer's right leg moving to the left side of y/n's body, their bodies no longer touching in the way that spooled heat further into her center. Their limbs fight for purchase on different colored spots as the game continues, their teammates shouting at both of them, the game obviously riveting from above, but completely distracting between the two players.

After a few more minutes of twisting her body in ways she never knew she could, her arms trembled as she reached towards a yellow. Refusing to let a man who probably weighed the same as her beat her in a game of Twister, she fought through the shaking of her body and painful stretch of muscles she probably haven't used in years.

She could feel Spencer's body tremble underneath her, placed in almost the same position as before, just on the opposite side this time. "I think I enjoy being on top better," she whispered in the same way Spencer did to her.

His body tensed under hers before he dropped to the floor, crowning y/n the winner of quite literally a battle to exhaustion in a drunk game of Twister.

The women on her team cheered and hugged each other before reaching out a hand to pull her from her spot on the ground in which she collapsed onto right after Spencer did. "That was probably the longest game of Twister in the history of Twister games," Penelope laughed.

Y/n and Spencer plopped onto the couch together, content to watch Penelope and Morgan go against each other from their comfortable spots on the couch. As Emily called out colors and body parts and the teams cheering on their teammates, Spencer leaned over to y/n's ear. "If you're gonna be on top of me I think it'd rather be able to see you."

Her pulse quickened, the heat that as been building inside her since the start of their Twister match is beginning to come to an edge. Get a grip, she chastised herself. They were on vacation with their entire team for crying out loud, now was not the time for flirtatious advancements or sexual tension.

"In your dreams," she murmured, trying to keep the want in her voice caged down, but with the way that Spencer's lips lifted in a smirk told her she didn't do a very good job at it.

"Certainly."

She couldn't get her eyes to leave his face, lowering them to his mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from saying anything stupid.

He noticed her do this and his expression turned hungry as he watched her work her bottom lip between her teeth. It was one of the things that always set him off without her even realizing. Her nervous tic could be taken as flirtatious by someone who doesn't know her. Even though Spencer knows better, it still causes tension inside his pants every damn time she does it.

"If you keep doing that I'm not going to be able to stop myself," he growled lowly.

The sexual tension between y/n and Spencer was almost palpable as the team said their drunken goodnights and stumbled to their respective rooms. Y/n climbed into her bed, pulling the quilt atop her closer to her face. Her thoughts swam, unable to stop them from completely consuming her with thoughts of Spencer - of his body on hers, his breath on her neck, and god damn the stupid comments he made, knowing they were working her up and torturing the hell out of her all night as they continued to play other games with their friends.

Her thoughts fell away, like birds falling out of the sky, as she heard a low sound. She sat up in her bed, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness swallowing her room, in attempt to see what the noise was. Her door opened gently and a figure quietly stepped through the threshold and shut the door behind them, obviously trying not to wake anyone up.

"Hello?" Y/n called out softly, at first she thought it was Penelope, coming to tell her some new gossip she overheard somewhere. But, it wouldn't make any sense of her to sneak in if she thought y/n was asleep. It most definitely wouldn't have been Hotch, Rossi, or Morgan and the only reasonable explanation for any of them to be in her room is if they mistook her door for a bathroom, but she doesn't believe they'd be that quiet about it. Emily was so inebriated she almost didn't make it to her bed by herself.

A nervousness began in her chest as the figure stalked closer to her bed and didn't answer her. Before she could react, lips met hers hungrily. She gasped into their mouth, an opening they took to their advantage as they slipped their tongue between her lips and battled hers for dominance. She supposed that if this was someone trying to kill her, they wouldn't have kissed her first and damn it was a good kiss.

She allowed the kiss to overtake her senses, small moans rising out of her throat as her bottom lip was taken in between teeth and tugged. When her bedroom intruder finally broke their kiss, they were both panting. "I did warn you I wouldn't be able to control myself," the voice growled. Oh.

"Spencer?" Y/n whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Well I wasn't going to wait for you to come to me," he murmured, dipping his head to her neck, trailing sloppy kisses downward to her collarbones. Her fingers tangled into his soft curls, a moan slipping from her lips as he teased her sensitive skin.

"Shh," he shushes her, his voice vibrating through her entire body. "You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"

"Spence..." she whimpered.

His fingers played with the hem of her tank top, only the thin fabric separating him from her breasts.

"I can't get you out of my head and it's been driving me insane," he muttered against her bare skin, his fingers trailing lightly over her exposed lower abdomen, sending goosebumps over her skin. "I can't stop thinking about that pretty little mouth wrapped around me, or the sound of your moans that I coax out of you in every possible way I can, or the sound of you screaming my name as you come."

Y/n feels breathless at his touch, the skin beneath his lips burning with heat. "Are you okay with this?" He asks after y/n's silence.

"Absolutely," she whimpers. "Don't stop, please."

As if that was his undoing, he tears her tank top from her skin, y/n almost unable to raise her arms up in time to get it over. As soon as her tank top is thrown to the floor, his lips latch onto her peaked nipple and a cry of pleasure gathers in her throat but she clamps her lips shut, not wanting to let anyone hear. He continues to work her nipple in his mouth, using tongue and teeth, mixing pain and pleasure.

Her fingers grip his hair tighter, her back arching to bring his mouth as close as it could possibly get to her exposed breasts. Without budging from her nipple, he removes her pants swiftly, gripping her hips with his hands to swing her under him.

Her eyes can just barely make out his face in the dark hovering above her, her body begging for more. She squirms underneath him, hardly able to contain the desire coursing through her blood. His smile turns feral as he realizes just how badly she wants him to keep going.

He lowers himself antagonizingly slow, leaving soft kisses along her naked body until he reaches her inner thighs. He settles himself comfortably in between her legs as she widens them to give him complete access.

He slides his tongue gracefully through her folds and she lets out a gasp. "I've been aching to taste you," he groans against her center, gliding his tongue from the bottom up again. "You taste fucking delicious."

His pace starts out tame as he saviors every whimper that leaves her mouth and the taste of her on his tongue. Another gasp escapes her as he slips a finger in, wasting no time in gently sliding it in and out, curling it upwards to hit her sweet spot just right. She bucks her hips, riding his tongue and finger as her pleasure builds in intensity, her breathing ragged.

Suddenly, his tongue and finger abandon her and she lets out a whine of disappointment. "Someone's needy," he chuckles lowly. "I'd rather make you come with me buried deep inside you."

Spencer quickly undresses himself and gently lines up with her center. He slides the tip through her folds, making her arch her back towards him, her silent plea.

Without hesitation, he slips inside her and releases a groan. "You're so wet for me," he smirks. She can barely see his face, but she knows he has a smug look on it. It's as if he's known how crazy he makes her, how she has fantasized about this very moment before.

His thrust starts out delicate, like he's afraid he's going to break her apart. She wraps her legs around his waist, an attempt to pull him as deep as possible. "Careful," he growls against her neck as he teases her skin once more. "I don't want to let loose just yet and hurt you."

"What if I like it rough?"

"Tell me how you want it, then." A challenge.

"I want you to fuck me dumb."

"Your wish is my command," he smiles against her skin and immediately latches onto her neck, sucking and pulling on her delicate skin. His hands grip her waist to keep her steady as he pounds into her, the sound of his bare thighs hitting hers. He places a hand on her throat and gently squeezes, as if he knows exactly how she likes it.

"Fuck.." Spencer growls, unhooking her legs from his waist with his available hand and using his weight to lift her legs above her head and driving in deep. Y/n claps a hand over her mouth to keep her screams in, her other hand gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles turn white. "You're taking me like such a good girl."

"Fuck, Spencer," she whimpers under her palm.

"Say my name again."

"Spencer..."

"Louder."

"Fuck, Spencer!" She cries as he hits home, her pleasure reaching it's breaking point hastily.

"Open your mouth," he demands. She releases her palm from over her mouth and opens wide, Spencer wasting no time in sticking two fingers on her tongue. She closes her lips around his fingers and slides her tongue over their length. He groans in pleasure as she continues to tease his fingers.

"Come for me."

Those words were her undoing as she falls over the edge, Spencer following her over and her body releasing the pent up desire. Her entire body trembles as ecstasy floods her.

He releases her legs but stays positioned inside her, face hovering just inches above hers. Their panting breaths tangle with each other in the air between them. "You took me like such a good girl," he coos, cupping her cheek gently and rubbing her heated skin with his thumb.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Y/n whispers, trying to control her wildly racing heart.

"Of course."

"I've thought the same things," she confesses, pulling him by the hair to meet her lips again. "And I hope you're not too tired for another round."

An animalistic smile grows on his face as he pauses their kiss, "I'm going to tear you apart."

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds x reader #bau!reader #bau x reader #bau #criminal minds fic #david rossi #penelope garcia #jason gideon #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!oc

[dailyoyo]

GGs ranked by how quickly they would resort to murdering their friends if they were stuck in a timeloop (Real edition)

my sincerest fucking apologies to pseud for what ive done to their blog.

THAT SAID: on account of this being very long and very grim to the point that most of it is too grimdark to even be funny anymore i am putting it under a readmore. This is a half-joke half-serious post about the ggs getting stuck in a time loop and murdering each other so like. you get what you click on.

also these are all specifically based aroudn our interps/jet set radio paradox obviously so bear that in mind lol

RULES TO MINIMIZE VARIABLES: only one of them knows they're in a time loop, each is a separate scenario where the listed character is the one who knows and remembers. they do not know why the loop is happening and they do not know how to stop it. the span of time the loop happens is relatively normal, though dangerous enough events happen (maybe just normal jsr stuff) that people may accidentally die during it depending on the exempt character's actions. everyone who dies during a loop is alive again when the date rolls back over. everything is back to square one. no consequences. 14. Pots pots is a dog, even if a highly intelligent one. assuming he can even grasp the idea of a time loop (unlikely) i believe it is even further unlikely that he would recognize it as a bad thing. very possible he just stays in the time loop contentedly forever 13. Soda it takes like a week (or until the first "someone dies and comes back") for him to even notice he's in a timeloop (general apathy/depression?). but when he does notice he's pretty together about it. obviously he wants out but he's literally got all the time in the world, he doesn't need to do stupid traumatic shit just to see what happens. he's got this.

12. Jazz WHY WOULD MURDER EVEN BE PART OF THIS EQUATION WHAT THE FUCK? shes not gonna kill anybody and would think its super fucked to even raise the idea. how is that supposed to help. That said. she does keep repeatedly explaining she's in a time loop almost every loop and it is getting to the point that she kiiiiinda wants to strangle someone or two as stress relief because by god is she stressed. she Won't, she's got more sense than that, but. But…

11. Boogie i think she never really goes full murdermode or anything and the very idea of that happening would shock and disturb her, but surprisingly early on she gives into the impulse to push one of the other ggs into traffic (it doesn't matter anyway, right?) and watches them get ran over. and she's like O_O oh jesus fuck that was horrible. and she never kills anyone again during the loops but it HAUNTS her and makes her nervous abt the idea that she COULD do it again.

10. Gum she's mostly level headed, i think, so she wouldn't be quick to resort to madness. but give her enough time and she starts feeling desperate and does some scary shit in the hopes that maybe somehow they'll at least remember next time. like more than anything i think it's the isolation of it that gets to her. maybe she doesn't progress to outright intentional murder, maybe she only tries it once or twice to see if it fixes anything (it doesn't). while she doesn't go full-blown axe-crazy she DOES become incredibly dangerous and desperate to just not be the only one who remembers.

9. Garam while his nerves end up aaaabsolutely shot and he loses all his patience to see the same day happening over and over, i think it would honestly take a while for him to become a danger to the ggs. he'd rather take out his stress on Literally Anything Else. that said he'd reach a point where he accidentally kills someone for real (whether a gg or an unrelated party) and it fucks him up reallll bad, but whether it fucks him up in a "fine whatever i can kill people who cares" way or a "I NEED TO BE CAREFUL THIS NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN HOLY FUCK" way depends on the circumstances.

8. Beat honestly? unless something in particular causes him to suspect one of the ggs is responsible for the loop, it takes a while for it to even occur to him that killing his friends is an option. like maybe he might end up killing the GGs' enemies and maybe even rivals, but if you brought up the idea of killing his FRIENDS to him he'd be like "wait huh??? but why even????" that said, though, keep him in there long enough and he might develop a severe god complex and start doing it purely to power trip.

7. Combo putting him in a time loop i think would really be the last straw in his miserable life. maybe he deserves the right to kill someone at this point really. while he focuses intently on trying to find a way to break the loop, as it all begins to grate on him he really just stops giving a shit about much of anything. the murder isn't a constant thing, more like one or two good ol' kill em all style breakdowns, and obviously it only makes him feel sick to his stomach when the date rolls over, but what can he even do about it?

6. Clutch he tries to play it cool at first and not think about it too hard but it isnt long before a sort of prey animal panic is invoked in him and hes like. I gotta get outta here. I gotta get out of here. Oh my god i gotta get the hell out of here. and it doesn't help that hes really not close with these guys yknow. and any concern from the ggs he reacts to with escalating violence until he reaches the point he's killing them multiple times in hopes that gives him a way out. eventually he just gives up

5. Corn at first the thought of killing his friends doesnt even cross his mind but he becomes increasingly desperate to understand what's happening and soon enough it's a last resort. it's all very methodical testing the limits of the loop and himself, not explaining anything to anyone else because they'll forget anyway and becoming increasingly hostile and isolationist. he doesn't want to but He's out of options. He has to FIGURE IT OUT.

4. Roboy what bothers him more than anything else is the feeling of helplessness over the whole thing and even if the others COULD help him he's not going to try to get their help. he kills the other ggs to feel less powerless, like he has any sort of control over the situation, and all it does is make him feel worse and worse and worse. maybe eventually reaches a point where he starts deleting his memories of the resets in the hopes this breaks the vicious feedback loop but all it does is ensure the cycle never ends.

3. Yoyo If you put yoyo in a situation where nothing he does matters and none of his actions have consequences he will do increasingly crazy dumb shit because it's not like it matters anyway. and he will undergo EXTREMELY RAPID psychological decay that DOES end in him killing members of the ggs just to see what effect it has both on the loop and on others' psyches. and he will just assume that the loop is forever and ever with no way to ever break it.

2. Cube cube upon realizing she and she alone is in a timeloop will rapidly come to the conclusion that she is in actual literal hell. everything wrong with her will come to the surface at once. she will suffer a severe psychological break SO fast and the streets will run red. maybe she's enjoying it. maybe she isn't. but she is convinced this HAS to happen. and that she deserves it. 1. Mew As soon as Mew finds out that deaths don't stick she's going to massacre all of the GGs just to see how it feels. just once. to try it. it's fine. it doesn't matter. Where did she get that higurashi cleaver

bonus: with the way i joke about zero beat maybe he doesnt even notice hes in a time loop until After hes maimed someone to death. i dont know man. im lying. who fucking give a shit

#mod noname #do i fucking maintag this. #jet set radio #jet set radio future #Fine. i maintagged it. go to hell @me #blood #horror #ask to tag #i spent an unfortunate amount of time thinking this through despite the fact it was supposed to be a joke post #whys most of my content so evil. whats that about #in my defense one of my friends has a horror project which prominently features a time loop #hence why they're on the mind. #vreepypasta

[cosmicanger]

Pushing Back Against Mass Abuse Apologism

Pushing back is to apply force to something that is exerting a force upon you. During this fascist period consisting of multiple crises, we are all having lethal forces directed at us and many of us are being crushed alive. Despite this harrowing predicament, we all find ourselves in, why are so many americans choosing to align with pacifism? Neoliberalism fascism has demonstrated just how many people believe the state is benevolent if there is a democrat in the white house, and it has become clear that radical abolitionists have also been influenced by this trend. Patriarchal violence is a dedicated arm of fascism and we see it at every level of society, from the biggest institutions to relationships between two people. Before and throughout this ongoing pandemic, we have seen our toolkit for pushing back against systemic oppression severely reduced. We have seen call-outs crucified across mass media and this reactionary trend continues to be mimicked.

One of the reasons that people are uncomfortable with call-outs is because they first imagine how they would feel if they were called out, and this happens regardless of whether the empathizing person has ever done anything remotely similar to the called-out person. This is indicative of a culture steeped in abuse apologism. Because we live in a patriarchal society, it is easier for people to relate to a loss of hierarchical power (i.e. systematically reinforced control of someone else’s behavior) than it is for people to truly grasp what it means to become the object of power (i.e. to be dispossessed of one’s agency). This is true even when people have no direct experience with utilizing the forms of power that someone else loses as a result of a callout or intervention. Conversely, this ability to better relate to a loss of hierarchical power oftentimes still persists in people who have substantially more direct experience with being the object of dominating or controlling power dynamics.

Even in venturing an attempt to define such terms, abuse apologism immediately interjects itself in these conversations by claiming that callouts or community interventions are themselves a form of social control or even abuse. Indeed, mass abuse apologism claims to be so against “any form of abuse” that it has no choice but to renounce all consequences or punishments for the countless harmful behaviors that make our patriarchy-dominated world what it is today. While the word abolition commonly evokes the idea of destruction, abolition is about creating strategies for dealing with and preventing harm such that carceral institutions become obsolete. Mass abuse apologism has led to the co-optation of abolition, which now in its distorted view claims that only inaction and tolerance of harm and abuse are the only “moral” response to systemic and interpersonal violence.

The idea that those who cause harm or abuse others must be “humanized” above all else is an exercise in patriarchal morality. Abuse is inherently objectifying action, yet those who refuse to condemn their own abusive behaviors and transform them into caring behaviors must first be humanized before they can be reproached? What then does it mean to humanize the survivor or victim who was denied humanity when they became the object of abuse? The paradox of confronting a patriarchal society that is inherently violent with noble pacifism is invariably a promise that patriarchal violence can continue uninterrupted. Abuse apologist pacifism is ultimately the refusal to interrupt harm. The elementary school logic that two wrongs don’t make a right prevails even on the national political stage and it permeates our so-called radical and abolitionist spaces.

What do we do when harm is unrelenting, when abuse becomes serial, victims multiply, and survivors keep struggling to survive? Confronting someone who refuses to stop harming, abusing, and benefiting from past and present harmful behaviors is itself an acknowledgment of their humanity. It is an acknowledgment of the human capacity for violence, for lying and getting away with it, for manipulating entire communities into becoming accomplices to abuse. This is not to say that these are the only attributes humans are capable of nor does this mean that they are the only ones we need to acknowledge. It is simply accepting the grounded reality that humans can be capable of great harm when there is no oppositional force to stop them.

Building collective power with each other in order to stop individuals who continue to harm and abuse or deny the impact of their past behaviors is a necessary part of any abolition network that claims to be creating a world without prisons. The belief that people are only capable of transforming their harmful behavior if they are fully protected from any negative consequences of their actions is dehumanizing. Mind you, this is ignoring the fact that victims and survivors who have endured their harms are already a negative consequence of other people’s abusive actions. If we choose not to ignore this fact we are then forced to accept that mass abuse apologism very effectively centers those who have caused harm or abused others by subjecting us all to their vantage point.

Apologists don’t want negative consequences for those who have abused or caused harm and this is the guiding moral principle they use for assessing whether a response to harm and abuse is “carceral” or not. Not only does the apologist pacifism line of thinking dehumanize the victims and survivors who have had their lives permanently changed by the abuse they endured, but it also dehumanizes people who abuse or have caused harm by treating them as if they merely unconsciously select behaviors based on the presence or absence of unconditional support. Reactionaries will oftentimes ask “Are you saying abusers don’t deserve support!?” This disingenuous line of questioning is not actually about support. It is about comfort. “Are you saying that abusers should ever be uncomfortable?” The lens of mass abuse apologism erases the distinction between supporting someone’s effort to stop abusing with supporting someone’s unwillingness to be made uncomfortable because they have abused or are abusing.

As it stands, most self-proclaimed abolitionist organizations, networks, and individuals cannot stop or prevent violence. They can merely ask politely for it to stop, and they have thoroughly demonstrated how ineffective this method is over the course of several decades. If anything, this method has increased the number of ways victims and survivors can be abused, silenced, and gaslit. Yet this method is the most common “abolitionist” conception of an anti-abuse praxis. If you can’t make someone be accountable for their actions and they refuse to be accountable for their actions, what do you do?

Judging from the interpretation of prison abolition we’ve just gone over, the answer is that you do nothing. The conversation ends there and whatever happens happens, as long as there is no consequence, punishment, or carcerality for that person’s actions. There is no “how do we stop them?” No “how do we warn people who are likely to be the next target?” Not even a “how do we know they’ve actually changed their behavior?” There is only the abuse apologist myth of the “good” and “bad” survivor, where the anonymization of their abusers gets survivors a chance to be rewarded with crowdfunds that will go towards attempts to stabilize their lives after escaping harm and abuse.

I use the terms “consequence” and “punishment” very deliberately here because mass abuse apologism has made it so that all asks and demands from victims and survivors are heavily scrutinized on whether they offend pacifist sensibilities. This abstract search for “carcerality” where there is none prevents us from understanding the context of the situations that necessitate such asks and demands from survivors. We have made armchair intellectual debates about what is and is not in line with liberalized abolitionist ideology into the only “respectable” approach to active harm situations and this approach is a non-response. It is self-permission to disengage from pressing concerns that affect our collective health and safety.

It is because we understand the mechanics of abuse that we sometimes reach for consequences and, yes, even punishment when a person is unwilling to acknowledge and change their abusive behaviors. While punishment can itself be abusive, it is not innately carceral nor is it innately abusive. It is not the act of perceiving that some action is a punishment for harmful behavior that makes something carceral. Carcerality is the preservation of slavery in the form of the modern surveillance police state. Punishment is merely what the carceral state positions itself to have the sole authority to enact so that it can better get away with cultural claims that its arsenal of violences is morally benevolent.

Communities making their own disincentives for continued harmful behavior (i.e. punishments) entirely separate from the carceral state demonstrates that those communities are not carceral. They are abolitionist by virtue of the fact that they have created an alternative to the police that can effectively stop abusive dynamics when those who participate in abusive behaviors demonstrate an unwillingness (a practical inability) to change or acknowledge the impact of their own actions. Private and public demands from victims and survivors should concern the communities they are a part of, but mass abuse apologism reassures people that it is sufficient to simply judge from the sidelines whether the survivor is good and properly demonstrates “TJ,” or is bad and has succumbed to carcerality.

Before going through some examples of what disincentives look like in practice, apologism has left me with no choice but to state that all words, ethical systems, and collective practices can be used to target victims and survivors. Counter-callouts exist and those who intend to speak out are oftentimes ostracized before they can say anything. Now attempts at accountability processes more commonly defend against all forms of consequence, rather than ensure that active harm situations and patterns of abuse end. Apologism has truly multiplied the forms of harm that can happen in movement spaces and it accomplishes this primarily by redefining safety and care for survivors as carcerality and retaliation. The goal post has been moved backwards to where we are now, in the midst of multiple pandemics and crises that have dramatically increased the instances of interpersonal violence and abuse.

Conversations about whether an abuser or someone who’s caused harm should move out of town, or out of state often lead to mass abuse apologism interjecting its faux concern about whether their abuse will stop after they move. As is always the case with liberals, this is an empty gesture and a victim-blaming one at that. This example again demonstrates contempt for victims and survivors by making it their responsibility whether their abusers’ behaviors change. The question isn’t whether an abuser will change their behavior, it is whether they will be inconvenienced if they continue to abuse. From making victims and survivors out to be today’s prison guards to endlessly mining them for patience and compassion in the face of their abusers, mass abuse apologism truly has its bases covered from any collective threat.

For those who found spaces that allowed them to make other people the target of their abusive behaviors, not being able to access spaces where people made others the target of their abusive behaviors for as long as there is no public commitment to change those behaviors (or longer) is a natural consequence and it lessens opportunities for that harm to continue whether that behavior comes from the banned individual or not. Committing to giving back what was taken or exploited is a natural punishment for exploiting or taking in the first place and it helps those who were the targets of those actions mitigate how they were negatively impacted. Having to disclose past harms to groups or even new partners is a logical and compassionate consequence for those who have had a history of manipulating groups and/or multiple people who are in a shared network. In each of these examples, the punishment selected is something that could have actually prevented abusive behavior in the first place if their respective communities had established vigilant discernment about these dynamics.

But abuse cannot happen without taking advantage of incomplete notions of where safety can be found. Just as people who believe not wearing a mask outside does nothing to transmit viruses, many people implicitly and explicitly believe that abuse only comes from one identity category. Likewise, some people believe that reciting the same values every day means that those values are never being violated.

If this piece resonated with you please consider compensating me for my writing, research, and organizing work long-term on Patreon. For more Anarchist Zines made by QTBIPOC visit Brown Recluse Zine Distro.

This essay is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#highkeyvibe is a trans abuse apologist #highkeyvibe #theory #i love how I have references to back myself up and the people who hate me on here dont have receipts or research #so now i can just quote other people and talk to the antiblack losers directly

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 47

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader Content: ...sorry...I really am sorry. Also lack of beta’ing. A/N: 1) Don’t hate me for this chapter. 2) Reminder: this is unrelated to the D+ Loki series. The only thing in common between the two is the background (ie: the MCU movies). Ask or re-blog for tag.

47. The Death Song

…   Reader   …

Time itself is a paradox…at least that’s what you’ve heard that some scientist should be claiming but you hadn’t been sure until today. Until the shield of the ship and failed and Loki hadn’t had time to teleport (as you call it) it or the people on it because he already was busy doing the same for the Asgardian flagship.

The impact had ripped a huge chuck off the bridge and the decks below and you watched the shrapnel and people, still licked by dark flames, sucked away and into space for the eternity of seconds before you got launched backwards into a wall.

Next thing you knew, you were coming to conscious, drifting through space while the battle still raged soundlessly around you. Gasping to regain your breath after the impact, you had time to slap yourself mentally because there was no air to fill your lungs before panic started to set in and clouded any semblance of thought process. You could feel the dizziness slowly tug at your senses, could see the patches of blackness despite the similarly dark backdrop to everything around you. This is it, you realized, consciousness flickering.

But it wasn’t. Of course not. It was naïve to think you’d get away that painlessly.

A vast shadow loomed over you, pulling you in until you were resting on a metal surface and a metallic gate had swept closed in slow motion. Together with heat, and sound, came the air you needed so badly to cry out in desperation at realizing you were alone.

“Loki?” you gasped at first before filling your lungs, “LOKIIIII!”

There were voices around you and you felt hands grasp your flailing limbs. Then there was the face of Frigga, and you knew where you were but it didn’t matter as long as it was just you.

Another bout of words that you couldn’t be bothered to listen to until, “[Y/N], get yourself together.” You blinked owlishly at the stern face of your ally. “You are needed and Loki sent you into our path for that reason…don’t let his act be in vain.”

“Loki?” you whimpered at the name. Where was he then?

You recognized a pain flickering across Frigga’s face. “Yes, now make him proud, child.” She pulled you onto your feet and lifted your chin in much the same way your love had been prone to do. “Will you let Thanos get away with this?”

No. Something stirred deep within you, something you had never felt before and it scared you while simultaneously enticing you as your blood began to boil with rage. No, he will know pain too.

You allowed Frigga to guide you to the bridge of the vessel. From there you could see the chaos outside, watch the clusters of metal and glass that already were trying to stay in small orbits around each other only to be pushed apart as something came barrelling through, dragging it along in long wakes of destruction. But you saw Thanos’ ship across the battle space. You saw the bands of the wings whir silently as they turned and clicked into place to allow a new wave of smaller fighter flights gain access and kill.

Kill.

Death…so much death.

The ship you had been on was not the only vessel that had succumbed to the enemy. You had been told that was likely to happen even before boarding the ship and setting out, but watching it was too painful. Ruined, hulking wrecks floated by with a stream of dead in their wake. Where is Loki? But you didn’t want the answer. You wanted revenge.

...

People around you are cheering despite the devastation hovering in ribbons and clusters outside the warship you’re on. You know, you should join them – even though Thanos hasn’t been killed, the Mad Titan has still suffered a scalding defeat today – and cheer for those who fought whether they survived or not. But you can’t. Just...can’t. There’s an emptiness inside you, numbing, but void of anything else than disbelief as it renders all senses useless.

“Saviour.” The High Priestess has been among the survivors recovered among the debris right after their flagship was shot to smithereens. “You have done well. Be proud.”

“Thank you,” you mutter despite not feeling the pride she’s talking about. What is there to be proud of?

Every ship are sending out little teams for search-and-rescue, mostly bringing back corpses with bloated and blistered skin and blood-shot eyes. They’re covered in frost. Cold to the touch the few times you’ve tried to reach out to find a pulse before giving up helping out. It’s not the same chill. And you can’t help but wonder: will Loki feel this way too once they haul him back onto a vessel?

Someone big and warm plops down next to you, stretching leather-clad legs out before him and wraps an arm around you to envelop you in heat and sweaty musk that clings to his muscles.

“Don’t fret, little one,” Thor’s voice rumbles, “my brother rarely stays dead for long. He’s always pulled pranks, you know.”

“Thor...” you can’t listen to him. Can’t hear his tales of denial when it only highlights how fruitless it is to hope because this time...if Loki has been picked up by the coalition then you’d have known by now. And if it’s someone else who has found him alive...? You don’t want to finish the sentence.

“- this one time, he had transformed into a snake...and you know I love snakes...so I went to -”

“Thor!” You startle the poor guy shut, the look he gives you full of understanding underneath the wetness nearly daring to tumble down his cheeks. “I’m...I’m sorry, Thor. It’s just...can we not talk for a moment?”

He tugs you closer. “Of course.”

That’s how you sit when the search is called off together with the last inkling of hope you’d manage to nurture. That’s how Frigga finds you leaned against her last son.

#Loki x fem!reader #Loki mcu #Stolen 47 #loki fanfic #alternate timeline #Timeline spawned in Endgame #NOT didney+ Loki #Loki #Loki x reader #Loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #x reader #x fem!reader #x gifted!reader #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #fanfic #MCU fanfic #Loki fanfiction #Loki love #loki feels #Protective Loki #loki pain #thanos #marvel fandom #mcu fandom #writing #wip

[maaarine]

You said somewhere that it's Ni which is corrolated with high theory of mind, does it mean that Se it decorrelated with it? And when you say that F types don't have better ToM than T types, is it to say that low ToM doesn't apply to TJs? Because there are plenty of exemples of ITPs being completely clueless or bordeline autistic on you blog so I was wondering. Also please keep the unpopular opinions coming, it's refreshing

“You said somewhere”: full disclosure, I don’t remember that post

1) necessary reminder that consciousness is the #1 mystery of science, nobody really understands how the mind works, how autism works (or schizophrenia or other disorders), and there is no holy text out there that provides The Answer

so everything I write is inspired by books I’ve read, which are not MBTI books because those are terrible, and follows from my own experience and musings — not worth much but hey

2) theory of mind (wikipedia entry for those who don’t know the concept): I do think it’s a mistake to link theory of mind to feeling (F)

to me the better connections are: a) higher vs lower intelligence and b) introverted vs extraverted perception

2a) as soon as you mention intelligence you come across as an asshole so bear with me here

but I honestly believe that some people, no matter what their personality type is, are bad at grasping other people’s point of view simply because they don’t have the “brain power” to do so

for the same reason they’re bad at physics or philosophy, they’re bad at perspective-taking because it requires a high level of abstract out-of-the-box thinking, a detachment from direct experience that’s cognitively taxing

2b) of course I’ll be the first to snark that the four NP types can be crazy smart (about science and art) & crazy dumb (about people and themselves) at the same time, and that imo this paradox doesn’t apply to the four NJ types

obviously I’m biased but it’s lead me to wonder why I experience NP vs NJ that way, and about the conceptualization of extraverted vs introverted perception

so to me that’s where the question is: what the fuck is this duality of perception and how could it lead both to the stereotypical P vs J differences we read about in basic profiles, and also possibly lead to different theory of mind abilities

in other words, what’s the foundational difference in mental architecture that could explain those seemingly unrelated “symptoms”/traits manifested by the types

my deepest hunch is that it’s something to do with the consciousness vs self-consciousness duality, awareness vs meta-awareness, something along those lines, something to do with human reflexivity, that could explain a lot

but having read a lot about the matter, I can tell you that it’s an impossibly hard thing to figure out

#questions

[mahvaladara]

The Lore of Illaney Cast - The Executioner (deutoroganist)

Lacerta Dall’Gryphanius

“Who appointed you Judge and Executioner?”

“His Divine Grace, Lord Havura, my father.”

Legend says all of Gryphanius blood has been cursed by the blood of Srishti. But few speak of the middle son of the accursed Gryphanius, Lacerta, whose curse is as mysterious as their character.

Lacerta is the second born of Gryphanius, half-brother of Eltanin and Altair. Lacerta is actually a child of the God of Justice and War, Havura. With the powers over storms and lightning they are a force of great skill and virtue, an unwavering force or justice, but also revenge, as Lacerta was not the most compassionate of dragons, and when it came to Karma, Lacerta gave a new meaning to it being a bitch.

Karma under Lacerta’s grasp is a cruel and unrelenting mistress, who does not forgive and does not forget until retribution has been met. 

Forever trapped between three rigid principles “Justice must ALWAYS prevail”, “You must ALWAYS seek to do good” and “You must ALWAYS uphold the law,” three notions that become paradoxal on Lacerta’s very nature for the first one must always prevail even if for it, one must break the law and do great evil.

But what is Lacerta’s curse? A dragon who despises touch and willingly choses to hinder their own vision?

They say Lacerta can see your very soul and if they saw it’s darkness, they’d be compelled to execute punishment. They are Judge and Executioner.

#sims #sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #ts4 #ts4 story #the sims 4 story #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 gameplay #lacerta #lore of illaney

[acti-veg]

Making The Connection

The desire to deny what is happening to animals and to ignore our kinship with them comes from a need to protect ourselves. We want to not only avoid truths we would rather not know, but also to avoid taking responsibility for the harm we have been causing. To face up to our own bias, and in doing so come to terms with the reality of the role we played in the suffering of the animals on our plates, is no easy thing.

This is how we can watch footage of animal slaughter, can be in agreement that this treatment is horrifically cruel, then continue to consume more animals who were likely slaughtered in a very similar manner. It isn’t usually the case that we view such treatment as unfortunate but ultimately necessary either. Most of us agree that such treatment is utterly indefensible, but we rarely connect the dots between our own behaviour and the cruelty we observe. 

For most of us, our reaction to witnessing these acts are not so different from our reactions when watching bombs fall in some far away place. What we see upsets us, we know in our hearts that it is cruel but we don’t feel that we are in any way to blame. We are not the ones committing these acts, and we see no reason to feel personally responsible. The cruelties inflicted against animals are evil, most of us don’t view ourselves as capable of supporting evil, so we cannot think of what we are doing as in any way contributing to that cruelty.

Vegans understand how flawed this thinking is. Through the act of purchasing animal products, we create the demand which results in, and in fact necessitates - the cruelty we see on screen. Trying to inspire the observer to recognise their part in the cruelty they are witnessing is no easy task though; people have a personal incentive to not recognise this truth. 

There are several powerful psychological and social factors at play which allow us to disavow ourselves from the cruelty we see, despite the obvious role we have to play in it. Often simply pointing out the fact that this is exactly how the animals they consume are slaughtered is met by either disbelief or outright derision. The marketing of superkets and suppliers has a role in this too. Consumers see the fields of grass and pigs roaming in the sunshine on their packet and assume that the animal in that clip must have led a completely different life than the one they consume. These clips must be from the worst of the worst facilities, we tell ourselves, places who supply stores we would never buy from.

A large part of this has to do with the fact that, while most people understand the concept of supply and demand, they don’t often apply that knowledge to their own consumption of animals. This is never revealed more clearly than in the response to when someone stops consuming animals, arguments like ‘what difference will it make?’ and ‘the animals will die if you eat them or not’ are all too common. 

The popularity of these arguments demonstrate that people do not intuitively grasp how their own consumption has played a part in that animal dying, or how lowering your own personal demand could possibly have any impact at all. Paradoxically, people see their own purchasing of the animal product, and the act of butchering the animal to provide that product, as two separate and almost completely unrelated events. This is clearly not rational, but is a collective delusion which the overwhelming majority agrees to, making it comfortable to believe in - to proceed with the pretence. When a lie is complete, even the one telling it is convinced.

Part of the problem is that the lie is often easier to believe than the truth. This is especially the case when we are dealing with numbers of deaths which are higher than we would be discussing in literally any other context. Upwards of 70 billion land animals per year is an incredible number, and when including fish the death count reaches the trillions. It is almost impossible to even conceptualise trillions of deaths, much less empathise with those being killed. 

These are numbers that cannot even be counted in anything close to a human lifetime, and however much we would like to believe otherwise, compassion does have its limits. We cannot feel responsible for the deaths of trillions of animals, or even the thousands of animals an individual will consume in their lifetime; it is just too difficult of an idea for us to grasp. It is too much for any of us to let ourselves feel.

To help us deal with this, a diffusion of responsibility takes place between the act of slaughter and the act of consumption. There are so many steps in the chain, so that being the one at the end of that long process who eventually consumes the product feels a world away from being the slaughterhouse worker who wields the blade that kills the animal. 

Even though the consumer is the one who ultimately funds the breeding, exploitation and slaughter of the animal, and is the one who ultimately benefits from it, many of us would be offended by the suggestion that the responsibility is in any way ours. Arguments arise that we cannot blame consumers for the actions of corporations, or that consumers can’t control how an animal is slaughtered, but these become redundant when we realise that for most of us, this act of consumption is a choice made among many other alternatives.

This is what vegans mean when we talk about ‘making the connection.’ It is connecting the food on your plate to the animal who died to produce it, as well as how our own behaviour and the demand we created helped make all of this happen. That is the key difference between vegans and non-vegans, that instead of seeing food when we look at a rack of ribs, we see someone else’s rib cage served up on a plate - an animal who died because we wanted to eat their flesh. Responsibility for the cruelty required to obtain that product rests with us because we could have acted otherwise but chose not to, despite being aware of the consequences. 

You shouldn’t dwell on this or beat yourself up about it, what matters is that you are make yourself learn what you would rather not know, and that you change your behaviour accordingly. That is something to be proud of.

-An extract from my free eBook: The Green Road - A Practical Guide to Veganism

#vegan #personal responsibility #making the connection #original

[softsketching]

That Spring Noon

For Ashlyn. 

Word Count: 2505 words

By the time that white blankets of snow melted to unearth the vibrant, green blades of grass underneath, your own heart had thawed. You sighed happily. Thanks to Suga's unrelenting kindness, the wounds from your first love's rejection slowly healed over. A seemingly humiliating experience had only deepened your friendship with Suga; you were beyond thankful for his camaraderie. But at some point, the feelings of gratitude he'd sowed in your heart sprouted into something that transcended the boundaries of friendship. With the amount of time you two spent together during that winter, you'd be a fool to deny the familiar yet paradoxically foreign feeling bubbling to the surface.

Stop it. He's just a friend. You shook your head, dispelling your thoughts. And he likes someone else anyway.

It'd taken you almost ten minutes to decide where to spread your yellow picnic blanket. You wanted to find the perfect spot to lay it down–somewhere underneath a tree with a significant radius of shade and surrounded by small spots of bright, white flowers. Luckily, the only people at the park today were a few little children and their parents, so finding an ideal location proved little challenge. After laying down both the blanket and your picnic basket, you checked the watch on your wrist. 11:40. Suga would probably arrive in five or so minutes, knowing him and his tendency to overdo everything. You smoothed down your white dress, then moved to pat your frizzy hair down with your fingers. A soft breeze picked up and ruffled at your skirts. Checking your watch again, you tugged at the hem of your clothing, waiting on Suga to arrive.

"Sorry I'm late," came the voice you most wanted to hear. "I think I went a little too far with prepping the side dishes." Bingo!

You tore your eyes away from the fabric of your dress and turned to face Suga. Today, he wore a light pink, long cardigan. You could see the outline of his sculpted body through his white undershirt, a fact that brought spots of heat to your face. When your eyes moved further down, you realized he was wearing the black jeans that you gave him as a Christmas present.

"How much did you prepare?" Your eyes quickly snapped back to his face as you feigned a laugh.

Suga gave a sheepish smile before plopping down across from you. "Just...this and that."

That day, the two of you joked around until both your sides split from laughter.

"You look like a hair stylist!" You cackled, watching Suga's mouth drop open in fake hurt. It was easier for you to make fun of his appearance than it was to admit that his outfit fit him perfectly, accentuating his toned body and contrasting perfectly with his fair skin.

"Are you kidding? This cardigan is great!" He retorted. "At least I don't look like-" Suga scanned your outfit with lovestruck eyes. What was he going to say to you, anyway? You looked beautiful today. The white dress you wore highlighted every dip and curve in your body, and he had to resist every urge to run his hands through your soft, silky hair.

"Like what, huh?" You laughed harder.

"Shut up," He blushed, tears of laughter brimming in your eyes. "let's just eat already!"

While jesting at each other, you both pulled out the insulated lunchboxes and thermoses stored in your picnic baskets, revealing the contents inside. The smokiness of charbroiled meat, the dance of steamed vegetables, and the earthy aroma of sesame seeds filled your nose as you and Suga uncapped the food. You two dove in.

"Try the meat with perilla leaves and this sauce, Y/N." Suga brought his lunchbox closer to yours, trapping bits of sauce-coated beef and vibrant, green perilla leaves between his chopsticks and bringing it to your own.

"Mah pwate ish fuh." You said.

The laugh that came out of Suga's mouth made your heart skip a beat. "Stop talking with your mouth full, dummy." He waited patiently for you to swallow your food before talking again.

"I'll just feed it to you then."

What? You must've heard that wrong.

"Say ah!" Suga's chopsticks approaching your mouth confirmed that what he said was definitely not a figment of your imagination. And for just that moment, you allowed yourself to succumb to the romantic feelings begging to burst open inside of you. Suga gently place the food onto your tongue, your eyes fluttering shut to imagine how lovely it'd be to have Suga by your side like this everyday–what it'd be like to be someone special to him.

Suga's heart pounded against his chest. So beautiful. At the first taste of the smoky combination of flavors, your eyes shot open. "Mmmm!!!"

Suga smiled and returned to eating his own food. It hadn't even been more than five minutes when...

"Wipe your mouth. There's sauce on it." He poked your forehead. You scrunched up your face in embarrassment. Taking a napkin from the picnic basket, you aggressively rubbed it against your lips.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. I told you to wipe your mouth—not maul it."

You giggled, sticking your tongue out at the amused, gray-haired boy. "Alright, mom. Wipe it for me then."

"Okay."

The next turn of events passed by too quickly for you to properly recall them. All you could feel was the ghost of Suga's fingers swiping at your bottom lip. He'd closed in on you by then, the beauty mark below his brown eye fading into view as his hands cradled your face. Faint hints of strawberry wafted off of his skin as his thumb delicately wiped at the corner of your mouth. When Suga retreated back to his food, no words left your lips. Your chest tightened; your mind was spinning.

You knew that Suga's presence served as a catalyst that allowed your heartbroken wounds to heal faster. He helped you regain the confidence you'd lost post-confession, and with that confidence came newfound feelings of intimacy for him. But the fact of the matter was that speeding up the process of healing doesn't mean that you've fully recovered.

And when you open up a wound that hasn't healed over...

You gasped, freezing in your spot in Karasuno High's courtyard. In that moment, you could no longer feel Suga's warmth by your side. The world around you crumbled. You were face to face with your first love, eye contact unavoidable, longing eyes square against cold indifference. You were shaking. The thought of glancing over at the smaller figure next to him terrified you, but you did it anyway.

It was like a punch to the stomach, seeing your first love with his arms wrapped around another girl. All the confidence you'd built up over the course of the winter drained out of you at the sight of him and her, and in its place was the same freezing emptiness that choked the life out of your trembling body.

How long had it been since school started? A few months, maybe some months and a half? How long ago was your picnic with Suga? Two weeks, maybe two weeks and some change? Your grasp on time was shaky at best. All you knew right now was that you had to get away. So with a quick turn of your heel, you did.

Your pace was slow at first. You didn't bother turning around to see the look on anyone's face. But as soon as you were out of your first love's sight, you took off sprinting. You quickly pushed past groups of students chatting idly after school, asphalt and cleanly trimmed lawn blurring together to form streaks of grayish, green ground. You sniffled. Tears flooded the corners of your eyes, drowning your vision. Before you knew it, you'd tripped over your own feet, crashing onto the pavement with a hard thud. The impact had scraped both your elbows and your knees, but you couldn't feel the pain. You just needed to get away. Run. You hoisted yourself up off of the ground, tiny pebbles jamming into your palms, and made your way across the school, stopping only when you'd turned a corner that was devoid of students. Soft cries escaped you, rattling your entire body. You felt like the air in your lungs had been ripped out of you. Anger and disappointment churned in the depths of your stomach; you'd been swallowed whole by the plethora of negative emotions swirling dangerously inside.

"Y/N!" You looked to the side to see an out of breath Suga approaching you. The expression on his face told it all: you'd worried him so much that he chased after you.

"Suga?" You whispered. "why'd you follow me? You're gonna be late for prac-"

"It doesn't matter." He replied quickly.

"B-But it does. I was supposed to walk with you to the gym."

"It's okay." Suga said.

You wiped at your eyes aggressively. Seeing this, Suga sighed and inched closer to you. With the same kindness he'd shown you the day you were rejected, Suga ran his thumb across your closed eyes to wipe away stray tears, delicately, as if you were bound to break apart at any second.

"I'm here now..." He whispered. But unlike before, the bitterness in your heavy heart had all but consumed you.

"Don't be sad.." You heard him say.

"He's just one guy. You can do better..." Ha. How would you know? Frustration licked at your insides, and you flinched away from his tender touches. Suga scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"You're lucky, Suga." You hiccuped.

"You're lucky that you're so perfect. Nobody would ever pass up on being with you."

Suga retracted his hands, taking a perplexed step back. Despite your own brain telling you to stop, you pushed forward with your distateful thoughts.

"Of course you think he's just another guy. You don't even know how painful it is to be in my position."

Stop. It isn't his fault.

Suga shook his head in an attempt to block your words. "That's not true. I understand."

"How could you get it?" The pointedness of your question left him speechless. "You have no idea what it's like to be rejected!" For some reason, the more you talked, the louder your voice grew. Suga hadn't done anything wrong. Matter of fact, he was the only reason you hadn't broken down from sadness that winter. But why? Why were you so frustrated at the gray haired boy who was oozing care for you? Why?

"You don't know that at all," came his uncharacteristically curt response. The air hung heavy around your skin.

"Really?" You said back. "Because the last time I checked, you haven't even had the guts to confess to the girl you like. You really think that you can understand how I'm feeling right now?"

Suga's jaw tensed, but his eyes remained on you. You couldn't breathe.

"Am I ugly?" You asked. Dull pains littered your body.

"No."

"Am I boring?"

"No."

"Am I stupid?"

He broke eye contact with you. "No."

"Then why, you cried, "don't I deserve to be loved?"

"You do."

"The person I wanted already rejected me, Suga!" A formidable distance had grown between you and Suga, both in physicality and in mentality. "Who could ever like someone like me?!" Tears streamed down your cheeks in huge bursts, obscuring your vision. Perhaps it was because of your tears that you couldn't see his own expression.

Suga was gnawing at his lip, his eyebrows furrowed as he burned holes into the ground. His brown eyes were telling their own story of hurt, confusion, and love, but you were blind, so blind. He looked up.

"Me. I would."

It was like the world stopped moving the moment he uttered those three words. You blinked your tears away, eyes widened in unadulterated shock.

"You say I don't know what rejection is like? I watched you, listened to you spill your feelings about him for two years." A thin layer of ice was beginning to coat Suga's voice. "I listened to you every night when you'd tell me why he was perfect for you. All those times you and I climbed onto the roof of my house to talk–I had to hear you tell me he's the one even when he treated you like crap. All I could do was comfort you when you cried and I-"

"I would like you—no, I do like you. I like you so much, Y/N! Why can't you...look at me like that?"

His voice shaking with desperation. "It's always been you."

Suga's eyes stung. He couldn't believe that he'd exposed his feelings for you this way. With just a few words, he'd ruined everything. Gone were the days where he could admire your laugh, your smile, your sparkling eyes. Your hugs, your voice, your platonic love. Your support, your jokes, your care. You were fading, fading because he couldn't hold his selfish feelings in. Fading because he overstepped his bounds. Fading because he could no longer deny his heart.

You couldn't think of any words to say. For years, you assumed that Suga was head over heels in love with some enigma. You never bothered invading his privacy, thinking he'd tell you when he was ready. But to think that the girl he'd been longing for, the girl he used to cry over during his lowest nights, the girl who dulled the twinkle in his eyes at just a mere mention of her...

was you?

Despite every feathery touch he'd leave on your hands, the overextended bear hugs he'd give you when you two were alone, the slight blush on his cheeks that only appeared when you were around, you were oblivious.

How could you not have figured it out?

"I might not know what it's like to get turned down after finding the courage to admit my feelings." Suga's breaths were uneven, wavering. "But to say that I haven't experienced what it's like to be rejected isn't right." The sound of his breaking voice made you want to rip out your ears.

"You rejected my love before I even had the chance to give it to you."

He shook his head then. You watched in agony as a single tear cascaded down your friend's loving face, your friend's loving face which was now twisted from the hurt. Your heart was in absolute shambles.

"I'll see you later" was the last thing Suga said to you before his back faded out of sight. The sound of his retreating footsteps rung in your ears. Regardless, no matter how much you wanted to move your feet and chase after him, you stayed glued to your spot.

Warm spring air slapped you in the face as you stared out into the open fields. The sun was supposed to be beating down on your wet face today, rays of light supposed to be tanning your uncovered skin. But you were stone cold, alone.

...you get a deeper scar.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #fanfiction #sugawara fluff #sugawara #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x you #sugawara imagine #suga x reader #sugawara x reader #angst #fluff #sugawara angst #karasuno

[ittybittytatertot]

Batman & The Flying Graysons—First Flight Pt. 2 (AO3 Link)

Mary pointed her toes, feeling the empty air whistle beneath them. She was used to knowing no net would catch her, but she had never flown twelve stories up across three city blocks. But in place of fear, adrenaline rushed under her skin. The thrill of the night, the wind, the mask, gripped her like her husbands’ hands on the trapeze.

She only realized she was smiling when John looked back at her and smiled in return. Her joy was his joy; that was their bond, the promise of the rings tattooed on their fingers. Their brief moment of eye contact melted into laughter as they swung upward, towards a skyscraper in the heart of downtown.

With the flutter of capes, Starling and Bluejay landed on a quiet, dark balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw Batman swing in behind him, but lose his footing on the smooth metal railing. Without thought or hesitation, Mary reached out, grabbing Bruce’s wrist to steady him.

She pulled him forward, onto the safety of solid ground. And into her personal space (it was a small balcony).

“Thanks.” Batman murmured with a hint of embarrassment.

She had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes to answer, “No problem. A trapeze artist’s job is to catch their partner.”

“Uh,” Bruce swallowed, but if he was going to say anything more, Mary would never know as John cut him off.

“A little help over here? I’m not exactly a lock-picking expert.”

Batman hastily pulled his gloved arm from Starling’s grip and slid around her to open the door. John gave her a look through his Bluejay mask, but she just shrugged her shoulders as they snuck inside.

The sparse (or as the rich would say “minimalistic”) bedroom couldn’t hold a candle to Wayne Manor, but its emptiness was indicative of wealth all the same.

Bluejay let out a low whistle and said, “So this is what wage theft can buy.”

Starling shushed her husband, “Stealth, remember?”

“Neither of you are stealthy.” Batman didn’t look up from where he was diligently inspecting an armoire even as he gestured at Bluejay and Starling’s sparky costumes.

“Mmm, maybe, but we look good.” John said, flipping his cape like it was a movie star’s long hair.

Stifling a laugh, Starling peered around the bedroom door before tiptoeing across the hall to inspect another room. She sneered at the open format kitchen with all stainless steel appliances, granite counters, and light fixtures that looked more like sculptures than ceiling lamps. This man could afford to let a whole apartment collect dust, only using it on the rare occasion he needed to sleep downtown or stash things where an oblivious spouse or an unbribed officer couldn’t find them.

The man, Tony Zucco, was the biggest lead Haly had to offer. He’d wanted to rent space to the circus back when Haly was arranging their Gotham stop. Haly backed out of the deal when he heard rumors of labor disputes—Haly was not a man who crossed picket lines—and contracted with Zucco’s competitor instead. With his mob connections, Zucco had all the means, motive, and opportunity to frame Haly.

Mary just hoped they could find hard evidence. She slowly pushed open a door, finding an office space behind it. The lush carpet and floor-to-ceiling windows were impressive, but its decor was even sparser than the bedroom. Though the desk and computer looked promising enough. Of course, Mary didn’t have any idea how to hack a password. Zucco was smart enough not to have it lying around on a sticky note. She typed in his birthday just to check, but of course that didn’t work.

The bottom drawers on the desk were locked, but the tops weren’t. Lucky her. Careful to avoid jostling the desktop or the shelves behind her, Starling ever so slowly pulled the top drawer out. It took a bit of dexterity, but she managed to tilt it just right to unlatch it from the tracks, and the drawer was free in her hands. Now, she had just enough room to peek through to the locked drawer beneath.

Sure enough, there were files, though how old they were or what they detailed she couldn’t know until she opened them up. She was about to reach for them when she felt a footstep in the room, a footstep too heavy to be either Batman or John. Trusting her gut, she jerked away.

And she was glad she did because Tony Zucco loomed over the desk, a scowl further puckering his cleft chin. Zucco reeled back for a punch, and Starling only just managed to dive out of the way with a yelp. His fist impacted the window behind her hard enough to crack it.

Tumbling over the carpet and landing on her feet, Starling ran for the office door only for Zucco to catch her around the neck. Mary’s mind whirled, trying to remember her training. Heel to his toes, elbow to his gut, spin around to free her windpipe. She was too short to really headbutt him in the jaw, but she could duck while shoving him backwards. Now Starling had enough distance for a kick that sent Zucco hurtling into his desk, which smashed into the window. The already cracked glass shattered at the weight of it. Bits of glass plummeted to the street below, and the breeze that now filled the office was much more than a simple draft.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” Zucco spat, chucking a paperweight at her head.

Starling dodged. Her opponent took the opening to grab her by the arm. Mary struggled against him, but his grasp was so tight she couldn’t twist her wrist. At least, not until a batarang lodged itself between two of his knuckles.

“Get away from her!”

Mary looked up to see Batman, hand at his utility belt, and her husband, who had apparently decided his fists worked just as well as his birdarangs. John jumped in front of Mary, and with a nasty crunch, Zucco’s nose suddenly had a lot less structural integrity.

Despite the blood and the pain, Zucco only stumbled back for a moment. Adrenaline, as both Graysons were well aware, was a hell of a thing. In a swift and vicious movement, he swung Bluejay onto the desk with enough force to collapse it. Starling jumped onto Zucco’s back, trying to lock him in a choke hold.

Mary’s vision blurred as she felt Zucco fling her off his back. She didn’t land on the carpet this time. Instead, she tumbled out the window into cold night air.

A cacophony of wind and traffic hit her almost as soon as the chill. Time felt fast and slow all at once, a paradox that made her muscle memory falter. Her body wanted to brace itself for impact, but her logical brain yelled for the grappling hook at her hip. Her limbs fought themselves as much as the gravity. Was this it? She thought of her husband and her son, and her gut told her to reach up.

A hand caught her forearm, and she was pulled away from the zooming cars. Mary found herself wrapping her arms around Batman’s neck, as he drew her close, one arm secure around her waist.

“You caught me.” She gasped.

It was hard to tell from under the cowl, but Bruce seemed taken aback.

“That’s what a trapeze artist’s partner is supposed to do.” He said.

“Wait, John-” Mary said when she realized they were swinging the opposite direction from the skyscraper.

“He dove for you too, I’m just the one who caught you first.” Sure enough, Mary spotted a shimmering caped figure gliding behind them.

They landed on a nearby rooftop, Bluejay following shortly after. John hit the cement running, gathering Mary into a twirling embrace. He took her head in his hands.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. Yes.” Mary assured him, seeing the hints of a bruise forming on her husband’s chin. “What about you?”

“I’m fine. I can take a punch.” John joked.

“I know, my strongman.” She said lifting his mask so the beaked nose wouldn’t get in the way.

Batman stood off to the side, eyes on the skyline while Mary and John kissed. Police sirens wailed in the distance. It could have been unrelated, but it sounded like they were getting closer. Batman coughed.

“Zucco knows we’re after him now. We need to go home and restrategize.”

John slipped his mask back on, and winked at his wife, “First one to the Batmobile gets to drive?”

“You’re on.” She said, taking a running leap to the next building.

#earth 386 #ch: bruce wayne #ch: mary grayson #ch: john grayson #long post #please let the read more work on mobile

[sylph-feather]

Wordcount: 1515

Prompter: @feministhotline

Prompt: “I can’t help it, okay? I’m a halfa! ...I need this to survive.”

Notes: Not as long as it could’ve been, but I still quite like it and I hope you do as well! 

@currentlylurking for team Human 

Ghosts can go quite a long time without a recharge. It’s not something known to Danny. For once, this isn’t due to his inexperience; no, most ghosts don’t know.

This is because ghosts recharge naturally, just by being in the ghost zone— hence why they never strayed overly far from Amity Park’s borders despite the catastrophic potential of their spread. Some could get a temporary boost from emotional output, but it never lasted. Consistently as they grew further, they grew weaker, and when they were brutally beat down (perhaps by a certain Phantom) they needed that glowing green essence of their home.

Danny’s awareness of this came in stages.

The first stage was the weakening. He spent the first few months of his halfterlife mostly figuring stuff out; sure, fighting the (eventually relatively) weak ghost creature that came to haunt the halls, but even then he did that primarily with his fists (albeit floating).

The main usage of his powers was accidental; a dash of invisibility here, a sprig of intangibility there. Enough to stress him out emotionally, but nothing that drained his ghost side physically. Routine exercises for a ghost, especially one with a solid body it could take excess energy from.

The only compensation Danny had to do was eat a little more. Considering everything else that was going on, he didn’t even think to question it as a compensation for the energy of his ghost side, but saw it as something normal. After all, teens were bottomless pits, ghost side or no; it was a nice, familiar constant, a good normalcy.

...Even if, as the ghost fights increased, so did his hunger.

It starts as a little extra on his plate, a few bites more.

His parents notice when he starts to take double portions as he’s fighting more fully fledged ghosts. Bitterly, Danny just wonders if they notice through food shortage and bills; it’s not like they come up from the lab often.

Normally, he’d tell himself not to think about what they were doing in the lab when he was trying to eat, but now… now he’s just so hungry that the nausea just doesn’t matter.

“My son’s a growing boy!” Jack splutters, unspeakably proud as he claps Danny on his skinny shoulder, knocking some of that precious food out of his mouth. “Finally swimming in my end of the gene pool,” Jack laughs, puffing his chest up.

Danny takes in his father’s broadness, thinking of his own lithe style of fighting. I hope not.

The issue with them noticing is when the ghosts continue to escalate— because his intake thusly escalates… and not even to scale, as though his body previously was boosted just fine but the solution of food is temporary, at least to some degree.

Then it was just another worry on his shoulders. Another of those traits that constantly nagged and bit at him— When will your parents notice? When will they put it together?

When he voiced those concerns, the need to consume such noticeably vast quantities of food, Sam and Tucker unanimously shrugged.

“They’ll buy that teens are bottomless pits,” Tuck informed around a large burger (demonstratively of his statement, really).

“Your dad’ll just be happy that you’re,” Sam paused, inhaling, then continuing in the most Jack Fenton-ly deep voice she could muster, “filling out to be just like your old man!”

Danny managed a snort, eyeing his own burger, painfully hungry gut flipping in anxiety, but accepted it with a nod. After all, it wasn’t like his parents had noticed anything about him that was more obviously ghostly, and there were plenty traits to name.

It was as though the universe took offense at that thought, or perhaps at the idea of letting Danny Fenton live his life easily. It didn’t matter the motivation of the universe’s whims, it just mattered that the hunger escalated.

Danny was inhaling food 24-7 now, enough that his worries about his parents noticing were coming true. Granted, it had taken them quite a while, but eventually they noticed he was never without a carb heavy snack. He could only keep that on the down low so much, particularly since using his powers made his stomach twinge in its constant state of hunger.

It was getting worse, food just a temporary solution. Danny’d read enough on ghosts to consider the portal (he may have been a C student, but he wasn’t a total idiot)— but that didn’t work; it brought an energy buzz, but it didn’t sate the hunger. It wasn’t the solution either— though he’d find the real one soon enough.

A fight with Johnny had gotten out of hand, lead to Danny ways away from Amity after having chased that stupid ghostly bike down a road stretching into nowhere. Needy of help, Danny had shouted at Johnny, asking of hunger, and Johnny had just shrugged and said “ya should be gettin all that food from the zone,” and then he’d shrugged again and kickstarted his motorcycle into gear, riding off with a flare of green flames, tailed hotly by Danny Phantom.

Exhausted and grasping at his stomach, Phantom began the flight home, drifting in a wobbly way.

He paused his mental moaning and groaning when the air turned sweet, as though someone had set a flytrap of honey. The halfa narrowed his eyes, practically walking on the air as he attempted to locate its source.

...A deer. Smashed.

Smashed was one way to describe it. Another more gorey way existed; ribs exposed to a baking sun, maggot eggs rooted in seeping flesh, labored breathing that oozed blood with every huff. Full of effort, the doe turned an eye towards him, full of fear.

Smelling so good.

It was paradoxical; Danny was drooling unrelated to throwing up, even though he was doing that too.

Most strangely, it was his first experience of satiation in a month. Just being near the creature’s rotting flesh as it panted its life away was enough to bring fullness to his belly, even as he expelled all the food he’d eaten that day before he left.

Who to go to, Danny wondered in bed. His parents knew not about whatever that was— even ghosts hadn’t known, Johnny hadn’t known. A halfa thing? It was a tentative conclusion, but one likely enough to consider. After all, Johnny spent enough time in the human world to know enough about “ecto fatigue” (his parents dubbing of the phenomenon).

That, of course, left one person.

…Well, Vlad certainly couldn’t have him as his weird son if he starved to death, right?

—That was the leverage he was holding now, at least. “I won’t do it,” Danny informed him after Vlad gave more oozing offers of “well if you’ll just be my pupil.” “Besides,” he continued, “you seem to know what’ll happen— can’t be your son if I die fully, and do you really think dear Maddie will look to you if I do?” Danny made a retching noise to go along with his sarcasm.

Vlad gave in. “Follow me,” he hissed, sliding back into that role of authoritative power, a cocky rich man rather than a frustrated ghost.

Hesitantly, Danny trailed, easily following Vlad directly through the ground to his secretive basement (not so secret, given Danny knew about it too).

“What does this have to do with it?” Danny pondered, eyeing… cages. A little set of small cages— stuffed with squeaking, writhing rats. Some of them were laying in the corner of their cages— something told Danny they were unconscious, but not dead.

Danny recoiled at the deafening confined scrabbling. “Didn’t know you were one for pets.”

Vlad ignored him, phasing a hand through the cage to pluck a rat up, thumb resting against its small throat.

Danny was growing more uncomfortable with the way the gray rat in Vlad’s hand had its eyes blown wide with fear, tiny voice squeaking as it squirmed. Tittering and shuffling and feeling much like the rat, Danny just ran his mouth— “what, you got a snake instead of a cat? Or maybe your cat caught all of these, instead? Or—“

The squeaking became more frantic, and Danny’s blue eyes snapped to the rat in Vlad’s grip. His thumb was pinned to the thing’s throat, cutting off its air, causing it to panic.

Slowly, its struggles stilled, each cry becoming more wheezy, each movement of its tiny paws becoming more leaden.

The sweet smell returned, and Danny breathed it in involuntarily— and felt full again.

Vlad smiled sharply, edging his grip off the things throat. It breathed, but was knocked out— the man callously tossed it back into the cage. Danny’s blown eyed gaze followed it.

“We can’t help it,” he crooned in a faux gentle voice, honey and oil oozing from it equally, “we’re halfas. We need something on the brink, like us; not fully dead, not ghost energy nor meat. Neither would completely do it.”

Danny stared at the unconscious rat, and he was the one breathing hard, pain in his lungs rather than his stomach.

#dp #dp fic #phic #danny phantom #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfiction #quill #my writing #phicphight20 #phic phight 20

[xiaomomowrites]

Submission [oneshot]

100 prompts: submission Attack on Titan | Eremika Summary: "You woke me up to spar?" It definitely was not because he craved the proximity that he had been missing for the last day and a half. Nope. Eren Jeager absolutely did not want Mikasa to trap him in another compromising position that had him questioning everything he's ever believed about her and their relationship. But, you know, if it happens then it happens.

Find this story on AO3 and Fanfiction!

--

“Ackerman, you’re up.” 

The sound of the captain’s voice this early in the morning was enough to make Eren wish he was still in bed, sound asleep and oblivious to anything going on within a 50-foot radius. He had taken a five minute breather to nurse the ache on the left side of his torso, courtesy of a nicely aimed kick Sasha threw to take him down.

In addition to the training and experiments Eren's Titan underwent to learn how to crystalize, Levi was in charge of hand to hand combat training sessions. It was to ensure that he didn’t overuse his shifting abilities, ultimately leading to an inability to use it later, while making sure he stayed sharp. Squad Levi was definitely taking advantage of this down time they had, since it was not guaranteed that they would be free to be sitting ducks for very long. It also made more sense, Eren mused, and he suddenly felt foolish taking these hand-to-hand combat training sessions for granted back in their cadet days. 

Today, however, marks the first time he was graced with the opportunity to spar against Mikasa, since the smiling titan incident had rendered her out of commission for a while (despite her protests). It was absurd, though, and Armin could agree, how willing she was to do this and how easily the corporal had agreed to let her in the ring just because she insisted she was feeling better already. Just the other day he had scolded her when she was busted for doing sit ups. Either he had that much faith in Mikasa, or he really thought that lowly of Eren’s skill.

“I really don’t think we should be doing this,” he stands up, the pain in his muscles still aching, though significantly less. 

“Eren,” she looked at him seriously, “I’m fine.”

He was about to shut her argument down when the captain answered for her.

“Mikasa is the only one who’s skill can rival the other titan shifters; you need to learn from her,” Levi explains, unamused. Eren scowled; he was so biased. He looked back at her and she was expressionless as usual.

Their relationship had improved since escaping the last mission, and it showed the most in how Eren looked at her differently: gentler, maybe even affectionately, though he would never admit that out loud. Ever since she gave her little speech to him expressing her infinite gratitude, he realized that maybe he may have been starting to take her for granted. Before he knew it, he was on his feet punching a fucking titan, and being far more gentle with her in the days that followed.

Despite this newfound confusion, the boy did his best not to read too much into it. He essentially promised that they would be together, forever. It seemed like an appropriate response to her declaration of gratitude when the heat of the moment dictated it, but in retrospect he wondered what the rest of its implications held. What exactly did he mean by it? And what did it did mean to her?

She has been treating him the same as always, with her annoyingly protective Mikasa-ways. But it felt different to him, like there might have been this unspoken understanding between the two of them. Eren had never been so glad in his life that she just understood what he meant without having to verbalize anything.

When she pushes him into submission, his mind takes a dive into the deep end.

First of all, he didn’t even realize he was on the ground, pinned underneath her unrelenting hold. Not until he heard some snide remark from Connie about how quick that was and, subsequently, a snicker from Sasha on the sidelines.

Eren cursed a thousand times in his head as she increased the pressure on the arm pinned above his head. And before he could even register that his other hand was free, it was in her grasp as well. Both of his legs were held down neatly with one of hers. He felt the pressure of her other knee on his stomach and he sighed.

He was trapped; she won.

“Yield,” she commanded, and her soft yet demanding instruction sent a wave of chills down his spine.  If he gave in now he would no doubt have to go another round against her, and she knew this. Of course, the mighty Mikasa seemed anything but interested in this, and his ego flared.

“No,” he squirmed, lamely attempting to throw her off of him somehow, until he realized that she had effectively immobilized him. 

Eren’s gaze shifted to Armin, who’s sympathetic expression only made him feel worse. Levi, who seemed indifferent, also hid a look that might have told him he was proud of the younger Ackerman, though he had no idea why. Connie was holding in a laugh, while Sasha wasn’t even trying, and Jean just looked disgusted (admittedly, he welcomed this reaction the most).

He took a deep breath, as if that was all he needed to muster the strength to shove her off, but she barely budged. When the hell did she get this strong?

“Eren,” she scolded, increasing the pressure enough to elicit a frustrated grunt. “He’s going to make us go again, there’s no use in fighting.”

“No,” Levi cut in, “He needs to know what to do to get out of a situation like this; we’ve seen him fight Leonhart and Braun before. They always take the fight to the ground.”

“Fine,” she relented, and turned her attention back to the squirming boy beneath her. It was almost endearing, actually, he looked like a small puppy stuck under a couch the more he struggled. But she would never tell him that, lest she want his ego to deflate miserably and his temper to take its place. 

But it was too late when she attempted to conceal a giggle, and it came out as a half-chuckle, bringing his attention back to her face.

Big mistake.

The cold, emotionless facade she held not two seconds ago was replaced with something soft as she bit her lip to keep from humiliating him. What she didn’t know was that this had evoked another emotion inside him, one that burned much hotter than embarrassment at his shortcomings in fighting her.

Eren stopped moving altogether when he realized he was suddenly aware of the details. He felt every inch of her body that was pressed up against him and then the battle became internal. 

He wondered when she had gotten this strong, but more importantly when she had the curves to compliment her insane strength. The way she bit her bottom lip and held his gaze with those wide, innocent eyes made his breath hitch, and the fact that her face was so fucking close that her hair tickled the sides of his face stopped his heart altogether. Something about her was so paradoxically innocent and naive, yet tempting and almost sultry. He wondered if this is what she looked like in bed.

Nope.

He had to get out of here.

Determined, Eren attempted to weasel a leg out of her grasp. Mikasa, caught off guard from that brief moment of intimacy (if either of them dared to call it that), faltered for a second and unintentionally gave him the opening to free a leg. But before he could get any closer to escaping, however, she retaliated by swinging a leg over his torso to restrain him.

Panic took over him when he realized that he was physically powerless to stop her at this point. So he opted to take whatever coherency he had left in his mind to call out to her, his voice breathy, panicked, desperate:

“Mikasa, don’t-!”

As soon as she sat herself down and applied miscalculated pressure with her hips, her eyes widened and she gasped just loud enough to send him over the edge.

In an instant, his eyebrows met and his jaw tightened. 

Whether she got the message or not didn’t matter, for it was enough to render her distracted. He successfully shoved her off to the side and stood up hastily, too fast for Mikasa to react. His back was against everyone else, eyes focused on the ground as he dusted off his clothes and tried his best to maintain composure. For all he could do now was hope to whatever gods were up there, watching, that nobody knew what was going on in his mind, and in his pants.

“I’m...done for today,” he grunted and stalked off.

Mikasa remained on the floor, her gaze shifting up to Levi, who she half-expected to scold Eren for leaving just like that. But the captain had an unreadable look on his face, as if he had understood something that nobody else did. And was he...trying not to laugh?

The young soldier cleared her throat and picked herself off the floor gracefully, ignoring the curious gazes as she dusted the dirt off her clothes in silence. Her whole body felt warm at the thought of Eren underneath her just moments ago. She pictured his eyes boring intensely into hers in such a compromising position, like he was trying to tell her something that she just couldn’t comprehend. The idea of him laying under her, under different circumstances, arms pinned down with a devilishly dark look on his face had admittedly crossed her mind once or twice before. But she never actually anticipated that the real thing would make her feel like this. 

But the flustered girl took a deep breath in an attempt to expel the dirty thoughts. He must have been on the same page as her then, because why else would he storm off like that? Did he truly find the idea of her in that way, really that repulsive? 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Levi had dismissed the group for the morning after that. He approached her coolly, still looking like he was trying to hide his amusement.

“Heichou-”

“Yeah, tell your boyfriend to keep it in his pants,” he tells her, almost expressionless, as he answers all her questions in one snide remark. Mikasa groans, but not before giving the captain a look of absolute mortification. Eren was definitely going to avoid her for a while.

--

Eren, predictable as he is, did attempt to avoid her for the rest of the day. There was no other way to deal with the fact that he's frustrated and embarrassed and needed time to think. It seems that every time he closed his eyes all he saw was her, so close, so warm, so inviting. And he was powerless to the primal thing inside of him that made the images more and more lewd as they came in higher frequency the more he tried to avoid her. He tried his best not to think of his best friend this way, it was so...wrong. 

Or was it?

No, it was definitely wrong. If he gave into these thoughts he would be just as gross as the boys in the barracks with their dirty locker room talk that he was always forced to listen to in their cadet days. If he entertained these urges, he would never be able to look at Mikasa the same way again.

It was embarrassing, it was distracting, it was...so enticing.

The guilt was definitely intensified by the unsolicited ways he had imagined her in the same position, with significantly less clothing between them. He pictured her, clear as day, sitting atop him, hips straddled across his own. He pictured her eyes, vividly, half-lidded and clouded with lust. And this time when she said his name, soft and breathy, it was not to scold, but out of pure, carnal need and sheer pleasure-

"Fuck," he sighed.

Eren shook his head and turned the shower on to the coldest setting.

--

Try as he might though, given their situation, there was only so much avoiding the troubled boy could manage. He saw her again for dinner that night with the rest of the squad, Of course, the only seat open is the one next to her as it was part of some implicit principle that they always sat together. His fellow teammates watched as the tension in the room spiked as soon as he sat down beside her. 

“Hey,” she greeted quietly. 

“Mikasa,” He returned the greeting, but refused to make eye contact, for he was genuinely afraid that engaging in such an intimate act would elicit those thoughts again, and at the dinner table no less.

In theory, dinner could have gone just fine, if she didn’t reach across the table to hand Armin some salt. She brushed her whole left side against him unintentionally in handing Armin the salt shaker, and when she leaned over, her chest was inches from his face. Nevermind the fact that Mikasa always dressed so modestly, Eren’s raging hormones somehow managed to give him some sort of imaginary x-ray vision in the moment. Shortly after that, they both reached for napkins simultaneously. When her hand brushed his lightly enough to send tingles up his arm, he withdrew his hand and muttered a clumsy apology. 

“Oi, Eren,” Connie’s voice broke his train of thought abruptly. “You’re not still mad at Mikasa, are you?” 

Eren looked up to see everyone’s eyes on him, as if Connie was the only one brave enough to address the elephant in the room. He waited a moment, calculating his response, before shaking his head and casually taking another bite of food, “I wasn’t mad at her to begin with.” There, simple, easy, and he felt her relax a little beside him at his response.

“So we can make jokes then?” It was definitely not supposed to backfire like this.

“Come on, let’s not make jokes about him,” Sasha countered, but then she turned to the boy in question, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Eren must already feel embarrassed from getting his ass handed to him by Mikasa today.”

“Oh, shit!” her partner in crime reached over and praised her crass teasing with a high five. “Yeah, from the looks of it earlier, looks like we know who wears the pants.”

Armin’s face contorted into some sort of guilty expression, like he wanted to put an end to this. But he understood that there was no need to start anything, especially when those two weren’t intentionally trying to upset Eren and Mikasa with their naturally vulgar humor.

“Oh, please, we already know Mikasa’s such a top.”

“Sasha!” Jean scolded from across the table, face turning red.

“What?” she looks at him, “not like it matters to you! It’s Eren who-”

“Okay!” Armin speaks up once he sensed the impending implosion his best friends were nearing.

Mikasa glanced over at Eren, who had been uncharacteristically silent though this whole thing and looked like he was about to choke on his food at this point. She hesitated for a moment, but in an attempt to ease his mind and make him feel a little less ganged up on, she rested a hand gently on his thigh. Her touch was comforting at first, until he remembered the reason behind this whole mess in the first place was her damned touch.

Eren froze, and she wondered if maybe that wasn’t the best thing to do after all. It was odd, the feeling of something like betrayal crawling up in her chest. It was an unspoken thing between them, these lingering touches and intense moments of eye contact in which each party understood everything they needed to know just from a prolonged glance. Except now he looked even more uncomfortable, so Mikasa felt panic surge through her.

When the titan shifter set his own hand on top of hers for a moment, she thought maybe she overreacted. But then he sighed, and removed her hand from his leg with a simple, “I’m fine,” and she felt like her heart sink fifty meters into her stomach.

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, a few bites left on his plate as he mysteriously walks off again. It wasn’t long before Sasha was asking for his plate.

--

The next day really wasn’t that much better. Eren had kept himself busy asking Levi for pointless chores to continue on his quest to avoid the problem.

But then the separation anxiety gets the best of him, and he decides maybe to just steer into the skid. It was that exact impulsive thought that landed him at her door at one in the morning, asking her to spar with him again. He needs to get better, he concludes; maybe if he can just learn to beat her, then that should eliminate the need to be embarrassed in front of everyone again. 

It definitely was not because he craved the proximity that he had been missing for the last day and a half. Nope. Eren Jeager absolutely did not want Mikasa to trap him in another compromising position that had him questioning everything he’s ever believed about her and their relationship.

But, you know, if it happens then it happens.

“You woke me up to spar.” It was half an inquiry, half a statement, confusion dripping with the question. She seemed annoyed, he thinks, but it was probably just from being woken up. “I’m not even dressed for this, Eren.” 

His attention is suddenly brought to the fact that the girl before him was indeed looking a little immodest, only wearing a loose-fitting white sleep shirt and shorts that just barely showed underneath the hem of the shirt. Whatever support her usual bra gave was gone, seeing as these sleep undergarments were designed for comfort, not working out. Eren swallowed thickly, now aware of how dry his mouth was.

“It’s fine, you look fine,” he chokes out quickly, and she’s about to protest about how this wasn’t about how she looked, but he cut her off first with a, “please? I need to get better. I feel...more comfortable when it’s just you.” 

But when he realizes the implications of this request, he started stuttering a correction, “I mean, you know, without everyone else watching me make a fool out of myself.”

“Nobody thinks that.”

“I’m pretty sure Jean thinks that.”

Mikasa sighed, assuming her fighting stance. “Fine. Hands up.”

At first Eren was successful in avoiding her takedowns. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line of avoiding irritating her injury even more and the fighting the scandalous thoughts that were harassing his sanity, his determination ultimately lost to the distractions. He eventually finds himself incapacitated yet again. Although, maybe he didn’t mind so much this time.

"How…ugh…" he whines underneath her. He looks up at the sky, just past her dark eyes, sifting through plans A-Z as to how he can make this predicament less frustrating. It just seemed to get more and more difficult each time he tried to fix it. 

Then an urge bubbles inside him again, and he couldn’t help feeling so curious and craving that eye contact he missed so much. Helpless to his own doings, Eren relents and initiates eye contact, wondering when she ever had this strong of a hold on him. 

To his surprise, Mikasa looks down at him coldly, because maybe she's also a little mad that he's been acting up with no explanation.

"You leave too many openings," she answers simply.

"How is this even fair, you watch me spar other people so you can study my style. Of course I'm predictable to you."

She looks puzzled, "So, you don't watch me?" 

Oh, Eren thought, how naive of a question. But at least it confirmed that she was oblivious to the way he has been looking at her lately. 

She shakes her head nonchalantly, dropping the question, and he's glad that her lack of emotion and physical distance (despite being on him) is keeping this from getting really awkward. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. ”Annie studied you too, that’s why she had the upper hand.” Eren winced at the bluntess of the statement, and at the fact that she was opening that old wound up again. “Look for an opening and take me down before I get you first. If you insist that I find you predictable, then change it up."

"Well...you're too good at this,” he tells her before he can think about it.

She blushes a little, caught off guard because she half expected him to jump on the defense, and he can't help but smile. The funny feeling in his stomach returns. 

"Again," she stands up and offers him a hand, and for some reason that is what sparks something in him: her compassion perhaps. The fact that she’s always willing to help him and is there for him no matter how impatient and irritable he can get. That he was confident that even at one in the morning he could wake her up and she would- maybe after protesting a little- ultimately give him what he needed (at this thought turned dirty, Eren huffs in annoyance). 

Mikasa really was his ride or die.

It really didn’t help that she was so fucking enticing either, and she honestly didn’t even have to try. Though he would never admit it to anyone else (even himself), Eren believed Mikasa was a pretty girl when they were younger. But then all these distractions came along in his adolescence and he had been completely oblivious to the firm grasp that puberty had on her until, well, today.

The realization hits him hard, slaps him in the face, and he almost wasn't ready when she came at him again. 

The second time around, Eren actually manages to take her down...but the moment of victory was cut short when he realizes how she looks underneath him. He has never seen her like this before. He's seen her vulnerable, of course, in battle, but never in this light: at night under the stars. It was just the two of them and no looming threat close by, so that they had the luxury to simply be immersed in some intimacy for once. 

She was just looking up at him, displaying this kind of voluntary weakness, some sort of unspoken submission, just for him. 

Eren's mind goes wild once more. He suddenly becomes hyper-aware of all the details again, especially since she wasn’t wearing her usual layers of uniform. He understood what she meant by she wasn’t dressed for this, seeing as this thin, flimsy sleep shirt was barely a barrier between them. He felt the way her chest curved nicely underneath his own, and how toned her torso was beneath that. His pants rode up a little, allowing him to feel how soft her legs were where those damn shorts exposed her.

The young soldier was completely slack, beneath him, but she wasn’t frozen in panic quite like he was. His figure towered over hers as he sat there, just drinking in the sight beneath him. He honestly expected her to push him off, chew him out for being such a pervert, and never speak to him again. What he didn’t expect was for her to blink a couple times and lick her lips before his name escaped her in such a way that drove him absolutely mad. 

Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck.

When he feels the blood rushing down south at an alarming speed, Eren makes the attempt to flee. But then her eyes darkened and it's like her fighter instinct flickered on once more. Before he can remove himself from the situation, he finds himself under her once again (how the hell did she move that fast anyway?).

She maintained eye contact and an expression that was completely unreadable and almost...predatory. Not that he wasn’t used to her being so indecipherable, and he had certainly seen this unforgiving, predative look on her face before in battle. But it was never directed towards him.

And shit, this was scary. And if he was going to be honest, he really couldn't tell if she was gazing at him with violent or lustful intent. 

Mikasa was seated dangerously close to his lower half, and the way her thighs just seemed to fit nicely around his midsection was making it increasingly difficult to think rationally. Her hands, he expected to be as calloused as his, but they were soft against his wrists. He briefly wondered how they would feel on less innocent parts of his body, if she ran those smooth hands down his chest, his abs, his…

Would it really be the worst thing in the world to reach up and just kiss her? Nobody would know.

He squirmed under her, hoping to any of the gods above that she couldn't feel him, again. Where did that thought even come from?? With each passing moment that silence enveloped them, Eren grew frustrated in anticipation. There was a sparkle in her eyes that seemed to be enhanced by the moonlight, and although he found himself entranced, it was still inconclusive.

He broke eye contact, turning his head away in an attempt to regain the composure that he felt slipping away way too quickly. She gives him a moment, then turns his attention back to her with a gentle finger to redirect his chin towards her. 

Eren felt his chest ready to explode and his pulse quicken dangerously. His heart was suddenly in his throat and his stomach was somewhere in ass. The anticipation of what she was going to do next was going to be the death of him, he thought. It really wasn't like Mikasa at all to be this bold and forward; was she actually going to...make a move? Come to think of it, he actually had no idea how she behaved when it came to these things. 

His questions were finally answered though when she looks down at him darkly and says, as aloof as ever, "never let your guard down." 

Suddenly he's mad. 

Suddenly she isn't on him anymore, discarded to the side, confused and dazed at his erratic behavior. Suddenly he's trying to catch his breath, irritated, angry, confused, hurt.

He cannot possibly be the only one who feels something else from this, especially with how she was looking at him just three seconds ago!

He runs his hands down his face, trying to calm down. Mikasa doesn't say anything- and her ambiguous silence is driving him absolutely nuts. Maybe steering into the skid was a terrible idea after all.

The walk back to the rooms was awkward and agonizing, and the fight between Eren’s rationality and raging hormones was at a high. He watches as she prepares to disappear into her own room and his mind flashes through a hundred different ways this next conversation could play out- none of which would be possible if he didn’t take action. Not to mention having to deal with this painfully annoying arousal that would more than likely keep him up all night. So he pulls her into his room instead at the last second, pushing her against the door and locking it behind her quickly. His hands are on either side of her and hers reflexively landed on his chest.

It was a completely impulsive decision, but there was no turning back now.

He gives her a once over and Mikasa finds herself utterly flustered at how intensely and hungrily he was looking at her. He presses closer, unsure of what his goal or endgame even was, he just wanted to be close, closer. He craved her touch, and at this very moment he wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over his best friend and feel her skin on his. Whatever rational reasoning that previously told him this was a terrible and inappropriate idea was making its way to jump out the window. The closer he pushed, the more magnetic she felt. 

"Mikasa…" he all but purrs, and he could have sworn she blushed profusely in the darkness. "do you have any idea…” he fished around for words, but the whole situation seemed to render him frustratingly incoherent. 

“What are you…” the words seemed to die out on her tongue.

When he looked up to meet her piercing gaze, Eren’s deepest fears from the last two days came true: he was instantly lost in the sea of emotions that her eyes held. And suddenly his mind was off, imagining her in the most lewd, titillating ways.

Eren rests his forehead gently against hers, her scent making his mind race faster as he realized he was probably overstepping a hundred boundaries at this point and crossing over into a whole new territory neither of them ever knew existed. Glancing down at her lips was the second mistake of the night, for the way she bit her bottom lip in anticipation nearly sent him over the edge. He was so close to giving in to these stupid, stupid urges, the only thing stopping him was the lack of reciprocation. 

Mikasa doesn't push him away, but he can feel how tense she is: her breathing was hitched, jaw clenched, hands keeping him a set distance from getting any closer. She seemed entranced by him, like she wanted to know what he was going to say and do next, but it didn’t seem like she was going to let him. 

He notices these little details; she's upset.

"Why are you frowning?" He deadpans. She softens, and one hand instinctively goes up to his nape, stroking his hair lightly, affectionately. He sighs, comforted by her touch, and she smiles gently at his submission.

"You've been very confusing lately," then she cuts right to the chase. "I know why you were upset yesterday."

Eren’s eyes snap back up to hers as he pulls away, cheeks growing warm. "Are you serious?"

She shifts the tone to catch and redirect his inner turmoil, her voice now just as breathy and needy as his. "You can talk to me, Eren. You can tell me anything," she was looking right into his eyes, taking him apart little by little. Did she even know what she was doing to him? But then she asked him something he was not at all expecting.

“Do you really find me that repulsive?”

“What?” it was his turn to be confused. Had he not made it crystal clear in the last five minutes that he wanted her, pretty badly? 

“You’ve stormed off twice now,” is all she said and suddenly it made sense why she was so confused and upset.

“No, god no, Mikasa,” his answer came quickly, almost desperate, like he was scared he would say the wrong thing and all of this would just go away. “You've been on my mind all damn day. I just...I didn’t know how...I thought you were…”

"You could have talked to me,” she offered, almost bashful as they danced around the real issue.

"I-! I wasn't gonna...that was embarrassing, Mikasa!"

She seemed to understand, but she wasn’t going to let him win. Taking a deep breath, she tugged at the hem of his shirt until he was pressed flush against her (and oh, she could feel him again). Eren gasps, his face falls onto her shoulder and a low groan escaped him before he could stop it. 

"Same thing," she breathes, feeling her face grow warm at his proximity.

"No," is all he can muster at this point as he slowly became aware that she was actually the one in control. Whether or not she was falling apart inside as much as he was, she hadn't made it obvious, and she got him to talk. He swallows and wills himself to explain in the least amount of words possible. "everyone was watching before."

"They didn't know," she countered easily. Eren watches as her eyes flicker to his own lips and he wonders if that was his go signal.

"Stop being so difficult," he growls. Whatever rebuttal she was planning to throw at him was forgotten when he pulls her in and finally kisses her, a final attempt to let her know exactly how he's been feeling in the last couple days. 

Mikasa’s lips were soft and warm and her hold on him was so gentle. It was nothing like the intimidating demeanor she displayed in forcing him to yield in battle. Yet, it brought him to submit anyway, wondering briefly how he managed to keep from giving into her like this. But Eren was a vindictive little shit, and after getting a taste of what he had been missing out on, he wanted more.

He leads her off the door and onto his bed, and studies how flustered she looks. It occurs to him that maybe he wasn't the only one frazzled and heated over all of this. So a sense of personal victory surges through him and manifests itself in some newfound confidence as he closes the distance between them once more. 

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eremika #eremika fanfiction #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #eren x mikasa #mikasa x eren #ao3

[my-moon-taeil]

NCT 127 members: thoughts, aura & vibes

Before starting I might explain what this consists of (obviously!) so everything is clearer. I was thinking about the members in NCT 127 and was wondering, simply, whom I’d truly get along with if I were to exist in the same spacious-temporal dimension; in other words, if I were to be friends with them (we may all have done that at some point, come on.). Anyhow, I wanted to share it here.

So you might understand why I say some things and why I’m feeling this or that way about each member, I might talk a bit about myself. I’m an INFJ, female, “feeling 22″ (sorry, I just cannot get this song out of my head). I’m perceptive, creative and quite confident in my skills. I am the mom friend™️, I like teaching others, helping, and showing the way. I am very sensible, empathetic, though I can be impatient when it comes to certain things. I’m a perfectionist and an idealist, too, which can be troublesome at times. I think INFJ really describes my personality so you might want to read more into that here, because describing oneself is actually something quite hard to do.

I am a new Nctzen, fell in too deep at the end of June 2019, so these feelings and the vibes I am getting from each member might also change or bloom with time. I might get all of this wrong, but in a way, there’s no real ‘wrong way’ to do this, as it is completely personal. It’s also totally self-indulgent, not gonna lie.

I talked about each member in alphabetical order, so it’s totally unrelated to the way I feel about each of them. Let’s get started, if you’re still interested! And as my friends would say (Karo, Holly, I see you)... tea time 🍵! p.s. you might want to do this yourself afterwards, it’s actually quite interesting to really consider it and go in deep!

🌹Doyoung: I feel like Doyoung and I would get along so well, in that casual but intimate way; we know we care for each other and there’s no doubt lingering, even in other’s people mind. And it’s exactly why we can be so casual about it - those who do not see it probably do not pay enough attention, because through the bickering it’s still very clear. We’d probably be the kind that’s together all the time and when we’re not people question it but we tend to shrug it off, even though we’ve been texting and snap-chatting stupid stuff to each other all day long. To me, he’s definitely someone I’d be close to, I know Doyoung is caring and passionate, and that is why we’d also be able to connect well; he’s someone who’d nag me a lot, and whom I’d like to tease back. Catch me brushing the hair out of his eyes and him whining about it. More often than not, though, he would not push my hand away.

🌹Haechan: I have no doubt in mind that he’d be the annoying little brother to me, the one always nudging, making me sigh and roll my eyes an alarming number of times in a single day. I feel like he’s the kind of person I’d be tired of being with for too long, but can’t help caring for anyway... He’s someone I think I’d look after even when I’m tired (of him, or in general haha), or annoyed, or want to be alone. Though, he is the youngest and acts like so, that is why our relation would not be that deep; the gap in both our personalities and maturity being too big. But, I can see he is growing up a lot, at a very fast pace, and he is becoming more responsible, and more aware of others, which I highly appreciate. It also means he is less and less in need to be babied.

🌹Jaehyun: Actually, Jaehyun was my first “bias” in NCT (if I can even call it like that), and the one to actually push me over the edge and make me fall into this fandom; but as weird as it may sound, I actually don’t know how my relation with him would go, were I to be around him. He’s definitely someone attractive, and seems chill and easy to get along with... I think we’d get along well, but I don’t see our relationship being anything special, nor deep at all - good friends who can joke around and enjoy time together, but mainly in a group. For instance, I do not see Jaehyun and I hanging out alone, though we surely would enjoy each other’s company, share good laughs, and consider each other friends. Then again, chemistry between people sometimes cannot be explained or predicted, so who truly knows!

🌹Johnny: Ah, Johnny. I get the biggest ‘big brother’ kind of vibe coming from him. I usually am the one wanting to protect and take care of everyone, and I would definitely like to care for Johnny, but I feel like he wouldn’t let me? And somehow, I actually do not see myself taking care of him the way I do with most of my friends, though I obviously would be a shoulder for him to cry on if he needs me to be. In a way, I have a feeling it would be mainly going one way. He’d be looking after me, but still would tease me to no end, a bit like he does to Mark. He’d be a ‘best friend big bro’, who would joke around but would become seriously overprotective at the slightest sign of discomfort or sadness coming from you. The type who’s like ‘who the hell made you cry I’ll show them some’, even though there’s no one to blame but yourself for your tears. A sweetheart.

🌹Jungwoo: I feel like Jungwoo is a bit the same as Jaehyun, when it comes to that ‘I’m not truly sure how it’d go’ feeling I have. He’s someone very soft and naive, very puppy-like, though sometimes extroverted and pretty awkward. I have known a few people like that in life, and got along with them, but only moderately. Being with them is renewing, because they seem to marvel at the simplest things in life, but my relation with them is never deeper than friendship or acquaintance; most of the time, it’s about hanging out with them in a group of friends, or them being a friend of a friend of a friend. Though, even if the relationship is not deep, I often find myself looking after them and truly caring for them. I definitely won’t be able to stop worrying for this clumsy baby and he’d probably be able to make me smile even when I’m tired and can get closed-off.

🌹Mark: There is something about Mark that makes me adore him, in a protective and prideful kind of way. To me, he has that ‘little brother’ vibe (it might be because he somehow makes me think of my own little brother, who’s 5 years younger?). Though I know it’d obviously be different; and really, no one makes me laugh like Mark. He has that aura that’s just.... young, and free, and each time I hear him rap or each time he just achieves something in general I’m feeling like a proud sister/mom. I love watching him grow and mature, and just cannot stop adoring him; though, as for Johnny, these strong feelings are not romantic, and I do not think they ever could be. Thinking about it now, I have never found myself actually caring in such a family-like way for someone I have never truly met, yet I truly feel like so towards the two of them.

🌹Taeil: Taeil... I do not know why, or how, but to me everything about him screams home and safety. It’s warm and cozy, and it brings me peace. I am pretty introverted and need time to myself, to recharge and just... be on my own, but even when tired and wanting to be alone, I feel like being around a person like him would feel as if I were alone (not in a bad way at all). By that I mean that being in his company is something that never draws energy, that never tires - it’s quiet and warm. I’d surely find myself gravitating towards him, in search of a comfort probably no one else could provide. I am pretty aware of how my eyes always find him first in a crowd, even without meaning to. If I’m honest, I likely would be romantically attracted to Taeil. In any case, he’s someone I’d always truly, fondly care for, protect and side with.

🌹Taeyong: I recognize myself in Taeyong, very much, very often, very deeply. He’s also someone I’d find myself gravitating towards, and no matter the nature of the relationship in the end, I think it truly has potential to become very true and deep. He’s someone with whom I really believe I could form a special connection. I think we’d find ourselves complementing each other and helping each other grow, because no matter how alike we are on some (most) matters, there are things we can learn from the other. I’d be a shoulder to cry on, and a place for him to stay after a long day and for him to be 100% himself. I want to be a shield, a shelter, and if needed, a sword. And I hope he would be that for me, too. On simplest things though, he’d teach me choreography, I’d teach him languages, we’d bake and cook together... all kind of things, really, and especially the things we share a passion for.

🌹Yuta: I think there’s something about Yuta I do not understand, something I cannot grasp, it’s very... fleeting. I am usually good when it comes to understand people, read them. But there’s something controversial about him, I don’t seem to make up my mind about him. I believe he’s someone who would make my mischievous side rise up and I think that together we’d come up with the craziest stuff and end up crying with laughter, or have really deep conversations and reinvent the world, fight for the ones in need with our two little hands; either one or the other, probably no in between. Most of the time though, we might not talk much with each other, or even interact at all? Unless there is something that would trigger the moments when we seem to... click. Maybe he is more like myself than I’d like to believe and that is why I can’t understand him completely, because he has that paradoxical side of him that makes him both one extreme and the other.

🌹Winwin: There is an undeniable sensibility about Sicheng, something that draws in the people around him. I very likely would not be able to resist it either. I am fascinated by the way he moves, and definitely would love to have him teach me his art (dance). He is someone very transparent (to me, at least), even though the language barrier has often made him look mysterious or simple. Our relation might be a mix of casual and caring, a silent connection based on understanding each other easily, mainly thanks to the sensibility we likely have in common. I think I would, even without meaning to, be aware of him and his state of mind. In the moments he gets too much unrequited attention, no words would be needed for me to understand; I’d take his side in hope to bring him some space and let him breathe.

#nct #nct 127 #kim doyoung #lee donghyuck #jung jaehyun #johnny suh #mark lee #moon taeil #lee taeyong #nakamoto yuta #winwin #dong sicheng #taeil #og #gen #!!!!??? #im actually posting this lmao #will someone read it? who knows #if you did read #feel free to come talk to me about it though i love discussing :') #💌💌

[textsacc]

prompt: 3.0

[<<]

the pinnacle of the hour. day’s two feet were on the edge of a precipice; all around her was a sea of unrelenting darkness, threatening to swallow the sky whole.

nothing more but a few minutes from now. the tides would rise, quickly, swallow her whole as it did with the rest of the playerbase, the humans that cardinal prided its systems around so much. and those glaring red messages that flooded her vision upon mere analysis; it stung her eyes. system errors weren’t supposed to do that.

so this was something bigger than her. bigger than aincrad.

up so high, the wind was chaotic. or perhaps it was the rush of emptiness, the lapping void devouring the world, freed what forces trapped the air from circulating as it should by nature. it was cold. the ends of her locks were prickling at her skin.

it was a personal decision then that she removed the clips on her hair, letting the tussled mess of gold roll down from a grasp. the breeze took it, holding it aloft with its strength. liberating, her move. but still her core lied unsettled, as day continued to watch the horizon stoically.

basked in shadows, it almost seemed as though the world was about to end.

the glow of her weapon, bright as may be in her hands, was nothing but a speck of abnormality upon this canvas. her feet slid against rubble, a mesh that normally wouldn’t be accessible nor supportive of a human’s measure. the entity had half a mind to lob it into the goop, hoping it would stick out like a sore thumb, one last hope amongst the pitch of nothing.

she held onto it, however. thought back to her reason of being here, at the edge of the apocalypse. thought back to her reason of being in general.

she wasn’t gone just yet, so perhaps...

the first few creatures started to form, stepping to her higher ground, black liquid trailing from what inconsistent caricatures they’d take on only after being looked at once. day gave them a glance to spare them from their misery of shifting, before looking at the stick in her hands.

would she’d die fighting? perhaps, if only in part for her sake? 

she’d known the answer all along, though it was never discussed between beings. system to system, nor player to cardinal. no, this was a long-forgotten perogative, ingrained in her being, foretold by the system above.

all along, it had always been written in the star.

a hound darted forward. day only needed to dodge to the side.

so that was it, then. if she would have to go down, an inevitable possibility, then she would go down on her own terms. her fingers twirled around the length of her spear. all at once, the puppets of the dark leapt to spring on her.

had cardinal read her in her final moments, maybe for once it would notice a tinge of surprise. for day wasn’t excited, nervous, nor afraid.

the one message it got from system entity id#[] was that it felt brave.

- - -

[1/4/--] i’ll see you on the other side.

- - -

[<<]

it wasn’t over. the moment orgoth’s words died on his lips and her ears, she knew something was wrong.

the wash of darkness was sudden. it took her breath before she could make out the edges of the tide, and before she could move, to shift and run and escape and hide, it swept her away, off her feet and off the ground. night wasn’t a great swimmer and it felt like she was drowning in liquid water, a freezing cold goop that was growing heavier on her skin, her clothes at every passing second. to rise to the top, to struggle for air -- in her fumbling around in free space, the exertion of her energy in extreme panic, a sudden sleepiness was starting to hit her senses hard.

no. no, she couldn’t go out like this here. this wasn’t what should be happening. was this normal for the front lines? she’d never been told-- an all out wipe wouldn’t make this a game--

the developers--

amidst her complaints, her thoughts rolling fast, the spinning of the world and the void around her -- god, that vertigo despite her reduced movement, it had to be system induced somehow -- her thoughts lead her back to a helplessness, a feeble state of mind.

ren felt herself track back to years, years ago. the feeling of wasting away, waiting, watching for nothing, nothing to happen to her at all. that pressure around her neck, cold pressing upon the small of her back, the ooze seeping and filling her lungs -- all of it was viscerally, monumentally damning.

night wanted to rid herself of ghosts.

in her last moment, ren prayed to find one instead.

( to take her hands into her own, to glue her sights to the ground, feel the fingers of comfort trail upon her palm the way she’d always done. in her company, her comfort, that she be selfish for once, only this once, for it was the end of the world.

tell me this isn’t real. she says, she pleads. tell me it’s all a dream. )

surely, someone would know what was happening to the boss raid, right? somehow, somewhere, their tales would be buried into the outside world. that someone knew what was happening to night in specific. that a remnant would remember ren as she once was.

( tell me, she continues. )

ren wondered for a heartbeat, before she closed her eyes, feeling her consciousness winking out of existence. 

( tell me an awful lie, day. )

ren wondered if her counter part was doing okay.

( tell me that [you love me.] )

- - -

item has been added to inventory.

+ Orgoth’s Wrath  | TIER 4 PERFECT 2HSS  | PHASE | HOLY | ACCURACY  |  —the wash of starlight, the old paradox.  | it's you. i swear i'd find you in the dark.

- - -

ren woke up.

she was tired. it was nine in the morning, and the bones in her limbs were aching all over. how many nights of crunch had it been, by this point? what assignments were left due, even? she didn’t want to think about it. by her luck, there was still so much more that was needed to be done.

best she got to it, then. the taste of coffee made from earlier this morning was sweet and dry; she could taste it on the flat of her tongue. from the window, the sun melted lazily onto the white sheets she laid under. it was warm, comfortable. even more so than the other days she’d been awake for. but she couldn’t sleep in just yet. just a little more...

a few bats of her eyelids and her world was set anew. in her eyes, through blurry vision, all she could spot was an angel.

and ren was lucky once more.

maybe homework could wait. she deserved a bit of time away from the mess. when she’d ever get a hang of software architecture, she’d never know. but the present was a gift; she was sure to understand that much. after all, her shining sun was right there with her. with every breath, every measure, every step of the journey to semester break.

how’d she get so...?

an arm was draped around ren’s waist, and fingers curled up against her wrinkled shirt. ren chided herself internally; should’ve put on something better last night, at least one of the less worn variants of her plain tees. and when did her other (they were friends, weren’t they? more than friends) get that cozy looking turtleneck?

between their shallow sleepy breaths, maybe these questions, their answers didn’t matter so much. being with her was nothing short of a miracle.

and so ren stayed quiet, watching and admiring the beauty in front of her. washed locks of full volume that flowed down to the sheets like a river, framing that petite face, smooth and delicate as though all the care in the world had gone into constructing such a figure. the way the front of her hair fell to the side of her image, that little hook at the edge of her parting; ren kept her gaze there if only not to stare too much, if only to avoid her eyes immediately falling onto her lover’s lips. no, she was sleeping, for heaven’s sake, and it would be a shame to wake her counterpart up, even if it meant she could be on top of the world for just another second.

they had forever and after to do it, to savour the vulnerable tidbits of affection and share them with each other. it wouldn’t be selfish to save them for now. the corners of ren’s lips curled into a smile, sights softening as the thought registered in her mind.

forever and after.

forever and after.

ren moved her fingers from the pillow to her other’s bare arm. she didn’t seem to stir at the first moment their skin met, and ren’s heart only pooled further with anticipation, with excitement. her palm moved further, down towards her love’s elbow. still, there was nothing save the slightest hitch of a breath in the woman’s snoozing.

adorable.

“lynn,” ren murmured, wondering if her voice would be enough to stir her double awake. true to form, the furrowing of brows only signified lynn’s attention to ren's name calling. and there were only butterflies left in the woman's stomach, a garden blooming in her heart, her chest, her throat.

“lynn,“ she called again, scooting closer for warmth, to provide a comfort to her other. her lover’s name rolled off her tongue as though it was the easiest thing to say in the world. “lynn, wake up.“

“nnn...“

soft eyelashes. they pulled lynn’s eyes open, revealing clear sapphires hiding behind them, full of haziness and clarity, a paradox living in her system. it was everything that ren wanted to live for in the moment. she couldn’t help but stare back, admiring the crux of her heart’s desires.

in that second, ren wondered what lynn might’ve wanted for breakfast.

“... night?”

in the next, the smile on her face hung midway through a greeting, and memories of everything started to trickle back in. her eyes had widened — slowly, surely, past the darkness, the shadows, the front lines, the floor boss—

( tell me an awful lie, day. tell me that— )

“day.“

that was all night needed to push herself backwards, fear blossoming from the chamber in her ribs where love once threatened to push through. her legs swung across the side of her bed, and night chided herself, gods she was a fool, and cardinal played her for it. at every step of the way she could’ve prevented this, prevented--

her bare feet touched the floor. and the window that blocked her vision from her room wrangled a short cry of alarm from the player, one of her hands settling on the mattress of her bed.

“night? --what is it?“

[a system update has been completed.]

a system update? behind her, the gemini hadn’t made mention of any further queries; most likely because she too had been greeted with cardinal’s message at a quick shift of their posture.

[due to the system update, please take note of your readjusted stats.]

it was too early to be processing such information, especially in the morning. had there been anything else of incredible note with this intel, night would not have likened herself to catch it. rather, her focus was set on her previous embarrassment, wanting to close out the windows in her face as soon as possible, and then maybe bound somewhere else to hide away from her counterpart in guilt and shame.

she tapped the confirmation icon and hoped it would be over soon.

[please reallocate your skill points.]

nevermind. by the looks of it, she'd be stuck here all day. to herself, night hoped the entity wouldn’t have remembered her spell from earlier.

the player said nothing, prodding at the window in silence, examining the vast array of changes on a familiar interface. how unnecessarily annoying -- sorting through the different charts and graphs holding the information would be the sort of work best suited for an information broker. a good use of her col and a saving of her time, too. it would be easier to discuss this with bistro over text instead of wading through its intricacies on her own; the woman examined the window’s top bar over, finding a minimize icon, finally, at the corner of its overlay.

she could save the debacle for later.

[as compensation for the update, a free item upgrade is offered to all players. please select three equipment pieces—]

no, she’d skip that too.

there was one more window underneath them all.

[item obtained: orgoth’s wrath.]

so the floor boss hadn’t been a hallucination, then. and the equipment piece itself looked incredibly potent, promising. one pull of it from her inventory and she held it up. a sword forged from--

wait. wasn’t this...

the standard blade woven together from pixels in her hands was nothing but a mesh of pure white. it glowed. it hummed in her grasp. it was the exact same type of weapon that her entity would’ve used on her own accord.

if anything, only its model was shaped differently. instead of

cardinal sucked at reusing weapons.

night let it zap from her grip, returning it into storage before her other could spot it. how strange -- and devastating. the player wondered if most everyone else got something similar to it, too. the thought of her exception only bred fie in her mouth, and the woman shook her head, pulling up her menus. if there were no other system issues to attend do, she’d let bistro know of her predicament and wait for further updates from the player base.

it was the least she could do.

literally, night didn’t want to do anything else but escape at the moment.

a glance towards the construct told her of the dutifulness of cardinal’s pawn. easily, night guessed, her other was focused on understanding the updates necessary for her software... or something. whatever it was she’d gotten, day was certainly putting in much more effort into comprehending the whims of her overlord. better her than night. it must’ve been as though she was reading a brief from upper management.

the player exhaled, pensive, her eyes locked on the mess of gold. even from behind, with her hair down, the day looked very much like...

--the name was stuck halfway between her throat and her mind. she couldn’t force it out even if she’d wanted to.

night swallowed the thought and rose from her bed.

the time was 9:42am.

her leave of the room must’ve caught her doppel’s attention, for partway through the door frame she heard a cry. “night! where’re you going?”

“i’m making breakfast.”

at the mention of food, day seemed to go quiet. or if she'd hollered, night wasn't paying attention to her voice (sweet as it may be). towards the kitchen, she retraced her memory; how the tides had pulled her under, how at the very end, only chains and the grotesque were left on the field, with shadow nowhere to be seen.

orgoth opened the flood gates, didn't he? and then...

in the comfort of her lonesome, she could finally acknowledge a heat growing on her face. and no, it wouldn't be a product of the crackling fire, the sizzling of butter and fried eggs and toast in the pan. the end of the world? what was she thinking? and what even was that weird black gunk? how'd she wake up in her bed?

(she knew it happened sometimes, but why was day in there last?)

too many questions, forcing an unwanted prayer. frustrating. were battles on the frontlines always this hectic, chaotic and unpredictable? she contemplated her stay with the fighters for a moment; with her spatula, she'd placed a serving onto one plate, and then another. her meal wouldn't be done yet, today. she needed to keep herself busy, try to find something else to think about.

a slinking of arms to her sides caught her off-guard, and the woman stopped, nearly spilling oil onto the floor as she froze.

“good morning~”

night’s breath was caught in a hopeless hitch. her back had straightened. no remorse, it seemed, from her doppel. with the player’s waist locked in an embrace, day rested her chin upon night’s shoulder with a smile on her face, peering over to watch the stove.

close. too close. when did the entity learn to be this touchy-feely with her, anyway? and all of that aside -- this was definitely not what she needed right now.

her knuckles gripping the spatula were growing white.

“please,“ night whispered in return, stiff and agitated and subconsciously steaming, all too aware of the distance between her and her other. the memory of the construct with her hair down came to mind -- incredibly distracting, that image. day hadn’t taken it off in the past. what happened to the clip that held it up before then? night winced slightly as she tried to sneak a peek towards her double’s image from the corner of her sights. bundled up in another messy bunch. like things were back to normal.

well, they weren’t.

they had an agreement, despite night’s hesitance to bring it up. was this some sort of second step in a plan to piss her off? through gritted teeth, she seethed further, her voice almost lost in an exhale.

“let me work.“

“hm?“ day’s glance over to the player’s exasperated look was all but in confusion, but even the entity could tell something was dreadfully off about their interaction. a bite of anger, an instant retaliation was often the norm -- this wasn’t it, and slowly, the system began to retreat from night’s personal space.

“oh, sorry.”

adherence from day was rare. the apology even rarer still. but night appreciated what little the construct had to offer, finally loosening her terseness, going back to weakly flipping around oversized sausages.

to recover, the pawn fell by her side, dropping her glow. “what’s for breakfast, then?”

“you’re looking at it.“

not that night had meant to be curt, leaning closer over the fire, playing it dangerous a tad bit, just to avoid the sight of her dopple from coming within her periphery. the player huffed, carrying over one of the wursts to the plate; when day caught it in a glance, she nodded, observant, watching the woman’s every move.

so night felt a little on edge when day hadn’t left after a beat.

“what do you want?“

day was quiet, in that moment. the anticipation was something else when night couldn’t observe her other’s facial expressions, stoic as they may have been. but in the wait, she toyed with the meat on the pan, bouncing it back and forth. if it was overcooked, night decided she would take it as her own serving.

"just to talk," day finally replied, locking two hands behind her back as she lumbered backwards with care. with each step, her eyes remained set on night's figure. the player couldn't shrug off the feeling of being watched. "while we're eating, perhaps?"

when the entity stopped, she turned to the refrigerator, fingers dancing across the screen. "let me grab us something to drink. blackcurrant or grape juice?"

surprise me, night had wanted to say without thinking.

"the latter," she requested instead, earning a nod and a hum in confirmation for her choice. with a small sigh, night continued with her duties, dropping the wurst from the pan to the plate with a scrape. while day wasn't looking, night felt a hint of vengeance, wondering if it would matter had she swapped the platters around.

she decided against it. it wasn't her fault that the gemini, too, had inquiries. the pair moved at roughly the same pace; day first with her glass cups and green carton, night next with the meal spread, after turning off the stove fire.

they settled quickly in. the player chose to focus on her own food, in fear of being questioned relentlessly for what had transpired this morning.

(or last night. she wasn't responsible for it, was she? she knew getting comfort once in a while was a bad idea--)

"so the boss fight," day started, working on the dish ahead of her, silver cutlery held fast in her hand. night's fluster was subtle, hopefully; her eyes darted from the slice of meat on her fork to her respondent, mouth partially agape. "how'd it go?"

"well, i made it back out alive, didn't i?" playing it cool was a good sign. the player popped her tidbit into her mouth, chewing it slow -- her hands shifted to pry a tear of bread away, sectioned off to the side.

"that's not what i meant." in her inelegance, day's eyes were dead set on night's on image, speaking with her mouth half full, food pushed to the side of her cheek. efficient for clarity. her glare paired with a huff was almost cutting (and almost kind of cute).

night raised a brow, wondering if she should take a sip of juice now to hide a smile. "then what do you mean?"

"like..."

the entity's voice trailed off, eyes falling elsewhere. night stuffed the readied portion into her mouth, dipped in yolk, before her lips could contort on instinct. "was anything... out of the ordinary?"

oh, day. night narrowed her eyes, lips pulled in a thinner line, annoyed by the idea that she couldn't even savour her toast before being asked critical questions.

"not that you've been up against a floor boss before, obviously." the construct, eyes closed, returned to dividing her meal further, knife splitting the skin of her wurst.

thank you for the vote of confidence, night thought back, halving a slice off a corner of her bread.

"--but i was thinking about... how you should've headed out to the twenty-sixth right after you got done."

(and what, was she to confess her prayers, now?)

"... i don't remember you coming home."

the player was quiet, chewing at her meal, leering at her target through slits, trying to conjure up a response. what truth was there to hide? she wasn't even aware what lurked on the twenty-sixth to have mentioned its contents as proof -- unless she lied. but system cardinal was something that knew all. it would be a foolish maneuver--

"i was there," night justified, trying not to look suspicious, "on the new floor, i mean. it was... filled with snow. like, glaciers and ice, instead of... sheets of white."

the duo shared a pause. day remained blank, unconvinced.

night simmered in her creativity for a moment.

"a small hare passed me by as i started walking."

"that's not even remotely true," the entity replied, wrist hitting the table. "and you know it."

do i?

what was she trying to pull off in the first place, lying to an entity like this? one part of her prized that it was in amusement, the other thought it better to stray the conversation away from day's original ideas, the questions she'd have about what night believed best to keep under wraps. for a moment, she wondered too if she could get her other to spill a secret or another; sure, she hadn't been to the next floor after the waters swept her away, but she had a walking compendium by her side.

day would know more than her about the matter.

absentmindedly, night twirled the metal in her hand and suddenly remembered she had a meal to go through before the rest of her work began. and here she'd nearly forgotten about it, in an attempt to push against her opponent's curiosities. "and how would you know?" she quipped back, raising the fork to her lips for a moment. "you weren't there."

"because all i could remember is--"

waking up next to you.

"-- and i know that's not how boss fights usually end, night. didn't you get a message too when you woke up earlier? the system..."

those words; surreal to hear. so much for trying to stay away from them. night had stilled at their mention -- an awful bit of soul shattering, the woman's breath going unsteady, shaken her to her core.

had it never been said, she could've played it -- no, them, those occasions -- off as an exception, an impossibility, something that would live and die and only exist in the moment. like a secret or a truth or an injustice long forgotten, dying on the final seconds of its passing. now it was the player's turn to blank out, too jolted to have comprehended day's words as the entity bit back retaliations, relaying explanations against her.

at the back of her mind, a fear echoed to her.

lynn, she'd breathed. lynn, wake up.

day waited for a response, but nothing ever came. instead, the woman just soured in quiet, taking a bite of her food, keeping her eyes downwards. in silence, too, the entity hesitated. only after a few seconds did she prompt her other,

"well?"

it hung in the void between them.

"night," the system iterated. the player was perceptive enough to hear it; her glance to day was but a lone reply. "did it not happen? or did you not hear me?"

"i heard you," she lied again, keeping herself curt. "nothing happened."

"..."

this time, night didn't even feel like elaborating.

day merely eyed her; wary, tired -- saddened? -- but resumed eating, portion stuck part way through her lips as she turned her gaze elsewhere, chewing upon it slow. they continued their meal in silence; night clearing her plate first, taking the emptied mess over to the sink with a patient stride.

where one figure felt empty, the other was full, brimming. and it wasn't night.

past the morning, the player didn't feel like speaking to her doppel in the slightest.

#writing for a vrmmorpg

[homestuckexamination]

What is Time in Homestuck? What is its function, its purpose, what are timelines, what defines the Alpha and doomed timelines. How do timeloops work?

Time in Homestuck takes from a couple of theories about the workings of Time and Parallel Timelines. So, Time itself doesn’t have any Function, much like in real life, instead, Space and Time are treated as the two main building frames of a physical reality, to the point where the Universe Frog requires a Space and Time players to actually even be possible to be created.

Going in detail though, according to Homestuck’s Interpretation, there’s an Alpha Timeline that marks a path that must be followed, but there are alternate realities, sometimes required by the demands of the Alpha Timeline itself, where divergent Choices and Actions from the various characters have led to a deviation from this path that needs to be followed. A Time Loop is nothing more than ensuring no Paradoxes are created while following this Alpha. For example, according to the Alpha Timeline, Lil Cal ends up in Jack Noir’s possession, and eventually is shot through a meteor portal into Alternia. This is a stipulation that must be followed, so in the Timeline where John dies because Terezi sent him to see Typheus early? We learn with John’s ghost, that Typheus didn’t actually just insta-murder him, he gave him a Choice, to Die for the benefit of the Timeline. The thing that doomed the Timeline wasn’t John dying- It was Dave prototyping Lil Cal. Davesprite needed to exist, because without Dave preventing Lil Cal from being prototyped, Lil Cal would become a sprite, and thus never get to Alternia. This is the kind of Paradoxes Stable Timeloops want to avoid, and the reason this Timeline leaves behind a Doomed Rose. We see in a couple of occasions, Daves dying when a Time Loop is broken- When Dave screws up Time-Travelling, he creates an offshot Dave that doesn’t become ‘future Dave’, instead it’s its own iteration of Dave unrelated to the Alpha Timeline, and as such, Doomed to die. Davesprite manages to become un-Doomed by Prototyping himself into Davesprite, and thus becoming an integral part of the Alpha Timeline, rather than a Doomed Version.

Of course this still leaves the question of what the Alpha Timeline itself is. After all, we see dead God Tier Trolls, implying that actually becoming god-like is somehow not Alpha, and thus rendering the explanation of the Alpha Timeline being the ‘best’ or ‘most beneficial’ path impossible. No, in fact, the entirety of the Alpha Timeline is filled with Death and Suffering and awful things and characters being erased off the story.

This is because the Alpha Timeline is, in reality, a Time Loop that favors the Lord of Time, Caliborn. All the Alpha Timeline does is ensure Lord English is created and does what he does in the story, after all, he IS the Lord of Time, and he Commands Time itself. Paradox Space bends to his will.

[S] MSPA Reader: Mental Breakdown is a quick example of one of the Alpha Timeline’s most important devices- Lil Cal. A Juju which contains the Essence of Lord English, and needs to follow an EXTREMELY specific path to reach where it needs to reach, dividing in two at one point to become an Entry in Caliborn’s Land, through which he spreads his influence, and in which he eventually becomes trapped, and an Exit in the Lil Cal Dave has, which eventually ends in Gamzee’s Possession, and is ultimately used to convert Jack Noir into a Proxy for Lord English.

Everything in Alpha Timeline is delicately crafted to eventually lead to Caliborn’s Rise. Lil Cal is not just the Entry and the Exit, the Vessel for His Soul, it’s also the only reason why Caliborn manages to achieve full, unconditional Immortality. When he reaches Yaldabaoth’s Boon, he uses the Juju Breaker Crowbar to obtain Inconditional Immortality. Crowbar which he’s had since before he actually met ‘Crowbar’ from the Felt. Crowbar which was gifted to him by Gamzee of all people, the Troll who raised Calliope and Caliborn. Gamzee needed to be there to raise the twins, and he offered the tool that would eventually grant him Immortality. And how did both Gamzee and the Crowbar get to Caliborn? Through the Black Hole created after killing the Jack Noir possessed by Lord English through Lil Cal. Black hole which ALSO absorbed a majority of LOTAK, including its core, where the Denizen Yaldabaoth himself was, making it seem like everything relevant to Caliborn’s Session arrived there in the first place only thanks to Lil Cal.

Similarly, even the God Damn Retcon favors Lord English, even though it seems like a Canon-Breaking tool, even though it seems like something meant to bypass the Alpha Timeline in the first place, it’s actually a necessary tool for Lord English’ creation- Without the Retcon Powers, John would’ve never reached Caliborn’s Masterpiece, becoming stuck in the House Juju with the other three Betas. He wouldn’t have led the Kids that would, in turn, defeat Caliborn and suck his Soul, ARquius’ Soul and half of Gamzee’s into Lil Cal to create the amalgam known as Lord English. And without the Beta Kids stuck in the House, it would’ve never been filled in, and thus become the double-edged sword that would eventually cast Lord English into the Breach.

But of course even the Retcon favors Lord English- After all, he kills the Author. Caliborn interacts with Hussie through the Command Prompt, and physically smacks the website around on several occasions, as well as glitches the cartridge containing the data to continue the story. Doc Scratch and Vriska seem to be the only other characters in the comic to even be aware of the existence of Hussie as the Narrator- With Scratch being part Lord English, and Vriska literally getting angry at Hussie for switching the narrative just as she was about to reveal the House Juju, and tearing it back from him to show everyone what was in the Juju Chest. A Villain that messes with the Narrative itself would definitely still benefit from a tool meant to break the narrative. And in the same way, when the Villain of the Story has control over not just Reality, but the direction of the Narrative, the only two that can oppose it are a Character who Knows they are in a Story and Wants to be the Protagonist, and a Protagonist who Can Alter the Narrative and just wants to be Happy.

As such, Homestuck takes the idea of ‘parallel timelines’, and throws us a scenario in which an evil entity has basically overwritten Free Will through imposing himself in a very specific path, so if I had to give a short answer to the question of what “Time” and “The Alpha Timeline” is? I’d have to answer, The Alpha Timeline is Homestuck in itself, both the story and the struggle of the characters as they navigate through it.

( From this point downwards, these are my THOUGHTS and opinions, and may not reflect what’s strictly Canon or what may happen in the future )

This ties in to my thoughts on why I think Act 7 is good, contrary to what many in the Fandom seem to believe. We’re shown Caliborn’s rise to immortality, the beginning of his journey towards becoming Lord English, and eventually becoming the big villain of the story, contrasted with Vriska inserting herself in the role of the Heroine, even though everything was already set in the story for this exact same culmination and all she did was take the spotlight by opening the Juju Chest, and the Release of the Kids from the Alpha Timeline to live in Earth-C, free of the influence of Lord English, of the grasp he’s had on their choices and their existence.

Already at the very beginning, John himself states it clearly. 

It is your thirteenth birthday, and as with all twelve preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon’s faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.

When the Kids cross the threshold of the Door to the new Universe, the story ends canonically, because they’ve escaped the Time Loop known as the Alpha Timeline, they’re beyond English’ Realm. They are no longer Stuck, and they’re free to make their choices without fearing the creation of an offshot Timeline or worrying about what may happen in the future.

It’s my belief that the fact we see Caliborn with the Ring of Life Calliope has, that two Nannasprites exist without one dying, and a few other details such as Caliborn stating seeing himself surprised at the Kids appearing to face him using John’s Retcon Powers, means that this is not following the Alpha Timeline at all by the ending. John’s ‘I’ll do it’ has sparked many theories about this being the conflict that sparks John to want to go back to fight Caliborn, but it has always seemed nonsensical to me. John is depressed, Terezi is looking for Vriska, but for most of the part, they’re happy. They’re content with having gone through the hardships of the Game, and now being able to just live their lives. I could maybe see John using a fight with Caliborn to mask his emotions, but I can’t see him convincing Rose, happily married to Kanaya, that they should go back to beat up the stupid asshole that keeps Trolling him through Snapchat, using his highly dangerous Retcon Powers.

To me, it always felt that this was the result of a Timeline we didn’t see, but may see in the Epilogue, and even though there are ways to make it work, it ties perfectly well to this theme of breaking out of the Alpha Timeline, that by the end of the comic, we wouldn’t even be following the Timeline that spawns Lord English, and rather, the one the John we’re following, seeing master these Retcon Powers, creates following Terezi’s Instructions.

Ironically enough, this Timeline ends as an empty victory for both John and Terezi. John, with his adventure over, and having never seen inclined to even think what he may want to do after it’s over, is now left alone with his thoughts, the trauma he’s went through, and missing his father, while Terezi, who in the Game Over Timeline thought all she needed to be happy was Vriska, realizes that even that is more of a patch for some deeper self-steem issues, and yet continues to try to chase after her around the crumbling Paradox Space for no avail for years.

It’s my belief, when the Epilogue comes out, that we will see a distinction between the Timeline in which John reaches Earth-C, and the one in which they all go to Caliborn’s Masterpiece, as well as have Terezi return to Earth, not with Vriska, but with Davepeta, Sollux and Aradia, who are still potentially alive and out there. But that’s mostly because I don’t think Vriska should survive the encounter with Lord English.

Vriska herself, in this case, climatically becomes what she’s always wanted to be, the protagonist, only by her desire to be as such. She treats the Game of SBURB like a Game, and similarly, she treats Homestuck like a Story, a Story in which she wants to be seen as the Heroine. Not for Noble or Heroic reasons, but merely for the hell of it. She becomes the perfect Counterpoint to Lord English- The man who set the Alpha Timeline, whose existence jeopardizes the entirety of Paradox Space, the unseen, mysterious hand behind every event. Lord English becomes the Villain of the story, and Vriska takes advantage of it. A story needs a Villain and a Protagonist, and with John more focused in his Friends than the Big Bad, she steals the role for herself, which would make seeing her never actually return, all the more fitting. Act 7 is the Finale. It’s the End of the Alpha Timeline, the End of the Story that is Homestuck. So of course, once the curtains are drawn, both Villain and Protagonist are out of the picture entirely.

#Homestuck #John #Vriska #English #Caliborn #Long Post #Time #Lord #Cal #Breach #Canon #Theories #rapture #retcon #masterpiece #Doc #Terezi #Rose #Dave #Davesprite #hussie #jack #typheus #yaldabaoth #earth-c #End Of Homestuck #Homestuck Spoilers #HS Spoilers #Spoilers #Denizens

[gosetmind]

How to distract your thoughts [AND calm your mind]

Everyone has pleasant thoughts or emotional experiences, but there are also some thoughts and emotions that can only make people frustrated or nervous.

When we are nervous, our minds often seem to think about the millions of things at the same time, and the last thing we want is a mess. Therefore, it is important to be able to take a little time to calm down, to be able to see a thing from a holistic perspective, and then learn to put it down.

Here are a few ways to distract your thoughts. We'll first explore why people are entangled in certain thoughts or emotions, and then give you advice on how to solve the problem.

Focus on your current affairs

  Thinking sometimes wanders away from the "backstage" of the brain, so focus it immediately on one of your current thoughts, and realize that there is often more than one thought in the brain - and some of the thinking in the back of the brain is less noticed by the brain. You can say to yourself, "That's how I feel right now.""Or "I'm thinking about it now" so that your mind will focus and you don't continue to wander away. But usually when you really focus on a thought, you can quickly put it down because the brain thoroughly scanned it.

When you appreciate a picture of peace, your brain is easy to calm down and let go of some thoughts, but don't think hard about what you're going to forget.

Look at your thoughts and understand how your thoughts and feelings control you

When we look at some of our thoughts, it's not hard to see that a thought actually has two sides - themes and processes. The process is the activity in which you think or experience emotion.

Sometimes the brain's thought process has no subject, and the brain is in an irrational and wild state of consciousness. This is because when a person feels physical pain, the brain feels afraid. It activates protective mechanisms, and uses an idea to appease or distract itself. If you look at your brain in a way that looks at the machine, you'll find that the brain is simply just casually grasping an idea as the subject of one's own thinking.

The idea of having a theme is often more obvious, and you may feel angry, worried, or feel other things about what you think, which is often repeated many times and is tightly centered around a topic.

Being kind to yourself, gives your brain a positive hint that it's good to let go of unpleasant thoughts.

Realize that self-blame is useless

If you blame yourself for the subject matter of certain thoughts, the problem becomes even more difficult. For example, you may be wondering how much you hate someone and immediately feel guilty or angry about your thoughts.

In fact, letting go doesn't mean you're going to distinguish right from wrong, it's not about you tell right from wrong. Don't feel that frustration, worry, hatred and anger are wrong, and don't feel that these emotions shouldn't exist and shouldn't affect us, otherwise, once you start blaming yourself, more problems will arise. There will be a root in your mind. The deep cause-and-effect process is built and will become more difficult to control in the future.

Accepting your thoughts and emotions is the first step in letting them go, and self-blame is often the beginning of more problems. Self-blame makes your brain impose a series of unrelated thoughts and emotions on you. Keep in mind that all the tools I use to manipulate come from the brain, so the brain manipulates the body much more than we think. Some parts of the brain sometimes sink. Obsessed with things that cannot be self-indulgent, and thus indulge our desires, so that we are enslaved by desires. In general, the driving force behind all our thoughts and emotions is desire. 

Think about how you're related to these thoughts and emotions

The mind runs by habit, so even when you think you've forgotten a thought or emotion, they still bounce back. It's time to make up your mind to let go again. Not only to stop this series of thoughts from resurgent, but also to prevent them from entangled in newly formed thoughts or emotions.

The difficulty lies in the central problem: we must radically alienated the brain from thought themes and processes about thoughts or emotions. If we realize that this thought theme and process is not good for our lives today, then the problem can be solved. However, we do not want to ignore the themes and processes of some thoughts and don't think they're going to increase our stress because we want to figure out what this thought means (that is, when we have anger, anxiety, and so on, we want to figure out who we're thinking about, where we have it, what it means, and why we think about it).

This desire to "find out" is even stronger than the desire to put it down, in which case it becomes more difficult to put it down when it is overcome by another stronger desire. If you're just tangled up because you want to tangle, you'll be in a paradoxical situation if you don't pay attention (on the one hand, you want to put it down. On the other hand, you want to figure out what your thoughts and emotions mean). At this point, although the brain is suspected of getting out of control, in fact, your brain is still in control of the mind, so you can use this self-struggle to distract yourself. In the face of the powerful thinking of "I want to figure it out", you have to say to yourself, "Okay, it's time to put it down" all the way to your heart. The desire to put down is stronger than the desire to continue to tangle.

Another problem is that emotions are often seen as part of the self. We are usually reluctant to admit that it is we who sometimes make us feel pain and sorrow. It has long been taught that "all" emotions are precious and part of who we are. But what we don't know is that there are emotions that don't cause tension, but.There are also emotions that cause tension. The explanation is clear: you need to spend enough time looking at your thoughts and emotions without any self-blame, and then decide whether they are worth cherishing or better to put them down.

Thoughts distraction in practice

  If you have a thought around a topic that you want to forget about, try these experiments:

1. Try not to think of a polar bear, or more surprisingly, a coffee-drinking purple flamingo with dots. The experiment is very old, but it can effectively demonstrate the power of thinking. And as a result of this experiment, the harder you try not to think about polar bears, the more you struggle with polar bears' thoughts. As with the sign of an unpleasant thought, you need to tighten your nerves when you do so, and the subject you want to forget is the subject of your best efforts. So the harder you try to avoid polar bears, the more distinctive the polar bear's image becomes.

2. It's like you want to put down a pen.

To put down this pen, you must first take it.

You keep thinking about putting down the pen, you have to hold it all the time.

Logically, if you still hold the pen, but keep the thought of "put it down" in your heart, you can't put it down.

The more you focus on "I'm going to put this pen down," the more you can't put it down.

Don't deliberately struggle with certain thoughts and emotions so you can let go

The above-mentioned truth also applies in thinking. The more desperate we try to put aside a thought, the more we will focus on that thought and the more tension and stress we will put on the brain. The more we respond to the protective effects of an attack, and the more we can't let go. To break out of this vicious circle, learn to relax. Release your hand, the pen will fall off on its own; relax your brain, and unpleasant thoughts will disappear automatically. If you've tried desperately to forget one thing before, this reaction to self-struggle and self-protection may already be ingrained in your brain, and you'll need a little time to break the inertia.

That's what the brain is all about. When we are entangled in thoughts and emotions and desperately trying to destroy them, they are relying on no place to go and firmly stay in our minds. Only when we relax can we really distract our thoughts and put it down.

Techniques to deal with thoughts and emotions

There are many ways to deal with recurring annoying thoughts and emotions, and here are some examples for you to refer to:

1. Is there a book, a movie, or something you've seen or done so many times that you're tired of it? If so, think of those ideas as movies until you get tired of them, so you can easily put them down.

2. If you can't put it down, manipulate it. Play it back in your head, twist it, change it, and eventually you'll find that you're the one who's leading it. Although a softer idea replaces an unpleasant one is only a temporary one, it is also effective. Forget when you twist an idea to an acceptable level.It's easier.

3. Clear measurement standard. There are two benefits to a clear measurement: one is that you can detect it quickly when something unpleasant happens, and the other is that it can provide you with a way out of negative thoughts and emotions.

4. If you're entangled in an emotion, ask yourself, "Is it good for me," or "Is it helping me," or "I don't want that emotion." If you find this emotion to be of little benefit, then realizing it can support you overcome it, get rid of it, and regain your self-confidence.

5. Practice meditation. Meditation can help you focus on your current affairs, which can help you move away from the controls that haunt your thoughts and emotions.

6. Imagination. If you're a busy person, imagination will work for you. Here's an example:

Imagine a beautiful, empty, flower-filled wilderness or other pleasant scenery. Explore inside and enjoy the blue sky and fresh air. Then imagine a city uprooted in this wilderness, with tall buildings, streets and cars everywhere. Now, let the city disappear and return to the empty, beautiful wilderness.

The picture you imagine has the following meaning: the field represents our brain. It turned out to be empty as well as calm. But rising cities are like the thoughts and emotions we force to add. With the passage of time, we slowly adapted to the city's noisy existence and forget the once foot of the wilderness, but that piece of calm never left. And when you put those thoughts and emotions down, the high-rise buildings on the field disappeared, and the calm and serene wilderness came back. You know, unpleasant thoughts and emotions are just tall buildings built on calm fields, and you can destroy them at any time and embrace the land of happiness and serenity. Accept your negative thoughts and feelings and let go.

How can i calm my mind

  To calm the impetuous mind, you don't necessarily need to do long-term body-building events to cultivate, master some tips about emotions, soothing impetuousness is a very simple thing.

1. Comfort Object

Winnicott has proposed a concept called "transitional object", which represents the transitional object, often a blanket, an old dress, a soft doll, or some repetitive action, the real transition object refers to something between the mother and the external object.

The transitional object exists in the transition phase of the baby from the perception that he or she is the one with the mother with the perception that he or she is separated from the mother.

Transition object is the mother's substitute, often with the mother's soft, touching, intimate characteristics, can help the baby to fight anxiety, loneliness, is the carrier of the baby's sense of security and dependence.

So when we feel impetuous, we can choose to stroke some soft dolls, which can help us experience the feeling of peace of mind, soothe our impetuous mood, as if back to the mother's warm embrace.

In addition, when touching soft things, our body secretes endocrine and oxytocin. These hormones are hormones that make people feel calm and content.

We also secrete these hormones when we embrace the people we like.

If you want to fight impetuousness, you have to grasp the characteristics of what we like about softness.

2. Cold

People's mood will be affected by the weather. On cloudy days, many people will feel unhappy. On sunny days, many people will feel happy. This phenomenon may be related to the amount of sunlight caused by the body secreted pineal hormones difference.

In addition to the short weather will affect people's mood, there are also continuous seasons can also affect people's mood, psychologically known as seasonal psychological disorders.

In late spring and early summer people are more likely to develop mania until the end of autumn, and in late autumn and early winter people are more likely to develop depressive emotions until the end of late spring and early summer.

Seasonal psychological disorders are often related to physiological rhythm disorders and endocrine disorders that occur with seasonal changes.

This can be artificially manipulated, for example, in a cold winter, order a glass of iced drink will make our hearts feel cold.

When we feel impetuous, we can try to drink some cold drinks, or take a bath to change our physiological feelings, and then change the impetuous psychological feelings.

3. Sort things out

Impulsiveness is divided into two situations. The first is impetuous mood, which relates to the cycle of emotions; the second is impetuous because of specific things. These two kinds of impetuousness cannot be solved in the same way.

When we feel impetuous because of something specific, such as debt, it makes a person impetuous, we cannot escape the problem, but to sort things out, especially in an interesting way.

Debt only gives one person a part of the trouble, and the other trouble comes from the fact that he doesn't know as much about it as he thought he did, and he doesn't know the details of his specific debt.

Therefore, the person can try to draw the date of the debt, the amount, the repayment plan, as well as his every consumption situation.

In doing so, he would be very interested in his bills and would have a sense of identity with them.

This method can also be used for other specific things, and the specific things can be sorted out in an interesting and detailed manner.

4. Immersive experience

Impetuousness is a mentality that doesn't want to know things, it's like a white bear in the white bear effect, it's a compulsive concept.

When we deal with impetuousness, we can choose between two methods.

The first is to do some mechanical action.

For example, staring at your own clothes, and then constantly meditated on the heart of this dress is good-looking, or keep playing with their fingers, so that we can concentrate, naturally indulge in things, also remove impetuousness.

The second way is not to do mechanical action, but to do activities that will allow us to experience an immersive, such as playing games, listening to music, etc.

Try choosing songs with light rhythms, or you can choose songs with soothing rhythms that often change people's moods, whether high or low, to help calm your mind.

Conclusion

Practice makes perfect. If you practice more, the more negative thoughts and emotions will be distracted. Remember, inner thoughts and emotions are like the weather, they come and go, like clouds and snow, and you are the day.

It's helpful to know your brain, you just have to relax and take a little time to take a good look at your thinking activities and how they react to the outside world. You want a scientist who observes new species to be as meticulous about the brain's habits.

If you need, you should talk to a psychological consultant and don't worry about looking for help because it is good for your mental health.

It's easy to indulge in pleasant emotions, but these emotions come and go, and we can't expect to have them forever, but you can use them as a measure to identify your thoughts and emotions and calm yourself down.