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headspace-hotel · 11 months

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An attempt at summarizing the controversies that embroil mycorrhizal network research:

a bunch of scientists are miffed at how the media has taken "plants communicate and distribute nutrients through the mycorrhizal network" and run with it, finding the "mother tree" thing too anthropomorphizing and too presumptive about something very poorly understood

unfortunately all of the major models for understanding the mycorrhizal network are anthropomorphizing, even the more competition-centered ones...to the point that papers discuss whether the network is a "capitalist" or a "socialist" system

other researchers, screaming STOP USING LOADED TERMS THAT PROMOTE AN ANTHROPOCENTRIC INTERPRETATION

But, setting aside the question of whether trees can "intentionally" do something or be altruistic...how do we know the plant is the one in control? Are the trees "sending" nutrients or is the fungus taking the nutrients and sending them to other trees? Wait, how do we assign agency in a system like this at all? Isn't it unscientific to assume that any part of the system, fungus or plant, is consciously acting? Wait...are they actually separate organisms with their own interests, or is it more accurate to view all the members of a mycorrhizal network as one big super-organism? (Wait, is it anthropomorphizing to consider organisms as having interests? If yes, how do we describe what's happening using language?)

Basically, yes we have demonstrated and established that nutrients move from one plant to another plant in the mycorrhizal network, including from fully grown trees to saplings, plants in sunlight to shaded plants, and other things that are definitely fun to interpret as one plant "helping" the weaker plant. However, we don't actually know the intentions of plants, so for all we know, the fungus could be doing everything. Or it could be completely stupid to describe any of it as "one individual organism in the network Intentionally Does A Thing."

Big Problem: Although a shit ton of research is being done, most research in the mycorrhizal network is done on very simple networks of 1 or 2 plant species with a handful of selected fungal inoculants in otherwise sterile laboratory settings. These conditions do not reflect the natural world at all.

in fact, experimental conditions used to study mycorrhizal networks are mostly completely unlike anything that would ever exist...you know, Outside,

most of the research pertains to agriculture and there are many demonstrated benefits, and many farmers are ALREADY using methods to promote mycorrhizal networks, but my guess is that it's not as simple as matching crops up to fungal inoculants that help them for instant 20% yield increase, at least in Real Outdoor Soil with an existing microbiome and seed bank.

Roughly speaking, 50% of mycorrhizal associations benefit seedling establishment, and the remaining 50% are themselves split halfway between "no effect" and "negative effect." Doesn't this mean that the mycorrhizal network is not always chill and altruistic?

Well, those findings might mean absolutely nothing either way, since in a field-setting plant community, there are dozens if not hundreds of fungi species (the diversity and number of specialists increases in later-successional communities) that are part of the mycorrhizal network, and through them any given seedling might be linked to a thousand different plants.

Some researchers find it puzzling how so many mycorrhizal partnerships seem to have no effect. Maybe the effect only comes online in certain conditions?

Parasitism, mutualism and commensalism aren't fixed types of relationship, and two partners in the mycorrhizal network can and do switch between the three constantly. This is another problem: the experiments don't usually follow both partners in a plant-fungal pairing to the end of their natural lives, and it's been shown that a fungus can be mutualistic early in a plant's life and later on become more parasitic (for example). Or that a fungus can be beneficial in poor soil conditions and become parasitic in rich soil conditions.

But...is this really best understood as a situational switch between types of symbiosis, or can we judge it by the net effect on both partners throughout their life spans, or...my brain is breaking

Like, a fungus that mostly decreases the fitness of the host plant, BUT becomes very helpful in the presence of extreme drought...is it a parasite or mutualistic partner?

Some researchers lean toward a source-sink model where nutrients tend to flow toward plants that are most lacking and away from plants with most abundance. This is a rough approximation of something ridiculously complicated

Plants can and do select fungal partners to pair with and reject fungi that contribute fewer benefits.

Fungi also appear capable of selectively distributing resources based on the fitness of the host, or at least they did this one experiment where the fungus was connected to two different trees and researchers ripped all the leaves off one of the trees. This caused the fungus to divert its nutrient flow to the undamaged tree (throwing in its lot with the tree most likely to survive). However, we're not sure if this would happen in a forest or other natural plant community, since in the lab, the fungus was totally dependent on the two trees for survival and there were no other participants in the network. So basically, it's kinda like those behavior studies on captive wolves?

#plants #trees #mycorrhizal network

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bonefall · 29 days

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I personally like Thunder's prosthetic. Explained it to my friend (who does use a mobility device, a cane and wheelchair, and listens to me rant and infodump about BB) and they agreed, it's important to know that not every person needs what someone wants to give them. It's another example of "bad ableist person does a thing that hurts a disabled person because they are bad and ableist".

Clear Sky got Jagged Peak killed and would have killed Sunlit Frost! He would absolutely force his disabled son to be "normal" and present it like a privilege. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, it's special, why don't you want to be helped?"

Thunder Storm should toss it in Clear Sky's face. (I would say toss it into the river but we do not pollute waterways in this house)

Thank you for telling me this, and tell your friend I'm thanking them too! If they have anything else to add please forward what they have to say

Since BB!DOTC tackles some of the heaviest topics in the entire series because its canon equivalent is so dark, I think very carefully about what I do here and how I show it. I take feedback on its sensitive aspects very seriously. If I'm understanding the criticism properly, it's that I should avoid stigmatizing prosthetics by making sure Thunder Storm's not the only one with it-- which he's not! And I'll add even more.

I don't want to avoid something only because it's uncomfortable if the topic is important, and my portrayal is respectful. Ableism IS uncomfortable! There are some situations where a prosthetic is not wanted! I think the rejection of this particular one is both a good opportunity to show a type of ableism and ALSO is very fitting for the characters.

In BB!Clear Sky's mind, the villain, he's fixing an old mistake. He can't admit that he got Jagged Peak killed or take REAL accountability for it (though he will, occasionally, apologize insincerely), but deep in his bones, he knows what he did was cruel. He'll never tell anyone this because he doesn't really cognate it himself, but Thunder Storm NEEDS to take his gift.

If Thunder doesn't take it, it blows a hole in his newest story. You see, throwing Jagged Peak out was All That Could Have Been Done back then. It was a Tragedy and he simply Made A Hard Choice. He regrets it very much, But You Have To Understand.

But now? Now? Well, behold. Look at what he's accomplished since the tragic death of his little brother. His cats are well-fed, cared for, and stable enough to make such incredible advancements. If only Jagged Peak had been able to hold on longer, if only he could be here now, I could fix him.

Just like I can (MAKE YOU JUST LIKE ME) fix you.

"Everything I've ever done is for Jagged Peak. For Fluttering Wing. For you." Thunder Sky is SPECIAL, but if he rejects any gift, tries to turn down the "privileges" offered to him, in an instant that becomes ungratefulness and arrogance. He both forces him to be special, and then leverages it against him if it's rejected. "Spoiled brat, doesn't appreciate what I've worked so hard to give him."

It all goes back to him and his own guilt. He can NEVER be wrong. He can't accept his family doesn't have to be "normal" or reflect his own ability. He won't see himself as a bully, let alone a murderer. It was never about his son's comfort or finding out what Thunder Storm wants or needs, it was about his own ego.

...All that said I'm still taking feedback if there's anything else I should keep in mind, or if anyone has a counter point, especially if you also have experience here.

(In the interest of having a link trail for posterity, here's the critique/call for feedback this is in response to)

#ALSO also I will take suggestions on other characters who should have prosthetics #Sunlit makes sense and it will make a really nice character moment later for him to have one built #There's also an amputee in RiverClan few people talk about called Stonestream #I can give him one and bump him up into a bigger character. In BB he is the sibling of Willowshine #BB!DOTC #better bones au #Also just as a side note... I love writing BB!Skystar. My ire for the character comes from his redemption arc so I feel like I get to--#--write the character I WANTED to see #Same with Bramble in other BB arcs #cw ableism #tw ableism #ableism #They're fascinating in that they always have to see themselves as the victim or the hero #They believe every lie they tell.#If you ever catch them in a contradiction they will still try to find some way to turn it on you and YOUR lack of understanding.#Interestingly both of them are ableist. Sky's is just more obvious because he's LOUDLY bigoted.#But BB!Bramble is *notably* less close to Jay for a very sad and very subtle reason.#Jay just doesn't serve his ego like the others do until much later in his life.#unfortunately most bigotry is like that.#the type you have a hard time calling out because it's a deniable bias. the constant gaslighting of being part of a marginalized group #Maybe I need to address the criticism by adding a character with a prosthetic to THIS arc even earlier #Problem is that like... Thunder's small merc group is already full of disabled characters and their THING is forming in response to ableism #OH maybe I'll put someone in the Forest Cat group which is lead by Slash?#I need to finish that last book and then gather up all the cats for sorting into allegiances

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thoughtsforsoob · 1 month

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Could you do something with TXT with a s/o that has emetophobia (fear of vomiting)? i struggle a lot with that phobia and it would mean a lot to see something like that :)

a/n: Hello!! thank you for requesting. I also have this fear and it’s the worst thing to have when you also have e/d. anywayssss please enjoy and I hope this can give you some comfort :)

yeonjun

he totally understands you and why you would be scared of this

he finds out about your fear when you get sick

you two had gone out to eat that night when when you came back home, you started to feel sick

you had eating something bad and were about to find out

you ran off to the bathroom and started to cry while throwing up

yeonjun heard your sniffles and insisted he go in with you

he frowns and almost cries watching how sad and scared you were

he wipes away your tears and helps you brush your teeth and clean up after, giving you the ultimate princess treatment

"im so sorry. i know it's scary. let's forget about it and focus on helping you recover."

soobin

you period cramps always made you nauseous so soobin finds out the first time you get your period while dating him.

you wake up with a stabbing paid in your stomach from the cramps.

you start waking soobin up when you feel the nausea coming on because you wrre feelign scared and didnt wanna go through it alone

he wakes up and you drag him with you to the bathroom

he immediately starts to understand why and comforts you.

a gentle hand on your back and one in your hair, ocassionaly moving the hand on your back to wipe stray tears from your cheeks

"oh baby, lets' fix these cramps so they dont make you sick again. poor baby."

beomgyu

He didn’t understand at first but it all hit him the first time he goes through this experience with you

You were both having a yummy dinner and having a few drinks

Once you both got home, you weren’t feeling really well

You’d eaten a little too much and you felt absolutely nauseous (idk about you guys but this happens when I eat out)

You explained to him that you feel nauseous but you’re scared

he does his best to go along with it and just comforts you, talking you through it.

“Bub, don’t be scared. You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

taehyun

so so caring

if he sees you feeling sick and looking like you’re gonna throw up, he’s by your side in an instant

he walks with you to the bathroom to throw up and he’s with you the whole way through

He knows you’re scared so he holds back your hair and rubs your back

he talks you through the whole thing and once you’re done, he gives you a smile

“I’m sorry my love. I know it’s scary but you’re okay. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up alright?”

huening kai

you had a little get together at your apartment with kai, his bandmates, and some of your own friends

you were drinking and after a while. you had goen over your own limit

you started to feel sick and immediately looked for kai

you rushed to the kitchen and gave him and scared look

he rushed to you and you explained, with a slurred voice, you felt sick but scared to throw up

he nodded and led you slowly to the bathroom to make sure he could keep and eye on you

"it's okay. let it out, bubba. no more drinks for you tonight or you'll make yourself sick again."

#txt imagines #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt reactions #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #huening kai x reader #taehyun x reader #yeonjun x reader

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glowingbadger · 10 months

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Hey remember all those things I said I had on my queue and was working on? Yeah this isn't one of those- it just, like, arrived in my brain fully formed and here it is. Far be it from me to turn away from something that breaks through my writer's block lmao. Askr's godly bull-cock got me feeling some kinda way these days I guess.

Once again this is one that I wrote almost entirely in one sitting, so I'm sure I'll spend my work shift tomorrow fixing type-os, weird phrasing and word repetition lmaooo

CW: Mating, "in heat," size kink, like, kind of unrealistic levels of size kink tbh his cock is fucking absurd and I don't care fight me

Askr (FEH) x Reader/Summoner (AFAB, no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

Askr, the God of Openness himself and namesake of the very land that the Order of Heroes calls home, is not at the bottom of the list of heroes you'd expect to run into during a clandestine midnight snack-run, but he's certainly nowhere near the top. Though, as you head from the pantry with pastry in hand, colliding with a hard wall of towering muscle does help to narrow down who you'd guess you had run into. Your face flushes just slightly as you glance up at him, still very much sharing personal space.

"Oh- Askr! Sorry, I-"

"There you are," he says, an odd note of relief in his voice. You frown a bit, confused, and instinctively move to step away. To your surprise, a strong arm wraps firmly around your waist, pulling you decisively back to him.

"Askr, what-"

His lips are on yours in an instant, the pastry in your hand tragically falling by your feet in the rush of shock, confusion, and hot, insistent arousal. A shaky moan escapes you as his tongue enters your mouth. Your hands are trembling, clenching tight around the front of his clothes, though you can hardly feel them; in fact, for some time, you can't seem to feel anything but body warmth and Askr's deep, impassioned kiss. His tongue toys with yours, firm, but never overly rough. He's a surprisingly adept kisser- it's your last coherent thought before the cavalcade of sensations washes your mind clear. At some point, he's pressed you to the closed pantry door, trapping you between it and his powerful frame. In the dizzying frenzy, it's as if you can feel his hands everywhere- fingers in your hair one moment, then his palms running the curve of your breasts, your hips, then grabbing firmly at your ass to keep you flush against him. At this, you realize that he's even lifted you a couple inches from the ground, and yet he supports you effortlessly. It's only when you notice him beginning to tug away your cloak- hastily thrown on over your sleeping clothes for this errand -that you manage to part from his lips with a ragged breath.

"What- what are you doing?!" you gasp out the words, though you can't bring yourself to even try to escape his embrace. If anything, Askr seems perplexed by your question, his brow furrowing and furry pointed ears twitching curiously as he replies,

"My Heat has begun, Summoner. I have need of a mate," your heart leaps at the words, and he nears your lips once more, warm hands sliding up your thighs and along your hips, "And I desire you far more than any other."

"Oh..." when he begins kissing you again, it's gentler- at least to start. You get the sense that he's gauging your reactions, eager to earn your little whimpers and sighs of encouragement. As you subconsciously allow yourself to melt back into him, it's not long before you feel his breath coming heavier, his hands gripping you tighter against him. It's maddening- his heat?? You'd heard that some of the other beast-folk in the castle experience similar fits of need, but you'd never considered that this land's God would be subject to the same. And to think that he wants you as his mate. Not to say that you had never considered sharing his bed, but this is all so sudden-

The thought finally occurs to you that you're pinned to the outer pantry door still, tongue tangled with a god in full view of anyone else in search of a late-night snack, and you break from him with a haggard, panting breath.

"Askr-" your hands are resting on his warm, firm chest, your body flush to his, "Not- not here."

At first, he looks about to protest. Then, he nods with an accommodating smile.

"Ahh, that's right, humans prefer a measure of discretion when mating, correct?"

"Uh, yeah, typically- woah-!"

Just as you've finally caught your breath, you're swept into Askr's arms, carried with ease down the hall towards your quarters.

The second you're beneath him on your bed, Askr begins undressing you, seemingly exerting enormous self-control to avoid damaging the seams. His own clothing comes off in bits and pieces between frantic kisses and caresses, the last of it even simply vanishing as though it had been merely manifested by his power alone. He hardly gives you time to consider the mechanics; the moment he has access to your bared upper body, his strong hands hold you close and his lips are at your breasts. His mouth is warm on your skin as he kisses you firmly, his teeth grazing just harsh enough to mark you more than once. Your fingers weave through his hair, as soft and thick as the fur of his ears, and you murmur his name,

"A... Askr, have you... been with a human before?"

"Several- it is a joy to bond more deeply with the mortals of the many realms," he says with a smile, his lips brushing your stiffening nipple as he speaks, "Though there has been none other that I was quite so fond of as I am of you."

This nonchalant response sends your heart thudding rapidly. Still, it is a comfort that he seems to understand that he must prepare you, and what's more, he seems to revel in the process. His tongue circles your nipple, and your head turns to the side with a pleasured sigh. He's practically nuzzling your breasts, his hips shifting subtly between your thighs as though he simply cannot help wanting to rut against you.

"Ohh..!" You feel the heat and pressure of his rigid cock pressing to your warmth, and the sensation sends a jolt up through your center. Askr may be in the throes of his Heat, but you're quickly finding yourself every bit as needy.

As his lips travel lower, sparking tender nerves down your torso as his hands adore your hips and thighs, you run your fingers through his hair and softly whimper his name. Then, his kiss sinks between your thighs, his fingers part your lower lips and his tongue immediately finds your clit. Now, his name is a desperate cry between breathless moans. With slow but firm strokes, he rubs and massages the little nub until it's stiff and aching for him, and your body arcs up from the bed. Without thinking, you grab hold of one of his horns and tug, hips rolling against him, grinding onto his tongue, and you feel him laugh through his nose.

"If I didn't know better, I would say you appear to be entering your own Heat."

His breath is hot against your skin, and the moment he's done speaking, his mouth is hard at work once more. Askr possesses none of the hesitation or timidity of some other men; he happily buries himself between the plush wetness of your folds, long passes of his tongue lavishing your most sensitive nerves with affection. From the flat of his tongue to the more pointed and focused feeling of the tip, he tastes you any way he can, spoils you with every kind of sensation, groans unabashedly against you when you tug at his horns. When your climax nears and your thighs begin to tremble around him, he grabs them in his hands and doubles down, kissing and sucking your quivering little clit until, with a gasping cry of his name, you feel it. The tingling heat of your orgasm rushes through you, tightening your nerves and then leaving you breathless and boneless as you slump back onto the bed. You're panting softly, your hand still fondly combing through his dark cobalt hair.

Despite the urgency of his needs, Askr allows you a few spare moments to rest. He occupies himself with kissing the softness of your inner thighs, caressing them in his large, strong hands, until it seems he simply can't delay any longer.

When he rises to kneel over you, your legs parted around him, you blink your eyes back into focus and get your first clear look at his frame. Every inch of his body is carved to perfection, his brown skin smooth across flawless muscle that flexes subtly with every movement. His tail whips impatiently behind him, though his eyes on you are warm and affectionate still. Then, your gaze lowers, and your eyes widen. His cock towers between your thighs, the shockingly thick shaft punctuated with veins leading up to a bulging head with a prominent crown that you can't help but imagine rubbing you inside. It's hard to determine whether his length or girth is more impressive, and his balls are large and heavy enough to match. You catch your breath, feeling the heat surge through your nerves.

"Oh, wow, you're uh... big..." your voice is barely audible, but he smirks at your words.

"I will start slow," he assures you, leaning down to kiss you once more as your bodies begin to move together. The moment the swollen head of his cock is nestled between your lower lips, just beginning to push into you, you gasp softly, then whimper his name as you feel each inch start to stretch you open around him. He's panting hard- you wonder if from the stimulation, or the effort to restrain himself. Likely both. His muscles are tight, his brow deeply furrowed as he drives deeper still, yet retains a slow and careful pace.

Your nails drag down his powerful arms, yet he hardly seems to notice, certainly doesn't flinch even for an instant. When your eyes catch his at last, they appear hazy and unfocused, and only become more distant as his hips begin to move.

"Oh--!!" You breathe out as his cock pistons into you, steady and firm, filling you deeper than anyone has ever reached before. You feel a jolt of pain in your belly, but also, the warm bliss of absolute satisfaction. Drooling with arousal, your cunt is wrapped tight around his length, filled utterly and completely with each sway of his hips. Just as you'd imagined, the ridge of his crown massages a thousand different tender spots with every thrust, like some sort of erotic toy- like Askr's body was made for this pleasure.

Before long, he's bucking into you faster, harder, and you're not sure he even realizes it. Without a word or a thought, he lifts your legs up onto his shoulders, never easing his pounding, punishing thrusts. His massive length is coated in your juices, allowing him to stuff you full again and again despite his overwhelming size. The only sounds he offers are occasional grunts and moans. His eyes are glazed over, lost in his drive toward relief, and it finally occurs to you how he must have strained to contain himself until now. Now, you're not even certain if he would hear you if you spoke his name, though you gasp it out into the quiet of the night all the same.

"Fuck..!"

Your head tilts back on the pillow at a sudden deep and decisive thrust. If you weren't bent into a mating-press, you even wonder if you'd be able to see the bulge of his immense member throbbing within you. A particularly fierce groan of pleasure draws your focus, however, and you feel Askr's pace stutter as he fucks desperately into you. You only have a moment to wonder if he's reaching his climax, before the potent twitching and swelling of his cock catapults you towards your own.

"Ah... Askr!!"

Your toes curl, your thighs shake, your eyes roll back. It's only when you feel a tell-tale heat dripping from your cunt and down your ass that you realize he'd cum as well, all without easing his pace for even a moment. Even the rush of his orgasm doesn't slow him in the slightest. Askr holds firm at your hips and slams into you just as vigorously, even as you feel the last throb of the aftermath of his release. The only concession he offers is to lower your legs from his shoulders, but the moment they're out of his way, he presses his larger body down onto you and his lips are at the crook of your throat.

"Mmmh, Summoner... my beloved mate..." his voice is low and lustful, the relentless sway of his hips still pounds him into you, "You feel perfect... I... I need more-"

His teeth press to your skin, quickly marking you, and it's all you can manage to run your shaky hand up his neck and into his hair. Briefly, you imagine yourself emerging from your room tomorrow morning, unsteady on your feet and covered in Askr's love-bites. If your mind had room for anything but sexual bliss, you might have felt bashful about the idea. Instead, your fingers curl, nails dragging along his scalp as his lips travel back to your breasts. Between panting breaths and bruising kisses, he groans out,

"You... take me so well, my Summoner," you feel yourself tighten around him at the word 'my,' squeezing around his rock-hard cock, "Your body... Nngh-" he throbs, grinding deep within you, "So good... I-I need... Mmmh-!"

In the throes of his mating frenzy, you're shocked he can still coordinate himself to manage it, but he slides a hand down your body to rub his thumb firm against your clit. You gasp aloud, throwing your head back and scraping your nails down his arms. Your legs tremble around his hips, still bucking and swaying against you, and in the intensity of this whirlwind of sensation, you're almost embarrassed by how quickly you cum. Slick covers his thick shaft once again, welcoming him into you still.

Gods above, are you going into a Heat of your own, just as he'd said? You can't imagine how else you've managed to take this- you're swept up into his pace, more than happy to give yourself over to his seemingly endless appetite.

"Fuh- Fill me, Askr," you moan out, barely able to meet his heated gaze, "Give it to me- muh-more! Ohh!"

His cock throbs from base to tip, stimulating your every aching nerve. The sound the utters could only be called a growl, and his grip at your hips is nearly painful.

"I- I can take it..!" you're breathless, but force the words out, "Cum for your mate, Askr!"

This time, when he cums, it shakes him from his pace. His hands slam down on the mattress on either side of you, and he sheaths every inch of that incredible bull-cock in your abused but soaking wet pussy. It hurts, yes- but gods, the pressure is mind-numbing, all-consuming bliss. As he unloads volley after volley of hot release into you, you feel your entire body tingling and your mind going white. And at last, he moans your name- not 'summoner,' not 'mate,' but your name.

The moment he's ridden out the wave of his second climax, Askr exhales heavily. Then, still fully inside of you, he wraps an arm around you and cradles you to his sturdy body, kissing you slowly and deeply. A pathetic little whimper escapes through your nose, and if you could feel any of your limbs, you'd have liked to hold him in turn. Instead, he gradually parts from your lips and eases you back down, then turns you onto your stomach.

"You should not make a habit of tempting me with such words," he says as he moves to mount you from behind, "If you indulge me, I will have no choice but to take you until sunrise and then some."

Strong hands grab roughly at your backside, spreading you open to receive him once more. The new angle awakens nerves that had begun to acclimate to your prior position. It's like he's stretching you all over again, fitting you around him in a new way that as you panting and whining beneath him, fingers clenching hard around the sheets. Askr draws close, the warmth of his body surrounding you as he fucks into you once more, your cum and his both slickening his manhood, making a mess of your inner thighs.

You lose track of time after this- how long does he take you, and how many times? There's no telling, it's all a blur of hands down your body, lips at your neck and shoulders, and his member rutting into you until he's spilled another sizeable load or two of his release into you- perhaps more, as he's proven fully capable of fucking you through his orgasm. By the time you gather yourself to speak, you're a wreck of flushed and bitten skin, disheveled hair and trembling limbs.

"Nh... Askr, you... feel so good, I-I'm not sure... how much more I can take..."

Askr gives a short and gentle laugh, holding you against him for a moment to kiss the shell of your ear.

"Rest, then- and we will continue when you are ready."

He eases his cock from you, which you note is barely any softer after all of this time. Thick and veined, its contours rub pleasurably against you even as he pulls out, and when you speak, your voice is breathy and weak,

"Are- are you sure you don't, uh, need more?"

You rally your muscles just enough to turn and look up at him, and he smiles that sweet, charming smile that you know so well.

"You are far too generous, Summoner- to all of us, I fear," he rises from the bed and takes his lower garment in hand, tying it around his waist as he gazes fondly down at you, "I will not claim to be fully sated- but I would much rather savor you than simply exhaust you," With a good-natured chuckle, he brushes a lock of your hair back into place, "I will have my fill of your pleasure- but there is no need to rush. My needs have been curbed for long enough to allow you that much, at the very least."

You smile back up at him, heart leaping at the handsome sight of him still mostly exposed and smiling with such open warmth.

"Now then," he says, turning towards the door, "You will need water, I imagine- and something to eat. Wait here, I won't be long."

Before you can say a word, he's out the door, and the thought immediately strikes you- he's simply strolling around the castle like that, with a mere sheet of fabric that doesn't even wrap all the way around his hips for cover. How many heroes might be wandering about the grounds, even at this hour? You envision Gaius on his way to raid the pantry. Linhardt or Lute on their way back from a late-night study session. Volke or Hubert doing... whatever it is that those sneaky sorts get up to at night. What are the odds that this night could stay strictly between you and Askr? Not high, with him waltzing about nearly nude, very obviously leaving and entering your bedroom. Aside from which, from the sounds of it, you have several more intensive rounds of 'mating' to come. Your face warms and your lower body aches at the thought.

"Gods..." you mutter up at the ceiling, though you can't help a weary, blissfully happy smile.

#fire emblem #fire emblem smut #feh #fire emblem heroes #askr #askr fire emblem #askr x reader #fire emblem x reader #smut fic #in heat #x reader #not sfw

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starry-blue-echoes · 1 year

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Star Swap, thinking about how long it'd take before people found out.

Jotaro in Josuke's place is definitely the fastest to be found out. He does not know how to do the hair. He doesn't even know TO do the hair. Tomoko's clued into something being wrong FUCKING IMMEDIATELY and, especially given how Jotaro's going to respond to her, she's not going to let it rest till she figures it out. And then older Jotaro arrives and uhhhh yeah he's going to recognize the familiar Angst

Josuke in Jotaro's place, honestly unsure. Holly's observant, and would notice right away, but I don't know how much she'd push it, if at all, and then she gets sick, and Joseph, while super observant, hasn't seen Jotaro in a while to be able to have a baseline. I think Josuke would want to tell people, but there's so much going on that nobody can really focus on figuring it out or deciding who/how to tell.

Nobody knew Giorno well enough to tell prior to part 5. It's all down to if Joseph chooses to tell anyone. And honestly... He might. Trish especially, he might as a way of sharing his own experiences to let her know she's not alone in feeling lost and homesick and in over her head.

Giorno's going to try and hide it. Erina and Speedwagon will notice something's up, but not push enough to figure it out. And Giorno's a good actor. Maybe he'll tell Suzie or Caesar some of it eventually, but... It'd be hard for him.

Jolyne, uh. Dio figures out That's Not Jonathan immediately but it's shortly before he used the mask so he's not seen any supernatural shit yet and is supremely confused. He wouldn't know how it happened or how to respond at ALL. And George might take it as a rebellious phase or some shit, given that he's distracted by being poisoned. I could see her telling Erina once she shows up though.

Jonathan has a month at best before he's forced to tell someone. He does not know how to deal with periods in Jolyne's body. He was raised by a single father in the late 1800s. He's going to have to ask Hermes or someone for help, and probably explain why he doesn't know, and thus where/when he's from, in the process. And honestly he probably wanted to tell someone early on, but was taking a minute to settle in and try not to upset his presumed descendant's life and then he got framed and the chaos and he didn't know who to trust at first- he's glad to tell someone.

YESSSSSSSSS

Out of all the Jojo’s, Jotaro is the most fucked about keeping this secret. The morning he wakes up it doesn’t matter what he does, Tomoko is going to be on him in an instant and he has no chance whatsoever at keeping the body swap a secret. Honestly Tomoko might connect the pieces pretty quick and could even confront him in a “who are you and what have you done with my son” way within a day or two of “Josuke” acting off. On the plus side Josuke doesn’t seem to have had….. really any friends prior to Diamond so that’ll make things a bit easier at least.

Thing are DEFINITELY going to be awkward between Tomoko and Jotaro tho. He’ll explain the situation as best he can, but there isn’t much he can offer beyond theories and giving a more in depth explanation of his admittedly limited knowledge about Stands. Both are struggling to figure out What The Fuck Do We Do, but they’d probably end up working together. Admittedly things are still tense, and it only gets worse when 4taro shows up, doubly so when he learns this kid is apparently his grandfather’s bastard son.

(also I can definitely see Jotaro calling Holly at some point. He doesn’t say anything, but just hearing her voice on the other end of the receiver, hearing proof that she was still alive…… it took a weight off his shoulders)

And your thoughts are basically the same as mine when it comes to Josuke. Holly would definitely realize something was wrong, but she wouldn’t have time to tell anybody because of the Stand Sickness. There would also be an added layer to Josuke’s panic because He Can’t Fix This, and seeing her illness from a Stand would ironically remind him of his own sickness when he was a boy. At least the Crusaders have a healer now?

Joseph…… that’s a tricky one. Nobody knows him so they’d have no reason to even suspect anything. Telling Trish would be an interesting idea, but there is also the chance that he just. Never does. Parts of his story yes, mentioning the Pillarmen and his experiences possibly, implying time travel MAYBE, but he might not mention the “I might be possessing a 15 year old’s body”

For Giorno, while he’d definitely be able to get away with it on Air Supplena, Speedwagon and Erina are going to notice immediately. They might be hesitant to push in the beginning because Joseph growing that withdrawn could be seen as something having happened emotionally, but I think eventually they’d put together the pieces that this isn’t their grandson

Jolyne in Jonathan’s body……. That’s going to be pure fucking gold. She does not take ANY of Dio’s shit. Also, I really like the idea of her telling Erina. After all…… she isn’t the man Erina loves, she’s merely inhabiting his body. It would feel wrong to take advantage of her in such a way, especially because of how genuine those feelings seem to be. And Dio figuring it out himself is just 🤌

And Jonathan. Poor, poor Jonathan. Out of everyone he’s going to have easily the hardest time adjusting. And what if the thing with Hermes is just his absolute breaking point. He’s tired and confused and now he’s bleeding and everything hurts and he just wants to go home, so when Hermes asks hims what’s wrong everything just comes crashing down

And Hermes….. was not at all expecting this. Sure ‘Jolyne’ was a little weird, but she’d just chalked that up to that just being how she was, that that was just her personality. But this? Forceful time travel into a body that didn’t belong to them??? Yeah that wasn’t ANYWHERE on the list

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after-witch · 2 years

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Energy Loss [Yandere Vash the Stampede x Reader]

Title: Energy Loss [Yandere Vash the Stampede x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re traveling with Vash the Stampede, but a life on the run--a life in hiding--starts to wear too thin on you.

Word count: 4543

notes: yandere, obsessive and possessive behavior, drugging, dubcon NSFW implications (non-graphic); mentions of sexual harassment

It's not the nicest hotel in the city--not by a long shot. But when you're traveling with Vash (that is, Vash the Stampede--to say nothing of his more colorful nicknames) it's not always easy to come by money. Especially without a proper job.

Which is exactly why you've scrubbed yourself up this morning and dressed in what amounts to your best clothing: to apply for a job. At least a temporary one, while you and Vash decide whether or not to stay in this town or head our further West. You’ve yet to tell Vash that you would like to stay, would like to make a home here--but that can wait until after you’ve secured a job in the area.

As you're fixing your hair, Vash pops his head into the bathroom, toothbrush from dangling from his lips. "What're you so dressed up for?" He asks, smiling, words a bit garbled from the stick in his mouth.

You adjust the collar of your shirt and turn your head this-way-and-that, giving yourself a last lookover. Your carefully cleaned and filed fingernail taps on the counter, before you pick up the newspaper and toss it at him. He catches it easily and his eyes are drawn to the area that you circled the other day.

"Help wanted: library; part time, cash up front." His words trail off, but you're too busy focusing on last minute adjustments to your outfit to pay much attention.

"I heard that they got a huge shipment of books in from one of the Earth ships that's been bringing supplies. Lots of how-to manuals for technology, stuff like that. Plus novels." You give yourself a thin smile of approval before turning around, breezing past Vash and giving a twirl in the wider bedroom to show off your outfit.

"I've always liked books, so why not? Plus I can bring us in some real money so we don't get kicked out of the hotel... again," you add, the tiniest bit of bitterness seeping into your good-humored jab.

Vash's smile is instant and apologetic. "It was just the one time! I swear, I thought we had more left." He sets the paper down and takes you into his arms, an easy gesture, now that you're passed the stage of pretending that you two are simply friends. "Your intervene is today? What time? Where's the library at?"

You return his smile with some nervous laughter. "Geez, what's with the third degree? Are you writing a report on me? Maybe my mugshot will be up there next to yours soon." But you tell him, because why wouldn't you? And after nibbling on breakfast you wave and head out the door--with effort, as Vash insists he comes with you at first, refusing to take no for an answer until you have to get serious and snippy--and try to mentally prepare yourself for the interview.

Sure, you don't have any experience working in a library. But running your family's bakery after their deaths was no easy feat, especially considering you weren't exactly in the best head space afterwards. Witnessing murders during a robbery-gone-wrong will do that to you... but with help, with Vash's help mostly, you've picked up the pieces of your life and started fresh.

But even starting fresh has its limits, and you won't deny that getting this job isn't just about staying in the hotel--it's about staying in this town, perhaps for good. Roots might do you good--might do you both good.

The hot air whipping past your hair does little to calm your frayed, overstimulated nerves.

You didn’t even get to finish the interview. In the middle of it, while you were being asked how well you could understand classification systems, screams resonated throughout the building--screams and gunshots and noises that you were all too familiar with; every hair on your body stood on end as you and the woman doing the interview ducked under the desk.

The door burst open and someone with a gun stood in the doorway, sweaty and grisly and bulky, with flicks of blood across his face. He took one look at you and grinned, and you knew it, this was it and--with a bang, the man screamed and crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg. In moments Vash was there, tackling him, winding a rope around his bleeding legs and arms; a hogtie, rendering the man helpless. And rendering you safe.

The car bounces into a hole in the dusty road and the jolt takes you out of your memories.

Of course, you two had to run. Someone had recognized Vash from a wanted poster, followed you to the library, and planned on using you as bait to get to him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you pray it’s the last.

Another long drive. Another search for a place that you two can live without being recognized. It’s hard, with Earth technology seeping into the planet’s social structure more and more; and boy, is it easier for people to recognize Vash from videos than from the crude Wanted Posters from before.

But the knowledge that it’s not Vash’s fault people recognize him doesn’t make it easier to give up another life you’d started to create.

“Vash?” You ask. He’s driving, staring ahead, face calm and lost in thought.

“Hm?”

“I… wish we didn’t have to go from town to town as much, you know?”

He glances at you, face suddenly sparked with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I liked that town,” you continue. “I thought maybe if I got that job… we could get an apartment or something, instead of the hotel. Start a life. Plant down roots.” You grin softly, bittersweet. “No pun intended.”

But Vash doesn’t return your grin. Instead his look hardens into something more thoughtful, something he rarely lets you see willingly.

“You okay?” You ask. “I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s not you,” he says, gently, correcting your notion. “It’s… I’m thinking about other people. Not most people,” he says, no doubt thinking of the many people he’s made connections with over his many years. “But the ones who want to hurt me. Who want to hurt you.” He take one hand off the wheel, running it through his blackened hair. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

Traveling with Vash the Stampede is not easy. You can still remember the first day you met him, exhausted and injured and collapsed in the first floor of your family’s bakery. You tended to his wounds--nursing, that used to be your job, before you had to keep the family business running--and before you realized it, you had built a friendship with the infamous Vash the Stampede.

He’d told you things, too, things you doubted most people knew. About a woman named Rem. About his brother. About his brother’s death and last sacrifice. But it was with that knowledge of who he was and what he’d done and what he was running from that you made the decision to travel with him. You knew what you were getting into, and it was no ordinary life.

Which is why, for now, you give him a soft smile and nod instead of complaining about your latest dash from civilization.

This place never had a Plant, and still doesn’t. But that was no longer a guarantee of poverty and hardship, thanks to the Earth teams working to improve the planet for human habitation, at least until the humans on Earth decide what to do with humans on Gunsmoke. The Earth teams had dug a well to previously unknown water sources underground and set up a plumbing system throughout the small settlement. Nothing fancy, but enough to keep people alive.

Which is all you and Vash can hope for when you rent a dingy room in the sole building in town that has them available. No widespread electricity here yet, but you’re given candles which give the room a soft glow as you the pair of you change into your night clothes.

Vash always undresses in the bathroom, no exceptions. You don’t know why. You’ve seen his body before, seen the scars and wounds and modifications that kept him from bleeding out every time he got shot and cut and injured saving others. But something about the act of undressing made him exceedingly shy, and he refused to let you see him taking his clothes off. Even when he knows that as soon as he’s dressed again, he’s crawling into the bed with you.

“Vash?” You ask, wanting to return to your conversation from earlier.

“Hm?” He calls out from the bathroom, and you can hear him thumping, hopping on one foot as he takes off his trousers.

“How long are we going to do this?”

In a few moments, he reenters the bedroom, night shirt on. “Do what?”

You gaze out the window into the darkness. All you can see is the reflection of the candle set on the dresser next to the bed.

“Running. Going from place to place. I’m--” you struggle to find words, your carefully practiced speech in your head fizzling away as soon as you voiced your thoughts. “I’m tired of being on the run all the time. I know--” You stare down at your legs, gripping the material of your pajama pants as memories flood to the surface. “I know I wanted to leave Greenacre after my family was killed. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I want to be running forever. I need… roots, you know?”

When you get the courage to look up, Vash’s face looks almost stricken in the candle light. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and there’s an ache in your chest when you worry that you’ve hurt his feelings somehow. Then, he pulls back the covers on his side of the bed and gets in. The warmth is familiar and comforting.

“I know,” he says finally. “Don’t worry. I’ll… find us a great place that we can call home.”

You don’t know how he does it, but after digging through endless maps to find a new destination, he finds the perfect place. And the perfect apartment. It’s nothing fancy, but you immediately take a liking to it. It’s a big city, big enough that you’re both lost within it; no nosy small town neighbors who take a great interest into every new person that steps a foot within the town limits. It helps that you convinced Vash to grow out his hair again. And even with the meager salary you’re earning at a 24-hour hole in the wall diner, you’ve managed to collect an array of hats that make him just another face in the city grind.

No one cares who he is, and you think that you can finally call this place home. And if Vash is a little clingy every time you come home from a shift, if he starts getting antsy anytime he sees you talking to someone in the halls, you can’t really blame him. He doesn’t go out as much as you do--can’t risk getting recognized, with your roots on the line--and it’s bound to make anyone stir-crazy.

Which is what first comes to your mind on this night before your first-ever midnight shift. He’s just a little stir-crazy.

“I’m serious, (Y/N). Don’t go.”

You button up your work shirt and resist the urge to roll your eyes. He’s sitting on the edge of your shared bed, hands clasped together, looking pitiful.

“Please. I’ll get a job so you don’t have to take these shifts. Anything you want. Just don’t go there tonight. It’s not safe. Stay with me.”

You turn to face him and try to look amused rather than annoyed, but the increasing patronization on Vash’s end lately has started to get to you, like needle pricks that get sharper and sharper. You’re an adult. You know how to take care of yourself. Why can’t he see that?

“We need the extra money. Besides,” you grin, poking Vash in the rib--playful, jovial, hoping to get a smile out of him. It doesn’t work. “All the best characters come out at night.”

He buries his face in his hands and all you can do is give him a stiff hug and promise you’ll be careful. When you glance back as you shut the door, he hasn’t moved, and you make a mental note to make sure that he starts getting out of the house more. New friends would do him good.

Your shift is uneventful. Drunks. Late shift workers. Someone with a baby that wouldn’t sleep. It’s over before you know it, and you walk home in the early morning hours, passing by people just getting up for their own jobs. The apartment building is starting to bustle with the sounds of early morning routines, and it’s oddly comforting after spending your night working in the quiet din of the diner.

The apartment is silent as you slide your keys into the lock; but before you can push it open, it’s yanked open with a ferocity by the darkened figure standing behind it. Your hand goes instinctively to your waist, to the little pistol you keep there, when the voice calls out:

“You’re home! Quick, get inside!”

It’s Vash--of course it is, who else would it be?--and you’re left practically squeaking in confusion as he pulls you by your arm inside the apartment. The door is shut and locked in record time, and as soon as he turns around you can tell that he hasn’t slept all night. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his gestures are shaky and anxious as he runs his hands down your arms.

“Are you okay? Did you miss me? Did anyone bother you at the diner? Did you talk to anyone? Wait--did you check if someone followed you home?”

The barrage of questions leaves you reeling.

“What? No, I--everything’s fine. Wait, why would someone be following me home?” Worry seeps through your tone but Vash’s response does nothing to soothe it.

He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends as he begins to pace, speaking so rapidly that you have to force yourself to focus intently in order to hear every word.

“It’s my fault--it’s all my fault. I think someone might have recognized me. Maybe they’ll target you again. They probably know you work at the diner. I--I’m sorry, we should pack our things and get out of here as soon as we can.”

The keys in your hand drop to the floor in a twisted, jingling heap.

You can’t. You just can’t do this again.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your body sways a bit before you stumble to the bed, sitting down on the plush mattress with a heavy sigh. It’s too much. Too much running. Too much change. Too much Vash, clinging to you in every way possible.

He’s at your side in an instant, his arm around your shoulder, pressing, trying to comfort you. But his familiar warmth and the feeling of his hand rubbing down your back does nothing to ease your feelings.

“Vash, I think--” You can’t bear to look at him when you say it. You can hardly bring yourself to voice the words. “I think we should… live separately for a while.” You close your eyes and push out the rest, afraid of seeing what your words might do to him. “I like it here. I really like it here. I don’t want to leave. So if we get separate apartments, just for a while, we can throw off--whoever this is. We can throw off their scent long enough to save up for another place in the city.”

You expect him to look anxious when you open your eyes, but instead his face seems… soft. Resigned. Calm. A far cry from the anxious energy he was exuding only moments before. It’s both relieving and a little frightening, a mood shift that’s leaving your tired mind reeling.

“I know,” he whispers, voice tinged with remorse, and it’s like you can feel the weight of more than one-hundred years in his tone. Heavy and old. “I’ll… start looking for a new place tomorrow, after your shift. Okay?”

You nod, relieved that he didn’t try to dissuade you but more relieved that he didn’t appear upset at your suggestion, and cuddle into his arms. You try to push down the sense of unease that came with his shift in moods. You’re too tired to deal with it now, anyway.

“You’re safe here, you know that?” You don’t respond to his words, only mumble sleepily as he continues to rub your back, your arms, clinging to you as if to comfort himself. Your eyes slide shut and you accept the fact that you’ll probably just fall asleep while he holds you.

“You’re always safe in my arms.”

You’re so tired that you pay no attention to the feel of Vash reaching over to open the drawer of the bedside cabinet and plucking something out. A book, maybe, or a snack. You barely feel the prick of the needle slide into your skin; the sudden sensation of stinging in your veins makes your eyes jolt awake, but they’re no match for the sedative and they slide closed again just as quickly.

The last thing you hear is Vash’s voice in your ear, muffled by his lips pressed against your hair, whispering over and over: “I’m sorry, I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

You’re asleep in no time.

When you wake up, your immediate thought is: Fuck. A hangover.

And then you remember Vash and the needle and the pain, and your body heaves itself out of bed with a fearful hurry. But even with your vision still blurring, with your body feeling weak and a headache screaming inside your skull, you know this: you’re not at the apartment.

Where are you?

You press your hands against your eyes and wait until the world stops spinning. Your vision returns and you look around to take stock of the situation.

You’re in a bedroom. Vash was holding you after you suggested that you split up for a bit. Then he… put something in you. Drugs? Something to make you sleep long enough to bring you here, wherever here happens to be.

As if on cue, Vash enters the bedroom with a breakfast tray in his hands. A cup of steaming coffee and a plate with bread and some sort of fruit sits on top.

You can’t run around him, so instead you bring your knees up to your chest and back yourself against the headboard as much as possible. Your mind feels blank and full all at the same time, emotions and adrenaline rushing through you so strongly that it’s hard to focus.

“Hey, hey,” Vash says, almost cooing. He sets the tray down on the end of the bed and holds up his hands. You’re reminded of the way your father used to try to calm down Tomas that had become too wild. “Calm down.”

You’re smart. You know that if you scream, if you lose your head, you won’t be getting out of this. So you relax your tense muscles and bring your hands to your lap rather than clasped across your knees.

“Vash--” Your throat is dry and your voice is croaky. He immediately jumps up and grabs a glass of water he’d set on the nightstand earlier. You take it with fingers that feel numb from fear and gulp it down, easing the ache in your throat.

“Vash…” you continue. “What’s going on? Where are we?” Why--why did you bring me here?” You try to keep your voice steady. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. It has to be, doesn’t it? This is Vash, after all. Vash, who let you nurse him back to health; who told you all his secrets; who took you on an adventure of a lifetime.

He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Would he?

He scoots closer on the bed, and you fight your body’s instinct to flinch away. You try to read the expression in his eyes and all you can come up with is that he feels nervous. But it’s a different sort of nervousness than you’ve seen before; as if he has to do something he doesn’t want to do, and simply wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“(Y/N), I need you to know something.” He looks at you for a response and you nod, showing him that you’re listening. “I would never hurt you. I--” he looks down and fiddles with the end of the breakfast plate. “I had a feeling that you were going to try to leave me, so… I got something from a friend. In case I needed to take you somewhere safe.”

He looks up and sees the sense of betrayal and hurt in your eyes and immediately grabs your hands. Only it’s hard to feel comforted by his firm grip when you realize that he just admitted to drugging you and taking you to some unknown destination.

You try to pull away but his grip is too firm. He’s not hurting you, but he’s not letting you go, either.

“I don’t understand, Vash. Why are you doing this? Let’s, let’s just go back to the city, okay? We can still live together.” You don’t know if you could, anymore, not after this. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He smiles and it’s such a sad smile that you can’t help the ache that forms in your chest. When he shakes his head, you realize that he won’t be listening to reason anytime soon.

“We are living together. Here. Where I can keep an eye on you. Where you won’t have to worry about a job or money or anything like that. No one can hurt you here. No one’s going to recognize me and try to hurt you ever again.”

Your hands are released and you set them back in your lap. It takes everything you have not to raise your voice as you look him in the eyes, mentally begging him to listen to what you’re saying.

“Vash. Listen to me.” He nods, and he pats your hand, and he’s listening--sure. “This isn’t right. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the city and our apartment. I don’t even know where we are right now.” With the last words, your voice starts to tremble, and your mind fights not to break down.

Vash’s arms are around you immediately, and your body flinches with anxiety as you remember the last time he held you like this. But there’s no needle prick, only his arms around you, squeezing; only his voice, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “We’re somewhere safe. The safest place in the world, really, because no one else is here! An abandoned town that’s so far out, no one will ever bother with it again. I fixed it up for us…” His tone drops a bit and your stomach falls with it. “Had to use some energy, but it’s okay. I just used enough to make sure we’ll have food and water for as long as we need it.”

The realization that he’d used some of his precious energy--and who knows how much of it he had left?--makes your breath hitch.

“Vash.” You draw back, and he lets you, taking in your concerned expression. “You’re not--you shouldn’t do that. You could…” You don’t say the final words, but the image he painted of his brother, the story of how Knives used the last of his energy to create an apple tree, shoots through both of you.

At your concern, Vash’s thumbs stroke your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do it again. Just this once, for you. I’d do anything for you, (Y/N). I mean it.”

His strokes continue downward, onto your neck, onto your shoulder blades; and you’re suddenly keenly aware of the fact that Vash had changed you into your night clothes at some point during your forced sleep.

“Vash--” you start, but your words are broken when he kisses you on the lips. It’s not deep, but soft, gentle, and he pulls back so quickly that your lips barely feel the ghost of his touch. You don’t know what to say, or how to say anything. It’s all so confusing.

He… kidnapped you, didn’t he? Isn’t that was this is? But he’s your friend, and maybe there was a kernel of truth to it all. Maybe people did recognize him again--who wouldn’t, with his face and name and deeds plastered on every wall--and he was just trying to keep you from getting hurt. But couldn’t he talk to you instead of forcing this on you? Couldn’t he just ask you about it? A keening sense of betrayal rings in your head, interrupted only when he speaks again.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he pleads. And you can’t help but feel a familiar tugging at your heart. He’s been through so much. You’ve been through so much, alone and together.

That’s why you don’t move when his hands reach for the straps of your nightgown. That’s why you don’t move when he leans in against your neck and inhales. The gestures are familiar yet foreign, recognizable acts from someone whose recent actions have left you ripped open.

He presses a kiss into your neck, lips warm against your pulse. “Think of the good things. No more sleazy jerks at the diner…” Another kiss. “No more people stopping you in the halls, asking for favors, like you’re their personal nurse.” Another. “Just you and me, always. Always.”

Your body responds as it always has to his touch, to his voice and to his closeness. Your mind is so confused and foggy, you don’t know if you should fight, if you want to fight him. You’ve been with him before, an intimacy long established. But this was different. This was not Vash and you giggling underneath the sheets, romping before you took a shower and headed to work. This was not Vash cuddling with you afterwards and making jokes.

This was Vash with his hands on you, possessive and all-knowing. This was Vash with a sharper look in his eyes, one that was focused and filled with such strong attraction that it made your stomach flip.

When you don’t struggle against him, when you don’t push him away, he slides the straps of your nightclothes down. His next words make goosebumps run up your arms.

“I’ll make every inch of your body know that you belong to me, and me only.”

His lips press against your collarbone, and you finally let the tension go out of your back, resting against the soft pillow behind your head.

You don’t know why you’re not fighting. Why you’re not screaming at him. Why you’re leaning back and letting out a pleased sigh when his kisses trail further down.

You just know that you’re here with Vash and you don’t know what the future holds anymore.

#yandere trigun #yandere vash the stampede #yandere vash #vash x reader #afterwitch writes #yandere

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songbird-is-crying · 9 months

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Good Omens 2 may have wrecked my heart and soul and I may not recover until season 3 is released but believe me when I tell you it DELIVERED. I am a sucker for a good confrontation in a love story, and but I (personally) so rarely find them. It is a miscommunication trope, but it’s just a lack of understanding and innate differences in character that are keeping them apart!! rather than someone overhearing something and getting the wrong idea (looking at you, Shrek and the Fiona Sunflower scene). But when it is derived from programmed ideals and nurtured habits and beliefs it is so interesting when they conflict, i mean…

Do y’all understand how narratively SATISFYING it will be when aziraphale and crowley come together in the end and learn how to be with each other?? Just be?? The catharsis we will all experience because these two motherfuckers will have gone through the abyss or the bottomless pit or whatever the rock bottom stage is called in the hero’s journey only to come out of it?? And still choose to love each other?? Do you know how strong their love has got to be to pull that off??

Because this show is all about how love wins. LOVE WINS!! Not in some low effort, poor design quality slogan to grab your attention as well as your wallet in a target pride merch section, but in a real sense that love conquers all. Ok, that is still cheesy, but it really does!! The lengths that people go for each other because they love, it can’t be beat!! Like, the fact that Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s Miracle Magic Time is strongest when they work together because they are in LOOVVEEE. Good Omens is not about choosing a side and fighting to the death for loyalty’s sake, it’s about loving someone to the extreme that you will go to any lengths for them, fight to protect them, care for them, want to make the world better for them!! That is a force that cannot be beaten because love refuses to bow to anything!!Because love is bloodthirsty and raw and domestic and charming, and the breakup basically guarantees that we WILL see this force in action because we already KNOW their love is strong and deep enough to withstand this…

GIRL…

When these two come together in the end, I will fall to my knees in worship and make a god out of Neil Gaiman Himself because they will have earned it, because they will have come to a better understanding of themselves and be prepared to love without hesitation and without barriers. And it will be so beautiful.

Can you honestly sacrifice this future just for the instant gratification of them getting together at the end of season 2?? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you prefer them living in unresolved, nonverbal ignorance because you’re too afraid of making them face their fears of being alone and being without purpose first??

Season 1 made me realize my personal philosophy on the nature of humanity and choice and sides, but now I really see that it’s about choosing to be on the side of what you love, and how that loyalty is the only true thing and the universe.

(But before you think “well, Crowley was ready to give up everything and love Aziraphale, but Aziraphale chose not to be on his side and love him” you forget that Aziraphale wants to fix the system to be fair to people like Crowley because he loves him and believes him to be the most “good” out of anyone he’s met, even himself! He loves him so much he wants to fix the world for him, and he did what he thought was right by not wavering and committing to his mission, even if that meant losing him!!)

God, I love this show so much. The book, the radio, my precious vinyl records of the soundtrack (love you David Arnold, muah), and even the graphic novel I will never see for at least a year, it’s just all so incredibly important to me. Good Omens has helped me realize what I truly believe in and has really influenced my outlook on life. And wow that is cheesy, but it’s ok that this show makes me insane, how it makes me ramble on tumblr at midnight because of the appreciation it has given me for the world around me, because I feel so much love doing so.

I wish I could express everything this show has made me feel. But my feelings are simply ineffable.

I LOVE LOVE!! I LOVE LIFE!! I LOVE EVERYTHING!! THE WORLD IS GOOD AND KIND BECAUSE WE HAVE PEOPLE AND THINGS AND PASSIONS TO CARE ABOUT!!!

#I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS SHOW #SO NORMAL #NORMALIZE HYPERFIXATING ON TWO OLD OCCULT BEINGS WHO LOVE BUT ARE ALSO DUMB #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #i am an aziraphale apologist #shout out to the three people who will read this in full #know that i love you #and you are valid #and no matter what happens you mean so much to me #neil gaiman #he’s here too

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wetcatspellcaster · 2 months

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Honest Lie - 6, 22, 25

6. What do you need to write? Is there anything special you need to do/have to help your creative flow?

Honestly, this is an interesting question for this fic specifically, bc my writing usually comes from a place of... pure fucking spite lmao. If there's something I don't like enough, I want to fix it (in Bleeding Heart, it was all the early access bullying lol). An Honest Lie is weird because I actually really like the Astarion canon storyline - though I can't speak for patches. So in this case, what I need to write, is a few weeks of getting depressed from my angsty as fuck AU, and then I come here to be cosy and promise my OC the world :')

22. Does personal experience ever inspire your fics? What about this particular fic?

Crying. killshot.

The fun thing about me, is that I don't consider any of my OCs self-inserts or related to me at all(this is no judgement to self-insert OCs, I simply do not consider myself hot enough to hold a candle to the imaginary women in my brain and thus, I admire anyone with the confidence).

...And then I go into therapy, and my therapist asks me about my writing, and then they give me a long hard look and I say "oh, no, I get that look, but it's not me, you see. because this girl is hot :) and pink :)". And then my therapist looks at me some more.

which is a bit of an overshare, but basically it turns out that every fic I write can be archaeologically surveyed about a year after I write it for the personal experience it actually entails (yes, I'm extremely worried about Pieces).

luckily, Rosalie is 2yrs old, so I have done that work already! and oh boy, does that make writing An Honest Lie fucking weird at times!

I've been pretty open that Rose was my pandemic OC. I didn't write her based on my own pandemic experiences - it was actually that two of my friends at the time were agoraphobic, I was anxious, and I liked the idea of a magical cure for both of those things, in the form of the tadpole. But since I wrote the first fic with her, I have realised a lot about myself: I have recovered from an acute self-hating depression, and I have received an autism diagnosis, all of which seem relevant to the Masker Extraordinaire.

If I was to pinpoint the exact piece of personal experience here, I think it's the irrational fear that all recovery can be undone in an instant. That is the worry that motivates a lot of Rosalie's character. Like Rose, I really fear the moment where my progress is exposed as a lie, or the risk that one thing will tip me back into my worst moment without me having any control over it. I don't think it will happen, but I do feel like that possibility haunts my choices and my everyday life!

25. Is there anything you would change about this fic? Why/Why not?

Weirdly... I'm not sure if I'd write it? which is a depressing way to answer this question. I like it as a project, but it's a little different than my approach to other fics - it feels messier as a story. I mostly started it bc people asked for a continuation of my first fic, and I have a lot of love for A Bleeding Heart... neither of these are good motivations for a whole new fic lmaooooo. But now that I'm here, I wouldn't change anything. I've accepted it's going to be a messier, more self-indulgent project, and that while it doesn't come from my usual urge to fix things in a story, which means I have less prompts going forward, instead I just have to fully enjoy the bits I love.

behind the scenes fic asks!

#asks #mutuals #ask games #behind the scenes #wip: an honest lie

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club-touge · 10 months

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Story time: This particular car has come full circle..1988 NA FC RX7 with an unknown history & a spirit that won’t be snuffed out. I met my buddy on our first touge drive with his other friend, both randoms I met at a gas station the night before. First corner on the local run and the man in back understeers straight off into a tree killing the 91′ miata.. Due to life circumstances he had to sell the car which was in bad shape and, he sold it to his friend (other driver). Me and the friend became close, I helped him rebuild the wrecked miata into a drift missile. New gas tank, subframes, welded diff, suspension, a arms ect. Due to my life circumstances then, I had to move and never got to see the car drive. We stayed friends, and I got to see videos of it driving and drifting. An awesome feeling to see the car I helped put together getting use and enjoyment! Time goes by and the friend ends up trading that missile miata for this 1988 RX7. 187,000 chassis miles. Original NA car, with a turbo ii drivetrain swap running on one rotor, and paint/interior trashed. Car was an wreck..A great financial choice for a college student. So naturally he goes full budget or f-ck it build. Rebuilds the motor, “wires” it together, and has a turbo 13b car. Car is broken and rebuilt throughout the learning process of driving. Car goes to North Carolina, does drift events, touge, street duty. Years down the line buddy moves to where I am. I have the opportunity to drive the car, drift it, work on it, tune, help out with whatever. Felt like a team car. Took it to events, meets, touge. Naturally, life situations, I move again and don’t see the car for 2 years. It gets beat, broken, but not rebuilt. Time goes on, she sits. But cannot be laid to rest. Life situations, blessings, I get the opportunity the own the car. I drive 1200 miles to pick up the rx7. It looked like a barn find when I put it on the trailer, covered in dust. I get it home and assess the issues, fix a few so I can move it about. Rip it around a few times but on one drive it developed a major electrical issue. Car sits for a year due to life situations. I got to work on it for the first time in a while and plan to regularly whenever possible! I want my friend’s dream and spirit to live on in this car because he was so inspired to piece this thing together. And the way it all came together and the friends who have helped keep it going along the way. And I know he will drive it again and probably even own it one day.. The motor rebuild was pieced with used parts from local rx7 guys. With FD rx7 irons, FD rotors, s5 turbo, s4 rx7 other bits. Along the knowledge passed down by other rotary enthusiasts. A true frankenstein build. This car just has to live and be driven. This car has to scream again! This is how its sitting currently... car was repainted and looked great a few years ago, but now.. its trash Also I dug into the whole wiring mess, isolated every wire (harness was heavily modified) and properly insulated it all, routed nicely ect. Fixed a ton of connections and bad crimps, bad grounds, redid a lot of the harness. Found wires rubbing through on metal causing shorts, AFR 12v source intermittent connection, battery cable from trunk to starter was about to rub through and cause a fire! Haven’t taken pics as its been a few weeks since ive been into the shop.. but all that effort I did fixed the major wiring issue and I knew the instant it started up, smooth idle. Took it for a few drives and just fell in love again. The feel, sound, experience of this 80′s chassis with a 250 HP turbo rotary is just something unique and really special. This car is a few steps closer to being track worthy! -I want to delete the swirl pot setup that I don’t trust is routed correctly. And the extra port is capped with a zip tie. Which already blew off once. Rather delete this setup and eliminate extra leak points. -Car has mismatched coilovers with too stiff of springs rates -Car has nice cusco LSD rear end but need adjustable camber and toe bits + alignment -Need extra 5 lug wheels for drift spares -Few minor leaks need to be addressed -I do have bumpers for it, but cosmetics are not priority -Need to rebuild front wheel bearings -Car has Inline hydro e-brake which I am not a fan of. Going to remove it and do a dual caliper setup to retain brake feel -Exhaust leak under the car fills cabin with premix smell

-Passenger bucket seat/harness

*down the line* -BNR rebuild turbo w/ billet compressor wheel and porting

-New intercooler setup, greddy throttle body inlet, exhaust (it was made quiet for cali..no emissions where the car is now) and retune on new ECU. It’s on an old old 2000s version of adaptronics.

The motor runs great on the current setup. So I want to keep it simple for now, and just spend more time in the cockpit after I go through and make it a bit more reliable. Dreams, time, money 💖

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yourpalmickeymouse · 3 days

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Hello Mickey! How ya doing pal? (Hope you’re having a swell day)

I wanna ask, what do you think about your nephews Morty and Ferdie? I assume you’re kinda close with you considering well. You’re their uncle and I feel you do fun stuff with them sometimes. And another question is, what’s your current job right now? Do you enjoy it (or do you feel you wanna do something more fun. That you clearly enjoy the most)?

That’s all! (Sorry if it’s too long) see ya later Mickey :)

-Sunny ☀️

Hiya Sunny!

I am havin' a swell day! Thank you for askin'!

What great questions. I would love to answer 'em both.

Oh, I love my nephews Morty and Ferdie. They're just so fun and energetic and every time they come over and visit, I just know that my day is about to be 100 times more interesting. They can sometimes... get into things they shouldn't. But I also was a mischief maker back in the day, so I have no standin' to say anything. In fact, I actually see a lot of myself in them. Just like me, they can go overboard sometimes. But they also have hearts of gold and are usually clever enough to fix it, or at least know when to get help. That's usually when I come in 😆.

I know the boys can sometimes seem as if they are the same person, but they're pretty different. Morty, who tends to dress in reds, is definitely the more rowdy and brave one. He's usually the one findin' the trouble in the first place 🤦. But it comes from a strong drive for life and so much excitement for what the world has to offer. He has such big dreams and hopes and honestly, I hope he goes far. Unfortunately, he doesn't always think through what he does. He tends to run into things head-first and without warning, but he has good instincts that help keep him safe. And a lot of times his spontaneity is just what the situation needs 😉.

Ferdie, the one wearing more blues and sometimes wears glasses, on the other hand, is more shy but is extremely smart and mature for his age. He's usually the one being dragged into trouble by his brother🤷, but I think he enjoys the adventures they go on, just as much as his brother. They help him come out of his shell and be more prepared to face the unknown. He prefers when things are more planned out and can be hesitant to unexpected changes. But it is because he cares about havin' a good future. He was just askin' me about good colleges yesterday and he's not even in high school. He has a very bright future ahead of him and I cannot wait to see where he goes 🌞.

As for your second question,

I'm actually currently workin' as a Detective for the Mouseton Police Department. And honestly, things seem okay so far. I used to have another job, but they weren't treatin' me right and wouldn't let me grow in the ways I wanted to. It was tough movin' from that job as I genuinely thought that it was my dream, and revolved so much of my early life around it. But it wasn't makin' me happy, and I kinda think I misattributed some of the positive experiences I had with my sister, who is still workin' in that field, with my feelin' towards the work. Honestly, it can be tough figurin' out where you belong. And even I still feel like I haven't figured that out yet

Luckily my new job is definitely a step up. For starters, the people I work with are much better. I was already pretty close with Chief O'Hara as he was my neighbor growin' up. He tends to be very supportive and even recommended me for the detective role (even though I think I might be a bit underqualified, I didn't realize how high rank of a position it was 😓). But he says he trusts my skills and convinced the others that it was a good idea. So I guess I better not mess this up. There's so much pressure.

Though I mostly work with the other two detectives. Brick can seem a bit intimidatin' on the outside. He's pretty big. But you'll soon learn that he's neat once you talk to him. If you ask questions 'bout Texas, he'll be your best friend in an instant. Though be prepared to listen to him for hours, haha. Casey on the other hand... Well... He can be a bit of a... challenge sometimes. I think like me, he's also under a lot of pressure, and that causes him to be a bit stubborn and hesitant to get help. He apparently was really strugglin' with cases before Brick and I came into the picture and it probably felt like an attack on his pride when we came to help. But I think he genuinely cares and wants to do a good job. And with the right push, he can do a swell job.

However, it isn't just the people that make this job a step up. I actually think I am enjoyin' the work more. There is just something 'bout investigatin' and solvin' crimes that clicks with me. Every time we get a new case, I don't wanna put it down until I have it all figured out. Maybe O'Hara was onto something when he hired me. And even better yet the work I do is actually helpin' people get justice which is what I really care about. I've always wanted to make the world a better place, and I feel like I'm doin' my part with every sinister scheme I stop and every person I help.

Though, I can't say everything is perfect. While I do enjoy my work and the people I work with. There are quite a few elements of working with the Police Department that... I am not sure how I feel 'bout. It's honestly hard to talk about. I just don't want O'Hara to feel like he made a mistake. But I also want to make sure I'm doin' the right thing.

But hopefully, that answers your questions! 😄 This was pretty long, but I wanted to give you my best answers.

I hope you have a swell rest of your day, Sunny!!!

#mickey mouse #morty and ferdie #chief o'hara #detective casey #brick #askblog #answered #mickey and friends #mickey mouse and friends

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

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Oh gosh Molly what I wouldn’t give to read your take on Kate and Anthony’s internal experiences in the post Sheffield Dinner scene 👀👀

Oh this is easy.

But there is a lot to unpack emotionally there.

I thought I was done with my Season 2 meta but apparently I am not.

Let's start with Anthony, because I feel like his is the more obvious motivation. His overwhelming emotion when he leaves that room is relief. He has, from the moment he knelt in front of Edwina felt a strong mix of guilt and regret and longing for someone else and he's imagined the rest of his life knowing that the Sharmas are a close family and his wife will always want Kate close by and it's awful. Because at this point he knows he will want Kate close as well. And yet he'll dread it. He'll spend every visit anticipating her presence and feeling sickened at himself and the self-loathing that already lives so deep in his bones will thicken and sit like lead. Because he forced his own hand, it's true. He knew that what he felt for Kate was more than lust but he also thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he was a man who would never lust after his fiance's sister and that would be the end of this but he was wrong. Because here he is. Betrothed and desperately wanting another but it's done. And there was no way to undo it until this. Because they lied. And even though he has no use for a dowry (which he didn't need, Kate is right on that score, and he didn't even know it existed until right then) he can use this as an out. He can say that the Sharmas did not fulfil the terms of their agreement and he can back out. He's relieved but he's also hurt.

And he feels a but stupid because it's possible, it's possible that this was all a scheme. And he thought he knew Kate better than that. He feels just for a moment as though she might have played him for a fool. She was a fortune hunter, even if it was not for herself and he was stupid enough to fall in love with her. He's hurting and confused and still she's pushing forward. Still she's needling at him and his composure slips for just an instant in the face of her absolute obstinance and refusal to admit there's something between them.

Kate, for her part is terrified. Everything is crumbling around her. Edwina and Mary, who she's done all of this for are angry. If Edwina doesn't marry Anthony now, there will be no money and she's still hurt that Anthony would push the moments they shared aside and propose to Edwina anyway. She's annoyed at herself for still feeling this pull towards him even though he's betrothed to her sister and he won't even acknowledge what past between them and still she wants him. So she's focusing on the one thing she can fix. If she can get Anthony to still marry Edwina all is not lost. The plan can continue, there will be money for her family, she believes enough of Anthony that he would never let Mary go without and Edwina will be happy and she won't have to acknowledge the feelings she's having. She won't.

And then he ruins it. His composure slips and he steps closer to her because he knows she feels something. He felt it when he held her in the study. He felt the hitch in her breathing and he heard her gasp and lean into his touch, he knows there's something there and he can't help himself. He can't. Even when he knows tomorrow he will loathe himself for this. Not for the moment he stole but for the weakness it betrayed, for the way it compromised both their characters and made him into the very worst things his own mother thinks about him. But he loves her, and aches to be close to her and she's right there, he can't help himself. He's always been weak. Everyone knows that.

And as soon as Anthony crumbles, Kate does as well. Because she does love him, and she wishes things could be different. She wants the things he's saying to be true, even if they aren't.

That scene is both of them, clinging to one another on a jumble of emotions that neither of them can make sense of. They can only make sense of each other. And when he leaves Anthony is sure they're on the same page. This wedding cannot happen. They care for one another too deeply for that to happen, even if they cannot be, they cannot do this to themselves, they cannot do this to Edwina.

And then she takes it back in the cold light of day and Anthony is left reeling again. Because her mask is back in place, and he doesn't even know where his is anymore.

#bridgerton season 2 #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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rghfr04 · 4 months

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"Consolatio Invenitur Cum Morte"

People often remark that life is a journey with highs and lows, an emotional rollercoaster that may bring us to our greatest heights and lowest points. As a student born on April 28, 2006, my name is Arghafar H. Abbas and some people call me as ghaf, far, and bas. I am currently going through one of those troughs where worry, mental fatigue, and difficulty all seem to come together. During difficult times in my relationships and studies, throttle therapy has proven to be an unusual source of comfort.

The pressure to perform academically well is a continuous companion for students. Expectations from instructors, family, and myself might feel oppressive at times. Every task and exam turns into a battleground where I battle for my identity and self-worth in addition to my grades. I'm mentally exhausted from trying to live up to these standards and from having so much information to process.

My personal life has presented me with its own set of difficulties at the same time. It's never simple to negotiate the nuances of relationships when you're young. The accompanying emotional rollercoaster might be unbearable. My everyday stress level has increased due to the instability in my relationship, and I feel emotionally depleted.

Throttle therapy proved to be an unexpected source of solace for me in the middle of the mayhem. If only for a little instant, I discovered a haven where the din of everyday life disappears in the thunderous embrace of a motorcycle engine. Riding became into a kind of meditation and a way for me to escape the mental storms that were raging, beyond merely a means of transportation.

It's more important to find a quiet moment in the middle of the bustle than it is to go fast or rush. The motorcycle turns into a companion in this healing dance, an extension of who I am. The more I ride, the more I realize that man and machine have a symbiotic relationship—a dance of control and liberty.

I regain my sense of agency and control over anything while I'm riding, even if it's just a two-wheeled engine. The road takes on a metaphorical quality, resembling life's many curves and ups and downs. Nevertheless, at every push of the accelerator, I am constantly reminded that I am in control of how I choose to go.

Throttle therapy is not a long-term fix, as I come to understand as I travel through life's obstacles and on the road. In the big picture, it's a break, a pause button. What it does provide, though, is a reminder that even in the middle of difficulties and anxiety, there are times of relief to be found, even if they include a roaring engine and wide-open roads.

Every strand in the enormous tapestry of life adds to the total, and my experiences—both the highs and the lows—are molding me into the person I want to be. Throttle therapy has helped me manage the chaos one throttle twist at a time, even if life may be a turbulent ride.

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frozenjokes · 5 months

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boatem ghosts impulse is quickly becoming one of my favorites the more I flesh him out now that I’ve definitely figured out how the epilogue for Signing Back In, Apparently is going to end

spoilers for that fic and the following epilogue endings below. If you just want to hear me ramble about my little guys then. Enjoy. This post is just a massive character study

Every comment on ao3 about the ending of Signing Back in mentioned something about Scar and how it was disappointing (and even concerning for the futures of the characters) that he hadn’t been sufficiently punished or just, dead, which I definitely think somewhat was a flaw of the story or at the very least a flaw of my writing that his suffering wasn’t quite conveyed well enough. I think part of that had to do with Scar’s last pov chapter playing more for sillies than going the darker route I had originally intended and also with the way his final confrontation with Mumbo goes, where Scar gets the last word before leaving.

However, for me, that ending is satisfying (which, when writing for fun, is all that really matters to me personally) because it ends Mumbo’s experience with grief in the way I had always intended it, which is to say. No closure. Mumbo was never meant to have closure, and the main themes of the story were to move on without getting it.

The main reason I started writing Signing Off and Signing Back In was because of my experience with a ROUGH break up, and that being the worst grief I have ever experienced (long term relationship, I was blindsided by it ending.) I wanted to explore the grief (and overcoming grief) of each of these characters in different ways, being.

Mumbo desperately wants closure, because he believes that will be his instant fix. Mumbo’s arc is about moving on despite the answers to his questions not being satisfying. It is important that Mumbo does not kill Scar, and that Mumbo does not leave contact with Scar feeling in control.

Pearl wants Scar to die, and believes Scar being dead (preferably at her hand, making him suffer like he did to the crew) will be her instant fix. Pearl does not have a succinct arc related to her grief in the story, but if she did, it would be an exploration on revenge, and if her obsession over Scar’s death is hurting her more than his being dead would help her. (hint: she’s a wreck)

Grian’s desperately wants closure, more-so before the events of Signing Back In take place, but had an experience at the beginning of the story that makes him realize he is worse off looking for it. While most of his arc happens off screen (and is a little confused, I need to make some edits to make it smoother) he eventually realized he is worse off dwelling around Scar, and decides he does not want to know the reason he was murdered.

Impulse refuses to acknowledge Scar post-murders as the same person he knew before. He spends all his energy on trying to protect his friends, and doesn’t have much of an arc in the story, instead filling the role of support. Scar is a non-entity, he may as well be a stranger or an alien. To me, Impulse is the only person out of the group that can kill Scar. For Impulse, Scar’s death will not fix him, nor will it fix his friends, but it will keep his friends safe from further harm. Scar’s death will not fix Impulse, nor does he expect it to. Impulse’s issues with Scar are deeper than that, and might never be unpacked as the original reason Impulse latched to that coping mechanism so intently was because he expected he wouldn’t have to deal with it, as he planned to move to the afterlife before finding Hermit Island. When Impulse kills Scar at the end of the Signing Back In epilogue, he isn’t angry, even despite all the other ghosts that are mortified to see him. That isn’t Scar. In the end, he’s deeply satisfied he could keep his friends, and the only ghosts on the island safe.

this probably makes no sense I’m just vibing I love my guys

#boatemghostsau

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funkymbtifiction · 1 year

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Hey Charity! Firstly, I appreciate the hell outta you! I'm from a family of 8s and without your fined tooth comb, I would have never got to the bottom of why we always ended up at each others throats throughout my childhood. (*ahem* instinct stacking) 😆 Among other mbti / enneagram based epiphanies.

Anyways.. I wanted to ask you what your longterm takeaway on the goblins of discords reading of you is. Put it this way... if there's anything out there I trust as much as the gut instinct of the 8... it's the healthy skepticism of 6. And I get it.. they have a charming way of disarming the whole 'First things first, I disagree' mentality that you might normally bring to the table... but. In my opinion, you have more experience and ways of applying the information that goes into deducing type... hard to aim it at the 'self' though... which i get too.

Do you think their tri-type reading of you takes precedence over your own or do you revert back to your appraisal?

Or.. does the process whole process to submitting to their point of view sort of leave you ambivalent to typing as a whole since... ultimately everyone is 'entitled' to their opinion. I know theres sort of politics involved when it comes to opinions about enneagram websites and content providers but... I figure it makes a decent last question.

ps hugs and kisses, thanks so much for your dedication to this altruistic endeavor.

I started to answer this several times, and even talked to myself about it in the car on the way someplace today, but naturally I remember none of my earlier attempts, so I’ll just think/answer it as I go.

It’s been almost five months since I got my results back, and in that time, I have reconsidered, questioned, and also introspected, challenging their typing by coming at it from my inner lens. I keep looking for ways out of it, but all roads lead back to the exact same conclusion. Which is to say, I think they “nailed me.” I tried to indulge a 2 fix again for a while, but that always falls flat when I examine my motives and what I want from other people (what I want them to see, what I want them to remember about me). I am casually nice and helpful, but have no ego strategy tied to it. It’s not what makes me neurotic, 3 is what makes me neurotic. Being admired, seen as successful, being afraid of failure, shape-shifting (as much as Fi will allow, which isn’t much), being aware of how things will “look.” I am definitely the workaholic tritype – the instant I finish a massive project, I don’t exist until I start another one, and I never rest – I launch right into it.

And 1 is fairly obvious, so… yeah. I may quibble on the wings (I could see an argument for either 1w2 or 1w9 as a fix), and I’m not sure that 1 comes before 3 (I feel a lot of tension between 6 and 3), but overall I think they did a good job based on what I gave them – and when I sent them that video, after watching/editing it (to remove all the awkward pauses and paper shuffling… a very 3 fixed thing to do, managing the presentation), I thought, “They will type me as 3 fixed.” All the confusion in my own mind cleared the minute I saw myself on video. I’m not into visual typing, but that forced me out of my head and made me assess myself as an independent individual – I know enough about type dynamics to get a read on myself, if I watch myself answer questions and truly listen to what I said. I typed me based off that video as I would have typed anyone else, had it come from them – 6 (buzzy head type, all in the mind, never in the body), 1 (frustration, competency, annoyance), and 3 (accomplishment, some aggression, image-managing, “I want to be the best”).

I think there’s some value in recording a video and then watching yourself, based on what you know about the types and how they play out, assuming you know the types deeply. And I think if you are genuinely unable to introspect, or lost, or have been cycling through types for a long time, an independent assessment can go a long way into helping you gain clarity – you may or may not agree with their assessment of you, but if they provide reasoning (as Goblins do), at least you understand “why” they saw that in you, and can reject or listen to it. I don’t think anyone should just accept what an “expert” tells them about their type, but instead, take some time to consider whether it “might be” true, based on the inner experience. By watching yourself for a while, to see if/how that number’s dynamics play out in your daily life. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. You start noticing it, along with when and what triggers that fix.

I’ve said before that you can’t know your MBTI type until you both know the functions well enough to understand how they work, and have observed yourself enough to see you “doing” them in “real time” (recognizing that what you are using this very second is this or that function). It’s the same with the Enneagram. Enough introspection and “watching of me” without judgment, but by looking for certain patterns, will confirm or prove that you are/are not this or that type.

IF you decide to pay someone to type you, I recommend that you only do so with someone who a) seems to have a strong and accurate knowledge of the different types (I trust Goblins, because they know what is and isn’t 4, what is and isn’t 9, and what is and isn’t 6, the three most misrepresented and mistyped types), who has a proven track record with explanations that make sense both in the context of their argument and comparatively to what that type is, and who actually interacts with you and talks to you and/or gives an in-depth explanation, rather than just giving you an answer; because you cannot determine someone’s type from a static ten minute video, you need to interact with them and get a sense of their inner motivations.

Lastly, I encourage you to share the video in other places, to see what the general consensus is, and have spent enough time in various groups noticing who does and does not seem to have a knack for typing. If the answer you receive from the majority of people is similar, there’s a good chance that that portion of your typing is accurate. (I shared several videos in several different typing groups, and it was overwhelmingly 6-1, with people divided between 2/3 heart fixes.)

I have seen people pay a lot of money to be mistyped by various teachers, and it’s obvious from observing them that they have not done the inner work necessary to notice the mistype (6s who think they are 5s but who are always soliciting outside opinions, “4s” who make a long post about how overwhelming life is and how they internalize everyone else’s feelings [9s], and even a few 9s mistyped as 3s who display extreme withdrawn tendencies, etc).

The point of the Enneagram is inner work. The point is to learn to identify your mechanisms and learn not to do them automatically (choice vs. “nature”). If you can’t or won’t do that, it’s useless. And I should add that the only people who truly find their type are willing to be whatever their true type is; there is no ego-defense or preference for one type over another. Resistance to being X heart fixed, or Y gut fixed, or Z head fixed only impedes the process and makes you unable to see yourself clearly. When all you want is the RIGHT answer, even if you hate it, you're ready to accept the truth.

#question #enneagram #goblins of discord

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