#exceptional cognitive abilities

[in-sightpublishing]

On High-Range Test Construction 4: Iakovos Koukas on Understanding IQ Test Scores

                  Publisher: In-Sight Publishing Publisher Founding: March 1, 2014 Web Domain: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com Location: Fort Langley, Township of Langley, British Columbia, Canada Journal: In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal Journal Founding: August 2, 2012 Frequency: Three (3) Times Per Year Review Status: Non-Peer-Reviewed Access: Electronic/Digital & Open…

[scienceswitch]

What Sets Geniuses Apart? Research Spotlights 25 Key Characteristics

For ages, people have wondered – what makes a genius tick? Scientists have long studied the peculiar qualities of the world’s brightest minds. Countless experiments compare genius-level IQs with the rest of us. There’s no doubt their genes are special. But even geniuses share some traits rooted in their DNA. This helps explain how they see the world in their unique way. So if you met a genius,…

[cherry-shipping]

JESUS. I WANT TO DRAW ME AND SANS. because im out of posts to make about him but i sure as fuck aint out of feelings so thats the only thing i can do to express myself now. except im also out of drawings to make that arent unbearably embarrassing, so………..

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Psychology

concepts to help with your story/poem

All-or-nothing Thinking - In cognitive psychotherapy, a common thought distortion in which the individual irrationally evaluates everything as either wonderful or terrible, with no middle ground or “gray area”

Burnout - A state of exhaustion that relates to engaging continually in emotionally demanding work

Congruence - In humanistic psychotherapy, consistency between the real self and the ideal self; the source of mental health

Dodo Bird Verdict - A nickname for the common research finding that different forms of psychotherapy are roughly equally effective; derived from the line in Alice in Wonderland, “Everybody has won and all must have prizes”

Exception Questions - In solution-focused family therapy, a technique whereby therapists ask families to recall situations when the problem was absent or less severe

Fluid Intelligence - The ability to reason when faced with novel problems

Introspection - The process of looking inside the mind for evidence of mental processes or therapeutic change, rejected by behaviorists for its lack of objectivity

Microaggressions - Comments or actions made in a crosscultural context that convey prejudicial, negative, or stereotypical beliefs and may suggest dominance or superiority of one group over another

Negative Punishment - A form of punishment in which the individual “loses something good”

Negative Reinforcement - A form of reinforcement in which the individual “loses something bad”

Neurosis - Along with psychosis, one of the two broad categories of mental illness used in Europe in the 1800s; refers to disorders such as anxiety and depression in which the individual maintains an intact grasp on reality

Overpathologizing - Viewing as abnormal that which is actually normal; can be reduced by increasing cultural competence

Positive Punishment - A form of punishment in which the individual “gets something bad”

Positive Reinforcement - A form of reinforcement in which the individual “gets something good”

Social Support - Relationships with others who can provide support in a time of crisis and who can share in good fortune as well

Source: Clinical Psychology: Science, Practice, and Diversity (5th Edition) by Andrew M. Pomerantz

More: Word Lists

[milkcos]

lemonade mouth/band au! more notes under the cut

lemonade as in like the disney movie! so there are a couple like clear comparisons but mostly it's the bad kids get stuck in detention together except they form a band instead of an adventuring party

fabian > no equivalent (olivia vibes)

the most popular kid at school who is both in dance and on the football team. somehow gets decent grades as well. no close friends, but a lot of people who know him and want to get on his good side. kind of depressed, and his dad's currently in prison. he started playing the guitar as a way to show off and then genuinely started enjoying it

adaine > mo

she's a concert violist (playing the viola) always an accompaniment for her sister and is striking it out on her own for the first time. her family is very upset about this, and consistently puts her down so she'll go along with they want her to do. also she recently transitioned to going to public school for the first time, making her the new girl.

kristen > no equivalent

she's recently ex mormon, got out of her parents house (currently living in her car) and without all of her former friends stuck in a student president position that she got when she was still with the religion. questioning her sexuality after one too many encounters with the soccer team captain, tracker. used to be on the church choir, was a bit too enthusiastic about it.

gorgug > no equivalent (charlie vibes)

he's got like one or two kinda friends (mainly fig). extremely busy with his classes and with marching band and self isolating as a result. he's stressed out about living up to his parent's name (they run a very successful electric engineering company). signed up to work as a sound tech for the theatre department bc one of the female stage managers is very cute (zelda) and then discovered that he rlly like it.

riz > no equivalent

no friends! (other than maybe the AV club + penny) too used to burying himself in work at both his part time gig and with his insane amount of extracurriculars. started playing the piano bc he heard it helps with memory retention and overall cognitive ability.

fig > stella/wen

she's the cool loner skater kid who is the floater friend mostly? she's got a maybe relationship with ayda, who she loves to annoy at the school library. very interested in making her own music not very interested in school. freaking out over her parents getting remarried. her mom enrolled her in music lessons when she was younger, and it's one of the only things she can talk about with her mom these days.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

wish people actually respect me respect my decision respect my identity when say am nonverbal not nonspeaking.

[plain text: wish people actually respect me respect my decision respect my identity when say am nonverbal not nonspeaking.]

there this idea keep float around about how nonverbal & nonspeaking mean different things. how nonverbal = without words cannot communicate with words at all, & nonspeaking = not speak via mouth. know where it came from where it extrapolate from, but also don’t know where it came from.

because that not really true.

medical people use nonverbal. while nonspeaking coined by community of people (often autistic people who not speak from severe motor apraxia not from language communication or intellectual disability) who not speak via mouth.

in past & still now, but especially past, medical people assume cannot talk via mouth always = cannot think cannot understand, that not talk via mouth always mean have nothing to say. so they treat people who do not talk via mouth bad (because they treat people who cannot understand & people w intellectual disability bad). n because medical people use nonverbal, somehow somewhere became “nonverbal” is why think cannot think cannot understand.

but is assumption about all people who not talk via mouth. not about term nonverbal. nonverbal just tool. if use any other word, would still hold same assumption. if since very beginning used nonspeaking, but still have same assumption that not talk via mouth always = not think not understand, nothing would be different.

this assumption lead people who not talk via mouth be denied education. be denied help. because they think people not talk via mouth cannot understand. n they think people who cannot understand not deserve education or help. thus people who not talk via mouth also not deserve education or help.

so many people who not talk via mouth but can understand can use words fight back. hey we can understand can learn can communicate in other ways can use words. n because medical people use nonverbal when describe their assumption, some of them also fight back against term nonverbal. maybe they can’t separate term used from assumption because it so tangle together. so they say they not nonverbal they nonspeaking. okay.

except some of them fight back against assumption by saying, they deserve education deserve help because they intelligent. because their “mind intact”. because they can write complex grammar correct just like everyone else, as long as with proper help. because all that ability they deserve help.

but what about those who not intelligent by their standards by doctor standards, who have intellectual disability, who mind “not intact” (whatever that means?), who even with best help cannot write communicate complex & grammar correct? this punch down advocacy, leaving people behind advocacy, throw people under bus advocacy, am very uncomfortable by. find it dangerous.

many people who do this also call self nonspeaking, reject nonverbal.

but still, know is fault of people (some who happen call self nonspeaking) themselves, not inherent term “nonspeaking” fault.

n yes, because seen so many people who call self nonspeaking hold this idea, even tie their intelligence their language abilities as reason why they nonspeaking not nonverbal, am often on guard nervous when meet people who call self nonspeaking n strongly refuse nonverbal.

n because disability really affect cognitive, & my language communication disability exist n visible even with best communication support, simply don’t feel like nonspeaking & nonspeaking community represent me. so personally, am not nonspeaking.

still, not get to tell others, you’re not nonspeaking. or that term nonspeaking make me uncomfortable so people not allow call self that, that it wrong term wrong definition.

same reverse. okay, because your past you get nervous n upset about term nonverbal n struggle separate term from everything else. so don’t call self nonverbal call self nonspeaking. but still, you still not get tell me how should call self. because nonverbal not actual mean that, as explained above.

am respect people call self nonspeaking. not going tell you you not nonspeaking. not going tell you that community you ally for advocating with, they not nonspeaking. just wish had same respect extent to me.

respect that for you or someone you know, them writing spelling typing is be verbal. wish got same respect for me, that my AAC is me speaking.

have been attacked n harassed n bullied for call self nonverbal. be denied community for call self nonverbal instead of “more appropriate” nonspeaking. have been called fake n all sorts of names n bad things n be told am not nonverbal bc other people know better than me. used to be okay with both terms, but pushed by harassment n bullying to go opposite direction, “actually. am nonverbal. only nonverbal. fuck you.” be done by speaking people. by nonspeaking people. don’t know which group more insulting to receive from.

feel betrayed by the people who say this who also cannot speak via mouth. we so similar yet we so different, n you deny my existence when am trying so hard make sure both us get express our different self.

feel… don’t even know how feel, about speaking people with more communication abilities communication privilege, cognitive abilities & privilege, overall more abilities n less support needs n more privilege, benefiting from all that while argue over me about personal experience how personal call self, who struggle even be aware of feeling n ideas n then communicate basic ideas in back n forth conversations.

it truly such huge MACRO aggression for other people tell me, someone who actually can’t talk via mouth, that am wrong about what say about self. to tell someone with cognitive issues that they know abt me better than me. as if there isn’t already extensive history of people do this to people like me.

call self nonverbal not mean think be deny education deny help all your trauma okay. call self nonspeaking not mean less ableist better advocate for people who not talk via mouth (which include people with ID & communication difficulties not just mouth speech). people who call self nonverbal not your trauma, people who call self nonspeaking not automatic free of ableism.

let me be. include me in your advocacy. not your punching bag. not your ladder to discard behind while you climb for your rights.

[mycurrentobsessionis]

@pink-pearl-plain-jeans took a few days but here. hope this is something you actually wanted lol. this is lowkey a ramble but it is an informed ramble.

First, you are gonna seriously regret asking me, because I have nearly 300 hours logged between these two games and half a masters degree in clinical psychology.

Second, to be fair, you don't have know a lot about ballroom dancing -- I know almost nothing. Toward the end of Step 4 on Baxter's route, he will joke to Jamie about the irony of ballroom dancing, which requires both a partner and a certain level of intimacy, is his most beloved hobby, when the ability to form close, intimate relationships is his biggest struggle.

Baxter is a pretty good example of what disorganized, or fearful-avoidant, attachment looks like in adults. He both desperately wants to form emotional connections with others and intensely fears those same attachments, viewing them as inherently unsafe and unstable. The player can see this in the way Baxter attempts to form lots of superficial connections where he overshares personal details while also being evasive about his deeper feelings. He is aware that he needs some level of human interaction and works to fill that need without leaving himself vulnerable to being hurt or abandoned. This can occur in individuals who had inconsistent parents growing up. Baxter's relationship to dancing mirrors his emotional progression with attachment to others.

As a child, he has a stable group of friends and dances at the country club competitively, and thus likely has a stable, consistent partner with whom he performs. We know very little about Mr. and Mrs. Ward, except for the following:

They are older.

They are wealthy, and likely old money.

They are bigoted, like being queerphobic and racist.

They expected Baxter to behave with greater maturity than would have been typical for his age and "at times, as if he was even older [than them]."

He did not want to spend his first summer after college with them, so they shipped him off to a tiny beachside tourist town, either not caring or not knowing that he is petrified of the ocean.

Something about Baxter would be a problem, and they would hate him if he were someone else's child.

From this, we can garner a few things. The first is that the Wards were likely emotionally immature, possibly parentified him, and likely played "it's okay if it's you" card. When we meet Baxter as a child in OLNF, he is clearly very fond of Qiu, Ren, and possibly Tamarack and Franky as well. These relationships likely provided insulation from parents who alternated between being emotionally distant and overcontrolling. It also makes sense that Baxter would be drawn to younger children here. Baxter chalks it up to his own immaturity, but I would argue that it is in fact because he is precocious that he chooses a younger friend group. Kids his own age would likely be put off by his attitude and may take it as condescending, whereas younger children would appreciate him as older and wiser. Additionally, younger children give him the opportunity to play and engage in silly antics that he may have missed out the first time.

I also wouldn't be surprised if there was some cognitive dissonance as well, since his parents probably espoused queerphobic ideals while also professing to love Baxter, who himself is bisexual and knew very well that he was attracted to boys by the age of 12. Given this, and the amount of bitterness with which he later speaks about them, it also would not surprise me if they had some influence on his drifting apart from Ren and Qiu as they got older. Not that this has to be the case, but I could see Baxter avoiding bringing his very-visibly queer friends (including one who is also a POC) around his parents to avoid hurting them.

He grows up and appears in OLBA as a teen who is somewhat adrift. He doesn't appear to have a stable friend group or sense of identity, and he has limited his contact with his parents to the minimum amount that he feels obligated to contact them. Now, shifting identity is pretty normal for young adults, but Baxter's seems less stable than it should be. What I actually thought was really interesting is the subtle shift between Baxter as he presents himself and as he actually is. He presents himself as accommodating, complimentary, confident, and friendly. The person he actually is -- the one he thinks no one will like -- is sardonic, self-effacing, mischievous, and lonely. In his desire to be included, he avoids imposing his will on others -- Jamie can even convince him to wear a swimsuit and go into the ocean if they really want, something he is terrified to do. He is only able to be genuine if either (a) Jamie has made an explicit effort to show him he is accepted or (b) he is emotionally dysregulated enough that he is unable to keep up the charade

Anyway, at this point, he is presumably no longer competing, and no longer has a steady partner. In his first interaction with Jamie and Cove, he is immediately offering to be their partner, which is a deliberate double-entendre. He comes on strong, because he needs the relationship to begin quickly in order the get what he needs out of it. He has no intention of actually taking the time to get to know people or build a genuine connection with them. It's about control here. Also note that he offers this with the implication that he would be teaching them to dance. Even in asking for a temporary connection, he's framing it as him offering a service in exchange for their company because he doesn't see himself as valuable on his own (Qiu also does this btw). In summary, he is dancing with people he barely knows because while the steps won't be familiar or comforting, he doesn't have to worry about mistakes either. (dun dun dun, the mortifying ordeal of being known!)

As an adult, he shifts this into a more formalized version. He isn't stupid, nor does he enjoy hurting people. He knows that most people are unwilling to abandon relationships so quickly, and he knows he's hurt people. The thing about attachment styles is that you can develop a secure attachment style as an adult. The problem is that you do this by essentially re-parenting yourself. Learning to treat himself with self-compassion is really difficult, though, because that's a learned skill. He needs community or a therapist. The problem is that because of his disorganized attachment style, forming a community is difficult and he would probably also have trouble finding a therapist because that would require a level of vulnerability that he struggles with. Baxter also heavily relies on avoidance as a coping mechanism. When he enters into a relationship, because he is primed to view them as unpredictable and conditional, it activates his fight-flight-freeze response. He then attempts to escape the situation by (a) leaving, (b) ghosting/ignoring, and (c) distancing himself using social niceties to avoid confrontation. If he is cornered (like the end of step 3), he switches to fight mode and becomes caustic. This may indicate that if he entered a therapeutic relationship, he is likely to end therapy prematurely to avoid thinking about his loneliness and attachment issues.

So, because he knows he hurts people by doing all of this, and because he doesn't know how to maintain a relationship, he formalizes the arrangement. People literally pay him for a service (planning) and because he is "in" on such an intimate event, he still gets the feeling of getting to know people and be included, without the emotional risk. Same thing with dancing.

That's why dancing with him after the wedding is such a big deal. Yes, it's a callback to a very special moment for Baxter, but it's also a metaphor for re-entering a relationship. He's been looking at and judging his relationships on the ruptures not the repairs, and to be able to repair a relationship after the mask has come off, the set's been wrecked, and the crowd is gone means that he has lived a lonely life for no reason.

Anyway, all this is to say that Cove was 100% right when he clocked that Baxter was insincere and interacted with people in a really weird way. No one listened though.

[task800]

i know that rk800 and rk900 are p much identical in-game in every way except for rk900 having a different jacket and demon-tier blue eyes, BUT. i like the idea of them having slightly different builds just based on their intended use

like, rk800 being a prototype designed primarily for investigative work, and also to test the memory upload ability = fast, lightweight materials that are sturdy but inexpensive to replace, hardware-mobility features designed to parkour around obstacles, high dexterity but at the cost of raw strength, tons of delicate sensory hardware optimized for maximum data-collection and analysis, with combat capabilities added in as an afterthought

rk900 being intended for military combat use and NOT for recon = heavy-duty materials capable of exerting and withstanding tons of force, durability prioritized to last even in the worst conditions, dexterity traded in for sheer power, and physical/cognitive flexibility dialed back in favor of efficient mission completion

i want rk800 doing the MOST to flip over a wall, and i want rk900 to walk through the wall koolaid man style

[wildflowerluver]

all i need to hear

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

aaron’s comfort is all you need

cw: one bed + nightmare trope, friends to lovers-ish, nightmare, case details, reader gets injured

wc: 3.8k

༺♡༻

everyone’s allowed to have a tough case. 

j.j. experiences it most with children and rossi with people he’s dealt with in his earlier times at the bau, but you, nothing really seems to stop you. it’s remarkable, really. 

this case seems to be the exception.

the team is sent somewhere in colorado. it’s a small town, nestled in the forest though the mountains prove to be a bigger challenge in locating evidence that the p.d. had indicated.

your anxiety flares when garcia presents the victim list while you’re on the plane. you had left in such a rush that there was no prior debriefing in quantico.

they look like you. 

same hair color, eye color, all of it. 

subconsciously, you know these details aren’t exclusive to you but the uneasiness can’t be shaken. even emily raises an eyebrow in your direction. 

“-we need to get started right away when we land,” hotch’s voice breaks you out from where you’ve zoned out after staring at the pictures. “the unsub is progressing rapidly. we have no time to waste.” 

it’s a miracle you know where to go when you arrive. you missed hotch handing out assignments and chose to follow j.j. and hotch closely instead. you’re still on edge. no one else seems to pick up on your mood and for that you’re grateful. 

the weather doesn’t help either; rain and thunderstorms all week. great for catching an unsub.

____

you’re exhausted, everyone is.

two straight days of work with little time to rest was seriously impacting the cognitive abilities of the team. it happened on certain cases, very rarely, but still occurred.

hotch had stopped the team on the second night, ordering everyone to go back to the hotel to get some rest. hotel rooms were limited and rossi won the drawing for the only single room. everyone else seems to find their pair naturally.

that leaves you paired with hotch who doesn’t say much as you head towards the elevator. he picks up on your body language of not wanting to speak. 

you’re still anxious, on edge. it’s not the sleeping arrangements or the sleep deprivation, it’s the case. 

everything around you is moving too slow or too fast. you can’t even control it. one minute you’re stepping off the elevator and heading towards your room with hotch and the next you're stopping in your tracks at the sight of the room.

one bed.

it’s large enough to accommodate the both of you but your heart flutters at the realization you would be sharing a bed. you don’t say anything and neither does he. two adults can share a bed. it’s not a big deal.

your mind is already drifting back to the past two days.

hotch maneuvers around your frozen form to put your bags in the right spots before he turns to you.

“y/n?” 

you don’t hear him.

“y/n” he tries again, this time placing a hand on your shoulder.

you flinch, though you try to play it off with a roll of the shoulders.

“do you want to take first shower?”

you nod, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ as you gather pajamas and head in. you try not to think of the case as you shower, though your mind can only drift to one place; aaron. you’re sharing a bed. it’s an odd pairing, given you usually room with emily or even spencer and especially with how you feel about hotch; something only emily knows about.  

you slip into bed without another word to the man in the room. exhaustion creeps in your bones and you know you can chalk your quietness to that.

staying awake to ensure that the sleeping arrangements are okay seems like the best idea. you shut your eyes, promising to yourself that you were just resting until he was finished. you loll off to sleep to the sound of hotch’s shower.

aaron exits the bathroom to see you asleep. you’re curled up on your side of the bed, arms wrapped in a protective manner around yourself.

he knows you're not feeling well, not on a work level but a personal one too.

aaron promises to himself that he’s going to look out for you.

__

you shoot up, clawing at the sheets to push them off of your now sweaty body.

it couldn’t have been later than two in the morning and the terror from the nightmare jerks you out of the very little sleep you’d gotten.

breaths turn ragged as you collapse out of bed and onto the floor. you press your forehead to the carpet, hands clutching at your heart that feels like it could burst out of your chest at any second.

it wasn’t a horror nightmare, per say, but rather a psychological one; where everything just feels….off. adding onto the emotions of the case, everything was becoming too much.

the sobbing comes next.

between the gasps for air and your bawling, it was only a matter of time before aaron woke up. at first, he thought you were simply getting up to use the bathroom. but, the thud on the floor proved him otherwise.

“y/n?”

he must’ve said your name multiple times. it doesn’t seem to register until he’s kneeling down in front of you.

“y/n?” aaron tries again. “can i touch you?”

you don’t respond verbally. squeezing your hands around your head feels like a better option, safer.

his hands find yours, gently removing them from the grip on your hair. he doesn’t let go, doesn’t let up his pressure in the slightest. 

aaron only lets his right hand go from where they hold yours. he keeps his left hand resting on your wrist. his next task is to get your head off of the floor. he moves to cradle your cheek to lift your head up, but your voice stops him.

“aaron-” you stutter. “aaron i can’t breathe.”

“hey hey, sweetheart look at me,” you’re in a state of such panic that the pet name doesn’t even sink in. “match my breathing, okay? deep breath in, deep breath out.”

his instructions make you feel like a child; like you’re at the doctor and they just placed a stethoscope on your back.

but you suppose that’s his job, that’s your job.

you don’t know what’s happening to you.

you never have night terrors, especially not ones on cases.

it takes a few minutes for your breathing to steady. you keep your eyes on aaron, blinking back the tears that are still welling up. you can finally breathe easy and aaron considers that the first step in helping you.

you’ve moved from your prior position of being curled on the floor to settling against the wall, half propped against the ac unit and the other half against aaron’s chest.

it feels odd, wrong, like you aren’t supposed to be this intimate with your friend boss. feelings aside, the embarrassment sets in quickly.

aaron knows some things off when you press your forehead into your knees.

“i’m sorry.” your voice is weak, small.

aaron raises an eyebrow. “what for?”

“i woke you up, i’m sorry. i swear this doesn’t normally happen. i don’t know what caused it. i’m really really sorry for disturbing you,” you ramble off an apology.

“y/n, it’s alright,” he reassures. “i promise.”

you keep your forehead down. for once, aaron feels like he is unable to profile you. the rule the team point in place aside, he can’t tell if you’re flushed with embarrassment or still feeling uneasy from your dream. 

“what makes you feel better when this happens?”

his question is with good intentions but your face turns even more red.

“pressure,” you answer honestly. “i usually sleep with a weighted blanket but it gets too heavy to bring so i left it.”

aaron goes quiet and you think you’ve gone too far. you’re already sharing a bed, you’ve already had a panic attack in front of him, and he’s already seen you cry.

“let’s get to bed.”

he extends both hands to help you to your feet.

when you’re both standing, he doesn’t let go of your palms, but rather guides you over to your side of the hotel bed.

aaron’s hand stays on the small of your back and lifts up the covers to help you in. if you weren’t still terrified, you would have blushed. you lie down and peer up towards the older man.

“pressure, right?” you can hear the underlying tone of permission in his voice.

you hum.

his movements are slow to provide you plenty of time to stop him. but, you don’t. he finally settles behind you, pulling your body to his so there’s barely any room.

instinctively, your arms wrap around his that rest on your stomach.

it shocks you at what aaron was doing. you were cuddling. never in your life had you thought you’d be where you were right now. you want to convince yourself so badly of how unprofessional the situation is, but you just can’t. between the terror you were feeling and your unanswered feelings, cuddling with aaron felt like a dream.

“hotch?” 

he hums into the back of your neck, signaling to you that he’s still awake.

“thank you,” you whisper.

he squeezes you and pulls your body a little closer to his.

“i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

a promise. and for once, you think it’ll stay true.

true to his word, you wake up still in hotch’s arms. you’ve shifted slightly in the night, however; hotch’s arm had snaked under your head to hold you in a makeshift hug. you feel selfish in wanting his alarm to never go off so you can stay like this.

you’re dreading the stereotypical awkward conversation that’s going to come out of all this but in the moment, you don’t care. you’re still embarrassed from your nightmare and hotch filling the void of your weighted blanket was making you feel better.

the bliss ends when aaron’s alarm blares. you quickly shut your eyes, wanting to savor it as long as possible. you feel him shift from behind you, gently pulling his arm away and propping himself up on his elbow.

“y/n, y/n,” hotch shakes you awake. 

you groan, feigning sleep as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“how’d you sleep?”

“better with you there,” you admit.

your words slip out before you can even think. it felt natural to say, like it was a given. hotch’s face stills before slipping into a soft smile. “good, i’m glad.”

silence falls over the room. you’re still close, you with your legs crossed and him laying on his side. he’s below you and you think about how easy it would be to lean down and press your lips together. you wonder if he's thinking the same and the second you see his eyes flicker down to your mouth, you legitimately consider going for it.

but, there’s a knock on the door. turns out you might’ve stayed in bed longer than you realized.

“come on! we gotta get going!”

you sigh.

back to work.

_____

garcia gives the name and address of a potential suspect.

hotch sends you and morgan to the house with a ‘call if you find anything.’

you step away to gather yourself, ensuring that your gun is in your belt and you have your phone on you; simple procedure. you don’t miss how hotch and morgan talk quietly among themselves, the unit chief seeming to be giving instructions. you know they’re talking about you.

morgan doesn’t mention it when he walks over to you. “ready to go?” he doesn’t use a nickname. strange. 

you nod, looking back over at your shoulder to hotch who still seems to still have his eyes trained on you. “yeah i am.” hotch takes one step in your direction.

“be careful.” 

his words are directed at you.

anxiety stabs at your stomach. 

___

hands are pressing to hold your cheeks.

your ears are ringing. everything is too quiet. the blurred figure in front of you is moving their lips, if they’re talking, you can’t hear them. 

it takes a couple long, slow blinks for your surroundings to even make sense. 

you were in the suspects home. you and morgan had gone to do an interview. one he opened the door, he saw you and grinned. you can’t seem to forget the way he made you feel just hours ago. like you were next. he had decided to run not too long after that. you chased him. anything after that was beyond you. 

“y/l/n, are you okay? what happened?” 

you know that voice.

hotch. 

you peer at his now focused face and tilt your head. it takes a moment for you to figure out how to speak. your tongue feels fifty pounds in your mouth. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re bleeding.”

the warm sensation on your forehead seems to set in. oh. something happened.

“something happened,” you voiced.

“something happened,” hotch repeated 

you aren’t at your best. it’s clear to everyone, not just him.

“let’s get you to an ambulance.” hotch helps you to your feet, securing an arm around your waist to help you walk. you’d been knocked out. it was a miracle you were walking and talking as quick as you were.

the ambulance is fuzzy. the lights are too bright. it doesn’t help that it’s late morning and the sun is shining. hotch notices you squint your eyes and uses his palm as a visor with enough room for the emt’s to work.

“no concussion. no hospital. we’ll patch her up with some zipstiches and she’ll just need to take it easy.” you really hope hotch, or anyone, is listening to the emt’s diagnosis and instructions because you can’t.

you’re cleaned and cleared in no time. the pouding doesn’t seem to cease. 

“where’s the team?”

hotch takes a seat at the back of the ambulance next to you.

your knees bump together and thighs press against each other. you’re close.

“they’re at the precinct. we got the guy. he knocked you out. morgan went after him.” he’s talking in simple sentences that are easy to understand.

“oh.”

you couldn’t even help with the takedown.

“you’re cleared to fly,” hotch starts. “we’re heading home tonight.’

thank god.

the drive back to the precinct is spent in silence. you can feel hotch’s gaze on you but you stare out the window. you don’t feel like talking to him, about anything. the team greets you with soft smiles or a squeeze of the shoulder. morgan collects you in his arms, muttering an apology about leaving you behind. you nod into his shoulder. no big deal.

the plane ride back to d.c. and drive to quantico goes by before you know it but you still don’t feel well.

the guy was caught. why were you so on edge still?

the bullpen is suffocating.

it’s a silent agreement that everyone would stay later to finish their reports. some adrenaline had yet to wear off and finishing the initial case report would greatly lessen the workload for tomorrow. 

you stare down at the top of the paper.

just write your statement, it’s not that hard.

everyone around you seems to delve into their work. the pen scratching sends you into another spiral about the case. 

your head hurts.

hotch exits his office, titling his head when he notices you still at your desk.

“y/n? what are you still doing here?” he questions.

it takes you a moment to process the words before blinking twice and looking at him. “was doing my report,” you mumble. the bullpen is eerily quiet.

had everyone already left? did you not even notice?

two hours had passed. for you, it felt like twenty seconds.

you look back towards your report.

you hadn’t even been able to write your name.

hotch walks down the steps and heads to your desk, abandoning his bag on the floor. 

“i think you and i are both aware something happened this case,” his voice has dropped the authoritarian tone. it’s lighter, the one he uses when talking to someone emotional on cases. you supposed that that’s you right now. “it’s okay to have off cases, y/n. we all have them.”

that’s not it.

you want to explain so bad.

you trust him, with your life if it ever came down to it.

“hotch i-” you’re shaking, tongue going heavy in your mouth. it’s easier to drop your head and hide from his burning gaze.

you press your palms to your pants, desperately trying to wipe off the moisture that’s cumulated. hotch appears in your eyeline as he kneels down in front of you. “what’s going on?”

tears form at your waterline.

“hotch i’m scared.”

your voice is hushed.

“i can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. cases have made me anxious before but never scared.”

he squeezes your hand. “i’m right here, y/n. we caught the unsub. nothing is going to happen, i promise.”

you shake your head, eyes snapping around to check your surroundings. “that’s it. i know we caught the unsub and i’m still so paranoid. we’re alone in this bullpen and i still feel-”

you feel sick.

admitting your emotions is hard, especially in the bau. you profile human behavior for a living, you would think you would be able to manage your own.

“come home with me tonight,” hotch voices. “you’re in no state to be alone.”

he doesn’t minimize what you’re feeling, nor does he try and force you to dive further into your terror past the initial confession. 

you nod, releasing your hands to brush your hair out of your eyes. “right,” you start, “i’m not.” helpless, that’s all you can feel.

“you know it’s not like that.”

you become acutely aware of your interlocked hands. 

hotch sighs. “jack is away for the weekend with jessica so my apartment is empty. i would feel a lot better if you were there at least for tonight.”

you would too. 

“okay.”

hotch helps you to your feet, grabbing both yours and his bags and shoving the file into it. it can wait until tomorrow. he guides you out of their building and to his car.

___

you’ve been in hotch’s apartment before. only a few times, though, when you’ve watched jack.

it’s how you remember it. it feels like a home. jack’s drawings and tests cover the fridge and artwork sits in frames on the walls. 

“do you want to watch something on tv? or we can go to bed,” hotch asks after only a moment and you weigh your options. as much as you want to stay up, the adrenaline from the case has already started to wear off.

“bed,” you answer quietly. you’re unsure of where you’re going to be sleeping. it feels awkward to ask. 

you pick at the cuticles to distract yourself from the silence.

“if you’re more comfortable, i’ll make up the couch,” he offers.

no. no. no.

“absolutely not,” you laugh. you realize how your tone sounds and take a stride over to him, leaning against the wall. “i slept really well when we shared the hotel room.” it took courage to admit that.

“so you’ll sleep in mine? with me?” he sounds hopeful.

you don’t want him to think you’re throwing yourself at him.

“hotch-.”

“aaron,” he corrects you.

right. you aren’t at work. still, referring to your boss by his first name when you’re so used to his last feels odd. but then again, so did cuddling.

“aaron,” you spoke. the last time you had used his first name was when you had your nightmare. “are you sure?”

“i am.” 

you smile. “then we can share.”

aaron guides you to his bedroom, pointing out where the ensuite is and handing you an extra toothbrush. you get changed in the bathroom and splash some water on your face. you were sharing a bed for the second time - this time by choice.

he’s not in the room when you exit. you assume he’s somewhere else in the apartment, locking things up. you slide under the covers, choosing the same side you did back in the hotel room.

your phone buzzes on aaron’s beside and you pick it up to read the message.

take the day off tomorrow and get some rest. you all deserve it.

you smile. usually aaron gives you a late start after cases. a day off is a luxury.

you can hear his footsteps padding down the hallway and you rush to put your phone down. aaron enters the bedroom, smiling in your direction at the site of you curled in his bed and places a glass of water he’s holding down.

“how are you feeling?”

you peer up at him.

he’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed and eyes boaring into you.

“better,” you admit. it’s not a lie, you feel safer at his - with him. 

“and your head?”

your fingers drift up to where the bandage lays. it feels like days ago that you got hurt when it was merely a few hours prior. “it hurts a little but i’ll live.”

“well hopefully the medicine kicks in soon,” he adds. “i also think getting some rest would help.”

“i could get some rest if someone would get in bed.”

he raises his hands. mock defeat. 

aaron then moves to lay down in bed, leaning over to turn the light off.

you can still make out his face from the moonlight that pours in through the window. he’s looking at you, waiting for you to say something.

“i forgot my weighted blanket.” there’s a hint of amusement in your voice.

aaron beams.

“come here,” he spoke.

you waste no time in all but launching your body at his. he’s on his back and you curl into his side, head on his chest and legs intertwined with his.

“is this okay?” you ask earnestly.

“more than okay,” aaron answers. 

you hide your smile in his neck, toying with the hem of his t-shirt. “going shy on me?” his tone is teasing. busted. you pull your head back slightly and peer up at him.

“i’m really proud of you, you know,” hotch starts. you raise an eyebrow. “for this case i mean. i don’t know, you seem like a lot doesn’t affect you and when it did, you still prevailed.”

the deep blush that spreads across your cheeks is thankfully hidden by the darkness.

“really couldn’t have done it without you,” you try and emphasize the last part. it’s true, you really wouldn’t have been able to stay together if he wasn’t there.

aaron stiffens and for a minute you think you misunderstood his prior words.

“i’m here for you, always.”

“promise?” 

he leans down to press your foreheads together.

“i promise.”

[prodigal-explorer]

why i hate sunflower (sunny x basil) - a rather unprofessional essay

spoilers for omori below

and also i'm not gonna tag this as hate because it's literally just the truth. cry about it.

respectfully, it's a horrible ship. i might just be saying that because i hate basil, but i just cannot see it ever being healthy. basil destroyed everybody's lives with what he did, and even if they decide to forgive him, what happened to them won't just be reversed. not to mention the codepedent/abusive aspect of the whole situation.

basil expects sunny to dedicate his entire life to him and his emotional well-being. you shouldn't be responsible for anyone's emotional well-being when you're fifteen years old except for your own.

even in the game, there is evidence of something codependent. basil can't function like a decent human being when sunny explains that he's going away. basil literally HURTS SUNNY to the point where he needs to be hospitalized in an attempt to make him stay. and you think that would work romantically? heck no.

yeah, they smile at each other at the end, but does that really mean anything? forgiveness is great, but it doesn't take back what happened and the effects it had. sunny will always remember when he tried to leave and got his eye taken out.

and the fact that sunny is so heavily traumatized because of what basil decided to do to his dead sister is just insane to me. he's always going to see that image. i get that basil had good intentions or whatever but intention doesn't equal effect. if i ran you over with my car, it doesn't matter that i was twelve or that it was an accident. you would still have to go to the hospital.

and when people say "but he was just a kid he didn't know any better!". if basil had the cognitive ability to think of doing that, he had to cognitive ability to stop, or AT LEAST to admit what he did. if he did, then hero wouldn't blame himself for years and years, aubrey wouldn't have been abandoned, and mari would have been respected after she died. what basil did was extreme disrespect to the dead and it gives me chills just thinking about it.

and he did it to sunny's SISTER.

i just don't see why you guys don't care more about that? that's a bit more than a little red flag that is like a red ocean.

end of story, sunflower is a horrible ship and i don't get why the fandom is so obsessed with it. it makes me sick just seeing it.

especially when this is such a beautiful story when you look at it from a friendship pov! why does everything have to be about romance and uwu little gay boys? i know damn well if basil was a girl nobody would be shipping him with sunny, you guys just want a gay male relationship to fixate on and infantilize because that's what toxic fandom people DO. but that's a digression.

anyway if you like sunflower you're a threat to society. womp womp go cry. or better yet stop shipping it that would be lovely.

[hyperfixationstation128]

I'm sure this has been said before, but I'm of the opinion that Gale didn't love Mystra. Not really, anyway.

"But, Hyper!" You cry, "He tells the player flat out that he was in love with her! What are you talking about?"

Well, allow me to shed a little light on what it is I mean.

It's pretty much unanimously agreed within the fandom that Gale is Autistic, which I find awesome. He's such a great source of representation for those of us who've been through similar experiences and relate to his personality. Those of us with Autism know the frustration of being portrayed as "the weird kid", "the manic pixie dream girl" or even as non-verbal people with a propensity towards violence with our meltdowns. Fun fact: not every person with Autism has "violent meltdowns", some of us go through what's called a shutdown, where we become non-verbal, secluded and kinda "stop working".

"Okay, okay, that's cool and all, but what do you mean by Gale didn't love Mystra?"

I applaud your enthusiasm and am going to explain now. As someone with Autism, someone who's been researching the topic for years, and someone with immediate family members who are on vastly different sides of the spectrum, I can say with about 95% confidence that Gale did not love Mystra... not for real, anyway. He had what is called "Limerence".

Well, why don't we turn to the internet to look up the definition of the word. "Limerence is a psychological state characterized by an intense, all-consuming romantic infatuation. It is an involuntary cognitive and emotional state in which an individual feels an overwhelming desire for another person, known as the “limerent object.” This state was first defined by psychologist Dorothy Tennov in the 1970s."

Now, the act of limerence is completely involuntary and could happen to anyone, neurodivergent or neurotypical! However, based on anecdotal evidence, it appears to affect women with Autism more than anyone else. When you experience limerence with someone, they become everything to you. You are completely obsessed with them, they can do no wrong in your eyes, they are everything to you.

Sound familiar? The way Gale describes how he viewed Mystra is unmistakably Limerence, at least in my opinion. And if you aren't convinced, allow me to be vulnerable for a minute and share a personal story on my experience with Limerence.

I was about 12 or 13 when I first met my friend, let's call her Tina. Now, Tina was that one girl in school who loved anime, played the violin, and made incredible art. From the first moment I met her, I was smitten. And this went far beyond a normal teenage crush. I was obsessed with her, her opinion, her tastes, her likes and dislikes. I was so in love (I thought) that once stole my late grandmother's wedding ring and gifted it to her. I devoted every breath in my body to her, every fiber of my being. We were friends for years and even dated for a while. In my mind, we were meant to be. We got along great, she was funny, silly, and so incredibly talented. What I didn't know - or maybe didn't want to believe - was she didn't feel the same way.

"But, Hyper! Isn't that just unrequited love?" No, dear reader... 'tis not. Limerence is not love, no matter how much you may want it to be; no matter how deep your feelings feel like they are. Limerence is an unhealthy obsession and there is typically very little one can do to sway oneself from their "object of desire". In the mind of the person with Limerence, there's nothing else in the world except the person they're obsessing over.

Now, there are three stages to Limerence: Infatuation, crystallization, and deterioration, which all seem pretty self-explanatory, but I'll explain further for those of you who don't know.

Infatuation: The first time you notice the other person's positive qualities. Their eyes, their smile, their abilities/talents.

Crystallization: The "obsessive" part of the act. Where you feel a heightened sense of anxiety, walking on eggshells to avoid any "turn-offs" around the other person. You may find yourself thinking about them to the point where it's affecting your normal, daily life.

Deterioration: When the intensity of your feelings begin to wane, and you no longer find yourself attracted to or wanting the attention of the person you were pursuing. In my experience, this is the worst part of Limerence as it usually blew up in my face.

Now, you may be thinking something along the lines of "Okay, but how does this relate to Gale?" or "Are you trying to imply that Gale was abusive towards Mystra? That's ridiculous and you suck!!!" and you're right. I do suck. But I'm not implying that Gale was abusive towards Mystra. Given the fact that she's a literal goddess, it's impossible for that to have happened. What I'm implying is that how Gale viewed Mystra for the time that he was with her was not genuine, true love like how he has with Tav.

This post got way longer than I originally anticipated and I'd love to write a full-length essay on this someday, but I feel I've assaulted y'all's brains with enough jargon for now. If you guy wanna hear more of my thoughts on this particular subject, I'd be more than happy to oblige.

Please feel free to keep the discussion going in the comments or your own post! I adore Gale and discussing things like these regarding his character and personality is my bread and damn butter.

[sirenalpha]

I'm not gonna get into it on the actual post because I don't want to start shit after how Aang posts have gone down and it's not like I saw it cuz it was tagged wrong or something

but it is wild to see someone say Azula's downfall was well written in atla and then also say what Zuko should have done and implying he was morally obligated to do so was not fight her and instead offer her love and support so he's in the wrong for accepting the agni kai challenge and fighting her

this blatantly ignores that Azula has manipulated and abused Zuko since childhood even though they also admit that Azula tried to kill him twice recently as a defense of Zuko's actions which is definitely some cognitive dissonance, but it's another instance I've seen of someone acting as if Zuko is incorrect or blinded by his father or otherwise mistaken when he says things like 'Azula always lies' despite the show demonstrating that actually Zuko is seeing her extremely clearly as she can even successfully manipulate him using the truth

Zuko does not owe Azula love and support just because they are blood relatives anymore than he owes Ozai especially not any time before the war has ended and she is still a threat to his personal safety and also to his goal of achieving peace seeing as she tried to kill Zuko twice leading up to the finale and she also came up with the plan to raze the Earth Kingdom

Giving her a hug isn't gonna fix that situation exactly the same as it wouldn't with Aang when it comes to Ozai

except this person thought Aang v Ozai was ultimately a triumph of pacifism over imperialism whereas the love and support vs fear and isolation of Zuko vs Azula is only pure tragedy not a victory of one ideology over another and I really have to wonder how this person came to that conclusion

Aang v Ozai is also a man to man battle same as Zuko v Azula and Katara v Azula which is not exactly pacifism

Aang doesn't kill Ozai in the end, and neither does Zuko or Katara kill Azula (instead she nearly kills Zuko) so again no different on the pacifism front

The major differences between these battles are that Zuko and Katara earned their abilities to defeat Azula whereas Aang relies on two deus ex machina and Zuko and Katara leave Azula upset but a pretty physically healthy state whereas Aang spiritually mutilates Ozai by removing his bending

in order for this interpretation to work that Aang v Ozai is a triumph of one ideology over another and Zuko v Azula is not, you have to ignore the massive narrative flaws in the Aang and Ozai fight that do not exist in the Zuko v Azula fight

There is a reason people still argue about whether or not Aang should have killed Ozai but even this person who argues Zuko did the wrong thing by Azula doesn't actually disagree with the text of the show, they still seem to want this agni kai to have happened exactly as it did where Zuko did show that love and support worked better than fear and isolation as he had Katara to tag in to finish the fight as well as other concepts like continuing to improve and learn after failure which eventually gave Zuko stability working better than genius perfectionism which caused Azula to spiral

another major facet this person relied on to argue for this position that Zuko was wrong to accept the agni kai was that Zuko could not see beyond the narrow worldview his father imposed on him through the golden child/scape goat dynamic he put upon Azula and Zuko

but the whole point of the show and having Zuko confront his father and leave to join the Avatar was to show exactly that, Zuko is the one character whose horizons broaden the most over the course of the show and only because Iroh's happens pre-series, it is insane to argue that Zuko cannot see past the abuse he suffered or outside the Fire Nation worldview after he has left the Fire Nation for the gaang

This person also claims that Zuko is so single minded about his goals that he even forgets empathy for others despite in season one somehow managing not to burn off Zhao's face in an agni kai and he even tries to rescue him from the ocean spirit despite fighting him literally the moment before so what character are you talking about because it's not Zuko

and then from this, they claim he cannot understand the tragedy of having to fight his own sister

this part is obviously up to more reader interpretation but you can take Zuko suggesting to Iroh in s2 that he forgive Azula is actually stemming from his genuine desire to not have to fight Azula given how quickly and vehemently Iroh shoots this down and that he does express genuine concern for Azula's fall in the southern raiders before she gets herself to the cliffside

I personally would say between the two of them, Zuko is more aware of the tragedy and genuinely sad about it, he is not portrayed as happy or gleeful when it's over whereas Azula has only been expecting this fight so she can secure her position on the thrown because she's second born and female and outright gloats after she's shot him with lightning

I see Zuko as resigned to this fight and trying to keep Katara safely out of it when he notices that Azula is slipping and takes the agni kai

what is not reader interpretation is to claim Zuko is being unfair and cruel to Azula to accept her agni kai challenge, Azula has always been the aggressor in their relationship and Zuko always the loser until the southern raiders where they have drawn even with each other, and as it has already been pointed out, Azula has recently tried to kill him twice!!

where is Azula's moral obligation to not try to mortally wound or manipulate her older brother? how is she not cruel and unfair for treating him this way and following in the footsteps of their father?

then there's an insane bit where they claim Zuko and Katara have a more simplistic view of morality than Aang who lost his shit on Katara in southern raiders who in the end didn't forgive Yon Rha and also didn't kill him and Zuko was there supporting her for the whole thing for her emotional benefit and closure regarding her mother like he had in his confrontation against Ozai whom he also didn't kill and Aang wasn't involved, Katara even tells him he was wrong

this part is just objectively untrue, Aang has the far more simplistic view on morality 

this person also goes on to a lot of reader interpretation for Azula's motives for bringing Zuko back to the Fire Nation, and I do agree I think that on some level Azula does care for Zuko, where I don't agree is that if the result is still harm for Zuko which is what returning to the Fire Nation was for him as it puts him back under the thumb of their abuser, it's still ultiamtely not good or kind to Zuko

Azula's actions are not made better by presuming she had good intentions born out of care for Zuko

The thing that really got me though was this quote:

"he allows himself to stoop to her level, and in fact only redeems himself through his sacrifice for katara"

again, Azula is the aggressor in their relationship and the one who issues the challenge in this instance

Zuko does not stoop to her level trying to stop her via agni kai because a hug is not gonna work, and it is arguably noble of him to try to protect Katara by accepting the challenge and trying to remove her as a target

But it doesn't work because Azula breaks the agni kai by attacking Katara who is a bystander and not a combatant which is never a level Zuko stoops to, it's a rat move Azula takes when she's put on her back foot and realizes she can't win a fair fight and can't goad Zuko into an emotional outburst

But the worst part is reframing Zuko's sacrifice as redemptive in terms of his relationship to Azula or as if he has done something wrong in accepting the agni kai or while fighting it

He hasn't, the poster argues that Zuko betrayed Azula in leaving the Fire Nation which I think you can argue for, but I do not believe that the show has Azula react as if she has been harmed by this action when she is shown as far more offended by Mai and Ty Lee's betrayal and again seems gleeful to be able to attack Zuko in the boiling rock, southern raiders, and finale and therefore could reasonably be interpreted to have expected this

His redemption isn't towards Azula or anything she represents like Fire Nation imperialism, Ozai's abuse, perfectionism 

It's a heroic sacrifice for Katara as a person he harmed personally in the s2 finale and as a victim of the Fire Nation's war by the Fire Nation's prince 

It's an utter and blatant misread of the show to demonize Zuko to uplift Azula and replace Katara as a victim of Fire Nation imperialism which Azula is straightforwardly not and removes those themes from the Zuko v Azula fight which this person praised in the more flawed Aang v Ozai fight

I am with and agree with anyone claiming Azula is a victim of abuse, she is, it is the direct cause of her breakdown

but it's straight up cognitive dissonance to act as if Zuko has done something grossly wrong in terms of ending the cycle of violence by participating in the agni kai with Azula but Aang v Ozai is a narrative master stroke for pacifism and ending violence when they both use the exact same amount of violence to achieve their ends: man to man combat, and Aang actually delivers the worse punishment to Ozai

and you strip away half of Azula's character if you ignore the real and blatant harm she caused Zuko and the rest of the gaang and try to pretend they are all equally victims of the same man because they are not

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I like thinking about and considering the ways Killer (and his Stages, or possibly due to the existence of his Stages) might’ve struggled to adjust to servitude under Nightmare vs servitude under Chara.

With Chara, their reasons, goals and objectives were more broad and allowed Killer more freedom and autonomy in how he went about fulfilling Chara’s orders and their expectations of him. Chara—at least in Killer’s eyes—seemed to care about things and did the things they did for amusement/entertainment, power and control, curiosity, and companionship.

Thanks to things like Chara’s ability to Reset, consequences don’t really mean much of anything. The only real consequence Killer will ever face is from Chara themself; so he must keep them happy.

Always remain obedient and loyal—make Chara feel loved and appreciated, don’t ever, ever, ever make them feel like Killer doesn’t want to be around them, doesn’t like what they do or say, or is attempting to leave or betray them.

But don’t be too predictable. Don’t let them get bored of him. Always remain some level of unpredictable—but never give Chara a reason to doubt his loyalty.

His existence isn’t really useful to Chara in any way except to fulfill their emotional needs. The only thing they need from him they can’t really do on their own is his company, and being a constant source of entertainment and curiosity.

Killing people, torturing people, exploring every new avenue and possibility? Chara can do that just fine without him. But they don’t want to. All he has to do is ensure they never do.

Easier said than done, but it’s different with Nightmare. Nightmare has a use for him, but he is just one of thousands of Killers—he can be replaced, so he must remain useful.

Consequences are real with Nightmare, and not only just from him. If he isn’t careful, Killer can be captured, killed, or seriously hurt—something Killer might’ve actually struggled to understand and come to terms with at first. If he isn’t useful to Nightmare, then it’s a roll of the dice if he keeps Killer around.

With Chara he wasn’t so replaceable. Chara invested a lot of time and energy into him, he’s the only Sans/Killer in his AU/AT. It would take a lot of time to replace Killer and it won’t even be with another version of himself.

Another thing is killing. We can see in the Stage 4 comic that ST2 refrains from killing unless Nightmare orders him otherwise because the Boss—or Killer’s “friend” as he called him—needs the negativity and can’t get it if the victims are dead.

Unfortunately for them both, Stage 4 didn’t seem to catch that memo. Or if it did, if it truly understands that their situation and the circumstances have changed, it simply doesn’t (or can’t) care because it has remained loyal to Chara’s goals and desires and its “duty” to see them through.

Makes me wonder if Nightmare ever punishes Killer for the things he says or does while in the other Stages? 🤔

Might also make a post about the possible cognitive distortions Killer & his Stages likely all developed about themselves, and their relationship with Chara. Possibly also of Nightmare and the other people that were in the Underground with him and Chara.

[teyamskxawng]

In Heat [I]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Keep reading: Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

The rundown: You seek out Lo'ak, your best friend, in the midst of your first heat cycle. Like the good friend he is, Lo'ak eases you through it.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, language, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 5.5k

A/N: user @teyamsxawng's first fic is about lo'ak??? yeah...i have neteyam fics in the works but this was the first avatar fic i wrote so i'm pushing it out now :) i'm also really scared to post my work so please be kind lol. i have like six chapters of this fic written so far with no clear ending in sight, so expect to see more of this soon.

Your first heat was about to begin, and you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what you heard would be an excruciating experience. You had a rough idea of what your first cycle would entail–discomfort, fatigue, and a touch of humiliation–but little did you know just how much it would affect you. Bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grappled with an intensity you had never anticipated.

As you lay on your sleeping mat in the solitude of your home, you curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to cope with the nearly-unbearable pain. The sensation was comparable to harboring a living, breathing creature within you, its heartbeat sending shockwaves of agony throughout your body.

You imagined it being a tiny drummer, vigorously banging its drums in tune with your torment. Hopelessly, you squeezed your legs together, desperate for even the slightest relief amidst the immense pressure emanating from your core. Never in your wildest dreams had you expected your heat to be this intense and all-consuming, turning your routine upside down and leaving you at the mercy of your body.

Amid your futile attempts at alleviating the mounting pressure with your own untrained fingers, you realized that you had no clue what the fuck you were doing. Your anxiety levels skyrocketed as you envisioned the possibility of exacerbating your situation, fearing that you'd end up hurting yourself even more if you tried anything on your own.

With every passing moment, your mind betrayed you–compulsively circling back to the one individual you were trying to distract yourself from: Lo'ak, your best friend.

Tackling that emotional behemoth would be a mental expedition akin to scaling the Hallelujah Mountains with your eyes closed, and you lacked the cognitive stamina for such an endeavor. Regardless, the stubborn recollection of the boy proved to be relentless, a mental scratch that demanded to be itched. Memories of his ability to make your world right again resurfaced, and you couldn't help but contemplate that maybe he was the secret recipe to your current dilemma.

You couldn't deny that you were on the verge of making a catastrophically bad decision, one that would go down in your personal history book as an all-time low. However, it was as if your body had mustered all of its strength to overpower your subconscious completely, that annoying little voice of reason, and take matters into its own hands.

Before you knew it, you were on your two feet, feeling slightly wobbly but determined, run-walking out of your tent like a woman on a mission, seeking out your best friend.

You didn't even have to engage in any sort of exuberating journey to figure out where he'd be. It was as if your very soul could smell him.

His clean, robust musk seamlessly mingled with the sweet spice of his cleansing balm, creating an alluring fusion that your senses simply couldn't resist. The aroma captivated you entirely, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, your feet carrying your body toward the source of sensory delight.

Venturing into the forest, you kept a discreet distance from Hometree and the rest of the clanspeople, desiring solitude, with the only exception being Lo'ak.

You stumbled upon him near a shallow creek, his posture keen and attentive as he scanned the water for signs of fish darting through its depths. His back was a mesmerizing sight, his dark blue stripes tracing the outline of his sinewy, lean muscles.

So alluring was the view that you clenched your fists tightly, restraining yourself from fulfilling the irresistible urge to reach out and touch him. It was as if every fiber of your being demanded that you do so, and it took every ounce of your willpower to resist.

Against your will, an entirely embarrassing sound that was half sigh and half whimper escaped your lips. The unexpected noise caused Lo'ak to jolt in surprise, his hand swiftly reaching for the dagger at his hip as he whirled around to confront the sudden intruder.

In a fleeting moment, the anxiety etched on Lo'ak's face dissolved, replaced by mild amusement as he realized it was none other than his best friend. However, it didn't take long for his concern to resurface as he took in your bewildering appearance.

It was clear you were utterly discombobulated, a far cry from your usual poised demeanor. Your cheeks were flushed a deep purple. Your usually sleek, well-groomed hair had gone rogue, appearing as though you had either been tossing and turning in a fitful slumber or wrestling with a goddamn palulukan.

Adding to your unkempt appearance, your chest was drenched in sweat, heaving rapidly up and down as though you had just sprinted to your location yet still found yourself gasping for air. But what really captured Lo'ak's undivided attention, and sent a shiver down his spine, were your eyes.

Gone were the golden irises he knew so well, replaced by a dark hazel hue that was almost brown. Even more disconcerting, your pupils were dilated to an unnerving degree, appearing as wide as your irises themselves.

Without hesitation, Lo'ak rushed to your side and extended his arm to grasp your forearm gently. "y/n, are you good? You look kinda…"

He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence. The only way he could describe you was looking completely disheveled. And the sound you made earlier was definitely not something he was going to dwell on.

You blinked at Lo'ak's hand on your arm. You heaved several deep breaths, attempting to compose yourself. Opening and closing your mouth, it was evident you were wrestling with the right words to convey your thoughts. Eventually, you shook your head in defeat and covered your face with your hands, groaning loudly.

Witnessing this only served to heighten Lo'ak's concern. He furrowed his brow as he studied your condition. "y/n?" he inquired nervously, imagining the worst-case scenario.

Still shielding your face with your hands, you managed to mumble something that might've resembled a sentence. Lo'ak couldn't help but let out a snicker that briefly reverberated through his body. Regaining his composure, he tilted his head in confusion, entirely unable to decipher your garbled words. He admitted honestly, "I have no idea what you're trying to say."

You sighed in defeat. The close proximity of Lo'ak, combined with the overwhelming frustration you felt between your legs, completely overshadowed any embarrassment you may have otherwise experienced.

"I said," you started, your dark eyes fixated on Lo'ak's with an intensity he couldn't ignore, "I just started my first heat cycle." Lo'ak's eyes went wide with shock at your confession.

Of all the things he'd imagined you saying, this possibility ranked the lowest on his mental list. He found himself at a loss for words and unsure what to think or do, especially as he involuntarily pictured you in a state of undeniable sexual frustration.

In response, all he could muster was a weak "oh," his voice faltering mid-syllable, making the situation all the more awkward.

You emitted what sounded like a pained groan, your emotions threatening to overflow into tears. In a vulnerable gesture, you allowed your forehead to rest against Lo'ak's shoulder. He couldn't help but tense up in response to your warm body pressed against him.

"Lo'ak," you whispered through clenched teeth, "it hurts so bad."

Lo'ak found himself struggling for air in the tense situation. With a shaky nod, he attempted to comprehend your words and determine the next course of action. As your best friend, it shouldn't have been a shock that you sought him out during your time of need, especially when that need was your first heat cycle.

Lo'ak hesitantly cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the uneasy feeling that had taken up residence there. "Uh. Are you gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Blinking repeatedly, your eyelashes tickled Lo'ak's shoulder, causing him to shudder. Your voice was filled with uncertainty as you admitted, "I don't know. I can't… I'm scared I'll make it worse or hurt myself or…I don't know. I just need—"

Your grip on Lo'ak's arms tightened, your words trailing off. The message was clear—you had no idea what to do, and you were scared, turning to Lo'ak for solace and support.

In that instant, Lo'ak found himself filled with a sudden surge of empathy and understanding. With newfound determination, he placed his hands on your back, extending his fingers across your skin as he gently rubbed up and down.

Upon feeling his reassuring touch, you exhaled sharply, adjusting your position to bury your face in the crook of his neck. For a while, you two simply remained like that, sharing gentle caresses and the soothing sound of your uneven breaths.

At last, you found your voice amidst the silence. "Lo'ak," you whispered, your tone holding a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

It was barely audible, a faint whisper in the wind, yet Lo'ak caught it without any trouble, and he could undeniably sense the subtle movement of your body, inching even closer to his.

At first, Lo'ak couldn't tell whether you had done that deliberately, but then you shifted your weight further down onto his leg, nestling his left thigh snugly between your own two legs, ever so gently grazing yourself on his taut muscle.

Lo'ak had to consciously remind himself to breathe, to inhale and exhale, because there was no way that you could possibly be getting yourself off on his leg. Shamelessly. Completely unapologetic.

The physical contact must not have been enough to provide you any relief, as evidenced by the fragmented cry of aggravation that reverberated against his neck. "It's not…."

Lo'ak fully understood your sentiment, nodding his head empathetically at your frustration. "No, yeah. Here, let's just—"

He pulled away from you, or rather, he gently moved you away from himself, extracting a barely audible whimper from you. He held you delicately by the shoulders, keeping you at arm's length, and his heart plummeted at the sight of the tears that meandered down from your glassy eyes.

You were hurting and in distress, and witnessing it tore Lo'ak apart. In a flurry of motion, he reached out to cradle your face, tenderly wiping away each persistent tear with the pads of his thumbs.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration as you tried to keep your composure. His gentle touch drove you to the brink of madness. You loathed feeling so exposed and powerless, particularly in Lo'ak's presence. You took solace in the fact that, at the very least, he wasn't poking fun at you or rubbing salt in your emotional wounds. No, he was actually being kind.

In a soft voice, Lo'ak said, "C'mere," as he retreated towards an enormous tree trunk. Gently placing a hand on your wrist, he coaxed you to follow him. And in your current state of emotional upheaval, you found yourself unable to resist his pull.

Lo'ak found a comfortable spot on the forest floor, casually sitting against a tree trunk with his legs stretched out before him.

"You can sit if you want…it might be easier," he offered, attempting to hide the fact that his own face was now flushed with what could only be described as a matching shade of purple to yours. The tension of the situation was not lost on either of you.

He didn't need to tell you twice. In a move that bordered on comedic desperation, you practically threw yourself onto Lo'ak's lap, settling on his left thigh with a soft sigh. The newly adjusted position felt infinitely better than before. The direct contact sent shivers down your spine, and the pressure on your core momentarily eased as you clamped your thighs around his leg.

You were desperately chasing that tantalizing feeling, and you could hardly bring yourself to feel a hint of shame as your body instinctively pursued it.

With an almost artful finesse, you adjusted your hips to attain the perfect level of pressure on your front. You were acutely aware of the dampness that began to form on Lo'ak's thigh due to your wetness, and even though a flicker of internal mortification plagued you, you simply couldn't find it in yourself to halt your actions.

With each move, you felt Lo'ak's leg flex beneath you, inadvertently applying exquisite pressure against the sensitive nub at your front.

The sensation was nothing short of divine. It was so overwhelming that you couldn't help but let out a moan of pleasure—a sound foreign to your ears but not significant enough to make you care.

Lo'ak, on the flip side, was experiencing an entirely different world.

His senses were fully alert, allowing him to take in every sight, sound, and feeling that unfolded before him in real-time. The whole situation played out like the most incredible, wet, thrillingly vivid dream he had ever encountered.

Desperate to maintain his composure, Lo'ak clenched his hands tightly against his sides, so much so that his knuckles turned a few shades paler than their initial blue.

As he attempted to stay as collected as possible, he couldn't help but wish for some magic remedy to sort out his persistent erection. It pressed uncomfortably against his loincloth at an awkward angle as if it were mocking him.

You unexpectedly interrupted his chain of thought, your voice sounding broken and desperate.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out, your eyes clenched shut as your mouth fell open, unable to suppress another moan. "just feels so good."

Lo'ak observed you with the utmost attention, his heart clenching tightly within his chest. In a barely audible volume, he softly reassured you, "Don't apologize; it's okay. Do what you have to do."

He was confident that, despite his subdued tone, you could hear and understand him fully.

You inhaled deeply, your breath quavering as you attempted to calm yourself down. Your tongue swept across your parched lips, and you swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat. You found yourself unable to respond, yet continued experimenting with different rhythms and levels of pressure, determined to find the optimal approach to take yourself to the verge of ecstasy.

As your quest yielded fruitful results, you began better understanding your body.

With every sway of your hips, you experienced a surge of delight that coursed through your entire being. Each motion brushed your most sensitive areas against Lo'ak's narrow, muscular frame, sending chills up your spine.

You could feel your breaths growing shallower and more rapid, the warmth of your breath caressing Lo'ak's skin as your eyes remained tightly shut in indulgence. You allowed yourself to fully enjoy the moment, unabashedly taking advantage of his presence for the sake of your own pleasure.

As you continued, the tension within your abdomen stretched further and further, like a taut rubber band about to snap. Beads of sweat formed on your glistening skin, and your panting filled the air.

The overwhelming sense of pleasure threatened to pour forth, and your toes instinctively curled in response to the inevitable release building inside you. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a delicate mewl while elevating the speed of your motions.

You uttered desperately, "I'm so close, Lo'…fuck. It's so much." Your voice, filled with raw emotion, dripped with anticipation.

As that blissful sensation intensified within your lower abdomen, teetering on the edge of release, Lo'ak took a deep swallow. His voice was low and throaty as he softly whispered to you, providing reassurance and encouragement, "You're okay, y/n. Just let yourself go."

His words were just what you needed, a string of curses falling from your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over and your walls clench around nothing. Your face softened with pleasure as you let out a shaky exhale, still sliding your now completely oversensitive clit across his thigh.

With a whispered sigh, Lo'ak reassured you, "Just like that, I've got you. It's okay." His hands tenderly left their perch at his sides, returning to the relative safety of your back. Gently, he stroked your soft skin, providing comfort as you descended from the peak of your intense high.

His soothing words and embrace gave you warmth from within, a sensation of security wrapping you up like a comforting blanket. You couldn't deny the feelings that Lo'ak's presence evoked in you.

At this point, one would presume you had suffered enough self-inflicted humiliation for a single day, but no.

As quickly as you bid farewell to your recent high, an insistent, throbbing ache woke anew within your deepest core. The previous experience proved a mere prequel, a teasing overture for the reverberating need you knew you just could not ignore. Your desires for touch and release cried out incessantly; Lo'ak was nestled beneath you all the while, painfully tempting—so close yet so frustratingly far.

With a gulp of determination and an unceremonious discard of any remaining semblance of pride, you peeled your eyes open, greeted by the half-lidded, entranced gaze of Lo'ak. His voice laced with curiosity; he inquired, "Is it better?"

You knitted your forehead together, desperately attempting to articulate the whirlwind of feelings that surged through you. It was a monumental challenge, one that left your mind racing with a relentless barrage of risqué thoughts involving what you desired Lo'ak to do to you.

Sighing, you muttered to yourself, "How is it still there?"

Lo'ak, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power to grasp the situation and figure out how he could alleviate your distress.

Puzzled, he inquired, "How is what still where…?"

In response, you actually hissed at Lo'ak, baring your fangs and all, unable to contain your frustration. He was so stupid. So warm and strong and pretty and stupid. You thought this as your eyes roamed over his strong, warm, and undeniably attractive figure.

"The urge, skxawng!" Your body involuntarily responded by undulating your hips against Lo'ak's leg. His eyes drifted downward for a moment to follow your movements before refocusing back on your face with concern.

You continued to explain, "The urge to be touched, I don't know why it's still there."

Suddenly, you glanced down at your own body, only then becoming aware of the rhythmic motion you had been unconsciously performing. In an effort to regain some semblance of control, you dug your fingernails into your thighs, willing your body to cease its movements.

Lo'ak grunted at the sight of you holding yourself back, the grip on your legs tight enough to cut off your circulation. Unable to stand it anymore, he pried your slender fingers from your thigh and gently took your hands in his own, much larger ones.

He tried to make eye contact with you but soon realized you were lost in your thoughts, staring intently at your lap. With a bit of patience, he finally managed to catch your dark irises when you fleetingly looked up at him.

"Okay," he began earnestly, "just tell me what I can do to make it better."

Though a bit hesitant, his voice was full of sincerity and determination.

Much to his surprise, your eyes widened even further. Shock, hope, and a dash of something else filled them all at once. He was really giving you complete freedom, entrusting himself to you to alleviate the pain of your heat.

With that, you decided to take the leap. "I want you to use your hands on me," you murmured, bringing yours and Lo'ak's intertwined hands toward your abdomen.

You watched Lo'ak's facial expressions with keen interest as you hesitantly guided his fingers to your most intimate spot. Despite the thin fabric separating his digits from your flesh, you couldn't suppress the breathy moan that escaped your lips.

"Right there," you continued, your voice trembling as you released your grasp on Lo'ak's hand. To your immense relief, his fingers didn't retreat. Instead, they maintained gentle pressure, sending pleasant tingles throughout your lower body.

Suddenly, it was as if Lo'ak had awakened from a daze. He looked up at you with curious desire evident in his eyes but still managed to convey his genuine concern.

"You're sure?" he inquired with the utmost caution, seeking all the verbal affirmation he could possibly get. No matter the circumstance, he would never let himself exploit you in such a vulnerable state.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at Lo'ak's search for reassurance.

You couldn't help but think that Lo'ak asking for consent would be an irresistible turn-on under any other circumstance. However, given your state of urgent need, you craved immediate physical touch and control, no questions asked.

In a display of impatience, you threw your head back in exasperation, your own hand carelessly venturing beneath your loincloth to explore the fiery depths of your core.

"Please," you managed to utter, despite never being one to steep as low as begging. It was embarrassing, but that was genuinely the only word that managed to take shape in your mind amidst your overwhelming desires.

Lo'ak, finally sensing the critical nature of the situation, offered a hastened nod to the increasingly desperate girl before him. His heart pounded with exhilaration as his trembling fingers made short work of loosening your loincloth.

Captivated, his eyes were drawn to the now fully exposed treasure that lay between your legs.

Despite the circumstances, an undeniable blush spread across your cheeks, leaving you feeling more exposed than ever before.

With utmost care, Lo'ak gently guided your legs further apart. His fingers, like tendrils of affection, traced a delicate path around the contour of your knee and then traveled along the length of your inner thigh. Their journey didn't end until they arrived at your already glistening core. A single, adventurous fingertip glided gingerly along your lips before hesitantly prodding at your entrance. Your spine stiffened involuntarily, a sharp gasp emitting from your lips.

"Shit. Does it hurt?" Taken aback, Lo'ak's eyes widened as he witnessed your intense reaction—his reassuring self-assurance evaporated.

He immediately interpreted your pinched expression as a sign of hurt or discomfort. Alarmed, he became a living statue, daring not to move a muscle, his finger maintaining its intrusion of the slightest degree.

With an air of bewilderment, you stammered, "No, it's just so different," struggling to put your experience into words.

"Is that a bad thing?" His panicked gaze searched for your eyes.

Trying your best to control your emotions, you responded with a bit of a quiver in your voice, "No. No, it's really good. Keep going."

Lo'ak let out a shaky, relieved exhale, thankful that he wasn't causing you any discomfort. He proceeded with a short nod, allowing his finger to submerge into your eager embrace.

Your jaw went slack, eyes flickering in surprise, head tilting back as you reacted to the new, fuller sensation. The taut muscles in your abdomen quivered as you fought the urge to press yourself against him even further.

Lo'ak maintained a leisurely rhythm with his finger. A tender whimper escaped your lips as you adjusted to the near-overwhelming sensation, waves of undiscovered pleasure enveloping you, easing the fiery longing at your very core.

"Shh, you're okay, y/n," Lo'ak murmured softly, the hushed vibration of his words coursing through your entire body. A warmth flooded your face, and you quickly looked down, suddenly feeling feverish.

Seemingly unfazed, a second of Lo'ak's fingers joined the first, proceeding at their unhurried speed while your own hands struggled to find something to occupy, something to keep you grounded in reality.

You reached a hand out to grasp his shoulder–your grip probably bordering on painful–while your other hand covered your mouth in a hopeless bid to stifle the embarrassing sounds you kept unconsciously making.

"Oh, fuck." You mumbled, your hips twitching as his thumb grazed over your swollen clit.

An overwhelming wave of delight crashed over you, unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It built in the pit of your stomach, erupting into a continuous stream of moans that escaped from your lips while Lo'ak performed the entrancing move once again.

With one last deft stroke of Lo'ak's thumb, you reached the peak of your sensations. All you could do was mumble out an embarrassed string of apologies as you shattered around him, legs shaking, your entire body trembling from the sheer intensity of your second climax.

"No, you don't have to apologize. That's it, there you go." Lo'ak whispered above you, his hands securely gripping your hips. He watched you in a mixture of amazement and disbelief as you came undone on top of him.

In the aftermath of your unforeseen encounter, you and Lo'ak found yourselves sitting together in a tense, stunned silence.

Lo'ak's fingers remain deeply lodged inside your warmth, a vivid reminder of the unexpected turn your meeting had taken. While slowly regaining composure, Lo'ak's thoughts naturally drifted to his own throbbing predicament. He fervently attempted to push those intrusive musings aside, focusing all his mental strength (what little of it he had left) on anything else that might've provided a reprieve.

To distance his mind further from his own problem, Lo'ak mustered up the courage to break the otherwise heavy silence.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he managed to ask, "How about now? Does, uh. Does it feel better?" His question, though well-intentioned, seemed to hang in the air, almost as if it were searching for a suitable landing spot.

Still catching your breath, you eventually acknowledged Lo'ak's efforts. With a meek nod and a quiet, "Yeah. Thank you," you did your part in attempting to lift the air of awkwardness that had befallen the two of you.

In response, Lo'ak merely mimicked your nod, his gaze drifting back to the delicate situation of his hand's continued connection with your lower half. A determined expression graced his face as he gently gripped your waist, carefully guiding his fingers free from your tight warmth.

The ridiculously obscene squelch of the movement caused you both to flush, despite everything you'd just done with each other.

As his fingers slid away, moistened with your slick, you were overtaken by a deep, almost primal desire to capture every last trace of yourself from his fingers. You felt absolutely unhinged.

Lo'ak, completely unaware of your internal struggle, stared at his own hand, held up between the two of you. His eyes widened in disbelief and amazement as he realized the impact his touch had on you.

Unsure of how to handle his newfound emotion, Lo'ak stealthily tried to wipe his hand on the lush grass beneath him, but your sudden vice-like grip stopped him.

Your eyes blazed with a mixture of desperation and wild abandon, yet you couldn't bring yourself to explain your overwhelming urge.

Instead, you gently guided Lo'ak's hand close to your face and took two of his soaked digits into your mouth. A soft moan escaped your lips as you savored the taste, feeling the fullness of his fingers as they filled your mouth.

You hastened your efforts in cleaning them, the graceful movement of your lips against his skin bringing you a sense of intense warmth and satisfaction as the previously overwhelming sensations within you began to subside. Finally, you released his hand, but not before planting a series of tender licks across his fingertips, ensuring that nothing remained.

As you finally met Lo'ak's eyes, you became painfully aware of the fact that you had just come on your best friend (twice).

Not only that, but you had to go and make matters even worse by practically worshiping his fingers with your mouth. The heat in your cheeks intensified as you gingerly placed Lo'ak's hand back in his lap.

With a desperate need to refocus your attention, you quickly averted your eyes from the boy to avoid being tempted by any further impulsive behavior. You busied your fingers with the painstaking task of reattaching your undone loincloth, double knotting the ties as if that would erase the memory of your exposed lower half from Lo'ak's mind.

Managing only to utter a brief "Sorry," you could sense the tension in the air. It was almost palpable.

Lo'ak, however, responded with a calming and reassuring deep voice, "You don't have to apologize."

You snorted inwardly at the thought that that was at least the third time he had said some variation of those very words to you in the last ten minutes alone.

You offered a subtle nod, unable to bring yourself to look at, speak to, or even touch your friend at that moment.

In a sudden, jerky movement, you disentangled yourself from his leg. You planted yourself on the forest floor, sitting against the same tree trunk that supported Lo'ak.

You couldn't help but glance back at his thigh, noticing the glistening evidence of your prior proximity. Your heart must have stopped beating for a good few seconds. You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally chanting a string of curses in a bid to cope with the irrepressible embarrassment that swept through your body.

The tense silence that ensued felt like an eternity, each moment stretching out painfully while the muted sounds of the Pandoran forest hummed in the background. Your mind raced, desperately trying to come up with an escape plan.

You really, really needed to leave. Like, yesterday. But you were still firmly rooted in your spot, too terrified to move even a muscle.

Then, without warning, the quiet was shattered by the violent rustling of leaves nearby. As if summoned by your wishful thinking, Neteyam appeared through the greenery. He wore an exasperated expression upon seeing you and his brother sitting together against the tree.

"Lo'ak! Dad sent you to fetch a single fish thirty minutes ago! What are you doing?!"

Neteyam's patience was wearing thin as he grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him to his feet, his eyes probing for a reasonable explanation.

"Shit, bro. I'm sorry! I was fishing, I swear. But then I ran into y/n, and…" Lo'ak's voice trailed off, his eyes darting toward you as he recalled the events that transpired during your brief encounter. "…she just needed my help for a minute. It was really important."

Neteyam exhaled loudly in frustration, clearly annoyed at his brother's excuse. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his composure, and then fixed his glare upon Lo'ak, followed by you.

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized you both, sporting matching blushes and attempting to maintain nonchalant expressions. Neteyam knew you two all too well; you were always getting into some kind of mischief together.

But today, he decided, he could spare you the grilling session. With an exaggerated shake of his head, he urged Lo'ak toward the direction of the creek, giving the back of his brother's head a not-so-gentle nudge as he passed by.

"A single fish," Neteyam mumbled, running a hand over his braids in disbelief as he glared at his brother.

You sensed that your chance for a getaway had finally arrived–it was now or never.

Your muscles tensed, eager to lengthen the gap between yourself and Lo'ak (or any other living being within your vicinity, for that matter). You sprung to your feet and hastily ran your fingers through your tousled hair, attempting to tame its disarray. You smoothed your top and made sure that your loincloth was properly adjusted.

"I should get going," you stammered, trying to swallow your nervousness. "I have some…um…chores I need to finish."

Both boys turned their attention toward you, with Neteyam giving you an amicable nod while donning a warm smile. Lo'ak, for his part, offered you a tender smile of his own, causing you to stifle the shy grin that threatened to conquer your entire countenance.

As you stood there, poised for your great escape, you were reminded of the delicacy and reassurance that radiated from Lo'ak just a few minutes prior.

Lo'ak, typically the embodiment of immaturity—a foolhardy best friend in the purest sense—managed to make your heart flutter with his tender warmth, nurturing you through your dire ordeal. He took care of you, offered praises and soothing words, and fuck. You wanted it again and again.

Abruptly, you snapped out of your daydream, realizing you were meandering down a dangerous tangent. You shook your head, as though physically trying to jolt your mind back into reality.

"Thanks, Lo'ak," you managed gratefully, making eye contact with him for just a bit longer than was probably necessary. "I mean it. For helping me."

Lo'ak, seemingly caught off-guard by your intense gaze, replied with a faint but earnest, "Course."

All the while, Neteyam couldn't help but furrow his brows at your peculiar exchange, very much aware of the odd dynamic between you two.

Sensing the need to move forward, Lo'ak immediately added, "Let me know if I can help you again."

Blushing at the implication, you nodded your head vigorously, fully aware that a similar scenario might very well arise in the future.

You offered a hasty wave to the two brothers before you spun around and embarked on your journey back to your home, navigating the wild landscape, distractedly ducking under low-hanging branches and batting away intrusive leaves.

There was no way you were making it through your first heat cycle alive.

Keep reading: Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

[writin-with-the-blues]

can you please write more of the blu medic x red mercs but the rest of red team finds out?? Like the red merc walks into base and the rest of the team is like "um hey what the HELL you have a crush on a BLU!?!?!?" (If you can't do this scenario for all the mercs can you do it for pyro, engineer, and scout please) thank you!!! Sorry If this request is alot.

Oh absolutely I can do this! Sorry if updates have been slow, finals has been killing me and this seemed the easiest to post. (I feel like I am always writing Pyro wrong LMAO).

OG Post Here

Right person, Wrong side

Pyro, Engineer, and Scout x Male!Blue Medic! Reader (Romantic)

Pyro:

They are probably the most interesting when it comes to you.

They tried to talk about you to the rest of the Mercenaries actually. However, since most of them can’t here them, they brush it off as utter nonsense. Except for one particular person.

Miss Pauling.

It was over a phone call, since pyro was in their room, they didn’t feel the need to put on a mask. It had to do with a contract killing you in particular and they rejected it. Miss Pauling inquired further about it, she was simply told, “Oh they didn’t tell you? I love him.”

“You can fall in love?”

Okay, ow, that hurt. But that one conversation with Miss Pauling somehow got spread around the entirety of Red Team. Though, it isn’t really a case of, ‘They are in love with blue team’ but a case of, ‘They can love?!’

Overall, it went alright. Though it did show how people felt about their cognitive abilities.

Engineer:

Ah yes, Dell, the man with more PHD’s than fingers of the Mercs have after a fight. He got caught because of an invention.

I am a firm believer that Dell’s love languages are Gift Giving and Acts of Service. He adores the moments when you just look so happy and excited, so keeping the stressful moments to a minimum with his inventions or hell just giving you a cup of coffee is something he thinks about a little too much.

So when he finds out that your medigun isn’t working as well as it should be, he immediately gets to solutions for you. It wasn’t like you asked though, since you didn’t even know something was wrong with your medigun in the first place but the nozzle doesn’t have the same range as it used to.

Though, his teams medic assumed it was for him until the very quick realization that it did absolutely nothing for his medigun. Which immediately was brought with accusations of being a spy and betraying the team.

To tell you it was ugly would be an understatement. To the point where his only defense is that he loved you. So he just simply said that. Did it resolve his issues with spy accusations? Yes. But it created a whole new problem.

Now there’s a bit of pressure from the rest of the team to just, ‘Snap out of it’ but he doesn’t. As much as he lies through his teeth, and as much as he tries to ignore it, he can’t. I mean, he’s a full grown man dammit, who cares?

Scout:

If you were to ask me how he even gotten himself in this situation, I’d say the many doodles he has of you.

He has a somewhat (very) crass way of expressing his feelings when using his sketchbook. Everything he feels about you just drawn out, kissing, hugging, other things a 20 year old with art abilities draws.

The first person to find these sketches of you is Spy. His first thoughts follow the beat of, ‘This is really good anatomy.’ To ‘Is that the enemy medic?’

Spy tried to use it as leverage against Scout. Once Scout realized what had happened, he almost immediately decided to tell every red merc on his own terms.

It’s the most Jeremy thing he could do, but I genuinely believe he’d do it. Though it goes as well as you expect it to. Which is not great.

To sum it up, there were so many argument over it. Whether it is justified or not, but most were in agreement that they knew they can’t change his feelings about you.

Masterlist

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

know there people who write abilities fluctuate change… so type “normal” one time & type “weird” “grammar not right” another time not automatic suspicious… but they do it because own internal reasons. fluctuate brain fog, negative symptoms, etc.

but… get suspicious annoyed uneasy when… someone write all fine literal everywhere else except when talk to me, who nonverbal + cognitive communication disabilities who just write like this. or except when called out, hey, you not being friendly to person w visible communication & cognitive disabilities, n suddenly conveniently “oh have communication disability too” & start type weird, as if that cancel out what they did.

like. conveniently time n place.

maybe just me be sensitive on guard about this because people have claimed stuff like this to me to be “adjacent” to me in past, people mocking me type weird, people copy how write to mock me, etc., but really not make me feel great