#holding those maybe contradictory ideas in your head

[commsroom]

there's an interesting statement being made about identity if you accept all of the wolf 359 characters are equally themselves as of the finale: eiffel is form without memory; hera is memory without form; lovelace is both, but without continuity of experience; minkowski is both with continuity - and she's still not the same person that goddard recruited. if we're never the same people we were, but we're always ourselves, then the only way the self can be defined is through its own assertion - and maybe it can be argued that "my name is-" (and later, being able to say "my name is hera" reintroducing herself to pryce) and "i am captain isabel lovelace. no matter how hard you try, you are not taking that away from me" and "without me, who are you?" / "renée minkowski, and that is more than enough to kick your ass" are all the set up for (and part of the answer to) "am i still doug eiffel?"

[shut-up-danny-kun]

I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.

Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?

I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...

Or...is he?

Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.

Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.

Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.

“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”

To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.

So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.

It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.

[aboutescapism]

enjoy the silence II | ao’nung.

ao’nung x fem!sully!reader

previous part | part two | next part

synopsis: Ao’nung’s words had hurt you, but his contradictory actions hurt you more. You realize your mistake in your idea that you’d be a good match, but it may have already cost you your life.

genre: angst.

contains: more pining from reader, mixed signals, ilu riding. mentions of near death experience, suffocation, overwhelming feelings. ao’nung literally being so confusing. requited love after all?

a/n: welcome to the second installment of enjoy the silence! the first part ended up being posted two days earlier than expected (the last time i ever schedule a post) and still needed scenes added but, i’m so happy you all loved it so much anyway! i tagged everyone who asked to be tagged. thank you guys so much for the support!

The morning after Ao’nung had said those things to you by the shore came quickly. After he had stalked off, you went back to your mauri, purposely taking the long way home to be with your thoughts for a while. Did you read his signs wrong? Was he even giving any signs to begin with? Or had you been clouded with the illusion of being a perfect pair that you hadn’t even considered how Ao’nung felt?

Your siblings could feel your slight sadness when you arrived back, but no one had questioned it much, save for a few, “Feelin’ alright?”s from your father. Moving to Awa’atlu had affected everyone, they had felt the overwhelming ache of homesickness every once in a while, they understood you were feeling down. If only they knew, your once source of happiness was now your source of distress.

Despite that, you weren’t angry with Ao’nung. Not at all. You understood where he was coming from completely. As the future Olo’eyktan, he needs to protect his people. That means protecting them from humans, and your family had brought that threat. If anything, it’s natural for him to be hostile towards you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. But you were resilient.

You just had to prove to him you were more than what was running in your veins. 

Today, like the past few days, was filled with training. Ao’nung was paired up with you, again. You felt uneasy at first, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable with you. He gave Tsireya a look, almost begging to switch partners. She only rolled her eyes and smiled when you reached them.

He must’ve told her how he felt about you, or maybe she had heard his harsh words to you last night. Either way, you’re sure she smacked him upside the head for upsetting you. Tsireya took a genuine liking to you, and she may or may not have been doubling her efforts in winning over the Sully family due to her liking of Lo'ak. 

Once all together in the shallow water, Ao’nung began to call to the Ilu. Almost immediately, they swam up and circled him. It was mesmerizing, watching him call them so effortlessly, how they swam up to him so fondly. 

“These are Ilu. If you want to live here, you have to ride,” he explained. You were excited, you had little trouble claiming your Ikran, surely this is no different.

Ao’nung faced you, pointing, “the demon girl will go first.” Your eyes widened, suddenly intimidated. But, you had to show him you weren’t just some forest girl with five fingers.  

You swam up to an Ilu, petting it. It clicked at you, nudging you affectionately. This creature was so gentle, so sweet to you. Your Ikran was nothing but the opposite when you claimed it; squawking loudly, attempting to throw you over the edge of the cliff. You gained some confidence from its gentle demeanor, and climbed on top. Tsireya and Ao’nung swam up beside to keep the Ilu still and allow you to make a bond. 

“Make the bond, and hold here,” Tsireya gestured to the handle. You pulled your queue from behind you, bare, pink nerves ready to make a connection. You took a deep breath and made the bond with your Ilu. Suddenly, you felt its being as whole, as a part of you. You felt its breath, its fins, how strong it is, how eager it was to swim with a new driver. 

“Breathe from here, remember. Hold your breath when you dive, the Ilu is fast. But it will know when to go back up for air. It feels you, you feel it,” Ao’nung placed his hand on your upper stomach like he had done when training your breathing. You gasped quietly, not expecting such a gentle, forward gesture from him. Especially not after last night’s exchange.

Your golden eyes made contact with his, your brows furrowed in confusion. Hadn’t he just reprimanded you for just merely existing? Now he was touching you so delicately, like you’d break from too much pressure. Had last night really just been a bit? Just a teasing joke? Maybe he didn’t hate you after all? 

His mixed signals made you feel fuzzy, your brain suddenly so confused. The Ilu felt it, too, and began to thrash around from the uncertainty you felt at Ao’nung’s touch. He removed his hand from you, much to your disappointment, to calm the Ilu back down to stillness. 

You shook the thoughts about him out of your head, you had to focus. “I’m ready, I can do this.”

“Start slow, don’t hurt yourself,” Ao’nung’s tone was firm, but worried. Perhaps he did care for you.

You took another deep breath, and went off into the water. 

You started slow, like Ao’nung instructed, getting comfortable with being pulled through the water by the Ilu. Gradually you sped up, gliding through the reef with ease.

The rush of adrenaline that flowed through you only made you more and more confident. The beautiful reef had you hypnotized, you felt so much while being wished around the glowy underwater plants and animals. The swirl of colors dizzied you in only the best way, leaving you in awe.

You reached a hand out to brush against the foliage as you flew past it. It was so soft to the touch. It only reminded you of Ao'nung's.

What he said greatly hurt you, joke or not. The contrast of his words then and now was so confounding to you. And with the thought of him back in your mind, you became tense, now losing your focus. You lost your balance on the Ilu along with your secure grip.

This thrashed you around some, but you could regain your composure. Unfortunately, it was proving difficult.

You underestimated the force of the water. Your grip on the Ilu faltered more with the ever growing speed. You couldn’t keep up, the pressure was too much. The rush of the water was now pulling you back, straining your limbs. Dreadful fear filled you when you realized, inevitably you’d be knocked off and sent into waters you weren’t familiar with at all, with animals and creatures you’d never interacted with. 

You had underestimated the difficulty of riding an Ilu, just as you had underestimated Ao’nung’s impact on you. It was all too similar.

At first, you’d been confident and blinded by excitement. Excitement of meeting your seemingly perfect match. Excitement of trying something new. You weren’t careful, not assessing the situation completely before you dived in headfirst.

You didn’t take Ao’nung himself into account, how powerful his actions, his feelings are just as the water’s force is on your body now. Oh, how your impulsivity ricocheted back to you, but ten times stronger. Whiplash from Ao’nung’s mixed signals and the rush of the current you’re trying to push through. 

You had to let go, you realized. 

You had to let go of the Ilu before you hurt yourself. You had to let go of your delusional idea of yours and Ao’nung’s relationship before it drastically hurts you. Or him. You couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, in any way.

He didn’t feel the same, he never would. Spiraling down this idea would only complicate things more. You needed to let go.

With that, you took your grip off the Ilu, ripped from the back of the creature and sent off into the water. 

Your breath had begun to ran out and you were so far down, clouded with thoughts of needing air and needing Ao'nung. Neither would come to you soon enough.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of azure eyes caught sight of your descending figure before it was too late. He couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt. The thought alone was what was driving him to swim to you faster.

Ao'nung needed you, too.

taglist! @maxiel4life @aonungmyaddiction @awkward-halfhug @bratsukisworld @bigdikzaddy @iheartamajiki @adaiasafira @holysaladapricothero

[yuseirra]

Kamiki's mentality- an analysis(post 162)

Hello! :) I'm back..with an analysis of what I think this character must have been feeling, I always need to come up with some type of interpretations to make fan work... some sort of base I could work with. The new chapter was really confusing, right? I've been struggling to make do of it since I encountered it, here's what I make of it, until the new chapter would drop and I get new information.

If you're fond of this character.. or want to see just what the heck he may be feeling, and what's going on in his head, I can't say my interpretations may be the best but it may help you form your own thoughts on this guy. He's a really hard nut to crack but I think I do get how he felt about Ai, and what he struggled to do to an extent. Or what they were trying to go for by having him say those things. Things can overlap with the things I already said, and I incorporate my interpretations into my fanworks too so you may see some things in common~

Really…

If we remove the contradictory descriptions and align it with the song, when trying to roughly understand Kamiki’s psyche:

About this whole idea about Kamiki feeling the "weight of life"—this may sound like some strange nonsense (I feel the same way), but when it comes to him saying such things about Ai, I feel like I somewhat understand what he means.

This isn't about worship or idolization. No, Kamiki doesn’t kill someone for the sake of making Ai an unbeatable idol. I wonder if anyone still gets confused about this. But no, that's not it. Kamiki's reasoning on this is different from Nino's;

It feels more like Kamiki wanted to truly feel Ai's existence. It's a subtle difference, but it's there. He wanted Ai to be alive, but since she isn't, he resorted into trying to feel her existence by increasing her significance and presence, by doing what he did. (I don't know how it would, but according to his belief, this can be achieved by taking down people who can surpass Ai-probably people with the star eyes-)

That’s what it seems like too, based on how it’s phrased from his own perspective.

Ai is dead, but Kamiki couldn’t bear it, so he probably wanted to feel something similar to the feeling of Ai being alive, or at least something close to it. Did he really kill them though? Really? Seriously? Well, it hasn't been fully revealed yet, so I'll hold off on judgment on that for now.

If Ai were alive, Kamiki wouldn’t have acted this way. Over time, Kamiki couldn’t accept that Ai’s presence was fading away, and he wanted to keep her memory alive within him forever, so he acted like this.

But how did Kamiki come to think this way? I don’t think he would’ve reached this kind of belief on his own. Wasn’t there someone who hinted to him that by doing this, he could get closer to Ai? Because… how would Kamiki have known to approach specific people, with those exact conditions? Someone must have told him—maybe the 'black star.' Could he have come up with this idea on his own? And to believe that acting this way would bring him closer to Ai, from the start?

When you look at the lyrics of "Mephisto," at first Kamiki was doing something that could be considered somewhat theoretically logical—he wanted to exchange his life for Ai’s. But at some point, it warped into "becoming like Ai." When did things start to twist like this? What could have driven him to this point? His original personality seemed so gentle…

It’s like he kept saying, "I want to see her, I want to see her," and when that wasn’t possible, he changed direction. That’s how the whole narrative feels concerning the song, right?

"Mephisto" is definitely not about Aqua. It’s not. Because Ruby is still alive. In fact, Aqua giving his life would take him further from Ruby, and the sentiment behind this song is completely different.

Kamiki is definitely insane, but there’s something sad about it too.

Kamiki desperately wants to keep sending something, anything, to Ai, even though she’s gone. But no matter what he does, nothing will ever reach her. So, no matter what he does, his longing remains unfulfilled.

The lyrics of "Fatal" really capture Kamiki’s feelings perfectly. I also think "Mephisto" is his song. He keeps saying, "Watch me, I want to hear your voice, I want to reach you." It’s about his feelings for the dead, so it couldn’t have turned out any other way. He misses her so much, but it’s impossible to meet her. He can't have any of these things to be fulfilled or bear fruit, but he simply couldn't stop continuing to feel this way about Ai.

After Ai died, Kamiki couldn’t live a normal life anymore. But what exactly drove him over the edge in his despair? Did he go insane by himself, or was there something else influencing him? I can’t be sure. To go this mad, it feels like the latter. Because if it were just his original personality, he would’ve probably chosen to quietly follow Ai in death on his own without harming others. But it feels like something tempted him, pushing him away from that path. Even in the early parts of "Mephisto," it seems more… moderate? But then again, you see mentions of blood, so it feels like he may have already done something quite early on. Maybe he initially believed he could bring Ai back to life, but at some point realized it was impossible—by then, though, he’d already done too much to turn back.

After Ai died, Kamiki probably felt so empty that he couldn’t feel anything at all. I actually got this right in my fancomics even before 162 came out, you know? (One example) After Ai died, Kamiki couldn’t find meaning in anything, and from then on, whatever he did, it was all for Ai. He couldn’t feel alive without her. So, he did everything he could to reach her, to get closer to her.

In the end… Kamiki just wanted to see Ai again so badly that he didn’t know what else to do. That’s what these feelings are.

Sigh… When I analyze a character and create fan art, I have to emotionally align myself with them. More than just knowing theoretically, I need to feel a bit of what this emotion is like to understand it, so that I can write dialogue, draw expressions, and bring the character to life. It’s like locking onto their emotional wavelength.

So, the characters I’m good at handling are somewhat limited by series because I need to be able to do that to draw them.

This… feels like I can almost sync up, but it’s hard. These emotions are complicated. Very painful too.

You could see this as pitiful, but at the same time, it’s such a broken emotion.

Honestly, you only just need to listen to the songs. They’re filled with Kamiki’s emotions… Once you hear them, you instinctively understand what he’s feeling.

That’s why, after hearing "Fatal" in July, I’ve been analyzing, creating, immersed all the way up to now.

Kamiki really, truly misses her… But yes, there is madness in him.

I’ve done a lot of analysis, and so I derived Kamiki was originally a really good person. That’s pretty much confirmed in canon too, but… how do you save someone like this? Is he just beyond saving now?

I feel like there was something that drove Kamiki to this level of madness. Isn’t there the issue with the black star…? The lyrics constantly mention stars, and there's darkness coming from it as said in Fatal...

The sad part is that Kamiki didn’t fall apart just because of something bad happening to him. He broke down because he couldn’t bear Ai’s death… and the extent of his destruction is severe. To break Kamiki this badly, Ai had to die. Kamiki wouldn’t have gone this far if it were just him getting hurt or dying. That’s how I see it. Now, he’s definitely lost it. He couldn’t handle the idea of a world without Ai… That’s the impression I get now. He’s completely in ruin. It’s almost like something possessed him. It feels like something took root in Kamiki’s shattered heart. He wasn’t someone who could hurt others like this.

I knew, theoretically, that he’d be deeply broken, but to this extent, it’s like he’s a completely different person. It makes me wonder if this is even possible. His original personality was really good. This was based on my hunches, but seeing him described as noble confirms that I was right about him. I can think of two reasons for him being broken this bad: 1. he adored Ai so much that the blow was enormous, and… 2. there must have been something else. Just Ai’s death wouldn’t have immediately pushed him this far—there must have been a long-term destruction of his mind. Did he REALLY make a deal with the devil? There must be a reason why a song like Mephisto exists, it may be speaking on his behalf. Could be foreshadowing you know, whatever it is discussing, it STILL hasn't been touched!!

It feels like there’s more behind this. Why are they showing us nothing? Is this really not important? We need to see Kana’s graduation concert, and we have Aqua hurting himself and falling into the water… Shouldn’t the story start moving in that direction soon? There's so much to deal with in the story even without Kamiki; Couldn’t they just reveal it already? If it’s not important, why are there two songs, and why did Ai ask to save Kamiki? It feels like this isn’t the end yet, and the real mastermind if there is one, may be connected to all this…

Kamiki wasn’t someone who would’ve normally fallen apart like this. What could it be? Am I really on the right track? I feel like I’m going to be right. I’m really good at guessing things like this.

If Kamiki is really the embodiment of Sarutahiko…

Then he’s not someone who should die, right? Does it not matter because Ai is already dead?

If this is really the case though, if someone intentionally destroyed Kamiki, they would have a lot to gain from it. The domain he governs is incredibly powerful. He governs order, guides people’s futures, he’s a god of the land and light… If there’s a being that wants chaos and irrationality, Kamiki would be the perfect target. It feels like they kept him alive just to twist him, but they wouldn’t take the plot that far into fantasy, right?

I love mythology and fantasy, so if that’s the case, I think it’d be fun to see… haha. But it would be difficult to weave that into the story well.

Anyway… the fact that I’m searching for hope in mythology is really just me. But honestly, there are so many parallels. The strange, unnatural things happening around Kamiki can be explained through mythology. Otherwise, I have no idea what’s going on.

I’ve got a rough grasp on the emotions now, so I can probably draw him better. If I can’t get a handle on it, I can’t draw things properly.

The answers are all in the songs! The more I look into them, the more I’m amazed at how accurate they are, more than I first thought… They’ve captured Kamiki’s emotions so delicately and precisely. I’m in awe! The songwriters are really amazing! Hopefully, the things in the songs do get tackled. They seem very interesting to me and I'd love to see and learn more about it~

[electrificata]

Constantly marvelling at how. I grew up listening to shitty comedians talking abt how annoying/flightly women are cuz they can hold multiple contradictory ideas in their head, or maybe cuz they change their minds a lot. And the older i get the more it becomes clear that being an intelligent and thoughtful person requires you to hold multiple contradictory thoughts in your head and change your mind a lot. Because you are always absorbing and assimilating new information into your worldview. Those comedians were literally just advertizing their contempt for. Learning and growing. And it def involved misogyny but i also think some of it was hating the idea they might have to change and being like "well change is woman shit and i am a man" or "change is woman shit and i am a woman giving you an inside view of woman shit isnt it weird and bad"

[horizon-verizon]

I mean, there was always those who believed that Nettles was Daemon’s bastard daughter anyway so might as well replace her with his actual trueborn daughter ? Daemon and Nettles having a father/daughter or mentor/protégé relationship feels unfair and cruel to his two daughters, Rhaena has always felt ignored by her father, so if he does something to show her how much he loves her before ultimately giving his life while saving hers ? That would be hugely impactful. If Rhaena gets to be the daughter Daemon mentors and grows close to, the way he did with Nettles if you read their relationship as that of a surrogate father and his mentee (which I did, the idea that Nettles was his lover always felt like a manipulation by Mysaria to make Rhaenyra more paranoid), that’s going to be extremely satisfying to me.

People are assuming that the writers won’t do anything to show Daemon finally building more of a relationship with his daughters BEFORE that point, and we already know that they did and it was filmed (him holding both of them and grieving with them after Laena’s death). But they ultimately cut it from the episode because they wanted to hold back on that. To me, that indicates that the writers have ideas for how to show Daemon cares about his daughters, the producers are just holding back in order to give it more impact later.

Maybe you respond to this post.

Daemon and Nettles having a father/daughter or mentor/protégé relationship feels unfair and cruel to his two daughters, Rhaena has always felt ignored by her father, so if he does something to show her how much he loves her before ultimately giving his life while saving hers

A) This is ignoring & trying to make neutral the rewrite of making these girls' relationships w/Daemon...that way. As if the nixing was not that big of a deal. Why does it feel cruel? Because these writers--for no reason but misogynoir AND to make Daemon be comparatively, more unambiguously "bad" seemingly to make Rhaenyra look all the more "good"--decided to make those relationships that way when they had little real evidence for why it'd be that way!!! In fact contradictory evidence!!! Again, I don't take this show "seriously". As in, the writing is too bad and the characters are not themselves, so other than for some specific things, I don't engage with characters emotionally.

Ultimately, I don't think what you're suggesting has enough emotional payoff for what we lost...bc how we got there--S1 wise (real the post linked in "contradictory")--was unearned bc the logic simply wasn't there. (I guess for those who know of the lore, anyway.) How these bonds are not formed--if you wanted to go dysfunctional daddy-daughter-cuz-Daemon bad route--was so swiss-holed I simply can't take it seriously.

B) Perhaps this will be too caustic, but I don't think that your suggestions would be making things "better". Bc whatever happens in the future, it will always be a direct contradiction to the life Daemon & Rhaenyra would have built with these girls on Dragonstone those 10 odd years in the original story. And Baela would still be left out. It's not just Rhaena who Daemon ignores in the show. Removing Nettles from the equation merely flattens the entire story instead of expands it beyond Daemon and Rhaenyra. Flattens it back to a inner familial dispute over the suggested magical paths towards referring to Daenerys (POST [from danylanzhou of Twitter] & Rhaena being the last to hatch an egg by herself as Dany hatches her 3 by herself). And we're constricted to these characters rather than them, plus council members, plus later goldcloaks (when Rhaenyra does what she does at KL). Finally, the controversy over Dameon x Nettles is a necessary ingredient to how Rhaenyra falls...and Rhaenyra ordering for her husband daughter's head Or her arrest is beyond absurd, even for grieving mothers.

Perhaps you want that "bittersweetness". For me, it wouldn;t be sweet in anyway, bc there was all matter of opportunity for Daemon to build relationships with his daughters...it's way too much to expect from people that him suddenly deciding at the last possible moment to be a dad to ONE girl he immediately has access to almost immediately before he dies at the 11th hour to make me feel something positive about it. Especially when he has no compelling reason for it & when there is already so much more misogynoir baked into this show (like Rhaenyra treating her stepdaughters more like employees and that's just ONE thing).

Of course....IF all this abt the leaks will appear in the show.

[scriboniuscurio]

Guide Ahead is truly one of the worst written Arknights events. It has so many good themes and ideas setup, like how enculturation predisoposes us to certain prejudices to the point that we're unaware of our own bigotry, how a privileged class can come off as "peaceful and welcoming" but that's only because they are secure in their own superiority, how propaganda pits members of the oppressed class against each other rather than their oppressors, the conscious and deliberate upholding of oppressive systems because they are useful, how it can be difficult to actually come to the realization that you are apart of the oppressed class, that the unfair treatment you're receiving isn't personal, it's structural.

But it cannot fully realize any of these ideas because the narrative is so contradictory. It's contradictory to the point where I see people rewrite parts of it in their head so it can actually make any sense when they talk about it.

Like one "rewrite" I see is people acting like Andoain was receiving special privileges, because he is a Sankta, a member of the privileged race. That no one cared about capturing him and he was just walking around free. If this was true, it makes Fiammetta's feelings that she's not being taken seriously valid. And then we can assume part of the reason she's not being taken seriously is because she is a Liberi, a race that is ostensibly welcomed in Laterano, yet doesn't hold as much power as Sankta. The problem is though that this just flat out isn't true. Andoain was said to be in hiding before the events of the story. He's a wanted criminal. Preventing him from leaving the country is the top priority of the Laterano officials, even though they admit he's probably not actually planning anything violent.

The game simultaneously wants us to think about the racial relationships it brings to the table but also please don't, not too hard. The Sarkaz living in Laterano have done no wrong other than existing as a hated race. Fiammetta comits violence against them because she was raised in a culture that says the Sarkaz should not exist in this land. But for our climax, we don't get Fiammetta realizing Sarkaz are just people, and that her quest for revenge against Andoain is putting these innocent people at risk because literally all he's trying to do at the moment is safely get these "illegal" people across the border. Instead we get everyone going "yeah Fiammetta you were right sorry for not taking your feelings seriously, let's go get him." and then epic showdown against final boss Andoain. The structural themes that were introduced are discarded in favor of validating Fiammetta's personal unhealthy desire for revenge.

Yeah, sure, we get Andoain and the Pope waxing philosophical about the nature of Laterano and Sankta, and Andoain and his group do get to leave, but what about our protagonist, Fiammetta? What did she learn? How did she change? I know that unlearning culturally engrained values doesn't happen overnight, but we don't even get an inkling of change. Only thing she really got out of the story was "yeah Mostima and Lemuen really are my besties who love me." She doesn't realize "maybe pulling out a grenade launcher on a Sarkaz selling cotton candy was bad actually", she doesn't realize that maybe killing Andoain won't get rid of her guilty feelings, none of Patia's words get through to her, she doesn't realize that there's a relationship between her personal problems and the structural oppression she faces, she doesn't realize she faces structural oppression at all. She had so much potential as a character who lives "in between" classes, but in the end they discard her from those themes to give her a shonen power of friendship final showdown instead. Sucks.

[nanowrimo]

5 Tips to Getting to 50k Words

It’s the middle of NaNoWriMo, and the race to the finish may start to feel daunting! NaNo Participant Lori Chick has a few tips on staying motivated so you reach your word count goal. So, you’re a few weeks into NaNo, and you have just realized that 50k is a lot of words. It seems interminable and impossible and it’s stressing you out. Don’t. Don’t stress. NaNo is for fun and to challenge us and I can promise you, outside of real life (stupid real life ruining everything) issues, you can ABSOLUTELY hit your 50k. Honestly, your biggest obstacle is probably the anxiety and stress about writing 50k words in a month.

Thing is, the best way to hit 50k words is just to sit down and write. JUST write. Don’t edit, don’t look back at what you wrote, or research anything. Yes, I know, it means that what you’re going to end up with will be messy and contradictory and have plot holes a mile wide. But you know what? That doesn’t matter. Your challenge isn’t to complete a publisher worthy novel in one month — It’s to write 50k words in a month. I promise you, there are no authors, no matter how amazing and talented, who have a publishable novel in one month. NONE. It’s impossible. So you need to breathe and let that utterly absurd idea go. You’re not here to write the next great novel. You’re here to put the words on the pages. That’s it, that’s all. Just write words, one after another, until you hit 50k. Alright: now that we have that foolish expectation that was gnawing at you and destroying your word count dealt with — how do we get those words? 1. Stop Editing, Stop Researching Don’t do anything that isn’t putting words on the page. When you finish a sentence, write the next one. If you have to pause and think, then do that. Think about what happens next and write that. Or go off on a tangent  who knows, maybe there’s gold off in those unknown hills. Explore, have fun, give yourself permission to write whatever comes into your head. Remember this is a novel — but it is not a finished and edited novel. This is your first draft. I might even say it’s your pre first draft. You’re writing down your ideas and fleshing out your characters and your world. Hell, you can have a full 50k just about your world. That’s okay too. 2. Kill your criticism. Bonk it over the head with the Traveling Shovel of Death and have Mr. Ian Woon bury it in your backyard. Mary Sue/Gary Lou? Who cares? Plot holes? Those are just opportunities to fill in with whatever weird crap you want. Stuck? Throw in a murder, some aliens, ninjas, pirates or whatever your heart desires. It doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be fun. You can break ALL the writerly rules and I’ll let you in on a secret: almost every author who gets published breaks them ALL the time. Writing rules aren’t even rules (more like a vague guide), and they absolutely should not be walls. 3. Destroy distractions. You love your family, your friends, but tell them to buzz off for the month. If they really want they can run errands for you, but no, you don’t need to watch a crappy movie, or drink overpriced coffee in a noisy crowded franchise, you have 50k words to write. The only function of family and friends during NaNo is support staff to keep your butt in the chair and hold you while you sob uncontrollably after hitting a wall (while making sure you somehow eat, drink and sleep — at least some of those three). If they’re NaNo-ing with you, they’re your friendly challengers, make good use of that. All in all, family is a wonderful source of support, but distractions are the enemy. 4. Get a writing buddy (or more!) It is a huge help to write with other people. There’s a reason NaNo has Liaisons, it’s because it’s a LOT easier to hit 50k when you’re in a group who are all cheering each other on. Racing against a friend is great motivation, and the bonus is, even if you are racing, it still isn’t a cut throat competition, because you’re hoping that everyone hits 50k. So gather a group, challenge each other, go to the forums and get an adoptable NPC, plot twist or other. Ask for advice when you get stuck, and if your stress gets too high, vent. Yes, I know I said you should only be writing, but let’s be honest, that’s as likely to happen as you eating right and getting more active after a doctor’s visit. Do the best you can. 5.  Have Fun. NaNo isn’t supposed to destroy your mental health or your life. It’s meant to be a fun challenge, something to be proud of and to join with people around the world in a fevered ambitious attempt to fill up the ever yawning gap of digital space with words and ideas. Life is sometimes hard, we have mental health issues, many have children or financial issues. If you can’t make that 50k, don’t feel awful. Cut yourself some slack and admit that maybe it isn’t happening this year, and that’s okay. While your word count is important, YOU are more important. After all, you can’t hit 50k next year if you’re burned out this year.

Lori Chick is a Freelance Games Journalist who’s been reviewing, criticizing and ranting for four years for different outlets and a beta reader who’s seen two novels into publication. She lives with her husband, four adult chosen family and three cats of varying degrees of floofiness. Photo by Prateek Katyal on Unsplash

[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[mirafeya-writings]

j. kirstein x reader, cognizance

cog·ni·zance (noun) : awareness, realization, or knowledge; notice; perception: 

w.count: 800+ 

prompt: ““You’re never going to be the same after this.” 

pairing: jean kirstein x reader 

tw: death

Maybe he has always been blinded by your light. 

 To be fair, light wasn’t what he would use to describe you but the sheer amount of power you held left no other choices in its stead. His dreams were alive and vivid back then when the training began, upholding false delusions about the world those at the top perpetuated the tale of and calling them reality but you had none of it, confronted him about his counterfeit honesty. His childish self who desired affection and admiration more than he could ever admit clung into another dream of ‘perfect woman’, someone he could love and be loved from endlessly. Silky long hair, porcelain skin, calm demeanour; a family he could call his own and the wealth they embellished together. 

 You had none of his childish inquiries. Jean could not have known back then, what your eyes of shadows praying to the dark and blinded by light could have been caused by. No family to call your own, no home to go back to. He was not even capable of imagining it, just how did you even survive? There always is a special tint in eyes of the children who had seen more than they should have but Jean was too young, no, maybe too much his own age to understand.

 You asked him if he liked Mikasa. And him, who had no idea what this contradictory infatuation meant back then, said yes. You’ve learned to hide your vulnerability even before you learned how to love so he could not tell the state your heart was in back then, too well of a disguise to see through.

 Because ‘she’ was the dream. His only way of normalcy. And you represented the world he closed his eyes to and dared to not hear, the sheer reality and the hand of fate you have been dealt with echoing in your words endlessly. You were the world he never had the courage to imagine but now, all of them were living in it.

 “You’re never going to be the same after this.” You say, smell of charred corpses of your once called comrades present in the air no matter you went. Almost as if the very stench of death has been carved into his skin irreversibly, a drawing of Marco clutched tightly within his palms Jean resists the urge to vomit.

 You are calm. You have to be to survive, hell, for even others. He always had trouble reading you but he’d have to be blind to not spot the deep sombre clouding your eyes, watching the flames cascade into sky from afar. It was you who noticed he was close to breaking down near other cadets and it was you who pulled him away from there, now settled in far corners of the forest you are familiar with. Yet, death lingers. Jean wonders if this smell will ever go away. 

 Fumbling with your hands, not exactly sure how to approach to subject as dire as this, you wait for him to react. A few tears slip without words at first. Jean wipes them all away instantly, trying to be discreet yet you have none of it. He keeps his gaze intact on the soil below, a few flowers dead and a few flourished, squeezing his fists as much as he can to get a hold of himself.

 Then you put a hand over his fist. All the hell breaks loose. The sob that wretches its way through his lungs is painful to describe at the least, you lunge forward before he even has a chance to react, knowing his best method of calming down usually requires a sense of touch, affection. You bury his head to his chest as his muffled cries echo through the forest, fingers grasping the seams of your shirt like he is holding on them for life. Strands of his hair come to life as you slowly drag your hand up and down, other settled on his back. It is in your nature, to protect so this world does not steal more than you who has nothing left but Jean does not know, 

 Jean does not know how cruel this world can be and he does not know what humans are truly capable of if their history shapes them to it. Until now, you ponder. You were born into catastrophe and you knew how to fight it even before you were alive but Jean has to learn it all from scratch, endure all the pain he never even knew existed.

 It does not matter if he does not love you. As long as he is alive and content, it never will even if your heart lingers for what you cannot have. But for him, it marks the day where he realised he was in love with you even before he knew. Even after all these years and even after all the years that will come to pass, that day will be forever carved into his history. And the love he has learnt to cherish.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 32

Chapter 32 : A part of you

- Damn, when I tell you that I can't be a father, Andraste... he choked back.

My arm fell back, burning with pain where Lance had squeezed it too tightly. I probably should have been terrified by his gesture, upset with him and his silly words ; almost abject, wanting to hit him or at least respond to his hurtful insults.

However, I couldn't.

Obviously, all this revolted me, I admitted it. But...

But he had once again opened the breach, probably totally unconsciously, except that the fact was there. Even if he shouted at me otherwise, the dragon made me understand that the idea had already begun to germinate in his mind. And his anger, as virulent as it was unjustified, only confirmed it.

Lance had been terrified of something happening to the baby and me, it was as simple as that. And even if his method was clearly not the right one - I was also not left to know that mine had not been either - at least, he attached importance to it. A real importance.

Despite the searing pain in my forearm, I walked over to him, making his eyes widen slightly.

- It may still be a little early to give such hasty conclusions, don't you think ?

He blinked several times, giving him a youthful look that confused me. Then its hard, impermeable and cold shell reformed, preventing me from reaching it any further.

He looked away, staring at a point in the distance behind me.

- You should go home now. The order should have already been announced to everyone in HQ, but no one should stay outside until the area has been fully secured.

I bit the inside of my cheek, now really annoyed that he was stopping the conversation like this.

- And... consider going to see Eweleïn, tomorrow, for your arm, he added with what sounded like shame. I hope you're okay, I'm sorry.

I turned my head and sighed deeply, finding nothing more to answer as he turned away from me to close the large gate that gave access to the plains.

With a heavy heart, I returned to my room.

*

I had been circling my room for far too long not to feel like I was going crazy, my palms sweating, somewhat shaking with apprehension, reminiscing about our disastrous conversation over and over again following my far, too abrupt and direct for him who was of course, not ready to hear such news. Subsequently, his gentler gestures, even caring, when he helped me put on a more suitable outfit. And finally, his last words, pretty scathing, still resonating in my mind.

« When I tell you that I can't be a father, Andraste... »

Damn, how could things have turned out like this ?And how did Lance manage to be so contradictory ?!

My steps came to an abrupt halt as I rubbed the corners of my eyes briskly with my fingers, a gesture Lance often did when he was tense. Then, unable to hold it any longer, I flung open the door of my room to rush into the hallway, which had become strangely calm during this eventful evening.

I knew Lance had returned to his quarters, I had overheard him talking to one of his soldiers. And I had to see him, right away.

So, far too quickly for my thoughts to become clear enough for me to actually make a speech to him, say, within the limits of correctness, I found myself standing outside his door, my hand in the air and my thoughts muddled. Earlier, however, the dragon had been crystal clear : he didn't want children.

Not now, not ever.

But there it was, as incredible and horrible as it might seem to him, there we were. And I couldn't decently stay on those words ; believed, almost cruel, that he had used towards this news and towards himself.

My knuckles slammed into the cold wood, knocking twice sharply.

I waited for several seconds, straining my ears to try to distinguish the slightest sound coming from inside the room, but only silence answered me. I then repeated the operation, this time with a little more conviction in my gesture.

But maybe not in my voice, which was already beginning to waver in my barely audible whisper.

- Please, I need to talk to you...

A deep sadness suddenly came over me, wrapping itself around my heart, preventing me from breathing normally, when a sneaky idea took shape in my thoughts. What if he had decided never to speak to me again ? What if this obstacle really turns out to be insurmountable for him and our relationship ?

Suddenly, long thin fingers and masts appeared in my field of vision, quickly wrapping around my wrist to prevent me from coming to crush my knuckles again much harder than necessary on the door of his room. And I didn't move, didn't turn around either, even when the sparks that were never long in coming to swarm over our skins showed up, much more vivid and cold than usual. We just stayed... like that, his hand supporting my wrist and his breath, oddly disordered, playing in my hair. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally lowered his arm, dragging me at the same time until I fell back into the void, without letting go of me.

With a gesture... tired.

Like exhausted.

- Andraste, what are you doing here ? he asked me in a deep voice, still showing some astonishment.

Now that he was there, that his voice, with its usually so deep and warm intonations, caressed me with its cold current, I remained silent, unable to explain anything to him.

Behind me, he sighed deeply, almost contritely, before letting go of my wrist and opening the door in front of me. Without any other form of politeness, he bypassed me in order to rush into the room while turning on the light in passing. Then he walked to the back without looking at me, leaving the door wide open despite everything, thus inviting me to follow him silently.

I then entered this room of a thousand memories, in which Lance and I had discovered each other for the very first time. I closed behind me, despite myself leaving my hands on the handle behind my back, not really managing to get away from its entrance - or its exit, I didn't really know.

Without a word, the dragon removed his armours, placing them on a shelf not far from him. Once weighted with these weights, he rolled his shoulders under the fabric of his garment with a flexible movement before turning his back on me and removing it completely. I watched thoughtfully as the light played on his back muscles as he pulled on a more relaxed top.

Finally, he turned to me while blowing loudly before finally coming to plant his gaze in mine.

- You can come in, you know. Well, you can take off the door, I mean, he said, raising one of his eyebrows.

I hadn't even realized that my fingers had gripped the handle so tightly when they finally let go...

Dropping my hand, I took several steps until I stopped at his level. Up close, his features were already drawn with fatigue.

- How's your arm ? he asked me in a strangely uncertain way. Were you able to see Eweleïn ?

I shrug my shoulders back.

- I didn't need it. You just squeezed it a little tight, it wasn't that bad.

He turned his head away, clenching his jaw, obviously still blaming himself for his excess of strength a little earlier.

- You have decided on something in relation to humans, with Huang Hua ? I tried to break the heavy silence that settled, not really knowing where to start.

He sighed again.

- We'll have a meeting tomorrow on this subject. If they really come back in two days as they announced, we'll have to prepare for all eventualities. You'll have to be ready.

My eyes rested for a long time on the books that adorned the libraries in front of me, replaying the words of these men over and over again.

- They also mentioned a name supposed to be your knowledge, he resumed. Does that tell you anything ?

I came back to him, my voice slightly troubled.

- Charles is my father's name.

He blinked, obviously not having expected this eventuality.

- They also mentioned the fact that I go to Earth to discuss with him, but I thought that the portals were almost impossible to open.

- It's out of the question that you go there, he decided suddenly.

I watched him, taken aback.

- But if it's really about my father...

- That's out of the question, Andraste ! he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. No one on Earth is supposed to remember you. So how could he ?

- But I have to know if it's really him ! It's still my father, Lance... And anyway, do you really think they'll leave very wisely without having obtained anything of what they came for ?

His gaze became hard again, he was visibly implacable on this subject.

- As long as it concerns you, directly or indirectly, they won't get anything at all, indeed.

My shoulders slumped heavily. I was tired of constantly arguing with him tonight...

Without my realizing it, tears - from fatigue, anger or perhaps abandonment, quite simply - then began to form in the corner of my eyes. I wanted to answer but nothing managed to come out. In fact, there were so many things I needed to tell him that it was clogging my throat, I didn't even know where to start.

- Andraste...

- Lance, you can't decide everything for me, I cut him off abruptly. Neither for that, nor for the rest. And I've already made my decision.

I saw him close his eyes sharply, as if my last words were impossible for him to hear. Then he opened them again, staring into the void beside him.

- You're planning to have this child, aren't you ? he asked me in a weak voice, already knowing the answer perfectly. Even if he actually has my genes ?

And I nodded, simply because deep down I already knew that nothing could have taken me away from this idea.

- But I would like... that you want it too. That you and I, we walk this path together.

Suddenly, the dragon advanced towards me and with one hand, he pushed me back in order to come and press me suddenly against the piece of furniture behind my back, imprisoning me with his arms. He then came to lean against the wood near my face while his other hand curled just around the base of my neck.

- Don't forget who I am, damn it ! he reproached me between gritted teeth, a gleam of deep sadness marking his pupils. I can't be the father of your child, it's simply impossible ! How many times have I hurt you ? How many times have I tried to kill you ?!

He choked on that last words, tears already threatening to flood his too-bright eyes.

On my thin skin, his fingers tensed, twisted.

But I only felt a caress that was perhaps a little too desperate.

- I don't have the right to be a father, Andraste ! What if I went back to how I was before ? What if one day I freaked out again ? I still have a vicious, monstrous fear that takes hold of me when I touch you, when you trust me.

Arms extended along my body, crushed by the weight of the man I loved, I was weakened by his cries, however weak, which pierced my heart.

Probably without realizing it, Lance's fingers left the base of my neck to lodge closer to my neck, unable to help but give free rein to the movements of his thumb.

- What if I hurt our child ? he struggled in an almost inaudible whisper, almost like a sob. What if I couldn't control myself ?

- Lance...

I closed my eyes, my heart heavy with feelings. He had just said it.

« Our child ».

When one of his tears crashed against my cheek, his body towering above me, I finally realized that mine were already dripping. Slowly, my hand moved up to his wrist around me, letting a weak current of energy run between us.

- Who are you trying to convince by doing this ? I asked him suddenly.

His eyes, the gleams made even more unreal by his tears, then blinked quickly. Every time my mouth opened, I felt his breath hitch.

Yet it wasn't his throat he was clutching.

Besides, was that even the right word ?

- Is it me or you, that you're trying to convince ? Because your bullying act...

Despite his powerful fingers, I was sure that my pale skin there hadn't taken on the slightest redness.

- ...would you even be able to do it ? I added, in turn rolling my hand around his.

Because his tense fingers barely brushed me.

Shocked, he jerked his arm away, letting it slide into the void, then he moved away from me to fall back onto the bed behind him, letting his palms fall limply between his legs as he pressed his forearms on his thighs.

- You know very well not...

- So you see that you're no longer the same, I demonstrated to him, taking a step towards him. Before, you were guided by an anger that is no longer necessary, because it's no longer part of you. I trust you more than anyone in the world, and I would only like you to see yourself as I see you and not just as you think we should.

I took another step forward, subtracting the distance between us.

- And this baby is also a part of you. A part that I want to cherish and protect, that I want to teach that the world is not just made of loneliness. And above all, to make him feel, day after day, what it's to be loved unconditionally, I added in a voice trembling with emotion.

Yet it wasn't his throat he was clutching.

Besides, was that even the right word?

- Is it me or you, that you are trying to convince?  Because your bullying act...

Despite his powerful fingers, I was sure that my pale skin there hadn't taken on the slightest redness.

- ...would you even be able to do it?  I added, in turn rolling my hand around his.

Because his tense fingers barely brushed me.

Shocked, he jerked his arm away, letting it slide into the void, then he moved away from me to fall back onto the bed behind him, letting his palms fall limply between his legs as he pressed his front legs.  - arms on his thighs.

- You know very well not...

- So you see that you are no longer the same, I demonstrated to him, taking a step towards him.  Before, you were guided by an anger that is no longer necessary, because it is no longer part of you.  I trust you more than anyone in the world, and I would only like you to see yourself as I see you and not just as you think we should.

I took another step forward, subtracting the distance between us.

- And this baby is also a part of you. A part that I want to cherish and protect, that I want to teach that the world is not just made of loneliness. And above all, to make him feel, day after day, what it is to be loved unconditionally, I added in a voice trembling with emotion.

Noticing my condition, which I unfortunately had trouble concealing, the hardness that had marked the dragon's eyes a moment earlier disappeared immediately, shifting into something I couldn't define. Then without warning, one of his hands landed on my lower back and pulled me to him, this time in an infinitely more measured way.

When I was close, my knees between his legs bumping against the mattress, Lance took me by surprise as he came to plant his forehead against my stomach.

And I remained planted there, like that, too surprised by his gesture to sketch the slightest movement. Several seconds passed during which none of us broke the silence of the room. He just lay... there, eyes closed, like that was the only place he needed to be.

Then after a moment, his voice rose against my top, his fresh breath caressing my skin through the fabric.

- I'm sorry, my angel... he told me without moving. I don't know how to react anymore. I say and do bullshit after bullshit, I'm completely lost...

He let a few seconds pass before adding, much more weakly :

- And I'm fucking terrified.

So I let my body act on its own, moving one of my arms up to slide my fingers between his long fair locks, caressing them with a gentle gesture.

- You know, I'm scared too, I confessed to him in a whisper. I've never felt anything so strong as since I knew it and it's true, it's perfectly terrifying, yet for nothing in the world I will go back.

When he pulled his forehead away from my stomach, I felt a strange energy, slightly different from Lance's, run through that same area in abstract shapes.

Eyebrows arched in astonishment, he lifted my top above my navel, amazed to discover there an ice he hadn't formed.

[maddieinwonder]

The Seventh

Slight Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None at all

Word Count: 1.6k

Plot: Reader hears a lot of rumours about the BAU before she applies to join the team. (Part 2 here!)

Author's Note: I love the idea of the BAU being notorious in the FBI, because honestly, they totally would be! And I would be lying if I said I've never crushed hard irl on a mysterious genius boy...

Masterlist

------------

Before you decided to join the BAU, you had heard all kinds of gossip about its members. It was a hot topic among your colleagues, but you could hardly blame them for the shameless act, when you left one ear open for it yourself.

Professionally, if they weren't called the BAU, people called them the "serial killer guys", since they couldn't seem to escape them in their cases. But among your lunch group, they were called "The Seven".

It was an embarrassing name in your opinion, too easily implying that the BAU was elite, untouchable. But the more you learned about them, the more you thought there could some truth to it.

Number One was SSA Hotchner, the unit chief known for his stone cold attitude. You heard a rumour that he once threatened the BAU section chief without so much as batting an eye. Anybody else would have been fired on the spot, but it seemed that Hotchner was so unrivalled in his job that he was asked to stay anyway.

Hotchner's opposite was SSA Rossi, who seemed to be the more "human" of the two, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. He was famous both in and out of the FBI, having built the BAU from the ground up, and written multiple best-selling books about criminal analysis. Why he decided to return to the BAU was a mystery to everyone, but you had a feeling he actually missed it.

Then there was SSA Prentiss. Everyone's consensus was that she seemed nice, but ultimately professional. People theorised that her political upbringing made her into a politician herself, but you once saw her in the BAU office laughing so hard that tears started rolling down her cheeks, and that's when you decided she couldn't be as stiff as the rest made her out to be.

SSA Morgan was the one everybody liked, on a shallow level at least. All your fingers and toes weren't enough to count how many people you knew had a crush on him. You've seen grown women visibly swoon when he walked by, which was partially hilarious for you, but also partially embarrassing for womenkind. You could see the appeal, somewhat, but he wasn't your speed.

Your favourite was JJ. Jennifer Jareau was the BAU's communications liaison and the only one you'd dare call a friend. You'd worked with her on multiple cases in the past, and in fact, she was the one who recommended you for the new position. She's a complete sweetheart, but you also knew that she once headshot an unsub right in the BAU office to protect Penelope. That fact only increased your admiration for her.

She was also the one to introduce you to the BAU's infamous technical analyst. You had heard of Penelope Garcia prior to that, but she so rarely emerged from her office that you almost thought she was a myth. The real person was unlike an FBI agent at all, always donning some combination of bright colours, feathers, and/or sparkles. Most people who'd seen her labelled her as a weirdo, but there was something about her, a sense of positivity, that you loved.

Last but not least, the one that slipped under everyone's radar, Dr. Spencer Reid. People didn't talk much about Dr. Reid because, well, there was nothing really to talk about. He was the youngest person to ever join the FBI, had an IQ of 187, and you thought he was far too pretty to be doing a job this terrible, but that's where the conversations usually ended.

Everything that could be said, envied, or admired about the genius had simply been covered already, and he offered no new fodder for the gossip trolls to chew on; he rarely left the office, he didn't mingle with the other departments, and frankly, everyone thought he was socially awkward.

Yet, you found yourself continuously coming back to him in your thoughts. Maybe, subconsciously, you wanted to join the BAU so that you could figure him out.

The first time you met Dr. Reid, he was giving the profile of an unsub to the larger team. His words sped by so quickly, yet with so much insight and detail that you found yourself scrunching your face in concentration in order to get it all, and that impressed you.

You had always been a quick study but you instantly knew that Dr. Reid would be a challenge, both professionally and personally, and you hadn't even got to know him yet.

As you submitted the request to join the BAU, you admit that the excitement of that challenge was at the forefront of your mind. And when you were called into SSA Hotchner's office a few months later, the thought rang in your head even louder.

"Agent Hotchner, you called for me?" You asked at his door, suddenly feeling timid in the face of your potential boss.

"Sit down, agent," he said without looking up. As you took a seat, he opened a file that was undoubtedly yours and looked up. His eyebrows were furrowed, but if what you'd heard about him was true, this didn't necessarily mean anything bad. And you were right.

"I have your test results with me," he began. "Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you for scoring the highest in your class." You swore he almost cracked a smile.

"I've also heard a lot about you. Your boss had many good things to say about your work ethic, your field experience, and your commitment to justice," he continued.

Now it was your turn to smile.

"But I want to know the real reason why you want to join the BAU." Your smile faltered slightly, something that you're sure Hotchner would pick up on.

He leaned forward in his desk, purposefully applying pressure on the situation, and you let out a quiet breath in preparation.

"The reason I wanted to join the BAU may not be new to you, but I'm looking for a challenge. I want to make a change." You started. "I understand that those two may be contradictory principles, but I believe I can grow and do a lot of good with the BAU."

"And what if the job gets too much for you?" He asks, a flicker of emotion that I didn't recognise crossing his face.

"I'm prepared for that," you said determinedly. "I may not know what this job will take from me, but I'd like the opportunity to prove that I can grow from it, sir."

Agent Hotchner eyed you for a moment before standing up. "Very well, then." He reached out his hand. "Welcome to the BAU."

You looked at his hand for a second, the shock barely registering, before scrambling to your feet. "Thank you, sir! I won't disappoint you!" You shake his hand grinning.

"And next time, just call me Hotch." He said, this time smiling amusedly at your enthusiasm.

"Got it, and thank you again, sir." You said, excusing yourself from his room with a noticeable skip in your step.

You tried to cool yourself off walking back to your department to share the good news, but the excitement proved too much to hold in when a familiar voice calls out to you.

"Hey babygirl, considering you just came out of Hotch's office with a smile, I'm guessing you're going to be our newest teammate."

You turned around, trying to swallow your giddiness, when you realised that person was none other than SSA Morgan.

"Agent Morgan," you stuck out your hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you, and yes, I am."

"Derek." He corrected, grinning as he shook your hand. "Looking forward to working closely with you."

"Just call him Morgan. Don't need to get too close to this player." SSA Prentiss nudged Derek out of the way, raising her hand to meet yours. "I'm Emily Prentiss."

You giggled at their closeness.

The rest of the introductions quickly followed, including hugs from JJ and Penelope, and a starstruck moment when Rossi left his office to personally welcome you to the team. But there was one person whom you hadn't formally met yet.

Dr. Reid had finally separated his head from his work amidst the commotion (plus a very strong encouragement from one Mr. Derek Morgan to "go get her, pretty boy") and walked up to you, a nervous gait in his step.

He stuck his hand out to your surprise, having heard that the doctor was a tad germaphobic, and shook yours. "Dr. Spencer Reid," he said. "But you can call me Spencer, everyone else does."

"Nice to meet you, Spencer." You tried out the foreign name on your tongue. "Honestly, I'm quite a fan of your academic papers. I'm looking forward to working with you."

You knew the genius was a bit awkward, but he instantly turned beet red at your words and retracted his hand. The thought that this was the first time somebody had complimented him this way made you a little sad. But you thought his reaction was incredibly cute, and apparently so did the rest.

"Pretty boy, pret-ty boy, is that how you should react around a lady?" Derek sing-songed, putting his arm around the poor genius' shoulders, tugging him down.

JJ shot you an apologetic look for her childish teammates, while the rest joined in to poke fun at Spencer. Although he was frowning, his voice betrayed no hints of annoyance. Clearly they were all very close.

You laughed along, feeling a growing warmth in your chest, and wondered if you'd be a part of this family in the future.

But first, you’d have to get used to being the Eighth.

------------

(Part 2 here!)

[destinyc1020]

Anon.

With regard to Tom's ongoing remarks on his future in acting (and specifically his comments about being Spider-Man), I think it's important to remember that, among other things, in all likelihood Tom's been in contract-limbo. Being unsure of whether or not that's even an option for his future has to beg the question for him of if he even wants it in the first place. It'd also be a way of steadying himself for a blow if he doesn't sign a new Spidey contract. This interview was back in October; if the rumors are true, he's signed on for more now. So who knows. I love what that other anon wrote about people being complicated: we all have multiple feelings and perspectives on things. Remember the adage about what intelligence is: being able to hold and comprehend the validity of two opposing ideas in your head at the same time. He wants it, he doesn't want it; he loves it, he doesn't love it. He's human and has every right to be unsure and to speculate and to change his mind thirty times in thirty minutes. He's figuring life out, just like the rest of us; he just has to do it in front of the world. I can't imagine what people would think/do if they knew all the crazy-ass contradictory shit in my head--and, fortunately, I don't have to find out or have anyone weigh in on it, other than those I want to.

I think it's safe to say that the one thing Tom is unwavering about is his love for Z. They're obviously one another's best friend, feral forever crush, safety, and anchor. (They make me believe in soulmates. (And we know Z does believe in that.) That's a feat.) I fully believe both Tom and Z would sacrifice their careers for one another and for the good of their family. That's just who they are, and it's why they'll stay together. They know what's truly important in life and how to prioritize. I could easily see Tom being a stay-at-home dad, like he said, maybe once in a while producing or directing or doing carpentry, and I can also see him just being the best damn husband and father the world has ever seen. (And he'll always be Z's hype man, whether she's in films, modeling, real estate, fashion, pottery, or motherhood. The man's got her back and is more than happy to let her shine.)

Tom's a beautiful soul and deserves nothing but happiness, whatever that happiness looks like for him, and however many times what he wants/needs changes.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 

Gosh...you all are just turning on the water works for me tonight!  My gosh....  😭 😭

This was all very beautifully stated Anon.  I especially loved these parts:  “He's human and has every right to be unsure and to speculate and to change his mind thirty times in thirty minutes. He's figuring life out, just like the rest of us; he just has to do it in front of the world.”

“I think it's safe to say that the one thing Tom is unwavering about is his love for Z. They're obviously one another's best friend, feral forever crush, safety, and anchor.”

“I could easily see Tom being a stay-at-home dad, like he said, maybe once in a while producing or directing or doing carpentry, and I can also see him just being the best damn husband and father the world has ever seen.”

“Tom's a beautiful soul and deserves nothing but happiness, whatever that happiness looks like for him, and however many times what he wants/needs changes.”

I definitely sense that Tom is contemplating the future and what it looks like for him.  He’s also in a serious relationship, and no doubt he’s taking that into consideration when he thinks about his future, and what he wants.   

Anyway.....This was so beautiful... Thanks for sharing your thoughts. 🥰 🥰  

[kendrixtermina]

But what do we MEAN by Feeling, Thinking, etc.

I hadn’t put these on tumblr & it occurred to me that I probably should  

I think a great amount of the confusion regarding enneagram / mbti combos is that they use the rather vague colloquial terms „thinking“ and „feeling“ to mean different things.

„Thinking“ in the mbti is task-oriented reasoning, „feeling“ is reasoning in terms of intentional actors. Indeed a dichotomy between explaining things through either causes or intentions, living or nonliving systems, seems somewhat inbuilt in the human mind, I think there are experiments that show even babies make this distinction.

Obviously, if you are looking at intentional actors (be it yourself or others), it’s natural for emotions to be a part of that reasoning. Intentional actors usually have feelings; Sticks & tools do not.

You might see that people don’t always make a clean split – a surgeon may treat removing an appendix as a task in which the patient is understood object with parts so he can keep a cool head, a poet might say that the leaves are „dancing“ in the wind to evoke feelings in the reader or express how his perception is colored his own.

„Thinking“ in the enneagram centers of intelligence sense is rather explicit, effortful, ‚system 2‘ thought. (regardless of what kind it is: logic, planning, imagining etc.)

General humans avoid doing that cause it burns alot of sugar and less costly processes work just as well, but some avoid it less than others. Or maybe us head types are just touchy little fuckers that have a more exaggerated response to less stimulus.

The upside of this is that it’s flexible & adaptable to tasks that we never encountered in the savannah, and that it can override our intuitions. Also, if you used explict reasoning you can give a reason for why you arrived at the conclusion, change parameters and „rerun the simulation“.

The downside is that it is slow and costs a lotta juice, also, it doesn’t always have an answer if there is not enough data, whereas intuition & association can almost always supply some usable guess.

„explicit thought“ is needed to apply a method that is counter to our intuitions, to consider multiple factors at once, and to doubt (since doubting requires holding two contradictory ideas in your mind) – its probably no coincidence that type 6, the „pure“ thinking type, is also the most doubting.

„feeling“ here means the middle or mammalian brain, the „associative machine“ or „affect heuristic“.

Enthusiasts of cats or dogs more or less know that they have what we would recognize as a „heart“ – the capacity to bond, social emotions shown through complex body language (and unique personality differences related how how they’re expressed), and also, reinforced learning, which is quite relevant when we consider, say, type 3. Feelingsland is the home of motivation.

Another ability of the associative mind is to intuitive translate things to different scales.

If you’re asked to donate money to protect birds from oilspills, most ppl don’t whip out their financial planners, but decide based on how much emotion they feel about those poor, poor seabirds, and then associatively transfer it from hurt feelings to dollars.

This is why most of us can answer questions like „If dave was as tall as he is intelligent how tall would he be“ or why we can understand each other through poetic expressions like „that hurtful statement felt like being stabbed with a knife“ even if none of us have been in a knife fight. Both emotional pain &physical pain are scales.

Likewise when buying a product, most pll don’t go comparing the specs & the evidence for which is best (well… the 6s among us do.) but we go by what feelings & memories we connect with the product & how it fits our idea of ourselves, & may refuse to touch it if it doesn’t.

However, frequent errors in dog training have to do with how dogs can’t „think“, at least not very well – they have rather good associative memories, but they can’t generalize easily. This is why a dog might have to learn to perform a trick in multiple rooms before it gets that the cue always means the same thing, and why its encouraged to use positive reinforcement over punishment cause the dogs may be unable to deduce why they’re being punished, and just associate „you“ with „pain“. Similar caveats apply with small children whose thinking skills arent fully online yet.

That said, I wouldn’t say humans are the only ones capable of „thinking“ – You could make a good case for Crows, Great Apes, Dolphins, Parrots & Elephants, and maybe even Octopi or Bees. Future planning, symbol use, complex problemsolving…

notably, there’s a third category (thought the two systems approach lumps them together), which is intuitive impressions.

The distinguisher here is that it’s somewhat automatic.

If you decided by thinking you can give reasons, if you decided by feeling you can point out your associations, but in the case of a „gut feeling“ decision, you just „see“ it, or „recognize“ or „guess“.

Just as you „see“ the world around you as distinct objects or, unless you’re a grade schooler, can „see“ what a word means without having to go through each individual letter.

That doesn’t mean it’s not sophisticated: Take for instance the example of a doctor who, after a lot of doctoring experience, can recognize some conditions on sight from skin lesions or a characteristic constellation of systems, or an expert chess player who just „sees“ a strong move or that the game will end in three turns.

This also generates impulses, like recoiling when something suddenly comes at you.

So, in terms of functionality, this includes basic survival machinery like spotting snakes or attractive mates, learning by copying or recognizing from experience, and, crucially, spotting what is normal or expected. The intuitive brain has a sort of „autocomplete“ function where it’s always guessing what’s likely to happen next based on everything it’s seen so far in similar places & situations, & is always on the lookout for stuff that is not right or suspicious.

For example, consider a case where a fireman got the sense that something was „off“, ordered his colleagues out of the room, and then minutes later the floor collapsed. He could not say at first what he had noticed, but he trusted it & acted on it straightaway. Only later could he puzzle together that the noise level was wrong & his ears hotter than normal. He didn’t sherlock holmes style logically deduce that the fire had actually started in the basement, but he knew something wasn’t normal.

If this happens again, though, he is likely to recognize it.

Imagine you’re picking clothes.

If you just grab one, that’s going by impression/impulse. (maybe it seemed comfortable, pretty, „looked right“ according to simple criteria, or was simply your first impulse. )

If you pick one that matches your mood, the impression you want to evoke where you’re going, or the feelings, experiences & memories thar you connect with it, that’s association.

If you briefly stand there thinking about which one’s right for the weather, making a political statement, or fitting some theme, that’s explicit thought.

Consider an ISTJ 1, to pick an uncontroversial combo that won’t derail the example into an argument. That would be someone who does a whole lot of „thinking“ in the mbti sense but not so much „thinking“ in the enneagram sense.

He’s evaluating everything by criteria, task oriented criteria, but probably doesn’t often sit there stressing over what the best criteria are, like his hypothetical 6 cousin might. He has some sensory impression of how whatever it is he works with „should“ look & compares against that – is it right, yes or no? If its not, it jumps out at him right away (Si + intuitive spotting of deviations from norm) he puts it right according some some procedure he has previously learned by copying his teacher or gotten from a rule book (though he prolly reads journals related to his job to have the most up to date procedure & constatly improve to fit his high standards), but which, in day to day life, he now mostly just applies meticulously & dilligently with attention to fine physical detail.

If he notices his method doesnt work, he may stop & explicitly think it through, and maybe come up with a better procedure, but mostly what he has active is his intuitive „seeing“ - & where “explicit thinking” is done it may serve as a “water carrier” to his intuitions, to retroactively rationalize his impressions.

If you had some ISFJ 1 instead much of her evaluation would concern the correctness of their social behavior. (intentional actors) – „oh, lisa’s face looked a tic less enthusiastic than how i remember it last time. Did I do a bad job?“

[aminiatureworld]

Honesty

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,830

Warnings: None

Premise: Some habits just turn bad over time, and not matter how much we try they can be terribly difficult to stop.

In which Kaeya keeps to himself.

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon! I thank you once more, and I hope that this was as you envisioned it. Also didn’t expect this to be so incredibly long but I hope that’s not unwelcome!

Kaeya is one of my favorite characters to write, but I also find him one of the hardest as well. He’s very good at slipping through your grasp, and it can be hard to convey such an outwardly complex and flirtatious character without making him a cardboard cutout. But it’s also incredibly gratifying when you think you’ve done it well. I hope this is one of the times.

Non bulleted pointed version on Ao3

It wasn’t that Kaeya wasn’t used to attention. It was simply that he wasn’t used to your attention.

I mean Kaeya was hardly the most innocent man in Monstadt; almost everyone spoke of the handsome and slightly ill-behaved cavalry captain. Kaeya certainly did nothing to discourage the talk, or the flirting, not when it was so fun. It felt good to be looked at for reasons, well if not positive at least they weren’t in the same league as the notoriety he’d picked up otherwise. Disapproving citizens were certainly better than a disapproving brother, especially since said brother had a habit of parroting Kaeya’s darkest thoughts.

Of course Kaeya wasn’t looking for anything when it came to said flirtations. Not only because the appeal was never there, at least not in any legitimate sense, but because Kaeya secretly felt he was a bit of a burden, something he’d never even admit to himself. And no one wanted a partner with emotional baggage. If there was anything Kaeya was quite sure of it was that. And he hadn’t the time, nor really the ability, to fix all his problems, if he wasn’t permanently broken already. Better to keep away from any firm attachments, one that might ruin the lives of those around him.

This admittedly terrible conclusion was all perfectly fine in theory, but then you’d arrived and it’d all fallen to the wayside.

You were perfection to Kaeya, in more ways than he could count. He loved your smile, as well as the various other expressions you pulled, whether snarky or appalled or excited; he loved the way you laughed, even when you complained it sounded vaguely seal like at some points and like you were dying at others; he loved your every mood and whim, no matter how silly or reckless. He loved when you had a temper and when you showed more restraint than he did, he loved when you acted like a character you’d just read about and he loved when you later got embarrassed by it and begged him to forget it. The list went on and on and on, so many things did he love about you. Most of all he loved that you never seemed in a hurry, not that any of the others had, but the boundaries had shifted quite a bit this time.

So what had begun not so much as flirtation but as awkward friendship blossomed into something more, and Kaeya knew it. Not that there was any proper confirmation, but really was there a need? He told himself that the idea was ridiculous, no need to make things official. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kaeya had changed much at all. Indeed he’d done quite the opposite, determined not to let things shift in the way you two interacted.

Of course he’d excused his actions. After all, though the knight had many contradictory opinions of himself, of his actions, of his past, but they tended towards the negative. He was evil, he was cruel, a shameless opportunist and a failure even in that. Most importantly, in regards to the matter at hand, Kaeya tended to think that he was in no position to enjoy a proper and serious relationship; it wasn’t in him. He’d only bring disaster upon his head and upon the heads of those he loved. How could he let it happen?

That were what he told himself, what again and again he drilled it into his mind. And he ignored the small part of him that told himself it wasn’t any of that, the part which jeered that, if he were altogether truthful, the reason for a lack of meaningful reciprocation ultimately lay in the overwhelming fear he kept buried deep within himself. The fear of telling others about himself. About his actions, his opinions, his morality. The unpolished and deeply irritating bits that even Kaeya couldn’t stand.

But that was buried under too many layers of denial to play into what he was doing, and Kaeya had thoroughly convinced himself that his actions were for the good of everyone, yourself included. So the charade continue, with you saying more and more and Kaeya saying altogether nothing of consequence at all.

“Kaeya, what do you think of me?” You asked one day. It was a summer afternoon, the lazy kind, when all seemed static and half asleep. Kaeya was one of those things, and jolted to full wakefulness, surprised and ill at ease by the sudden question. You didn’t look at all upset, though maybe a bit bashful. The blush that dusted your cheeks and nose was the cutest thing, and if he weren’t so utterly afraid Kaeya might’ve wanted to tease you a bit, and see said blush grow a little bit deeper.

“What do you mean? You’re my fine adventuring friend.” He said, trying to relax once more, hoping the initial jolt of shock hadn’t been evident. It was hard to keep alert at all times around you, especially in what had just been such a relaxing atmosphere. But he had to keep calm and steady, suave as always. Who knows what might happen if not?

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” you began, cadence becoming a little slower, “I’m very glad to hear that. But, well, I was sort of wondering… if it might be a bit… different than that.”

“Is this a sudden confession?” Kaeya asked, tone light and playful.

“No!” You blurted out, gaze dropping. You started tearing at the grass slightly, but the action didn’t worry Kaeya too much. If it wasn’t a confession then it’d be easy enough to sneak out of, and then you two might go back to enjoying the afternoon as usual.

“It’s just…” you continued, staring intently at the ground “it’s just that I want to know. I mean I’m sure it’s obvious how much I care about you, well and truly care about you. You’re my closest friend Kaeya, but you’re also more than that. You’re my confidante, the first person I go to talk to about, well, anything. I said this wasn’t a confession, and it isn’t. But I want to know where we are. And I want you to be honest, what do you think of me?”

You lifted your head up, gaze piercing through Kaeya’s soul. He felt nothing in that moment but terror, the feeling of the ground suddenly giving way below him. What was he to say? What could he say? What did he think of you, the question seemed so simple but Kaeya found he couldn’t answer it, not truthfully. What you meant to him, well you meant almost everything. Kaeya loved you, loved you so much. He wanted to tell you everything about him, wanted to learn everything about you. He wanted to hold you in his arms and listen forever to your voice, to the things you had to say. He wanted to bask in your presence, to drown in it. He loved you, and he knew you loved him too; but it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you what he wanted to say, what you wanted to hear. It was for your own good, and, Kaeya was realizing very quickly, the idea of doing so, of confessing himself, of laying his soul bare, was something so utterly and completely frightening.

“Like I said you’re my dear adventuring friend.” Kaeya managed to get out, hoping there was no streak of falsehood in his voice. Picking up some of the torn up grass he scattered it onto your head, causing a groan of annoyance. Laughing at his childishness Kaeya steered the conversation towards another topic, hoping the former one would never come up again.

It didn’t, but Kaeya still sensed a change. It was gradual enough, indeed it was so gradual he hardly noticed at first. But eventually the change became too great, and Kaeya felt a distinct sinking sensation the first time he’d passed you on the streets on Monstadt and you’d done little more than smile, instead of running up like you usually did to ask him where he was going and tease him about missing work, sure that he was up to no good.

The initial realization having passed a bunch of little things came to the sudden forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Come to think of it you two never met outside of work anymore; gone were the days it seemed when you two would go for a walk after having sandwiches together, both complaining about the others work and wondering when you might ever have a break.

Gone too was the familiarity in some ways. When you two spoke now there was a formality, a distance that seemed to have popped up. You no longer asked Kaeya about his brother, and in return he stopped asking you about your own family, uneasy by the sudden loss of intimacy, and unwilling to be the one to break the barrier.

As the weeks passed by and you grew more and more distant Kaeya grew more and more frantic. He found himself thinking incessantly about you, about what you were doing, where you were going, whether or not you’d ever smile at him the way you used to, if you’d blush again at his teasing. A small piece of him knew that it was his own fault, and knew that it somehow connected back to the conversation you two had had in the summertime. But self-awareness doesn’t always mean change, and Kaeya still refused to do anything about it.

Then he started dreaming about you. He wasn’t sure why, you two saw each other less and less, and there was no reason for him to suddenly start these dreams, but somehow it’d happen. The dreams were mundane, painfully so. They were much like any other dream in content; the only difference being your presence. You were as before in his dreams, as if he’d somehow been able to rewind the clock, but only in his sleep. The two of you did this and that. You saved reckless Pallad, you rode Dvalin with the Traveller, you ran around the Winery, stealing glasses when no one was looking. Always you two were off, doing something completely normal, and always did Kaeya feel such joy that waking up felt rather like torture. He began to dread it, meeting you in his dreams. It felt painful, so very painful, as if he were betraying himself, as if he were betraying you too in some way. He shouldn’t’ve been dreaming of you, and yet he kept right at it, as if his mind were somehow unable to let go.

After three weeks of not seeing you Kaeya relented. He couldn’t go on like this, not one more moment. His work was becoming sloppier and sloppier, and he felt as if he hadn’t slept in years. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, so wretched from the whole situation that he felt like crying out of frustration. In the dark there was no one to pretend to, and he found himself staring at the curtained window, suddenly hit with his utter selfishness. He loved you, he loved you and you loved him, at least you had. And he’d thrown it all away, not out of any kindness or nobility, but out of his own fear, his own inability to be honest for even a moment. It was his fault that this was all happening, and as such he had to make amends.

He found himself at what had been your normal after-work meeting spot, leaning against a squat sort of maple tree. It was the perfect meeting place, far enough from the city to be picturesque, but close enough not to be a trip. Now Kaeya waited, praying to Barbatos that you might, by some miracle, appear.

Evidently the Anemo Archon was in a somewhat favorable mood, that or Kaeya was simply lucky, for he spotted you about fifteen minutes later, walking leisurely towards the tree. You weren’t truly paying attention to your destination, instead glancing in the direction of Cider Lake, expression slightly clouded. Turning your head you stopped dead in your tracks, shaking your head slightly, as if you truly couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

“I…have something to say.” Kaeya began, not altogether sure what that was. Once he’d come to the conclusion that he was the source of the whole problem it became evident that the only was to solve such a thing was through honesty. But it had been so long since Kaeya had been honest, really truly honest, and he now felt awkward and slightly shaky, as if learning to walk all over again.

“What is it?” Your tone, though surprised, held no hostility in it, instead it seemed vaguely curious. The thought gave Kaeya a bit of strength, and he drew himself up a little more, determined to see this through no matter what.

“I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you. I haven’t… haven’t been honest. I think you realized that, indeed I think you realized it long before I did. But, now that I’ve realized it I want to say I’m so deeply sorry.” He paused for a moment, not sure how to continue on. “Do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you?” He finally asked.

“Of course I do.” You smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “You said I was your friend.”

“Well I was lying.” Kaeya’s voice was blunt, the flirtatious tone that he usually put on nowhere to be found. “In truth you mean so much to me, so much more than I could put into words. You said that you weren’t making a confession, but I am. I like you, no, I love you. You mean more to me than everything, than my past, than my work as a knight, than my shame I carry in regards to my brother. Being around you is like soaking in the sun, or gazing at the moon, and I took it for granted. I took your entire presence for granted, and I understand why you felt the need to distance yourself. Our friendship was built on dishonesty, all because I was afraid. I am afraid still, so very afraid, but I find what I fear more than telling you all of this is never having the opportunity to. You’d don’t have to reciprocate, don’t have to approve of anything I just said. But if there’s any little bit of you that felt as you did this summer I want to apologize to it, and tell you I feel the same.”

The silence was deafening, oppressive. For once Kaeya found he couldn’t keep your gaze; his entire affect, his personality, it was all gone, and what was left was raw and badly kept. Shifting his gaze towards the lake he held his breath and waited for your answer.

He felt your fingers glance his. Snapping his head towards where you were he searched your face for something that might reveal what you were thinking, but you quickly looked at the ground.

“Thank you.” Your voice was no more than a whisper, but to Kaeya it was a lifeline, the fact that he was able to hear your voice once more. “Thank you for being honest.” You slipped your hand into his. “And to answer your unsaid question, I do feel the same way I did when I asked you before. And this too is now a confession, or rather an assent. I love you Kaeya, I’ve never stopped loving you. And though I may still feel a bit hurt by your lack of honesty then, I only ask you this,” you finally moved to look him in the eyes, your gaze misted over by hope and joy and a hint of sorrow, “will you be honest with me now?”

“Until the day I die.” Kaeya breathed out.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You replied, dropping his hand and flinging your arms around his neck.

Kaeya immediately wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “Thank you” he whispered, over and over again. The fear that had once filled his mind was no more, instead he felt as if he were floating, kept tethered to reality only by your embrace. He was relieved, but more so he was happy, so unbelievably happy. You’d given him a chance he’d never give himself; you’d opened your life back up to him, and now you two might never have to be separated again, not truly anyways.

 “Want to know something?” Kaeya asked, tone playful, as you two walked back to Monstadt, hands linked.”

“What?” You asked, slightly curious. Kaeya smiled, before leaning over and giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He whispered against your skin. And he meant it. With his whole heart he meant it.

[ultimately-mediocre]

hewwo, could you please write fluff for uhhhhhh nagito ig? idk i just want to make a request :) maybe a date at the fair or smth?

ty for sending in a request! and I’m always a sucker for Nagito so ty for that too hfhfhf I did end up diverging a bit from the date idea so lemme know if you’d like me to try again! Hope ya like it!

*Note: this is probably a bit canon divergent as it involves the 4th island but Nagito hasn’t yet received the monokuma files. Or you can just imagine it takes place in the Island Mode if you prefer :)

———

Nagito x Reader Fluff -

Your feet hit the ground faster than your mind could keep up with. You needed to get to Nagito’s cottage as fast as possible, the idea of wasting time made your stomach churn.

He was supposed to have met you at Nezumi Castle nearly an hour ago now. The two of you were planning on exploring the new island together, but he had never shown.

You didn’t want to think about why he hadn’t shown up, especially not with the way things were on the island. The only thing you could do to keep those worries at bay was focus on the sound of your feet hitting the wooden deck beneath you, and silently pray that you wouldn’t hear an announcement ring out.

Knocking was the last thing on your mind as you finally reached his door, pushing it open as fast as you could manage. Your eyes darted around the room frantically. Everything in you was prepared to scream for help at the first sign of trouble, until you found him. And you finally let yourself stop.

He was sat down on the floor, his back against the wall near his bed, with his legs drawn in close to his chest. He looked like he’d been snapped out of a daze by the sound of the door slamming open. He stared up at you with startled eyes while you caught your breath in the doorway.

“Why are-“

“Thank god you’re alright.” You cut his question off, closing the door behind you as you moved to go sit in front of him.

“I was worried sick, I had no idea where you were, I had no idea if you were even....,” you trailed off for a moment, not wanting to admit the fears you had. Saying them made the weight of them too real.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He furrowed his brow slightly, looking a bit lost as to why you seemed so distressed.

“Why wouldn’t I be- oh,” realization hit him quickly, and his eyes shot over to the clock on the wall, he had lost track of time.

“I’m so sorry I... I didn’t mean to keep you waiting like that,” his apology came out frantically, like he was worried you’d leave before he could get it out.

“You shouldn’t have even come to check on me. For scum like me to leave someone like you waiting.... and after you were nice enough to give me your time in the first place? All because I was too wrapped up in my own self pity. How disgusting. I don’t-“

You cut him off again, not wanting to let him get too far into a self loathing spiral. You frowned slightly, and reached a hand up to place it on the side of his face, gently brushing aside the hair that had fallen into his eyes as you did so. Your thumb rubbed his cheek softly in an attempt to calm him.

“Not scum.” You stated simply, something you made point to remind him anytime he got like this.

He froze for a moment, consistently caught off guard by the affection, no matter how many times you had given it before.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself the privilege of leaning into your touch and smiling softly.

“....Not scum.” He repeated the affirmation back to you after a few seconds of hesitation.

It was small grounding technique the two of you had come to use often in these situations. It didn’t always work, but the reassurance was still nice.

“I am sorry though. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” He mumbled, opening his eyes to look at you again.

“It’s alright.” You used your hand to push the remaining hair out of his face, and moved to sit beside him with your back against the wall.

“Right now I’m more focused on whatever was stressing you out so much it made you lose track of time.”

Nagito sighed as you rested your head on top of his shoulder, looking down at you nervously. It was like he was worried if he told you, you’d pop out of existence.

“It’s just... things have been good lately. You’ve been so kind to me, even though I don’t deserve it. You make me... happy. And I can’t help but think about how lucky I am that you even care about someone like me.”

He paused for a moment. Seemingly unaware at how much you had begun to blush hearing him say that, as he hugged his knees closer to his chest.

“And knowing how lucky I am... it just makes me know how much it’s going to hurt when that luck turns. Even if I know eventually something beautiful will come of it... the idea of seeing you in such despair is.... unnerving.”

He met your eyes nervously, worried he was upsetting you.

You gave him a small nod, encouraging him to go on, so he did.

“When you asked me to come with you to the new island today I couldn’t help but think of all the ways it could go wrong.”

You noticed him picking at his nails nervously, and reached down to lace your fingers between his.

“I’m not going to leave you Nagito. I promise.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze to distract him as you spoke.

“Your luck isn’t the thing that’s making me stay with you. I’m here because I care about you. I made that choice myself, and I can handle whatever consequences that come because of it.”

He frowned a bit, and lowered his head to rest it on yours.

“But you don’t know that. The possibilities of something going wrong are endless. You shouldn’t have to suffer, not because of me. There’s nothing to be gained from that.”

You sighed softly, you knew he was trying. He didn’t mean to be contradictory, he just needed things to make sense. Nagito’s mind worked off of rationalizations, and you knew his lack of coherence when it came to you worried him.

You moved your head up, and he followed suit. The two of you shifted so you could look each other in the eyes.

“You’re right,” you started gently, “there are endless ways that things could go wrong. But that just means there’s endless ways that they could go right, too.”

You leaned your forehead against his as he thought.

“And I’ve decided that whichever cards we end up being dealt, I won’t regret having chosen you.”

He pressed his forehead further against yours, as if he was trying to share his thoughts with you that way.

“But what if-“

“No what if’s.” You shook your head slightly.

“No hypotheticals. Not right now. We’re safe right now. We can be happy right now. And there’s a chance we always will be.”

He furrowed his brow, trying his best to understand how you could be so casual about this.

He had expected you to be more upset. He had expected to be the one trying to comfort you, though he didn’t expect to be good at it.

You moved to hold his face with both of your hands, and rubbed your thumbs gently over his cheeks once again.

“Don’t worry too much Nagito.”

You pressed a soft kiss onto his forehead.

“Just remember how good things can be. Just have hope.”

He smiled at your words, and lifted his head to kiss your forehead in return.

“Of course.” He said simply, before gently pulling you onto his lap and into a tight hug.