#but he can go for far longer than the average human can without them.

[bluegiragi]

limitations (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Vampire König Headcanons

Warnings: Nondescript Depictions/Implications of Smut, Territorial König, Jealous König, Dominant König, Submissive König, Domestic König <3, Marking, Consensual Dub-Con, Restraints, Abuse of Vampire Powers, Feeding, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Injuries, König using Urban Dictionary, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

So domestic that it hurts.

6’10 military vampire boyfriend in a pink frilly kitchen apron that says ‘Love, Peace and Hope’ on the front of it >>>>

Seriously, though, he’s the most caring of his kind (if you exclude Simon) and is so gentle and loving that you could scarcely believe what he was until he showed you his fangs and his abilities.

Don’t be fooled by his kind nature, though; he’s given you more protection than you’ll ever need with his scary dog privileges. Ones which ward off humans and other supernaturals alike.

And, given how tall he is, you don’t see the death stares he gives to bystanders; all you see is a path being cleared in front of you, people scrambling out of your way in what you may construe as consideration. Or terror.

Speaking of König’s gargantuan proportions, he needs more blood to survive than the average vampire. More than you, or any other human, can possibly provide.

Luckily, he only feeds from animals. Mostly.

Their taste is not as exquisite as human blood, not being as clean by comparison (particularly in pests, like rats), but he makes do. Especially when it’s for your own safety; to protect you from his blood rage when he hits a draught.

But, regardless of his masterful self-control, there comes a point where his palette can no longer stand the taste of disease and death in his blood supply, his thirst becoming so dire that he needs human blood. Now.

The first time you saw him like this, you panicked, asked what was wrong.

He told you he was fine as he gripped the kitchen counter, crushing the marble – that he just needed to go to sleep, giving a vague smile and no explanation.

It was only after being grilled and your concern melting his resolve that König’s resolution gave out, and he confessed his greatest shame. His strongest vice.

And, without knowing how dangerous he could get while feeding, you, in all your kindness and virtue, offered yourself to him.

“I know it’s not much, but I can try to find you something else for you, too !”

Never has a human who has known of his true nature been so selfless as to put their life on the line for his own survival.

Long story short, he eventually caved to your generosity and, when he tasted your blood, knew there was no finer delicacy he could tear from any planet in any universe.

You are the only one for him.

In return, he’ll try to cook and care for you. And, surprisingly, he’s pretty good at it !

Has all your favourite dishes memorised. Whether you told him or not.

He tries not to use his mind reading abilities on you, though sometimes, it slips out, hence he knows so much about you despite you never having uttered the specifics to him.

Whenever he’s feeling fragile (jealous) about you liking an actor or a character you’re watching, he’ll use his powers to ever so slightly see what you’d like to do with them.

Or what you’d like them to do to you.

This often leads to some very specific practices occurring in the bedroom.

When König is feeling particularly dominant, he tends to get quite…forceful.

All within the realm of consent, of course.

This side of him is typically triggered by jealousy, though it is not a punishment.

Far from it.

This is your reward for being so loyal – so disinterested in the advances of others, whether supernatural or otherwise.

“Say that you’re mine,” König growls, his fangs slick and protruding against your throat, coated in saliva, as if he were rabid. The weight of spectral chains forcing your body to be still and subservient is heavy upon your mortal vessel.

His hands have torn through your underwear, your only barrier against the merciless ecstasy you will be subject to on this night.

“Or you won’t leave this night unscathed.”

Consensual dub-con and restraints <333 !!1!

Fr though, König would never use his telekinesis on you unless you expressly asked him to, because, unlike many of his kind, he’s got a human side.

One which he only shows to you.

This much is apparent when he puts himself in your hands and gives himself to you in his entirety.

Becomes the antithesis of the typical bloodthirsty, cynical, overlord vampire stereotype when he’s feeling submissive.

The type to say “Please, Darling,” when he needs you to touch him.

Pull on his hair and he’s D E C E A S E D (more so than he already is).

He’s been touch-starved his entire mortal and immortal life, never having found someone special enough to make him feel comfortable, so his imploring for you to touch him is, whether you know it or not, a big honour – and a commitment for König.

Speaking of, he adores cuddles.

Both giving and receiving.

Not that you know this, but sometimes he intentionally crushes you into his chest between his pecs because once you called him your “Big tiddie himbo”, and it’s stuck with him since.

Plus, you also like to motorboat them sometimes.

Yeah, he had to go onto Urban Dictionary to find out what himbo meant. No, he did not delete his search history afterwards, so now you know his second greatest shame; his lack of fluency with modern terms.

Sometimes, you’ll drop random turns of phrase to see what his reaction will be; whether he’ll pretend to know what you’re saying or if he’ll submit and tell you he has no idea what he just said.

“König, you’re so rizzular, you know that ?”

“Uuuhhh…yeah ! You…too…?”

He does get a little insecure about it, but that’s nothing compared to how he feels whenever his friends come and visit.

Other vampires and supernaturals, naturally. And, regardless of their status, he’s always on the edge of his seat, wondering if you’ll take one look at them and decide to leave him in pursuit of another.

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to reassure him; König is dead set on his doomsday premonition (a panic attack he had while asleep once) that you’ll leave him.

“Köni, Baby,” you say, voice gentle as you cradle his head to your chest, sat bundled in amongst the blankets on the sofa. “I’m never leaving you. Even when I’m a ghost, I’m going to haunt you forever !”

He has thought about turning you, btw.

A LOT.

But he can never seem to find the right time to broach the subject; especially when you’ve told him how you have no interest in being immortal. At least, not yet.

“You’re only human once,” you tell him, smiling. And, somehow, König can feel his heart skipping a beat.

Until his friends leave, König puts on the facade of someone who has never felt an ounce of panic in his life.

Mad territorial.

Keeps you sat on his lap or tucked away in a hidden part of the house for the duration of his friends’ visit.

And God forbid if any of them try to touch you.

There have been many an occasion where you and König have been left cleaning up blood spatters soaked into your carpet and walls because König’s instincts kicked in, causing him to disarm whoever had been stupid enough to make physical contact with you.

Yeah, König feels bad that he ruined your new carpet, but would he do it all again to protect your honour ?

Absolutely.

Yeah, okay, sometimes he does intentionally mark you up the night before the guests arrive. Yes, he does hide any articles of clothing that could cover his love bites up.

“I just want them to know that you’re mine,” he tells you, almost whimpering, his eyes wide and almost tearful when you give him a narrowed look.

“König, you’re mauled off enough hands that they couldn’t un-know that we’re together even if they tried !”

And, at the end of the night, you’ll either be met with a very prideful König, whose powers you can feel weighing heavier on your shoulders by the minute. Or, puppy König, who comes bounding over to you, his eyes bright with nothing short of a lifetime’s adoration.

Either way, König wants you to know that you are thoroughly loved, and no measure of mortality, or time, or distance will ever change that. 

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[prentissluvr]

OKAY HERE ARE SOME SAM THOUGHTS BEFORE I CLEAN MY ROOM (some platonic but mostly romantic)

loves getting his hair played with (romantically and platonically)

main love language is quality time

could have this giant on his knees if you compliment constantly (his looks or his personality) (mainly his personality) (he knows and is aware of how conventionally attractive he is but isn’t cocky about it) (like another winchester LOL)

runs warmer than the average human being so he’s your personal heater in the winter

but in the summer you make sure he stays far away from you bc man sweats A LOT in his sleep 😭😭

I HAVE MORE BUT I GOTTA CLEAN MY ROOM

ILL BE BACK LATER WITH DEAN AND MORE SAM 🤭🤭

djhJHFSKDJ SAMMMMM AAA okay okay bear with me while i go absolutely insane LMAO. like this is long LOL so i am gonna add a cw for anyone who stumbles upon our time of feeding each others delusions <3 i got carried away ahahahaha hehehehehe i'm normal about him tho!

wc: 1.6K. cw: kissing, a bit of swearing, brief mention of things trying to kill you bc that's the life lol, unedited

⟢ playing with his hair : do NOT get me started on sam's hair <3 it's always so pretty, and you have to make that known! sure, you do it out loud, but we'll get to the complimenting in a bit hehe. your favorite way of making it known (and definitely his) is by playing with it. constantly. and he can never get enough. sure, he gets embarrassed or picky about it around dean, like he does with just about anything romantic or sweet (mostly because dean won't ever let that sort of thing go un-teased). but he just loves so much to lay his head in your lap and let you thread your fingers through that pretty brown hair <33 it makes him feel so relaxed, and cared for in a way that doesn't feel overbearing or overly obvious.

and he loves it especially it because he knows that you do. he can feel you physically relax from under him when you sweetly run your hands through his hair, gently pulling apart any small knots and taking your time to take care of that gorgeous head of hair. he will also certainly melt and try to hide the pink tint to his cheeks when you reach for his hair unexpectedly, like when you lean in to fix a fly-away strand or full on card your hands through his hair when he's in the middle of research and didn't notice you approach.

also!! put your hands in his hair when he's kissing you!!! please!!! he's begging on his knees!!! god, he loves that so so much and he gets a secret ego boost because, once again, he can physically feel how much you love it too. he'll always kiss you harder when your hands move to tangle themselves in his hair.

gets embarrassed if you put little braids in his hair, especially as he grows older and it grows longer, but he can't resist how much it makes you smile, so he lets you get away with it if dean isn't around. and just imagine putting pretty clips in his hair LOL he pouts and asks you to take them out immediately, but not before kissing the smug grin off of your lips. will die and try his hardest to delete them if you ever get pictures of him like that, but you keep your blackmail well protected hehe.

as for platonically, that is facts! he thinks its very sweet if you're his best friend or sibling! it's not as big a thing as it would be in a romantic relationship, but he'll love to have his hair played with by anyone willing <33

⟢ love language; quality time : this is like almost sad and especially sweet at the same time because the poor boy has no time to spend much quality time with you. but again, this kind of makes this whole thing sweeter because that means each moment is just that much more precious. obviously, he'd love to be spending quality time with you by going on dates in the park, taking you to a nice restaurant that's not too stuffy, or something even as simple as taking you to the movies. but those things are hard to do, so to him, any time spent with you without the presence of something trying to kill you can be turned into that precious quality time.

for him, it's about sitting on the couch with your legs strewn over him or his head on your lap or yours on his shoulder (really any sort of thing keeping him connected to you) as you pour over lore books. it's about the seamless exchange when the two of you figure out how to kill your monster or save the world together. it's about posing as fbi to get answers and slipping his hand into yours when no one's looking or grabbing a decent breakfast together before the start of a busy day. all he cares about, the things he treasures, are you falling asleep on him in the back of the impala because he gave up shotgun to sit next to you, taking months, maybe longer to get through one season of a tv show together, and always taking even just a small moment out of a busy day to be together.

⟢ complimenting him : it's true that he needs less assurance about his looks because he certainly is aware that he is fine as fuck. but let's definitely establish that he adores to hear praise about his looks specifically from you because duh! he's in love with you and you're the only one he cares about!!

but yeah, when you compliment his personality, his sweet, loving, courageous hot sometimes completely idiotic and frustrating self?? oh he's done for. he's honestly far less used to that. when you're half asleep, and you murmur into his chest that you think he's so smart, kind, funny, loving, and brave and that you couldn't be more proud to be his? he's complete mush in your arms, he can't believe it.

"that's all you, baby," he'll refute, and you'll certainly grow bashful under his compliment, but you want him to accept it, at least a little bit. "i mean it, sammy, i really do." your voice is all soft and sleepy, and oh so earnest that he can't help the aching of his heart. "i know you do," he'll whisper, suddenly emotional and not wanting you to hear it. "i'm just glad you think so. i'll always do my best to be those things for you," and that's the kind of thing he only admits when the sole light in the room comes from a dim, clouded over moon and your head is tucked under his chin so you can't see his face. he means it, of course, but he's not used to such vulnerability and blatant adoration.

he'll clench his jaw when you tell him you know that, but that it's true that he's all those things and more for so many people, the few close ones, and all the ones he passes by and does his best to save. he doesn't fully believe you, he's got a lot of guilt built up in that sweet mind of his. and it's true he's not perfect, but you never said that. all you're trying to tell him is that you love who he is, so much, and he can never thank you enough for that.

bonus, he really really loves when you tell him you think he's funny. it's definitely an ego booster, plus he loves loves loves to know that he can always make you smile and laugh.

⟢ your personal heater : this is literally sooo true. he's so big with so much body mass that he'd have so much body heat to give off. but i so agree that on top of that, he'd also totally be on the warmer side. if you're naturally warm as well, then you two are an unstoppable force in the winter time (the both of you are lulled to sleep by the other's body heat in a matter of minutes). either way, he'll always envelope you in hugs when it gets cold because he knows it'll warm you up right away. he doesn't have to ask to know when you're cold, because you'll always press yourself to him, maybe grabbing his arm and pulling it around yourself before even saying a thing to him.

"you cold?" he'll ask sweetly, and after feeling your nod and hearing your muffled "mhmm," he's quick to wrap his other arm around you too and pull you closer.

for the folks with cold hands like me, he's always trying to warm them up with his own. whether you've slipped your hand in to his just to be near and they're particularly chilly, or he can see you trying to warm your hands up yourself, he's quick to take up both of your hands in his to warm them up. when he grabs up both of your hands, he'll pull them to his chest and hold them there until he's satisfied they're warm. he'll look into your eyes and talk about something completely unrelated, all casual as if he's not making you flustered. other times, he'll warm up one hand at a time, encasing it in both of his own, rubbing it and blowing warm air on it before gently slipping it into his warm, warm pockets and moving on to the other.

also, if he finds out your face is cold, he'll cup your cheeks with his large, furnace hands or full on just pull your face into his head or neck to warm you up that way.

but yeah😭😭 summer can be a lot less pleasant. if you manage to have cold hands even in the summer (i could never i wish), he'll try to steal the coolness from your hands and you'll be like oh my god please stop i'll die LOL.

and you're like nooo babe of course i want to sleep with you, you just have to stay as far away as possible and never touch me because it might burn me to death. if he's tired and touch-starved younger sam will pout at you and tell you he just wants to cuddle. later seasons sam just won't take no for an answer and will just pull you to him until he gets too hot himself lmao. he'll make sure there's a fan on you first and a glass of ice water on your bedside. basically he loves that he's warm in the winter because it brings you closer to him, then gets pissed about it in the summer because you don't want him too close unless there's sufficient a/c or some other form of ventilation to make it cooler lol.

[theundeadsnake]

The types of people Eyeless Jack will go after for love, friendship and murder.

Love:

Jack tends to take strong interest in open minded people, since he himself is far from an average human being he knows that a lot of people will treat him differently. He doesn’t want a partner to be judge or apprehensive towards him because of his appearance or inhumane nature

At the same time, he enjoys spending time with intelligent people. While appearance and beauty do somewhat influence who he takes or doesn’t take interest in, personality is the most significant aspect of a person.

To him it is essential that his partner is independent and can spend time by themselves. He is a very busy man. He can’t be there for you, 24/7…. In all honesty he won’t be with you very often unless you start cohabitating and even then, the vast majority of his time will be dedicated towards working and learning.

Friendship:

His friend circle is strongly dictated by his line of work. He is a doctor at the Slender Mansion and no longer human, meaning that he can’t exactly interact with human people.

His deep interest in medicine and autonomy does make him a bit off putting to a lot of people. Some would call his interest an obsession and they would be right, Jack is a workaholic.

Some of his friends include Ben and Jane. His friendship with Ben stems mostly from trauma, while jack doesn’t remember the details of what happened, he does on an instinctual level experience deep discomfort around religious ceremonies and candles.

Jane on the other hand is one of the few inhabitants that has not fully lost herself to the madness, so her perspective on life is much closer to his than those of others.

Murder:

EJ does not usually kill his victims. Instead, he harvests them for things they can live without.

One of the factors that influence that is the where and when. If you enter his territory without his permission and come across his cabin, he will end you. If you encounter him while he is in a more feral state, your life will end. On the other hand, if he is fully in control of himself and you don’t pose him any harm. He will keep you alive and leave you to live your life.

While searching for food Jack tends to go after young adults, he avoids anyone who smells sickly or seems to have alcohol-related issues. Such food would be of no use to him anyways.

The demon inside him does not care for gender, race or age. It will tear apart anyone it can get its hands on.

Jack does his best to ensure that he is the one controlling his body as he does not enjoy killing others. He understands it to be a part of his life, thus it is necessary, however, he does not derive any joy from it.

[hersterical]

soul lore in Buffy is finally beginning to make sense in my head (give me a break, I didn’t watch the show until COVID and didn’t start taking part in the fandom until at least a year after that). A lot of this is basic stuff the fandom’s been saying for years, this is just to help get my thoughts in order before I fall asleep and lose the train of thought.

There are a few important elements but I think the two biggest ways the lack of a soul influences a vampire is 1. No moral compass and 2. No empathy (as we see mostly with Spike but a few others as well, they can have sympathy but no empathy). I also don’t get the impression that soulless vampires are capable of true, selfless love. Again looking at Spike, whenever he loves someone pre-soul it always felt possessive or like he wanted to be possessed by someone. Sure, he sincerely wanted certain people he cared about to be happy, but he didn’t want them to be happy just for the simple sake of them being happy. At best he wanted them to be happy because being around them makes him happy and it’s his happiness that truly mattered to him. So if there ever came a time where the happiness of the person he cared about didn’t make him happy anymore, then he wouldn’t care about their happiness. This is mostly based on Spike because he’s the vampire we have the most opportunity to understand while he doesn’t have a soul. To me it seems that all soulless vampires could be placed on a scale from Spike, who possesses the most amount of sympathy and derives the greatest amount of happiness from the happiness of others, to Angellus who doesn’t have a single ounce of sympathy and actively takes joy out of the misery of others. Most seem to tend closer towards Angellus’ end of the scale and I wanted to explore that a bit.

Before I do that though there are some important things of a more physiological nature that would influence vampires both with and without a soul. The first is that I’ve always gotten the impression that a vampire’s primal, predator instincts are more heightened and animalistic than humans. The way I see it there are two main explanations for this: 1. Those instincts come from the demon that possesses the body or 2. Something about becoming a vampire allows them to access the human’s dormant predatory instincts. I’m no evolutionary scientist so I can’t say how likely that second one is, but no matter what it’d be far from the hardest thing this show asks the viewers to suspend their disbelief for. The other thing about vampire physiology has just little enough evidence to support it that I would probably have to classify it as a headcanon. I am convinced that human blood is an addictive substance to vampires based on how secretly being fed Connor’s blood influenced Angel.

With all that said, I’d like to take this opportunity to explore the after-life span of an average Joe vampire.

Imagine you wake up and it is dark, cold and suffocating. But none of that bothers you because more than anything you are hungry. No living being has her possessed this great hunger that you are experiencing right now. Not even being capable of conscious thought at this point, you start clawing. Eventually you dig your way up to the surface where you either have your sire waiting for you, holding in their arms the greatest smelling meal you’ve ever smelt in your whole life, a human, or no one and you need to find something to eat yourself. Even if you find a small animal to eat that’s not enough to satiate your all consuming hunger. No matter what you’re going to get your first taste of human blood as a vampire that night. And it is the greatest thing you have ever tasted. Sure, you had to kill someone to get it, but you don’t care. As you finished eating and stared at the corpse of a human being whose heart is no longer beating because of you, the closest you get to regret, shame, or guilt is the surprise that you don’t feel any of those things.

That was the best thing you’ve ever experienced but you still don’t have a particular desire to kill people. You might even avoid it for a bit in order to avoid attention or out of habit. But even if you actively don’t want to kill another human for whatever reason, you can’t get the taste of their blood off your tongue. The thought of human blood consumes you every waking moment of your life, which is quite a bit considering you don’t need to sleep anymore. But whether it be in a day or a week or a year, you will kill another human. This time you do care. Not that they’re dead, no. But in that moment as you took their life force and made it your own, you have never felt more powerful or in control (ironic considering vampires actually tend to lose control while drinking human blood). Even with all of this great supernatural power you’ve been gifted with, nothing is as powerful as taking a human life. And the blood itself. It feels almost like your rapidly fading memories of warm sunlight on your skin, gentle instead of burning. You’ve never been particularly power hungry before so even though that part might be cool, it doesn’t hold a candle to the sensation of drinking blood. Whatever hesitation you might have had towards killing humans is now gone. But that still doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to though.

You go and visit your loved ones from when you were alive, but when you get there all you can think is how weak you were. How dull the life of a mortal is. How nice the warmth of the sun was on your skin. How it felt to be loved. How it felt to be willing to give your own life and happiness for the sake of someone else’s. It fills you with rage, disgust, and even jealousy for your old self. You take your power back and get rid of any reminders of who you used to be.

Time goes on. Decades pass. You feed, you travel, and you learn. And you grow bored. What was once an exciting after life is nothing but pure drudgery. Even the taste of human blood is becoming common after so long of living off nothing but that. What hasn’t gotten old is the chase. The hunt. That power you once got a taste of but didn’t particularly care for at the time is the only thing that can make you feel anything. Humans are no longer tasty little juice boxes, they’re your play things. The adrenaline from the hunt turns your hunger for blood, into a hunger for power over people.

Eventually the chase grows stale. It’s just too easy. You try to spice it up by toying with humans. Making them scream or beg. But it’s still not enough. That’s when you hear about it. A hellmouth. A slayer. Both together in the same place. One of the greatest sources of power for a demon alongside with the greatest challenge any vampire could hope to face. It’s more powerful than any siren call, how could you possibly resist. Sunnydale is waiting for you.

You get there and between the influence of the hellmouth and the group think of a ridiculous amount of vampires and other demons, it feels as exhilarating as the dance floor of a crowded nightclub. Which is funny because the local nightclub is where you do most of your feeding.

You lead your latest victim out into the back alley, and start feeding. You are once again growing bored even on a hellmouth with the prospect of facing a slayer. It’s just too easy. These are your thoughts when you hear someone clear their throat. This surprises you enough to pull you away from your meal to see a small, blonde girl who’s dressed for a night of dancing. Dessert. Except something’s off. She tilts her head and outs on a mock pout as she asks if she could just get one night off. You don’t like her attitude, her face looking far too smug for your taste, and her blood is singing out to you like no blood has ever done before. You feel almost as hungry as the night you crawled out of your grave. Tossing aside the barely alive human you were just feeding on, you eagerly lunge at the small woman.

She punches you in the face. Hard. You fall to the ground and scramble back up as quickly as possible as you’re filled with a sudden certainty. “Slayer!” You snarl with equal parts shock, anticipation, and fear.

“Is that part of the vampire handbook or something? You guys really gotta get some new material.” She says in response.

How dare she? The insolence! You’ve drained the life out of hundreds of humans before her. You are immortal. Invincible. And she just dismisses you like you’re nothing? She will learn. You are the night, you are fueled by the life-force you’ve been draining out of humans for decades. You’ve seen things this little girl couldn’t think up in her worst nightmares. You have purged yourself of all weaknesses and now you will obtain the greatest power any vampire could ever hope to possess, the blood of a slayer.

You run for her, your claws reaching for her.

You are immediately impaled. As you crumble to dust you hear the last words you’ll ever hear: a half-hearted quip about you not being the dance partner she was hoping for tonight.

[moonlitcomet]

A collection of some [not all] of SRC's Great and King elder dragons, being the most important ones in Cierian history. All of these dragons, except for Aeon, are members of functionally extinct species and are the last [or one of the last] of their kinds.

In some cultures, elder dragons are also referred to as titan dragons, hinting at their immense size compared to the average size of their known species. They are dragons who have lived many lifetimes,with the youngest one here [aside from Kosenta] being Sh'kavor at approximately 2,000 years old. Dragons marked in red in the following paragraphs are deceased, while dragons marked in green are still alive.

Mustora is considered the most famous of all elder dragons, let alone the mighty King Elder Dragons. She is the one responsible for the calamity that wiped out 40% of organic life during the dragon war. After her destructive rampage, she went dormant for thousands of years, the only remnant of her existence being the scar she left on the eastern continent and the Boiling Range that protected her resting place. Nowadays, Mustora has passed away after the birth of her single offspring, Kosenta.

Kosenta, roughly translating to "little god" in Draconic, is an infant of Mustora's species that is currently under care at Filokensia National Park. Being raised by stickmen and other more sociable dragons has the environmentalists in hope that Kosenta, when she is fully grown, will choose to protect the world rather than destroy it.

Emper is a cruel and vile elder dragon who is over 7,000 years old, and also the smallest adult one here. He holds great resentment for humanity, choosing to disguise as a stickman to protect himself and his kingdom. He resides on Skoteinó Island, north of The Dojo, where he is king of a small but self-sufficient population that serves him and him only.

He is known for his manipulative and aggressive tactics that keep him in power, and has been noted to have many soulbound servants to his name. While he is an elder dragon, few know his true identity, and those who do rarely keep their ability to talk about it.

Sh'kavor is the great elder dragon of the deep seas, who watches over the oceans he resides in. He has chosen Professor Valor as his patron caregiver and romantic partner, with her being the determined mother of his two children, Chulluk and Kashta. Sh'kavor is known to be shy to anyone who isn't Valor, and rarely surfaces except to visit her.

Deep underneath the surface where he lives, he is the lord of a society composed entirely of draconian merfolk and deep sea dragons. Little is known about the society due to humanity's inability to reach that far down and deep sea dragonkind being unable to surface without the resulting pressure changes killing them.

Su'tuun is a kind and hospitable King Elder Dragon who calls Magmus Ridge his home. He is rarely seen as well, though it is due to the fact that Magmus Ridge itself is near inhospitable to humanity and not due to his own shyness. When he is visited by anyone, he is known to be extremely kind and willing to talk for hours on end.

Due to his kindness, however, he is also known to be a bit of a coward and will refuse all combat in favor of protecting himself. Somehow, that has earned him the favor of several irritable dragons, including Galactus.

Galactus is a dragon of legend. While he is no longer on Cier's ball of rock, and instead out wandering space, he has left a large and permanent scar on Cier's history. Not only did he destroy the Kuduvens, now known as The Lost Kingdom, he was also the one who kickstarted the great dragon war. Mustora chased him off of Cier, and he has not returned since. The death of Mustora makes the ever-present threat of Galactus's return much more terrifying, though.

Galactus can warp space around him, going anywhere he pleases in the visible galaxy. There are rumors that he is an alien from deep space in the first place, but the long-forgotten truth is that he is a dragon that came from Cier itself. He is capable of harnessing purifying light beams with the same destructive power that killed nearly half of Cierian life, and somewhere deep in space it is likely that he is terrorizing other alien planets for the sake of his own amusement.

Aeon was a dragon known for her strict and seemingly contradictory self-image, having a reputation of cursing those who dared offend her presence. She was a chronowyrm, a member of the only species on Cier that can [or at least, is allowed to] harness time manipulation. She was known to all as the Timekeeper of Cier, protecting timelines from those who were trying to abuse them. She and her Chronowyrm kin all exclusively live in The Veil and the Eye of Chronos, a mysterious and poorly-explored area that is said to mess with the mind and sanity of those exploring.

Aeon is now sufficiently deceased and the role of Timekeeper has been taken by her successor, one of her many dozens of children. While chronowyrms are effectively immortal and do not die from age [as it comes with being tied to time], they are susceptible to physical damage and she was killed by a vengeful Aukkora, assisted by the alien dragon Ellyra, the Godhunter.

The Unknown Ice Dragon is a mysterious figure located deep in Nieran ice caves. This dragon was killed by ancient magic known as Dragonsbane, and its frozen corpse remains locked in a stasis state with hundreds of smaller dragons living on and around it. This dragon is the biggest known King Elder Dragon to ever exist, though little else is known about it- what does get passed around is no more than legend. The name given to the corpse by the dragons who live around it appears to be Juanadaar, roughly meaning "old king".

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Simon Petrikov & Marceline

Summary: Simon stood in the corner of the cold, sterile room, tears silently streaming down his face. He felt like a monster, he didn't want to hurt anyone. All he wanted was for the gnawing hunger to go away. He knew he didn't think clearly in those moments, his instincts taking over, but the guilt and despair he felt were overwhelming. He exhaled sharply, the rush of emotions making his head hurt.

Warnings: OKAY GUYS TW!!

This chapter will contain stabbing, a lot of blood and a person’s death. Please do not read it if you can’t handle this kind of things.

Noah led Betty into a small, dimly lit room, where he offered her a cup of coffee. Betty didn't take it, and her hesitation was clear and Noah understood her unease and set the coffee aside. Betty finally voiced the question that had been nagging at her since she discovered Noah's true identity. "So you aren't a librarian?"

Noah chuckled softly, "If somebody asks, I am one. Not a vampire hunter. We maintain a low profile for a reason."

Betty couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all and asked, "Since when are you even doing this?"

Noah sighed and began to explain, "Not long after I finished high school. My whole family were vampire hunters. It's a legacy I couldn't escape, and when I saw the darkness that vampires could bring, I decided to follow in their footsteps. It's a life filled with risks, but it's the only way we can keep people safe from these supernatural threats."

Betty blinked in surprise, but decided to drop the subject since her mind was solely focused on Simon.

Betty couldn't ignore the pressing matter any longer. "So about Simon..." she began, her voice laced with concern. "Why is he exactly held here?"

Noah inhaled sharply, knowing that this conversation was inevitable. "We call them newborns vampires, as you heard my superior call Simon. They are harder to manage, and it's more difficult for them to control their instincts. It's essential that he doesn't gain a taste for human blood, so he doesn't become dangerous."

Betty's eyes widened at the implication, and she asked with trepidation, "Did he... did he kill someone?”

Noah hesitated but then lied, "No, he didn't. But he did bite someone, and it takes some time to make him actually like animal blood."

Betty's eyes bore into Noah's as she pressed further. "But he's not held here just for that, right?"

Noah knew that it wasn’t really time to share more of the complex truth, even if it might raise more questions than answers. "Well, no. Look, Betty, it's complicated."

Betty leaned in her chair, determination and curiosity etched on her face. "I've got nothing but time," she said, her unwavering commitment to understanding Simon's situation shining through.

Noah sighed and continued, "The problem with turned vampires is that they could lose their humanity."

Betty furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean?”

Noah continued, "The ones that are born as vampires are born with their nature, so they don't lose their humanity because they were supposed to be vampires. However, when a human is turned into a vampire, it becomes more complicated because they weren't originally meant to be one. It's a constant struggle for them to maintain their human side, and it's why we have to be so careful with Simon right now."

“I don’t—“

Noah's expression turned more serious as he interrupted her, "At some point, turned vampires can even lose or turn off their emotions. It's a side effect of the transformation, and it's one of the reasons why we're so vigilant in keeping them from going down that path.”

Betty leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "So what are these vampires even called?"

“Rippers. Unlike the average vampire, the enjoyment of hunting and terrorizing humans are far more entertaining to rippers, as they destroy the lives and sever the limbs of humans without hesitation or remorse.”

Betty's eyes widened with concern as she asked, "So they like to kill?"

Noah let out a bitter scoff. "They adore it. And that's the scary part, isn't it?”

Simon found himself in that stark, white room, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights again, his gaze fixated on his trembling hands. He barely looked up when the woman entered, along with a guard. The woman's voice pierced the silence.

"When was your last meal?" she asked as usual, a hint of cruelty in her tone.

Simon's voice was barely a whisper as he replied, "Yesterday."

The woman chuckled in a chilling manner. "Perfect."

With a cold and calculated motion, she took a knife and Simon already knew what was coming. She needed him to be more vulnerable since vampires relied on blood to heal. Simon didn’t move as needle-sharp bolts shot through his ribs, his teeth clenching so hard his jaw ached. His body trembled and sweat dripped down his forehead as he groaned. When he inhaled, another flash of pain had him seeing double as his head throbbed and his abdomen felt like it had been cut in two. Maybe it was. He was clutching his injured side as his vision blackened a bit and waves of agony seared through his body again.

The woman then turned to the guard, took his palm, and made a deep cut, blood dripping onto the pristine white floor. She watched Simon's reaction closely. In the past, he would have attacked immediately, but this time, he was holding his injured side, breathing heavily, his claws extended, fangs exposed, and his eyes glowing red.

The woman asked again, "Do you want to drink from him?"

Simon grunted through clenched teeth, his self-control impressive given the circumstances. "..No."

The woman's voice was taunting as she leaned closer to Simon, taking the hand of the guard in hers. She asked once more, "Are you sure?"

Simon closed his eyes, the scent of the guard's blood making his mouth water, but he fought against his instincts and replied with effort, "I'm sure."

The woman smirked and instructed the guard to leave. Another guard entered the room, holding a bag of animal blood. He threw it in Simon's direction, and in a heartbeat, the vampire in him took over. Simon seized the bag and, like a wild animal, pierced it with his fangs, drinking the blood in a frenzy. Once he had drained the bag, he heard the woman's voice, dripping with sarcasm. "I was going to say well done, but you're still feral Petrikov.”

Simon, overwhelmed with frustration and anger, insulted her “чертова шлюха” his words sharp and biting. However, the woman simply raised an eyebrow, showing no reaction to his outburst.

She turned to leave the room, her words cold and calculated. "I'm doing this for you to get better. We don't want you to try to put them back together again, the pieces of that human, I mean."

Simon snapped in protest, "That's not what happened."

But the woman just chuckled and locked the door with a simple touch of her finger, leaving Simon in the sterile room, alone with his thoughts again. That’s not what happened.

His throat burned with thirst, hunger was like an intrusive thought: something unpleasant, unwelcome and involuntary for a newly turned vampire which invaded his mind again and again.

There was a tipsy man and he sensed something behind him the moment Simon descended to the sidewalk. He whirled around in confusion and alarm. He was scared, and his mind craved to know what danger had seemingly fallen from the sky.

Then he spotted Simon’s full body silhouette, by now, he was panicking. His hands were trembling and his heart was pounding as he started to jog. After a while, when nothing more happened, the man slowed down to a walk. Just as he thought maybe he'd imagined those things. Suddenly, there was a chuckle from behind him.

He turned around to see a tall man smirking at him. He had long, black hair and, he was horrified to see, dangerous, blood red eyes.

Simon cocked his head to the side and studied the man.

“Fuck off man!" He whirled around in the other direction and ran as fast as he could.

The man looked back to see where Simon was and saw no one. He thought he had lost him but as he turned around, there Simon stood, about three metres in front of him. Suddenly an ice-cold hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him into the alley’s wall.

Simon slammed the man's face against the trunk of the tree, crushing the man's nose that it broke and blood dripped everywhere. Simon spun him around to face him and pushed his back into the tree. The man looked up at Simon and saw a hungry glint in his eye.

“Please let me go!” He pleaded. Simon didn’t care, the scent of blood was all too consuming. Instead he opened his mouth to reveal two sharp, white fangs. The man screamed and Simon grabbed his hair and pulled the man's head back, exposing his neck. Simon then leaned in, the man cried out for help as agonising pain punctured his carotids.

Simon’s first victim took a deep, rib-cracking breath and howled out, "Help! Somebody please!"

There was nothing but silence to greet his cries.

Simon groaned as his thirst was quenched while the man began to limp. What remained of his humanity stopped him from sucking the man dry. Simon stepped back when he regained his senses but it was mostly guilt.

He ran back to the man and applied pressure on his neck to stop the bleeding, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Simon stood in the corner of the cold, sterile room, tears silently streaming down his face. He felt like a monster, he didn't want to hurt anyone. All he wanted was for the gnawing hunger to go away. He knew he didn't think clearly in those moments, his instincts taking over, but the guilt and despair he felt were overwhelming. He exhaled sharply, the rush of emotions making his head hurt.

His body was fully healed, from the injuries he had sustained, and he could feel the strength returning to his limbs, but his mind felt broken. Simon leaned his head against the cold, white wall, finding a fleeting moment of respite.

Simon allowed himself to believe, even if just for a moment, that everything was going to be okay. He desperately clung to that hope.

Notes: Hope you guys enjoyed this lmao 😜 As usual, if you guys have any ideas or want to change something in this chapter I will hear you out. Still trying to make Simon and Betty’s past somehow more angsty (even if we do go a bit far from the canon which I desperately hope you guys don’t mind).

Next chapter will be with Marcy and Simon, but it’s going to take awhile since I have some important tests this week, but after that I’m back at it.😎

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[erose-this-name]

Eka sa Kirra

This is Eka sa Kirra, she is a completely average female for her species.

She’s a Rherra, a warlike carnivorous species of human with greatly reduced sexual dimorphism. Basically "cowboy samurai yaoi orcs". They aren’t inherently evil, though.

Non-Rherric people confuse Eka for a male all the time, because... Y'know. They don't get pheromones I guess. She thinks it's really weird how much 'softskins' obsess over gender roles and pronouns in normal conversation. From her cultural perspective, your sex only amounts to having a ponis or vag (the only meaningful difference between male and female Rherra) and they don't really have a concept of cultural gender. So she doesn't really understand other species like Sapiens that do have genders.

Tig Skulzen (another character of mine) really likes Eka for this, as Eka doesn't treat her any differently than she does anyone else. Eka taught Tig that being a skinbearer or a fighter doesn't need to be bound up in gender roles or societal expectations. Because as far as Eka is concerned, Tig talking or acting femininely is just Tig being a Sapien, and Sapiens do a lot of weird things (like eating plants). Eka just doesn't question it.

Eka sa Kirra is an adventurer. Basically, it's where young Rherra go out into the world to hunt monsters and work as mercenaries. Because having battlescars and tales of heroic deeds is the Rherric equivalent of driving a lambo and making six figures in terms of getting bitches. Masculine bitches.

Eka had a masculine bitch, but then she lost him. She's currently on a self-destructive redemption quest because of that. She tends to bottle up her emotions very unhealthily, since her culture is a toxic masculinity feedback loops with nothing to balance it out.

Fun Fact: Melanistic scar tissue (scars turning black) is a common trait in some American Rherric ethnic groups. People without that trait in those cultures often tattoo their scars black since it's considered so attractive. Eka is very proud of most of her scars.

Fun Fact: Eka only 'prefers' she/her pronouns because she has a vagina and thinks that's what that means. She doesn't understand the concept of 'gender' or 'identity'. If she did, she'd probably prefer he/him. She rarely corrects people on it, since she thinks it's silly anyways.

Fun Fact: I mostly just draw female Rherra as "man" from the waist up and "woman" from the waist down then give them mouths full of sharp teeth. I used to imagined them with fur and digitigrade legs, but eh. Didn't wanna draw it. Some Rherra ethnicities have very thick body hair though.

Fun Fact: Female Rherra are actually slightly bigger and stronger than the males on average, much of which comes from longer legs and metabolism. They only grow breasts while lactating which then shrink back down after. You know, like literally every other mammal except homo sapiens.

Fun Fact: the vast, vast majority of Rherric purebloods have "masculine" gender identity, and are exclusively androphilic (masculine attracted), regardless of sex.

So gay relationships are pretty common, which doesn't really impact birth rates too much because surrogates / marrying specifically for children. The fact they can only eat meat is however a very significant population limiter.

"Queer" Rherra (with "feminine" identity/feminine attracted, etc) exist but are virtually unknown, and are usually assumed to be hybrids.

[unearthlyfromage]

Une's Nonsensical Ramblings Episode 3;

Blind Faith

Oh, oh this AU. How wonderfully fucked up.

First, lets take the basics of this and explain it out. Stan and Ford go through the portal together, during the fight between them Stan still gets branded, is still injured, and both are still pretty pissed all things considered. And Ford blinds Stan with a blindfold (eventually permanently blinding him) for the purpose of protecting his mind. One thing I've never quite understood about that is;

Why is Stan blinded?

It seems counterintuitive, doesn't it? To rob the stronger of the two of sight, thus making him impaired and unable to properly use his more apt strength. Ford, regardless of mental state, would be able to see that blinding his only help in this situation would only be a set back.

Unless he was tricked into believing that weren't the case, of course. Perhaps Bill, after the incident with Fiddleford catching a glimpse, convinced Ford that only he was able to perceive the contents of the other side without extreme consequence (such as acute insanity, etc.)? That allowing Bill into his mind and body gave him the capability to withstand the horrors that lay beyond. Playing into Ford's lone wolf complex, as well as building onto his insecurity born mindset of being far too different from the average man to be one with the general populace, Bill weaves a narrative that only Ford can enter through and stay sane (at least, stay sane longer than the average human) - maybe as a means to stop Ford from allowing anyone else through, anyone else that could see his true plans. Easier to deal with the human you've already bent around your claw than a human you don't know.

Armed with this narrative where Ford had it drilled into his head that Stan catching even a seconds worth he would, just like Fiddleford, start to go mad, it makes the blinding far more reasonable. Yes, Stan is not nearly as able and independent in a blindfolded state, but the sanctity of his mind is better than anything else.

Ford is able to justify it, this way. I just have a hard time coming to terms with the idea of Ford making such a blatant tactical error without reasonable doubt and excuse for the action.

Now that we have that out of the way, we need to think of the Stans separately, in regards to mental state and how it would change as they go through the multiverse together (or how it would degrade, more aptly).

Ford;

Still pissed, still sleep deprived, still paranoid beyond measure. Ford would develop into a near-manipulative nutcase as time went on. He'd acknowledge the power dynamic he's inadvertently created between him and Stan, in the act of blinding him. Needing to herd him like a shepherd. The act of which would go to his head after a while. In his state he'd convince himself what he's doing is right, that he's protecting Stan by keeping him this way. Which would eventually reach a crescendo with actually permanently blinding him, after one too many close calls where Stan nearly removes the blindfold. It's for his own good, he'd justify.

As he learns more of Stan's life after being kicked out, this would only increase. He'd feel immense guilt from all angles and without a proper head to stand on would act impulsively about it. Despite this all, he's still the mastermind of them both. I imagine he'd be able to twist things to their collective favor, with complex plots that compensate for Stan's lack of vision.

His goal to defeat Bill would drive him, and his goal to keep them both alive would keep him from losing the plot entirely. His issues in having faith in others would carry onto Stan, as well. Unable to trust him with anything, unable to disclose much information, he feels that for Stan ignorance truly is bliss and keeps him near completely in the dark. Much to Stan's dismay, of course. Ford becomes prideful, unhinged, aggressive and impulsive and cryptic. Yet despite it all he still DOES care for Stan - even if Stan's presence doesn't necessarily help him - and would go crazy if he ever lost him in any way. Situations where they're separated are panic incarnate for him. I can see situations where Ford was stuck under something in the carnage around them and Stan was not, trying to lead Stan around with the sound of his voice and the snapping of his fingers for echolocation (something he probably taught to Stan for that purpose specifically).

Which, brings us to the man himself.

Stan;

Stan would be completely ass out in this situation. First the dashing of hope, followed by a fight, ending with a brand, and beginning a new hell of blackness and insanity. Still pissed, he'd keep fighting Ford even through the portal, confused as to why Ford is less hitting back and more desperately trying to cover his eyes up. Hearing him out after a while of tense shouting, he'd begrudgingly accept the blindfold only after Ford nearly erupts into a paranoid fit trying to explain what would happen to Stan if he saw what they were in.

His distrust is blatant, he will take any and every chance to attempt seeing anything, but Ford is even more paranoid than he is, and always catches him. Stan knows he's in a hell dimension, and he's desperate to be useful and help more than be a pack mule for the items they've accrued, but Ford will never let him. All the way up until Ford actually, legitimately blinds him. Forcing Stan to be dependent to Ford, as well as making him sufficiently near-useless. Over time he'll start to trust Ford again. What other option does he have? He'd continue to follow him, continue to do as he says. Despite it all he still cares for Ford, even if it isn't exactly logical. Sure the guy hated him for the better half of their lives, sure they fought, sure he BLINDED him, but he's also the only person that's ever actively taken care of him. There have been many others before Ford that've hurt him, but all of them left him to die. Ford didn't. Ford didn't have to make sure he was healthy, make sure he was fed and had water and stopped when he said he was tired. All the same, he didn't have to care about Ford in turn. But he did. Maybe he's a fool for that, maybe he should run as fast and as far away from Ford as he can but he doesn't.

He's always been stupid like that, hasn't he?

What are they, some 10-odd years after the portal incident?

After a few decades of mental hell and tormentation, perpetuated by crime and hard survival, Ford and Stan are hardly anything they were when they left their home dimension. Stan is quiet, more focused, jumpy and attentive and clingy to Ford. And Ford is paranoia incarnate, he cannot and will never put the gun down. He's loud, he's demanding, he shoots first and asks questions later. He's even jumpier than Stan is, and the moment the other leaves his sight he's threatening the nearest living soul. And I imagine Stan being away from Ford is a scary thought for him, as well. With Ford he had guaranteed safety, he knew where to put his feet, he had stability. But without him? He was even blinder than normal. I imagine if he ever found himself away from Ford he'd stand still and listen, either for the sound of Ford snapping to lead him to his general location or maybe even footsteps that match the sound of his brothers. His dependency would only get worse as the years go by, and Ford's protector complex would only worsen.

Despite this, Stan is still Ford's rock, and keeps him sane. When Ford's damn near about to snap, Stan has them sit down. He cracks jokes. Lightens the mood, any way he can. Reassures Ford.

When things are calm, Ford likes to describe things to Stan. The way the sky in the dimension their in looks, the colors around them, the places they were around that day, etc. It's the closest thing Stan has to seeing those things. And while Ford does write it all down, he makes sure to tell things to Stan that he feels he can - without stressing him out or stating too much, stuff Stan isn't 'built to hear'.

They become a mutualistic symbiotic duo, to put it bluntly. A bloody, messy, unstable symbiosis where Ford helps Stan physically and Stan helps Ford mentally.

They're criminals, vagrants, murderers and nomads. But most of all, they're brothers. Brothers that have been terrible to each other, breaking and maiming each other, but they rely on themselves.

They're all they have.

Gonna tag @koraesdoodles and @trangenderstan cause you guys requested this AU :D I admit I didn't change much. Just built on mental states and gave probable backstory to the major element of the AU.

I can see myself making a fic about this. Who knows, might just do one.

Next episode; Evil!Stan

[daybreakrising]

HEADCANONS - BLADE AND SLEEP

yes, this thing gets its own hc post. i've gone back and forth on my thoughts regarding whether or not he needs sleep (or a sleep-like state), whether his body can function without it (or minimal amounts), or if he still retains that necessary requirement of humans. given some minimal canon input in the recent 2.2 update, i have finally come to a decision-

RESTFUL REQUIREMENTS

to put it simply: blade doesn't have the same requirements as regular mortals when it comes to sleep.

that's not to say he doesn't need it at all - he does. or, at least, a state of rest. but being immortal, and tying into another hc i have regarding his physical stamina, he can go for far longer periods without any kind of rest than a regular mortal. this means the man can be awake for days without suffering any of the typical side-effects of sleep deprivation.

when he does sleep, it isn't for very long. he can feel fully rested within only 4 hours, sometimes less. when he has suffered greater injuries or been subjected to mara for longer periods, he requires more time to rest than usual, but on average he gets between 2-3 hours at a time.

SLEEP HABITS

even though he can go days without sleep with no consequences, it's an ingrained habit from his mortal days to take to a bed each night where possible. most of the time, however, unless he's been particularly active (and/or engaged in combat), he will find himself unable to fall into that restful state.

when he does sleep, he does so sitting upright.

this is actually a lingering habit from his time as y.ingxing - whilst the mortal would only rarely sleep in this position, it was a comfortable and relaxing pose in which he would quietly rest from time to time. he took to resting in this way early on in his life as blade, and the habit has stuck.

note: in situations where he is sharing a bed/sleeping space with a romantic partner, he will lie down with them and can sleep in this manner. this is simply his 'default' position and his most comfortable.

he is also a light sleeper. the slightest change in his environment can and will wake him - any unfamiliar sounds, movements, etc, will prompt him to awaken immediately. therefore, it is practically impossible for anybody to catch him asleep. the only exception to this is if he sleeps beside someone for long enough for them to become his environment - then they might be able to catch him in this intensely vulnerable state from time to time.

A HIDDEN TRUTH

in terms of who knows about his situation regarding sleep? the number is very limited, even amongst his fellow s.tellaron hunters. i would even go so far as to say that only k.afka really knows his situation, and only because she has witnessed it many times.

this is partly because... well, he doesn't see the need for anyone to know. it's not exactly the kind of thing anyone would openly share, least of all a man like blade who definitely isn't free with any personal and private information.

but it also benefits him for people to assume otherwise. given his default sleeping position & the fact he's such a light sleeper, anyone who happens upon him mid-rest would assume, fairly, that he was simply... meditating, perhaps? since sleep is a very vulnerable state for anyone to be in, even someone who wakes at the slightest sound, it suits him for most people to be completely unaware of what that looks like for him.

[golden--doodler]

HELP I AM STILL OBSESSING OVER THE AUTISTIC BOB HEADCANON.

Here are the signs I've noticed so far/some personal headcanons of mine because it's just so real:

--Bob loves randomly talking to inanimate objects, especially his restaurant supplies. He even likes personifying his food, like in "An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal" where he made a whole "death" scene for Lance the turkey when it got hit with a bullet. His imagination runs deep, which definitely got passed on to the kids.

--Sometimes he just says some out-of-pocket things that he usually has to backtrack and apologize for. Like in the pilot, "Human Flesh", when he says "Because you're heavy" to Gene without batting an eye, and even tries to choke out Hugo out of frustration in another scene. Also, when he becomes crazy during that one scene during the hurricane in the first season and goes "THEY'LL BE EATING BOB'S BURGERS BABY" and Linda is very concerned. And also when he straight-up loses his cool towards Gene when Gene can't remember the restaurant's name and loses the chance to promote it.

--When he is obsessed, he goes ALL THE WAY. I already mentioned his love of gardening, but his love for food runs so deep it's basically his love language. Making things is how he expresses he cares, especially when it comes to Gene, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's the whole reason why he wants to run a restaurant so badly and consistently fights for it. Also, he definitely hyper-fixates on his rivalry with Jimmy Pesto, he will never let it go. Let's also not forget this man allowed an entire cow to just live in his apartment and had a whole dream about the said cow. He also gets really obsessed with people online occasionally, like the cucumber guy, or the sailor guy from "Oh Row You Didn't".

--When this man cares, he really CARES, and even though he's not good with dates, he still tends to remember very specific things. He always brings up little details that happened to the kids, like when he told Gene about that time when Gene was young and ate a fern and Bob was really concerned, and when Gene was young he used to love hearing stories from Bob. He also always remembered that he never got to give Linda a real wedding ring and got so excited when he finally got to buy one (though we all know how that ended). He even remembers that Louise called him "Daddy" until she was eight.

--He enjoys staying in, which I can respect. He really doesn't like crowds and just interacting with people, and as I mentioned in my "Bob loves plants" post, my personal headcanon is that he doesn't enjoy crowds because he doesn't understand certain social cues and doesn't like keeping up with them. It's just easier for him to be around his family, who are equally weird and understand him.

--Another headcanon of mine is that he gets overstimulated occasionally, especially if the restaurant has a busy day, and Linda definitely helps with that :3

--He was way too quick about denying that Tina has Autism in the pilot "Human Flesh", and his mindset is that "Oh, she's not Autistic, she's just weird like me, and I'm totally neurotypical" (definitely got this from @br1ghtestlight and this is just so real).

--Another headcanon is that his stimming is really minor, it just consists of small things like wiping his hands on his apron for a second or two longer than the average person would, or gesticulating, in general, more than the average person would, because when he wants to be, the man can be very expressive.

--He definitely also thinks that Gene is just weird like him, especially during "The Laser-Inth" when Gene clearly got overstimulated, Bob, in his head, is just like "Oh I totally understand, sometimes that just happens to me, I gotta just calm him down and let him know it's okay". But seriously, though, I still can't get over how good of a dad he was in that episode.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A longer than average, even attention-demanding (by fb standards, certainly) and powerful, nourishing read.

+

The Human Place

An Interview with Pauline de Dampierre

Much has been written about a certain spot in Paris where a kind of inner fire was kept burning throughout the dark days and nights of the German occupation. In a small and crowded apartment in the rue des Colonels Renard, a strangely assorted group of people met nightly to listen with absorbed attention to an Armenian Greek named Gurdjieff, to eat the amazing meals he cooked for them, and to hear read aloud the still-unpublished Beelzebub’s Tales to His Grandson.

Pauline de Dampierre was one of the circle. She was a young attorney who turned journalist after the war was over; but like many another of the gifted young, she was not destined to follow either of the careers she had originally chosen for herself. Her meeting with Gurdjieff was definitive. After it, her professional work continued only as a means for living and a ground for self-study. After Gurdjieff’s death in 1949 and until the present, she has continued, in company with others of that same circle, the process of work on his teaching, for herself, and with the many new people who have come asking to know more about the enigmatic Master and the ideas he expressed.

~ • ~

PARABOLA: I have been very much interested in the definition at the end of the introduction to Gurdjieff’s book, Meetings with Remarkable Men. He says, “He can be called a remarkable man who stands out from those around him by the resourcefulness of his mind, and who knows how to be restrained in the manifestations which proceed from his nature, at the same time conducting himself justly and tolerantly towards the weaknesses of others.”

PAULINE DE DAMPIERRE: Yes. He can be just in front of the weakness of the other, because by having learned to contain his own manifestation, he knows what he is; and he knows what the difficulty is. There is a Zen story that I think illustrates this very well. A blind man was listening to a conversation going on near him, and suddenly he cried out: “Oh, what an extraordinary man! I have never heard anything like it!” When he was asked what he had heard that was so remarkable, he explained: “You know that blind people always develop a very fine sense of hearing. Now, in my entire life, I have never heard someone congratulate another for some good fortune without hearing in his voice at the same time a note of jealousy; and I have never heard anyone sympathize with misfortune without hearing in his voice a shade of superiority or of satisfaction because he himself was spared. But in the voice of this man who just spoke, when he spoke of happiness I heard only happiness, and when he expressed sorrow, I heard nothing but sorrow.…”

The man he had listened to was in fact a monk, a great Buddhist saint. Maybe you could say he was a “whole man.”

But I don’t mean by this to say that only people who reach this degree should be called “real”; because between the fully realized man who has attained the greatest development possible, and the ordinary contemporary man—“a slave entirely at the disposal of tendencies which have nothing to do with his true individuality”—there is room for another category of mankind: those who search for a way toward truth. In other words, one might say that these are people who have discovered a truth in the words of the blind man that goes far beyond a mere clever observation, which concerns them very deeply. They have seen that these almost unconscious states of feeling into which they let themselves fall are just one aspect of a much more serious problem—a fundamental problem, basic to their whole life. So they have decided to put everything they have into confronting it.

How do you feel the “whole man” relates to the idea of sin?

What interests me is what is at the source of what we call sin. Usually we see sin as a manifestation of a certain intensity, or as an action which is exaggerated, bad, harmful. But what is at the source of that action? Compared to the source, the action is only an excrescence—something that bursts through from an undercurrent which is always acting in human beings.

The undercurrent of tendencies from which these impulses arise is a part of the whole man.

These are motivating forces?

Usually these tendencies have a much greater influence on our behavior than we imagine. They are always moving, and they are at the root of what has been called our automatism. If a person were to stop all his outer and inner movements at a given moment in order to see what is acting in him, he would nearly always feel a tendency which has about it something narrow, something heavy, something with a negative aspect that tends to be against, to be egoistic. All that is usually going on unseen. But if he tries to awaken to what is going on in himself, to be sincere, he will be able to witness, in addition to what could be called the “coarse” life in him, another life of another quality—much subtler, much higher, lighter—that is also a part of himself. The contact with this other quality of life helps him to have a quieter presence, a deeper vision. And he feels an urge at that moment to be open to a quality of this sort that would have a force, that would be a center of gravity. He begins to search for a way to serve what he feels would be his real being.

Then he begins to really know that if he lets his attention, his interest, to be taken by his automatic tendencies, it deprives him of contact with that other source of life he is searching for. It could be said that there is a continual tendency to sin, in that sense. When these sins are spoken of as deadly, it means that these tendencies—if they are allowed to rule—at every moment deprive the human being of the possibility of turning towards this real life.

When you speak of this undercurrent, do you mean the passive?

Passive.… To let oneself be continuously led by these automatic, nonconscious tendencies is indeed to be passive. And when a person is passive, the automatic begins to take the initiative, to direct him. When he turns towards something else.…

When he makes a contact between the two?

Yes, then the undercurrent is able to play its normal role—its very necessary role.

Without a search, is there any sin? Is there responsibility without an aim?

It is often said that man in his state of illusion about himself is not responsible, and perhaps in that sense it could be said that there is no sin. But to what extent is he absolutely not responsible?

Is he held responsible at some level?

What we know is that every time we let ourselves go strongly into one of these tendencies, the tendency is strengthened. After a time it becomes very difficult to be free of it. It is in that way I see that one pays for his actions. And what about the harm that has been done to others through us? It is a very serious question.

I’m interested in what you say about these tendencies being natural. If they are natural tendencies, always there as an undercurrent, what are they there for? And what is the difference when they are there as an undercurrent and when they are acted out? Do they become sins only when they are expressed?

One can feel these tendencies as inescapable parts of one’s nature which to a certain extent bring data about oneself and the external world. I have to sustain my life. Many demands come to me from external life and I must sustain my outer life with the ego—as I am, I have nothing else. So it is through these tendencies that the ego is informed.

Take anger, for example. With a little vigilance, it is possible at the beginning of a movement of anger to surprise in oneself the sudden, short upsurge of an instinctive impulse that tends to immediately reject whatever is irritating us, making us suffer. This impulse is necessary—how could we get along without it? We would be inert—we could let our hand stay in a fire without reacting.

Take envy. There exists a law according to which when two masses of unequal size are near one another, the larger provokes a tension in the smaller. I should add that I know nothing about physics and do not know if this law prevails in that domain. But it is indubitably among the psychic influences that act on us, whether we like it or not. Very probably it is thanks to this law that the child instinctively educates itself, seeking to imitate an older person. He admires him, wants to be like him, wants to draw his attention, and if he doesn’t succeed in doing so, he is frightened. For adults, it is exactly the same.

And pride—don’t we teach a child to be proud of his successes, of his strength? Lacking this pride, he wouldn’t respect himself and wouldn’t make himself respected by others.

In a way each one of these tendencies is there to sustain my life at a certain level; they are necessary and healthy. But if I live with them alone, I am an animal. A human being has to stand in between and not allow himself to be taken by these things; not to let them raise opposition and justification. For this he must not let himself identify with them, and this means he must not let them make him forget the one and only thing important for him.

These sins, then, are engines of the ego? They drive the ego?

I would even say that they are engines of our nature, because we can always find these tendencies acting in us. But if one can see them, one can be informed by them instead of being blindly taken.

You were speaking of the ego.… On the portals of certain cathedrals, one can see sculptures representing the vices and, above them, sculptures of the virtues. But between the vices and the virtues, there is something intermediary. And this is not shown. In fact, what remains hidden in the middle is man’s wish to be sincere, to try to understand the meaning of his life. But for this, the underlying current must be perceived, and respected. Then the virtues take on form on their own. It isn’t necessary to seek them directly. They appear.

The rest of the time, it is ego speaking. There is no other alternative.

These virtues do not judge, do not reject, have no violence. They emanate; they radiate. Certain exceptional human beings prove that this is so, and even in someone who is very far from that, the existence of such a possibility can make itself felt.

In a way, it is like saying that only a person who knows fear can be courageous. There is no need of virtue if you don’t have vices!

What is vice? There are many ways to look at the subject—psychologically, analytically, theologically. I have no intention of adding to what has already been said along these lines. I simply want to emphasize one aspect that is rarely brought to light: the role of an inner search in relation to these underlying tendencies. Then the “vices” become simpler. You don’t so much think of them as bad, but you feel strongly, painfully, that they are harmful to what you are searching for. They are there and you don’t allow them to take too much place. You don’t reject them, but you don’t let yourself be engulfed by them, either. Through this process, something can be developed in us.

That brings a note of hope—and it bears on our earlier question about why the undercurrent is there.

What is important is to begin to be able to hold oneself at the source. I heard during my Catholic upbringing that even a saint sinned seven times a day. But I would say that the tendency to sin is at every second.

And it is not one’s fault that it is there?

It is my human place. The power to act is in the body. The wish for evolved being comes from another source. And the two parts must meet. They do not often meet by accident; they meet only when something is acknowledged and held in respect.

These impulses, then, if held at the source, can actually contribute to a continued sense of presence?

My sense of presence will only be real if I take these impulses into account. I may try to open only to something higher—perhaps it is possible in a posture of meditation, but even then not so easy. But the moment I begin to act these impulses are necessarily there, and must be taken into account.

Unquestionably, they have enormous force. It seems that something else of an equal force needs to be there. One can be aware of one of these impulses for a moment, and suddenly be swallowed by it. And then it is the only thing there.

I would say that what is needed is not an equal force but another kind of force, more subtle, more active. As in chemistry, one can take a stone and introduce a very active substance and the stone will dissolve. Well, the wish to be can be very active.

In fact it is not possible to experience an opening towards more freedom without obedience toward something higher. A human being has no other possibility. He may think he can be free, but he is either obedient and submitting to this higher, or a slave. But when he submits willingly, he may receive something of such a high quality that he will no longer be attracted to what enslaves him. Every time we are attracted, we think we find life in that attraction. But at the moment of submitting to this finer force, we feel life of such another kind that we are no longer tempted.

There is a very strong relation between the action of these tendencies and a certain automatism of the body. Of course, we all know how easily tempted we are by physical satisfactions—resting, moving about, food, sexual attraction. But what I’m speaking of is much more hidden, insidious, almost beyond uprooting by ordinary means. It’s a question of a certain “coarseness” inscribed in the body by everything that we have experienced, by the way in which we have allowed ourselves to be led along by these impulses. The body is accustomed to this heavy functioning even if outwardly it seems extremely light and free. The very texture of the body favors these impulses and is reinforced by them. It’s a vicious circle. When there is an opening to something higher, the body quietens, and begins to be impregnated with something more subtle. It finds a kind of inner behavior much more in accordance with this opening. And in that way these tendencies begin not to have such a strong action on the person.

What is the place of feeling, here? Does feeling have no action at all? Is this a struggle only between the head and body?

It is said that we have almost no contact with real feeling. Our emotions are very egoistic. There is no love in them. They always turn me to something other than what is there. When we feel emotions, there is a vibration so quick and tempting that it is difficult to resist. We always think it is our feeling, but it is not our feeling—it is our emotionality. If you observe yourself at that moment, you will recognize that that emotion is not yourself. You have no liberty; you are absolutely engulfed. Yet there is this mysterious power in the human being—to turn also towards a something else in himself that may be very weak, nearly inaudible, but of another quality that he respects more. One could say that real feeling appears at those rare moments when what is happening in the individual is of such quality that his only wish is to be able to remain there, and to serve it as best he can. It is only then that he has a positive feeling of the moment, with no wish to be somewhere else.

There seems to be a sense in which the impulses of envy, avarice, and so on seem to have to do with the future or the past—with images of something that I want, and fear that I will not be able to have. I am taken out of the present moment by wanting to insure something for the future. Do you think these impulses are based on fear?

In our usual state, we have nothing real in us to rely on, so it is necessary for us to create projections and ideas, to have desires of all kinds. We have no aim that would feed our presence. Every real search is about that—to find a place in oneself one could serve, where being could grow and play its role. Then it gives sense to life. When it appears, true relationship begins among the parts of the individual. One sees better, one is clearer at that moment, one is no longer afraid of living. Even outwardly, something is more balanced. Without that, there is never an aim which brings me in contact with the sense of my destiny. But at that moment, no matter how briefly, I see that I am in contact with the aim that I’ve sought. I know what to place my confidence in.

We are almost forced, then, to imagine some kind of reality for ourselves, because we are not in touch with a true reality. We have to create some sort of world to live in.

I would say that we haven’t been taught that we could be open to the growth of a reality in us. It is a great discovery to touch something real and tangible in us—it is the goal of all the traditions, to help the individual toward what is real in him.

There is very little in our society that lends support to a search of this kind. Why should anyone believe you when you say that something more is possible for human beings?

These ideas seem quite alien, it’s true. Today, however, several great currents of spiritual search are trying to give them new reality.

For my part, I would say that one of the most remarkable aspects of Gurdjieff’s thought is that it allows us to start from where we are—from our mortal sins, one might say, or more simply from our predominant faults. It casts a vigorous, surprising, light of truth on our multiple weaknesses, our prison. And it shows us how to listen to another voice, enter into contact with another reality.

How to be touched? One can be deeply touched by contact with someone who has begun to develop this in himself. Or special events can happen in life—a great happiness, a great sorrow, an impression of nature, of sacred art of the past—that can give an extraordinary feeling of much more life in us, much finer, much broader, as if the horizon were opening.

It gives us a taste that life should always be like that. It doesn’t happen often and it comes through events outside of us. But the longing for it is always there. For we are speaking of a human need—the need that makes us alive.

To feel it is to feel that it is true and must be searched for.

A real search is a preparation for an opening to the taste of that life. Gaining knowledge of everything that opposes it is the first step on the path. And it is a great adventure.…

[Thank you Ian Sanders]

[writingmaidenwarrior]

Flash Fiction Friday: Can we Kiss?

I used this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt for some backstory stuff for "Moon Daughter" and a silly little piece of how Connor and Danika became a couple, more or less. Both are in their early 20's in this piece, and it takes place about 6 years before the real story

Two months went by since Connor felt the mate connection come to live after Danika shifted for the first time. Two months he spent mostly afar from her because he wanted to give her time wrapping her head around the ins and outs of being a werewolf, but also to think about how to tackle the whole situation. “Still thinking about her?”, Neil teased over the campfire. A small embarrassed smile was the answer. Next to him, Ezra sighed. “I like to see you guys sorting this out before I leave for university, you know?” “I can’t help it. I don’t want to rush things or overwhelm her.” Thoughtful, Connor poked the fire with a stick. “Did you ask her?”, Ezra asked. “I needed to learn to control Silas around her first.”  Neil and Ezra shared an amused smile, but Connor didn’t care. Both haven’t shifted yet and don’t know how pushy the wolf inside you can be sometimes. “By now you should be able to and should get things in motion, or Danika may think you aren’t even interested in her. You know she is one strong-minded woman.” He clearly didn’t need Neil’s reminder, but on the other side, he was right. Danika was a strong-minded woman, and it wouldn’t surprise Connor if she was already close to strangle him, since she should have noticed by now the mate connection as well. Still lost in his thoughts, Connor looked over his shoulder to the settlement not far away. They made their little camp in this little nowhere land between houses and forest since no one was allowed into the forest after the last attack of the jackals. “I might be the nerd of us, but even I know you should walk up to her place and just ask her for a date, you big teddy.” Ezra’s chuckle brought Connor back. “Yeah, I guess you are right. I am afraid she might kill me if I wait any longer, even if I still have no idea how to tackle this.” “What’s your damn issue anyway?” Neil leaned back with his hands behind his head and an amused smile that appeared mischievous in the flickering fire.

“I don’t want to give her the feeling she has to accept me as mate just because of the connection. We all know it doesn’t necessarily mean a couple works out.” “Mostly because folks tend to think the connection does the hard work for them and don’t put any afford in their relationship”, Ezra mumbled more to himself than to the others. “You think?” “I mean… I guess so. It is kinda like with average humans and soulmates. Too many of them think the bond will justify everything and try to rationalize the shitty things away instead of putting their heels in the ground and saying, “This can’t go on like this, we have to change something”. Probably, it is easy to blame a mysterious force instead of yourself.” “Holy shit, where does this come from?” Neil burst out surprised as much as Connor, both staring at Ezra like he grew a second head. He shrugged with an aloof smile. “Guess I am the smartest of us nonetheless, right?” In response, Neil threw grass at him that Ezra failed to dodge. “I let you sort this out in peace”, Connor laughed and got up. From the corner of his eyes, he saw how Ezra tried to dodge another round of grass and fell off his camping chair, only for Neil to use the moment to jump on him to tickle him. Sometimes Neil really was like a little kid, but they all needed it once in a while, he the most. Connor’s steps lead him up to the houses and, without him realizing at first, down the road to Danika’s home. Shaking the head about himself, he walked up to her house. Unsure what to say, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you going to stand there all night?” Danika called from her room above with a smile on her face. “I am sorry. I am trying to find the right words.” “For asking me out?”, she inquired. “Yeah…” She vanished from the window, and for a moment Connor feared it ruined everything. He was about to turn around and go back to the others when the door opened and she stepped out. “I only have one question.” “For what?”, he spun back to the door. “If we go out, can we kiss?” A silly smile slowly crept on Connor’s face. With a leap, he was back in front of the door, only a step away from her. “I hope so.” “Good, because I was about to get my baseball bat and knock you out.” “She really was!”, her sister Candice called from behind. “That bad, huh?” “That bad”, Danika confirmed, “And I expect you to pay up for making me wait.” “Whatever the lady wishes.” Candice appeared behind Danika and rested her chin on Danika’s shoulder with a big grin that spoke of more things than a seventeen years old should know or think about. “At least you are a smart man who knows what is good for you.” “I’ll do what I can.”

[bcbdrums]

This is purely hypothetical and what if’s for fun, which member of team possible (Kim, Ron, Wade) do you think is more likely to turn into a villain? Which one do you think is least likely? And what makes you think that way?

ooooooooh. okay. going from least to most.

Kim is least likely. for Kim to be Kim, she cannot have that moral bent whatsoever. to willingly choose evil...idk, she just wouldn't. she'd be more likely to quit heroism and just...live an average life, before she'd choose evil. it's simply not in her character. i'll refer you to the meta i linked in in yesterday's ask answer for a more comprehensive explanation.

Ron is next most likely to become a villain. he'd do so not for evil's sake but for self-serving reasons. probably under the guise of some moral absolute he's convinced himself of. an anti-hero more than a villain. like...example, Martin Smarty's tween son who wants to free all the animals. letting the animals run loose was wrong and more a detriment to them than a help, but it's under the guise of his personal morality about animals in cages. so Ron, i can see him convincing himself of something and becoming an anti-hero in that regard. but! this would only happen if he was no longer with Kim. his canon role is Kim's side-kick and he likes that role. he'd only choose some alternate path if being with her in any capacity was no longer available. his entire life from preschool has been to be her support. so that would first have to be stripped away.

Wade.... he is most likely to turn villain. was just talking to my friend about this actually. he is only moral because...probably because he's a child and hasn't seen the villainous path. but he's shown villainous tendencies. let's start with his constant power moves. reading Kim's diary. having Ron chipped. these are all morally ehhhhh not so good things. he's always showing off, making a point to say how hard something is just as he accomplishes it. he wants the glory for being the best at what he does. but then we get to an even worse one, what he did to Monique.

this episode more than Grande Size Me is one that disney could have done without... you've got Wade, who is...what in S4 he'd be 12 or 13 years old...inventing a love ray to make any girl fall in love with him. and he uses it repeatedly on Monique is 17 or 18. he's old enough to know better! yes, kids' brains aren't fully developed and kids make poor judgment calls. usually selfish judgment calls, cuz human nature. but. nothing about this was okay, and Ron going along with him was not okay. this makes every mind control scheme of Drakken's look okay by comparison. how far was Wade gonna go with that thing? would he have gotten to the point of ick, kissing? i say ick cuz of the inappropriate age difference and extreme lack of consent going on. this is one sitch where age absolutely matters. these are children and it's not okay.

maybe, maybe when Wade is older he'd see the error of his ways. maybe you can chalk a lot of it up to his youth. but for a supposed good guy, for a supposed hero.... he sure does a LOT of morally not so good things. and Ron going along with this... and really, Kim going along with him microchipping Ron... no one is calling him out on these things. if they serve the greater good, the moral line gets ignored. (like Kim blowing up all the villain lairs but that's its own topic...)

but yeah to get back to the point... Wade is most likely to turn villain. he'd love that glory. it would initially be working for some morally ambiguous gov't or something i'm sure, some anti-hero thing, but he could easily turn to villainy of his own right. something self-serving. idk what his goal would be but...yeah. Wade is no innocent kid.

[burstingwithbellies]

You hear from the other side of the curtain, "Step right up, and see him with your own eyes: The Human Broodmare! Not only is he a pregnant man, he is - without a doubt - the most pregnant person in history!" This is what you have been reduced to - a grotesque attraction to be gawked at. However embarrassing this is, however, you cannot simply flee, because what he says is true. You are preposterously pregnant. Most pregnant bellies are nothing more than a bump upon their person, but you? It's more like you are attached to the belly, this monstrous thing that couldn't fit inside your average house. Practically a small hill of taut flesh that you can't even see the top of, let alone the other end. How you became this impossibly pregnant, you can't say, but it's become a fact of life; your body doesn't seem to be in any hurry to birth what could only be hundreds of babies (and tbh, a part of you hopes that never comes to pass simply because of the ordeal it presents). When it became impossible to live a normal life anymore, swelling beyond control, you were quickly snatched up and turned into a morbid attraction. It's humiliating to say the least, but how else can you do? "Without further ado, feast your eyes!" The curtain rises, and a gasp goes up amid the crowd as they behold your enormity. "Those who have paid extra can even come up and touch him! Come, come! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!" And even though you cannot see them, you feel the hands of many strangers upon the far side of your belly, rubbing it, pinching it, you even feel a few light smacks, which disturb the babies there - which sets off a chain reaction across your whole womb, as innumerable babies jostle against their neighbors, causing you to throw your head back and moan as your belly quite visibly writhes with all that fetal activity. This is going to be a long night...

So many hands are touching me. They remind me of the man who turned me into this freakish attraction. That foolish night of insecure, unprotected sex… I relive it every night whenever the tourists come and feel me.

I’ve become so fragile. My skin is stressed; intensely stretched and sensitive that so little as a brush can be orgasmic.

Maybe I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much… Maybe I should have learned my lesson with this big bulk of babies, but I’m no longer in control. I’m just belly now, and these pleasurable, shock waves just happen. What else could I do besides enjoy them?

I am the broodmare after all ~

[macbeth-n-cheese]

Early Synth HCs and Thoughts, pt.2

Here we go again!

(shout-out to Data, the OG robot crush)

More on Senses:

Trying to come up with theories for the pressure sensitivity of a synth's skin was tricky, to put it lightly. It basically threw me into a tech rabbit hole that led to more questions than answers, with another fresh batch of confusion at the Fallout lore as an added bonus.

The first thing I thought regarding pressure was that it could work in a similar way to touchscreen, where two layers of the synth-skin would be separated, and the pressure applied to the outer layer would make them touch and create an electrical current between them, thus registering the contact. Now, would this be a good enough explanation? Sure thing, but I wouldn't ramble so much if I didn't overanalyze things in the first place.

There are some flaws in this theory:

1. Touchscreen isn't a thing in fallout, as far as I know. Pipboys, terminals, securitron screens, it's all in this early digital computer vibe (that I absolutely love). If this tech existed, the institute wouldve had something to do with it, yes, but there's no way they wouldn't have added it to their computers, at least for practicality's sake.

2. The individual's entire body would need to be equipped with this, and it would absolutely not be cheap or easy to produce or program. The sensors attached to this touch layer would need to discern different types of stimuli, for starts, and I doubt Gen. II's memory would've handled much of this.

However, Nick and DiMA are prorotypes, experimental models, and I'm absolutely sure they're more expensive than their predecessors, and their developers had more freedom to work on them and test new ideas. If the institute had managed to invent a touchscreen-like technology for the skin, those two would no doubt be the first ones to have it. And even possibly the last, considering the flaws I mentioned.

My conclusion in this is that average Gen. IIs are not capable of feeling more delicate touches and interpreting those as a human would, nor do they have any reason to. They are in the middle of the way to a perfect human substitute, but aren't there yet, by any means. They were mass produced for defense and manual labour, not for actually being human, unlike Nick and DiMA.

Normal Gen. IIs can register temperture, damage suffered and physical integrity, they can see, speak (barely) and hear, and that's basically it. They're not made for having human emotions, and are only equipped with functions that make them more effective in the field. As for our boys, they came with the full sensory package, but I think DiMA has sacrificed some of his (taste, smell and possibly even the more delicate touch perception) for memory space. He's modded to Oblivion, but a machine can only handle so much, and according to Faraday's notes, he's almost on his limit.

Power:

Synths use -I assume- the same coolant that vehicles did back before the war, so they probably run on Atom as well. But because they're smaller than a car (call me Dr. Obvious) and a fusion engine simply wouldn't fit, they would need either a mini reactor or a fusion core that wasn't nerfed beyond reality by game mechanics, and would actually last a bazillion years (which I find more likely). It would be completely internal and inaccessible without taking the synth's chest appart, and equipped with a serious cooling system. Synths would have to refuel on coolant every now and then, just like a car, but time between those would be a bit longer due to the smaller size of the core.

Breathing...?

Nick can smell, and he smokes like a chimney, so the air definitelly goes in. It could be used as part of the cooling system, to expel hot air and take in a colder one, through difference in pressure, maybe? Like a rubber 'lung' being squeezed (by some specific mechanism that works in accordance to the temperature, in which: hotter core=quicker breaths, to try and keep the synth from overheating) to exhale, and released to inhale. Air would go in exclusively through the nose, where there would be a filter to keep nasty particles out. This filter would need to be changed/washed every now and then, more so on a smoker. This 'breathing' would be present on normal Gen. IIs as well, but not on Is.

Radiation immunity:

(My excuse for reading the Nuclear Engineering International and bringing up Chernobyl)

Many people don't know (and I learned it quite recently) that radiation can and most likely will destroy electronic devices. To put it simply, it scrambles the electrons running in them, causing innacurate or absent sensor readings, circuit leaks, frequency spikes and other not-cool effects that render normal, unprotected tech completely useless. It basically kills them on a "molecular level," and this happened to the first robots used in (you guessed it) Chernobyl when the disaster happened.

There are many ways to shield circuits from radiation (radiation-hardening), from physical insulation to specific circuit arrangements, redundant components, etc, most of which are quite complex and absolutely cannot be swallowed in just one bite, regardless of how greedy I am. For this reason, I'll assume that the bots in Fallout are insulated and have their circuits rad-hardened through some other means that a nuclear physicist may be able to explain.

Since lead is the main radiation-proofing substance in this universe, a synth's skin could have an inner layer of lead, just like its internal electronic components. This would be, along with the aluminium support structure and rad-hardened circuit design, a shield against the rads. So the more intact a synth's skin is, the better it is at keeping radiation at bay, which would mean that Nick and other IIs who have broken shells aren't completely immune. Gen. Is are even more vulnerable than them, because they don't have skin at all and depend only on the circuit arrangements and lead plating of components to keep the destructive effects at bay.

This means that while they'd survive in some areas of the Glowing Sea, it'd be just barely and with a lot of confusion, more so for Mr. Valentine. (Many angsty opportunities, I see here.)

Thank you for reading! Part three will drop as soon as I manage to think of a reason as to why/how/?? Nick can drink alcohol and eat noodles.

(Also there will be a segment on ghouls, stay tuned!)