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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

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Hi there. I'm still new to tumblr and to the starwars animated series fandom so I'm not very good at keeping up with things or asking about stuff that's been going on. As of late I've noticed there's a lot of discourse about Tech from the bad batch show. Could you maybe explain to me why? It's ok if you don't want to answer, I just saw that sometimes you answer these kinds of questions and you never sound mean when you do it? I'm trying not to sound dumb but I don't understand what's going on.

Yesterday when I got this ask I decided I wasn't going to answer it immediately. Both because it was my birthday and I'd rather enjoy it than delve deep into fandom drama that I'm not 100% interested in following, and because I just didn't have the time to do it any sort of justice in terms of explaining what's gone down.

Newbie Anon I'll be frank with you, I am not really sure what sparked the recent mess relating to Tech (there's always hot debates sparked by TBB for obvious reasons if you ask some of the older people in the fandom, but that's something I think you'll figure out fairly quickly if you stick around tumblr for a while). But I do have a bit of a theory...

I'm gonna keep this one under a cut for the sake of my followers and pals that don't want to get slapped in the face with this topic.

---

To start this off Newbie Anon, The Bad Batch is unquestioningly a Whitewashed Mess.

It has surpassed The Clone Wars in piss poor poc design, and while this is not a new issue (the clones have always been inconsistently portrayed as white men in various forms of older media) the animated series haven't done jackshit to fix the models despite the producers going back to fix other character models in Tales of the Jedi (proving that they can do so but simply refuse to properly represent Temuera's features in the characters that should all look like him).

Temuera Morrison as Jango Fett, compared to clone trooper Dogma

The example above helps point out some of the issues with the clone models. The profile of the face, the shape of the nose, chin and ears, the bone-cheek prominence and even the brow ridge is incorrect.

The shape of the lips and eyebrows are the only parts of the model that look right. The eyes are almost correct if not for their size and coloration. This is less of a stylistic choice like many claim, and more obviously an attempt to make the clones's features resemble less of those of a Polynesian man and more of an Euro-centric man.

Cody is another excellent example of comparison because he was directly portrayed by Tem as well, and thus his model in the show is more blatantly incorrect in the way it was depicted. Down to both the features I mentioned above and also his height being needlessly exaggerated to make him look more "intimidating" (the wikia lists all standard clones as being 6 feet tall despite Tem being 5'7").

Commander Cody as he appears in ROTS compared to his TCW Model

And then we have Clone Force 99...

Clone Force 99 aka the Bad Batch

Newbie Anon, you'd need to be blind not to see the physical discrepancies between Jango Fett and the Bad Batch. The only member that looks remotely like a clone is Wrecker who unfortunately draws heavy inspiration from the Hulk...

The Hulk... Let that sink in.

Even Echo who was a standard clone prior to his capture barely looks like a clone anymore, and the insistence on keeping him looking the way he does while justifying it as medical in nature is offensive in many ways (both towards poc and the disabled) especially when Echo was most definitely treated very poorly by the writing team (dehumanized on various occasions because of his cybernetics all in the name of a "good laugh", portrayed as the broody "killjoy" that does nothing but complain and argue with Hunter, missing the point entirely on his character which we'd gotten to know long before cf99 were a thing, just to then toss him away when they no longer wanted to focus on anyone but TBB exclusive characters).

Their designs are atrocious examples of whitewashing and the fandom has been divided on this topic for a long long time now.

There's those who likely don't understand what the problem is, which doesn't make them dumb mind you. Not everyone who watches a show is super connected to a fandom or with this kind of debate. A show is a show, animated or not, and it's watched and sometimes not spared a second glance. And since TBB is mostly aimed at kids it's mostly kids who are watching it, and the issues pass over their heads because... Well they're kids and they're still learning. No harm in that at all, eventually they'll grow up and grow wiser (or not, sometimes that's just how these things happen).

There's those who have pointed this out time and time again, arguing that they should look more like clones because it makes no sense that they look so wildly different from the rest. Especially when the explanation provided is that their "desirable mutations" made them look like that (which essentially means that being white is a desirable mutation and that's a brutally racist thing to claim).

There's also those who see nothing wrong with their designs and that even consider them hot. Hunter, Tech and Crosshair especially are viewed as the Hotties of the squad and have a massive following of kinnies and girlies who would definitely not mind getting hot and bothered with them.

Which is where the recent discourse kind of starts off...

But not as unexpectedly as you'd think. More, it happened because of something I suspect is far too big of a coincidence to ignore. The overall timing matches up with the recent outcry at least.

So, there's this company called Sideshow. It's a figures/collectibles/merchandise company that has been producing high quality star wars figures for a while now. They take pride in making as accurate a facial sculpt as possible, and over the years they have improved tremendously especially when portraying characters who have Tem's features (mostly thanks to Hot Toys who've improved the original sculpts they were using).

A comparison between the original Sideshow captain Rex sculpt vs the more recent Hot Toys version

Commander Wolffe's two much older face sculpts compared to Commander Cody's more recent face sculpt

Clone trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the Jango Fett face sculpt

ARC trooper Domino Twins face sculpt compared to the ARC trooper Jesse face sculpt

Sideshow and Hot Toys are undeniably good at what they do in terms of sculpting the faces of these characters. They've done a lot of improving and while some of the skin tones are still a little off off on occasion (especially in Rex who's lighter hair color automatically makes his skin tone look even more pale than it already does), you can't exactly say they don't look like the source material.

When it comes to quality figures, the fandom was of course pleased when Sideshow and Hot Toys started working on a TBB line where the figures had facial sculpts that matched Tem more closely than their show counterparts.

The first three figures of the TBB line to be unveiled

Obviously there's still issues (especially on the skin tone department) but you can see Tem's features more easily in Hunter and Echo. In Crosshair's case he seems more like he's related to the clones rather than being a clone himself (he looks like he could be the son of a clone) but at the very least the shape of the eyes, brows and ears is a more accurate match than what his model looks like in the show.

It's not perfect. But the fact Sideshow and Hot Toys tried to make them look like clones made a lot of people happy that there was someone in the companies trying. So when Wrecker and Tech's facial sculpts were announced everyone was excited to see what the end result would be like.

The Wrecker face sculpt revealed at long last

They managed quite well with Wrecker aside from how pale he looks. I'm very grateful they didn't try to make his brow and jawline thicker to make him look "meaner" or more brutish.

The Tech sculpt on the other hand...

The Tech face sculpt

They managed to get the ears and shape of the head right... But the rest is most definitely not at all what a clone should look like. I draw attention towards the shape and size of the lips, nose, brows and eyes specifically (coupled with his lighter hair colour and his hairline being quite receded and it's even worse to look at). The balance is way off to the point they manage to make him most definitely look like a basic white guy in altered clone armour.

This was a blow to people who were hopeful that the figure would make him resemble Temuera a little more like what they'd done to the others. It just didn't work for Tech and people were rightfully frustrated with it.

However, as soon as this was brought up there was a spark of "What's wrong? I thought you said Tech was hot :)" arguments with people laughing over the "Tech Girlies" getting what was coming to them for thinking their whitewashed pretty boy was suddenly less attractive than what they previously thought.

Now I could be wrong, it could have nothing to do with the figure reveals. I'm not very good at keeping up to date with fandom discourse because I mostly don't have the energy to care anymore (I'm here for a good time, I know my own convictions and where I stand morally, I don't need to constantly argue and moan about it when instead I could just pass along information and make my own stuff to share with the people who're here to have fun with me, I am not morally bound to star wars nor would I ever dare equate my enjoyment of the fandom to something like a marriage commitment because that's honestly ridiculous). But I donno Newbie Anon...

The timing seems too much of a coincidence and this fandom is notorious for starting fights very easily. Tech's figure coming out as the ugly duckling of the bunch and setting off a war between people who are genuinely disappointed the sculpt is bad, the Tech fangirls, and anyone who's just eager to pick a fight with everyone else, wouldn't really surprise me much.

I've seen shit like this happen in every fandom I've been. It's a matter of getting used to it and learning to pick your fights more wisely. Getting worked up about fandom discourse will only burn you out faster than you can say "oh bother".

#Eps Talks About:#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #tcw #tbb #sideshow collectibles #hot toys #I'm pretty sure this is what sparked the recent drama but -shrugs-#could just be a very weird coincidence #either way sorry if this isn't helpful Anon I am honestly not super sure on it #and also sorry if people have responded to you in a mean way over questions like these #that's not super helpful of them

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constantdangers · 2 years

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THE KING RETURNS THE KING RETURNS ❤👑💖

[ Me?? Please, the real monarchs are you guys🧡💞💗💖💓!! You're very sweet for saying so though, and hopefully I'll be able to focus more of my attention here and to some ask blogs I need to return to ;3]

#sameboot #🐺 Howling At The Moon | OOC #🐺 In The Dark I Have No Name | Asks #(im sure youre waiting for my Lodger blog comeback and I promise its coming soon <3 #i just need to get medication and stuff so I can focus on drawing properly again!!)

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possiblytracker · 2 years

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important notice (commissions)

got hit very hard very recently with the realisation that i have been very irresponsible about some things this past... year! it has been around a year since i have consistently worked on my owed things. i have been feeling increasingly burnt out and guilty for a very very long time and need to actually address it like an adult since it's only fair. anyway if you've commissioned me in the past year or so and haven't heard anything since this post is for you

first off cutting straight to the point: this is basically me admitting defeat. i'm over halfway through a 3 year STEM degree that's currently sucking the life out of me and my ability to cope with the lengthy assignments I keep getting set has been steadily dropping. i have not been medicated for my ADHD properly for the past nearly two years due to circumstances outside of my control and I am failing or nearly failing 2, almost 3, out of six classes this year. on top of this, I have been drifting away pretty consistently from larger communities i used to be a part of- one of which i took a lot of commissions and trades from in 2021, then got a repetitive strain injury in my hand, dropped the ball, and never managed to pick it back up. this is in addition to comms taken from others outside of it in the meantime, either for semi-emergency reasons or just because

i can't stress enough that I do want to give people what is owed, i have never had the intention of sweeping it under the rug or just taking the goods and running, it's been at the back of my mind this entire time- but at the current time i do not think I am able to do serious art, it's eating me up inside that I can't, and i need to take accountability for it and recompense people somehow so i can stop stewing in guilt near-constantly

therefore I am more than happy to:

give back any designs that I never completed my side of the trade for, for you to resell or retrade or whatever you like, even if partial payment was made

refund you - my financial situation is tight right now but by late april I will have received a student finance payment that will allow me to give out refunds

financially compensate you even if you didn't pay me in money, e.g. design trades, within reason

keep you on the list of owed art anyway, and you will get your stuff eventually, but it may be a good while longer until I am situated and non-stressed enough to deliver - midsummer at the earliest

as above, but since it's been an entire year for some of this, if you want to change what you wanted me to draw (within the same price bracket ofc) because of shifting interests you can ask about that as well

reply to this post, message me here on tumblr, or on discord possiblytracker#0479, and we can work something out. I'm a little busy this week with end of term assignments but i promise i'll get back to you as soon as i am able to, i won't be ignoring anything. i'll look into setting up some sort of public and viewable record of what gets worked out from this for the sake of transparency as well. if anyone doesn't get in contact i'll automatically keep their art payment on the list anyway, i don't intend on dropping anything just bc this post got missed or something

in related news, I will be closing all public channels for commissioning me for artwork until further notice - probably until after I'm done with university as a whole in 2023. i may still take commissions from friends or mutuals on a case by case basis when my backlog is empty, so feel free to ask me about it in private, but I won't be formally opening anything at this time, as from experience I just can't handle it like I used to when i first started out and it's very irresponsible of me to keep taking up people's money and time without delivering. I'm barely drawing at all beyond silly sketches these days let alone churning out commissions-grade pieces I'm happy with, so I'm going to try and remove the stressor and the big source of guilt to focus on myself and hopefully some day soon make art enjoyable for me again. my ko-fi will remain open for donations but the commissions tab will be removed soon.

thanks for understanding. i really hope my actions in continually putting stuff aside this past year haven't left a sour taste in anybody's mouth, though I'd understand if they did. I sincerely apologise for this and hopefully i get to make up for it to as many people as possible

---

lastly, tagging some people i know i owe things to-

@thatsamolez @fayooweh @butterbeanchu @angeloshadows

I know there are some others but can't remember @s off the very top of my head, so if anyone else reading this does feel free to share this post around, i'd really appreciate it- same if i owe you stuff and forgot you. i'd be really grateful if as many people as possible got in touch. may reblog and tag more people later when i get back home to my notes

EDIT: i now have a record of what's being done here

#no this is NOT april fools i only realised the date after writing this gdhvjdf #yes i am Crawling in intense anxiety posting this but its either this or stay anxious forever. i will do my best #will be leaving this pinned for a little while until the majority of things get sorted out #this doesnt really apply to comms personally requested from close friends in the past month or 2 though its not like ive done those either;#though im still willing to compensate for those too if necessary just hmu #would like to extend a thank you to maple for the awke up call. ik it wasnt the purpose of your message but it made me think abt this #and to waka for poking me about this every so often i really did appreciate it and i'm sorry i never managed to properly follow through #god knows attempts were made and i shouldve done this several months ago #once it first became apparent it wasnt working #hope this is a good enough solution that people will be ok with

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

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Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

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funkymbtifiction · 3 years

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This pandemic has brought out the worst in me. My sleeping schedule is a mess (I go to sleep at 6am and wake up at 2pm), I'm barely able to get out of the bed, I can barely do the dishes and take out the trash, I spend too much time on YouTube and inside my head, thinking about all the stuff I wanted to work on but being unable to do it.

My memory has also gotten worse - if it's not something I'm not obsessed with then I'll not remember the details. I was trying to snap myself out of this hazy floating by trying to focus my mind at least on reading, which is something I absolutely love, but now I'm unable to focus even on a plot I find interesting and intriguing, my mind immediately starts to wander, or I need to do at least 2 things at once (reading and checking Reddit, or reading and listening to some ambient music). I've also started to not finish stories where I once used to read a book a day.

I know the theory of what I should be doing, but that's it. I'm unable to JUST DO it. I think my Te is trying to motivate me by trying to wake up my conscience, but it's not enough. I hate this because I know I can do things and concentrate and be responsible and productive, but because I'm fine and all my basic needs are met I don't have the need to pull myself together. I used to fuel my 7 by travelling and observing people, but now that we need to stay home, and I have covid (so my friends bring me groceries), my 9w1 core sloth is all too happy to be left alone, with my devices.

I know that this pandemic brought pandemic fatigue with it, plus it's spring and I'm always tired in spring (plus my years-long medical issues with thick blood and low blood pressure), but it's driving me crazy that I could've gotten better at my hobbies and could've reached some of my goals by now only if I DID things. Things that used to work don't help anymore. And then I don't even stay mad long because some new video distracts me.

Is there something from a mbti perspective that can help to start doing things and concentrating on them? (For context I'm an ENFP 9w1 7w6 2w3)

Also thank you so much for this blog, thank you for helping lost souls find their way and be better people, both inside their head and outside when interacting with the outer world ❤️ I haven't been studying mbti for that long but so far I've seen so much valuable information on your blog, and for free!

Are you mad enough at yourself yet to change your behavior?

That's really the bottom line here, because you KNOW that YOU have to start being responsible and doing things and not just wasting your time... but YOU are the only person who will force yourself to do things.

A couple of thoughts. First, I recognize this phenomenon / brain fog. It happened to me several times last year during the pandemic (where I am, things are opening up, so hopefully they will soon for you as well) and I hated it. My mind was unclear, I had lots of things I needed to do but could not focus on any of them. It was, to be honest, a Si grip, which yanks you out of Ne-dom (possibilities, excitement about doing projects, seeing things made real) and turns your intuition into a "fog." There's no access to Fi (do I care about this? if I care, am I a principled person enough to do it?) and no Te (how am I going to prioritize my tasks?), just Si (I'm comfy doing nothing and feeling depressed) and flits of Ne, which only show up as being bored, easily distracted, etc. So some of this is a Si grip, and some of it is general depression (being unfocused, sleeping in late, not taking care of yourself, no motivation even for things you love, unable to finish things). You need to approach it by dealing with both -- getting back into your stronger functions (Ne: envisioning possibilities and finding a purpose, Fi: drawing upon your character and who you want to be and what you care about, to take action, Te: making a plan, forcing yourself to do what needs done, and keeping track of your progress to self-motivate) -- and by recognizing and admitting that you are depressed, and asking what you can do about it.

Second, you have built up some BAD habits during the pandemic. I get it. I fell into some of this as well last autumn, when I ceased being my usual productive self and started leaving work (from home) at 3pm every day. I developed a bad habit of just watching television, which numbed my brain and ultimately bored me. It's only now that I have hope and can go to the store without a mask on that I am feeling happier (my little 7 wing rejoices and has PLANS) and can work through into the late afternoon. I'm re-establishing a schedule that is productive throughout the day instead of allowing myself to "meander" in life. So what you need to do is look at your habits. Make a list of them. Look at what you told me: basically, it is I have become undisciplined, my sleep schedule is bad, and then I wake up late and feel lazy so I don't do anything. What is ONE THING that would jolt you into a different routine? Go to bed on time. Set a time every night, shut off all your devices an hour ahead of it, read a book until you get sleepy, and go to sleep. Wake up at a decent hour. If you wake up at 7am instead of 2pm, your body won't fall into its usual "welp, afternoon is half over, guess I'll watch YouTube" habit. It will go -- wait, what new habit are we forming? Breakfast? Then work?? Okay!

Lastly, and this is HUGELY important for an ENFP -- decide the night before what you are going to accomplish or work on tomorrow. Why? It prepares your brain to know what is expected from it. Unless I do this each night, and have a notion of how I am going to spend my time, my Ne goes ?!?! and I get very little done or waste three hours trying to decide what to do. But if I say, "Okay, tomorrow I am finishing chapter four," I usually finish chapter four (and then some). Today, I have to work at my paying job. I knew this last night, so I am mentally clear and prepared to focus only on the task at hand. I don't treat today as "mine." It belongs to my employer. I know what I am going to do, I intend to do it, and when I get home, I know what else I can work on. Learn to create this habit each night before bed. Decide what tomorrow is going to be like and commit to it.

As for tasks you don't want to do that still need done -- just do them. You can spend 2 weeks avoiding them, or spend an hour and get it over with so you don't feel like crap about yourself because you have kept avoiding it for weeks. Decide, "Tomorrow, I am doing that thing first thing in the morning," and then do it.

You will find that when you start setting yourself tasks (Te) that your Ne starts working properly again -- it will become more focused, less hazy, and more interested in what you can contribute, rather than just mindless "consuming." It's fine to have a down day now and again (even so, it's also useful to have a vague idea the night before of what this day will contain, even if it's fun -- it's fun and exciting to anticipate things) but your life NEEDS structure, or you won't do anything.

I hope you can pull yourself out of this, because you won't be happy unless you do. ENFPs need to get things done, contribute, feel like they are moving forward, and have something to show for their time. Without it, they will get angry at themselves -- as you well know.

#question #mbti #enfp #depression #self growth #spiritual development

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter 5: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate.

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1539

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes.

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic.

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood.

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek.

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.”

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogical #analogicalweek #analogical week #virgil sanders #logan sanders #collab #collaboration

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zmayadw · 3 years

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Evening to all :)

All right, so I finaly did it, the last chapter of my original story is finaly done :) It took me a while, what with the episode 8 being released at that time, and with some other stuff I wrote in the between then and now, but it is done. Well, one more part is left, basicly like an epilogue, wich will be posted in a couple of days, too, but the story itself ends with this one.

Anyway, enjoy, and I wish you all a nice evening :)

CALL OF THE RAVEN

PART 26

Jakes POV

„How is she?“ I asked Jessy as I entered the room. She got her head up from the book she was reading to look at me. „Still the same.“ She said. I sighed, walking to her bed. I took her hand, placing a soft kiss on her wrist. „The doctor was here earlier.“ Jessy informed me. „He said she is doing fine, that there's not any medical reason to be worried about.“ I just stared at her sleeping face. „Then why won't she wake up, Jessy?“ I asked her desperatly. „She will, Jake.“ she said to me, and I turned arround facing her. She smiled at me „When she's ready.“ Four days passed since they operated on her, and I was worried. Maybe Jessy was right, but her words didn't bring me any peace. She collected her stuff, and came to me. „Call me if you need anything. And if there's any change.“ She said hugging me. „Thanks, I will.“ I said, Jessy smiling once more at me before leaving. With Jessy gone, I moved myself lying next to her, leaning my forehead on the side of her head. „Please, Maya, you have to wake up.“ I whispered to her ear „ I can't do this alone, I need you with me.“

I felt a hand on my shoulder and flinched, turning my head. That nice nurse from before was smiling at me „Sorry, dear, didn't mean to fright you.“ I must have dozed off. „It's fine“ I said. „Is something wrong?“ I asked alarmed, and she smiled again „No, dear. I just need to change some things, so I have to ask you to leave for a while.“ I turned my head back to Maya, she looked so peaceful. „Dont worry, dear“ the nurse said „I'll take good care of her, just like I did before.“ I turned my look back to her. She smiled so heartedly at me, I got a feeling she had a special liking for Maya. And she did stick up for me when they brought Maya in here, and I refused to leave her and was almost dragged out by security. So I felt at peace to leave Maya with her. „Ofcourse, I'll let you do your thing.“ I said, getting up from the bed. I got to the doors when I turned back to her. „I'm sorry, but I don't know your name.“ I said and the nurse looked at me „It's Doris. Why do you ask, dear?“ „So I can properly thank you.“ I said. „So, thank you, Doris, for everything.“ She smiled wide at me „Oh, dear, you're sweet, and I knew I was right about you, but no need to thank me, really.“ She said and winked at me. I smiled back at her a bit confused before leaving the room.

I went outside, getting coffee and just sat at the bench in front of the hospital. I hated being here again. And seeing her back at that bed once more made me angry. And scared. More scared than the last time. All this uncertainty was driving me insane. If everything is fine like the doctor said, why isn't she awake yet? I was deep into my thoughts, that it took me a while to notice my phone was ringing. „Hey, Hannah.“ I answered the call. „Hi, Jake. How is she? Any change?“ she asked. I sighed „Nothing yet.“ „I'm sure everything will be fine soon, she's a fighter.“ She said reasuringly to me. „I hope so.“ I said. „I don't need to ask how you are“ she said „I can hear it in your voice. Did you eat anything today?“ I could hear the worry in her voice for me, and I could have easily lied, but she would know. „Not yet, I will later.“ „Jake, you can't do that to yourself.“ She said „And I won't let you. I'll be there in 10, and I'm taking you for lunch.“ „Hannah, that's nice of you, but rea...“ she didnt let me finish. „Stop it, I don't want to hear it!“ She almost yelled at me, and it made me smile. She really was worried for me, just like a sister would be. I was still geting used to that, of being someones brother. „All right, Hannah, I'll be waiting for you outside.“ „Good.“ She said „And besides, there is something I want to talk to you about anyway. Allrighty, see you in a while.“ „See you, Hannah.“ I said ending the call. I got up from the bench, taking the last sip of my coffe, heading out from the hospital area to meet with her.

The lunch with Hannah passed mostly with her talking and me thoughtfully nodding and saying a few words. She tried hard to lift my spirit up at least a little, and I was grateful to her, but only one thing could pull me back to normal now. „Just think about my proposal. I know you're worried about Maya, we all are, but just think about it, ok?“ Hannah said to me as she drove me back to the hospital. „Yeah, I will.“ I said back to her. She hugged me tight „Hang in there, and call if you need anything.“ „Thanks, Hannah.“ I said hugging her back before leaving the car. Walking back inside the hospital, I did think about Hannahs proposal. She was moving in with Thomas, and she wanted to leave her apartment to me. Wich wasn't a bad idea, actually. I liked the apartment, and besides, when Maya gets out of hospital, she would be more comfortable there than at the motel. And that one room has a nice big window, she would love all that natural light for her drawing. I chuckled to myself at my thoughts. Not im my wildest dreams was I expecting to be thinking of something like this, ever. But she changed me so much, she gave me hope again. She made it so that I felt like I finaly found my quiet place in all this chaos. She was the missing link I was looking for all this time. She became my everything. I entered her room with a smile for the first time after days. And I froze. Her bed was empty. It felt like my heart actually stopped beating for a moment, panic hitting at me like a truck. What happened? I was gone for a few hours, she was fine, what the fuck happened?! „Jake?“ I swallowed hard, turning my head to the sound of my name being called. My eyes swelled with tears, as hers locked with mine. In a few quick steps I came to her, carefully embracing her in a hug, burying my face to her neck. „Don't you ever scare me like this again.“ I said, unsuccessfully hiding my sobs. „I don't think my heart could take it.“ She released me from a hug, her eyes also full of tears. She rested her palm on my cheek, and I closed my eyes taking a deep breath, relieved to feel her touch again. „I knew you wouldn't leave me, that you'd come back to me.“ I said opening my eyes. She smiled at me, her voice raspy „I could never leave you. Nothing can keep me away from you.“ She kissed me then, the kiss salty from out tears. Doris sighed next to us „Oh, the young love..what a beautiful thing it is.“

Doris and me helped her back to bed and she tapped with her hand beside her for me to join. I got next to her and she rested her head on my chest. „How you feeling, angle?“ I asked her. „Tired“ she said „And in pain.“ „Don't worry, hun“ Doris said „I gave you some 'good stuff' now, it will help.“ „Thanks, Doris.“ She said with a weak smile, Doris winking at her before leaving the room. She stirred a bit, making herselff more comfortable „You won't leave, right?“ she said to me sleepily, the meds Doris gave her starting to work. „Ofcourse not“ I said, kissing the top of her head „You just rest, angel, I'll be right here when you wake up.“ She smiled and fell asleep instantly. I just stared through the window, the feeling of her steady breathing relaxing me. I felt my eyes getting heavier, and before I knew it, I too fell asleep.

Mayas POV

It was early in the morning when I woke up. I felt a bit better, but was still in a lot of pain. Jake was still sleeping. And even asleep, he looked tired, the rings under his eyes showing again. Doris entered the room, smiling at me. „Good morning, hun.“ She wispered to me as she came next to the bed checking on my IV. „'Morning.“ I said smiling back at her. She glanced at Jake „I was right about him after all.“ She said and winked at me. I chuckled silently „You sure wer, Doris.“ „Well, rest some more, hun. I'll be back shortly with your breakfast.“ She said, smiling at me again leaving the room. „What was that about?“ I turned my head, Jake looking at me sleepily.“It's not nice to eavesdrop.“ I grinned at him. „It was kinda hard not to.“ He said raising his eyebrow at me. I laughed „All right, you got a point there.“ He smiled at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. „It's good to see you laughing again.“ He got serious then „I'm sorry, angel.“ „What for?“ I asked. „For not being there with you.“ he said and sighed „I shouldn't have left you alone. I've let you down again.“ „Hey, that's not true.“ I said „I basicly forced you to leave, so if anyone is to be blamed, it's me then.“ „Even so, but I wasn't there.“ He said. „Jake“ I said softly, and he looked at me „Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault this happened.“ I could see he was troubled with this. „Who is to say that the same thing wouldn't happen even if you were there?“ I asked him. „I can't, so please, don't torture yourself with 'what if's'. It happened, and I just want to move on, leave it all behind, now that it's finally over.“ He just looked at me „I don't know how you can so easily just move on.“ I sighed „Because, I don't want for it to take over my life. I want to focus on good things ahead of me, not dwell in the past.“ I placed my palm on his face and smiled at him „I want to focus on us.“ He kissed me softly, when Doris voice came from the door „Listen to her, dear, she speaks wisely.“ She said, winking at us. „She sure does, Doris.“ He said, not taking his eyes off me. She came to the bed bringing the food tray. „Now, lets get some food in you, hun. You will need it to get better.“ She said. Jake helped me to sit up, leaning on the pillow, Doris placing the tray in front of us. „I brought some extra, so there is enough for both of you.“ she said and winked at us, before leaving the room. „She sure likes you.“ he said to me as she left. I grinned at him „What to say, I'm just so darn adorable.“ He shook his head at me „And still impossible.“ I grinned even more „Even so, you still love me.“ He looked dreamily at me and smiled „More then you can imagine.“

The rest of my days in hospital passed fast. Jake was mostly with me, making sure to leave me with some kind of entertaintment when he left, either to help with Hannahs moving or for something else. He brought me his laptop, since mine got broken, with bunch of downloaded movies and books on it. Jessy also came to see me as often as she could. I was grateful for everything, but at some point all I wanted was some peace and quiet.

„Are you sure you don't want me to call Jessy to come?“ Jake asked me once more before leaving. „I'm sure“ I said „Don't worry, and don't get me wrong, but some alone time will be nice.“ „Humf, fine.“ He said „But call me if you get bored or anything and I'll be back right away.“ „I will.“ I said and smiled. He kissed me before heading for the doors. „See you soon, angel.“

With Jake gone, the room was quiet again, which was relaxing. I closed my eyes just apprieciating the silence, trying to get some sleep. But the nightmare was back. The images of what happened haunted my dreams repeatedly. Jake noticed it too, but I dismissed his worry quickly every time. He tried convincing me to talk about it with someone, anyone, even if it wasnt him, but I always said I'm fine, that it's not necessary. But he was right after all. I should.

With a sigh, I turned on the side staring through the windown, when a knock came from the doors. I turned, and laughed. A cute teddy bear holding a heart with 'Get well soon!' written on it was smiling at me from the door frame. The person holding it peeped his head behind it and grinned „Hello, gorgeous.“ „Hey, Phil.“ I smiled at him „I was worried you forgot about me.“ I said. He was the only one that hasn't visited me, at least till now. „That could never happen, gorgeous.“ He said walking over to me. „I just...waited for the right moment to come.“ He grinned sitting on the bed next to me. I laughed „So, Jessy informed you it's safe to come now, huh?“ I said raising my eyebrow at him. He grinned even more „Something like that.“ I shook my head „Well, I'm glad you came.“

„You know, my job offer still stands, gorgeous. I would still very much like you to do it.“ Phil said to me after a while. I chuckled „Can I at least get out of this place first? Then we can discuss it further.“ „Ofcours. I just wanted to let you know the offer still stands.“ He grinned devilishly and winked „Just so you don't forget about it.“ I laughed „Oh, don't worry, I never forget about the jobs being offered to me.“ „Good.“ He said and winked again. „Anyway, gorgeous, unfortunately I have to go now. Some of us don't have the luxury to lay in bed all day.“ He said getting up and grinning at me. He stood there for a moment, his face getting serious. He leaned then, embracing me in tight hug „I'm glad you're back with us, gorgeous.“ He said to my ear and kissed me on the cheek before moving from me. I smiled „Me too, Phil, me too.“ I took the teddy and grinned „And thank's for this guy.“ He grinned back „No worries, gorgeous.“ „Hello there.“ A voice sounded at the doors. Phil raised his eyebrow looking at me „Now it really is time I go.“ He smiled once more at me „Take care, gorgeous. See you soon.“ He turned and nodde at the person entering the room „Loverboy.“ Jake did the same walking towards my bed, looking extremely calm, and I was surprised. As they passed eachother, Phil stopped „Hey, loverboy?“ Jake turned to him and Phil's fist colided with his face, sending him to the floor. „Phil!“ I jumped in my bed, wincing instantly from the pain. Phil didn't even spare me a glance, he just leaned down closer to Jake „I told you to take care of her.“ Jake just looked at him, not trying to do anything. Doris bursted to the room „Phil Hawkins!“ she yelled „How dare you come to 'my house' and make a mess?!“ The two just continued to look at eachother, when Phil finaly straightened and turned to Doris with the most wide smile „Sorry, Doris.“ He said walking towards her „I owed him that.“ He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before heading for the doors „Hope I'll see you and the others soon at the Aurora.“ Doris shook her head after him „Schmack.“ She turned to Jake „You all right there, dear?“ she asked him as he got up. „I'm fine, thanks Doris.“ He said and she looked at him „Mhm, sure you are. I'm still gonna brig you some ice for that.“ She said and walked out. „I'm fine.“ Jake said to me seeing my expression. He came and sat next to me. „Thats was very unexpected of you. I was sure you would fight him back.“ I said and he looked at me a bit sad „Well, he was right.“ I sighed „Are we back to that again?“ „What? To me not looking after you? Ofcourse, I will never forgive myself for it.“ Now he sighed desperately „I'm sorry, angel, but I can't just get so easily over it. Maybe with time, but for now it still sits heavy on my shoulders.“ I saw how much all of it still bothered him, and I knew no matter what I might say he wouldn't listen. „All right“ I said after a moment „But, just promise me, you will try to let go off that. For me.“ He half smiled „I promise, angel.“ I pulled him to me for a kiss, and he winced. Doris came back giving Jake the ice pack. „Thank you , Doris.“ He said taking it from her. „You're welcome, dear.“ She said winking before leaving again. I took the ice pack from him „Come here you.“ I said and pulled him to lay next to me. Placing the pack on the spot that was really red by now and started to swell he winced again „Ouch!“. „I'm sorry.“ I said quickly and he grinned at me. „Ohh you, that was mean!“ He laughed „Sorry, angel, couldn't resist.“

„Ready to leave, hun?“ Doris asked smiling from the doors holding my discharge papers. „Definitely!“ I said cheerfuly. She came to me and hugged me „Now, hun, as much as I like you, I hope I'll never see you again.“ She moved from me and winked „At least not in here.“ I chuckled „I hope so too, Doris. And, thank you, again, for everything.“ „No need to thank me, hun.“ She turned to Jake and winked „Now, dear, you take good care of her, this one's a keeper.“ „You can say that again, Doris.“ He said back, and to the surprise of both of us, walked to her and gave her a hug. „And I also thank you for everything.“ He released her, and with glazing eyes she waved her hand at us „Oh, you two..get going now, before you get me even more teary.“ She smiled and squeezed us both on the hand before leaving the room „Take care, kids.“

Feeling the sun on my face as we stepped out from the hospital felt so good. „So, do you maybe want to go somewhere first?“ Jake asked me as we walked towards the car. „I mean, you were in there for quite a wile.“ I smiled at him „Yeah, thats true. But I still feel a bit tired. Maybe tomorrow.“ As much as I appriciated being out, I still needed to rest. But I also wasn't very eager of the thought of returning back to the motel. Not after all that happened there. He smiled back at me „As you wish, angel. We got to the apartment then.“ „Apartment? Not the motel?“ I asked surprised. „Ahm, well yeah.“ He started „I hope you don't mind, but I got all your stuff and took them to Hannah's place.“ He got a bit nervous „I mean, I am staying there now that she's moved in with Thomas. And to be honest, I thought you might feel...less uneasy there.“ I stopped walking, and he turned to look at me. „Everything all ri...“ But I didn't let him finish. I pulled him in a tight hug „Thank you. You have no idea how glad I am to hear this. I so didn't want to go back to the motel. Not after everything.“ I felt tears coming to my eyes. „I know, angel.“ He said, and a sob escaped me. Then another, and another. He hugged me tighter „It's ok, angel, everything will be fine. I've got you now.“ He just held me there in a tight hug, letting me cry on his shoulder, for as long as I needed it.

„Ohh, this room is amazing with all this natural light!“ I squealed as Jake showed me around the apartment. He chuckled „I thought you might like it. Hence that big table there.“ I turned grinning to him „You did this for me?“ „Ofcourse, angel.“ I rushed to him throwing my hands around his neck and kissing him, but winced from the pain in my shoulder. „All right, that's enough excitement for you for now.“ He said ushering me out of the room. He lead me to the couch, made me sit then lifted my feet up. „Now don't move from here unless it's really necessary.“ He said stern with a raised eyebrow. „Oh, come on, that's not needed.“ I said protestingly. He chuckled „Maybe, but just take it easy for a day or two more.“ I was about to protest again, but he looked at me, making such a puppy face that I couldn't possibly say no to him. „Argh, all right, although I feel fine, I'll do it for you.“ „Thank you, angel.“ He said and leaned to kiss me. „Now, can I get you anything? Drink, food?“ he asked and i grinned „Well, I would kill for a coffee.“ He laughed hard „Why I'm not surprised about that.“ He said standing up. „Well, since I'm not allowed to move from this spot, I hope you're ready to indulge my demands.“ I said grinning. He smiled „For you, angel, I'll do anything.“

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

3 MONTHS LATER

„Just come to the Aurora tonight, Jessy, I will tell you everything then.“ I said to her on the phone, as I entered the apartment. „Fine, be all secretive then.“ She said sulky. I laughed „No need for that tone, you know that won't work on me. I'm still not gonna tell you anything now.“ „Ahhh, fine! See you tonight then.“ „See you, Jessy.“ I entered the kitchen, Jake sitting at the table with his laptop. He smiled „Hey, angel.“ „Hey babe.“ I said going to him for a kiss. „How was with dr. Barret?“ he asked. „It was ok.“ I said sitting next to him. „It actualy feels good to talk about it with someone.“ I smiled „Thank you for talking me into doing it.“ „No need to thank me, angel.“ He said smiling back. I sighed „I hope it doesn't bother you that it's not you that I can talk to about it.“ He took my hand, pulling me from the chair to sit on his lap „I don't really care who you talk about it with, angel. Heck, I wouldn't care if you said you wanted to talk to Phil about it. As long as you get better.“ I laughed „Huh, you know, now that you mentioned it, they do say that barkeepers are a good listeners. So kinda close to psychiatrist.“ I tilted my head and said teasingly „It would definitely be cheeper. And beside, I'm sure Phil wouldn't mind listening to me, me being all vulnerable around him, and..“ „Ok,ok, no need to continue.“ He said quickly interupting me. „You just stick with dr. Barret.“ I laughed „Awww, babe, will you ever be at ease about Phil?“ „Probably not.“ He said thoughtfully. I smiled „Not even now, when I'm about to move in with you?“ He grinned „Not even then.“ I chuckled „You're hopeless then.“ He gave me a quick kiss. „Sooo“ he started grinning again„You think Jessy will be happy when you tell her the news about you moving here?“ „Happy?“ I said, „No, I don't think so.“ He looked confused at me, and I grinned „She will be thrilled.“

A/N: Ok, so after a short, but lovely chat with @lovingstudentangel who got a bit confused with how I ended the previous chapter, with the part of Jake visiting a grave, thinking it was the end of the story, so I want to clarifie it for her, or anyone else who might have been equaly confused. It was his mother grave that he visited, and I used that part as a clifhanger. I hope all is in the clear now :)

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood mc #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x mc

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years

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Whumping Safely 101

Many people in this community have mental health problems, face various types of discrimination, and have complicated relationships with some parts or types of whump. In particular, I aim this at people who care about the experience of survivors and others with triggers – partially because I am an abuse survivor who often flirts with triggering content as part of my love of whump.

Keeping your blog safe is difficult, takes effort, and is never a perfect process. But as the community grows and grows, it’s really important that we hold ourselves to a high standard. I would argue that this is a responsibility of all content creators, but especially those of us in the messy playground of whump.

I’ve got three sections in here: content warnings, writing with care, and community interaction. I’ve tried to make it navigable. It’s about 1.8k words. Shorter than a lot of drabbles! I welcome good-faith criticism on this topic and further questions on my own views.

Content Warnings

The biggest responsibility, in my opinion, is empowering your reader to make their own decision on whether they want to expose themselves to your writing. This also happens to be by far the easiest way to help people whump safely.

What to warn

This is a big and ever-changing topic. Some things you should warn for as a rule of thumb are anything NSFW, pet whump and box boy whump, drugs and alcohol, medical and hospital content, graphic gore, intimate partner violence, and animal harm. It can be tricky to draw the line of what counts – what needs a warning? If you’re in doubt, just warn it anyway. It doesn’t hurt.

If someone requests a trigger be warned for, even if it’s something that feels obscure or tame, show compassion and agree to the request. This is someone who cares enough about being able to read your writing that they wrote in! They want to be able to read it and enjoy it. You’re being complimented.

Otherwise, look at what other blogs tag for. You’ll see some variation in styles and levels of detail, but it’s a good way to gauge what people think is warn-worthy, when we’re often writing stuff that would already be R-rated in mainstream media.

The easiest way to make sure people don’t see your triggering content is to use a cut. Tumblr is not a very functional website and likes to delete cuts, but a cursory check of your posted content will usually tell you whether it’s worked. With asks, cuts are very spotty, so don’t be afraid to post an ask response separately with a screengrab of the original question. People often then respond to the ask itself with a link to the post, especially if it’s a whole drabble. Tumblr is weird and bad so just do your best.

Content notices

I.e., a quick summary before the drabble, usually in bold, to state what will be coming. I like to distinguish between using content notes (CN) and trigger warnings (TW) to indicate severity. Others might use the old phrase ‘dead dove do not eat’ to indicate this is a heavy piece, and often you will see qualifiers like ‘intense’, ‘mild’, ‘mention’, ‘referenced’ (i.e. it is discussed but not actively happening), and ‘implied’ (as the opposite of ‘explicit’). I’ve also seen a couple of people use ‘vibes’, which is a really nice way of demonstrating that it’s there, but not the focus. A quick paragraph like this, or just a line, lets people make a quick risk assessment on their reading.

This is also important if you’re sending in asks or requests to people. If you want to ask about something triggering, send an inquiry first about whether the blog is okay to hear it.

Tagging

Tagging is a chore, but it’s your primary way of warning people about your content. The main benefit of tagging is that you can be as detailed as you want, because can be tagging for content in general, not just triggers.

In a best case scenario, you’d tag the kind of whump you’re doing, tag triggers, tag characters, and even your ‘verses, because tagging is your index for your blog. If you tag reliably, you help your future self and your readers find stuff, and you also make your blog really dang safe. People who have unusual triggers can blacklist tags, and will pick up on your content tags to help them.

Don’t just tag your own writing. Tag your reblogs, tag your prompts, tag your asks. Yes, edit your asks to add the tags. Tag your images and gifs. Tag your images as images and your gifs as gifs.

If you aren’t up for detailed tagging for whatever reason, just tag for triggering content, and add stuff to that list if you’re asked to. My usual technique is to make a mental note of tags while I’m formatting and editing before posting.

Be aware that your first five tags will be used in search results. If you’re using tags that are associated with kink too, such as ‘shibari’, you might want to rethink your tag order if you don’t want interaction from those blogs. Also think about what tags might come up in non-whump contexts, such as ‘collar’ or ‘PTSD’. Some tactics for getting around this I’ve seen are adding ‘whump’ after the content or writing the tags in past tense (i.e., ‘collared’).

It is also a good idea to watch out for when you might be reblogging something whumpy that is intended as kink / porn / fetish, especially in images. Tagging these as spicy / nsfw / kink is a sensible move.

Writing with Care

Okay, now for the harder stuff.

I mean here to lay out some guidelines for how to write in a way that helps your reader build good faith. This is a much more nuanced topic, and it’s different for everyone. There will always be differing opinions on what should and shouldn’t be written about, what a good depiction of a sensitive topic is, and how to discuss that topic. I tried to strip this back into absolute basics that I hope we can all agree on.

Maybe your whump involves abuse. Maybe it’s gaslighting. Maybe it’s severe mental health problems, or addiction, or slavery, or you write about or analogise real-world issues. Whump deals with the dark stuff, and that’s a big part of its appeal. But don’t ever forget you’re writing the dark stuff.

(Try to) Know what you’re doing

Some of us play fast and loose with plots, medical accuracy, worldbuilding, and other things that get in the way of the pain we crave. This is all well and good, but when we start using whump that speaks true to people’s lived experiences, we shouldn’t be careless with it. I’m particularly talking about things that get represented poorly in mainstream media, such as abusive relationships, issues around marginalisation, mental illness and disability.

Be critical of media that you’ve consumed. Think about how its depicted things that you want to depict in turn. Look for opinions on fictional representations of those issues. Be aware that you might be more ignorant of things than you realise.

Look at how others are writing these issues, particularly if they’re writing from a perspective different to yours. If you haven’t personally experienced what you’re writing about, e.g., if you don’t have PTSD and you want to depict a character who does, seek out stuff written from or with experience. Listen to the experts.

If you’re looking for stuff about representation specifically, I recommend this collection of posts about ‘Braving Diversity’ cultivated by Writing With Colour, who are in themselves a fantastic resource for this topic, and have recommendations for other blogs that deal with intersecting issues.

Listen to others

Missteps are inevitable. Nobody is perfect. If constructive criticism is offered, that’s also a compliment to your writing. Someone read your work and thought about it, and thought you’d care about improving it. They’re offering themselves as a resource for helping you see your work in a new light.

Criticism is hard and sometimes hurtful, but even if we don’t think it’s accurate, there’s often a grain of truth in it. If someone tells you that your writing is harmful, think about why they’ve said that, not whether or not they’re correct. This is an opinion! Opinions are subjective! But what drove someone to send that in?

You don’t have to respond to all your criticism and definitely don’t respond straight away. Being respectful to those who are trying to help you means taking the time to consider it properly. Sometimes, they don’t need a response. Others, you might want to learn more about what they think before deciding. You might have already discussed the topic, in which case, you might just want to reblog your previous posts.

If it’s sent in bad faith or is outright hateful, you’re well within your rights to just delete it and move on. You might get the same criticism over and over again, and that’s exhausting, and you don’t have to retrace your steps for everyone.

But if it’s new, even if it puts your hackles up, you can always stop and wonder why someone felt that strongly about your work.

Take a step back

One of my better-known characters is a pet whumper who conditioned his victim to adore and depend on him. It’s not always easy to represent how deeply messed up that is within the text – though I think that’s part of the challenge – but in meta-commentary, I am always describing him as a creeptastic bastard lacking compassion and self-reflection. I hope to always give the reader the confidence that I know just how wrong it is.

This is a really simple thing you can do just to give readers good faith in you. Show that you know what you’re writing is dark and messed up. Show your understanding for the issues you’re handling and that they’re complicated. It might seem self-evident, but when you’re writing the really dark stuff, or unhealthy relationships, or institutionalised whump, you can inadvertently create the impression that you just think it’s fun. The fact that it’s fiction does not automatically absolve you. Show that you care about doing it right.

Community Interaction

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet because I will almost entirely be preaching to the choir here.

Be polite to others. Imagine saying what you’re saying to their face.

Don’t send anon hate. Just don’t. If you can send criticism off anon, do so.

Nobody is obligated to interact with you.

Nobody is obligated to monitor their own reader base.

If someone says do not interact, do not interact.

If someone says do not interact, why they’ve said that is none of your business.

You don’t need to spread the word about someone’s bad politics.

Ask yourself if your input is needed, or if what you’ve said has already been said.

You don’t have to take a side.

Take care of yourself. Take breaks. Remind yourself that whump is a small part of the world.

That’s all from me, folks. Stay safe.

#discourse...adjacent?#whump community #whump etiquette

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sapphos-darlings · 3 years

Note

I'm dating this girl who is VERY femme. She's bi, I'm her first female partner, she's previously had very heteronormative relationships and grew up in a very patriarchal culture/family. Now, she has these really strict "rules" for herself that she just seems to torture herself with. She'll apologize excessively if she hasn't shaved some part of her body, complains about her weight even though she's arguably borderline underweight, will barely let ME see her without makeup etc. etc. (1/2)

She’s constantly body monitoring, adjusting her position, sucking her stomach in, “fixing” things, making negative/anxious comments about her own appearance and so on. For some reason, she doesn’t apply any of these “rules” to me. I’m also femme(ish) but don’t bother with a lot of expectations like shaving, makeup and stuff. I want to help, or make life easier for her somehow but I don’t know how and witnessing this daily just makes me really sad. For her, and women in general. Advice?

Hello there, Anon.

I know exactly what you’re talking about. I remember when things like that started to manifest in middle-school, and even though I’m pushing thirty I still know women like this. Patriarchy will do this to a woman.

I’ve known women who diet obsessively, outright perform in front of men, who are nearing the definition of an eating disorder, and really struggle with self-esteem, and I’ve had some of these experiences too.

And the thing is, even though you are looking at it from the outside and draw these really clear lines between patriarchal beauty standards and her behaviour, it doesn’t mean she sees it like that. People in general hate to be read and told that they do something because of some external pressure and not their own choice, as teenage me discovered when I started to go on feminist rants, and it’s probably not the best idea to bullheadedly confront these very delicate, deeply personal things about someone, especially when they are a source of pain. The thing is, people guard and shield personal parts about themselves, even or maybe especially those that cause us pain.

The fact that she applies these rules of hers on her and not you further tells you that she does them because it’s what she’s been taught and what she’s learned and now feels she must do. It’s good that she doesn’t enforce them on you, and might be a sign that deep down knows that they are irrational, unnecessary or downright bad for her too. Only she knows for sure, though.

So my advice to you is this: It’s not your job to save others from themselves. It is not your job to decide what parts of others are bad and need to be done away with, and how. What you can do is be supportive, honest and kind, and through your own actions build a relationship where you can both thrive.

What you can do is understand, support and accept her. Express the kind of person you are: you don’t judge her, you value her, you support her, you want to know what she feels, thinks and has experienced. Express your thoughts and worldview about women and beauty and everything else honestly without targetting her. Focus on positive things and positive expressions; talk about best case scenariors instead of listing everything that’s wrong.

When approaching things like body image and performing femininity, be sensitive about it. Set the tone as calm, accepting and open. Ask her questions and focus on her happiness and comfort, and then listen to her. For example, if she’s complaining about her weight when you go out to eat, don’t get sucked in to correcting her feelings about herself or tell her what she should be thinking, but ask what she’d like to eat, what is it that she enjoys, what is her favorite. Create a space where she is allowed to be anxious but don’t feed into that, and where you want to spend good time with her as she is. Focus on enjoyment and positive things that you want to share, and she will make her own choices within that space.

Tell her how you feel about her, not how she should feel about herself. If she’s ashamed of not having shaved her legs, tell her that it’s all the same to you, that you think she’s amazing as she is, that you didn’t shave and you feel good about that. Don’t accept her apology, because she has nothing to apologize for.

If she’s worried she doesn’t look “properly feminine”, tell her it’s no one’s business to judge her and that you’ll be with her either way.

Be honest about your own feelings and how you feel. Just because you shouldn’t educate or correct her constantly doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel sad, and that is a valid feeling to communicate to your girlfriend. I sure know that back in high-school when my close friend who was very slender and athletic moaned how horrible she looked and how “fat” she was, it made me, about 15 kilograms heavier than her, feel miserable. Of course, she had her own troubles and she didn’t mean any harm to me, but it still hurt.

Basically, use “I”-sentences; “I feel like --”, “I think that --”, and so on. Sentences that communicate what you feel, what you think and why, and what you hope and wish and worry about.

The general gist is that people evolve, grow and heal because they choose to, in the environment that they have. You can be a positive, accepting force in her life, someone who accepts her, listens to her and talks things through with her, someone who allows her to feel good and accepted so that she can in turn value herself more and build her self-esteem. You can give her the space and positive energy, but she has to do the growing herself, and that and the direction it goes is her choice. Basically watch out for too specific expectations: her personal growth doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll stop shaving or wearing makeup, for example.

And finally, remember that taking care of someone else’s problem is not your responsibility. I don’t know her or her situation, but in case she has actual medical issues such as anxiety or an eating disorder, it’s not on you to be her sole comfort or replace a professional. Just remember that professonal resources are an option if that’s needed.

There’s my general advice. I wish you luck and happiness with your girl. Mod Sade might want to add something later, so keep an eye on reblogs.

- Lavender

#reply #ask #anon #eating disorder cw #anxiety cw #advice #body image

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fandomlurker · 3 years

Text

A Ponderous Rewatch: Opportunity Knox and Cameo

We’re treated to something a bit special this episode! No, not the art and animation quality, as that’s…kinda weak this time. Or maybe I should say Brain is drawn and animated kinda nightmarishly in a lot of parts? Well, you’ll see.

No, the special thing about this episode is that it’s written by Tom Minton, the writer at Warner Brothers who was the original inspiration for The Brain! The general idea for Pinky and the Brain as characters and as a show came from Tom Ruegger having an office close by to Tom Minton and Eddie Fitzgerald, two writers and storyboard artists who he would often hear laughing and joking around together but usually couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying. Minton usually spoke low and quietly and was more introverted, while Fitzgerald was much more outgoing and loud…basically already like a cartoon come to life (Eddie actually did exclaim things like ‘Narf’ occasionally in reality, which was an aspect that was added to and exaggerated in Pinky’s character). The fact that these two guys who were viewed as total opposites by their colleagues were good friends and spent so much time working together in secret lead to everyone joking that they were secretly trying to take over the world.

That isn’t to say that Pinky and Brain are 100% cartoon copies of Eddie and Tom—our mouse duo definitely veered off into their own distinct personalities very quickly—but the basic bones of their characters came from these two real life men. That makes me wonder about how surreal it must have been for Tom Minton to write for episodes starring Pinky and the Brain. He only did so four times in Animaniacs (and Eddie Fitzgerald never directly worked on Animaniacs or Pinky and the Brain, to my knowledge).

In any case, let’s move on to the actual episode.

We open to a multitude of bubbling beakers of mysterious liquids and one scientist working alone at night in the Acme Labs. She sneezes a few times, and then exclaims that she’s only a few steps away from curing the common cold.

…Man, Acme Labs is a total shitshow when it comes to their work, aren’t they? In addition to all the blatantly cruel experiments on animals that they do, just look at how lax this scientist is about lab safety. I’ll give her props for at least wearing her lab coat properly and tying her long hair up, which is something most media usually gets wrong. The fact that she’s doing this medical experiment while not wearing gloves or proper eye protection or a mask is very troubling. Not to mention that she’s doing all this while being very sick, if her violent sneezes are anything to go by.

Hmm, that cage is looking suspiciously empty.

Well, well! Looks like our mousey duo is up to something.

“Ahehehehe, oh this is gonna be great, Brain! Narf!”

“Quiet, Pinky!”

OH LORD, SHE JUST CHUGS IT HERSELF! Lady, PLEASE! The fact that this “cure” is piss-coloured only makes it worse.

Sweetie, I think this needs more peer-reviewed, double-blind tests before you can truthfully say that you’ve made a cure for the common cold. You have no proper safety gear on and you’re doing this experiment all alone at night with no one to check up on you.

Oh no. Boys, what are you doing?

So they catapult some powdery substance on her and she goes into a more violent sneezing fit than before. She leaves the room to go “back to the drawing board”, but honestly I’m hoping that she just goes home and isolates herself for a while.

“Success, Pinky!”

“Egad, Brain, what is this stuff?!”

“A new strain of pollen I created myself, Pinky. It causes a temporary but uncontrollable fit of allergic sneezing in man.”

Pinky looks very disturbed by this (although I suppose it doesn’t help that Brain has that very smug and devious look on his face) until Brain says that the effect is temporary. It’s a nice little detail that shows us approximately where Pinky’s lines of morality are. Brain makes his own strain of pollen to cause humans to have severe sneezing fits? That’s amazing but horrifying! Oh, it’s only temporary? Well okay, then. It’s fine if it doesn’t cause any lasting harm.

“No human is immune.”

AAAAAAHHHHHHH! Holy fuck, show, don’t give me a jumpscare like that!

“Do you realize what we will do with this pollen, Pinky?”

“Umm… Open a boutique?”

GAH! I told you to stop doing that! Seriously, what’s up with the way Brain’s draw in this episode?

“Yes, that’s it. We’ll open a boutique and sell ladies’ clothing and pollen.”

“Egad, Brain, what fun! I like this idea, I do! Hehehahahaha!~”

Of course he would. Of course he’d like working in a more domestic setting and selling ladies’ clothing.

…Say, now that I think of it, I think this might be the first time we get a hint as to Pinky’s love of what’s stereotypically thought of as women’s clothing. Hmm.

BONK!

“Focus, Pinky, FOCUS!”

Brain, sweetie, not everyone goes into tunnel-visioned hyperfocus like you do.

“We shall do no less than go to Fort Knox, Kentucky: keeper of the nation’s gold supply. There, we will expose the guards to our pollen…”

Despite the general awkwardness of the animation this episode, I like the way Brain is drawn here from over the shoulder. Very nice work.

Also…”our” pollen? Brain, you made that yourself. I guess this is just another example of Brain subconsciously including Pinky in everything.

“…and while they’re sneezing uncontrollably, we’ll move into the vault and take the gold!”

Brain’s plan blueprints are such a treat. Gold! Gold! Gold!

“For he who controls this nation’s capital, controls the nation!”

Okay, this close-up is a little better.

“Off to Fort Knox!”

“Oh! Wait! But isn’t the nation’s capital in Washington, DC?”

BONK!

“Capital as in money, Pinky!”

Oh come on now, Brain. It was an easy mistake to make. Also “capital” in this instance can mean more than money if you want to get semantic about it.

Brain grabs Pinky’s tail to drag him away again. It’s a wonder that Pinky’s tail isn’t as kinked up and injured as Brain’s is by now.

Ooo, improvised tools time!

“But how are we gonna get to Fort Knox, Brain?”

“We’ll simply borrow one of the lab’s technological resources:”

“The minivan!”

Pinky, are you mildly swooning over Brain acquiring a minivan? I…

This does bring up a point I wanted to make, though. Sometimes fans will question why Pinky and Brain stay at Acme Labs despite being put through so much inhumane and humiliating bullshit. While it’s true that Brain doesn’t much like the experiments he’s subjected to (Pinky is…another story entirely), I’m pretty sure he keeps the labs as his home because it’s incredibly convenient for his world domination plans. These are ACME labs, after all, and regardless of how terrible the experiments are, Acme has access to just about every bit of technology in the Warner Brothers cartoon universe. Brain can find or order whatever parts he needs for his latest world domination plan whenever he wants, and no human bats an eye at mysterious bits and bobs showing up because, well, it’s Acme. Acme is in the business of doing absolutely everything. No matter what daytime tortures Brain goes through, the lab is an incredible asset to him, and he’d be foolish to give that up.

Hello again, Warner siblings! I hope you’re having fun tonight.

That’s an awfully tiny sack of pollen to take for this trip…

“Won’t we get in trouble, Brain?”

“’Get in trouble’? Pinky, we’re going to take over the world!”

I just like the tiny silhouettes in this screencap.

“Besides, we’ll have the van back here by 8 am.”

“Oh! All right, then!”

[Quickly googles how long it would take to drive from Burbank California to Fort Knox]

…Are you sure about that, Brain? Are you really, positively sure?

Oh my goodness, a little winch and pulley system! That’s a little convoluted, but it’s adorable.

“Oi! Nice threads, Brain! But, err, why the disguise?”

“If we are to succeed in our mission, I must pass for an average, non-descript motorist, Pinky.”

I agree, Pinky. Brain always looks good in a suit.

Also he’s on a literal soap box, holy shit.

“So while we’re driving, call me Mr. Perkins.”

A trillby?!? Put it back! Putitbackputitbackputitback!

“Say no more! Brilliant, Brain!”

“Mr. Perkins.”

Oh no, he’s threatening to punch the audience now!

“Ooo, right, right. Narf! Heh, Mr. Per-kins.~”

“Pinky, start your engine!”

So Pinky tugs on a rope tied to the car keys to start the minivan, and I bet we can all already tell that he’s going to be doing most of the hard work for this roadtrip.

“Now depress the brake!”

I half expected a joke here where Pinky would say depressing things to the brake, but that didn’t happen. It’s just as well, I suppose. Pinky’s not usually the type to be mean to anyone or anything.

Instead, he pushes himself into the brake.

This made me curious about how strong real mice are. According to this scientific article, the average mouse can lift approximately 70 g in weight.That’s not a lot compared to us humans, of course, but seeing as the average weight of the common house mouse is 19 g (and common wood mice are on average 23 g), that’s really impressive! Still, for Pinky to be able to depress the brake is quite a feat that’s worlds beyond what the average real-life mouse can do.

Yes, yes, I know. It’s all cartoon logic and physics. That’s not going to stop me from having the headcanon that Pinky and the Brain have both been modified so much by Acme Labs that in addition to becoming sapient and intelligent, they’re basically little mouse superheroes in strength, too.

“Yes! Now I’ll shift the transmission into gear and…you give it the gas!”

Man, Pinky just slams his entire body onto the gas pedal with all his mousey might! You can hear him physically strain against it. Well done, Mr. Paulsen!

“Now Pinky, let us, in the vernacular, ‘take this hog out on the road and see who’s boss’!”

Oh lord, Brain’s on a slight power trip just from being able to drive a vehicle. If he ever does rule over the world one day, I fear he may explode from the sheer ego-high of it.

Anyway, on the way to Fort Knox they get stuck behind a rather slow transport truck. Well, Brain can’t have that! He’s got to get back to the lab by 8 am after all!

“Pinky! Prepare to pass a slow-moving vehicle!”

“Righty-o, Brain!”

Again, Pinky, I’m pretty sure you really aren’t supposed to stick your ass and chest out while saluting. You’re supposed to keep your posture straight.

…What am I saying? Pinky can’t do anything straight.

“Call me Mr. Perkins! Activate left turn indicator now.”

Aww, a little hop!~

Unfortunately it’s the wrong lever.

“…Let’s try that again, Pinky.”

“Narf! Wrong switch.”

He sits down to think and of course he gets it right that way.

Anyone else enjoying a lesson on how to drive from Pinky and the Brain? No? Just me? I mean, I already know how, but this is super cute.

“Exemplary work, Pinky!”

Brain, he just…he just pulled a switch. By accident. The fact that he’s so sincere about complimenting him for this is very cute but also very odd. I guess Brain’s in a good mood tonight.

“But we’re slowing down. Quickly, step on the gas!”

“Gas, check!”

Pinky, no!

Oh lord, he just lets himself fall directly on the gas pedal. You okay there, dude?

“Maintain pedal pressure, Pinky!”

I don’t think he has much of a choice, Brain.

So they get beside the freight truck and the driver of it picks up his CB radio mic.

“Hey, breaker breaker one nine, this here’s Big Red. Eh…what’s your handle, good buddy? Over.”

“The name’s Perkins. MISTER Perkins. Just an average, non-descript motorist.”

Wh—Why is there a CB radio installed in the Acme Lab minivan?

Pinky chooses this moment to lift himself off the gas pedal and then jump back on it in a weirdly showy, semi-acrobatic way. The first screencap has the tip of his tail almost in the shape of a heart, so I had to include it.

Our duo pass by the freight truck. Needless to say, the truck driver is still pretty rattled by his run-in with “Mr. Perkins”.

“I gotta quit eatin’ them double onion chili dogs!…”

Usually people just run with it on this show, but this is one of those rare moments where a human being doesn’t inexplicably fall for one of Brain’s horrible human disguises.

The minivan’s grill looks like teeth here and it’s almost menacing.

Uh oh, Brain’s getting dozy.

“Pinky…I’m in need of some music to keep myself raptly alert. And use the cruise control this time so we don’t lose speed!”

I don’t know why I’m so charmed by Pinky pressing the cruise control button like this, but it’s very cute.

“Cruise control on, Br—aaaerr—umm, Mr. Perkins!”

He is trying his best. :3c

“[yawn] Stellar, Pinky. Now see if you can locate a local radio station frequency.”

“Narf! Wrong knob…”

Smacking the hell out of the right knob make the radio explode into a loud yet incredibly mild generic rock tune. I’m surprised Pinky’s so alarmed. I wonder if Brain—

JEEZUS FUCK! You gotta stop giving me a heart attack with these sudden messed up close-ups of Brain, episode!

“Turn off the radio, Pinky!”

“Heeey! This knob’s loose!”

Aaaand there he goes.

“Oohoo ahaha! What’d’ya know? The lighter works!”

I wonder if Pinky knows what that’s actually for at this point, considering his utter disdain for smoking later in the spin-off?

“The radio, Pinky!”

“Ooo, right. Almost forgot!”

Uh oh.

“Whew. Suddenly I feel downright feverish, I do…”

Pinky has become a Charmander, and he’s not happy about it.

So he’s screaming and shouting his verbal tics all over the place and what’s Brain’s reaction?

“There’s no need for you to entertain me personally, Pinky. I’m quite awake now.”

BRAIN! You wipe that smug smile off your face right now, you little jerk! I know Pinky will be okay because he always is, but still.

One screen wipe later…

“Kentucky, Pinky! We made it!”

“All right, Brain!”

“Mister PERKINS!”

Brain, I think Pinky’s just not into this roleplay tonight. Or it might be your trillby. Lose the damn trillby.

“Fort Knox is mere miles away. Nothing can stop us now!”

Well, looks like you jinxed yourself.

I’ve got no love for cops, but his “what the fuck” expression here is choice.

“Good evening, officer. Was I exceeding the speed limit?”

“By about a hundred miles an hour.”

Oh, is that all? They’d need to be over by, like, a thousand or so miles an hour to make as good of a time as they did getting here.

Maybe this guy is going to arrest them for breaking the laws of time and space.

“I’m sorry, y’see—“

Shining a flashlight directly into your eyes? Yup, this is definitely a cop.

“I’m Mr. Perkins, an average, non-descript—“

“Can I see your license and registration, please?”

And then Pinky immediately interrupts the shakedown with a happy, matter-of-fact “We don’t have any! Zort! :D” and now my mind wanders off into let’s-overanalyze-the-shit-out-of-this-joke-scene territory because… Look at this. A cop pulls over a vehicle from Acme Labs doing about a hundred miles over the speed limit and finds Brain, a mouse in a suit trying to pass as a human driver. Then Pinky, who is dressed in no such disguise because why would Brain ever think of an obviously important detail ever in one of his plans, pops up to say that they don’t have a driver’s license.

…So what does this scene look like at this point from the cop’s perspective? Besides the very rare outlier like the truck driver from before, humans usually take Brain’s word for it that he’s also human, no matter how shoddy his disguise is. There are a few possibilities here, and I honestly can’t decide which is funniest:

1. The cop can see through Brain’s poor disguise just like the truck driver from earlier can, and knows that these are actually two mice that have stolen a truck and have been speeding down the highway with it.

2. The cop thinks Brain is a very odd-looking human without a driver’s license who’s been driving down the highway at insane speeds with his loose pet talking mouse by his side.

3. The cop believes that Brain really is an odd-looking human who has no license and has been wildly speeding down the highway and also there’s an equally odd-looking human man with him who is stark naked for some mysterious reason.

I’ll let you decide which one is the most likely canon scenario as we continue as Brain tries to clear up this scenario.

“If you must know, we are two lab mice out to control the world by seizing its gold assets. But when we assume power, rest assured our budget will result in substantial new funding for law enforcement.”

…

Leave it to Brain to truthfully spell out his global domination intentions for no good reason and then lie his little mousey ass off to try and bribe his way out of going to jail.

Also, again, it’s “when we assume power” and not “when I assume power”. Hmm.

“…Oh.”

“Bwuhyuube… Be--best be on your way, then.”

“Thank you, officer.”

I’d say I was surprised that white privilege extends even to white lab mice here but…that would be a lie.

“Oh man, I do miss them witless teenage speed demons…”

So they finally make it to Fort Knox.

…And I guess the Warner siblings do, too!

The two mice have parked on a hill overlooking their target and gosh Brain, you’re looking extra pudgy here.

“It’s time to make our move, Pinky.”

Judging by the look on his face here, I think Pinky just noticed how thicc Brain’s behind has suddenly gotten.

Nevertheless, they begin their pollen assault on the guards.

Finally, the moment has arrived!

Brain’s head is shaped like a football and is almost as wide as Pinky is tall here, but besides that this is a cool shot.

This bit was also used in the spin-off’s theme for some reason, but now it will forever remind me of the absolute chaotic laughter that erupted when I got some friends to sit down and watch an episode of PatB. The stream decided to stop on this specific shot for buffering and they all just lost it. Most of the reaction was through voice on Discord, but luckily there were some friends using text chat too:

I live for moments like these when we’re streaming shows and movies.

“Egad! This is even better than a Ducktales episode, Brain!”

That’s pretty high praise, Pinky. I love the shadowing done on him here as well.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Wha—I think so, Brain, but balancing a family and a career? Oof, it’s all too much for me!”

Pinky did…did you see all this gold and immediately begin envisioning yourself using the money to settle down and start a family?!? And so far in this series you aren’t dating anyone and you probably don’t even know anyone besides Brain and…

Okay, listen, I know it’s established later on that Pinky has wishes and daydreams about having a very domestic life, culminating in that one “Somewhere That’s Green” parody fantasy where he and Brain live together like a 50s couple in the Elmyra spin-off but… But…!

Well, you’ll kind of get a family along with your world domination “career” in a few years, Pinky. It’s probably not going to be quite how you envisioned it, though.

“The gold, Pinky! It’s all ours. Let’s move it out!”

Umm…

“One…two…three…and lift!”

I just realized that out of context the poses and faces in this screencap could look, uhh, questionable. But will that stop me from sharing it? No.

“I believe my plan has a…fatal flaw…”

About 27.4 pounds worth of a fatal flaw. You two might have super strength in comparison to other mice, but it looks like you both have a hard limit.

“I am in intense pain, Pinky.”

“Ditto, Brain. Zort!”

Well, okay, I guess it’s good that you are both cartoons, then. You boys should be able to shrug this off pretty quickly, especially Pinky.

OH GOD!

Is this what all those nightmarish close-ups of Brain were preparing me for?!?

“Fear not, Pinky, for the unwieldy atomic weight of gold will not thwart us tomorrow night.”

“Why? What are we doing tomorrow night, Brain?”

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky… Try to take over the world!”

You know, most cartoons would settle for them just being covered in bandages. Not Animaniacs, though. In Animaniacs were have to know that their removal from under the gold bar was so difficult and painful that fur was pulled out and they were left with bare, raw patches of skin. T-thanks, Warner Brothers?

Let’s end with a somewhat longer cameo appearance, as I suspect at this point Tumblr will have another fit if I try to combine two full episodes again.

The very next episode of Animaniacs has a skit called Hercule Yakko, which is a vague parody of Hercule Poirot mysteries. We get a good handful of cameos from the stars of other Animaniacs skits as passengers on a luxury cruise boat on the Nile.

The basic premise is that the Marita, one of the Hip Hippos, awakens in the middle of the night to find her comically large diamond necklace missing. The Warner siblings are a detective team who happen to also be onboard the ship and offer to help the hippo couple find it.

Before you ask, yes, this is the same episode as the infamous “fingerprints” joke.

Eventually the Warner siblings begin to go around knocking on the doors of the other passengers’ rooms to ask questions. They come across Slappy Squirrel first, who knows nothing about the missing diamond and just wants to be left alone to sleep. Then they meet Minerva Mink and, well, you can guess how that went. Then Yakko knocks on the last door.

“YES?”

Smol.

Look at them in their matching lederhosen! That’s absolutely adorable. Bravo to whichever of the mice had the idea for these “disguises”.

“Did you steal a big diamond?”

“No. We are Swiss hikers on holiday.”

Okay so maybe I’ll deduct a few points for wearing lederhosen, which is more associated with Bavaria and Germany, but claiming to be Swiss. Not that people in Switzerland didn’t also wear it, but you’d probably want to make your cover story as unsuspicious as possible, right? And that’s not even going into the idea of wearing a garment made from leather in hot, hot Egypt. These mice must be drenched in sweat…

“Look at me, Brain! I’m Heidi! Yodelehe-NARF!~”

Well at least someone in this duo is trying his best to reference things from Switzerland.

…Brain is the one that fucked up the lederhosen cultural background thing, isn’t he? Goddammit, Brain.

He just bonks the hell outta Pinky and silently slams the door in Yakko’s face.

After briefly talking with Marita, Yakko exclaims that he knows where the diamond is and asks that everyone assemble together in the state room. And so they do!

Aww, they’re sharing a chair because they are so, so tiny. :3c

“You’re probably all wondering why I called you here!”

“To reveal the thief?!?” says everyone in unison.

Minerva, you’re looking kind of weird in that second pic.

“No. It’s because you can’t play charades with three people.”

“That’s it! I’m goin’ back to bed.”

“So am I. I didn’t take the diamond!”

Man, Minerva really got a raw deal in the 90s. She only has two episode skits of her own and makes a few tiny cameos elsewhere, like in this one. I get that she was put on the back-burner as a character because her skits were considered “too suggestive”—and to be honest they were a bit over the top—but there are certainly ways that you can write a character who uses their sex appeal for comedic effect without it being disrespectful. It’s a shame they never tried to tweak the tone of her episodes just a tad.

But anyway, mice!

Brain is looking at Minerva with…worry? Concern? Confusion? Which is a very atypical reaction to Minerva. Gee, I wonder why.

Pinky is Looking Respectfully.

I’m never going to get over how cute they look in these outfits.

“I also am innocent.”

“Umm… I may have done it! I walk in my sleep, you know.”

Pinky, sweetie, I know you’re trying in your own odd little way to help but there’s no way you’d be able to carry a diamond of that size.

BONK!

This is the very last clear shot that the mice are in and it’s not very significant but I liked the angle of it.

Oh, you’re asking who took the diamond? No one did. The diamond was lodged in Marita’s butt fat the entire time. It’s the typical style of “humour” from skits with the Hip Hippos. Now you all know why no one is clamouring for their return in the reboot.

That’s it for this post, though. I should have the next episode that I promised would go with this one up in a day or two.

See you next time, folks, when we go off to the races!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Opportunity Knox

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red-writing-on-asylum-walls · 3 years

Text

FebuWhump Day 17: Field Surgery

Based on a series of drawings Em did a long while ago that I’m too lazy to go look up and link here.

I had Adagio for TRON playing on repeat for an hour while I wrote this because that’s my dramatically tragic writing music. Anyway, I don’t think this one turned out as well I imagined it in my head. But it was still fun to write. Most of what I know about “meatball surgery” comes from watching M*A*S*H.

Warnings: meatball surgery, improper tools for medical procedures, descriptions of medical procedures, vomiting, foreign substances, blood, trauma

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

“Are you sure you don’t want to go back? You don’t look like you’re doing that well…” Max hovers uncertainly, watching Milo stumble through the underbrush to catch up.

“No, no, I’m good,” Milo gasps, leaning against a tree, “Jus’…jus’ need to catch my breath is all…” Sweat has matted his hair to his forehead and he’s dreadfully pale, breath wheezing out of his lungs, his legs shaking where he stands. Max gives him a doubtful look and Milo plasters on a pained grin, straightening up, “See! Just needed a break! No prob—“ His smile drops and he convulses, hands flying to his mouth.

Black sludge erupts through his fingers and splatter down his front, staining his hoodie.

“Milo!” Max runs back as Milo’s eyes roll and his legs give out from under him. Max manages to catch his friend before he hits the ground, easing them both to the forest floor with Milo propped in hi lap. Milo’s eyes are lidded and unfocused, his nose has started bleeding and the red is tangling with steady stream of sludge oozing out of his mouth now.

“Milo! MILO!” Max presses his fingers to Milo’s neck, feels a pulse fluttering there, and then whimpers when Milo’s body shudders and a fresh deluge of gunk splatters down his cheek to splat into the undergrowth. Max’s eyes are burning and his hands are shaking as he frantically looks around for help.

But there’s nobody out except for them.

They’re in the middle of the woods, hiking around to nowhere in particular, exploring because the sun is out and the weather is nice and they had energy to burn.

They’re just kids and stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen to them.

“Help, help, gotta get you help…” Maxis mutters, shifting Milo in his arms as he clambers to his feet, “Could fly you back…would get me in trouble…no wait, I don’t know if I have the stamina to carry you and fly…” He looks around helplessly—nothing but forest and trees and nature and sunlight through the canopy and everything looks so happy when it has no right to! Milo gags, his head lolling backwards to expose the pale stretch of his neck, his throat bulging. Panicked, Max shift Milo so Milo is sideways in his arms and more of that awful, pungent black ooze comes frothing out of his mouth. There’s red in it now and Max doesn’t know if it’s from Milo’s nosebleed or something worse.

Something internal.

It’s hurting Milo.

It needs to come out.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Max hurries back the way they came to a clearing they’d passed through a few minutes before. It’s open to the sky, full of light and flowers. It’s very beautiful. And it has exactly what Max needs.

Max carefully lays Milo out on the soft green grass of the clearing and gently removes the stained shark hoodie, folding it up to rest under Milo’s head. Milo coughs up another bout of black sludge, his eyes closed now, his breathing weak and shallow. Maxis works faster, frantically trying to recall everything he knows about field surgery as he goes. He shoves Milo’s t-shirt out of the way and shrugs out of his own vest. The water bottle in his pocket is lukewarm and he focuses on channeling heat into it until it’s boiling. As it cools on the grass next to him, Max tugs at the loose thread of his t-shirt, carefully unravelling as much of it as he can. When his fingers fail, he pulls his pocket knife from his shorts and picks the hem of his shirt apart. When he thinks he’s got enough thread, he inspects his knife and tests the edge of the blade. Still sharp. He looks down at Milo’s pale face, stained in red and black.

“Sorry, Milo,” He whispers, “This is gonna suck a lot…”

Max pours the hot water over the knife first, then Milo’s chest, and then his own hands.

Then he kneels in the grass next to his unconscious friend.

The knife quivers in his hands and he has to take several steadying breaths. He’s never done this before, not on a live person. Not on a friend.

He expects Milo to scream when the knife cut into his belly. But the only sound Milo makes is a gurgling moan. More black sludge crawls up his throat and smears down his face. It doesn’t stop.

Max tears his gaze away from Milo’s face and concentrates on his work.

He tries desperately not to think about how this is his friend. He tries to focus on what’s in front of him and ignore the rattling wheeze of his friend’s labored breathing, tries not to look at the pale face smeared in gore. If he starts thinking about Milo, he can feel the desperate, hopeless fear and panic trying to claw their way to the forefront of his mind. And he can’t afford it. Milo can’t afford it. So Max grits his teeth and keeps going, stubbornly ignoring the tears that want to spring into his eyes and obscure his vision.

It’s bloody work and Max has never had so much red on his hands.

But he remembers his training, remembers where to cut and how to hold his knife, how to gently slide his fingers between membranes and organs. He knows Milo is losing blood and losing it fast, so Max just has to work faster. He tries to find something, anything out of place. But nothing looks wrong. Milo’s insides are the way a normal teenage boy’s insides are supposed to look and—

Max finds something dark and oozing clinging to the rear of Milo’s stomach.

That is definitely not supposed to be there.

Swallowing hard, Max slides his knife between the black thing and the organ. It takes a bit of careful leveraging but after a moment Maxis able to peel it off with a sort of awful slurping noise. It’s hooked to the inside of Milo’s stomach with a long, thin arm of sorts and Max carefully tugs it free, using his other hand to press against the small hole it leaves behind to prevent stomach acid from leaking into Milo’s abdominal cavity. He drops the black thing on the grass beside him and snaps the zipper off his vest, using his strength and powers to fashion it into a crude, thin needle. It will be messy but it will get the job done. A hospital can patch him up properly.

Milo still doesn’t move when Max stitches closed the tiny hole in his stomach.

Nor does he when Max holds his skin and muscles together and closes him with grey thread already staining darker with blood.

But he’s still breathing.

Max counts that as a win.

He splashes the last of the water over Milo’s front and tries to scrub the worst of the stains from his hands. They’re still dark and still very red.

Max glances at the thing on the ground that he’d pulled out of his friend.

He’s never seen anything like it before. He remember once Milo joking about having a parasite. Is this a parasite? It doesn’t seem right. Something about it has Max on edge. It fills him with a raw disgust and visceral need to get as far away from it as possible. Something about this thing is wrong. It’s iridescent in a way that somehow sucks in the line, a blotch of darkness on the world that prickles Maxis’ sense of danger, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He’s considering burning the thing with a well placed fireball when there’s a shift in the grass beside him.

Max snaps his head around to see Milo stirring. His eyes are wide open now, sickly and unfocused, dazed like someone’s rattled his skull. But at least he sounds like he’s breathing normally.

“Milo, thank goodness, I’m glad you’re awake,” Max sighs in relief, “I gotta get you to a hospital, though, you lost a lot of blood and—Milo, wait!”

Milo struggles to sit up, heedless of the pain he should be in with the fresh wound in his stomach. His head lolls, flopping almost lifelessly on his shoulders, mouth hanging open and sweat and tears mixing with the blood and gunk smeared on his face. He looks like a puppet on someone else’s strings, being dragged along to someone else’s song, and it’s got Max on edge.

“Milo, you need to lie down,” Max urges, putting a placating hand on Milo’s shoulder, trying to gently push his friend back. But Milo resists, leaning forward instead. One pale, quivering hand reaches under Max’s arm, “Milo! Please! You shouldn’t be trying to move right now!”

“…M…Max…” Milo wheezes and his voice sound hoarse, his throat no doubt raw and sore from the constant vomit.

“Milo! Milo, I’m right here!” Max grabs at Milo, holding him up as Milo sways alarmingly. There’s a distant fog in his eyes, staring into nothing, like he can’t see Max or the clearing or anything anymore. Adrenaline and panic start gnawing at the back of Max’s mind and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep them at bay.

“Max…” Says Milo in a voice that doesn’t sound like him at all. He sounds lost, hypnotized, vacant even. His hands paw at the air, shaking, and he clutches at the sleeve of Max’s shirt when he finds it, fingers dragging slowly at the fabric, “Mmmaaaaaaaxx…”

“Easy, Milo, take it easy,” Max shifts, sliding his arms around Milo as his taller friend clutches at him like a lifeline, “Deep breaths, Milo, deep breaths, it’ll be okay, I’ve got you, I promise, I’m right here for you!”

“Max…” Milo whimpers again. Confusion, vacant panic, desperation, something wholly and profoundly wrong twisting in his voice, “I…I can’t…I can’t…feel…I…”

It scares Max, this specter of his usually energetic and lively friend. Maxis has never been scared before, not like this. But this does not feel like Milo. This feels like an empty creature, haunted by something awful and unspeakable, and it fills Maxis with a dread he can’t put into words.

But Milo’s hands are holding onto him, clutching at him with a frightened familiarity. The way Milo had grabbed at him when that horror movie they’d been watching had scared him.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Max says, snatching up his vest and the shark hoodie, one to wear and one to tie around his waist for safe keeping. After a second of thought, he grabs the black thing still oozing sludge onto the grass and stuffs it into the pocket of his vest. Milo is clutching at him like he’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on and Max has to struggle with him for a moment before he can stand up, “I’m gonna get you to a hospital, okay? You’re gonna be all right, Milo. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.”

Max hefts Milo up in his arms despite his friend’s larger size. Then he takes off running, vanishing into the trees in a whirl of wind that rustles the grass and leaves with his speed. Milo lets out a choked sob in his arms and presses his face into Max’s stained shirt.

And Maxis, not for the first time in his life, wishes that his powers worked on people other than himself.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday17 #febuwhump2021 #micoverse #my bloody art

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atelier-dayz · 4 years

Note

⭐star⭐

The Patching Up Scene! 8D

After they hand off an excited Skywalker to the pilots in the cockpit, Jango isn’t completely sure why he follows Kenobi, though part of it is curiosity and another part practicality. Kenobi shoots him a questioning look when they reach his quarters.

“Do you need help with some of those wounds?” he offers. There’s one he can see, wrapping around Kenobi’s right side to his back. Jetii powers or not, he doubts Kenobi can treat it properly on his own.

“Oh…” Kenobi hesitates for a moment, but ultimately nods. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind.”

Okay, I honestly did not plan for this scene to happen! It just naturally happened, the next logical thing. Obvs Jango likes Obi, but also after a battle, you patch up your fighters. Nothing to question about it. *nods*

Between the two of them, they gather up the ship’s medkit, a small basin for the antiseptic wash, and a few scraps of clean cloth, before returning to the jetiise’s room.

The moment Kenobi unties his belt and starts unwrapping his tabard and tunics, sand begins skittering to the floor. Jango eyes the growing pile, thankful it isn’t his problem to clean up.

“Shouldn’t have laid down in the sand. You’ll be getting rid of it for days,” he says, and Kenobi shoots him a weak glare.

“I was tired,” Kenobi grumbles. “Besides, sand gets everywhere anyways.”

Kenobi strips down to his smalls with all the modesty -- or rather, lack thereof -- of a warrior who has been in front of too many medics. The myriad of scars of different ages on his body is certainly evidence of that. Jango is still baffled, because he’s fairly sure jetiise were less...careless with their padawans than that, but he saves those questions for later.

Obi’s childhood, man...and the scars you see are only the ones on the outside.

The wounds from the darjetii, now fully visible, makes Jango want to hiss in sympathy. Kenobi has two shallow burns on his left arm and one on his right forearm to join the old jetii’kad scars. But the Zabrak had cut deep into Kenobi’s right upper arm. Jango couldn’t quite see bone, but Kenobi is kriffing lucky to not have any nerve damage - at least, not that he could tell. Other than the wound that wraps around Kenobi’s side that he’d noted earlier, the last is a slash across the side of his left thigh, not as deep as the ugly one on his arm but deep enough.

I imagine some of the old lightsaber sabers came from too many tussles with Bruck.

You’ve got some pretty important nerves and arteries in your upper arm ie the radial nerve LOL The outer side of your thigh, not as much, hence the instructions for epipen injections to be given against the side of your thigh. 8D /random trivia

He’s honestly impressed that Kenobi could walk or move his arms so freely, much less continue fighting the way he had.

“Well, at least you’re not bleeding,” is all Jango can say.

Hurraaay instant cauterization (oof the burned tissue though)

Kenobi grimaces and sits himself down on the bunk they’d set the supplies on.

“Painkillers?” Jango asks, opening the medkit.

Kenobi shakes his head. “I’m alright for now. Perhaps before I sleep,” Kenobi says. “The Force helps me dull the pain.”

Jango huffs. More jetii sorcery, though that explains a lot.

He finds the antiseptic wash and pours it into the basin over the cloth they’d collected. They clean their hands, and Kenobi starts wiping clean his left arm, careful over the burns.

I almost glossed over this stuff, but it pained me to not mention CLEAN HANDS. Clean hands during wound care, folks. I restrained myself from having them dig out gloves or something LOL

“I’ve got your side,” Jango warns Kenobi, before pressing a dampened cloth to his right side. He starts cleaning the wound from Kenobi’s front before moving to his back.

Jango should have expected it, but somehow he hadn’t. Up close, he sees barely-there Lichtenberg scars that he’s seen before on others, from electro-jabbers held too long against skin. He also sees whip scars across Kenobi’s upper back, faded enough for Jango to tell he had gotten them far too young.

The slave guards on Bandomeer, to quote, “beat them savagely with an electro-jabber.” I imagine prolonged contact with an electro-jabber would lead to injury and scarring like you’d see in a lighting strike but smaller/more localized. (Note: Some caution if you google what it looks like!)

“How old were you?” he can’t help himself from asking, but managing at least to keep the words less sharp than he had wanted.

“What?” Kenobi starts to twist to look at him but thinks better of it.

Jango brushes a hand along one of the whip scars instead of explaining, and Kenobi stiffens for a moment, before relaxing. He moves on to cleaning his leg wound, and Jango thinks he might not answer, which is fair. Jango resumes cleaning the side wound.

“I was just shy of thirteen," Kenobi suddenly says. "Deepsea mining on Bandomeer."

Jango curses under his breath and has to keep himself from inadvertently pressing too hard on Kenobi’s wound.

Thirteen, as a mining slave. A deepsea mining slave.

Every slave knows that deepsea mining is the one of the worst positions to be in. The life expectancy is five to ten years maximum. Kriffing hell, some slavers use deepsea mining as a threat to make their slaves behave.

This I unfortunately based on what I learned about slavery on sugar cane plantations in the (American) South. Being sent South, to a sugar cane plantation, was a threat (Northern) slave owners would use to make their slaves behave. Life expectancy decreased dramatically if you were working on a sugar cane plantation. (If you’re in New Orleans for tourist purposes, many people recommend Oak Alley Plantation. But that’s because it’s very pretty. It glosses over its history of slavery though, and its tour focuses on the owners. Please go visit Whitney Plantation too. They do not gloss over the history and all the awful things that happened there. The tour guides are phenomenal, and you learn a lot from them.)

"It was only for a week, but it was long enough to...understand," Kenobi murmurs.

Long enough for him to have scars to this day. To say nothing about however it must have kriffed him up at thirteen.

"One day would have been too long," Jango growls. "Where was your jetii master in all this?"

He gestures roughly at Kenobi’s right arm, and Kenobi holds out his arm for Jango. Jango begins carefully cleaning around the deep wound.

“He wasn’t my master then,” Kenobi says. “To make a long and rather complicated story short, I had been sent away to AgriCrops on Bandomeer as a--failed initiate, and got myself involved in Master Qui-gon’s mission on Bandomeer. I discovered Offworld Mining tampering with AgriCorps and was captured...I woke up as a slave on one of their deepsea mining platforms.”

Even that sparse a recounting is too much to unpack. But foremost on his mind, the jetiise had sent Kenobi away to be a farmer? With everything Kenobi has said and especially considering the duel Jango had just witnessed...had they been blind? If there is such a thing as a good jetii, Kenobi is likely it.

👀👀👀 @ Jango

“How’d you get out?” Jango asks.

“Master Qui-gon found me. He disabled my collar, and we escaped the guards. We managed to disable the other slaves’ collars once we were on the mainland as well. They revolted and freed themselves,” Kenobi says with a small quirk of his lips.

Jango grunts in approval. “Good on them.” He drops his cloth into the basin. “Let’s get patches on your burns and your side. Your arm definitely needs stitches. It’s up to you on the leg.”

Kenobi looks at his leg wound thoughtfully. “Are there any of those deep incision BactaBonds?” he asks. “If not, then stitches will do.”

Mentioned it on AO3, but I based BactaBond off of Dermabond. it’s Dermabond but more magical because bacta.

Jango pulls out all the bacta patches they’ll need for Kenobi’s burns and side wound before digging around the kit. Sure enough, he finds a tube of BactaBond and the roll of mesh tape that came with it.

“You’re in luck.”

He hands the BactaBond and the mesh tape to Kenobi. Kenobi nods in thanks and begins fixing up his leg wound. Jango starts placing patches over the wound wrapping around his side.

Okay, so I want to note that when you have burnt up tissue, you’re supposed to remove the dead tissue when cleaning up burns because that dead tissue isn’t gonna do you much, but I didn’t want to get more detailed than I already was, and I decided to just...handwave it as part of the magical bacta healing effect LOL

They work in silence. Jango knows from experience the BactaBond and mesh tape can be an absolute kriffing pain to apply properly, so he tries not to disturb Kenobi as he finishes patching up his side.

He waits for Kenobi to finish with the mesh tape before handing him some dressing to cover the whole thing. They quickly cover up the burns on Kenobi’s arms with bacta patches before finally addressing the deep cut on his right arm.

“Are you sure you don’t want pain killers?” Jango asks, assessing the wound. It really is a nasty injury. With the BactaBond, he could probably get away with one layer of stitches instead of two or three.

“I will be alright,” Kenobi says again and hands Jango the BactaBond.

Jango grunts. “Suit yourself.”

He applies the BactaBond into the wound before pressing the wound edges firmly together. Kenobi doesn’t even flinch, sitting there quietly with his eyes closed while Jango picks up the suture needle and begins stitching close the wound.

I would like to draw this scene one day. Or someone can draw it for me. LOL

After some consideration, Jango says, “I was sold to a spice transport.” He keeps his focus on closing the wound as tidily as he can, but he can feel Kenobi’s gaze on his face. “I was there for two years.”

"...How did you end up escaping?" he asked.

"Pirates attacked the ship. I freed myself in the confusion and ended up making a deal with the pirates.”

“Quite a few pirates would take the spice and the slaves…” Kenobi remarks.

“I had the upper hand on them. Besides, ‘Hondo Ohnaka would never deal with slavery’,” he quotes, “or so he claims.”

"Ah," Kenobi says in the tone of everyone who has ever met Hondo Ohnaka. Jango pauses in his suturing to look at Kenobi.

"You’ve met."

Kenobi sighs, sounding as exasperated as anyone who has dealt with Ohnaka. “It was a very...trying mission.” He smiles wryly.

HONDO OHNAKA IS A DELIGHT. Also I love the idea that the pirates who attacked that spice transport and gave Jango the opportunity to escape were Hondo’s crew. Idea thanks to blue_sunshine’s Desert Storm.

Also the ways in which Jango and Obi can connect with their experiences. Just aaaaaaah *flailing Kermit*

“I am not surprised.” Jango finishes up the sutures and assesses his handiwork. It’ll do. “Patch or plain dressing on top?” he asks. He thinks plain dressing would do just fine, but the patch might not hurt considering the extent of the wound.

Kenobi gestures to the patch, so Jango applies the patch.

“Done. Listen to Jinn and get some rest. I was tired just watching that fight,” Jango says.

Kenobi gives him a half-hearted glare, but doesn’t make a word in protest as Jango stands and starts collecting all their first aid detritus. Despite his protests, Jango suspects Kenobi’s ready to pass out.

An hour long high speed lightsaber duel in the sand. Can’t believe Obi wasn’t asleep on his feet. LOL

#mand'alor and his jetii #manyangledone #miya replies #director's cut meme

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clansayeed · 3 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 30: The Last Act part 1

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Now that they're back on the surface, everyone struggles with the things they learned down below. Things they learned about Gaius and the First, things they learned about each other, and the ones they learned about themselves. But the worst is yet to come.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“That’s enough. Give it here.”

“No,” she shakes her head adamantly; the sudden dizziness tries to argue right back at her, “no I just needed to sit. I can do a little more.”

“I’m certain you can —”

“— then keep —”

“— but you need to rest.”

Her voice cracks in a whimper. “I will, I promise I will — but —”

“Enough,” Cadence snaps, stern only because he has to be; because this isn’t the first time Nadya’s tried to give more blood than her body can function properly without, “I won’t hear any more of it. You’re still weak, and this is a good amount… should last us the next day or so while you rest up.”

At least they’re both well aware of who exactly he’s talking to; and just how not-over-with this conversation actually is. They’ve had ample time to talk (read: argue) while he draws her blood with a steady, never-wavering focus. He knows she’ll argue this until she passes out from the blood loss. Just like she knows he’s only disagreeing with her because he feels like he has to. To get back on everyone else’s good sides.

Though… what did those look like, again? She’s starting to forget. Probably because she hasn’t seen them in a long long time.

Even if he’s still radiating frustrated vibes Cadence stays professional; every bit the real medical doctor as he eases the needle from the inside of her elbow and quickly staunches the last few drops with cotton. All of it methodical, perfectly normal blood-donating stuff. Until, that is, her vampire medic catches his thumb between sharpened teeth and nips the smallest of cuts. Just a drop is all it takes; one little red line swiped over the puncture mark and presto vanish-o.

A rueful smile tugs against her unwilling lips. She’s the farthest thing from a making-jokes mood but any time it happens they’re always in Lily’s voice. It’s such a comfort right now — they have no idea.

Cadence transfers her blood from the bowl to an empty blood bag; that gets traded out for the one from yesterday in one hand and the funnel on the drying rack by the sink in the other.

“Can I come with this time?”

Nadya’s caught him off-guard; faltering steps and his shoulders squaring off like he has an answer on the tip of his tongue, only to remember that he’s a good man.

“Just… don’t tell the others.”

Crossing her finger over her heart, she nods. “Promise.”

He makes her hang back five steps from the door while he opens it and makes sure the coast is clear. A stupid precaution in her eyes; if there really was a Feral vampire on the other side she doubts a door would be enough to hold the thing back. Her friends only have her best interests at heart, though, and she knows it. It’s just… fear makes people do weird things.

It can make them act out; be cruel… or unleash a vengeful bloodthirsty warlord on the woman who took away a century of his life.

Finally Cadence steps inside. He holds the door open and she ducks under his arm to squeeze through.

“Hey Lil’.”

She has the same first thought every time: she looks like she could be sleeping. Only Lily doesn’t sleep on her back, she sleeps like a dragon in a hoard of pillow-treasure. So this must be some other girl, is always the next idea. But that’s wrong too.

This is Lily; here and real and colder than the chilly bedroom when Nadya sits on the bedside and takes one hand in hers. And no matter how much this sucks it’s better than the alternative. Nadya knows they’re doing all they can here; like driving in an endless fog.

Cadence makes quick work of propping Lily’s mouth open with the funnel and getting this over with as fast as possible. Nadya would do the same — but because that’s just plain disgusting. Her friends keep these trips short and quick because they’re all still so weak. They can only resist open, fresh-ish blood for so long.

Together they watch, and wait; and Nadya never looks away from Lily’s closed eyelids. Part of her hopes and wishes they might twitch — or better, fly open. The rest isn’t sure what exactly would open those eyes. That’s the part that keeps her quiet.

Minutes that feel like hours that feel like years later, when there’s nothing left in the bag but veins made by the plastic, the vampire takes out the funnel and gives Nadya a generous bit of space for her patience.

Nadya moves closer; leaning and tugging out a wadded fistful of tissues because there’s something so wrong about seeing her blood dribbling from Lily’s lips. “I know you didn’t wanna get blood on this jacket,” she teases, “but frankly the fact that you still have standards after wearing it underground is a ‘you’ problem.”

Her lower lip wobbles. Keeps her from saying anything more — and Nadya has so much more to say. She only wishes she could punch the words out of her stupid stuck throat.

“You just keep getting better.” There are still times where Nadya wakes up fresh from living-nightmares of Lily’s body convulsing, drenched in sweat, black disease creeping up through her body and spreading like a mold. And while they have no real guess as to whether or not Nadya’s blood is reversing the corruption, they don’t know that it’s not. They do know that it hasn’t spread any further.

That’s more than enough reason to keep trying.

A few more tissues dab away little wet spots Nadya almost thinks are sweat on her brow. But then one falls on her hand. And another. And another. So she wipes her eyes instead.

“Just keep getting better — and when we get home I promise I won’t complain about your gamefest junk food trash for a whole month. Or…” because she can feel the judgment—really she can, “like not to your face anyway.”

She doesn’t expect a response, nor does she get one. Life isn’t that easy. “Love you,” Nadya says instead, someone has to have the last word, and with one last kiss to her forehead and and Cadence leave Lily alone in the cold and the dark.

Cadence, perceptively, gives Nadya her space back in the kitchen. He busies himself with the fridge door and cabinet and then there’s a glass of apple juice in front of her that Nadya would definitely prefer to be wine. She takes it with a nonverbal shrug of thanks.

“Ahem.”

“Hm?”

“Drink.”

Don’t think — drink.

Nadya flinches at the memory. Involuntary, no doubt about it; but Cadence sees it clear as day. Doesn’t see much point in hiding the hurt that flashes dark over his eyes.

She feels bad enough about it to down the entire cup in one fell swoop.

“Sorry… about that.”

“For what?” He shrugs her off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Nadya watches owlishly as he goes to rinse the dish out. Can’t shake the sneaking suspicion that he’s glad for any reason to keep his back turned.

“Cade.”

Who’s a little too heavy-handed putting the glass aside to dry; thankfully the bottom is solid enough that it doesn’t break but there’s always next time. Nadya waits — gives him time to compose himself and turn back around before she’ll keep going.

Instead he grasps the counter’s edge like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating off into the void of space.

“Do I sound like him?” he asks, and when his voice cracks he sags against it even more. “And please… please spare me the false confusion.”

You know exactly who I mean, is what he doesn’t say. The irony that he’d just tried to pull the same thing isn’t lost on either of them.

It’s a relief though. To not have to… ignore it.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want an answer.”

“Well —” Nadya worries her bottom lip; finds a small chipped-off spot on the floor tile and speaks to it instead, “— I mean yes, of course you sound like him. You’re the same… you know what I’m trying to say.”

They weren’t the same, though. That’s why this is so hard on him. Why his shoulders are shaking one wrong word away from a total episode.

“You have the same voice — his accent wasn’t quite right but, uh, yeah.” He doesn’t stop her, so she doesn’t stop. “But if you’re asking me if I looked at him and couldn’t tell the difference between you two? Cadence… that was the problem. That’s what we were all struggling with. The way he talked, how he carried himself; it was all just too strange. Too much, I think.

“I couldn’t see any of you in him and it—it was scary.” I thought I’d somehow killed you. Thankfully Nadya’s able to bite that particular confession back and swallow it down. She’s hurting him enough.

Though she almost doubts it — when Cadence finally glances at her in profile. Hair covering most of his eyes but not so much that she misses the flicker of hope there.

“You’re telling the truth?”

“I’m gonna pretend that doesn’t offend me.” His look turns imploring; desperate even. “Yes, I’m telling the truth. Cynbel was a jerk — pretty much the anti-you. And… yes, he got us out of there alive and yes he helped me try to save Lily even when the others wouldn’t and—and I don’t regret any of that. Not for one second.

“But I also don’t have the words for how relieved I was to see you wake up the other day. None of us knew what would happen while you were unconscious all that time. Serafine looked close to pulling out her hair.” Two beds, two friends. And two monsters that could have come out on the other side instead.

“Even I’m not sure I really know what happened,” and everything on his face screams about just how much that worries him, “the last thing I recall clearly was being in the front hall, back at the Manor, and running forward as you were attacked. Then…”

He tries to find the words. Nadya gives him the chance because she knows what that’s like. The confusion of knowing you were awake; you were there… and then suddenly doubting everything in your head because that’s no longer the case. But Cadence comes up short, to his chagrin, and just ends up looking like a fish out of water.

She knows that pretty well, too. “It happened. Nothing we can do will change that now. So now we just…”

BANG.

Another flinch — Nadya doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until her hand is deep in her jacket pocket with the metal ridges of Cadence’s switchblade handle digging into her palm.

“I have a few more we could try,” comes Serafine’s voice from the front room, “they are… distant, but not unfriendly.”

“No, no way.”

Adrian’s sigh is soft and weary. His voice so quiet that Nadya almost doesn’t hear him at all. “Jax, it’s not like we have a ton of options.”

“We don’t need options. We need decisions!”

Great. More arguing. She and Cadence glance at one another in silence. Should we go in there? We should. Do I want to go in there? No, no I don’t, but we have to. You take Raines, I’ll take Matsuo. Ugh, fine!

The taller goes first — not that it was planned. But it gives Nadya the chance to look Serafine over without Serafine doing the same. Just as she suspected — and just as it’s been every time she thinks no one is watching — the vampiress goes on alert the moment his foot crosses the threshold. Cadence is a trooper, though, and gives her about as much attention as he would the ugly flowery wallpaper.

He turns to take up a chair; isn’t even sitting down before the look is gone from the woman’s furrowed brow. Replaced by a weary smile that instinctively checks Nadya over for signs of (more) damage. “Sounds like you three had another fruitful evening,” he remarks dryly. And gets three nasty stares for his troubles.

“You think this is a time for jokes?” she snarls. But he doesn’t bat an eye.

“I think it’s too damn depressing right now to do anything else.”

Jax resumes his pacing near the window. Nervous energy desperate for an outlet; because somehow fighting back literally hundreds of Ferals was something he could get over in a week and a half. Adrian sits leaned over in his armchair, elbows on his knees and such a crumpled, forfeiting look to his soul that Nadya feels some of it seeping into her pores.

“Adrian?”

He lifts his head with a visible effort; too heavy for him to hold high like the Adrian she knows. She’s seen this look in his eyes before — when she had been returned from Gaius’ grisly dinner party. How is it so much has happened, so much has changed, yet she still feels so helpless to make it better for him? “What can I do?”

Nothing, and they both know it. Her hand, only half-reached out in offering, slides into his. When he squeezes it’s borderline painful, but she endures. Taking a moment to gather himself, Adrian wets his lips before speaking.

“Something isn’t right. It just isn’t… I feel it,” he grabs his middle with his free hand, “in here. I’ve exhausted every resource pooled between Kamilah and I in the last hundred years. Dozens of networks, forgers, freelancers. There’s just no way they’d all be gone. Not without reason.”

Nadya lowers herself to sit on the arm of his chair. “So we still haven’t been able to get what we learned about the stake to Kamilah, then.” Their faces say it all.

“Do we have any other options?”

“Yes!”

“No, we don’t!” Adrian’s anguish hardens into anger faster than Nadya has time to process. He rounds on Jax hard and resolute. “Because that is not an option. Not after everything they’ve sacrificed.”

She peers between Serafine and Jax over Adrian’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?” And anger or not, Adrian isn’t scaring Jax off of his plan easily.

“We need to go home.”

Oh. “But…”

“But what, Nadya? What? Because you’re dead worried, just like I am, hell just like you are, Raines. We don’t know anything — and we have a pretty clear answer on how to fix that. We go back and we help them there, on the home front. And when we know we’ve got our foot in the door then we get back to this Eternal Tree and Gaius-stake. But there’s no stake in the world that will help if we lose the city in the process.”

He burns with passion and conviction. This is Jax; of course he does. Even Nadya finds herself shifting on the cushion, weighing the pros and cons of his argument. “I want to Jax—I do.” And here come the dang tears again. “But what about Lily? If things are really as chaotic in New York as Cade said —”

“— oh they are —”

“— if they are… we need to keep her somewhere steady, and try everything we can before it’s too late. We wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Nadya tries to meet his eyes but the rebel doesn’t make it easy on her. At least he’s staying silent on purpose; that means he agrees with her whether it helps his case or not.

“I can’t… keep…” Jax’s voice shakes like an earthquake, “running and abandoning the people I promised to protect.”

That same passion and conviction suck the sound out of the room; make it so his hissed anger and clenched teeth sound loud enough to make her ears ring.

“Once was too damn much. I’m not gonna do it again. Not when it makes sense to go back and fight.”

“I’m not sure it does.”

He scoffs at Serafine’s words. “Of course it doesn’t, not to you. All you European vampires know how to do is run and hide.”

Even Cadence looks at him in surprise. “I don’t think that’s really fair… the world is different here.” But he should have kept his mouth shut. Now he’s a target.

“And you sound like you’re conveniently forgetting why that is.”

“I’m not.”

“It wouldn’t be the first thing you’ve forgotten when it suited you.”

Nadya blanches. “Whoa Jax — out of line!”

“No… he’s not.” He’s rattled Cadence; that much is obvious. But unlike he had back in the kitchen, this time the man swallows it down and raises his chin high. “I read the same books you did Matsuo. And maybe I haven’t said it enough, or maybe you weren’t listening the last dozen or so times, but I couldn’t apologize to any of you more than I already have — even if I wanted to!”

He stands, towers over Jax specifically but he holds his ground. Later on — like way way later on and under better circumstances — Nadya’ll remember this and admire him for it. But right now he just looks like a moron.

“You’re angry,” Cade continues, “I get that. Fuck, do I get that. You’re a man in control of his life; his strength. You made your place in the world to spite anyone who told you that you couldn’t. But this—this anger—comes from powerlessness.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You can’t protect the people you love. And what you can do — it’s taking too long. Try waiting a hundred goddamned years! I did everything I was supposed to and what did I get for it? I got a fat load of bullshit! I gave up a life! I gave up a wife!”

Nadya, Adrian, and Serafine all gasp. Did you know about this? Nadya gives a wide-eyed look to Adrian — but he’s just as surprised.

You’re angry. Well look who’s angry now.

Jax couldn’t care less. He snarls, fangs bared. “Are you seriously making my shit about you right now?”

And… Cadence isn’t. Cadence doesn’t. He shrinks away, all six feet of him seeming to curl in on himself. But he won’t back down.

“No, I’m telling you what you need to understand before anything more happens. Because there will be times your anger seems to come from nowhere; times where the only thing you can think, feel, bleed is a part of that rage. Of feeding it and letting it grow. But that’s all it wants from you. It wants to consume, to live. And there will come a time when you let it at the cost of everything you know is right.”

He shoves a wide hand against Jax’s chest. The man stumbles only barely. “You know what you want isn’t right, Jax. You know it puts you in power, and you know fighting will add fuel to the fire. But you also know all that will do is win you the battle and lose you the war. You’ll fight, and be angry, and still lose everything. But hey…” —stepping back, hands held up in surrender— “you fed the anger. It got what it wanted. You didn’t.”

If anything the argument could be made that Cadence’s (admittedly decent, in Nadya’s opinion) impassioned speech on anger only served to make Jax angrier. Until he surprises them all — and possibly even himself — and stands down.

His nostrils flare; the epitome of restraint.

“I can’t — no, I refuse to sit here with my thumbs up my ass for one more night. No more running around playing hide and seek with a bunch of cowards. They need to know what we know. So how do you suggest we get that in gear?

“We don’t even know if anybody’s still alive.”

“They were the last time I saw them,” says Nadya quietly; almost like an afterthought. It’s like remembering something from a long time ago. The boundaries of it blurred between the waking world and the one of dreams.

Adrian’s hand rests on her knee. “Well, yeah Nadya, we all saw them.”

Oh. She swallows around the sudden lump in her throat and looks away to hide her guilt.

“Unless…” because he’s Adrian, and Adrian knows her so well, “there’s something you’re not telling us…”

“It’s not that I was trying to hide it, I promise —” she throws a hand back towards the depths of the flat, “— I told Lily. But with everything that’s happened, and we needed to focus on Gaius and the memory of the First, and…”

“None of that matters now.” Serafine steps forward; her voice low and soft but that doesn’t make it any less commanding.

“But you need to tell us what you saw.”

Nadya nods.

It’s easier than she expected. And that’s not something she gets to say often. At first it’s a struggle to get everything right; she tells the ending like the beginning and can’t help but feel like she forgets something crucial. But like every other memory or vision once Nadya starts she finds that the words want to be spoken. The events want to be told.

Even if, in their wake, there are only more questions and the same amount of answers.

Beside her, Adrian’s got his deep-thinking face on. At least one of them is. “When was this, again?”

“I don’t know, that’s the hard part. I couldn’t get a date, or figure out if it was before or after Cade was here, or…” Her voice pitches in obvious distress. Immediately Adrian goes back to the soothing motion of running his thumb over her knuckles. It’s a big help, honestly.

“That’s okay. It’s more than we knew before.”

“The question is…” Serafine raises an eyebrow, “can you do it again?”

Can she? Nadya has no idea. This isn’t like with Serafine; she has no hands to hold. And this isn’t like with Gaius; she doesn’t have an entire library and a bloodline to help give things focus. But none of that really matters now.

“I can’t afford not to try.”

She wanders, dream-like, through the vast emptiness of the castle. Her feet feel as light as air. Nothing like the memories she’s used to — she’s already wading deep enough to drown and still can’t tell whether or not this is real.

At least Nadya is familiar with this part of the castle. The decor is changed, more deserved and tailored to fit the overall ‘modern tribute to history’ of the rest of the estate; and there are no more velvet ropes to deter curious minds from closed doors. She may not be lost but that doesn’t mean she knows where she’s going.

But Nadya doesn’t have time to doubt herself. Kamilah doesn’t have time for Nadya to doubt herself. So she lets her feet take her where she needs to go. Following the grand staircase just off of the main ballroom all the way up, then one floor more, to a set of wide double doors at the far end of the hall.

The chandelier lights catch on the nearby plaque; movement shifts in their dazzling twinkle. She whirls around, fearing for a moment for something behind her, but the corridor is abandoned. It’s just her here.

It couldn’t hurt to double-check. And she’s glad she does; Nadya catches her reflection in the sheet of polished gold and freezes in her tracks. Because that’s her reflection. Nadya’s eyes and mouth both wide with surprise. Not Kamilah’s — Nadya’s.

That can’t be good, she thinks fleetingly. But it doesn’t matter. She can’t let that stop her.

Not now.

She reaches for the gilded handle and pushes the door open to the Banner Westbrook Memorial Library.

In here, everything is exactly the same as before. From the polished display cases to the shelves lined neatly with tomes of all shapes and sizes. Muscle memory even tries to tug her away — just for a moment — and around the corner where it feels like just yesterday Adrian had healed the bruises on her neck.

Just the other day… and a lifetime ago.

But that’s not where she’s supposed to go, she’s pretty sure, and the impulse passes — easily forgotten. She keeps her feet on the path but doesn’t know where they plan on taking her. Not until she catches sight of a familiar pair of doors tucked away in a darkened corner near the back.

When Nadya enters the portrait hall, she isn’t alone. A familiar figure stands at the very end; his back turned and relaxed in a slight slouch in his gait.

Gaius doesn’t need to turn around, though. His portrait, regal and looming like a giant, does a fine job of glaring at her on its subject’s behalf.

Nadya steels her nerves and keeps moving. She comes up next to him in a way she wouldn’t dare in person. Close enough that a slight shift of her feet could knock them together; like an ‘oops, my bad’ moment on the average subway commute. Don’t ask her why she does it — she couldn’t tell you. But maybe when she looks back on it she could say it was an act of courage. A way to prove to herself that she’s no longer the girl running scared through museum shelves, or the one who jumped away from the mere memory of him.

Beside her, Gaius shifts his weight from one foot to the other and takes a slow, rich-person-pretentious sip of the liquor in his hand. It’s jarring — no — disturbing to see him act so… normal. Even Kamilah tended to unintentionally do her best impression of a living statue when she wasn’t doing anything in particular. But save breathing, here Gaius looks like an ordinary man.

And he is neither.

“Do you remember how it felt, that first taste of the potential of your power?”

Just like that all of her fear rushes back in icy floodwaters. Forget wading, she’s outright drowning. From the inside, somehow. Like it’s taken hold of her veins and filled up her belly and throat and now with nowhere to go but back down into her lungs.

What are you doing? You’re not really here, remember?

Oh, her…self… actually makes a really good point. She’s not really here. Gaius is alone — though she’d been aiming for a memory involving Kamilah and this is definitely very much not that but if she can’t get one simple thing right she might as well return to the others with something. Information on Gaius’ plans, movements, acts will have to do.

So… wait. Who is he talking to then?

Gaius waits, and waits, and waits for an answer that doesn’t seem to be coming. So unless the painting is going to start talking —

Then he looks down at her. At Nadya, not through her, and all bets are well and truly fucking off.

She backs away fast, practically tripping under her own feet until her sweating palms collide with the texture of dried oil paint of some vampire she doesn’t recognize. Who cares about any other vampire — Gaius can see her. How the hell can he see her?!

Gaius who just watches, cool and impassive, and clucks his tongue when she jostles the frame at her back. “Careful now, Nadya, that piece was the work of a master painter—and a dear friend. I would hate for your clumsiness to ruin it from so far away.”

So far away… “I’m… not really here?” The same mantra, but now, aloud, she’s uncertain. He’s not exactly the agreeing type.

“Of course not. How would such a thing be possible?”

“I’ve seen… a lot of impossible things lately.”

That earns Nadya a hint of a smile around the lip of his glass. “No doubt you have. Paris has always been a city of unimaginable wonders; wonders that pay no mind to the realms of dark and light. And with someone as well-traveled as our dear Serafine to show you around? Oh you must have been having such a wonderful little trip.”

She wants to shut down, to find the remote and turn this awful show off; to reach out and see if she can grab his throat like she can the painting frame and squeeze like that would do her any good.

But there are are a lot of things Nadya wants. She wants Lily to be better with the snap of a finger. She wants Lily and Mari to be able to hold each other again, wants Kamilah in the safety of her arms and vice versa. She wants Cadence to find peace and Jax to find purpose and Serafine and Adrian to get back to the way they had been before the dumb trip down to the dumb crypts.

Just because she wants something doesn’t mean she’ll get it, though. Not without a fight.

So no matter how much she wants to take off running (mentally, physically, psychically) back to Paris and the others and away from Gaius, who knows where they are and who they asked for help and knows exactly how scary that is to think about — she can’t yet.

Not without a fight.

Nadya knows full-well she can’t outwit him in word games. So she defaults to a classic man-deterrent — she straight-up ignores whatever he says.

“If I’m not really here, how can you see me?” How can you talk to me? Why aren’t you currently killing me? The important questions.

Her deflection doesn’t go unnoticed. Gaius is too good for that.

“You tell me.”

“Wow, you’re so original.” She replies, and gives possible the most dramatic eye roll of her life. He doesn’t even flinch. Darn it.

Instead Gaius shrugs it off. “I would have thought that by now you were tired of being on the sidelines of your own life.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Really?” His face falls in mock sympathy. “You don’t find some truth to the sentiment? Or are you as blind in the mind as you are in the eye — to the repeated pattern of events that constantly spiral out of control but never fail to pluck you up into the chaos as they go?”

Nadya keeps her back up against the wall; somewhere safe where no one can sneak up behind her. Gaius is dangerous enough no matter where he is. “You know… I’ve had kind of a long week. I’m really not in the mood for your weird word puzzles.”

“They aren’t puzzles. I couldn’t speak any plainer if I tried.”

“Then I really feel bad for anyone who has to talk to you for longer than five minutes —” —a beat— “— myself included.”

“Maybe this will give you clarity, then. Aren’t you tired, Nadya Al Jamil, of having the events of your life told to you? It seems to be the only constant, to the outside observer.”

Which makes her snort a little too loudly. “I hope you aren’t talking about yourself. Most of the crap going on right now is your fault anyway.”

“I know,” he inclines his head, “so I ought to know better than anyone, wouldn’t you say?”

Nadya doesn’t say — but they both know why that is. He’s right. “I’ll give due credit to your natural curiosity. You’re always asking questions — not necessarily the right ones, or at the right time — but your take initiative to seek out the knowledge you need. But you never really seem to find it for yourself, do you. You simply fumble along on your fragile little mortal body until someone comes along and takes you by the hand. It’s convenient… I’ll give you that too.

“But if there’s one thing I’ve come to loathe about this new century; the age of technology and modern conveniences, is exactly that. Because convenience breeds laziness; breeds contentment and expectation.” His upper lip curls — and just like that his charming little smile becomes a wicked discontent.

“Here and now you wait on bated breath for me to just tell you the answer. You are the driving force behind everything—everything that has happened and all the things yet to come. Our little tête-à-tête included… but you do not so much as lift a finger to seek your own truths. You would rather they be given to you.”

It’s funny — here Nadya had been ready to accept that this will be the best she gets out of her attempt to breach the psychic barrier and find Kamilah, and to maybe give Gaius a few rousing sassy jabs she wouldn’t dare be brave enough to say in person while she’s at it. But she’s not the one doing the jabbing. Short, sharp and shallow wounds that make her red in the face with her fists balled up tight at her sides.

“You have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well, no, that’s entirely false. I know everything about you, my little Bloodkeeper. Even things you don’t know about yourself.” Gaius’ eyes flicker red then, so quick and subtle that Nadya doesn’t think he’s even aware it happened.

“Especially things you don’t know about yourself.”

Her face burns hotly. “And that’s my fault? I didn’t choose to be this. Actually — that was you who chose for me.”

“You can tell yourself that if it helps. Though I can’t say denial makes for the strongest of moral codes.”

“You wouldn’t know a moral code if it poked you in the butt.” Did she really just say that?

The same question is written across his brow as it arches high, dark and neat.

“So when you abandoned the city you yearn so desperately to protect, was that a part of your morals?” No… he’s not… “When you willingly turned tail to run; when you left your friends, family, and… those you feel affection for behind. All part of this upstanding moral code of yours?”

He’s baiting her. Voice lilting, little finger tapping mutely against the side of his tumbler. The picture of easy breezy conversation and he knows it.

She won’t stoop to his level. Nadya answers him honestly; “No, and to tell you the truth I’d give up a lot to have never gotten on that plane. But I shouldn’t have had to leave. Your vision — your perfect vampire world — it’s impossible. I wouldn’t have needed to leave her behind, Gaius, if you weren’t so hell-bent on following in the crazy footsteps of a madwoman.”

The glass shatters in Gaius’ grip. Thin little lines of blood seeping through the crevices in his fist, drip-dripping down onto the no doubt expensive and antique floor runner. His hand snaps open like a trap, and the last shards of broken glass fall from his unmarked hand.

There isn’t a fleck of light left in his eyes.

“Watch your tongue.” And for just a moment, or a shadow of one, Nadya swears she can hear the tiny waver in his voice. Not enough to matter, or be symbolic of anything. But enough to prove a point.

In that shadow of a moment he’s not Gaius, King of Vampires; he’s Gaius, Rheya’s devoted Soldier. Powerless to save her and always—forever—too far away.

Nadya dares to step forward. “Why,” she challenges, “did I say something wrong?” Gaius raises his chin, looks down on her more than he already is; classic power move and she sees right through it.

“Because I don’t think I did. It’s your fault we had to leave, which means it’s your fault Kamilah had to stay behind, and all of it because you’ve spent three thousand years following some version of Rheya’s crazy plan — her failed plan to boot.”

“You know nothing of which you speak.”

“What does that make me then,” she asks, “Am I a blasphemer, Gaius, because I don’t blindly follow the Church of the First Vampire?”

Gaius’ voice rings in her ears. Not the one here in front of her; he doesn’t have the passion for it. But the Soldier, righteous in that cave and ever-loyal at Her side. She’s hearing a memory.

“Blasphemer!” Echoing out in her mind; filling her with conviction.

“Traitor.”

“Is Kamilah a traitor for what she did to you? Not locking you away — that didn’t matter. But she was supposed to be your Queen… until she wasn’t.”

“Insolent little —”

“Coward!”

“Oh no you don’t — I’m not done yet.” She actually interrupts him; even Nadya has a hard time believing it. But that’s nothing compared to Gaius, who looks like he’s just been run over.

“And Adrian too, right? Because you and I both know he was never as loyal a Soldier to you as you were to Her. Then again—talk about high standards. Why do you think that is? Why did you try to build a Soldier only to end up with a coward?”

His crystalline eyes go wide. This close Nadya can see the whites all the way around; the hint of the tip of his fangs between parted lips. This time it’s the King of Vampires who steps away, not the little mortal girl. But with the same traces of fear lingering in the air.

And Nadya? She has absolutely no regrets.

Well… maybe one or two. Especially when, finally, Gaius smiles.

“I see.” He shouldn’t be smiling. That doesn’t stop him. “That’s a very… unique selection of words Nadya. Paris has made you quite the young poet from the sound of it.”

She swallows audibly. Where the heck did that confidence go, and can it come back?

“It’s a beautiful city,” she agrees though every word is laced with caution like a thin film of arsenic, “I found it especially helpful in jogging some old memories.”

“I look forward to hearing more about them.”

“Uh…” Suddenly it almost hurts to look at him; like he’s burning alive inside — a sun in flesh. Nadya looks around desperate but in vain; the only eyes that stare back are frozen in time and place. Not even the familiar face beside Isseya’s stoic likeness can help her now.

“I don’t plan on staying — I shouldn’t even be here to begin, so...” You know.

Oh, he knows. There it is; knowing shining through all across his face. It occurs to Nadya then, when it might be two seconds shy of too late, that she’s the one out of the loop.

“Maybe not tonight, but I have every confidence I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

He looks like his soul is on fire but that doesn’t change the fact that the hand he reaches up to brush a thumb across Nadya’s cheek isn’t anything other than ice cold. He whispers, like an afterthought; “And with so much for you and I to catch up on… after all these years.”

Gaius can touch her.

Nadya makes a run for it. Sprinting back down the length of the room to the doors both barely hanging ajar. What am I doing? I need to wake up. How do I do that? Figure that out later! RUN NOW!

Holding her hands out in front of her, Nadya prepares to scramble a flight to safety — and collides with solid stone instead. A stone that grips her upper arms, feels her shaking, and looks down with ancient, distant eyes riddled with confusion.

“Nadya? But how —” Valdas cuts himself off before he can fully ask, and looks between her and the approaching Gaius with uncertainty. Realization comes over him and eclipses the muted melancholy; a shadow over the moon.

Nadya would have struggled if she had the time. But things are always moving a little too fast for her these days. And here, in this semi-reality where she’s both at Marcel’s castle in New York and in the apartment in Paris, is no exception.

As it is, she barely manages to wrench one arm from his grasp before the Trinity vampire tugs her by the other. His breath and the whiskers of his beard tickle in her ear. “Remember what I told you—” Then the scrape of millennia-old callouses on fingertips presses at her temple.

Nadya’s eyes fly open. The sting of unshed tears finds release, warm tracks carving into her cheeks. She wishes one would warm the place where Gaius had touched her cheek, but wishes don’t always come true.

She can still feel it. Still see the details in his irises, and that awful light glinting in his eyes.

“I don’t like that face.”

Jax’s surly comment brings her back. Back from where she doesn’t know — doesn’t want to. All she knows is she’s back, all four limbs and ten fingers that wind their way into the fabric of Adrian’s jacket and refuse to let go.

“Hey, hey,” he shushes her; pets her head slow just like Lily would, “you’re okay, you’re okay now. You’re back here, you’re okay.”

He’s stayed kneeling by her side this whole time, apparently. Not just a tether to Kamilah and home but to Nadya herself. Right now Adrian’s hand on top of her head might be the only thing keeping her from dissipating into oblivion.

Serafine is in the same seat across the table; looking like she doesn’t know what to make of Nadya in this state. Join the club sister.

“There is — hein, where are you going?!”

Just like she had in the portrait hall, Nadya takes off without looking back. Her limbs prickle, angry pins and needles demanding she slow down. But she can’t. She’s still… not here, not here, not anything. But in all she doesn’t know, the one thing she does is easily plucked from the air.

“I need a window.”

“Oh, I think she might be sick.” Says Cadence with an audible cringe. Nadya ignores him.

“A window! Now!”

She’s been wandering this apartment like a ghost for the last week and a half; she knows where the windows are. But between her sleepy limbs and the feeling of drowning in her own lungs it takes Nadya more than a little effort to find them.

“Open the damn window, Raines!”

“Jax, I swear —”

But Adrian puts his frustration aside — for her. For his worry for her. In a blurred step he passes her by and unlatches the window, pushing it out wide open for her the moment she arrives at the ledge. Nadya collides with the sill hard enough to knock the wind (and nonexistent watery fear) from her lungs; leaving her breathless.

“What do you think you’re doing, foolish girl?” Serafine keeps going, keeps scolding her — but she’s just wasting her voice. It buzzes like a fly in Nadya’s ear; fading, fading, then gone altogether. All of their questions, guesses, demands end the same way.

Pure silence. She shreds through it with her tongue like a knife.

“He said he’d be seeing me ‘very soon.’”

Her friends exchange similar glances. Worry on fear on an understanding because who else would she be talking about? There’s only one man that makes sense.

“That’s not possible Nadya.” Adrian tries his best to reassure her — but his own hand betrays him. This time it rests on her far less steady.

“Moreover it’s not happening. So why don’t we close the window, get something in your stomach, and…”

His voice trails off; watching, transfixed, as Nadya lifts her arm out from the window. Her finger pointed to the slumbering outer-city streets below.

A tiny red light moves in the darkness, flickering and spluttering on its dying breath. The cigarette filter serves one last inhale before being tossed in a small arc to the pavement underfoot.

A sleek, expensive shoe comes down and grinds the last of the embers into powder.

She doesn’t recognize the man — but she doesn’t need to know who he is; what he is shown in red eyes that flash and fade back to the play-act of a mortal. His shoes are dark, his suit is dark; the close-cropped and almost military shave of his hair is dark, too.

But not his smile. That is warm, inviting even in the black of night. Like the cherry-end of a cigarette.

The woman who comes up beside him, though — there’s no mistaking her.

Isseya looks up first. Locking gazes with Nadya, no searching needed. The sickening truth right before their very eyes. They knew we were here.

Gaius’ laughter still thrums in her blood. His words burrow deep in the marrow of her bones.

“I have every confidence I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #kamilah x mc #choices fanfiction #adrian raines #gaius augustine #jax matsuo #lily spencer #serafine dupont #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: cadence smith #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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