#If you don't manage to access this space there's a good chance of being Stuck as a man with any deviance from your expected

[serpentface]

What's the Wardi cultural take on Akoshos sleeping with/partnering with/marrying other Akoshos?

It's not highly regulated to a degree that there are overwhelming cultural norms about it. There's a lot of societal focus on akoshos being theoretically suitable sexual partners for both men and women due to being dual-gendered, but not to an extent that relationships with One Another are stigmatized.

They also largely get to escape from the most severe concerns about penetrator/penetrated power dynamics because they're not regarded as Men (they're regarded as dual-gendered, and they're a female social class on every practical level), there's no status of manhood to Lose by receiving sexual penetration. The only real thing you see in that department is people assuming that one acts as 'the man' and one acts as 'the woman', but this is largely due to preoccupation with a notion of sex being Penetration With A Penis (and that Penetration With A Penis means that one person is in a Man's Role and one person is in a Woman's Role). But this will not be regarded as unnatural as in same-gender male relations, akoshos will Have to take up a position in this sexual dichotomy if they want to have Real Sex (Penetration With A Penis) with each other, and this is not unnatural and doesn't involve gaining or losing status since they are simultaneously male and female, not men.

So like you might see individual culture critics finding stuff to nitpick about it as their annoyance of the week or a singular Guy here or there who thinks it's weird, but this isn't a widespread norm. The vast majority of people don't give a shit about akoshos having sex with each other. The worst thing you're likely to experience Solely by virtue of being in an akoshos-akoshos relationship is someone asking you (probably with genuine curiosity) which one does the man stuff and which one does the woman stuff.

Akoshos also don't experience Hard expectations for marriage (though there are societal pressures that make marriage an attractive safety net all the same, ESPECIALLY marriage to a man) so unofficial life-partnerships between akoshos are pretty much the Only same gender partnerships between unwed people that are going to go unquestioned. ((Sworn brotherhood is technically a same gender life partnership for men that is Functionally similar to marriage (in that it's a kin-making practice between unrelated adults), but the tradition is Built upon the assumption that both parties will be married to women and that a primary goal of this kinship is to provide security for both parties' wives and children)). Marriage obligations in general are more lax in the economically secure but not Wealthy lower mercantile classes (as obligations to support and perpetuate one's family are universal, but these obligations can be filled simply by having at least One son who can get hitched, and marriages in the lower classes have no political functions and therefore there's less reason to ensure All your children are wed (there's still incentives like dowry, but this is not desperately needed when a family is economically secure)). So akoshos in this class group tend to have a Lot more freedom in terms of their life arrangements and chosen partners (though still experience the limiting frameworks of structural misogyny in other capacities).

The only thing that is out of the picture is akoshos/akoshos marriage. Marriage in this society has a predominantly reproductive function, the concept of reproductively non-viable marriages is generally considered absurd. This is not JUST this culture's form of homophobia, as marriage is a very practical arrangement at its core - both in a reproductive capacity and as bedrock for the patriarchal blood-kinship family system that forms the core social unit. The idea of same gender marriage isn't just absurd because 'ewwww weird' it's like, that Cannot work within this system, it Cannot fill core functions of what a marriage intends to do here, the ways on which marriage and kinship are BUILT makes same gender marriage practically (rather than just socially) untenable.

The sole exception to the 'marriage = reproductively viable" rule is that akoshos can be married to men (which in practice is almost always as a remarriage after a man has secured At Least an heir). This has a Little bit of internal logic here in that they perform predominantly female social roles (thus are suited to being a wife, even if they can't bear children) (and also on practical levels of them having the same legal status as women) but it's really more of a 'this is just how it's always been' kind of thing. A lot of the older pre-Wardi identity dual-gender roles that got mashed together under the 'akoshos' name would have involved marriage to a man as a second wife/concubine, in addition to his primary wife who would bear his children. Men potentially having multiple spouses has not been retained as a cultural practice, but the notion that an akoshos Can be a wife to a man has survived into modern day legal and doctrinal practices around marriage.

So like this being said, marriage as it is legally defined is only between a man and a woman, a man and an akoshos, or a woman and an akoshos. In practice the latter two are comparatively VERY rare- a man/akoshos marriage cannot provide children (though an akoshos can practically fulfill all other obligations and duties of a wife), a woman/akoshos marriage Can provide children (and while akoshos cannot function as a male heir, these children Will take their akoshos-parent's family name (though the wife retains her father's family name)), but akoshos are legally grouped with women in terms of rights and privileges (including being permanently under legal domain of their father unless they have been legally handed off to a male husband) and Cannot provide hard power patriarchal support that this family system is built upon and therefore depends upon, which makes these marriages socio-economically insecure. They can obviously still be a good partner and parent, but this is not the same as having the Legal hard power of a patriarch.

Akoshos marrying each other would be reproductively and socially nonviable, and is treated as a similarly absurd concept to a man marrying a man or a woman marrying a woman. It's just not a part of the marriage and kinship framework, it's not a thing that you can Do.

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 3: Campus/Con Crud (M, cold)

yayyy, Joseph prompt. I am one of the people who loves pointing out the irony of a sick doctor that he complains about, so now you get a whole prompt about it! 2.2k

⁂

It is impossible, truly, to avoid the oncoming 'fresher flu', or whatever other coy little term it's stuck with. A large number of people congregating, mingling, away from home for the first time and desperate to make a good impression; it's a recipe for one person tracking something into the university, and it spreading like wildfire amongst the population, whether they be student or staff.

Of course, he's no fool. He takes more than adequate precautions, but all the caution in the world is unable to do anything to prevent contracting something entirely. He may as well pin his same hopes on holding back an ocean with a sheet of paper.

And so here he sits, holed up in his office like a hermit while he feels this cold settling in full force. He wrinkles his nose against the feeling of it, everything damp and thick like it's trying to become a swamp in inflamed sinuses. He blows his nose, frowns more deeply, and blows it again. It does little to ease the discomfort, but does provide a small amount of relief in allowing him to breathe somewhat more easily, at least for the next few moments.

He squirts some hand sanitizer into his palms, even if by now it's somewhat of a moot point. If someone doesn't get something from him, they will get it from someone else. That doesn't mean, of course, that he shouldn't still be cautious--he is, after all, a medical professional. To transmit something to someone else, they would need to actually enter his office, but no one has signed up for his office hours, and it's customarily silent in here, save for the sound of his sniffling.

It hasn't quite progressed to the sneezing just yet, but there's that niggling irritation in the back of his nose, nestled deeply within where no amount of sniffling, or rubbing with tissues, or blowing his nose will truly clear it. It will only be satisfied by a truly scraping sneeze that will scratch the itch, if only temporarily.

The door opens, much to his surprise, and Monty slips in as unobtrusively as he can manage. "Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Dr. Valentine." He goes to raise his mask, but Monty waves him off. "Don't bother, I'm sure I've already got it coming down the pipeline. My roommates all came down with it earlier this week, and there's really not much room to stay away from eachother."

He doesn't shrug, but does give a slight nod of affirmation. "You're free to make your own decisions." He nudges the box of tissues in between their two desks, to keep it in reach of the pair of them. He doesn't exactly want to share the box, he would much prefer unfettered access to them, himself and no one else. But it's important to be generous and open--or so says the HR department.

They love to fuss and fawn and breathe down the back of his neck, but rarely seem to actually take "yes" for an answer. He's not going to be kissing babies or shaking hands, and that seems to be the only thing that people want to see. No one cares about the fact that he has opened his office to another person. That he is sharing the burden of his workload. That he is being so gracious as to even share his tissues with someone else.

It's not so much the tissues that he's really focused on, it's the concept. It's the fact that he is being so gracious, that he is working so diligently to appease the desires of the people who need to feel so important that they have nothing better to do but hound him, and no one is giving him the credit he is due for it. To buy him a bit of breathing space from the fears that they will take away his final chance to have a TA, that he is some cruel beast who is going to chase this one off like all the others.

"You should be resting, if you're coming down with this."

He laughs, adjusting the thin wire frames of his glasses in that unconscious habit of his. "I could say the same to you, really."

He takes off his reading glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes, something to fend against the dull headache that's starting to grate at him. "You're right."

It's a surprising admission, clearly, because Monty looks like he's been nearly knocked out of his chair just to hear it. "Did I hear you right? You, Dr. Valentine, are admitting that you're willing to go rest?"

"That's where you're wrong. I admitted I should be."

"Doctors make the worst patients, then?"

"And I'm one of the worst." He sniffles, distinctly aware of just how wet the sound of it is, and plucks a couple tissues from the box. He can feel that nascent tickle, the feeling of it beginning to slowly unfurl and brush delicately along. He grits his teeth slightly, waiting for it to decide whether or not it's going to become an actual sneeze.

And it does.

He takes a sharp gasp, and sneezes harshly into the handful of tissues, his shoulders jumping hard from it. "HH'RRASSHHue!" It scrapes roughly over his throat, tears through his sinuses in a way that does, thankfully, scratch that irritation.

Monty jumps, looking up from his laptop. "Jesus! Bless you!"

He glowers over his steepled hands, nothing but exhausted and angry eyes above the painted nails.

"Right. No blessings. You got it."

He waits until he sees him swivel his chair back to what he's doing before he finally relaxes his shoulders, blows his nose harshly. It was satisfying, this time at least. It'll become less effective later, when he gets into the thick of this cold. For now, it's an effective, if momentary, relief of the tickle. He sniffs again in the aftermath of it, the action feeling significantly drier and less wretched than it did beforehand. He knows it's going to refill soon enough, his mucous membranes working overtime to attempt to flush this virus out of his system, but for now he's thankful for what relief he can scrape together.

"This is one of the things you must accept, as a medical professional." Monty doesn't turn to look at him, and for once he's thankful to not have to be making eye contact. "You will still always get sick, no matter the precautions you take, and no matter the attempts at diverting the course of nature. Being the 'sick doctor' is something that people always find deeply amusing to point out the irony of, and something you must accept."

"I don't think people usually hold it against anyone. Like you said, it's impossible to avoid--especially this time of year, when it just wreaks havoc on everybody."

"And yet. And yet." He swipes a pair of tissues from the box, folds them in half in preparation. "People will point it out as if you're supposed to be able to make it happen. As if being ill is some moral or professional failing on your part."

"I guess it's hard for people to sort of separate the professional from the profession."

"The 'campus crud' and 'fresher's flu' and whatever else they decide to call it. Every year it takes its toll on the populace of any school, and every year everyone wrings their hands and fusses and frets because it's inevitable. Would I prefer that it was something we could actually truly avoid? Something which we could actually force the steps necessary to minimize its effects? Certainly. Who wouldn't, especially as a medical professional? But as it stands, we can only work with the authority which we're granted, and that authority doesn't extend much farther than the walls of this office, or occasionally the classroom in which we're teaching." He sniffles, and takes the tissues from his desk. "Don't startle, this time."

"Doctor?"

" 'RRSSHHue! HH'RRASSHHue!"

He sniffles in the aftermath, holding his position for a second longer than he really needs to ensure he's finished, before he straightens up and pinches at the tip of his nose.

He looks like he tried his best, but it's impossible not to notice the jump in his shoulders, the way he looks more like a prey animal than a TA. "Bl--" He falters under the waspish glare. "--ack. Black...uh, polish. It suits you." He gestures flashes his own bare nails for emphasis.

"Don't get used to wearing it if you want to be in the operating room." Even though he just sneezed, it hasn't fully scratched that itch. He grants himself the indulgence of wrinkling his nose hard against the feeling, and sniffs sharply, the liquidy sound blunted by the congestion preventing it from being wholly effective. "Some hospitals allow it, but I would discourage its use. One of the many perks of teaching, rather than doing."

He leans forward slightly, takes another couple of tissues and blows his nose thoroughly, before squirting hand sanitizer into his palms. Monty's stopped working entirely, it seems, because he leans back in his own chair and makes some vague motion with his pen. "And the schedule, I'm sure."

"I don't miss being on call. I will likely never be able to hear the sound of a pager without that instinctive jolt of adrenaline that tells me something is happening urgently."

"You still have it, I'm guessing?"

He offers a faint, wry smile. "I'm not one to throw out perfectly good technology."

"I don't think you're beating the old man accusations at this rate."

"Let them make whatever accusations they want. I'm middle-aged, but old to those doe-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen who think that anyone over the age of thirty-five is going to keel over and die at a moment's notice." He rolls his chair across the floor mat and grabs a stack of papers from the printer. "Here. Tomorrow's lecture notes, you're going to be my annotation."

"Wow, and just when I thought the exciting world of Molecular & Cellular Basis of Disease couldn't get any more exciting, now I get to annotate a stack of papers that are their own basis of disease."

He scowls. "If you're implying that I've handed you lecture notes I've been using as a tissue, you're insulting me."

"I wouldn't say insulting so much as, like, good-natured ribbing."

"Don't."

"No ribbing? No friendly joshing?"

"Get out of our office."

He certainly isn't going because he's been told to, but he gets up nonetheless. "Fine. I'm getting a Monster."

"I will remember your kidneys fondly."

"You'll be my donor?"

"I will not be offering you my kidneys, nor my surgical prowess."

He rolls his eyes, but continues out the door nonetheless.

He massages his sinuses now that Monty is out of the room, granting him the privacy to be a little more indulgent in the way he tackles this cold. He is not optimistic that it's going to be over soon, nor gently. His nose is prickling with irritation, and he can feel how warm it is to the touch, blushing from the abuse it's been taking. He's always been somewhat chagrined by how quick it is to redden from his attention, drawing everyone's eyes to it without any chance to say no.

He glances towards the ugly fluorescent lights outside of his office in the hallway, the light harsh in the little window by the ceiling. It does enough, this time. "Hh'RRISSHhue! Hh...hH'RRRSSHhuh!"

He sighs, and brings a hand up to rub his throat with a little wince. The curse of the 'dad sneeze', as it were, is that an already tender throat is only made more so by them. He blows his nose, and pinches at his nose. This has, finally, seemed to scratch that itch fully. He's bought himself a bit of time before the next time, and in so doing has bought himself the time to start annotating a test that's already starting with several wrong answers in a row. Joy.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again, the headache trying to push through the malaise. He's going to have to sleep early tonight. An extra hour of rest, perhaps, carefully rearranged to fit into his busy schedule. He isn't planning on taking any time off--for a cold, especially one so minor as this--would be foolish. And, of course, this early into the quarter, it would be not only unprofessional but setting his students up for failure. Missing time as a student? Difficult, but able to be made up. Missing time as a professor? It sets the entire class behind.

He's never smoked, but there's occasionally that desire within him to go take a smoke break. That immediately soothing of tension, of frayed nerves and discomfort eased. He takes a sip of coffee instead--a different concession to himself, one that isn't recommended but is more tolerable than alternatives. His mug, some old, kitschy thing with a bat that was a gift from a friend years ago, shows its age in the fading color and the surface cracks that run along it.

Simply another storm to be weathered.

[darkpoisonouslove]

8, 12, 22, 23, 27? :D

Hey! My brain was fried this last week but let's try this now!

8. Talk about a movie you love

I watched The Martian for the first time last year (it was actually the first movie I watched that year) and I've watched it about 5 times since then because it is so good! First of all, the director did a great job and that's not something that I usually tend to notice. But there are two specific moments that really stood out to me here - when we see the first potato plant that Wattney managed to grow on Mars and then when Wattney sees another human for the first time in years during the "extraction" for him. I'm telling you I CRIED! Second of all, the movie manages to be consistently funny despite how dire the situation is, which I think is not just a great choice but the only viable path to take this. The situation is extremely insane - an astronaut was accidentally abandoned on Mars because his crew thought him dead but it turns out he survived and now they have to race against time and space's constant attempts to kill him to get him home with the odds of success being extremely slim. It hardly gets more tense than that. But Wattney - the guy that was abandoned on Mars and could die any second, is the main catalyst of the funny moments in the movie. His situation is as dire as it gets so he copes through humor. It's the most human thing to do and instantly helps you as a viewer connect with him and feel just like he does. And voila! You're immersed not just in the story but in the emotions that Wattney himself is undergoing as someone who's stuck by himself on Mars. Instant success in making the movie touching and memorable. And third of all, this movie gives me hope for humanity. There is a lot of bureaucratic obstacles to overcome and certain people tend to get lost in protecting their public image but, ultimately, the entire world comes together in hopes of saving this one man that is fighting for his life every day on another planet. if anything, it's a perfect demonstration of why and how humanity has survived as long as we have - cooperation. And there's also a lot of really interesting problem-solving involved in the whole process that doesn't hurt the movie one bit. Actually, the science in it is very accessible, they explain everything and it's all captivating to watch. I highly recommend to anyone who hasn't seen it and if you've seen it, go watch it again!

12. Talk about a performance you love

Naturally, I cannot remember a single performance that has ever stood out to me now that I actually have a chance to talk about it. I tried to think of something else but I have to go with the main cast of Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. All of the actors are practically invisible behind their characters. The script is great, of course, because they are all written like actual teenagers but the actors still carry it with their astounding performances. Especially Jack Black who is playing an Instagram-popular teenage girl. He never stops sounding and acting like he is that Instagram-popular teenage girl and his mannerisms are flawless! Every time he's on screen my brain goes "Oh, hi, Bethany! Hey, guys, it's Bethany!". Like someone said in a post here on tumblr, "If he doesn't get an Oscar for his role, we'll know the Academy is discriminating against action movies" (which, of course, they are because no Oscar for him!).

22. What do you think is the funniest movie ever made?

I don't watch comedy a lot but a movie that maybe isn't "the funniest" but makes me smile and laugh a lot if Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. They've done so well with the chemistry between the cast, the video game angle, the actors going against their usual strengths and on top of that the movie has so much heart! The flow is very good and while there are serious moments, there is also a lot of fun to be had with the movie.

23. What do you think is the saddest movie ever made?

I don't know but it is a Bulgarian one, that's for damn sure! There's practically always an air of tragedy in Bulgarian movies, even when everything is more or less fine by the end.

There's a Bulgarian movie called Yesterday. I think that one would be my pick. I don't remember a lot from it because I haven't watched it in a long time but it's set in a school during the communist regime in Bulgaria and it follows a group of students but then one of them dies in an accident in the nearby river, I think. There's a lot of emotional nuance that I am thoroughly failing to convey here but I remember this haunting feeling of grief but also nostalgia to how things were yesterday (hence the title), before the boy's death.

In truth, though, there isn't a Bulgarian movie that isn't sad in some way (at least from the ones I've watched) and there also isn't a Bulgarian movie that isn't good.

27. What do you think is the best adaptation of a book? (film or TV)

By best I understand "one that I like the most", not "one that is the most faithful to the book".

I'm going to go with The Devil Wears Prada because the movie is actually a lot better than the book. It adds a lot of nuance not just to Miranda Priestly, but also to Andy. In the book Miranda is just a tyrant that's completely detached from reality whereas the movie makes her extremely demanding but also more sympathetic. You can understand that a lot of her impossible standards come from perfectionism not just directed at others but at herself as well and while she's still ultimately quite awful to her employees and even friends and family, she's a much more well-rounded and relatable character. And Andy is also more interesting in the movie because we see her start to take to the world of fashion and to Miranda herself. She is even seen defending Miranda because she has developed an understanding towards her and can extend empathy whereas in the book Andy hates Miranda with every fiber of her being. The truth is that the movie approach works better for the point the story is trying to make about Andy selling her soul to the "devil" because she really starts falling into Miranda's lifestyle and attitude towards her work and other people and there really is a danger of turning into the "devil" herself for Andy.

Lemme just... yeah, here you go - proof! (it's a video essay)

Send me film/tv asks

[goldemas1244]

Heyyyy I have a question :3

Do you have any headcanon/s for these character : Scraptrap, Scrap Baby, Lady Dimistrecu, the three daughter of Lady D, Heisenberg and/or Molten Freddy ? :3

You don't have to do all the proposition, you can choose what character you want to do :3

Have a good day/evening and stay safe ! :3

*Cracks knuckles* \(^v^)/

You already know I'm doing all of them! Thank you for the ask! Headcanons under the cut!

FNaF6

Scraptrap

He loves rice and would do anything to get his paws on it. Fortunately, the pizzeria is quite close to a Chinese restaurant so rice is easy to get.

He orders a rice-based menu at least three times a week, so the owners aren't at all that surprised to see a tuxedo-clad zombie-rabbit come in and ask for their signature fried rice with buttered lobster on the side.

Since he like to dine-in there, he usually asks Michael to give him a bath in exchange for pizzeria improvements. Michael usually shrugs and gives him a well-deserved bubble bath and his tuxedo.

He likes it when Michael gives him head pats and rubs. It makes him feel loved and appreciated.

He has a pet pigeon named Fernando Buschmann. It's German and likes to listen to the violin.

He likes ASMR and memes. ASMR makes him go feral with murderous intent while memes make him question the modern generation.

He has social media accounts, all named "Willton-Moldover". He usually posts cosplays and furry art on them and has 93 followers on his Reddit profile, 1.5 million followers on his Instagram, 550 followers on his Tumblr, 35 on his Snapchat, and 3.95 million on his TikTok.

He also has a YouTube channel with 10.784 million subscribers called "Willton-Gameover". He plays videogames one-handed and roasts popular YouTubers and famous people. He would never roast Keanu Reeves though, because Keanu Reeves is precious bean.

Due to his popularity he gets a lot of hate mail and private pics. He doesn't like them at all so he blackmails the people who post them. And if the media and police are involved? Well, he has a strong fanbase that's not going down as well as a good alibi so that works out well for him.

Yes, his fanbase also knows of the Fazbear Murders, and he admits to it but frankly, he's shown them the approving ghost kids (who've bonded and gamed with him) so that's no big deal. Only Cassidy hates him, but it's usually constipated anger.

He's bisexual and has an ENORMOUS crush on one of his favourite game characters, Karl Heisenberg. Something about that man reminds him of himself and Henry, although he's not sure what. Still, don't let that distract you from the fact that he owns a nude Karl Heisenberg body pillow, CAPCOM official.

Scrap Baby

Her favourite Monster High doll is Draculaura. She doesn't understand how pink goes well with black but oh boy, pink goes so well with black.

She knows how to skateboard like a pro. Despite her weight, her trusty skateboard still stands and, if she falls, she's always got her skates to spare. She likes to impress the boys at the skatepark with her ability to perform even the most difficult of moves with ease.

She's subscribed to fifteen different tabloid subscriptions. She likes to read them and criticize the stupidity of the human race, like her father. Hey, it's hereditary.

The lights in her boobies glow in the dark. They also glow whenever she gets tired.

She likes reading furniture and gardening catalogues. She's judgy of the prices though and usually becomes a full-on critic with Lefty listening.

She owns a crab named Mr. Tootie. No I will not elaborate on the name. I'll only tell you that it's taken a liking to kazoos and party favours.

She's listed as the No. 1 Best Fan of her father's social media accounts. Michael's in nineteenth place but don't worry, he's as emotionless as a mushroom.

She likes to make origami lotuses. She's such a pro at it that she's even got a mini-stall at the pizzeria: 1 lotus for 50 cents. It's a lucrative business, and it's still growing. Oh, and she switches to other origami works of art every week such as origami guns and origami nine-tailed foxes.

She's the Restaurant Rescue manager. Usually she saves kids from trouble. For this reason, yes, she's commonly seen in the pizzeria itself. Kids love her though the claw worries the more irksome parents.

She's a professional Karen dealer. Karen comes to see the manager? She's hypnotically talented in weaving her words through the toughest of craniums so don't be surprised if a Karen walks out with a new viewpoint of life.

She performs on stage on the occasion, which usually gets her a lot of fan love. She cherishes everything good they give but ignores the problematic everythings. Problematic stuff? Oh, she's good friends with the police chief.

Molten Freddy

He loves noodles. Give him a bowl of ramen and he'll shut up for the entire night. Enter him in a noodle-eating competition and his high metabolism rate means absolutely non-stop spaghetti.

He misses Bon-Bon very much. To the point where he's even tried to make a scrap version of him. Sadly, it doesn't work. He cried that day.

He dies inside whenever he finds out there's a spaghetti shortage in Utah. Poor Molten.

He's a bit wonky, but if he tries to play with you or get into your personal space, don't get mad at him! He's just lonely and wants someone to talk to and play with.

He likes to play Exploding Kittens. It's the only card game he's good at. It's also the only card game he owns.

He sees Helpy as a little brother and boops his nose on a daily basis. He also likes to reenact The Lion King with him (It's the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife~). Hopefully Helpy doesn't mind.

He knows a lot of jokes in a lot of languages. So German-speaking Molten Freddy wouldn't be too far away from expectation. His favourite jokes are in French though; the wordplay is just immaculate.

He's good in French, English, German, Russian, and Malay. He's currently learning Japanese because he's a mega weeb.

His favourite cartoon is Charlie and Lola. He just likes to see the sibling shenanigans as it somehow reminds him of the good old days.

His favourite shows would be prankster shows. He especially loves the ones that give him new and creative ideas. He doesn't like the scary ones though. They make him feel unsafe and give him anxiety.

Surprisingly, he has a distinct taste for opera. He can modulate the remnants of his voice box to perfectly sing I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General. This both pisses off and impresses Henry to an extent.

Resident Evil 8

Lady Dimitrescu

She might act like the opposite but she really loves Heisenberg as her little brother. His determination, strength, speed, dexterity, and workaholic nature impresses her, who can't even fit through a doorway. She sometimes wishes she's as short as him too.

She's an avid collector of glass, porcelain, and anything fragile. It's a good reason to always be careful where you tread in her lair. She'll make you swallow every last shard if you don't.

She's an avid romance fanatic and is very loving towards the romance novels she owns. All those books you see in the in-game library? They're her collection of lesbian romances that she's collected over the past decades.

She doesn't like hats and prefers to stick to the one she wears in-game. She DOES have a collection of hats though. Last anyone counted, there were over fifty, one or two for each decade she's lived through.

She files her nails on a constant basis and owns an ornately decorated nail-clipper. Hygeine is of the utmost importance. She doesn't want to be compared to that filthy Heisenberg.

Despite her size and carefulness she keeps losing her stuff. Over the course of a week she could misplace three wine glasses, two reading glasses, and fifteen bottles of wine.

She's an expert at dodgeball and golf and even owns a lifetime access to the most prolific Country Club in Romania. With permission from Mother Miranda she goes there every year for the yearly party. It's one of the times she gets to see modernity (and Ed Sheeran) at its finest.

She loves bands from the 1920s and 1940s. However, she gets bored of them occasionally and switches them to something more modern, like Ed Sheeran. Seriously though, what is up with mums and Ed?

She's into executions and torture methods. So it's no surprise that she's a HUGE fan of Horrible Histories; even if she can't watch the show, she'll binge-read the books over and over again. She's even had the chance to encounter (and receive an autograph from) Terry Deary. They have sworn a bond not to tell anybody about this.

She loves exotic animals like anacondas and jaguars. She may or may not have owned a 10ft long Saltwater Crocodile (which was also about 5ft wide).

She's an incredible physicist and mathematician. She's also created many original formulae but unsurprisingly, she doesn't tell anyone about them, for fear that either more people may know of her, or that she may be wrong.

Dimitrescu Babes

They can devour an entire human being in mere seconds as flies. It's sort of like the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. However, unlike the beetles, they are able to strip the bones as well. They leave nothing behind.

They all know how to play the piano with varying levels of success. Daniela can already play professionally while Bela is still stuck on Grade 5.

They love to listen to their mother when she tells them stories. Gotta hand it to 'em, when you're a fly, you know how to enjoy life in its most simple of moments.

They all love being around the hunky Soldats of Uncle Karl. Fortunately, they don't know of the rebellious plan to conquer Miranda.

Bela is bisexual, Cassandra is asexual and pansexual, and Daniela is demisexual.

It gets hard when you're a fly during the summer. If it's not the lizards, spiders, and other predators, it's the heat. Because of this, despite the material waste, they have invented the world's first blood-powered air conditioner.

The three girls have never ever ever touched a stove or oven in their life. They HAVE touched the hot end of an iron though. A good reason to not touch a bloody oven. Alcina has though, but doesn't tell them that.

They love puppies! Uncle Karl brought them a baby labrador. For the rest of the week Alcina had lost quite a bit of favour from them. Not that they minded of course. IT'S A PUPPY.

They don't like snow one bit. Not just because it's cold, but because it's too white. Too bright. Too shiny. They just can't focus on their prey!

They like to go over to Auntie Donna to play with Angie. Well, you know what they say, crazies attract the crazies, and the crazy has attracted the crazies.

They also like to go to Uncle Moreau's because he's the only one in the village with a PS4. Usually they'd spend about three-quarters of a day playing his games and eating his cheese.

Karl Heisenberg

He owns a dark blue armchair named Junkyard. Despite the name, he loves it dearly because it was a gift from Alcina for his twenty-first birthday. It became part of his final transformation too. Right under the hat.

He's a little blind in the right eye, much to his annoyance. It was a minor accident with Sturm; another reason for him to hate the uncontrollable wretch. He'll never live that day down.

Somehow, he sees better in the dark, which is why he wears such tinted glasses. He also wears them to hide his expressions, since, more often than not, he tends to end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his eyes.

He's under a lot of pressure so it's no surprise that he breaks down in his factory when he knows he's alone. And by break down I mean crumple into an exhausted heap on the floor. Not even his Soldat Jet squad can wake him up until he's had a reasonable eight hours of rest.

He bathes once a day, every evening, but only three times a week. Perfume, tobacco, and cologne keep care of the rest.

He's the only Lord with a daily contact with the outside world due to his electrical abilities. Don't tell Miranda, but he can electrically CONNECT TO GOOGLE AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET IN GENERAL. He likes to play funny YouTube cat videos in his head when Miranda's having a boring meeting. It's also how he finds out that Chris is a boulder-punching asshole.

He does stimming! He likes to tap his fingers on his desk and the metal rails in his factory. He also buys stim toys from the Duke and keeps them in a well-kept box. His favourite is a non-ripping squishable toy duck. He also sings to chill out.

He's absolutely in the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise, and may have once believed in the pizzeria's existence. Come on, he's a mutated Overlord with magical magnet powers. Children souls stuck inside animatronics isn't too far-fetched of an idea. His favourite characters are the Funtimes and the Scraps, mainly because of the blueprint complexity. He HAS tried to replicate the animatronics in his spare time, but he's usually too busy with his Soldats so the project gets scrapped. He loves The Living Tombstone's songs and remixes though.

He doesn't like William Afton at all (though he marvels at his survivability). William's nature and habits remind him of Mother Miranda. He DOES however enjoy Michael Afton and often thinks how it would be absolutely amazing to have that resilient being in his Soldat army.

He's scared of what lurks below the watery depths and fire. Ironic because his brother is a literal fish and he works in one of the most hazardous fire-conducting environments. He's also scared of heights, though he doesn't get airsick.

He once died due to a killing electric shock whilst working on Sturm. It's the only time he's felt that sort of pulsing agony and also the first time he's had the confirmation that yes, Hell is real and yes, he'll end up in quite a dark pit in it. Or it could've been an electric dream, who knows? Anyways his soul apparently ran towards the opposite direction of the flames and he woke up alive after the passing of FIVE ENTIRE WEEKS. Oh boy did Alcina get worried when she couldn't find him.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

[starbright-cobweb]

I am probably missing a ton of context, but what happened? I hope that this resolved soon! @queerdo-mcjewface

gross stuff under the cut!

my dog has Problems, he is just a year old - & he's actually had a really good couple of weeks, because he's getting out of a (normal and expected) puppy fear phase and very used to his current routine. But if he gets overstimulated, frightened, frustrated, touched, or approached, he goes on the attack - he just can't emotionally self regulate, basically.

We've sort-of managed to put things in place to make this workable? We have advantages like: no children in the house, a lot of time, a dog behaviourist, and a lot of nearby nature. I'm happy he's with us, who can give him a chance, instead of a family who wouldn't have that option. He's not allowed off the lead, and only ever gets this stressed inside the house, which minimises risk to others. Our main management strategy is being a mix of predictable and boring; when he's getting overwhelmed (or has become so) we just exit the situation and wait for him to calm down. The house is filled with child-gates, and I try and structure my day around when the dog is on his very long walks.

But sometimes, i do just get trapped upstairs for long periods of time, which sucks in all sorts of ways. It messes with executive function stuff, it's claustrophobic, it is - very literally - being trapped in my home by the people I live with (the dog needs to be ok; sometimes, I need my husband there to be dog wingman so I can move around the house or leave the house), which isn't abuse but also contains enough of the component parts. & just general grumbles like, making sacrifices to be somewhere with a huge house (which I cannot use, I'm stuck in a dark small room within it, because naturally enough the dog needs a large area within the house); or big chunks of my day vanishing around "It's 90 minutes until walkies, when i will be able to cross my living room floor and then have lunch" or just the EF stress of, you have to do this right now in this moment or you won't be able to for the rest of the day.

I've got my eye on a vintage chamberpot in a local charity store. It feels so stupid to be planning my life like this, & I truly hate it (do I like dogs? no. I have never liked dogs. I found them scary before we got one that routinely bites me). He's a sweet thing, and my husband is so much happier, so...but also, I live in a society with piss taboos and it's distressing. Lovely big simmering cup stinking up my work space because I won't be able to get it downstairs to the bathroom until tomorrow morning walk time, & the inadequacy of hand sanitiser and scattering bottled water over my hands out the window to make me feel OK.

But things are looking up, sort of. he is doing so much better now than he was in August, and that gives me hope that we're on the right track. But the setup of the house with the babygates makes me feel like I'm within a caged enclosure, rather than him; and to be frank, unlike the dog, I don't have constant self-directed access to water, food, an outdoor space to move around or a place to whizz separate from my sleeping space so...

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

Next | Masterlist

Chapter One

Hound I

"So, are we going to 79's tonight?" Hound asked. He had meant to be subtle about it, but the question burst out of him the moment his well-worn boots crossed the threshold of the small break space allotted to members of the Coruscant Guard.

As break spaces went, the one designated for the Coruscant Guard's clone troopers was an embarrassment. Some determined being had managed to cram a table and a handful of chairs inside, but it was a tight fit. If more than a few fully armored troopers went inside at the same time, none of them would get back out without removing some armor to clear the traffic jam. The lights flickered, the faucet leaked, the floor was always sticky, and the stuffy air held a hint of the chemicals that had been stored there years ago. Since then, the previous break space had been renovated into an office for one of the few nat-born commanding officers and this one had been created for the clone troopers.

Still, the smell of caf was stronger than the smell of chemicals most days and the light from a nearby advertisement screen lit the room so brightly that the flickering lights didn't give any of the troopers a migraine anymore. Hound always was a man who liked to see the glass as half-full. Maybe even a little more than half, if that glass was sitting under the dripping faucet.

Thire snorted at Hound's question, leaning back in his chair until gravity threatened to topple him. "Well, boys? Hound wants to know if we're going to 79's this lovely Friday evening. What do we think?"

Thorn glanced around the room, looking unamused by his brother's antics. "We think I'm the only other one here, di'kut."

"Exactly!" Thire said in triumph, obviously determined to ignore his fellow commander. "It's the weekend! Why wouldn't we go to 79's?"

"Because you've finally realized that it's a glorified zoo?" Thorn snapped, tone venomous. "79's is where civvies go to stare at clone troopers so they can feel like they're being daring. In reality, they're being irritating."

Having spoken his piece, Thorn tossed back the last of his cup of caf, always consumed as dark as his mood. Hound shuddered at the thought. Corrie Guard caf was brewed at the approximate concentration of speeder fuel and could eat through duracrete. Only a trooper who hated himself would drink it black.

Thorn always drank it black.

"So you don't want to go?" Hound asked again, sounding heartbroken.

"No, I'll go," Thorn told him. "Zoo or not, 79's still has the cheapest booze on Coruscant that doesn't use poison as a mixer."

"Well, that's the most excited I've heard Thorn get about anything for a week, at least," Thire smirked. "Commander Fox, you want in on this?"

The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, having just stepped into the break room to fill his mug with caf, shook his head. "No, I'm on duty tonight. The Clone Rights group has been cleared to march and the Chancellor wants an extra Guard presence. Stone will be stuck here as well, monitoring any new arrivals."

"Ugh," Hound said, summarizing everyone else's point of view. "Well, we'll be thinking of you both, Commander."

Fox lowered the datapad in his hand to shoot a look in Hound's direction. "Sergeant, don't you have that ARF PR stunt tomorrow at 0800?"

Hound shrugged. "Yeah, but I can do both."

"Make sure you don't miss it," Fox ordered sternly. "The last thing I need is to have to report to the Chancellor that you missed a chance to give the GAR a boost in civil opinion."

Hound saluted and Fox turned his attention to the other break room occupants. "Thorn, if you let your stubble get any longer, it'll be considered a beard and subject to facial hair regulations. Thire, sit on the chair like a normal being, would you?"

Thorn nodded and Thire grinned as he let the chair's legs slam onto the floor. Fox rolled his eyes at their antics, refilled his cup of caf, and left the break area. Hound idly wondered how many of the gray hairs appearing at the Head Commander's temples were due to the commanding officer team. Still, the Chancellor had let Fox choose his own team of COs, so there was no one to blame but himself.

"Meet at 2100?" Thire asked. "That's prime time for 79's and there'll be plenty of talent. I'll go ahead and apologize, vode. When you look this good, you automatically get your pick of the females."

Thire brushed a hand back across his hair - meticulously trimmed to maintain the subtle horizontal lines shaved into the otherwise regulation cut - and grinned at the other two. Hound and Thire rolled their eyes, but agreed anyway.

---

Kai I

"Hey, do you guys want to go to 79's tonight?" Kai asked, perched on the desk she was supposed to be sitting behind. She was always restless and neither of the other women blamed her for the odd choice of seat - even though it made inter-desk communication a bit of a pain.

Arkularia - who, for the sake of Kai's sanity, allowed the others to call her 'Ark' - was the first to respond. "79's? The clone bar?"

"Do you want to drink, dance, or find a one-night stand?" Ransom asked from behind her expansive tech setup. "Because there are better places for any of those. Closer, too."

"No, I want to go to 79's," Kai said, kicking up her chin. "And as for what I want… I want all of them. All three options, please and thank you."

"Did you just try to order a night out? Like from a menu?" Ransom asked. From the tone of her voice, Kai had managed to earn a rare smile from her boss. Of course, that was only a guess since Ransom didn't emerge from her den so Kai could verify the expression.

"No… but can you imagine how much easier that would be?" Kai asked in her own defense.

"It would take some of the fun out of it, I think," Ark said slowly.

Kai chucked a wad of flimsi at her friend and co-worker's head, cheering to herself as it connected and bounced off of Ark's white-blonde hair. "I know that, Ark! C'mon guys, do you want to come to 79's with me or not?"

"I'm out," Ransom said immediately, shutting down the projector option on her desk. She was still illuminated by the ambient light from the schematics on her datapad. The cybernetic implants in Ransom's arm gleamed in the blue glow as she dragged a hand over her shaved head. "I have to work late if we have any hope of finishing our next job on time."

"Ark?" Kai asked, not too proud to sound like she was begging.

Ark sighed, pale eyes hopeless in the face of Kai's wheedling. "Fine, I'll go along."

"Yes!"

"Ransom, are you sure you can't come, too?" Ark asked, her voice a bit desperate.

"I really do have to stay and work on this," Ransom apologized, gesturing at her assortment of datapads. "My condolences."

"We're going to a club, not facing a firing squad!" Kai admonished. "Besides, I just want to find someone fun."

"Like that last guy?" Ark asked, squinting a bit as she applied her prodigious memory to her own question. "What was his name?"

"Not sure," Kai admitted. "But he was so much fun! Great tattoos."

"So you are looking for a hookup! I knew it," Ransom crowed.

Ark frowned. "Why a clone trooper? They're never on-planet for long before they have to leave."

"Exactly," Kai said with a wink. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Didn't the last one stick around for a while? I thought I remembered seeing him more than a few times…" Ark pondered.

"Hardcase! His name was Hardcase," Ransom remembered. "He came by every day of his leave."

"Strange name," Ark commented.

"Strange guy," Ransom said with a shrug.

"But he was hot," Kai countered, folding a piece of flimsi to look like a tooka. At least it did in her imagination. "And so much fun. I need another someone like him."

"What happened to him?" Ark asked curiously.

Kai would have blushed if she had any shame - too bad for Coruscant that she didn't. Instead, she pouted. "He moved on with a Zeltron who works at GAR headquarters. That's the best place to meet troopers, but they don't give access to civilians unless they have official business."

"Hardcase didn't seem like the type to ghost you out of nowhere," Ransom mused.

"I… may have freaked out about him asking me to be his girlfriend," Kai admitted. "I don't want anything serious, you know? Besides, I'm the one who introduced him to the new girl. She's a sweetheart. He adores her and she's the same about him. Can't be too upset with that."

Ark and Ransom exchanged loaded glances, but Kai had no interest in a therapy session. "Right! So, Ransom, you're still out?"

"I have no interest in coming along and I have work to do here."

"Well, that was almost nice," Kai congratulated. "Ark, it's you and me. When should we go?"

Ark shrugged. "Why don't we just stop there on the way home from work?"

"Are you kidding?" Kai asked, aghast at the idea. "We aren't exactly wearing Senatorial dress, but we're still too professional for a club! No, we need to go home, change, and meet there. How long do you need?"

"I don't know… half an hour?"

"How long do you need to find an outfit that makes sense in a club setting?" Kai rephrased her question.

"Two hours," Ark corrected herself, sounding sheepish.

"That's more like it," Kai said, satisfied. Her look turned wicked as she said, "Now, let's talk about makeup…"

"Are you sure you don't need any help here, Ransom?" Ark asked their boss, her eyes widening with hidden significance.

"No, it's too late!" Kai denied. "Meet me at my apartment and I'll help you. Let's say eight."

Ark glanced back at Ransom, who gave a sympathetic shrug. Ark sighed. "Fine, eight."

---

A/N - Hello, and welcome to yet another Clone Wars-based story! I can't leave these poor guys alone. They deserve so much more than they got! So, you may have noticed that some of the characters are a bit different from the way they are normally portrayed in fan fiction. The first fic I read with the Coruscant Guard had Thire as a happy joking guy and Thorn as a serious doom-and-gloom trooper. I'm coming to realize that is not typical for fanon interpretations, but those characterizations are embedded in my mind. I hope you didn't find this too jarring!

I'm experimenting with a new Game of Thrones-style POV tracking format. Hopefully that will keep things from getting too confusing as we bounce back and forth across eight different POVs! I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but it's just a simple introduction of (most of) the characters.

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part 13)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: injury, blood

Context: The boys, (Y/n) and Nico formulate a plan to get out of the cave safely.

A/N: I have a new editor! It is my good friend @jawline-of-steel and she will hopefully be helping me with editing on all of my work!😊💛💛💛

Edited By: @jawline-of-steel

Masterlist

“What do we do? There’s no way out of here except through there! We’re trapped!” I say quickly, keeping my voice down as much as i can so as not to alert anyone outside of the fact that we are very close by, “Is there anywhere we can hide?”

“In here? Yeah, there is, but I’m not sure how good the hiding places are, especially not for someone as big as him.” Dwayne muses, gesturing to Nico as he turns to David with a questioning look on his face.

“All of the hallways are blocked off by debris, and any of the crawlspaces barely fit us, so it’s doubtful that he will be able to get through.” The platinum blonde responds dismissively, though his tone betrays his nerves, the idea of a team of highly trained Hunters waiting just outside the cave worrying and unnerving to him.

“How is she supposed to walk anywhere? She’s got a busted leg, remember?” Paul interjects, pointing at me.

“One of us could carry her?” Marko suggests, which draws a low growl from Nico, his protective side showing through as he tightens his grip around me, holding me tighter to his chest.

I think for a minute, during which time the other five tense up, clearly having heard something I can't, Marko and Paul starting to look even more worried. Frowning, i look around at them all, as if asking them to clarify, though none of them care to explain; instead, David jerks his head to the side, signalling for the rest of us to follow him as he leads us through a nearby tunnel, which takes us to what i assume is their sleeping quarters, Nico having to duck down the entire time as he struggles to fit his bulk in the space. As we emerge into the area, David quickly starts talking.

“The sun is gonna come up soon, so we don’t really have too much time, but I think we can help you. If one of us carries (Y/n), then she can leave through the way we get in and out of here, which isn’t accessible by foot, so it's the safest way out. As for Nico, there’s a chance we can lure the Hunters around the caves enough for him to have a clear chance at getting out of here, but it will only work if you're fast, because they'll most likely be expecting something like this to happen. There’s a safehouse a little way away, where you can stay until you can find transport, and where one of us can stay whilst the sun is out.” The vampire swiftly explains, the rest of us nodding as we take in the plan, glad that one of us is thinking rationally. 

“Hold on, why do you have a safehouse?” Nico asks, frowning in the dim light.

“Our sire made it in case anyone ever came after us.” Dwayne fills him in, before moving on again just as quickly, “Which one of us is going to carry her?”

“Paul will, he's the fastest out of the four of us, which will mean he can get to the safehouse much quicker.” David says decisively, looking to his friend for confirmation.

“I’ll do it.” The tall vampire nods, reaching out to take me from Nico, who reluctantly hands me over, giving me one last squeeze for reassurance as he passes me to the blonde.

“Hang on a sec, what about Nico? How is he supposed to know where the safehouse is?” I chip in, looking at the towering werewolf as he straightens again.

The vampires are silent for a moment, thinking the question through, clearly as stuck as I am. Eventually, Dwayne pipes up again, having thought of something.

“I guess one of us will have to go with him.” The brunette says, looking around at the others.

“Yeah, I guess that would help.” I agree, adjusting myself in Paul’s arms.

“I can do it, I'm fast enough to get out of here and into cover before the sun comes up.” Dwayne offers, looking over at Nico as the werewolf, nods appreciatively, still uneasy around the vampires, but not as much as before. 

“Ok, Dwayne will go with the werewolf. We’ll stay here and out of sight as much as we can.” David says with finality, watching us all agree before speaking again, “Alright then, let's get going, I can already hear them on the steps.”

“Alright. Thank you for doing this, you really didn't have to.” I say to them all, smiling thankfully.

“No problem, Dwayne is right. We owe you this, you’ve saved our lives too many times to count.” The platinum blonde waves me off, moving to start off into a nearby hallway. 

I go to say something, only for Nico to cut me off, gesturing for Paul and Dwayne to move off immediately, not allowing me to argue with him, as is often the case. Paul starts moving off, carrying me as he turns down a different way to the others, where there is already a cooler breeze blowing in from the sea just outside. I lean back against the vampire’s chest, tensing in his arms in trepidation as i think through the plan in my head, still nervous about what will happen to my friends whilst im gone, particularly David and Marko, who will be stuck in the cave with a bunch of Hunters ready to kill them at a moment’s notice, should they get themselves caught. Part of me is confident that they won’t, but the more rational part of my mind knows that there is a very high probability of things going badly, which will end even worse for the rest of us. 

I am snapped from my thoughts by the sound of the roaring ocean, the cave now widening out into a cavern that is filled with crashing waves, the far end ïleading to the sea itself, the horizon still cloaked in darkness despite the proximity of dawn that is fast approaching.

“You're gonna want to hold on tight.” Paul warns me, waiting for me to grip him with more force before he kicks off the ground, the disorientation that comes with his floating slightly off-putting as I become stiff in his arms.

“Hey, relax. I'm not going to drop you.” The vampire promises, before he starts to move off towards the front of the cave and out into the open. 

*

My back aches as I slouch in the chair I'm sat in, my fingers knotted together as I watch the doorway, my lip already in shreds from how much I've been biting it, every muscle in my body tense with nerves. Across from me, Paul eyes me in concern, knowing that every movement I'm making is upsetting the injury on my knee, which is throbbing painfully now, though I am ignoring it in favour of staring at the space where Nico and Dwayne should appear. 

"They'll make it, (Y/n), don't worry." The vampire tries to reassure me, though he isn't too convinced, looking just as worried and uneasy as i feel.

"I hope so." I manage back, my jaw clenched and tight, though I am doing my best to relax it.

We wait in silence again for a few moments, neither of us daring to say a word in case we miss the tell tale sounds of someone entering the safe house through the hatch in the abandoned gas station above, the actual door itself squeaky and stiff from disuse. It takes a little while, but eventually we hear it, at which point Paul moves to stand by the doorway, ready to intercept if it should be someone unsavoury, rather than the supernatural beings we are expecting. I sit up straighter, my eyes trained on the doorway, anxiously awaiting whoever it is, the heavy footsteps becoming more and more audible as they approach.

Suddenly, the familiar, lithe silhouette of Dwayne enters the candlelight, the brunette limping a little, his bare chest stained red with blood, Nico just behind him, the werewolf completely bare, his skin covered in sweat, blood and dirt. A few cuts litter his chest, though there is a wound on his shoulder where the shaft of a crossbow bolt is just visible. The German instantly comes over to me as he sees me, ignoring any pain as he chooses instead to pull me into an awkward embrace, glad to see I'm alright.

"Thank God you're ok!" He hums into my hair, pulling back to look me in the eye.

"I'm fine, Nico, though I can't say the same about you. What happened?" I respond, looking between him and Dwayne, who has sat down beside me on a different chair. 

"There were some waiting for us outside the cave. We fought them off, but we both got hurt in the process. Nico took a crossbow bolt for me." The vampire informs me, nodding thankfully at the werewolf.

"And you took a bullet for me. We are even." He responds, smiling at the vampire in his usual crooked way, moving away from me when he finally notices that he is still naked, "Are there any clothes in here that I could wear?"

"Err, yeah man, they're over there. What happened to your first ones?" Paul asks, looking a little confused.

Nico sends him an odd look, obviously wondering if the vampire is joking.

"My clothes were destroyed when I transformed."

"You transformed?!" Paul exclaims, going wide-eyed as he looks over the huge werewolf.

"It was the only way either of us would be fast enough." Dwayne cuts in, groaning as he pulls a bullet out of his shoulder with his fingers.

"Oh, right." His friend nods, going to the brunette's side to offer his aid.

Across from us, Nico roughly yanks out the crossbow bolt, growling as he does so, pulling on a shirt that is much too small for him after, knowing that the wounds will heal themselves in a little while. Once done, he moves to sit on a sofa nearby, only to come and help me up when I gesture to him that I'd like to join him. Carrying me over to the sofa, the werewolf sits down with me, placing me beside him as he leans back, clearly tired.

Tired now, I watch as Paul helps Dwayne with his injuries, the two vampires talking quietly amongst each other, clearly worried about David and Marko, who are most likely still running from the Hunters back at the cave, the two of them in great danger. Unconsciously, I let my head drop onto Nico's shoulder, my eyelids starting to droop as I start to give in to the sleep I've been fighting off all night, the perpetual warmth from his body soothing and calming to me, his arm coming up to support me as he carefully manoeuvres us so that he's lying back against the arm of the sofa, my body resting on his. In this new position I quickly feel myself start to lose consciousness, my muscles finally relaxing as I let myself fall asleep.

Part Fourteen

[disasterjones]

Jarrett. Give us the tea my dude

Jarett: Describe your worst boss or teacher you've ever had.

my time has come,, 

this is obscenely long, apologies

okay so I used to work at a credit union (it’s basically a bank but they push this concept of “community” and “we’re not like the banks” except that they are, do not be tempted by their honeycomb claims, they’re as fragile as they are sweet) and I worked in the quality assurance department

we were tasked with everything from balance inquiries to opening accounts to being the equivalent of loan servicers (without the capacity to actually craft the loan agreement for underwriting, because then what would the loan officers do)

my boss, we’ll call him Bob, had two assistant managers, we’ll call them Jenny and August, who were probably the pacific northwest equivalent of Stepford Wives, with Bob being the superficially-agreeable gentleman that welcomes the unaware into the compound for assimilation

so anyway I joined this job through a temp-to-hire position and it was great for the first six months or so (as it turns out, even jobs have honeymoon periods), I made friends with coworkers, I established a presence and something of a reputation for being the friendly-and-decently-quick-learner, which I would later find out was to my detriment, because they took the “quick learner” concept and thought that translated perfectly to “teacher,” and about a year in they gave me a temp to train

the temp was never a problem, although she did sometimes like to be on her phone when we were in the middle of a call, but I’m just an employee that’s giving pointers, I’m not a boss nor am I her mother, so I don’t bother to give her too much hassle about it. she still manages to keep decent call times for a newbie and is able to navigate our systems after a little bit of repetition

this was the beginning of my issues with Bob, as he wanted me to be more strict and adhere as closely his own inflexible schedule as possible. problem is I can’t force a person to learn faster, nor had I asked for the responsibility of training someone in the first place. why hadn’t they asked someone with more experience? sure I’d learned the ins and outs of the programs okay, but i hadn’t developed the tools to quickly de-escalate angry callers yet, hadn’t even been given access to several systems I was expected to use to train this temp, but being behind was my fault no matter what I said

I’d already been dealing with some subtle snideness and condescension from Jenny and August on top of that, and it took me ages to realize it’s because I was the only person that didn’t engage in makeup culture (partially bc I can’t afford that shit lol) and that was literally the reason why: I wasn’t “put together” or “company ready,” even though I never personally interacted with members or anyone on site beyond people in my immediate department

so a year and a half of this, of subtle underhanded remarks and difficult demands, of having constant rising expectations and quotas, told at every turn that our goal is to have as many new members as possible, all the while a broken record of lie, just repeating constantly that “sales don’t matter, it’s about the community” 

(EXCEPT GET ALL THE ACCOUNTS DON'T LET THEM SLIP THROUGH YOUR FINGERS YOU FUCKING FAILURE YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM 3 ACCOUNTS YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM A GOOD RATE ON THE NEW CREDIT CARD IF THEY JUST SIGNED UP BUT REMEMBER WE DON’T WANT TO SELL THEM ANYTHING)

finally it’s Christmas time and I’ve been busting my hump for the whole year and it’s my second year so I’m eligible for a bonus and I’m literally gonna burst I’m so happy... until Bob and Co. announce that, despite all our stellar efforts this year, despite that we are ahead of company projections by a 15% margin across all departments, despite that I personally (and by proxy our department) was responsible for the acquisition of an account worth over 1.3 million, we were told our Christmas bonuses were actually going to be a bit sparser than they were the year prior, my first year, the year I got a $75 Fred Meyer gift card in

I had been looking forward to a cash bonus and had worked my ass off for it, had been damn near guaranteed it during a number of team/personal reviews with the managers, but surprise! three days before christmas, all I have to look forward to is $50 to a place that I can reasonably get a single pair of shoes from (and maybe some socks)

it’s a month or so later that the Big Change happens, and the entire building of employees moves across town to a new location. some people get let go in the shuffle, including one of my close friends I’d met there. financially stressed though she was, I could see how much happier she was to be out of that place, and I started to get inklings of leaving as my mental health began to deteriorate. another result of this change is that the parking availability for employees is cut down to a third of what we used to have, except it’s even less because most of the spots at the new building are intended for members, so everybody’s carpooling or riding bikes or bussing

side note: carpooling is all well and good in a green initiative, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to coordinate more than two people for a carpool? either you can make us carpool or you can have us in on time, you can’t have both

a bit of advice for anybody new to the job circuit or who might have trouble deciphering “appropriate” social gestures: no matter how open they say you can be, no matter how friendly or amenable they appear to be to mental health struggles, don’t fall for that trap and think you can show any moment of weakness. it’s true that not everyone will react the way my managers did, but don’t take the chance if you can help it. on the surface, they understood. on the surface they said they were with me.

i would go on to walk in on those same people mocking my symptoms and talking about how it can’t be that bad, that I must be trying to get attention.I was labeled unprofessional, and no matter how much they encouraged open communication and preached how “life happens and things get rough for people,” I was still an acceptable target. 

so I took my complaint to HR, who at first seemed taken aback at the notion that, of anybody, BOB could be engaging in such careless and callous behavior. “Oh, he’s such a nice man! I’m sure he didn’t mean those things.” and because he wasn’t the one saying them, but rather laughing along with them, and because it was my word against theirs, it was unlikely to go anywhere

time crawls on and it’s about march or so when everything finally snaps in my brain. getting out of bed feels like selling my soul and going to work feels more like torture than a paycheck. on The Dawn Of The Day That Broke My Back, I was up and ready, out in front of my apartment and chain smoking to keep myself awake, when I realized that no matter when my carpool shows up now, we’re going to be late

I try to keep myself in decent spirits, not be a grumposaurus on the way in. I feel prepared for the day, got my coffee and my lunch in a bag and a nice outfit and I feel like maybe today won’t be as bad as the rest of the month has been, even though we’ll be late

we arrive about 10 after, but I’ve got Jenny and August’s numbers in my phone, so I’ve sent them messages ahead of time to let them know that the carpool was a bit late because traffic has been troublesome. I don’t remember how true it was, but the point is I did my part to let them know ahead of time that we weren’t no-shows, just a bit delayed. as I’m walking in (mind you, following and followed by a number of other individuals just as late as me), Bob singles me out, pointing first at me and then another aggressive point in the direction of a closed office space 

fun fact: with the new change in locations, he no longer has his own office, in fact he now sits directly adjacent to me and close enough to hear me speak under my breath, something I had to be constantly aware of

he ignores the confusion on my face as soon as we’re inside and immediately begins to accuse me of slacking off, saying I’ve been skipping out on and coming late into work constantly, and I need to “get it together” or I’ll be out of a job. I try to express that I’m not trying to shirk my responsibilities, just that I’ve been dealing with a lot of personal stuff and it’s affecting my focus. He doesn’t care, his frustration continuing to escalate, and every time I offer a response or rebuttal to an unfair statement, he gets angrier and changes what he’s upset about.

Finally it happens. 

“You were late! 10 minutes late! You need to be in your chair at your desk and ready to sign in and be ready to take calls BY 8:00!!” 

I have grown tired of him yelling for no reason, and the backbone that had crumbled away over the last two and a half years suddenly snaps back into place hard as steel. 

“I would like to know why this is all aimed at me specifically, when you saw me enter with the remainder of my carpool, the carpool that you all made us set up in the middle of construction season, which of course is happening on the only road that leads here. 

“I would like to know how I’m supposed to control the environment or lives of the other people I am stuck riding with every day for this job that supposedly cares about us, even though it doesn’t seem to care about the extra expenses or time  crunch we now have to endure as a result of this change that miraculously doesn’t affect you. 

“I would like to know who put that stick so far up your ass that you thought it was necessary to yell at your employee about 10 damn minutes. If you don’t mind, I have a job to get to.”

And I go and sit at my desk. He fumes quietly in the office for a while before coming out to his desk, returning to whatever he was doing before he pulled me aside to treat me like a child.

Not a few hours later, I get a call from a member that had been working directly with Bob (big ordeal that needed a manager a few days prior, so he was the go-to for this particular account), and they wanted to speak with him, claiming it was urgent. I hold the call and stand up, trying to get Bob’s attention quietly since there’s other calls happening around me. I call his name quietly, saying “phone for you, it’s [member’s name]” but he doesn’t seem to hear me because he doesn’t respond. So again, I whisper his name, this time leaning more towards him to hopefully catch his eye with the movement, but he cuts me off before I can get the member’s name out

He starts yelling. Like, at the top of his voice, yelling. In a small room, to a person less than 5 feet away, audible to everyone both on a call and not (I would later find out it was also audible over the phone! a member asked what the yelling was about. but I’m the unprofessional one)

“CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY? WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO BOTHER ME WITH CAN WAIT. GET BACK TO WORK.”

The resolve I’d summoned earlier didn’t stay with me, and this was the final straw. It’s one thing to be berated to and humiliated one on one, it’s another to be on the receiving end of it in the presence of 20 other people. I get back on the phone and tell the member, “I’m very sorry, he’ll have to return your call. He’s unavailable at the present.” and hung up, because I was about to cry and I needed to get out. I log out of everything, lock my computer, pick up my belongings and wave to one of my carpoolmates as I walk out and down to HR

they wound up convincing me to stay for a few more weeks, especially after they fired Bob (who it would turn out was going through a divorce, his second in four years, and I just happened to be the punching bag he needed that day), but eventually I left and never went back

[ Critical Role Ask Meme ]