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guzsdaily · 1 year ago

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Anxiety: Over planning, over detailing, and over perfecting

Day 13 - Nov 18, 12.023

Well, I'm still unsure if I will reset the counter, seeing how it was yesterday. But whatever, today's is Day 13! And because my, luck number? brand number? Is 013, why not a post that I kinda promised in my intro post in @guz013 when I entered on Tumblr?

This is a problem that probably everyone also has, even more when you work in creative fields and/or have some sort of anxiety. And I would say that is a two-sided knife, because planning is something which you should learn, but it can get out of hand easily. Which is exactly what always happens when I try creating something new.

The introduction post

Click here if you want to know what post I'm talking about.

When I wrote that post, I was in somewhat of a burst of inspiration/motivation, in the past days I was doing nothing, and needed to do something and start to be productive again. My mind can't really remember why I had that motivation burst, I unfortunately didn't note it somewhere, but sometimes you kinda just wake up with an idea and start doing it out of nowhere. So I remembered about Tumblr, how I wasn't really liking other social medias, and that I needed to create a blog at some point, so I did it.

But then anxiety and the need to plan something started. So I started to question myself if I should separate the blogs in topics, because coding and art in just one blog would feel weird somewhat, and because Tumblr had the option of side-blogs, I created one for each topic with this idea of each one being of one topic that I like and maybe one more personal to post more randomly and just post things such gaming or whatever that is more hobby-ish than work-ish - and as you can see now, the personal one now is where I talk about everything pretty most. - Before starting to post on Tumblr, I just explored it a little, and saw that people made intro post or pinned post to give basic info about them and their blogs, so again, I planned/thought on how I should make one.

I never made an actual intro post in any social media, and something that worried me is that I was "uninvited" to be here in someway, every social media has its own culture and community in some shape or another, and the only thing I knew really was from videos of r/tumblr pretty most. So, to me, I needed to explain everything and even say why I was here in the first place, which kinda difficult writing in a more natural and relaxed way. I checked a lot more to see if my English was correct and if somehow it could pass the tone that I didn't want, if I said everything, how could I place the tags in a way that didn't feel too unnecessary or just "hey, give me attention/retention!". Just the idea of placing another social media listed there was wrong for some reason, I didn't want to it to feel like a brand or advertising in someway.

The same process repeat to the pinned posts and other intro posts for the other blogs. In the art blog, things such as "should I talk as it was myself or my fursona/persona?", "is this "Hewo!" on the pinned post too cringe?" and "should I draw something new just to the pinned and intro posts?", which made me postpone the writing of them even more, and now you can also see why my code and this blog haven't an intro and pinned posts to this day.

A recurring problem

The process that said posts had, is something which happens also in my projects/brands a lot, but with different worries. My entire dream of creating the A Capital brand was abandoned for years because I tried to always see how I could plan and protect things such as copyright and trademark usage of it, which is pretty much impossible to do at this stage. The Lored brand had the same things, and no just that, but also the identity of it changed over time because I never felt satisfied with it, and something such as creating the README.md of the organization on GitHub, and pretty much for every single project, had the same worries as the introduction posts here.

Something which is happening now, is that I'm trying to reorganize my organizations on GitHub again, because I didn't want to mix personal projects, for-developers projects, and end-user projects - why? "Because someone that want to contribute can feel lost, or I can have problems managing permissions for each repository, etc." - and now my paradigm is: My user profile: learning projects, dotfiles, etc.; Lored: developer focused projects, libraries, tools; Guz's Projects (now to be Capytal Code): End user, commercial projects, applications.

And I don't need to say why and even how much of a nightmare is managing my other social media accounts and trying to have things such as the same profile picture for each one.

No one cares

This is something which I always try to say to myself: stop it, no one cares enough or will notice the imperfections, and you can plan and do the rest after. And it is true, no one cared about my introduction post, and even if in the future any of these profiles ends up having some sort of attention, no one will really see them or care enough to see the errors or appreciate the details really. And that fucking ok, I'm not the protagonist of the world, just of my own life, but that also the problem, I'm the one who will actually care and notice, I'm my worst critic.

And in the end, I will want to make something perfect to be proud of. But most of the time, actually, all of them, I will need to compromise and understand that good enough is not a problem, and maybe I can improve it in the future.

You can't predict the future

Something which I need to improve daily and is one of the main things which I talk with my therapist about, and independent of the level of anxiety you have, and even if you don't have any, it's still hard to overcome. I always try to plan things in advance, in a way very often I won't do anything if I didn't expect to be doing it some time before, I want to be organized and decrease the amount of unpredictable things that happens, primarily the bad ones, from my life. But I can't predict the future, and I end up more living in the future instead of planning it.

This type of feeling and anxiety really increased when I started dating my girlfriend, because we are in a long distance relationship, and you need to have some sort of plan of when and/or how you will visit each other, and even more, how you will live with each other in the future. For this reason now I'm hoping to get a job within the next year, because I need to stabilize myself until this possible future come. But let's just say that trying to plan when you are anxious and insecure is not the best things, and I have to admit that a lot of times we discuss because I want to know how we will do something which we simply cannot know how it will be in this stage, we have at least two years until that future, and a lot of things can happen in this time period. Thankfully since the start of the relationship, my anxiety and insecurity improved a lot, but there are still some day which I end up vulnerable to some thoughts, unfortunately.

Writing this blog

Creating this blog, I would say that somehow helped me a lot on improving this problem of trying to perfect or plan everything. These daily journals, normally I try to write right when I'm preparing my morning coffee, and very often I don't have a theme or actual subject to talk when I sit down with my laptop. When I open my note-taking app and create a new note to write on, I try to just create a good title, and then I start writing based on that title's subject. That's it, never go back a paragraph or another to correct something (except for wrong grammar/spelling), I write a sentence after the other and that's it, without worrying if it has the best structure, storytelling, or even if it is totally within in theme of the title after some paragraphs. Each post, most of the days take around two hours to make, even more the ones with this size-length, and I don't want to spend more than it on each one, it would take a lot more hours if I was reworking entire paragraphs and trying to perfect everything.

And I really don't know why this happens just for this journal, maybe the time constraint in general, but knowing that I don't need to perfect everything, plan what topic to write each day, or delete entire paragraphs to make something good enough, really helps prove to myself that not everything needs to be so rigid and planned before. Being honest, I love how even knowing that these posts have a some sort of structure, it is simply just me writing word after word like I would say out loud to someone, it is just more natural and makes these post be actually a thing that can be pinpointed to me because of it. I still try to give attention, try to prevent from saying too much of my personal life and I worry about things like tone or if I can offend or generalize wrongly something, but I can apologize and edit after if I need to. Everyone makes mistakes and tells something not so good in a conversation sometimes, and that's ok if you recognize it.

The other side of the knife

To finish it off, I also want to remind myself that this problem is also something which can help sometimes. Planning is a good skill to have, and when your mental health kinda forces it to do so, you can at least learn something about this skill. Perfectionism can be something good, and it is natural when you love what you create, you will want to make it perfect and something to be proud of, and in can make you want to learn more and more to improve yourself and your skills.

But like everything in life, and like everyone else already knows to say but not to actually do, balance is everything.

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Today's artists & creative things

Album: Adeus, Aurora - by Supercombo - I already recommended a song of this band, but now I actually want to give a spot just for them and one of their albums. Every time I start listening to them, the songs of this album pops up, and I can recognize from where they are. This album has a beat that I would just call balanced, it has enough hard guitar, drums, beats that I like, but also big stops and buildups to not be overwhelming or "hard".

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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-SA 4.0) License

#daily journal #overthinking

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grokebaby · 3 years ago

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OC ASKS ATTACK!!

1.- Imagine all of our ocs had to fight eachother. Who'd win and why?

2.- Favourite and least-favourite oc? Why?

3.- Oldest oc? Newest oc? Could you explain a bit of their story?

Yo nice attack bro

1. (I assume you meant to type "Your" and not "our" bc unfortunately I don't know your ocs sorrey) Ooojjj my god. Disastrous multiverse crossover. Even imagining all the characters of one story in a big tournament would be.. Well badass tbh but messy lol. For me personally it'd be a whole entire discussion in itself to just list who would win in a fight against who (new ask game anyone?)

If I had to list like the one character I know would survive everything, regardless of if they technically "lose" or "win" any battle, I'd probably say that's Della/Dave the Illusionist. Bc she's a resilient little fuck who won't die despite everything (being a paradox does that to you)

2. GOSH I'm bad at picking just one of anything but that's a juicy question. I do have some favorites I'd say but who I'm most interested in at any time fluctuates. I like to keep it fresh. I'd call my least favorites those who I have very little interest in 😅 but it's not always even that personal. I think I automatically have some fondness for older characters who've stuck around through the years. Will expand on this under a read more bc it'll be rambly

3. I've answered this oldest question before a few ways. Newest tho? Uhhhhh. Torpor? I whipped her up on a whim some few nights ago. Concept and design at once, although the design is still pretty wip. I do also have the case of having 'new' ocs but they've been in progress (like having a design but lacking everything else or stuff like that) for some time, so I have yet to really introduce them

Here's a peek of Torpor for you btw. She's one of Unjust's family along with Hysteria. I'm working on an introductory post for her so I won't get into it in detail rn, but basically big living meat cocoon and embodiment of how executive dysfunction feels

Expansion on Q#2 below

Out of all my antagonists so far Ngah has to be among my favorites tbh. She stems from my own experiences and getting to grapple with her kinda helps formulate some things. Also I'm just glad to have a lady villain who isn't motivated by love or romance. Familial love maybe, but you get my point. She isn't oppressive and small-minded bc of her love for her children (although that affects her motivations), but bc she has oppressive and small-minded views on the world. Also, I like that she's arrogant and a fucking powerhouse. She deserves to get nerfed though lol. I'm also fond of Lamera and the relationship between him and his mother.

Grandefel has always been a fave. I haven't given her enough spotlight admittedly but I just like her alot regardless.

Unfortunately I'd have to put ZZZ in my least favorites, which is concerning bc I should give them more development and appreciation in the story. Unfortunately I can't make myself extremely invested in their story and character. It just doesn't hit me all that much, but I wish it did. ZZZ deserves so much better

Outside of lack of interest I'm not sure if I'm entirely comfortable discussing my least favorites bc I'd say those are related to actual irl bad memories and I don't wanna get into that w my current mental health.

Outside of the damn angels tho:

Ebony! I'm a big fan of hers! I love!!! Ebony!!!

Jetter/Peaches gets an honourable mention, she's still with me after all these years and has shared pain with me. And grown and developed into something better on top of it. Diane also gets an honourable mention, props to her for being the only reasonable and tolerable person in her family lmao

Kern. I like her. I just like her and think about her and Hael fairly frequently. Nothing too special I just like

Unjust funny and awful :)

Syöjätär. Nobody knows this one and I won't elaborate

Alby will always be so fun to draw but I'm not sentimental over him. Call him a mascot maybe.

Twig, I think they should get to beat people up <3 although I'm a little halfway on Twig, on one hand meh but on the other hand, such a compelling character. It's complicated

Theo, who's a pretty miserable wet rag guy but I grapple with my compulsions through him. He has those too, although they're different it's still at the core of the issue

Dave/Della the Illusionist probably, I can't get anywhere w/o mentioning er

#Ask #My ocs #Theo #Twig #Torpor #Ebony #Alby #Jetter #Eh I can't tag all of them #Thanks for the ask!! Genuinely

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years ago

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Here we are, I apologize for the delay you guys but I can guarantee you it is so worth the wait! A humongous shout out to my incredible co-author @imlostinsantacarla for writing this with me, I had an amazing time and this is arguably one of the best written posts I’ve done so far. SO without further ado, I give you

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [3/4]

CONTENT WARNING: Offensive Language, Blood, Child Birthing Process, Intense Environment! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Marko

The soft silver moonlight slithered through the cracks and crevices overhead in the hotel, illuminating your form in a tender glow. You laid casually atop the dusty old couch worn from years of perpetual abuse, staring up into the cave’s ceiling at the little slivers of sky you could see between them, fingers fondling the soft blanket wrapped around you. Nerves caused your heart to stutter as another set of cramps waded through your body, making you feel nauseated. However, you put on a valiant front, hardly batting an eyelash as your boyfriend Marko sat beside you, eyes fixated on your form in an adoring fashion, though there was worry mixed within his countenance, a deep groove carved between his brows. Granted when you had initially announced your pregnancy you could have gone about it differently, however you were met with a joyous response from your adoring vampire. Originally David had suggested they turn you whilst pregnant to prevent any foreseeable complications, but there arose a new set of issues. Your infant would be a hybrid of vampire and human, something none of you even knew was possible. The potential need for a live body could mean that turning yourself before the birth could kill him or her in the process. Even if the birth could result in your death, unfortunately, all you could do was patiently wait, as going to a hospital was surely out of the question. Nevertheless, patience was a virtue- one Marko had yet to achieve.

The months of waiting grew heavier on him as time ticked by, whilst the haunting lack of knowledge grew more frustrating with any passing discomfort he witnessed. His inability to help you outside of a shoulder to cry on when your cramps became too unbearable to sleep through made him feel helpless, a sensation that not only was he unfamiliar with; it was one he absolutely loathed. The boys did their utmost best to be accommodating to the situation, and one certainly had to give them credit for the amount of effort they had gone through. Dwayne had gone to the library for a few books for yourself and Marko, including one or two children’s books for the baby. Paul had spent his free nights shoplifting for supplies you’d need. No one could dismantle and sneak out an entire crib like Paul could. The guy had created a craft in the endeavor. David, with the help of Dwayne, had scoped through the caves and old hotel rooms still salvageable and managed to reinforce one of the rooms closest to their own cave. You eagerly draped the walls in colorful fabrics, finding an old dresser for your child’s clothes with a surface now cluttered with stuffed animals. Toys were crammed into a wooden chest, a massive rug laid across the old wooden flooring to deter any stray splinters from harming you. Watching Paul and Marko stubbornly argue over the crib instructions was certainly the highlight of your pregnancy while David was barking at them to move out of the way when he came carrying in the glider chair in one arm and a mass of pillows in the other. Although, you had to draw the line once Marko had smacked Paul with a two by four. Surely, that was uncalled for. But according to Marko, not so! Best friend or not, no one said he had the building skills of a drunk monkey!

Tonight was the night that would mark round about the eighth month of your pregnancy, and, - if it were truly possible -, Marko nearly had a heart attack when your false contractions came into play a few weeks ago. This ignited a vigilant nature within him, motivating him to remain much closer to you than he had previously been, which resulted in a lot of checking up on every unusual sound that you made. It was impossible for it to be helped. Well, that's what he kept telling you anyway.

"You know, I can skip out on the hunt tonight…" Marko trailed off, cool fare fingertips dancing along the soft flesh of your arms, creating goosebumps to rise in their wake. The contrast between body temperatures was ghastly and you shivered, more at the electric shock that raced through you whenever he touched you.

"Babe, you skipped out on the hunt last night, and the night before, and even the night before that. Marko, you must be starving!" You sighed irately, tipping your head back in frustration before turning it in his direction. Ever since the news of your pregnancy, Marko's primal instincts to protect you and your child had grown in vast numbers. It was pleasant to begin with, almost endearing… Though, as months sped by it had grown a hindrance because the young man was hardly even caring for himself now, and he hardly ever left your side. Honest to God, it was smothering, leaving you almost agitated at the sight of him. He was aware of this, yet still could not resist the urge within him that called for him to aid you in whatever way he could. There was an ample amount of anxiety over future happenstances such as your water breaking, uncontrollable cramps, the ACTUAL birthing of the child! You were understanding of his concern, but there was only so much that could be done. After all, you wanted your baby just as badly as he did. But he couldn’t allow his health to decline due to his own worry, you needed him. And frankly, your sense of unease was bordering onto the bandwagon of fear when you saw Marko’s ribs sticking tightly against his translucent flesh, a plethora of dark circles sinking his blue eyes into his skull. He wasn’t eating, he hardly slept, and soon he wouldn’t be able to control his frenzies.

"I don't know, baby girl," Marko began hesitantly, his round eyes widening as they peered into your own thoughtfully. Worry had never been a good look on Marko, and now, you longed for the days where reading him had been more difficult. His anxiety was like a fungi, infecting your very aura at the same time. "I don't wanna leave in case something happens you know? I mean, yeah, I guess I'm kinda thirsty but that stuff can wai-" You interrupted him with your fingertips gently silencing his lips, your eyes having shut as you breathed deeply to calm your nerves. This boy was driving you nuts.

"Marko, I know how worried you are. I am too. But babe, I can tell that it's getting harder for you to be around me because you haven't fed. I really don’t want to start smelling like a fillet mignon to you, and if you’ve been looking at me like some mouth watering steak, we run the risk of the baby becoming appealing as well, I know you don’t want to risk that." You quipped with a quirked brow, lips tucked up into a wry smile as you stared straight at him. Your case was a good one, there was no doubt about it. There could be a very good chance that Marko, albeit not on purpose, could harm you or the baby if he smelled the scent of blood or even heard a too hasty of a heartbeat. And if there were to be an accident such as that, Marko would be plagued by an immense amount of guilt for all eternity. “Besides, it’s only the seven and a half or eight month point right now. I’m not having the baby for at least six more weeks. Right now, I need you to be at your best. Please babe.”

"But-" Marko began to protest.

"She's right, Marko." David piped up lazily from across the room, his eyes never leaving the book that he had been reading. He turned the page briskly before continuing, "You need to feed. It's the basic terms of vampire-hood. If you don't, you die! Now, what good would that do anyone then?" He inquired sardonically, a trace of a smirk in the air.

"Yeah, bud! David and Y/n are right! Just go on one feed with us." Paul grinned from ear to ear at his bestest pal in the whole world, despite the horrifying fact that said best friend had hit him in the head with a two by four. Excitement had been rushing through Paul's entire being during this whole process. He was going to be an uncle man, how could he not be excited?! It had been such a bummer since Star left with Laddie, it’d be cool having some new tiny mind he could influence. Not that he'd even get as far to really influence the child without getting a brisk smack to the back of the head by David before you and Marko could even lift your fingers. No, he would not be teaching your child about the world of “Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll” at five years old!

"I mean-"

"With the way you're going, you're gonna be a shriveled prune." Dwayne muttered out of thin air as he slowly rolled past Marko and yourself on his skateboard. The hulking raven haired vampire came to a standstill as he stepped slowly off of his board. Dwayne was also right. Marko wasn't looking his brightest. Feeding was a nightly routine for a vampire in order to ensure they took in the right nutrients their dead bodies could not produce for themselves. Especially since they weren't capable of absorbing those nutrients through human food any more. Marko had to feed, there was no whisking his way around it, no matter how many excuses he could come up with.

The trio of boys stared at the curly haired blonde, your eyes also capturing his form. There was a stretch of intense silence that flooded through the hotel as Marko thought over his options, pushing a mesh of frizzed blonde hair away from his face. He didn't want to risk going out and a possible complication occurring with the baby or yourself. But he also didn't have a strong desire to cause a catastrophic accident whilst going into a frenzy when your heart rate started skyrocketing due to cramps or whatever. Already his mouth was watering profusely as he stared down at his worn hands beginning to wither from lack of nourishment, the consistent thudding of your heart and the delectable rush of your blood in your veins made it practically impossible for the man to focus for much longer.

"Man, just go! I'll stay with her." Paul finally interjected, slightly irritated that his buddy was being such a pansy about the entire situation. "If anything happens I'll scream at the top of my lungs or something, man. I got this! Scouts honor!" Paul added sarcastically, flattening a palm over his heart as he raised his free one up by his head. The entire thing looked comical, it made the others laugh.

"Yeah, sure, let me get the flowers early for the funeral," Dwayne muttered, settling himself on another dusty old couch with a soft sigh.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dick breath?" Paul roared, brows pulled together in anger, punching Dwayne’s shoulder..

“Can you even give scouts honor if you were never in it?” you asked with a laugh to your tone, raising a brow at the blonde trying to rapid punch the utterly indifferent vampire planted in place.

"Dwayne has a good point, Paul." David sneered at his comrade, blue eyes lit up like torches watching Dwayne yank Paul into a headlock on it’s way to a noogie. "You remember the last time we-"

"Ow! Okay, I didn't know she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol! But she never drank any so I don't get why you guys keep bringing this shit up!" Paul muttered, managing to wiggle himself out of Dwayne’s iron grip. With stubborn stomps he huffed, flopping onto the edge of the fountain in the middle of the room, his chin resting on his hands. He stared at you and Marko for a moment before continuing. "Man, I swear I won't pull another stunt like that again! I can take care of her! Dwayne told me the gist of what she can and can't have. I can do this, buddy." it was practically the most pitiful thing you had ever seen, it even tugged a little at your heartstrings.

You looked to Marko for confirmation and from the twinkle in his eyes, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. 'Let's just let him do this so he can stop pouting like a brat.'

"Alright, alright!" Marko stated, gloved hands raising up in the air in defeat. "You can watch out for her, but if ANYTHING happens, man, you've gotta go and find me. No fucking around and no fucking weed either!" Marko was firm as he spoke, eyes boring seriously into Paul's.

The sun broke out onto Paul's face, his pearly whites glinting from the fires scattered around the hotel. You could tell in that moment that Marko had made Paul's entire century. "Fuck yeah! Scouts honor, dude. Just like I said before!" the blonde rocker was practically bouncing in his seat like he needed a piss. He hardly looked like a badass biker vampire that went out murdering people left, right, and center every night. He looked more like a baby rabbit.

“I fucking mean it man,” Marko firmly repeated. “No weed, no booze, no being a dumbass.” Although he was being firm there was a slight twitch to his mouth. Being stern with Paul was often impossible but you had to admit, Marko was doing a grand job without the two by four!

Paul threw his hands up in the air in such a rushing motion that you were surprised they hadn't flung out of their sockets. “God damn, trust me man. I’m not gonna let anything happen! You guys need to gimme more credit here, who’s the one that stole a fucking crib for you assholes?”

With a tenacious huff, you wedged your hands behind your back feeling that the full weight of your belly was determined to keep you jammed between cushions, but nevertheless, you managed to heave yourself up and off of the dusty old couch with an audible grunt. The four boys' heads turned to watch you, instinctively with brows furrowed. They thought they'd insisted that if you needed to be moved, they would help you rather than let you strain yourself any more than you had to. But you were impossibly stubborn! You had insisted on multiple occasions that it was necessary for you to move, even exercise to keep you and the baby healthy. None of them were willing to humor you but you’d found that tuning out their protests was the best course of action in most occasions. And by impulsive habit, Marko dove over to offer you assistance, though you only responded by swatting his hands away from you. You were fine!

“I’m fine Marko, don’t worry I can get up on my own. Anyway, Paul’s right,” you agreed, looking over at your friend who beamed with delight at your praise, arms crossed over his chest with a nodding head of total satisfaction as if you had just given a mighty speech. “He’s not gonna let anything happen. Besides, what could really go wrong in just a few hours?”

"Babe, don't say shit like that, you could jinx it!" Marko cried incredulously, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"Babe get a grip. There's no such thing as “jinxing” things." His worrying was really starting to bug you. And what did you do in turn? You did and said the exact opposite of him, a way to subconsciously counteract the apprehension that oozed out of him like a foul smell. Carefully you took his hands into yours and placed them on your taut belly. “See? Feel for yourself.”

For the past several months Marko had attested to being able to hear your unborn spawn within your stomach. Not necessarily thoughts, but emotions. Cluttered, wild, uncertain emotions that would come in jumbled waves. There was a weary contentment within you, sleeping soundly in a cradle of water kept safe within. Finally his muscles began to relax, tension beading out into limp arms as Marko pulled you in for a firm hug, holding you against him.

“You promise me.. If anything happens, you scream for me immediately. No toughing it out because you’re worried about me eating.” He mumbled sweetly into your hair, taking in a slow inhale of your heavenly scent. It was the one thing that could soothe his soul instantaneously, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Marko-”

“Please, Y/n.”

His plea made your heart ache with slight agony. It was a desperate rasp, his arms almost trembling. There was a rush of relief filling him when you wrapped your own arms around him with a tender smile. “Okay. Alright, I promise, if anything happens I’ll call for you,” you hummed in tender response. For a moment you had to take a moment to pause, feeling a low and deep, sharp pain stretching from your abdomen to your back. Instead of making a fuss you tried to ease your breathing before Marko could notice. You weren't prepared to allow a few false contractions to get the better of you and stop him from getting his fill of the blood he so desperately needed at this point. And you also weren't going to play into any of Marko's anxieties either. You could do that when he returned from his hunt. Gently you lifted his chin. His cold lips felt cracked against your own, cementing how desperately he needed to feed. Even his kisses grew hungry, and you had to pull away from him before this grew into a horror show. “Go, you goof.”

It had taken some further convincing for him to leave, by the time he finally left with David and Dwayne it almost felt otherworldly in that cave. The lack of presence was almost spooky, though thankfully Paul was nice enough to loan you his walkman to curb the initial silence. Playing his Def Leppard tape you sat back into the couch, breathing through the occasional cramps that would continue to sneak up on you in a pulsing fashion. Hysteria was always your favorite album, as the dulcet tones of the rock ballad began to lull you into a half sleep state. But the continuous bombardment of contractions had begun to grow concerning. They weren’t slowing down, nor consistent in their spaces between as they should be. Cautiously you sat up, counting out the seconds between the first and the next. One minute, two minute, three… and again. For a full minute your muscles spasmed and ached, almost drawing an audible gasp from your mouth. Again you counted. One minute, two, th- no! Now it came again at a two minute interval. In a haste you peeled the headphones from your ears, grasping your stomach as you leaned forward suddenly. Your legs buckled, every time you tried to stand the pain just dragged you back down. “Fuck.. oh go- Paul!”

The blonde vampire was so lost in his own world he was nearly jolted out of his seat by your panicked cries. “What, what’s up you- JESUS!”

Without missing a beat, Paul slipped on the floor beneath his feet, barely having the reflexes to catch himself before his face could meet the ground with a harsh smack. The floor was soaked! Seriously, who spilled water everywhere? “Damn man, what happened here? Why is it all-” again, his words were paused, almost as if they'd been caught in his throat whilst he looked over your doubled over form clutching your profound belly. “Oh- oh shit! Oh fuck no way! Shit, holy fuck shit are you-?? Is it?!”

“Yes! ” You cried out incredulously, cutting off his panicked questioning in a hasty fashion. A sudden cry escaped your lips whilst you gasped in desperation, your spine going erect as you flattened your palms out behind you to stabilize yourself. "Oh god!"

"Oh shit man, I better get Mark-" Paul began, face having dropped to terror.

"No! I swear to go- ow! Paul, if you even dare- I swear I will stake you myself! Ow!"

“What, are you crazy?!” He demanded, jutting his arms in your direction. “You swore you’d call him, dude! This is big, man, he’ll kill me if anything happens to you! Oh fuck but he’ll kill me if I leave you alone- Fuck!” Paul swiftly kicked over one of the tables, running his hands through his mess of hair. The thing looked more like a lions' mane in all honesty. “Bed! We gotta get you to your bed, like now!”

"And how are we gonna do that, asshole?"

Paul's face soured immediately at your insult and with a swift motion, he swung you up into his arms bridal style, paying little mind to your plethora of protests. “Shut up already. I’m not doing this for my fuckin’ health! But you gotta be in bed! I may be a dumbass but I at least know that much!” He muttered, carefully tightening his grip as you attempted to wiggle out from it. He rapidly stepped over tunnels and rocks whilst he swung his way into the cavernous nursery where your bed was nestled into a corner, his calloused fingers on one hand releasing your legs as he pushed the black curtains that draped heavily over the frame. And with that, he placed you gingerly down on the bed, staring at you with a perplexed expression with a hint of something else. Was- no, that couldn't be embarrassment.

"What're you staring at," you questioned, a nervous twinge to your voice. You rolled on your side to relieve some of the pulsating throbs that ran rampant through your muscles.”

"Uh- well- shit! I mean, we need to take off your pants, man. What if you start pushing and the baby suffocate or something?"

“I can’t even start pushing until I know how dilated I am,” your voice was quivering, clutching your stomach. “If I were to push too early it could kill us both.”

"Oh fuck! Where's Marko when you need him?!"

The dreaded predicament was growing increasingly deadly the more your body warned of its approaching birth, and soon you were left with a terrifying decision. Wiping away the thick layer of sweat misting your flushed cheeks, you managed to breathe out a hesitant response. “Paul.. You have to go get him.”

"I’m sorry, WHAT?!" Paul’s voice echoed in the caves at a high pitched octave. “No! No freaking way, I am not leaving you here, you’re having a fucking baby! What if something happens to you? Fuck Marko being haunted, there’s no way I would be able to live with myself!” Paul ranted on, throwing his arms in the air whilst he paced around the sides of your bed in an antsy motion.

Sobs made your chest spasm uncontrollably, rolling over again onto your back. No position provided relief anymore, the contractions following still at an even two minutes each. “It could be hours before I’m actually ready to give birth! We have to know h-how far I am a-and the only way to do that…”

“...Yes? What way, c’mon maybe I can do that!” Paul stopped dead in his tracks to face you, serene as he had ever been in his entire life.

“You’d have to stick your fingers in me,” you groaned with imminent embarrassment, receiving an equal look of humiliation and horror from Paul’s pale face. He looked down, then at the cave’s entrance. Guilt plagued him, this kind of decision had never been put in front of him before. He knew his options were slim, but he also knew where they hunted, if he could catch Marko’s scent outside he could easily find him. But again, he looked at you writhing in pure agony on top of your bed in tears. A knot tore at his own gut like someone was trying to rip them right out of him, his throat aching when he swallowed, a dryness had developed from nerves. “You sure you can handle it until I get back. You fucking swear you’ll be okay? Just for a few minutes.”

You could only nod in response as the pain was so debilitating it rendered you utterly speechless!

“Please, just go get him.” You managed to squeak out intensely. The expression of pain mixed with fear that captured your beautiful features truly did break his heart.

Paul sighed deeply in defeat, his fingers gently pushing your hair from your face. “Stay tough kiddo, I’ll be fast as fucking lightning.” You hadn’t even seen him leave, a huge gust of wind caused the bed to shudder, leaving you utterly and completely alone.

Kicking away your soggy jeans, you promptly pulled yourself to the top of the bed with your back pressed against the headboard. With every passing contraction you fought to breath evenly through it, fingers tightly clutching the sheets beneath you. “Fuck...god Paul hurry please!”

Paul flew as speedily as he could carry himself through the air, his nocturnal eyes aflame, rapidly scanning the ground for any sight of his buddies. The fresh scent of blood wafted through the cool night's air which coaxed him closer to the boardwalk, perhaps a mile or two north. The fucking sand dunes, of course! Sure enough, amongst a towering, crackling bonfire stacked high with the charred remains of surfboards that belonged to screaming Santa Carlites currently being devoured, there he spotted the trio of vampires tearing and ripping into the flesh and bones of unfortunate victims. Their blood spraying in odd directions, splattering across their clothes and hair. "Marko!” Paul yelled far louder than he needed to, panic evident on his countenance whilst he clumsily crash landed into the wind whipped rouge sands below. The display caught the attention of his brothers immediately as they finished off their prey in a geyser of crimson fluids, leaving the ground stained.

Marko dropped the lifeless shriveled up human carcass he had been cradling savagely in his arms to the ground with little interest for it any longer. His previous frail lineament now long gone, replaced with a healthy complexion. Although Marko felt he was back to his full capacity, he couldn't help the immediate apprehension and terror that sparked within his chest as it panged in his gut nauseously. "Paul?! Dude what the fuck are you doing here, where’s Y/N?? What's wrong?" He asked, panic straining his voice.

"Dude! Fucking hurry up! I think Y/n's in labor, man!”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Marko demanded, grabbing Paul by his jacket. “You fucking left her?!”

“Marko, man, listen! One minute she was okay, the next she's screaming bloody murder and the fucking floors drenched!" Paul panted, doubled over as he'd flown here with all his might. "Before you ask, she's on her bed, okay? I took her there myself, even with her kicking and screaming. Dude I swear I didn’t just ditch! I swear, man I didn't wanna leave her but she said she needed someone to stick their fingers inside her or fucking whatever cuz if she pushes the baby will die, I dunno man but I'm not itching to do that ever!"

Marko said nothing, primal instincts kicking in full throttle as he sailed through the air and headed straight for the cave. His mind wandered to perilous details in furious cluttered thought, things that already created all the more apprehension to to twist in his gut, turning them round and round. His thoughts immediately went to the fact that you were alone in the hotel, in the purest of all agonies, having to go at this on your lonesome. The closer he sailed over the coastline the more he could hear. Your voice was just in the distance carried on the winds in gut wrenching cries that tore him apart. His next thoughts dwindled on your safety as well as the babies. He was very aware that there was no doctor involved in the mix, which meant no hospital and certainly no pain killers. He was terrified as his mind blasted through the worst of the worst. Didn't women used to die of childbirth back in the day? Was there a possibility that you could die?

Marko hadn't even noticed that the others boys had been hot on his heels, prepared to offer aid wherever they could.

"Marko, man! Slow down!" David called, struggling to keep up with the pace in which his pal was flying. The little bugger had gotten a head start, fueled by his pessimistic contemplation. But Marko didn't halt or slow down for that matter. There was no time for any of that! He had to get to the hotel and into your room as swiftly as possible, he wouldn’t dare slow down! What the hell was David even talking about anyway? Slow down?! Slowing down would do nothing but increase the chances of something else going wrong. He knew that the moment you'd spoken the words of, "what could go wrong in a couple of hours", that you had completely and utterly jinxed the entire night!

His body dove and swerved through the hotel passing caves and holes, nearly crashing as he sped to a desperate stop inside the nursery. Your screams were crystal clear, as though they were right there, yet the sound rattled his ribs until he thought he would pass out. Still hidden away behind pitch black curtains, he could almost see your pitiful form writhing in limitlessly excruciating anguish. Rapidly his steps carried him to your bedside where you were still smothered in fresh blood, wrenching away the curtains. The sight was a visage of carnage torn straight from hell itself! Yet you only saw your dearest prince, and it was truly a sight for sore eyes left distorted by cruel tears. His coarse hand clutched yours immediately, providing the first rare moment of sanctity you had felt. The sudden motion and contact from him startled you tremendously, causing you to shriek when another contraction sent you into a panic. "Hey, it's me, baby girl. It's just me." He cooed comforting down at you, his free hand smoothing your damp hair from your sweat slick face. He probably looked like hell, still covered head to toe in his latest victims blood. That probably wasn't the most hygienic state for him to be in during the birthing of his child. But he had to work with what he had. There wasn't exactly running fresh water in the hotel anyway. It was almost unbearable for him to watch you, the color drained from your cheeks, grasping his hand until he swore he heard bones begin to crack.

“Marko.. I-I can’t push yet.. I d-don’t know how far I am,” You choked out, pressing the back of your head into the mattress when pulsating rivers of agony wove through you in cruel waves. The pain was now a disarray of spontaneous choreography, a violent tempo swelling and spreading throughout your entire body, leaving your brain foggy and black spots waltzing at the corners of your vision.

Before Marko was able to utter a word, the three boys bounded into the room, breathless and covered in a film of dampness, no doubt most likely from the crashing waves of the sea that battered along the cliffs' edge. The intrusion was noisy and agitating, leading to Marko's eyes becoming beacons of flourishing orange and his head whipped towards the guys. "Will you guys get lost? I'm not about to have you guys stand there like the Triplets of Fucking Bullshit while I try to figure out how dilated Y/n is!" he practically roared, the cave was shuddering for a moment as specs of dust flitted sporadically to the ground.

“Marko, baby, please calm down," you begged him, placing a hand on his forearm. The sight of him still smeared in blood was one thing, but such rage even at his brothers almost frightened you, his head practically whipping around to face you with fangs bared and piercing white hot eyes tearing into your own. It felt like he had stared straight through into your soul which was certainly not what you needed currently. The petrified expression left plastered across your palored cheeks made Marko feel incredibly remorseful, running his fingers through his hair. He was running on little sleep and barely had enough to satiate his lingering appetite, leaving him still quite exhausted.

"It's fine. We'll clear out. C'mon boys." David stated, Dwayne having already left. He stared pointedly at Paul though, who was staring at you in fright. He felt as though he should be there, however, with David staring at him so intently, he glanced over your way. You could only give him a weakened smile, your gaze assuring him you were safe now. Paul hung his head low and squeezed past the spiked blonde boy briskly. And David followed suit, not sparing another glance your way. It seemed cold but truthfully, David wasn't entirely sure what to make of the situation. Heightened emotions made him uncomfortable. David was better away from this specific spotlight, and currently his friend was in a frenzy he wasn’t willing to have escalated in such a delicate moment. He'd deal with the aftermath once the storm had passed. Marko could deal with the storm singlehandedly if that's what he so desperately desired. I mean, David hadn't knocked you up, so why get his feathers ruffled when he wasn't wanted there anyway?

“You… owe th-them an... a-apology,” you managed to pant out, wearily smacking his arm when a moment of relief between contractions allowed your voice to return.

Marko huffed, shimmying off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair as he climbed on top of the bed with you, shutting the curtains. “I’ll make it up to them later babe, now’s not the fucking time.” Marko grumbled indignantly, his vampiric features morphing back to his human ones.

It was incredibly important for Marko to ensure that you were dilated 10 centimeters. This was not just for the babies sake but also for your own. If you pushed too soon it could prove fatal for you and your child. There was an instinct in you that told you to push, though Marko insisted adamantly that you hold off on pushing for the meantime. Stress riddled Marko to the core as he knelt down in front of you on the bed, his fingers comfortingly stroking your inner thighs prior to pulling back and nearing your entrance. To begin with he slipped in a finger, pushing softly as the books had told him until he reached the surface of the cervix which if he hadn't been reading the books that Dwayne had given him, he would have thought it didn't exist. Instead, he was met with a rubbery balloon-like texture which he knew was the bag of waters that held your baby. He slowly retracted his finger and added a few more, until he was certain that you were way past the 5cm mark. "Ow! B-babe! Tbh-that hurts!" You complained loudly, back arching off the mattress as you flinched, brows knitted together in contorted pain.

"Really?" Marko snapped, eyes meeting yours whilst his fingers froze within you. "You've had much worse in there and a few fingers hurt? Sheesh!" He stated slowly, his expression flattening momentarily. And suddenly, as if by magic, the tension that had been suffocating the pair of you lifted somewhat, causing the pair of you to chortle for a moment before you winced, a grimace clouding your expression.

"Shut up you complete asshole, h-how about I sh-shove a watermelon up you butt, s-s-see how you like it,” you breathlessly laugh, leaning your head back against your pillow. “So, c-can I p-push now, or not?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain that you're 10 centimeters now, babe."

Some form of twisted relief washed over your soul in that moment as you let the instinct to push was over you. There was a slow, long drag pulling through your back. It was like a tiger had dug it’s hooked claws into you and was pulling them down through your flesh. The endeavor was tiring, grueling in fact, leaving you dizzy and exhausted. But yet there was a set determination that took over you whilst you pushed desperately. Your toes tightly curled in place, grunts and panting replaced by blood curdling screams that sent chills down any who heard it. Tears made it impossible to see, the salty concoction of tears and sweat staining your face. Everything burned, you were fearful you may pass out. Though as soon as you pushed you found yourself holding your breath, to which Marko had to coach you through how to breathe. A deep breathe in and another deep breathe out. In through the nose out through the mouth. Well, more like, in through the mouth and back out again. He also had to remind you when to rest,especially when he took note of exhaustion blanketing across you.

“Marko- I can’t! No, no! Fuck I can’t it hurts so fucking bad,” you cried out until your throat was raw, having to be snatched by him before you launched up, pinned precisely in place by his steel grip. “No, god, I can’t do this! Please, I-I can’t I can’t it h-hurts!”

"Come on, baby girl you can’t stop now! You have to hold still, it’s gonna be okay, you've got this." Marko encouraged ceaselessly, offering his pale hand to you to hold. Using his other he cemented you in place, knowing one wrong move could kill the baby. Your strength caught him by surprise when you snatched his hand tightly, grateful he couldn’t feel the crushing grasp of your fingers as his dead bones began to crack. Fortunately for him, years of rigor mortis and rot had decayed most of his nervous system by now. He held your head back on his chest, continuing to coax you with tender words. “Almost there baby, almost I know it hurts, I know, I’m so sorry baby." He whispered softly into your ear, his cool breath fanning across your hot flushed skin. You swallowed thickly, almost as though you were in a trance as you continued your strained pushes. A pinkish liquid spilled out and onto the sheets in a cruel, seeping motion. Marko noted it’s scent carried a heavy copper tone and glanced down as the pale salmon tint deepened into a dark crimson hue. Your screams had nearly numbed his ears by now, although it was not a sound he desired to grow accustomed to.

Marko softly unwound his arms around you, though he kept his left hand in your ironclad grip. He needed to ensure that blood was the baby’s head crowning and not some horrendous miscarriage. He wouldn’t dare mention the alternative to his mate mid-birth, pushing away the blankets covering your legs and to his amazement there was your baby's head crowning momentarily before slipping back inside. From what he'd read, this was a completely normal process, your pushing, in conjunction with your contractions would continue to shift the baby down the birthing canal and out of you. Your heels dug into the mattress with your back arching upward as your mouth was aghast in treacherous suffering, a hideous cry drawing tears from your eyes. The room began to sway, the pace of your heart was that of wild horses unleashed on an open plain. Heat grasped you from every angle, it was getting harder to breathe the more you fought through it. Fear grabbed hold of your lungs, squeezing violently, picking up your heart rate until Marko could hear it thundering beneath your rib cage like a frightened animal wanting to be let loose of its cage. Your rapid labored breaths carried a concerning pace that had him beside you once again.

“Marko.. T-the room..,” you tried to whimper out between screams, head swaying to the side staring at the pitch black curtains that somehow seemed to be seeping into your surroundings. You could feel the drag pulling down your back into your birth canal, you were so close but the sheer exhaustion tempted you to faint at any moment. “I..I can’t..” you gasped out under your breath so quiet he almost thought he'd imagined the words.

"Just one more push, babe," Marko pleaded, brushing his hand over your damp forehead. In a sweet, yet ardent motion your hair was pushed back from your face. You clung to his hand, pressing your forehead against his frigid palm savoring the relieving rush of cold. The sight of his wide eyes connecting with yours forced a momentary breath of air, those perfect blue pools gave you something to focus on. The blackness was scattered, a last scream forcing it's way out of your throat as you gave one final push, the dragging motion within you halting. Light faded in and out of your vision, rapid black splotches flickering around the room, the pain becoming dull and pulsating. You hardly even noticed the muffled, shrill cries emitting from your newborn, or the fact that Marko had already had her wrapped in a towel once he'd cut the umbilical cord. Your chest shuddered when you breathed, the small pink infant squirming beneath white fabric making whimpering grunts. Small fingers stretched out, clutching at Marko’s shirt.

“Marko.. Wh-what are they,” you groaned our, flickering lashes barely keeping you conscious.

Marko hesitated to glance between misted eyes, choking out a stunned laugh. “A girl…”

The blood stained her red skin, and before he could wipe away the sticky red substance off her fingers she suckled at the red liquid, eyes bright white just as his were when his fangs were bared. She had yet to form her own, and when there was none left on her hand they had faded back into little grey, uncolored orbs. The lack of food had become noticable, and she let out a fussy whine, kicking her feet against the blanket in a fit. So that's what she needed to feed on. Marko gently bounced her in his arms, nuzzling his forehead against hers until her tantrum was subdued. “Shhh shhh, it’s okay baby girl.. Plenty of time for that later... Daddy will bring you a big ol bag of blood when mommy feels better, I promise.”

You blinked away tears as she was delicately passed into your arms, weighing no more than eight or nine pounds just as weary as you were. “Wilhelmina...,” you choked out, brushing your fingers across her plump cheek.

“Billie huh?” Marko asked, laying on his side beside you with his bent arm elevating his head, his fingers reached out to brush against the blonde dusting of hair on the head of his daughter, a grin plastered on his face, an exhausted twinkle dancing in his eyes. "I like that... Wilhelmina it is.."

He now felt like finally, in these eight months of your pregnancy, that he could catch some shut eye. Time had become distorted, he had no idea whether it was daytime or night time any more, the two may as well have been blurred together. In your safe haven of thick black flowing curtains, Marko placed Billie delicately into your heavy arms, slumber already having wrapped you tightly in its deep and vast embrace. He curled his fingers around the dark fabric, pulling it skeptically out of the way. The room was swallowed in darkness, however, his nocturnal eyes easily scoped out the shut door at the other end of the room. He thought for a minute, capturing his bottom lip in between his teeth. He chewed on it for a moment before pulling himself up and off the bed. Truthfully now that his territorial rage had fizzled out he knew he owed the guys for how much of an ass he'd been when confronted with your unexpected labor.

With tentative steps, so as not to disturb you, Marko flitted towards the shut door, no light seeping underneath the crack of the door. He twisted the knob carefully, a low squeak creeping into the air as he opened the door. He stepped out into the passageway leading to the main cave and began a somewhat hurried stroll. Honestly he was ecstatic to tell the boys. To show them his daughter was something he was practically bouncing on the spot for he couldn't wait!

Marko, briefly unaware with his contemplation cluttering his mind, did not fully register the danger as he stepped forward into a stream of sunlight just up ahead cutting clearly through the decrepit roof of the hotel. It wasn't until the searing sizzle of his flesh did he register that he was caught aflame from the sun's rays. With a shriek he recoiled, battering at exposed flesh to kill the flames. He smoldered for a moment, back pressed to the wall as he peered into the vacant lobby of the ancient hotel. He sighed, shaking his head in dismay. "Dammit! Well... I guess they'll just have to meet Billie tonight then," he concluded with finality, not giving it much thought before he turned and made his way back to your room with heavy eyelids, finally content. As he padded softly into the room, shutting the door behind him, Marko couldn't help but feel relief wash over him. It was an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders now that he'd be able to go out to feed without fearing something could happen to you. That was more than enough to cure him of any and all anxiety that had previously immobilized him.

As he settled himself underneath the covers, he brought you closer, baby Billie placed tenderly between you both and he grinned half halfheartedly, a dopey, wide grin that pulled on his heavy eyelids. "I'm kinda glad you jinxed it, babe." he breathed into the air before he allowed the weight of sleep to shut his eyes and encapsulate him in its lulling motion.

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mollyphoria · 4 years ago

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(off my chest post.)

As soon as I turned the age of 27 last year it was like I've been awaken from a cruel false dream. I opened my eyes then boom I see 27 years of my life laid out in front of me wasted. Yes it took 27 effin years for me to wake up. I wasted all this years and now I'm suffering the consequences of not following my heart, now I'm suffering the repercussions for not realising my dreams sooner as well as pursuing them. I don't believe in myself enough to stand for what I really want so I let society dictate me. I dont love myself enough to believe that I have the capabilities to follow my dreams, luck wasn't on my side too,the odds were never in my favor. So yes I guess I blame both myself and the circumstances given to me on why I failed in life. I failed myself. Society failed me. The system failed me. Oh how I envy people who were able to realise their dreams when they were a kid. these people mostly turns out to be the successful ones in life while I'm left in shambles of not knowing what to do or having such a huge dream I knew I would never reach it. I wanted to become a supermodel but I'm not pretty and tall enough plus I'm from a country not supported by society on having supermodels. Then I wanted to be a rock star. Touring the world, playing the guitar, performing on stage. I can probably make this happen but once again I don't believe in myself and lack of support from family/society was what made this dream seem to get more impossible. I would like to pursue the arts anything from singing, dancing,writing ,painting,drawing etc but I let myself be influenced by what our society drills in my head everyday that there's no money with any of these endeavours so I never got serious to try to achieve greatness from these "useless, juvenile" dreams and plus you need God-given talent to qualify pursuing the arts and I don't have an ounce of it.

So as time goes by I continued to grow older like a dead leaf flailing around in the wind without a specific direction but downwards. But deep-rooted in my soul I knew what I wanted but I chose to stupidly ignore that little voice in my heart that tells me what to do. I to this day continue to beat myself up why I haven't even tried to listen to myself.

So what I did was to completely surrender myself to settle for a lesser,smaller dream that I could possibly reach according to the circumstances I'm handed with

I took up a course in college that I felt at the time would be something I would enjoy and easy,cheap enough to simply graduate and have that diploma just for the sake of it. When I got into the real world and became a full pledge adult for the first time ever I got hit by depression and that's when I first acknowledge that I'm not made for this at all but what I did instead of abandoning it was to try again and aim higher which is to have my own wings and to fly high in the sky and see the world. I held on to that dream. I went to school again. For a moment I had a purpose and for the first time I had direction. I thought I found myself as I try to get those wings. I thought that this will be my redemption. I made myself to believe that I'm meant to do this. I went above and beyond to achieve success. But alas I continued to be the chosen reject and once again odds weren't exactly on my favor and I have given up by the time I'm 27 years old. This is when it all crashed down on me I was chasing a dream gone dead all those years and basically wasted my youth as a result and gained nothing at the end. And I have to admit that i somewhat resent God for putting this dream to flourish in my heart but never gave me a breakthrough to even achieve it. I was left beaten and destroyed. I slaved myself away for nothing, experienced all those sufferings for nothing. I got nothing for all those sacrifices and hardwork I did. Literally all those blood,sweat and tears were for absolutely nothing at the end. I was utterly broken down,my heart was utterly crushed nothing left but broken pieces and a whirlpool of regret. If even this small, mediocre dream I settle myself for is still unattainable for me then my life is no longer worth living. I then proceed to wallow on self pity and resentment and went down to the worst depression I've ever experience in my life. Tears kept on falling like faucets in my eyes. Every streak of effort, energy, motivation ,hope left my body,mind and soul altogether. I turned ultimately dead inside. I don't have anything left in me to even pretend to continue fighting my way into this world. I can't even help myself to help myself. it's like I already died and what was left is just a hollow husk of my former self.

At 27 yrs old i went back to zero. I'm left with nothing to hope for, I didn't gain anything from all the things I went through. After Having the painful knowledge that the journey I made for myself all throughout my teenage to mid twenties is only to become of worthless dust and vomit at the end it made me inevitably bitter about life in general. I started acknowledging thoughts of dying for real. How I realized that it's better to be dead than to be alive, how I wish to have never been born at all. I missed all of these opportunities to win in life and I felt like giving up. Because Life is Suffering nothing more nothing less we will continue to suffer coz that whats life for this is the true meaning of life we are just put here to live so we can suffer and I'm not cut out for it I'm too weak to even restart again.

I realized alot of things. When I was a kid I was always looking forward to the future. I was foolishly, completely convinced that my life will get better as I get older and now that I'm older it turned out to be such a stupid thought coz life didn't get better it only gotten worse and it could only get worst from here on out.

Starting now I shouldn't hope for things to change for the better. It's dangerous to have a false hope and I swear to myself that I wouldn't let myself be fueled by false hope anymore.

And now that it's October I will turn a year older unless I cease to exist first.

I'm honestly scared of the future, now that I can see the true essence of it in its whole entirety.

At 28 I'm running out of time.

I missed the chance to get my life stable.

At 28 I'm entirely clueless on how to get my shit together and I don't even think I have the strength to improve myself. I felt like I just don't care anymore.

At 28 I should have already bought my mother a new house instead I'm stuck and rotting away in a room at her own old house.

At 28 I'm still miserable asf

Still bitter asf

Still dumb asf

Still doubtful asf

Still a loser asf

Let me discuss the thoughts I have about this song 28 of Agust D. This song single handedly describes the anxiety I feel for getting older. The fact that the age he pertained on the title of this song is 28 exactly the age I'm about to turn into soon just solidifies the strong grip it acquired to hold my heart and soul. I felt extremely lucky to turn 28 at the same year with someone as genius as him (tho his 27 international age) nevertheless I'm thankful about this.

Tho there are things that I'm honestly confuse about him having the same fears with someone like me who's a nobody without any single awards, recognitions, accolades or any kind of impact to the world, who's not loved and praised by millions nor have millions of money in my bank account, who doesn't have a big house,big cars nor big rings.

It baffles the living daylights out of me that a person like Min Yoongi who achieved so much in life would feel scared about not knowing his dreams is really about as he gets older. He basically achieved every single one of the dreams I have for myself. His overly set for life that his great great great great great grandchildren will be also set for life. His life wasn't the same like before. His life changed for the better . He earns millions of money by doing what he loves at such a young age. He simply won in life.

We are both 28 but the life I'm bestowed in is the utmost opposite of the life his bestowed in. I'm at the loser end of the spectrum while his in the winner side yet we share somewhat the same fears and anxiety about having to grow older.

This made me question if happiness is really just an illusion. well the genuine authentic euphoric kind of happiness.

Is existence all really just a one big mess with occasional ephemeral pleasure?

If a person who accomplished so much at only 28 still feels depression what's left for me then should I just go kill myself?

Alot of the reasons why I got into this level of depression is because I didn't fulfill anything Yoongi fulfilled.well I'm not really into fame so much but i hope i succeeded on not having to worry about whether I could buy a house or rent an apartment. Yoongi could buy a building for himself while I can't even afford a bedspace of my own

Yoongi could travel the whole world in a whim while I'm mostly stuck in the same place

The stark contrast of our lives is so immense I cant even get my head wrapped around it

My only dillema is that I'm afraid to die but I'm also afraid to live

It's been proven to me now that living in this world is not really living at all it's just purely surviving and I can't deal with this

I'd rather die than to be a slave to the system. And it seems like I don't even have a choice maybe to disappear is the only way out

I'm just not cut out with the cards I've been dealt with

If only I could voluntarily pull my existence out of here then I would do it in a heartbeat

I wish there is a stop button from all of these

#twenty eight #agust d #october #time #sadnees

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theangrypokemaniac · 5 years ago

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I've been on Tumblr ten months now, and this blog has existed for nine of them. During that time I have noticed something.

The majority of the posts I've come across have been by and for the S&M scene, as is to be expected.

The second-most frequent are Indigo League, which I don't think is bad going considering it was broadcast before most Tumblerries were born.

Third-most popular I would say is Sinnoh, probably for being the introduction for many here.

After that I've seen bits on Johto, a smattering of Orange League (unsurprising given it's briefness) and maybe a single item on Hoenn.

No one likes that then? Is it Max? Go on, it is.

What I find odd is that, in all that period, I haven't seen anything on Unova or Kalos. No fan art, no screen shots, nothing.

I'm sure someone can point to a bounty of pieces I've overlooked, all done within the last year, but if so, they're well-hidden, as none of the people I follow have shown any interest in re-blogging them.

If you have done any, you must admit the amount has depleted considerably.

Why is this? Is it of no interest anymore?

This in itself validates my own opinion. Had I been here when Unova and Kalos were broadcast, I presume over half of the posts I'd see would've been devoted to them. If I then spoke harshly of either, that would not have been well-received.

However, if dropped, both by the audience and writers as soon as the latest generation arrives, wasn't I right to not be impressed?

If cast aside by those who claimed to worship them, were they really of any worth at all?

Well the same fate has now befallen Alola. I make no secret of how much I despise it, and can not grasp its appeal for anyone.

I don't know how Pokémon even has a fanbase anymore, given that it's ugly, boring and repetitive.

Prior to the arrival of the S.S., I suspected that Alola material would drop, vanishing altogether once a year's worth came to a close, and so it has proved to be.

It's gone from making up roughly 60% - 70% of dashboard posts to about 10% - 20%, in only a few months. Is it that bad then?

It can't be explained as excitement for the new, not with the amount of coverage Kanto gets, and even that isn't motivated by reminiscence, given the average age of the current viewer.

Why are you still posting about something that old? It reminds me of my wasted youth, but what's your excuse?

Why, when the writers want to wallow in nostalgia, do they hark back to Kanto, which no modern fan can remember?

Is no one looking with misty-eyed fondness at Iris and Cilan? Why not?

Or is that an admission that it was so appallingly bad even the writers recognised it, that's why it's been so hastily forgotten?

You could watch Pokémon from the beginning to the close Sinnoh, skip the next two eras, starting again with Alola, and you would never know there'd been a between.

Unova is described as a 'soft reset', with regards to its inverted nature. The arrogance of those writers is staggering:

• Trying to erase all that'd gone before, supplanted by their half-arsed efforts.

• Redesigning everyone with Fish Eye and flat profiles.

• Resetting Ash as not even knowing the basics.

• Warping Team Rocket's established personalities into disgusting, soulless lizard people robbed of all charm and charisma.

• Only new Pokémon existing.

• Catches kept with Juniper not Professor Oak etc.

The irony is that Unova Pokémon are copies of the first 151, so whilst deliberately ignoring the past, they can't resist imitating it, thanks to their own woeful inadequacy. I suppose they hoped if they didn't notice, we wouldn't either.

They then undermined their own decision by stuffing everything available into the third run, as a blatant effort to win back the crowd, including:

• Reverting to Team Rocket's actual motto, not that embarrassingly pretentious codswallop.

Too bloody lazy to make it rhyme now!

Notice they opted not for the Sinnoh one, although more recent. It was straight back to the beginning.

• Look at these hundreds of Pokémon we suddenly remembered!

Just before Giovanni's mid-life crisis, Ash spotted a Rattata, but it having been so isolated from the outside world, his brain fell to mush at the concept, and pronounced it 'retarda'.

Idiots are so easy to please!

• Charizard! Genwunners love Charizard! Give 'em Charizard and they'll forget everything else we've done! Let's condense his entire story arc into one episode of meaningless retelling!

So, Charizard was there to bait the first wave, and yet we had the plot we know repeated to us anyway?

Don't refer to the past and everyone will think it's brand-new!

It makes no sense. How could this be done with the hope of drawing in old fans, and yet filling up an episode with it as plotline isn't an issue, when the intended targets know it's been done before?

• Butterfree! Genwunners loved Butterfree leaving! Let's condense his entire story arc into one episode of meaningless rehash!

Why would they remain when finding the same thing again, absent of feeling and subtlety, not to mention upon discovering the damage done elsewhere?

Recent incomers, who might assume it's a fresh idea, have no emotional connection with Butterfree, so who is it meant to please?

Why is Mewtwo a woman?

• Mewtwo! Genwunners love Mewtwo! Let's copy its background for Genesect rather than be creative! Look, it's Mewtwo! Watch it!!!

Erm... It's not the same Mewtwo...

It's not the same Mewtwo?

You believe the way to an original fan's heart is to lie to them, and in the process smash a fundamental principle of canon that there can only be one Mewtwo?

The writers get a deserved excoriation round these parts, because someone has to, as what part of that film suggested the current crop give the tiniest toss about what matters to you and me?

I'm glad Unova is labelled 'the Dork Age' as every series since its dawn has been atrocious.

Hoenn and Sinnoh held massive flaws, but they're masterpieces compared to what followed. At least they felt like Pokémon, albeit a watery interpretation.

Unova has to be truly lowly for the dunces responsible to recognise it, and neither Kalos or Alola have been as cut off from their predecessors.

I don't believe that's a sign of contrition, more a matter of necessity. Thanks to the same personal limitations there just weren't enough new Pokémon in either era to make such insularity possible. Even between the two it'd be a scrape.

Except whilst previously invented Pokémon designs may be involved, there's no sign of actual familiar characters.

Ash took his original team to Johto, and even in Hoenn and Sinnoh, where local catches took precedent, older Pokémon were still referenced and came back for the League, but that stopped with Unova.

It's evil influence strikes again!

Despite flimsy nods to the past, which can't be avoided, each generation is now a world unto itself, to the point that individual episodes live by their own canon, a feeble web of strands unrelated to anything else.

Why is it considered 'retro' enough to say, have Forms of Kanto Pokémon, for which we're expected to be so grateful, when there's no mention of Ash's earlier squad?

Remember Tauros? And Kingler? And Muk?

Remember Bayleef? And Noctowl? And Heracross?

Remember Corphish? And Torkoal? And Swellow?

Remember Buizel? And Gible? And Torterra?

They don't. As far as I can tell none of them exist anymore, and maybe aren't meant to ever have done.

Same as Gary, Cassidy and Butch, Jessibelle, Tracey, and so on. Until they do, and don't again. Whatever is convenient to today's storyline.

My typical attitude is that the first series is the best thing ever, and it's all been downhill from there, with Unova and all that came after reaching incredible depths of tedium. I don't suppose you like that, but the ephemeral tendencies displayed on Tumblr hardly help change my opinion.

At some low ebb I'll get round to watching Galar, which I'm confident I'll hate as much as the last few generations, based on what I've already seen and heard.

There's little point doing otherwise. Why bother getting involved with the 'plot' or characters if, when it's over, they'll never be spoken of again?

What incentive is there for me to even force myself to like Galar when, once the ninth generation (Pokémon Keenan and Kel) emerges on the distant horizon, those who've sung its praises for three or four years and scoffed at criticism, will drop it without a backwards glance?

Yet talk about the Indigo League is ever present, somewhat proving its superiority. Attachment to it is a subconscious acknowledgement of the dearth of quality in the modern mentality, but which no one can bring themselves to admit.

#Pokémon #Unova #Iris #Cilan #Charizard #Butterfree #Mewtwo #Tumblr

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rainstorms-little-creations · 2 years ago

Text

Holy hecc it's been nearly 2 weeks since i made an original post

That's because i've been procrastinating due to my lack of motivation :D

Anyways i have another oc to show y'all. They don't have a name yet so i've just been calling them Future Boy. Behold, him✨

(click for better image quality)

Future Boy is a character in the same universe as my other OCs Edith and Agnes. As the name suggests, he is from the Distant Future™. The Distant Future™ in this case is approximately the 24th century where the earth has become destroyed beyond repair. Biodiversity is but a distant memory and the air is so toxic and polluted that one must wear a gas mask to go outside. The billionaires and trillionaires live on a newly terraformed Mars with clean air and the most advanced technology whilst the rest of humanity wither away on the shell of a planet that used to be Earth.

Ever since the day he learned of what the earth used to be, Future Boy has spent his life dreaming of living in a world where climate change never wrecked his planet. Technology has advanced so much by now that time travel is now possible. Future Boy manages to steal a time machine and transports himself to the past. He lands in the 21st century where he meets a scientist who is on the brink of inventing time travel herself. In a fight where the scientist attempts to sieze Future Boy's time machine, the two accidentally end up activating the device which sends them to the year 1892. Future Boy and the scientist somehow manage to lose the time machine and it ends up in the hands of Edith and Agnes, two Victorian #galpals.

The scientist and Future Boy are now stuck in 1892. The scientist lady essentially threatens him into either finding the time machine or building a new one so that she can return to her time. By now, Future Boy has gotten what he wanted. He traveled back in time and got to experience the earth before its decay. But they are not yet fully satisfied, they wish to travel back even further to when humanity was just another group of animals in nature, perhaps even further. Before their species had any impact on the planet that they knew would eventually lead to its destruction. But Future Boy can't do that without the time machine, so they continue to search day after day with no idea that the device has basically been within his reach the entire time. (By that i mean that edith and agnes, who have the machine, live in the same town that future boy and the scientist are currently residing in).

So yeah that's the backstory/context for this character. I haven't designed the scientist lady yet, but once i do i will be posting about her. Also that little red alarm clock that future boy is holding in the drawing is the time machine. I suppose i should make another design for him where he's wearing 1890s clothing since he's living in that time now. The only name i've come up with for him is Neo, idk futuristic names are hard ok. I guess i could just google some names and pick which one i like lol.

Anyway i think this whole story and these characters would make for a really fun webcomic. I think if i just keep the story simple enough, it should be good for my first comic. I would like to have some help with that though haha.

I'm gonna go sleep for 17 h now bye bye /j

#my ocs #lizard dumbass's art #ocs #digital art #my ocs art #my ocs drawing #oc #oc info #infodump

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yellowocaballero · 3 years ago

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Okay, so I actually have written a scene that was specifically about Fox and his relationship with the Emperor. It's from a story that didn't work out, which was basically a Fox POV in the No Chip AU thing that would have been a little like the Bly thing.

Because, like, Fox and the Emperor in a situation where Fox was not built to become a robot, where Fox was actually designed & trained to be a good Imperial instead of just brainwashed there - well, the funniest thing is that almost nothing actually changes for Fox. But absolutely his relationship with the Emperor changes, because now Fox is a genuine right hand man (and a tool) instead of only a tool. Imagine one of those cartoon supervillains with the right hand lackey who's just in the background texting the entire time like, I'll pull the lever if you want boss, sure, :/

As I just said - I would want Fox was my right hand man! Holy shit! He's PERFECT. If you work under the assumption (as Palps does) that Fox is designed to be loyal and would never not be loyal, then he is the most competent secretary of all time. And he's one who will never put his own agenda over yours, who never acts out of greed or political motivation, who never wants anything.

So if you've read the No Chip AU thing, then I've posted the scene underneath the readmore. If you haven't read the No Chip AU thing, then actually you can read it just fine anyway. You'll just be wondering why Cody's a fash lol. I'm actually a pretty big fan of it and I hope I get to reuse it for a story that actually gets finished. Here you go! It's really short I promise.

Fox had always been like this.

Jango had thought he was weird. Jango had thought they were all freaks, but in times of optimism Fox liked to think that they were his freaks. Jango, at least, had understood Cody and Wolffe and Ponds and Rex: if Wolffe and Ponds are punching each other, make them stop. If Cody’s tattling, tell him not to bootlick. If, as a conglomerate, they were bullying the other cadets, then let them, who cares. Bly and Fox, however, Jango could never relate with.

But even then, all he had to do with Bly was nod as he pointed to different parts of his drawing and explained the story for every figure. Nod, then tell him to get back to work. He kept the drawings, but Fox was the only one who had ever noticed that. It was Fox who Jango had never managed to crack.

He hadn’t talked much - not out of shyness, but of a genuine disinterest. Wolffe translated his placid stares to everyone else, mostly as insults. Jango had worked surprisingly hard to draw a genuine conversation out of him and frequently hadn’t succeeded. Fox had only tried to explain it once, somewhat badly.

“You’re acceptable as a commander in the field,” Jango had told him, which was easily translated as ‘perfect’. He had called him to stay behind and help him with weapons clean-up, which was code for a semi-friendly conversation. Maybe, perhaps, involving a few feelings. “But outside of the field, you’re…”

Fox had stared at him, unblinking.

“...that. Any reason why, Tens?”

They worked in silence for a second, sharing in their mutual tendency to chew over words before saying them (it was a common trait, albeit one that Bly didn’t have). Eventually, Fox put his blaster cleaner down and stared intently at the spot left to Jango’s left ear.

He clasped his hands in front of him, letting Jango raise an eyebrow. “Other people are like this.”

Jango squinted. “Is that a metaphor for the mind-body connection between the manda and the beskar’gam?”

Fox never paid attention during the religion lessons, so he did not know. He just separated his hands instead, holding his left and right hands a foot apart. “I’m like this.”

Jango stared at him further. Fox nodded wisely.

“Alright,” Jango said slowly. Boba’s toddler years had increased his patience threefold. “Can you show me where other people and Kamino are, Tens?”

Upon a second’s consideration, Fox straightened his hands into flat planes and laid them on top of each other.

“Right. So where are you and Kamino?”

Fox widened the gap between his hands almost a foot.

“Hm.” Jango squinted at him further. “And that’s why you do nothing but stare at the ceiling in your free time.” Fox nodded. “Alright. Well. I don’t actually care, so. Have fun.”

In Fox’s opinion, it was the other clones who were weird. Every day was the exact same, day in and day out. Nothing ever changed for them. Clock in mentally long enough to do what you need to do, then clock out again. Stay clocked out as long as you could - while running, while shooting, while flash training - and clock in when they make you. Or when Wolffe makes you. Life was already exhausting enough, so there was no point in making the thing even more tedious. He had procrastinated on a name longer than anybody else in his batch, to the point where everyone had started assuming he would go by ‘Tens’ for the rest of his life.

He didn’t even really want to be a commander. It sounded like a ton of work. His dream was a nice watchman posting in some boring outpost on the edge of nowhere, with no fighting and no responsibilities. They made him a commander anyway, because nobody asked for his opinions on things, and apparently he was too good at everything not to be a commander. Something about him going to waste. Fox loved waste, he didn’t see what the big deal was.

When they were ten, Fox, Bly, and Cody were pulled out of Jango’s command class. He scowled as they left, but didn’t stop them. They were directed to walk down the halls, long and winding, far beyond any area they had even seen before. Into a staff area, and deeper into the trainer’s area. Cody grew more and more anxious with every step; Bly was rambling about their headstart on endless command formwork; Fox was thinking about tookas. It felt like forever before they saw Bacara and Neyo standing stiffly in front of a door, exchanging pointed eyebrows in a way that only batchmates could. Bacara and Neyo were decanted right before Fox’s batch, making them physiologically a year older and completely insufferable.

“Hey, ori’vod’e,” Bly called, waving a hand. “You know why we’re here?”

Bacara and Neyo exchanged a glance before rolling their eyes in sync.

“They don’t,” Cody said flatly. “They’re pretending it’s a stupid question so they don’t have to admit they don’t know either.”

Neyo bared his teeth. “Alright, Cadet Priss -”

“Oh, man, it’d be super funny if you start punching us again,” Bly said cheerfully. “I want to see them finally put a black mark on your record and knock you out of command.”

“Trainer incoming,” Fox panned, and all hostility sank into the sea as they straightened to attention just in time. Fox wondered what they had been fighting about before he remembered that he didn’t care.

One of the trainers, a short humanoid Mandalorian woman with an aggressive walk and sharp tones, rounded the corner just as they straightened. She pushed through them as they leapt aside, typing in an unusually long code and scanning an identichip before the door slid open.

“You five are not to tell anybody about what you discuss in this room or who you’ve discussed it with,” the trainer said, fast and clipped. They followed her in as soon as possible, falling automatically into line. “Not the other trainers, not me, not Jango. I know how bad y’all are at keeping secrets from each other but this is an order.”

Even Fox’s heart sped up, and they all nodded as one.

The room would have been banal in any other part of the galaxy but Kamino. It was a communications room - the fancy kind, with a big platform meant to accommodate large holoconferences. As Kamino didn’t have holoconferences, and everybody you ever spoke with lived down the hall, it was the first time Fox had seen one in person. Fox and his brothers lined up against the wall, banishing all thoughts of a firing squad from his mind, as the trainer shut the door behind them with a final click. The room was dim, like all conference rooms, and it made Fox feel as if he had wandered into a particularly self-important box.

“You will be speaking with the Emperor. You know the drill -” The who!? “ - don’t speak unless spoken to, short answers only. Eyes to the floor. You say ‘my lord’ instead of sir. You say ‘Lord Sidious’ instead of General or whatever. Everybody kneel - no, not like that.”

The trainer had to show them, and they had to hastily copy her. One knee on the ground, one foot on the ground, one elbow on a kneecap. For the first time in ages everything felt flashy and prismacolor to Fox. His heart was beating hot and heavy in his throat, and when he glanced sideways at his brothers he saw that they were all equally bursting from tension.

The kneeling pose felt weird and stupid. What was wrong with a good, old fashioned salute? Whatever. Natborns were weird, the Emperor was probably weird too.

“I’ll stand outside of the door. Cody, knock three times when you’re done.” The trainer stood over them, making sure they were in order. “You’re adults, I don’t need to tell you not to fuck this up. I’ll be outside.”

When she left the room felt emptier than before. They waited in silence for one second, two seconds. The kneeling was kind of uncomfortable but Fox figured that he’d get used to it. Were Jedi ever going to ask -

A figure flickered into life on the platform. It was large, life-sized. It was impossible to make out any distinguishing details - just a robe, a hood, and one aged hand. If there were any other details to find Fox missed them, staring intently at the hem of the robes. They were a little frayed. Could the future Emperor really not afford nicer robes? It had to be a stylistic choice.

The voice spoke. It was a new kind of voice, one Fox had never heard before. It made him feel…it made him feel…

“Ah. How good it is to finally meet my commanders.”

Whoah. So that was what this was all about. Bacara, Neyo, Bly, and Cody were slated for Marshal Commandership. The army was split between them. No wonder the Emperor wanted to talk with them before the war started.

“I feel great potential from each of you. An unmatched dedication. I believe our Empire is in good hands.” The Emperor was nicer than the trainers. Who knew. “Neyo, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Neyo looked up, eyes almost glowing in the blue light of the holo. “Yes, my lord. I am Cadet Neyo, of the future 382th Battalion and High Burst Corps. Future Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.” There was an infinitesimal pause, as he clearly struggled to remember if there was anything else important about him at all. “I am a servant of the Empire, my lord.”

“Naturally. I sense a great power from you, Neyo. A desire for vengeance and justice. You shall be a boon to the Empire.”

Fox’s mind was blank with surprise and tension, and he didn’t process the Emperor’s words until much later. Methodically eating lunch the next day, looking into the distance, Fox realized that the Emperor’s words were not true. Neyo did not care about justice for anybody, and didn’t understand that vengeance was an option. His revenge did not give him a drive or a direction - it just exploded out of him constantly, in fits and starts.

Neyo did not like hurting people, but he liked how it felt to hurt people. Maybe that was what the Emperor had meant.

Bacara introduced himself next (“Your fierceness will protect our Empire”), then Bly (“Your devotion to our ideals will be our Empire’s foundation”). By the time he got to Cody, kneeling next to Fox, Cody’s expression was hard and flinty.

“And you, Cody?”

“Cadet Cody of the future 212th Battalion, my lord.” Cody’s voice was intense, more intense than Fox had ever heard. “Future Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. I will serve our Empire and our army faithfully.”

The Emperor laughed for the first time. It sounded like a razor dragged across beskar. “You have a strong presence, Cody.” Silently, from their other three brothers: he didn’t say that about me! “Your conviction…and dedication. I’ve never felt such loyalty before. It is an honor to hold that loyalty. I sense great things from you, Cody.”

Cody’s face was lit a glowing light blue, reflecting off his eyes in a light sheen. His mouth twitched into a smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

Poor guy. He was not going to be popular with the other three now. Guess all that bootlicking finally paid off.

“Finally…Fox. Care to introduce yourself?”

He had drafted his response while Neyo was talking, and he delivered it as evenly as he could. “Cadet Fox of the future 101st Battalion. An honor to meet you, my lord.”

There wasn’t much to introduce. Fox wasn’t slated for Marshal Commandership. He would probably command a special ops battalion, along the lines of Wolffe or Ponds. He didn’t know why he was here, but he was trying not to think about it too hard. Either he’d find out later or it wasn’t important.

But the Emperor just tilted his head in what somehow felt like a smile. “Fox. How good for us to finally meet each other. How good for all of us to finally meet each other.” Fox tried not to be disappointed he didn’t get a compliment. Guess he spent all of them on Cody. That was fine. Just the usual, really. “You have all been patient - and for that, I thank you. Your patience will be rewarded. Very soon, the time for action will be upon us. I have full faith in my brave officers to fulfill their missions with perfection. The top clones among hundreds of thousands will not err, and I trust they will not fail. The clones are the only soldiers I can trust.”

The sensation in the room was rising - bubbling with tense excitement. Nobody in the room ever failed. Everybody in the room was perfect in every way. They knew they could do this and they were chomping at the bit to get a running start. The stakes had always been too high to fail - and now they had jumped even higher, into the stratosphere.

The Emperor said a few other words about serving the Jedi faithfully and whole-heartedly, with the same loyalty and devotion they will serve the Empire. You will work for the ones who rule the galaxy, isn’t that awesome, I personally think it’s great and you should too. Fox was not stupid enough to zone out.

The first time. He would soon hear this speech a hundred times, to a hundred different senators and powerful figures and Dark Siders that he hoped to flatter and sway. The clones must have been good practice - he could have said anything and they’d follow him to their deaths. After the third or fourth time, Fox would check out completely and go back to his mental dejarik game against himself. The Emperor knew and thought it was funny.

“My position and identity cannot be revealed at this time, and we must limit contact. You five will be the only points of contact between myself and the military. All orders will be passed down through you five. These orders supersede every superior and every other order. Do you understand?” He didn’t pause, but his hood tilted in what Fox knew was a smile. “What a good thing that we will be seeing each other again. For now, boys, you are all dismissed. I look forward to our long relationship.” He paused a beat, as the others anxiously glanced at each other to see who would stand up first. “Fox, please stay behind.”

Neyo stood up first, saluting crisply. “All hail the Empire.”

Bly followed him, saluting as Neyo knocked on the door three times. “All hail the Empire.”

“All hail the Empire,” Cody swore firmly, worshipfully.

As Cody left he looked backwards just once before the door slid shut again, expression indecipherable even to a batchmate.

Fox’s brain was now highly defensive static. His heart thumped heavily in his chest before he forced it to slow, kept his breath even and smooth.

“You may rise, Fox.”

Fox slowly stood upwards, knees stinging a little in relief. He held his hands behind his back at attention, facing the figure directly for the first time.

He didn’t seem any smaller than when he was kneeling. He seemed the same height, somehow, the same size: as if the Emperor was the same wherever you went, whoever you are - as if he would always be bigger than you.

“You’re wondering why you were included in this meeting.” It wasn’t a question. The Emperor’s voice had changed - a little less theatrical, a little more direct. A little flatter. Piercing and cold. “You are not due for any high command. No specialties. You must be confused.”

Fox opened his mouth, already wrangling with the difficult question - ‘I would not question you, my lord,’ seemed safe, let’s go with -

“Not really, my lord,” Fox said. “If I don’t know then it wasn’t important for me to know.”

Fox cut himself short, eyes widening. That was not what he meant to say. It had been exactly what he was thinking. How…?

“I would hardly be the Emperor if I had no tricks up my sleeve, Captain.” The Emperor’s head tilted, in a motion that Fox had yet to understand. “You have a fascinating mind, Fox. Most sentients have a mind like…to put it in terms you could understand, a crowded room. Cluttered and unorganized. Plenty to rifle through, and hardly anything of note. Simple to reach inside and pluck what is needed from within this room.

“A clone’s mind is quite organized. It’s refreshing. A well organized directory, with nothing hidden. Rifle through and take what you want - the door is always open, the files always labeled. Do you know what your mind resembles, Fox?”

He didn’t know the Emperor would get so esoteric. “No, my lord.”

The Emperor’s voice curved in a smile. “Your room is empty.”

Fox stared at him.

“Items enter, items leave. Sunlight streams in. But it is empty. What do you think of that, Fox?”

“I’m not good with metaphor, my lord,” Fox said truthfully.

The Emperor laughed hoarsely. “I like you clones. I find you all the ideal lifeform. If every sentient in the galaxy was like a clone, then I could truly rule in harmony. One day. But perhaps there would be no fun in that.” He looked back at Fox, who was trying to parse if that was a compliment before deciding that it didn’t matter. “I wanted to meet you before I made my final decision, but I see that I chose well. It will be you, Fox. The only being in this galaxy I can trust. How do you feel about becoming my right hand man?”

And, of course, Fox could not lie. “Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, my lord.”

And, of course, the Emperor laughed again. “I look forward to your service, Captain.”

All of that and just a captain? Damn.

The second Fox left his brothers mobbed him. They paid no attention to how little he wanted to deal with them right now - his head hurt a little, and his vision almost swam. Would the Emperor’s ‘tricks’ always give him a headache? If he was going to work with him so much then he hoped not. Maybe he should stock up on pain relief medication.

“What’d he want, what’d he want?” Bly cried. All four of them had obviously been loudly talking over each other, even if they were all staring at Fox now. “Come on, did he make you a Marshal Commander?”

“He made you special ops, right?” Neyo asked intently. “I really got the impression he wanted me to be special ops, you know. It was very evident.”

“Are you ‘fierce’?” Bacara demanded. “I bet he’s making me a marine!”

“Just tell me it’ll stop Cody bragging,” Bly grumbled. “Devoted my shebs.”

“It was an honor, that’s all,” Cody bragged. “Wherever Fox goes, I know he’ll be loyal.”

“I am going to dunk your head into a toilet.”

“You haven’t been able to do that since I was three, Bacara.”

“Guys, come on,” Bly pleaded, somehow smugly. “If we’re going to be the Emperor’s chosen points of contact we have to be mature now.”

“Yeah, Bacara,” Neyo sneered. “No toilets for you anymore. How will the cadets learn their place now?”

“You’re one to talk, I remember you and CT-3040 -”

“Oh, he was fine eventually -”

“He got hypothermia.”

“It’s not any worse than the Alphas did with us,” Neyo said defensively. “Remember when Alpha-20 -”

“Ugh.”

“So what about it, Fox?” Cody asked. “What’d he tell you?”

The group finally quieted, staring at Fox expectantly. He found himself falling quiet, thinking. The group, who knew Fox, continued waiting.

After a while, Cody said, “Fox. What did the Emperor say?”

Oh. Fox shook himself. Right. “He said I would…”

Everybody stared at him.

“We don’t have all damn day, Fox,” Bacara said.

“Leave off, he’s just like that -”

“Is he going to be like that on the field?”

“He’s never like that on the field!” Bly protested, before turning to Fox again. “Emperor. Say. What did he say?”

What did he say? What did Fox say? What didn’t he say? What didn’t Fox say?

For the first time, Fox reaped the benefits of the Emperor’s favor. “He told me not to tell you guys,” Fox said blandly. “Sorry.”

Bacara groaned, throwing up his hands. “So Fox gets Special Ops -”

“Aw, Special Ops?” Bly asked, crushed. “I’ll never see you again!”

“We don’t show preferences for assignments, Bly,” Cody said pointedly. “The Emperor put Fox where he’s supposed to be.”

“That’s easy to say for a Marshal Commander, Cody.”

“Still upset about the recon assignment, Neyo?”

“Clearly it’s good enough for the Emperor -”

“It’s ‘our lord Emperor’,” Fox said suddenly, and everybody else fell silent. “Or ‘our lord’. That’s what we’re supposed to say.”

Everybody blinked at him for a moment before Cody spoke. “Did he tell you that?”

Fox shrugged. Everybody interpreted this as a ‘yes’, instead of an ‘I guess?’.

Almost as if it was a competition, Cody was the first to say, “Our lord knows best. And Jango’s going to kill us if we waste any more time. Let’s get going. And we’re telling nobody - not even Wolffe, Fox.”

“What are you thinking about, Fox?” Bly asked cheerfully. He was always interested. He said that it was a nice bit of arbitrariness in his otherwise overly designed day.

“Filing directories.”

“Oh, really? That’s fun,” Bly said. “I’m terrible at organizing. I make Galle do all of it. Aayla’s not any better, so we’re trying to train Quinlan to enjoy it. It’s called behavioral conditioning.”

“That’s great,” Fox agreed. “Sorry. What were we talking about?”

Bly leaned back, relaxing pointedly and anxiously in his chair. The caff pot chugged behind him, struggling valiantly along in the eternal battle to make a damn cup of caff. He needed a new one. Maybe the same kind as the nice espresso machine in the break room.

“We were talking about Coruscant.”

im so glad the universal attitude is that fox deserves to kill palpatine. on that note. im sure u can see where this is going. how do u picture the fox-palpatine dynamic? like, is palpatine explicitly using him as a punching bag? is he swirling foxs brain like a latte? or is it just a weekly monologue session that fox remembers absolutely none of. The possibilities are endless and theyre all bad. btw lov all your sw opinions u never miss

On a narrative level, purely the most satisfying result. Intensely satisfying. If I saw it on screen I would punch the air and scream.

Fox and Palpatine? I have a bad habit of thinking about any evil mastermind villains absolutely last (people here from TMA can attest to this). I like Palpatine's villainy in TCW because it was almost never on screen - it was just in the sheer way that absolutely everything that happened was designed to make Anakin and Obi-Wan as miserable as physically possible. Just plot after plot of terrible things designed to specifically target their miseries. Fox's life is awful and it's entirely due to Palpatine. What's, like, a guy sitting on a chair and cackling next to that?

That being said, I feel like the Emperor doesn't give a shit about Fox. Probably likes the guy! He's very competent. Intelligent, but not too intelligent. Quiet. Doesn't have any motivations or ambitions outside of just doing what he says. Literally, the perfect minion. You ever have a new gadget that is just so convenient? Fox is the Apple Watch of evil.

The man literally never passes up the opportunity to monologue, but all of his evil monologues to Fox are really him talking to himself, and any questions he asks are slightly rhetorical. He makes enough digs at Fox that it makes him feel a little bad, but since Fox doesn't really remember them, it is genuinely a bit pointless. Everything he does to Fox is absolutely terrible for him physically, psychologically, and spiritually, but I do think it's absolutely incidental. It's like being a sadist to a computer. Sure, you could, but it's not that rewarding and there's very little point.

Fox barely registers or understands his own suffering. Fox has no concept of how bad his life is and he doesn't process most of the terrible things happening to him. There's no point in giving somebody (or something) like that a hard time.

Siths, obviously, do everything For The Evulz and just to be as unpleasant as physically possible at all times, suffering always a plus, all of that. But that evil can take lots of different forms, and there's many varieties of human suffering...when I use Palpatine metaphorically as fascism, then I like to use Fox to highlight the banality of institutionalized fascism. Fascism isn't a cackling supervillain or exclusively within dystopian dictatorships. Sometimes fascism looks like the White House, and it looks like the police station, and it looks like the stock market, and it looks like us. And fascism begins when you start treating people like things, and the greatest evil is when you start treating people like things. That's the notes I like to hit on for Fox & Palpatine - that the worst possible thing you can do to somebody isn't to torture them, but it's to take away who they are.

#my writing #actually this time #can't stress enough how insanely fun it is to write the clones: exactly the same! but super evil!#as a note since this isn't obvious and bacara and neyo are played as kinda jerks #this is also how i would write them in canon. it's military boot camp there absolutely has to be bullies lol #kamino bullying problems have to be absolutely insane.#final note: this is the first time I've ever said this #but Fox's personality is kinda based off me as a kid #and to a lesser degree today #i was quite the space cadet

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