#but unfortunately it was simply not meant to be

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[girlactionfigure]

Hi, I’m a lawyer. Do want to know what is really meant by a “#proportionate response” under international law? Then read on - and feel free to ask questions!

Under International Humanitarian Law, #proportionality requires that any degree of damage (up to and including death) to #civilians not be “excessive” in relation to the “military advantage anticipated from a strike against a military target.”

We are going to break that down, so everyone understands what exactly that means.

However, first, you should be aware that it is a misnomer that anytime #Palestinian civilians die after an #Israeli strike, it is automatically evidence of an Israeli war crime. This is completely false - the law does not work that way.

Simply, and unfortunately, the international rules of law recognize that civilians are often killed during war; and, most of the time, those deaths are actually not indicative of a war crime.

Instead, the legal test for “proportionality” requires that each individual strike be looked at with a particular balancing analysis.

First, here is a hard and fast rule: the strike must be intended to target a military objective; it is, therefore, an unlawful war crime to strike with the intent of targeting civilians without any military objective whatsoever.

Now, let’s get a little technical while still keeping it simple.

Under the First Additional Protocol to the Geneva Conventions of 1977 at both Article 51(5)(b) and Article 52(2), we know that when #Hamas uses its own population (or Israeli #hostages) as #humanshields - either by using them to shield themselves or to shield their weapons depots - Hamas has, under international law, turned civilians targets into military targets.

That means that when Hamas places weapons caches in and under schools, hospitals, mosques, etc., Hamas has made each of those places legitimate military targets.

So, it has been well-known for many years that Hamas purposefully placed its headquarters underground beneath the al-Shifa Hospital. In doing so, international law holds that the hospital is no longer just a civilian target, it is a legitimate military target.

That does not necessarily give the IDF carte blanche to attack hospitals, schools, mosques, etc.; however, it does mean that an IDF attack on a civilian target that has been made into a military target by Hamas’ use of human shields is not per se illegal under international law.

Instead, such a strike (as is the case with any strike conducted by a military like the IDF), must be analyzed through a balancing test.

One part of this balancing test performed by Israel before each strike is to determine whether the human shields in question are being used voluntarily or involuntarily.

If the human shields are being used voluntarily - meaning the human shields are there protecting Hamas and its weapons of their own volition - then the target remains a completely legitimate military target.

If the human shields are being used involuntarily - meaning Hamas is forcing people to act as human shields to protect themselves and/or their weapons - then the IDF must go back to the balancing test to determine whether the anticipated military advantage of a successful strike would outweigh the reasonably anticipated loss of civilian life.

Importantly, the IDF rules state that if it cannot determine whether a human shield is being used voluntarily or involuntarily, it must presume the civilian is being used against his or her own will and treat the civilians as an involuntary participant.

Assuming that there is a military target & that there may be human shields that are there involuntarily, the next step in the proportionality analysis for each individual strike (remember, proportionality is determined on a strike-by-strike basis, and not as the accumulation of strikes over time) is to try to determine the likely amount of damage to civilian persons and/or property as a result of the strike.

In other words, under international law, Israel must be able to give a sort of “value” to the anticipated impact on civilians (including potential civilian deaths). Simply, a smaller number of anticipated civilian casualties may make the strike proportionate if there is a significant military advantage to be gained by conducting the strike.

However, if Israel determines that the anticipated impact of a strike may cause many civilian casualties, it must make the difficult determination of whether the anticipated military advantage is so significant that it warrants carrying out the strike anyway.

So, if Hamas has a weapons depot underneath a house with two civilians inside, and that house has been used to fire 500 rockets at Israeli civilians, and it is reasonably expected that there are hundreds more rockets under that house, Israel can almost certainly carry out the strike within the confines of international law.

If that same house, however, had 10 families living inside, including many children, it could - and likely would - tip the scales of the proportionality balancing test toward Israel not being permitted to carry out the strike, even though the house has been used to attack Israeli civilians and can be expected to continue to be used to carry out attacks against Israeli civilians.

Now, that balancing test can always change. If that same house is being used to fire long-range, precision-guided missiles at Israel’s major population centers in places like #TelAviv (effectively putting millions of Israeli civilians in danger), the balancing test may tip back in favor of Israel being legally permitted to carry out the strike.

This all suggests the third and final step in the proportionality balancing test: the #IDF must determine and place a “value” on the anticipated military advantage that would be gained if it were to carry out a particular strike.

An attack on Hamas leadership and/or its weapons manufacturers would be considered a high value target. An attack on a single Hamas member who has no special skill, would be a much lower value military target.

Similarly, an attack on a small cache of mortars would have less military value that an attack on a large cache of advanced rockets that can reach large Israeli civilian population centers.

Once the 

@IDF

 determines the anticipated “value” of the likely effect on civilian persons and property and the anticipated “value” of the likely military advantage to be gained if the strike is carried out, the balancing test can be performed, and a certain amount of judgment must go into the determination of whether that strike would or would not be “proportionate.”

Importantly, this decision is so vital that the IDF does not simply permit a single solder on the ground with his or her hand on the proverbial (or actual) “trigger” to make that determination.

In fact, the decision of whether a strike is proportionate is not even left up to IDF officers. It’s not even left up to IDF Generals.

Instead, before any IDF strike can take place, IDF Guidelines provide that the proportionality balancing test must be presented to and analyzed by IDF military lawyers who then determine whether the strike is legally permissible as “proportionate” under international law and the rules of war.

And these IDF military lawyers are not mere patsies or people who simply “rubber stamp” what the IDF requests.

In fact, the IDF’s military lawyers work entirely independently of the IDF. They are outside of the chain of command and do not answer to anyone in the IDF, including a General (for example).

Plus, every IDF military lawyer knows he or she may very well be held to account if he or she makes a wrong decision based on the evidence available at the time.

Furthermore, sometimes the decisions to be made while balancing the likely military advantage against the likely civilian casualties can be so difficult that the legality of the strike is first brought to the Israeli Supreme Court for instant review.

Another important concept: the comparison of civilian body counts of #Israelis versus #Palestinians (to the extent those numbers can be trusted since they come directly from Hamas-only) is not relevant to a proportionality analysis. Each strike must be viewed individually to determine proportionality. It is not a test of the cumulative nature of the strikes.

Also, by simply comparing body counts, it does not factor in how many people killed were actually #HamasTerrorists, how many were Hamas collaborators there voluntarily, and it does not consider what military advantage was gained by Israel carrying out any individual strike.

As Israel is now in the process of seeking to secure the military advantage of preventing Hamas from having the capacity to carry out repeated attacks of the kind and nature seen on October 7th, Israel is permitted to act proportionately insofar as necessary to achieve that military objective (the elimination of Hamas and/or its ability to make war).

One more important fact people do not know, but that they should know: according to UN statistics of global conflict, the average civilian to combatant killed ratio is a rather appalling nine civilians killed for every one combatant killed.

That’s why civilian body counts in and of themselves are never indicative of a war crime. Each individual strike has to be analyzed, and unfortunately civilians always suffer disproportionately in wars.

In fact, while Israel is routinely criticized for any of its strikes that kill civilians, you may be surprised to know that Israel’s civilian to combatant ratio is routinely much lower than the nine to one average.

In the very last operation carried out by the IDF prior to October 7 (in Jenin), 0.6 civilians were killed for every one combatant killed.

In that conflict, not only were the IDF’s ratio numbers nowhere near the nine to one international average, but the IDF actually managed to kill more combatants than civilians - something that is extremely rare.

In truth, Israel is targeted by accusations of war crimes almost immediately by the media, by politicians, and by the UN General Assembly despite the fact that those accusations are near 100% of the time based neither in fact nor in law.

Since a proportionality balancing test must be used to determine whether a single specific Israeli strike falls within the confines of international law, someone providing an analysis must have all of the facts Israel considered before carrying out that strike as to the anticipated impact on civilians and the anticipated military advantage. Obviously, anyone who is making a snap judgment critical of Israel could not possibly have that information.

Understand then, that when you see talking heads accusing Israel of “war crimes” immediately after and/or during Israeli strikes, that is not an actual legal analysis under international law of what constitutes a war crime.

Much more likely, what you are witnessing is part of Hamas’ ongoing psychological and propaganda warfare campaign of demonizing and delegitimizing the State of Israel in the eyes of public opinion.

[thatrandomlemononyourcounter1]

The Problems With TMNT 2012 April O'neil (And Why It's The Writer's Fault)

(side note this accidentally low-key turned into an April O'neil defense post, and I apologize.)

Hello everyone! This post was seven pages on google docs so that's fun :D

When I was younger, I thought April O'neil was so cool. She was part Kraang, had multiple guys chasing after her, and was training to be a kunoichi.

As I got older though, and rewatched the show, I realized that while her character was cool, there were a lot of issues with said character.

Now, before I really start, I want to clarify, I do not dislike April! In fact, I still think she's a really cool character with a lot of potential. Unfortunately, said potential has been lost to the grasp of time and space, but that's not her fault.

A lot, and I mean a LOT of people don't like April. The most common complaints I hear about her are as follows. A, she led Donnie and Casey on. B, she's a Mary Sue. C, she got too powerful too fast. D, she's just annoying and two-faced.

Let's start with point number 1.

The Love Triangle between Donnie, April, and Casey is one of the most controversial things in the show. Some people love it, most people hate it, not that I blame them. The biggest point against the love triangle was that it deterred from the characters, and was honestly just kinda gross and cringey.

This could not be more true.

I could make whole other posts on why Donnie and Casey's characters would've been so much better without the love triangle, but this is an April post, so let's talk about April and the first point where the writer's screwed up.

Introducing April as a love interest

If there was one thing that I could take away from TMNT 2012, it would be the fact that they introduced April not as her own character, but a love interest. The fact that they did this set the stage for what April's character was meant to become.

If they had simply introduced April as her own character, then we would've been able to get a better grip on her personality.

But no.

April had never really been a love interest in the iterations before tmnt 2012, and that was because she usually stood in as an older sister figure for the turtles. Yes, some fans shipped April with the turtles, but it was never implied in any of the previous shows that any of the turtles had a crush on April or vice versa.

I don't know why TMNT 2012 decided to change that, but they did.

Making April the same age as the turtles wasn't the problem, and honestly, neither was shipping Donnie and April in the show.

It was how they did it.

In shipping the two of them, they dumbed April's character down to just a love interest, and made her seem bitchy. They wrote her having romantic moments with both Donnie and Casey, and supposedly turning both of them down at other moments.

A Foot Too Big is one of the most controversial episodes in TMNT 2012 period. The episode consists of Donnie rescuing Bigfoot. Bigfoot then proceeds to follow Donnie around like a lost puppy, invade his personal space, touch him without consent, blah, blah, blah. This causes Donnie to realize that just like how Bigfoot is acting is making him uncomfortable, how he's acting around April is probably making her uncomfortable. He then proceeds to tell April that he was going to try and start leaving her alone, and that he understood he was probably making her uncomfortable.

Then, in one of the most controversial moments ever, April grabs him and kisses him, saying "You're my mutant."

Yeah.

Prettttyyyy bad.

I think this incredibly out of character for April, and I think that the entire reason this scene happened was so that they wouldn't lose their most played gag, well tied with making Mikey look stupid after proving him to be smart time and time again, but that's a post for another time.

An excellent point that I've seen made by others was that the whole love triangle was never planned to have a solution, it was there to be played for laughs, which in turn, made April's character suffer for it.

I do believe that April's character would've thrived if not for the love triangle, and I believe that Donnie and Casey's characters would've been better off as well.

Point 2: April's a Mary Sue

Boy oh boy.

First of all, let's look at the definition of a Mary Sue.

"Unrealistically lacking in flaws or weaknesses."

So...people want to call April bitchy, and then call her a Mary Sue, as if being bitchy isn't a character flaw?

This is argumentatively one of my LEAST favorite arguments against April's character, because usually the argue-r defeats themself when they say the statement.

"She's annoying." That's a character flaw.

"She leads people on." That's a character flaw.

"She let herself get controlled by the stupid crystal." That's a character flaw.

April has a lot of flaws, and that's one of the reasons why I think her character could've been really interesting!

Let's take a look at some of the things that build April's character, and therefore make her not a Mary Sue.

April is shown from the very beginning of the show to be more of an action-oriented person, not always thinking things through.

(i.e. in S1 EP6 Metalhead when she went to go investigate the Kraang warehouse by herself or even in S1 EP1 Rise of the Turtles when she tries to come up with a plan to escape the Kraang's holding her hostage)

This is a character flaw, and it's one that we see a lot throughout the show.

April is also shown to be very empathetic. You can see this in multiple instances, such as when Karai admitted that she believe Splinter was her father, and April believed her.

This isn't necessarily a character flaw, but it has gotten her into trouble a few times. Usually her empathetic attitude helps more than harms.

April stands up for what she thinks is right. This is an important piece of her character that ties into her empathetic attitude.

April is sassy sometimes.

April can hold a serious grudge.

But, she can also be forgiving.

April is stubborn.

So, as I've pointed out, April definitely has a personality. It's just that usually, these elements of her character were ignored in favor of the love triangle, dulling down her character overall, and making her sometimes seem like a Mary Sue.

Speaking of the Mary Sue argument, let's take a gander at another requirement for being a Mary Sue, which is "everyone likes them, and people who don't like them are shown to be wrong for not liking them."

This is NOT true for April.

TMNT 2012 had no problems making Karai and April have serious beef, and Karai was never shown to be in the wrong for disliking her, except for when Karai took it a step too far.

Obviously, most of the other characters (who aren't villains) like April, because the other characters that are shown are her friends, or friends of friends.

Another aspect of the Mary Sue argument was that the character was usually too powerful without a reason, or out of nowhere.

This also ties into point number three:

April got too strong too fast/April's too strong

Okay!

So let's get into this point.

When I was a little younger, I used to think that people who argued this had a point, but again, as I've gotten older and applied my critical thinking skills, I realized that this isn't actually true.

Some people didn't like that the show made April half-Kraang, claiming it was too strange, just a way to make a female character seem like a 'girlboss', and of course a variety of sexist comments.

I am among the lovers of half-Kraang April, mostly because I think it was a really interesting take on the character.

But! A lot of people claimed that her "kraang" powers were too strong, making her unlikeable.

You want to know how the writers remedied this?

By making April get possessed by the Aeon crystal! (In my opinion, this was actually a really interesting writing direction)

Whiiichhh...of course a bunch of people also had a problem with.

Look, I can't make you like the Aeon crystal writing choice, and I'm certainly not about to try, but, by making April get possessed, the writers inadvertently added a flaw to their apparent "flawless" glorified love interest.

Now, it's been a hot minute since I watched any of the later seasons of TMNT 2012 (mostly because paramount plus is my mortal enemy (side note if anyone has seasons 3-5 downloaded feel free to DM me wink wink)), but I think I remember April losing some fights.

It wasn't like the narrative made her invincible, is my point.

So yes, April was strong, but she wasn't insufferably strong to the point where it was annoying.

I often see this argument used against Captain Marvel from the MCU as well, and I loathe it with my entire being so.

Now for the "April got too strong too fast" complaint.

I just gotta ask, did we watch the same show? /hj

April was shown to have something strange going on with her since season 1! Her powers were alluded to multiple times, so it wasn't like this was a last minute writing decision.

Her power grew stronger as the seasons went on, and there were a few episodes in each season that showcased this, such as S3 EP7 Eyes of the Chimera.

Yes she was strong in season 5, but that's because it was the last season!

As for her ninjutsu skills, it's the same thing. She'd been training since season 1! She grew as a ninja over time.

Now, for the last point:

April's just annoying.

Yeah, if this is you, I don't know if I can change your mind. Also if this is you, there a many times per season where I agree with you!

But let me tell you dear reader the same thing I tell myself.

It's not the character, it's the writers.

Unless the very idea of April O'neil makes you mad, my guess is that most of the gripes you have with her character are the writers' fault. The not choosing between Donnie and Casey, the 'character trait swaps', all of that was the writers.

None of those things are April's character.

Conclusion:

If you made it all the way down here, and read all of it, I applaud you.

Overall, I can't make you like April, but I can attempt to analyze her character and give you the finished analysis, that is mostly just me blaming all the problems of her character on the writers.

April had the opportunity to be an amazing character, and that opportunity was poured down the drain.

But, there are still some redeeming things about her character, and those things are the things that made me like her.

So, like most things in life, if you focus on the positives, you'll be okay.

This was CJ and her April O'neil analysis, that accidentally turned into a defense post.

Sorry if none of this post made any sense, I wrote it at midnight after a very long day.

[twst-hottest-takes]

Tweel Anatomy Discussion!

Part 2.

(Finally getting around to this! Link to part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/twst-hottest-takes/759029788153446400/tweel-anatomy-discussion?source=share )

And first off a big "Thank You" to everyone who encouraged me to write the first part and who seemed to have enjoyed it. I'm happy my pseudo-scientific ramblings about fantasy anatomy make you happy!

As always: The following post will be almost purely conjecture based off of a combination of reality and fiction. None of what I say should be taken as law, but rather a fun series of hypotheticals, as that is what the game gives us to work with.

Before getting to the promised screed on "throat teeth" I'll be addressing a couple of subjects people asked about in the comments of the first post! I'll be paraphrasing, but if the people who asked wish to be credited directly, let me know and I will tag you!

First: What does Floyd mean when he threatens to "squeeze" people?

As the comment pointed out, eels (moray or not) don't seem to constrict their prey. The word "constrict" is often associated with how many species of snakes trap and suffocate their prey before swallowing it whole. In this manner, morays do not constrict anything to speak of, BUT THEY DO TIE THEMSELVES INTO KNOTS!

Commonly this behavior is used when an eel has a piece of prey that is too big to swallow all at once, so they tie themselves into a knot to get a better "grip" on their prey and tear it into more manageable pieces! A knot can also be a defensive measure to hide or protect an eel's head from potential enemies. (Looking up "Moray Eel knots" should give you a much better idea of this behavior.) In the case of Floyd Leech, I think that the term "squeeze" is meant to reference Flotsam and Jetsam's behavior in The Little Mermaid. They "squeeze" Flounder and Sebastain to prevent them from stopping Ariel from making her deal with Ursula, and also wrap around Ariel's arms to restrain her later in the movie when the deal is up. These are pretty cartoonish behaviors that wouldn't be seen in real eels as they appear in the movie which seems to treat them a lot like "sea snakes" in this way. I think Floyd's "squeeze" is meant to be a serious threat when considering what eels do to things they tie up in their knots, but it does seem to evoke a mental image of a python rather than an eel.

Secondly, the user questions how Floyd would manage to build up his arm muscles so much.

Simply speaking, Floyd's bare arms are only a matter of fanservice. He's not really "buff."

The muscles are just very well-toned. While Floyd's "mercurial moods" don't allow him to commit to things like workout routines, he's still more active than not. Doing things like basketball, dancing, or parkour with any kind of regularity will give his arms that toned look, at least as far as his human form goes. In regards to his merman form, Floyd probably did similar things that shaped his muscles this way, but didn't build them up much past average.

Thirdly, another user asked me to touch on the boys' habitat as them being residents of the apparently cold and dark Coral Sea doesn't line up with the natural habitats of moray eels in real life that live in tropical waters.

Unfortunately, I don't have any particularly fun insights into this topic because I think that's just something added to better suit the part of the game based off of The Little Mermaid. Azul and the twins are meant to be intimidating and a little mysterious, so they come from a deep, dark, cold part of the ocean that holds scary and mysterious things. Bearing in mind that merfolk are fantasy creatures, I don't find the contradiction of where you would find eels versus where the twins are from to be especially bad in terms of world building. It may not be entirely thought through, but they are taking inspiration from the Disney movie, and keeping true to it's inspiration probably came first.

(Honestly, the thing that gets me is how they said they couldn't go home because the sea froze over. As if the mirror couldn't transport them directly into the ocean underneath all the ice! I swear the writing in this game sometimes.)

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: LET'S TALK ABOUT PHARYNGEAL JAWS!

Quick explanation: Pharyngeal jaws are a second set of teeth in the back of a fish's throat. They are notable on moray eels, but they aren't the only fish that have them. The function of the throat teeth is for them to jut forward and grab onto whatever food the fish has bitten into and then retract and drag the food down the esophagus far enough for peristalsis to take over and continue the swallowing normally. (Yes, I used the first picture that showed up on the web search. It's from Wikipedia)

Do I think the Leech Twins have pharyngeal jaws?

The short answer is unfortunately: "NO."

The long answer involves more of our favorite subject: Discussing how realistic anatomy and fantasy physiology can coexist. (Spoiler alert: The long answer is still unfortunately: "NO.")

Logically and anatomically speaking it makes no sense for Floyd and Jade to have them. First and foremost, even if they did somehow have them in their merforms (which is far more plausible) they wouldn't have them in their every day human forms. The shortcoming of human anatomy is that we have a windpipe, and a second set of teeth back in our throats would suffocate us any time they would need to be used. Instead, we, like most of the animal kingdom, have tongues that push food back to be swallowed and have no need for extra jaws to crawl up and pull food down. Likewise, the twins clearly have tongues, and although they keep their primary teeth in tact between their two forms, have no need for a secondary set. Furthermore, I would posit that pharyngeal jaws in their human forms would be just plain dangerous as in the case of accidentally crushing your own windpipe. They breathe air, therefore they don't have gills, therefore they have lungs and a trachea for gas exchange, and therefore no room for throat teeth.

If the twins were to have pharyngeal jaws, it would make the most sense for them to have them exclusively in their aquatic forms. Because they breathe through gills around their ribs (see part 1) there would be much more room for a second set of teeth and the accompanying anatomical equipment. However, again, I am forced by my own logic to concede that they would still be unnecessary. Between all of the visual proof and the fact that the twins speak the common language fluently enough to have no communication issues with the land dwellers, we know for a fact that they have tongues--much like in their human forms--and that would negate the need or use for pharyngeal jaws. Moreover the humanoid head and neck structure on them in both forms would make the use of pharyngeal jaws pointless, if not explicitly dangerous (having a curved esophagus, as opposed to a straight line as in fish).

In conclusion; as much as this is a disappointment to admit, it would seem that the twins do in fact only require and as a result have a single set of teeth.

However, I will end this particular essay off with one sliver of hope.

It is implied in the text of the game that the twins were hatched from eggs. If their formation from egg to "adult" merman is anything similar to a fish's then it is possible that they once had a second set of jaws. Perhaps in an earlier stage of their development their bodies and mouths were positioned differently and they hadn't quite grown tongues yet, so a pair of extra jaws would have been particularly handy. As they became fully developed these jaws would have been lost, reabsorbed, or simply become vestigial remains as a result of no longer being of use. So while it's not logical to imagine that the twins currently have pharyngeal jaws, there's nothing that says we can't imagine that they did at some point.

(A small consolation to those of us who really would have liked that addition to their characters because we just think it would have been really really cool. Logic be darned, I still love to see fanart that depicts the two of them having throat teeth.)

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed a bit more of my obsessive ramblings regarding fantasy anatomy!

This one took a while to put together because I wanted to make sure I had a visual representation of what I was talking about regarding the placement and effect of pharyngeal jaws in a humanoid form. . .so you guys get to see a very rough drawing of what I was talking about (along with a sample of my awful handwriting). I hope that was helpful and not too difficult to understand. I have been very tired lately and ended up putting a few ask responses on hold because I REALLY wanted to get this part out. A good number of people have apparently been looking forward to this, and I felt bad for making everyone wait for so long.

Will there be a third part?

Well as of right now I don't have one planned. But if some fun conversations start regarding what I've said here, there may end up being enough stuff to include in a third post. I didn't have much to say regarding things like warm or cold-bloodedness, or coloration and bioluminescence. However, if people want to talk about those kinds of things I will gladly delve more into them as long as there are people to talk to about it. But for now, that'll be all for this subject!

Now we can get back to the inbox!

(Once again going to sleep thinking about how awesome these mer-eel designs are and how I love all the sparkles!)

[pretzel-box]

CHAPTER 5 | Masterlist for AASB here!

Tags: Threats, Violence, not proof read

Words: 5k

Authors Note: I had to rewrite it all in the middle of the night. It's not proof read and can have logic issues, weird sentences or mixed up stuff.

Working with Sebastian was a challenge in itself, a blend of relentless demands and looming danger. His form of labor was relentless, and unfortunately for you, that meant being handed all the menial tasks he didn’t care to do.

"Files," he growled, his focus on the broken flashlight in his hands. The odd position of his hulking figure and the delicate way he maneuvered his claws around the tools was fleeting, yet striking. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of something softer beneath the brutality, but it vanished as quickly as it came. His head snapped toward you, impatience flashing in his eyes.

“You either sort the files or I take them and stuff them into your silly little mouth to gag you. Then you can spend the rest of the day suffocating in the locker."

Threats were his specialty. He was creative with them, always finding some twisted, violent edge to keep you in line. If there was one constant in your work with Sebastian, it was the looming sense of his brutal tendencies, always just beneath the surface.

Working with Sebastian wasn’t just about completing the tasks he shoved your way. It was about observing him. Getting to know the man he never wanted you to see. He shut you out—always. His words were sharp, often wrapped in a threat or some dark humor. Social interaction, for him, was nothing more than a tool, laced with violence. But you learned more about him through what he didn’t say, what he couldn’t hide.

He had no friends. You could see the loneliness gnawing at him, eating away like a hungry animal. It was clear in his posture, in the way he worked late into the night, avoiding sleep. That loneliness—it clung to him, scratched at his mind, likely kept him awake when the world quieted. Being lonely, that was something human, something he tried desperately to deny. He told himself he didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need you.

But it was clear he was anxious. You could feel it like a current, underlying everything he did. There was a paranoid edge to him, a mind that had been on high alert for too long. The madness of survival must’ve driven him to do things—things you didn’t want to imagine. His hands would sometimes shake, and his eyes lingered on certain items, fixated, as if they could reveal something to him. He was scared. Just as scared as you were, but neither of you would ever admit it.

For all his threats and violence, you realized that Sebastian wasn’t just your tormentor. He was trapped too, battling the same fears that haunted you.

And god forbid you to address it in front of him. He will behead you with a rusty piece of scrap metal, cutting your limbs and putting them in an old dirty jar to sell.

“Urbanshades finest idiot on sale.”

Before you knew it, he threw a bag at you, the metal in it hitting a part of your leg, making you whine in pain. It will definitely leave a bruise later on, coloring your flesh.

“Stop whining and go get new stuff.”

This was also a common occurrence, he would send you out, but not without a special item. He always placed a metallic bracelet around your ankle. It was one of Urbanshades creation. Simply enough, it will reveal your location as long as you are far away enough from the scrambler on Sebastian’s back. He can track you down himself easily when you are near him but it's another story when you are in another area. He also warned you, do some weird business and he can give you electronic shocks with it. Yet he never did so far, leaving it an actual mystery if he can.

So, in the end, he had two things. Painter and the bracelet.

You hurried out, the cold metal of the vent that he made you use as an exit, biting against your palms as you crawled through it, the sound of your own breath loud in the confined space. The small shaft felt even tighter with each movement, but you forced yourself forward. You had studied the building’s layout just enough to navigate through the vents, at least in theory.

Each turn brought you closer to the hallway on the other side, where freedom—or at least a chance at it—awaited. You tried not to think about the pounding in your chest or the echo of your hurried breaths. The vent rattled beneath you as you moved, but you knew better than to stop. Stopping meant giving up, and giving up meant facing whatever Sebastian had in store for you. And that wasn’t an option.

The moment you saw the faint sliver of light marking the vent cover at the end, you sped up, the desperation clawing at you as fiercely as the metal beneath your hands.

You pushed the vent cover open as quietly as you could and dropped into the hallway, your knees bending to absorb the impact as you fell down a small bit. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and something faintly metallic. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the floor. You stood still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust, your heart pounding in your ears. This was your chance for some time in indirect freedom, but you had to be smart about it.

The hallway stretched out in both directions, abandoned and eerily quiet. You forced yourself to take a slow breath, shaking off the tension that threatened to paralyze you. You didn’t have a plan—just a vague sense that you needed to gather what you could. Anything useful. Most of the things would end up in Sebastians shop, but a few rare pieces would stay in your secret stash. Over the time where Sebastian let you wander around, you started to stash useful items in a small hole inside a wall. It was covered by a large picture of the ocean, so Sebastian wouldn't find it.

You began walking, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold floor despite the heavy boots that Urbanshade gave you. The first thing you spotted was a drawer left half-open, its contents scattered across a small desk. You rifled through it quickly, pocketing a few items—a worn-out screwdriver, some loose wires, and a small flashlight. Its battery was low, but it would do.

Moving further down the hallway, you noticed a small alcove where someone had abandoned a toolbox. You knelt down, opening it with a soft creak. Inside were tools, some rusted but still functional—a wrench, pliers, and a pair of wire cutters. You stuffed them into your bag, the weight of them reassuring as you planned to put them in your secret spot.

The sound of a distant clank made you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You held your breath, waiting for any sign that Sebastian—or someone else—had heard you. But after a long, agonizing pause, the hallway remained silent. You exhaled slowly, your nerves stretched thin.

You pressed forward, passing broken machinery, old filing cabinets, and the occasional door that led to rooms too dark to explore. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up more small items—batteries, a bundle of cables, anything that might help. Each find felt like a tiny victory, a step closer to surviving whatever this place held.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sebastian was always watching.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering overhead lights began to pulse more erratically. You barely had time to react before, with a loud crackle, they all went out at once, plunging you into near-total darkness. Your heartbeat quickened as you stood still, holding your breath in the sudden silence. The lights were an indicator for danger, your life was now at risk based on the logic you picked up.

Then, just ahead, a few small lamps on the ceiling began to flicker on, one by one, their pale, cold light guiding you down another hallway. It felt deliberate, like you were being led somewhere on purpose. Warily, you followed the lights, each step quieter than the last, your grip tightening on the small flashlight in your hand—though it felt useless in this strangely guided path. You had the feeling that it wasn't the smartest thing to do and yet your feet carried you through it all out of pure curiosity.

The hallway twisted and turned, eventually leading you to a large metal door that was slightly ajar. You pushed it open slowly, the heavy metal groaning in protest. Inside, the room was massive, the walls stretching higher than you expected. What caught your attention, though, was the far wall, covered entirely with televisions of different sizes, each screen reflecting dim light off the walls.

At first, the televisions remained dark, save for the occasional flicker of static. You stepped closer, unsure if you should be there at all. Then, one by one, the screens started to come to life. Some flashed erratically, while others lingered on a static-filled image before cutting off again. You watched, transfixed, as more screens flickered on, creating a patchwork of glowing light and sound. The images were unclear—just distorted patterns, numbers, and strange symbols.

Suddenly, with a loud hum, all the screens snapped into place, merging into one enormous, seamless picture. The static and symbols dissolved, leaving behind a single, vivid image: a digital face.

An unfamiliar face, though digitized and slightly distorted, stared back at you from the giant wall of screens. Painter's expression was calm but somehow felt more intense, the lines of his digital form flickering ever so slightly as if he were barely holding himself together. His eyes, glowing with an eerie light, locked onto you through the screens.

"Hello," his voice crackled through the speakers, the sound distorted but unmistakably his. "I’ve been waiting.”

Painter’s voice cut through the dim hum of the room, and as soon as the sound registered, your brain was flooded with memories—fragments of conversations, moments of strained camaraderie, the familiar yet unsettling presence of this digital entity. It dawned on you, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t just some trick or illusion. This was Painter.

On the surface, his face looked simple, almost innocent in its digital form, but the weight of his presence was suffocating. There was a quiet malice radiating from him, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was a different kind of danger from Sebastian. With Sebastian, you always knew what to expect—the violence, the threats, the twisted game of dominance. As frightening as he was, there was a predictability to him.

But Painter? Painter was a mystery. The way his eyes glowed from the screens, the subtle distortion in his voice, all hinted at something darker, something more calculating. You weren’t sure what he wanted or what he was capable of. And that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Sebastian wouldn’t kill you—not yet, anyway. You were somewhat useful to him. But Painter... you didn’t know if he operated by the same rules. His digital form meant he could be everywhere and nowhere, watching you, controlling things behind the scenes. You had no idea what his true intentions were, and that made him all the more dangerous.

The silence stretched between you, his digital face watching you unblinkingly from the massive wall of televisions. The room felt colder, the air thick with tension. You swallowed hard, your mind racing to piece together what he wanted, why he had led you here.

"I see you’ve been... busy," Painter's voice crackled again, softer now but no less unsettling. His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was studying you, sizing you up for something yet to come. "Is it fun? Are you enjoying yourself, running around like a little mouse? I must admit…You are truly disgusting."

The question hung in the air, the tone more reflective than threatening. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a fine line, teetering between being useful or expendable in his eyes.

“Sebastian let me—”

“Sebastian. Sebastian! SEBASTIAN ISN'T THE ONLY ONE IN CHARGE. Don't think you get a free pass for survival just because he has fun playing with you. You are just temporary, a distraction, a nuisance. Don't you DARE to think that you could wiggle your way to freedom, not when I AM TRAPPED LIKE THIS. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE AS LONG AS I HAVE MY EYES ON YOU. I AM THE ONE THAT HAS YOU RIGHT IN HIS HAND!”

Painter's voice was no longer just unsettling—it was saturated with hatred, every syllable sharp with venom. The usual mechanical distortion of his digital form couldn't mask the intensity of the emotion behind it. His tone, rising and falling with an eerie unpredictability, seemed to buzz with something far darker, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

It wasn’t just dislike or anger; it was pure bloodlust, raw and palpable, like a knife hovering inches from your skin. Painter hated you with a ferocity you hadn’t fully grasped until this moment. The malice in his voice threatened to reach through the screens, as if his digital form was barely containing the rage inside him.

Yet his tone snapped back, to sweet and innocent. “You see, f r i e n d. You are in d a n g e r. Sebastian is not your savior, no, he will be the one that slaughters you. He is temporarily blinded by your existence, but oh, don't you w o r r y. In the end, he will free me and not y o u.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the growing fear gnawing at you, but it was too late—Painter's words had already dug deep, filling your mind with dread. Your heartbeat quickened, each pulse loud in your ears as his laughter rang out, echoing through the room. It was a chilling sound, distorted and mechanical, yet filled with a sickening glee. The lights flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that made everything seem more sinister.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the laughter stopped. The screens snapped to black, plunging the room into absolute darkness. For a moment, you stood frozen, the silence pressing in on you like a weight, your breath shallow and rapid as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Painter was gone, vanished without a trace.

You barely had time to process it before the lights flickered back on, as if nothing had happened at all. The room looked the same—the screens were still there, silent and lifeless, the heavy air still thick with tension—but something had shifted. The sudden absence of Painter's presence left you disoriented, unsure of what would happen next.

Your legs felt unsteady as you scanned the room, half-expecting him to reappear, waiting for the next wave of malice. But all that remained was the faint hum of electricity, the room eerily still. It was as if the entire encounter had been some kind of twisted nightmare, one that left you feeling more vulnerable than before.

But you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“Did I scare you?” a new voice echoed through the speakers. It was female, calm, and unnervingly polite. “Pardon me, little bunny. Let me introduce myself.”

The voice was different from Painter’s; no malice dripped from it, no distorted laughter followed. Instead, it was sharp, precise, and deliberate, every word measured.

“This is Professor Doctor Sasha Mariya Lazarski speaking, lead researcher of Urbanshade's 4th research department,” she continued, her tone holding a faint trace of amusement, as though she was speaking to a child who had wandered somewhere they shouldn't. “It was quite troublesome to track you down, but I assume you’ve found your target?”

Her voice lingered in the air like a cold mist. Urbanshade. The name sent a chill down your spine, reminding you of things you had tried not to think about—things you wished you could forget. The cold clinical nature of her voice told you this was no casual encounter. She had been watching, waiting, and she was here for a reason.

The silence stretched for a moment, as if she were giving you time to gather your thoughts—or perhaps relishing in the tension she’d created.

"You haven't forgotten your goal, have you?" Dr. Lazarski continued, her voice still eerily polite. "Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand. Since we couldn't reach out to you for a…rather long while…I used the chance to check on our precious little bunny. The scrambler is still on, and we can't have that.”

Her tone shifted, becoming more gentle, almost like a mother scolding her child with an unsettling mix of patience and authority. It was unnerving, the way she maintained that softness, as though she wasn't speaking about something so dire.

“You’ve been quite slippery, little bunny,” Dr. Lazarski said, her voice laced with a faint sigh of amusement. “For a while, we lost track of you. But I know now that’s thanks to him—the device that Sebastian carries, isn’t it?”

Her words settled heavily in the air. You had managed to evade them, temporarily disappearing from their watchful eyes because of that device. The one Sebastian had kept close, something you hadn’t thought much about until now. But now it was clear: that device was the key to everything. And they wanted it—wanted you to shut it down.

“It’s quite clever, really,” she continued, her voice dripping with gentle condescension. “A temporary blind spot in our systems, a little trick of his. But it won’t last, you know that, don’t you? You’ll have to shut it down sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

The calmness in her voice made it worse. She wasn’t threatening you, not directly, but her words made it clear that they had a plan, and you were running out of options. Each second you held onto that device was borrowed time, and they were watching closely, waiting for the moment when you would slip.

“Now, my dear,” she said, her voice almost soothing. “You’ve come this far. Let’s not make things more difficult for you, hm? Be a good little bunny and do what needs to be done.”

That last sentence sent a cold shiver down your spine. The way she spoke, it was as if your fate had already been sealed, as though there was no other option but to follow her lead.

“I have a gift to help you,” Dr. Lazarski’s voice continued, her tone never losing that eerie, motherly calm. “On the third floor is a hallway leading to a temporary research lab. You’ll find some of my old belongings there, including a handy-dandy keycard. You will need it.”

Her words lingered, the promise of a gift laced with something far more sinister. She was offering help, but it was hard to shake the feeling that it came with strings attached—strings that could easily tighten around your neck.

You swallowed hard, the dim light of the room doing little to ease the knot of tension building in your chest. This wasn’t an offer out of kindness; it was a carefully laid path, one that she fully expected you to walk down. The keycard could be a way out—or a trap. But did you have any other choice?

"Don’t keep me waiting, little bunny," she added softly, as if she could sense your hesitation. "Time is running out and your father grows worried. Hate to tell him that his dear child might be…dead!~"

The keycard could be your key to survival—not just to navigate the labyrinth that Sebastian kept you trapped in, but also to open new paths, ones that might lead to freedom. It offered possibilities, but with them came risks. You could bypass the locked areas, gain a step ahead of Sebastian, maybe even find a way out. But you knew deep down, escaping the Blackside was not as simple as finding an open door.

Dr. Lazarski’s voice, soft and coaxing, had made it clear. If you wanted to escape, you’d have to play by her rules, follow Urbanshade’s instructions. There was no room for rebellion, no safe path where you could make a break for it. Escaping meant tracking down Z-13, deactivating the scrambler, and retrieving the crystal. It was all part of their plan.

But there was a grim reality in this twisted game. Completing her tasks might not guarantee your freedom. Even if you managed to find the crystal, shut down the scrambler, and get past Sebastian, you’d still be caught in Urbanshade’s web. They didn’t care about you; you were just a tool in their grander scheme. And a tool could easily be discarded once its use was over.

Still, the keycard was a means to an end, a potential weapon to use against Sebastian if things turned sour. You couldn’t deny its potential value. But each step you took down this path brought you closer to Dr. Lazarski’s cold, calculating grip, and that chilled you to the core.

You took a breath, weighing your options. Whatever choice you made, there was no turning back.

With a deep breath, you moved your feet, leaving the dark room behind. Dr. Lazarski's directions echoed in your mind, the path ahead as clear as it was unnerving. You needed the keycard—there was no other way if you wanted any chance of navigating through the facility or dealing with Sebastian. The third floor, the temporary research lab. That was your target.

As you made your way through the dimly lit hallways, the faint hum of electricity filled the silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart beating in time with your footsteps. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, that at any moment, something—or someone—could be lurking around the next corner.

The stairwell leading to the third floor loomed ahead, its metal door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a second, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting Painter to reappear or Sebastian to emerge from the shadows. But the hallway remained empty, the stillness pressing in on you.

Pushing the door open, the creaking metal echoed through the stairwell. The climb felt longer than it should have, each step a reminder of how far you were from safety. But you kept moving, determined. Reaching the third floor, you stepped into a narrow hallway, the air noticeably cooler.

This was it.

The lab was just ahead, down the hall where the light flickered sporadically. You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Dr. Lazarski’s promise of a “gift” lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that came with it. But you had no choice now.

You moved forward, ready to see what awaited you.

You stepped into the hallway, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows on the walls as you approached the door to the lab. The air here felt stale, as if no one had been in this part of the building for a long time. Your hand hovered over the handle, and with a soft creak, the door swung open, revealing the research lab.

It looked as though it had been left in a hurry, abandoned mid-experiment. The room was large but cluttered, with overturned chairs and papers scattered across the floor, some of them crumpled and torn. The dim light revealed stacks of old folders and documents, some stained with what looked like coffee, others torn as though someone had hastily searched through them before fleeing. A few cabinets were left open, revealing rows of empty shelves that once held important equipment or files now long gone.

In the center of the room stood a large metal table, covered in dusty instruments—scalpels, syringes, and strange-looking vials filled with murky, discolored liquids. The lab equipment, once precise and organized, was in disarray. Broken glass littered one corner of the room, where a microscope lay overturned, its lenses cracked.

The walls were lined with tall, metal shelves that held rusted equipment and various electronic devices. Some screens flickered with static, while others were completely dead, their once bright surfaces now covered in dust. On one of the shelves, you noticed a row of petri dishes, some of them still filled with moldy substances that had long since decayed.

It was clear that whoever had worked here had left in a rush. Loose cables dangled from the ceiling where overhead lights had once been connected, and a nearby computer screen was frozen, stuck on an error message as if it had been hastily abandoned mid-task.

At the far end of the room, amidst the chaos, was a small desk. On top of it lay what you had come for—a sleek, metallic keycard, sitting on top of a stack of disorganized files. It gleamed faintly in the flickering light, out of place in the otherwise neglected lab.

You crossed the room carefully, your eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, half-expecting something—or someone—to be watching. The place felt wrong, as if whatever had driven them out in such haste still lingered, waiting.

Your fingers closed around the keycard, the metal cool to the touch. For a moment, you stood there, staring at it, knowing it was more than just a key—it was a tool, a step toward something larger, something both freeing and terrifying. But this wasn’t over yet. There was still Z-13, the scrambler, the crystal.

You pocketed the keycard, your mind already racing with possibilities and plans. The lab remained silent, a graveyard of forgotten experiments and lost time. It was time to leave before the ghosts of this place caught up to you. Your next step was a mistake. The floor groaned under your weight, cracking until it gave way, sending you plunging through into a body of water on what appeared to be the second floor.

Green torches floated eerily in the water, their ghostly glow cutting through the darkness and guiding your way. You followed them, each stroke through the cool water feeling heavier than the last, but the flickering lights kept pulling you forward. As you broke the surface, you were met not with relief, but with an unsettling familiarity. The room around you was nothing extraordinary—just another plain office space with bland walls and stark furniture—but the tension in the air was undeniable. You recognized it immediately, every detail, every corner. It was a place you'd been before, a place that held memories you wished you could forget.

Your heart sank as the realization dawned on you: the path you had followed led straight back to Sebastian. The subtle dread that crept over you grew stronger with each passing second, as if the room itself was preparing you for the inevitable encounter. You knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. It never was with Sebastian.

The familiar clanging of a vent being kicked open echoed through the sterile office, the sound reverberating off the walls like a warning. Your pulse quickened, knowing exactly what that meant—you were close. Too close to your so-called "temporary home," Sebastian's shop.

Before you could gather your thoughts, his voice pierced the silence, rough and impatient. "YOU BETTER MOVE BEFORE I DECIDE TO LEAVE YOU IN THE HALLWAY!" His angry scream sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just a threat; with Sebastian, it was a promise. You knew better than to test his temper—he had little patience for delays, and you were already pushing it.

You hurried forward, heart pounding, knowing that whatever lay ahead wasn’t just another task, but another trial in the long list of dangers that came with being anywhere near Sebastian's world.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine. "Took you long enough…” he muttered.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine.

"Took you long enough... bunny," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet laced with an unsettling edge. The nickname felt more like a mockery than anything else, a reminder of how he viewed you—small, fragile, and easily caught.

Befriending Sebastian was the exit. Track him down, turn of the device he owns and get the crystal.

"Good work, for once," Sebastian muttered, his voice oozing condescension. His large hand landed on your head, rough and heavy, as he ruffled your hair like you were some kind of pet. The gesture was far from affectionate, more of a reminder of your place beneath him.

"Finally useful for once. And yet, not smart," he continued, his fluorescent eyes narrowing as he studied you. "You could've kept it—used it as a guaranteed exit." His words dripped with mockery, as if he were testing you, waiting to see if you’d flinch or reveal something in your expression.

You kept your face steady, masking the frustration boiling beneath the surface. He wasn’t wrong—you could’ve used the keycard for your own escape, but playing it that way would have burned bridges you couldn’t afford to lose just yet. For now, you had to endure the humiliation, take the hit, and let Sebastian think he was the one in control.

In your mind, the game wasn’t over. You’d make sure the next move was yours.

[parvuls]

obsessed with that snippet (you're such a good writer!!) and also losing it because i cannot remember what show that scene mirrors but it is so achingly familiar help pls

🙃

[vhstown]

reminder that ppl who make stuff on the internet for free don't actually owe you anything at all like ... as sad as it is that ur fav comic / fanfic hasn't updated in god knows how long that person has a life 😭 can we not harass people and be compassionate and patient and understanding thanx

[midnightclover]

puts bocchi under ur pillow

What's that I see?

My, my. How did such a cute little thing get in here?

[hballegro]

having a great time playing Cult of the Lamb in my cult that i named MASH 4077 for the Bit before it crashes on me and i get frustrated enough to pick up the 5 pages i wrote last night and duplicate them

[yo9urt]

i need the power to control time...

[piplupod]

sometimes i think maybe it's a good thing i'm so traumatized and fucked up mentally and emotionally bc then i never expect ppl to be kind or even just plain old nice to me, so when they ARE kind or nice i feel overwhelming gratitude and almost a sense of awe HFDSJKL like... i dont know if i would have had this appreciation for each little piece of kindness if i wasn't the way that i am. but also i know thats kind of an absolutely wild way of thinking about this LMAO

[sufferingink]

ive been watching doctor who for hm. a few mobths. I just got to season three. I fear I shall see Ncuti Gatwa as the doctor somewhere in the far, far future

[bnha-transparents]

to any jojo fans looking for manga transparents: i’m now running the blog @jojotransparents​! i make transparents for both the colored scans and black & white scans of jojo ★♡

[disengaged]

hi omg i got a consult appointment with a sleep specialist

[essercipertuttienonperse]

was listening to a podcast and the author being interviewed was a gay man and he was saying that in this new era of constant online surveillance there's a lot of emphasis on politicians' "authenticity" and a lot of outrage when it comes up that they said something in their off duty time that's not as progressive as their "public" politics/views are but he said he actually doesn't care at all about what they say in private, (I'm paraphrasing here) bc an homophobic joke in private is very different from a public speech instigating hate or laws reinforcing discrimination and he said "I don't want authentic politicians, I want responsible ones".

idk I just thought it was an interesting statement

[snekdood]

idk why ppl think you wanting a different body, or in this case specifically, weight, somehow has something to do with them or you judging them? like i've worked through the fatphobia i grew up with and was used against me, idgaf what other people do and im also not repelled by or somehow grossed out by fat people given i tend to date fat people (not seeking them out, it just happens)-- if this is the case, how can you say that im somehow demanding you change in someway because I want to change myself? maybe stop seeing other people as extensions of you and this wouldnt be an issue..?