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… i admit it. I danced. src
the OG (and if you don’t get it)
Brotherly Love: Wakking Off (Part two of seven)
I have this theory that the Warner siblings are Set animals (like from ancient Egyptian lore), so the rules of mere mortals don't apply to them. One of Set's many domains is disorder and chaos, so I think it checks out.
Now watch teen!me write two of them acting like King Tutankhamun's parents.
Part one is here.
DEAD GOODFEATHERS DO NOT EAT
Content Warning: Consensual romantic relationship between two siblings; aged-up characters; questionable knowledge of psychology; godsawful usage of mid-noughties slang; big emotions, including: *extremely Gonzo voice* GUILT and *extremely Septa Unella voice* SHAME SHAME SHAME (ding ding); just two bros taking a bath together, sniffing each other's fur, tongues and tails twining whatevs
-O-o-O-o-O-
Yakko had been writing in his journal for three days.
It wasn’t working.
He figured he’d try Scratchy’s suggestion. It was only a start, Scratchy had said, but it might actually be enough to quell the incestuous thoughts Yakko had.
But the more Yakko wrote, the stronger the feelings grew. It got to the point where many of his entries were accompanied by a few diagrams of what exactly he wanted to do to his brother.
He also had to worry about hiding it. He had it hidden under his mattress, but what if they decided to make a mattress fort and it fell open as they moved the mattress? Every page included either a horrifyingly graphic description or a picture, so there was no way they’d miss it.
It got to the point where Yakko decided he just needed to maybe avoid Wakko for a while.
For the next three or four days, Yakko kept his distance. If Wakko entered the room, he left. He sat as far away from Wakko as he could at meal times. When the time came for them to take a bath, Yakko suggested they take separate ones. Wakko looked like he’d cry and it tore Yakko up inside.
The following night, Dot announced, “I’m going to the mall with Hello Nurse!”
Yakko’s heart skipped a beat. He’d be all alone. With his brother.
“The mall?” he asked.
“Yes, the mall. You know, with the stores, the food court, the pushy salespeople trying to unload their soon-to-be-outdated cell phones?” Dot said.
“Aaaah…Are you sure you want to go to the mall?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Really sure?”
“Positive.”
“Shiggity-sure?”
Dot stared Yakko dead in the eye and said, “Not only am I sure, I am shiggity-sure for shizzo my nizzo.” Then she left before Yakko could ask any more questions.
Yakko sighed. He was all alone. With Wakko.
Or not. He didn’t see Wakko around. Where was he?
Yakko looked all over the water tower. When he got to the bedroom, he found Wakko, sitting on his bunk.
“Wakko, what are you doing in here?” Yakko started to ask, until his brother turned around.
Wakko was crying.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Wakko asked in a small voice.
“What made you think that?” Yakko asked, sitting down on the bunk.
“You always leave when I come in. You won’t sit next to me. You didn’t want to take a bath with me.” Wakko sniffed.
Yakko winced. He didn’t think that Wakko would notice his avoidance. Wakko did, however, notice the wince.
“I knew it. You were avoiding me.” He turned away from Yakko.
Yakko mentally scolded himself. He was always forgetting how sensitive Wakko was. He should have thought that what he was doing would hurt his feelings. He also never realized how much he underestimated his little brother. He should’ve known he’d figure something was up.
“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to be mean to you,” Yakko said, gently putting a hand on Wakko’s shoulder.
“Why else would you do it, then?” Wakko still refused to face him.
“Because….well….I don’t know if I should tell you….”
“What? You don’t think I’ll understand? You think I’m stupid, don’t you.” Wakko attempted to jerk himself away again, but Yakko held him still.
“No, it’s just a really weird reason,” Yakko tried to explain.
“Try me.”
“It’s because I love you.”
Wakko stared at Yakko, confused.
“Not just that kind of love. I mean, I love you. I want to kiss you, and make out with you, and lots of other terribly graphic things that I’ve written down in a little book that I keep hidden under my mattress.” Yakko exhaled, waiting for the inevitable scream.
Only, it never came. Yakko looked at his little brother. The confused look was gone, replaced by a stolid expression.
Suddenly, Wakko took Yakko’s face in his hands and brought it closer to his own, until he began to kiss him.
It wasn’t like one of those kisses they did to their “special friends,” either. It was a bona fide on-the-lips kiss. It turned into more when Yakko realized there were two tongues in his mouth and only one of them was his. Until now, it had never occurred to Yakko that Wakko could do a whole lot more with his tongue than use it as a tape measure and let it dangle out of his mouth.
When it was over, Yakko barely heard Wakko ask, “Did you like it?”
“Holy….” was all Yakko could say. He had no idea his little baby brother could kiss like that. “Where did you learn that?!”
“From all the girls I went out with,” Wakko answered.
Yakko blinked a few times. “Well….That was amazing. But why didn’t you say anything before you did it?”
“You know me. I like to be more….physical.” Wakko flashed a carnal smile at Yakko.
Yakko was floored. He’d always thought of his little brother as being somewhat innocent. Clearly, he was mistaken. However, he wasn’t disappointed.
Yakko’s eyes must’ve been bugging out, because Wakko dropped his carnal grin. “Was that too much?”
Yakko smiled. “No, just a little too fast. How about….” He moved closer to Wakko, in a cuddle. “We start here?”
Wakko cuddled back. “Faboo.”
-O-o-O-
Dot came back from the mall a few hours later. “I’m home!” she announced to the house.
Nobody answered. Dot pouted.
“They all went to bed and now I’ll have to wait to show them all the cute clothes I got.” Dot skipped to her room to put away her clothes.
As she got out her pajamas, she noticed that Wakko’s bunk was empty. Maybe he wasn’t asleep?
Dot shrugged, then went to the bathroom to get changed and washed up. She listened for signs that Wakko was still up, but heard none. When she went back to the bedroom, she realized why.
Both Yakko and Wakko were sleeping on Yakko’s bottom bunk. They were tucked in, nice and snug, and Yakko had his arm around Wakko, almost protectively.
Dot had to admit it was cute—and she should know. She figured Wakko just had a bad dream and couldn’t fall asleep without his big brother to protect him. She hoped it wasn’t because of the clown comment she’d made a few days ago.
“Oh, well,” Dot thought. She hopped into her bunk and immediately went to sleep.
-O-o-O-
The next morning, Yakko was the first one awake. He wondered if the previous night had really happened, or if it was all some crazy dream. Then he looked down at his little brother, sleeping cutely on his arm, and knew it was real.
Yakko looked at the clock. It was barely even 7:00. Normally, he’d just go back to sleep until 9:00, but he decided he’d just watch Wakko sleep for a while.
He didn’t get to watch him long, as Wakko began to wake up. Yakko gazed down at him, lovingly, as he stretched his little body, then smiled up at Yakko.
“Wanna go at it again?” he asked, sleepily, wiggling into a sitting position.
“I’d love to, but we might wake Dot,” Yakko answered. Then, he got a idea. “Since we didn’t take our bath together yesterday, why don’t we do it today?”
Wakko perked up in response.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
Very quietly, the two went down the hall to the bathroom. Wakko got out their washrags while Yakko ran the bath. As he was pouring the bubble bath into the measuring cup, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, that grabbed his attention and held it hostage.
Wakko, having gotten the washrags out, was starting to undress. Yakko watched as he slid out of his blue nightshirt and tossed it onto the toilet. Then he took off his red cap and placed it gingerly on top of his shirt.
Yakko stared, until he realized that the tub was slowly filling up with bubbles. He capped the bottle clumsily, unable to take his eyes off his naked brother. Just then, Wakko turned around and Yakko jerked his gaze in the other direction.
“Yakko, what’s wrong?” Wakko asked, going over to his brother, who still couldn’t seem to close the bottle.
“Nothing. Nothing at all! This bottle is just really hard to close, which is odd because normally I can never get it open. Man, they’re child-proofing everything these days, aren’t they?” Yakko liked this verbal diarrhea even less than the speechlessness that preceded it.
“You’re rambling. And why won’t you look at me?”
Yakko felt his head starting to turn, but resisted. “You’re naked.”
“We’ve seen each other naked before.”
“Yeah, but now it’s different. It’s like we’re….” Yakko struggled to get the word out. “Lovers. I still can’t get over the idea that maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
Wakko gently turned Yakko’s head downwards to face him. Yakko was now staring at his little brother in all his naked glory. The most frightening thing about it was that without his cap, Wakko looked a whole lot like himself.
“You even look like me. A constant reminder that we’re carrying out incest,” Yakko continued, nearly entranced. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. But what would happen if someone should find out? What if they separate us?”
Yakko was silenced by Wakko’s body pressing against his own. “If we’re very careful, nobody will know. Even if they do find out, they’re not going to take us away from each other. I won’t let them.”
Yakko needed no more persuasion. “Then let us commence our bath,” he said, grinning and sliding off his pants.
The brothers climbed into the tub. Submerged up to their waists in bubbles and water, it appeared as though they were innocently taking a bath together—if you completely ignored the fact that they had their arms around each other and were inches from kissing.
Yakko suddenly felt something move his tail. He looked down and saw Wakko’s tail tentatively rubbing against his own.
Yakko smiled, intertwining his tail with that of his brother. Soon, Wakko was pressed against Yakko’s chest, kissing the side of his neck, while Yakko rubbed his nose against Wakko’s head.
Suddenly the door opened. Dot poked her head in. Luckily, Wakko’s head was facing away from the door, so it merely looked like Yakko had his nose on Wakko’s head. Both turned to look at her.
It still looked weird, and Dot made no secret of this with her facial expression. “What are you doing?”
“Um….Sniffing Wakko’s fur,” Yakko answered. “This new shampoo smells great!” Yakko took a huge whiff of Wakko’s head and had to quickly hide how intoxicating he found the scent. Wakko only continued to stare dopily at Dot, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Dot must have been convinced, because she dropped the “what the hell” expression and said, “Okay!” Then she skipped off to the bedroom.
The minute the door closed, Yakko gave a sigh of relief. “That was close.” He turned to Wakko with a serious, but loving expression. “Maybe we ought to wait until we’re sure nobody will catch us. Or get a ‘Do not disturb’ sign.”
“It’s a little late for the sign, isn’t it?” Wakko said, lapping at Yakko’s neck.
-O-o-O-o-O-
Moral of the story: Always be aware of how many tongues are in your mouth.
I just go the Sims 4 route and make up a supernatural plant (similar to plasma fruit) for my "vegetarian" vampires to eat.
I know that’s kind of the go-to thing to show that a vampire character is “one of the good ones” or whatever but it actually seems a little bit more fucked up for a vampire to steal blood from a blood bank than for a vampire to attack people for blood, at least as long as it’s not the kind of vampire where a bite is instantly lethal like it never stops bleeding.
People can recover from losing some blood but blood bank blood is constantly in short supply and is reserved for people who imminently need blood transfusion of a specific blood type or else they die.
Brotherly Love: A Taboo Animaniacs Fanfic (Part One of Seven)
I warned you this was coming (check the tags). I told you, dog.
I was an older teenager when I wrote this. I'm pretty sure I had started college at the time. Somebody shared a dorm room with me while I was writing this nonsense. Possibly, they were writing similar nonsense; I went to a weird college.
Readers of my other account (that I haven't yet connected to this one) might recognize that I tried to rework this into a James/Meowth fic (but didn't get very far). Apparently, mapping Meowth, James, and Jessie onto Yakko, Wakko, and Dot might not work as well as I had previously thought.
Anyway, DEAD GOODFEATHERS: DO NOT EAT
Content Warning: Consensual romantic relationship between two siblings (just because I wrote about it in a story doesn't mean I'd do it; I have a sibling and I would never get bizzay with them); aged-up characters; terrible attempt at writing Scratchansniff's accent out phonetically; exhibitionism; questionable knowledge of psychology; big emotions, including: *extremely Gonzo voice* GUILT and *extremely Septa Unella voice* SHAME SHAME SHAME (ding ding); Yakko angst
-O-o-O-o-O-
All was quiet over Burbank that Thursday night. Yakko Warner sat on the balcony of the Warner Brothers Studio water tower, gazing over the city lights.
His two younger siblings, Wakko and Dot, were worn out from that day’s antics and were soundly sleeping in the bedroom the three shared. They hadn’t even stirred when Yakko closed the door of the water tower. Yakko should have been tired too, considering he wreaked just as much havoc as his siblings, but he had a lot on his mind.
Lately, he’d been having these “feelings.” They were similar to the ones he got when he looked at Hello Nurse, but more intense. Hello Nurse was pleasing to the eye—very—but that was it. He merely liked looking at her, not….doing things with her, like what he wanted to do with the object of these “feelings.”
The Warners didn’t age, being toons, but Yakko figured he should still have gone through puberty by now. He didn’t know much about this subject, having driven Ms. Flamiel off before she could teach them Health, but nevertheless, he was sure he wasn’t supposed to be having feelings for the person that he did.
A cold breeze chilled Yakko’s skin through his fur. He decided it was time to go back inside.
Before turning in, he decided to check on his siblings. Dot, on the bunk just above Yakko’s slept relatively quietly, occasionally muttering about how cute she was. Actually, Dot did look pretty cute when she was sleeping—a trait not many people possessed. And Yakko certainly didn’t expect the object of his affections to possess this trait, considering how gross he acted in his waking hours.
Yakko easily scaled the top bunk to gaze upon the object of his affection. His little brother, Wakko, lay curled up, pillow’s edge in his mouth, half-covered by the blanket.
Watching his brother sleep so innocently only forced the most dirty thoughts into Yakko’s mind. Hastily, he tried to expel them. “This is my baby brother! How could I ever think of doing those things to him?”
Looking shamefully down at Wakko, Yakko decided it was time for another cold shower.
-O-o-O-
For once in his life, Yakko was the last Warner sibling to wake up. Usually that honor fell to Wakko, but Yakko hadn’t exactly fallen asleep right after he went back to bed.
See, Yakko liked to talk. He talked almost every second of the day, to the point where Dr. Scratchinsniff threatened to duct tape his mouth shut. He even talked in his sleep, especially when something was bothering him. If Dot or Wakko had heard him, well….he didn’t want to think about it.
So one can imagine Yakko’s sheer horror when he woke up to Wakko, sitting by his bed, staring at him.
“Wakko, what are you doing?” Yakko shrieked, sitting straight up in bed.
“Watchin’ you,” Wakko answered calmly.
When Yakko realized that Wakko probably hadn’t heard him talking in his sleep—otherwise he would have been a lot less calm—he calmed down.
“I mean, what are you doing watching me,” Yakko said, more calmly.
Wakko shrugged. “You’re usually the first one up.”
Yakko sighed, relieved. However, Wakko took it as a sigh of exasperation and immediately drooped.
“If you don’t want me to, I won’t do it anymore,” he said in a small voice.
Yakko rushed to comfort him. “No, I don’t mind you watching me. Hope you’re enjoying the view.” Yakko flashed a cheesy smile at Wakko. Wakko giggled.
“God, what a cute giggle,” Yakko thought.
“I guess Dot’s already up,” Yakko commented, making the bed.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Wakko answered, throwing off his pajamas. He searched around for his blue sweatshirt.
Yakko turned around to look for his pants and let out a short cry of shock. He was staring directly at Wakko’s naked form. True, Wakko’s back was turned, and he didn’t normally wear pants, but still…. Yakko was fascinated by his brother’s lack of self-awareness sometimes. He suddenly turned away. “Stop gawking at your brother like that!” he mentally scolded himself.
“What happened?” Wakko asked, from under his shirt.
“I just stubbed my toe. I really should move the night table further away from the bed,” Yakko said, his eyes creeping slowly toward Wakko, who was still putting on his shirt and still naked.
At that moment, Dot came out of the bathroom. The minute she walked in the room, she shrieked. “Wakko, put your clothes on!”
Yakko saw a devilish smile come over his brother’s face.
“What if I don’t?” Wakko challenged, lifting his shirt higher over his head.
Yakko, despite his conflicting emotions, turned to the camera, blew a kiss and said, “Goodnight, everybody!”
Dot only rolled her eyes. “Wakko, if you don’t put your clothes on, I’ll be forced to….” She thought for a moment, then grinned menacingly. “I’ll be forced to call in a clown!”
Wakko’s eyes bugged out, then he very quickly slid his shirt onto his body.
Yakko raised an eyebrow. “Darn. I was beginning to enjoy that—WHAT?! NO!” He immediately slapped himself for thinking it. He put on his pants very quickly, hoping to hide the sudden protrusion.
As soon as the siblings finished breakfast, the phone rang. It was Dr. Scratchansniff, asking them to come in for their appointment.
Yakko was too consumed by his thoughts to even notice Hello Nurse, which really surprised Dot. Wakko, who was busy screaming, “Hello, Nurse!” didn’t seem to notice. Yakko felt a tiny pang when he saw his brother’s reaction to the voluptuous blonde. “How could I ever imagine that he’d feel the same way about me as I do about him?” he thought, sulking on the waiting room couch, oblivious to the bemused looks Dot gave him.
Dot gazed at Yakko. He definitely wasn’t himself today. Normally, he’d be talking a mile a minute, planning out exactly how he was going to fracture Scratchansniff’s sanity this week. And if he wasn’t doing that, he’d be happily looking at this month’s (or last year’s, depending on how diligently the magazines were replaced) issue of Toon Times. Today, he just sat there, looking as though he’d just been suckered into a conversation with Pip Pumphandle. Dot wanted to ask what was wrong, but she didn’t want to pry. Besides, she thought, he’ll probably be over it soon and be back to normal.
Dot, who wasn’t interested in any of the magazines, turned to Wakko to find him blowing spit bubbles. “Ew.”
Dot sighed. This was going to be a long wait.
Hello Nurse came out. “Yakko, Dr. Scratchansniff will see you now.”
Yakko dragged himself off the couch and trudged into the office.
-O-o-O-
Dr. Scratchansniff was shielding himself behind his desk, waiting for the inevitable explosion of Yakko entering. Honestly, every time the Warners came within a fifty foot radius of him, insanity and misery were sure to ensue. He couldn’t have one appointment without Yakko making sarcastic comments, Wakko doing something gross, and Dot getting off-topic and leading him on a verbal wild goose chase. A this rate, he was never going to get these kids de-zanitized.
“Vait a minute,” Dr. Scratchansniff thought. Instead of the usual noisy, zany greeting, he was hearing….silence?
The psychiatrist emerged from behind his desk to find Yakko, sitting quietly on the couch in front of him. He didn’t even seem to notice the doctor; he absently traced the wrinkles in the upholstery with his fingers, a pensive expression crossing his visage.
Scratchy had never seen Yakko this quiet. Ever. Even if he wasn’t talking, he’d usually be sitting there, smirking at the trouble that lay in store for the psychiatrist. Yakko didn’t seem to be plotting any kind of chaos; he seemed to be lost in his own world.
Scratchy cleared his throat to get Yakko’s attention. Sure enough, Yakko dragged his eyeballs up to meet Scratchy’s.
“Oh. Hi, Scratchy,” he muttered lethargically, punctuating his speech with a heavy sigh.
“Yakko, you seem to be awfully quiet today. Vhat seems to be zhe problem?” Scratchy asked, expecting Yakko to drop the act and start the chaos any second.
“Nothing.” Yakko mumbled.
Scratchy noted this on his pad of paper. This seemed serious.
“Yakko, if zhere ist a problem, you know you can tell me,” Scratchy said in a gentler tone. “Das ist vas I’m here for.”
“Okay, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it….”
“Try me.”
Yakko took a deep breath. “I think I’m attracted to my brother.”
Scratchy raised an eyebrow. This was new. He’d dealt with patients who had issues with incest, but it was a whole different story now that it was a Warner in the situation.
“You think I’m disgusting, don’t you?”
Scratchy looked up from his notepad. Yakko was staring at him, a hurt expression on his face.
“Nein, nein, I am not here to judge. Now, Yakko, are you sure zhat it is attraction you are feeling tovards Vakko?”
Yakko stared at him. “I. Want. To. Make. Out. With. My. Brother. Yes, I’m positive I’m attracted to Wakko,” Yakko retorted.
“Hmm….” Scratchy wrote on his pad some more. Yakko couldn’t take it anymore.
“You gotta help me, Scratchy! I’ve been hiding it from him all along and it’s eating me up inside! It’s only a matter of time until I slip up and say it or I say it in my sleep! I can’t have my brother thinking I’m some kind of freak!” Yakko jumped on Scratchy’s desk. “Seriously, I’m starting to find his lack of hygiene sexy,” he whispered behind his hand.
“Zhe only zhing I can suggest right now is writing zhese feelings in a journal. I vill have to zhink about zhis some more before going further,” Scratchy answered.
Yakko sighed, relieved. Maybe if he wrote his nasty little thoughts down, he wouldn’t have the urge to yell them from the top of the water tower anymore.
“Thanks, Scratchy! I’ll send Wakko in.” Yakko hopped off the desk and skipped out the door.
Scratchy knew he’d be able to refrain from telling Wakko about Yakko’s feelings for him. However, he still wasn’t exactly looking forward to this appointment. His office hadn’t smelled right since the last one. Plus, he could never get very far in de-zanitizing him because he never said much.
“So, Vakko, is zhere anything you vant to talk about?” Scratchy asked.
“Like what?” Wakko responded.
“Like…. Your relationship vith your siblings.”
“Oh.” Wakko smiled. “It’s fine.”
“Care to elaborate?” Scratchy pressed.
“It’s….really fine?”
Scratchy sighed. “Anything else? How about your day?”
Wakko thought for a while, then perked up. “I actually got up before Yakko! But not before Dot.”
“Go on.”
“And….she got into the bathroom first and took forever. So I didn’t shower.” Wakko grinned. Scratchy rubbed his temples.
Dot’s appointment was a little better. Scratchy got more out of her—maybe more than he wanted.
“So, Dot, vould you like to tell me about your relationship vith your brozers?” Scratchy asked.
“They’re cool most of the time, but sometimes Yakko talks in his sleep, which gets really annoying because he’s always yelling, ‘Hello, Nurse!’ And Wakko can be kinda gross. Like today, he didn’t take a shower—he hasn’t for two weeks now—and he wouldn’t put on his clothes until I threatened to sic a clown on him. Actually, now that I think about it, that was kinda funny.” Dot giggled.
Scratchy looked up in surprise. “He….vouldn’t put on his clothes?”
“Yeah, and it really seemed to freak Yakko out. I don’t know why, though, ‘cause they take baths together and they have the same stuff. Mostly.” Dot shrugged.
Scratchy was furiously writing on his notepad. Dot got bored and started balancing on her tail. She found that she could almost see Scratchy’s notepad.
“Whatcha writing?” she asked.
Scratchy held the pad against his chest. “Notes.”
“Oh. “ Dot got off her tail.
In the end, Scratchy didn’t call them in for a group appointment. Based on his notes, he had a lot to work through before he even made a dent in their zaniness.
-O-o-O-o-O-
Moral of the story: If you lock three volatile cartoon characters in a tower and expect them to stay sane after sixty years, you're playing yourself.
it's panels like these
that make me want to write Pinky having a job as a saloon boy into my patb AU
i love him so much he's so innocent i need to inflict a demon mpreg situation on him
i have maybe the worst type of cuteness aggression about fiction characters that im attracted to
I was reading some of the old Animaniacs comics and man did they turn the "English" dial up on Pinky
i love you English Rose Pinky
I completely understand people wanting more platonic stuff, but I dislike when they go about it in the "why can't they just be friends? 🙄" way, and belittle people for liking the characters in a romance. Plus this assumption that the person shipping the characters romantically couldn't possibly be ace or aro themselves, or must have amanormative views and see all characters ever this way etc. I myself have like 3 pairings I see romantically simply because I prefer their dynamic that way, I'm actually not out here thinking everyone has to be a couple or whatever
.
I used to be afraid that if I talked about or looked at images of any characters I was fixated on, everyone would be able to immediately detect my embarrassing blorbo thoughts about them.
Picture an eight-year-old girl watching Animaniacs, completely poker-faced (or as best as a child that age could do while watching that show), because she doesn't want anyone to know she has blorbo thoughts about Wakko Warner, because they'd surely call her a freak and socially ostracize her. That was me.
Back then, I didn't have the vocabulary to express those thoughts, but I do now.
do you ever like a character so much that just looking at pictures of them is a bit embarrassing.
Invasion: Circe's Bedside Manner Could Use Some Work (Part three of three)
The sound of the Tombstone of Life and Death being abused booms in the distance. Teen!me seems to have thought this an adequate end for the fic. Adult!me knows otherwise.
Part one is here. Part two is here.
Content Warning: Rape/noncon mention and aftermath; character assassination of Buzz Grunt; mpreg and hermaphroditism being normal for Sims; depiction of the Beaker household as not being a den of unethical experimentation; Loki and Nervous are apparently adoptive brothers in this; Loki has feelings about his parentage; pretty sure Circe convincing Loki to keep the rape baby was a bad idea; attempt at depicting trauma responses; giving Vidcund a past anorexia issue sure was a choice that I made
-O-o-O-o-O-
Pascal absentmindedly stirred the chili for lunch. It was looking a little black on the edges, but that was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment.
“Nervous seemed rather irritable today. If there’s something on his mind, why doesn’t he just tell me what it is?”
Pascal was brought back to reality by the smell of burning food. He looked down. “Just perfect.”
His brothers didn’t seem to mind. Lazlo still shoveled the charred food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“Slow down; you’ll choke,” Pascal deadpanned. Manners were lost on that boy.
Vidcund only picked at his food, but not because it was burnt. He’d been awfully quiet since the night before and he hadn’t said a word since lunch was served.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Lazlo asked.
“Not particularly,” Vidcund responded, scraping his spoon across the blackened mess.
“Vidcund, you skipped breakfast. You need to eat sometime,” Pascal prodded, not sure if the lack of cooking skill or something else killed Vidcund’s appetite.
Vidcund absently scooped up a spoonful of chili and ate it. Pascal stared, incredulous, while Lazlo looked amused.
“It doesn’t bother you that it’s burnt?”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
Eventually Vidcund did notice it was burnt and both he and Pascal had to excuse themselves, leaving Lazlo to dig into the leftovers.
Pascal pulled Vidcund into their plant room. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Vidcund’s voice sounded miles away.
“You’re spacey, quiet, and lacking an appetite,” Pascal noted. “You’re not starving yourself again, are you?”
“No.” This time, Vidcund’s voice was in Pascal’s face and firm. He didn’t like to be reminded of his short bout of anorexia.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Vidcund looked at the floor.
“Nervous won’t tell me what’s bothering him, you won’t tell me why you’re upset. How am I supposed to do my oldest brother job of fixing everything if I don’t know what’s going on?”
“I don’t think this can be fixed, Pascal,” Vidcund answered quietly.
“But I can at least try to make you feel better.”
Vidcund sighed. “Last night, I was looking at the stars. I wasn’t trying to look at what other people were doing, really, but I made a mistake in re-angling the telescope and I could see into this alleyway, and….” He trailed off.
“What did you see?” Pascal prompted.
Vidcund wouldn’t look at Pascal as he continued. “Buzz was standing over Loki, and….and Loki was tied up with his pants pulled down. Buzz was over him with his pants down….”
Pascal was speechless. “This must’ve been what Nervous was so upset about. I’m not too fond of Loki, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve that.”
“I want to tell the police, but what if Loki doesn’t want anyone to know? Even if I did tell them, Buzz would get basically a slap on the wrist and that’s it. Plus, he’d come after Loki and Nervous, and maybe even us.”
Pascal had barely regained his speech. So all he said was, “Why don’t we talk more later?”
Vidcund had no choice but to agree.
-O-o-O-
Circe was cooking dinner. Like, Pascal, she was preoccupied, but not so much that she burned the food. Usually Loki would cook, but he deserved a break, especially after what just happened.
Loki scrubbed away at the shower tiles. He’d been cleaning all evening and he barely noticed when it began to get dark. He didn’t care. Just as long as it helped him forget the encounter with Buzz, he didn’t care how long he took. The rhythmic squeak of the sponge on the tiles was the only thing keeping Loki from collapsing into tears.
He was always too busy to clean. In actuality, Loki loved cleaning. But now it seemed as thought cleaning was relegated to the “only for comfort” category. Considering how behind he was on it, he’d have a lot of comfort.
“As long as I keep busy,” Loki thought, “I’ll be fine. It worked for my father’s death; it’ll work now.”
He was so lost in thought, he barely heard Circe calling him for dinner.
Circe was setting the bowls of chili on the table when Loki came in. At first, she was glad that he seemed less distressed, but he didn’t seem much better than he’d been that afternoon. When she really thought about it, he seemed worse. It didn’t help that he was even paler than usual.
Loki wandered into the kitchen, his mind on autopilot. He wasn’t that hungry—actually, he’d felt a slight twinge of nausea earlier. But he had to eat, and Circe had actually cooked. She could’ve just ordered out.
Loki managed to whisper a thanks to Circe before they both sat down to eat. Nervous wouldn’t be joining them; he’d gotten dinner earlier then retired to his room for the night.
The meal began, but they hardly ate. Circe nibbled on hers, realizing she’d forgotten the chili powder. Though, judging by Loki’s interactions with his food, that was probably a good thing.
Loki was only picking at his food. Circe figured he must not be very hungry, what with all that had gone on. But then, the little color left in Loki’s face drained away and he ran from the room, covering his mouth.
She found him in the downstairs bathroom, wiping his mouth with toilet paper.
“Was it that bad?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Loki leaned his head on the toilet. “It was fine, Circe. I’m just not feeling very well right now. It’s probably just from breathing in those cleaning chemicals for so long.”
Circe sighed. This was really not Loki’s week, was it. “Okay, but you have to eat something. I think there are crackers in the pantry—”
Loki scrambled to lift the lid and threw up into the toilet again.
“Or I could just not talk about food anymore.”
Loki wiped his mouth. “I’m not really very hungry, anyway. I probably just need to get some sleep. I’m sure I’ll be better in the morning.”
-O-o-O-
That night, the Beakers slept a lot better, having figured out how to keep Loki from screaming himself awake. Circe and Loki lay cuddled up to each other, Circe, relieved that Loki wasn’t afraid of her touching him, and Loki, hoping that this was a sign of him beginning to heal.
Morning found Circe alone in bed, the covers on Loki’s side tossed haphazardly to the side.
A quiet sniffle from the master bathroom informed her of his whereabouts. She found Loki poised over the toilet, throwing up. She knelt next to him while he wiped his mouth.
“So I was wrong last night,” Loki said quietly, flushing the toilet.
“Maybe you should stay away from those cleaning products today,” Circe suggested. “Although, I’ve never seen anyone get sick from being around those particular cleaning products for too long unless there were huffing them.”
“They don’t even have ammonia in them.”
Circe thought for a minute. “Come to think of it,” she said quietly, “ I don’t think it’s the cleaning products that are making you sick.”
Loki remained silent. His eyes slowly met Circe’s, then both pairs wandered to the medicine cabinet where the box of pregnancy tests were kept.
“You don’t think…” Loki trailed off.
“I’ve seen the symptoms before. It wouldn’t hurt to try it.”
So Circe averted her gaze while Loki peed on the plastic stick. Then they waited for the results. One line meant negative, two lines meant positive.
There was much twiddling of thumbs and nervous shifting as the two waited the obligatory two minutes for the results. Finally, at the end of the two minutes, they looked at the result window and saw two blue lines.
Circe ran her hand through her red hair. “Okay….Let’s not panic. This isn’t the end of the world.”
Loki hid his face in his arms. “I cannot believe I’m pregnant by him.”
“Maybe it’s a false positive,” Circe said. “These tests aren’t always accurate, unless they’re those new Tombstone brand ones. Let me see the box.”
Circe picked up the box from where it had been casually tossed under the toilet and examined it. Sure enough, the cartoon of the Grim Reaper stating “Dead right!” was printed on the side, along with the tombstone logo. She let out a breath. “So it is true. Well….You still have a few options.”
“I don’t want it.”
“You haven’t even heard—”
“I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
“You’ve always said you wanted a child.”
“Not like this! This wouldn’t be our child; it’d be Buzz’s and my child.” Loki got up to go to the bedroom.
“We could raise it as ours.”
Loki turned to face Circe. “What do you think the kid’s going to think when he realizes he looks nothing like you? He’s going to ask us who his real parents are and we’re going to have to tell him that the only reason he’s here is because I got raped!”
Circe was silent. Loki didn’t yell like this often.
“Do you know what it’s like to know that you were an accident?” Loki continued much more quietly.
“Loki, your mother was drunk when she told you that. It means nothing.”
“She may have been drunk, but it’s true. I did the math. She and my father married just a mere five months before I was born. No one in their right mind plans to get that far along before they get married. My father was the one who got pregnant and he couldn’t abort me, so he and my mother had to get married.” Loki sniffed. “I would never want my child to have any reason to even suspect such a thing.”
Circe slowly approached Loki. “But there’s something you haven’t factored in.”
“What?”
“We would never act as though we didn’t want the child. Your father kept it together, but your mother…From what you’ve told me, she wasn’t that nice to you. Add the fact that she drank a lot and you’ve got a formula for trouble. But you’re not your mother, Loki.” Circe put her arms around Loki. “I’m not saying you should keep the baby if you don’t want it. I’m saying that if you do, you won’t mess it up.”
Loki thought for a while, staring at the ground. “In any other situation, I would abort it….But we’ve wanted a child since the second year of our marriage. And it’s not just Buzz’s child; it’s mine, too. And it will be yours as well.”
-O-o-O-o-O-
Moral of the story: If your husband (or wife) gets raped by the neighborhood alien-hating bully, just let him have the abortion.
Neil my dude, after showing my mother season one of Good Omens and my dad seeing a bit of it I mentioned you also wrote Coraline and either my mom or dad (don't remember which one said it) said you must have been a weird kid.
Could you please confirm or deny whether or not you were a Weird Kid™?
I was a weird kid.
You're allowed to feel sad, disappointed or lose some interest in a character because its no longer played by a specific actor or character.
(Obviously not talking about blatant racism here. Derail this and I'll scream.)
But I mean like. I see people shitting all over anyone who is losing interest in The Witcher because Henry Cavill is no longer Geralt, but at the same time actors will all have very unique ways of portraying the same character, and its perfectly fine to not feel the same way about how a different actor portrays or visualises the same character.
If you prefer the story and portrayal of Steve Rogers' Captain America over Sam Wilson's Captain America, that's fine! They're two completely different stories under the same mantle. You can absolutely respect the story and message of Sam Wilson's Captain America while still preferring the one Steve Rogers' Captain America told.
If you're in love with the way Henry Cavill depicts Geralt, you're not a bad person who holding onto that and choosing not to devalue Liam Hemsworth's interpretation by forcing yourself to consume media you no longer have a vested interest in.
Spider-Man is another prime example. While the core values and details of the Spider-Men stay the same, the specific stories and characters of each Spider-Man are supposed to be different. They're supposed to fit the narrative being told and the larger framework of the universe they are set in.
So many people hated on Tom Holland's Spider-Man because he wasn't the 'OG gutter rat broke bitch' but like. For one, we do actually see those aspects in the story still (Peter taking dumped items off the sidewalk, his small room, stressing about money and replacing things, ect) and for another, he's meant to be different because Spider-Man with The Avengers is different to Spider-Man alone.
Its meant to be a different depiction of the same character.
Its fine not to like one or to prefer the other but it doesn't make it bad media or a bad thing either way.
oh man another brinky songfic idea
A fic set to Stay by Shakespears Sister in which Pinky and Dark Pinky battle for Brain's soul.
Like maybe Future Brain (or Dark Brain, he exists) met with some unfortunate end and Dark Pinky jumped timelines to steal regular Brain just because he can.
Brinky Playlist
I revealed a short sampling of the one I made for James x Meowth, so why not make one for my current mouse fixation.
🧲 = could be from Brain's point of view; 🧀 = could be from Pinky's point of view
Float on - Modest Mouse 🧲
Your Woman - White Town 🧀 (they're having a tiff)
Dancing on my Own - Originally by Robyn, but I had the Calum Scott and Tiesto Remix in mind 🧀 (imagining Brain and Julia in da club while Pinky pines away)
Railroad Boy - The Magnetic Fields 🧲
Open Your Heart - Madonna 🧀
C'est La Vie - B*Witched (the Todd Barriage pop punk cover would work well, too, I think) 🧀
Flaws - Bastille 🧲 (Pinky wears his flaws on his sleeve; Brain buries his deep beneath the ground)
Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift 🧲 (might also work for Seto Kaiba, for any Yu-Gi-Oh fans out there)
Witch in the Ditch - Erasure 🧀
Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi 🧲 (they've separated for some reason and Brain does not like it at all)
Wrecking Ball - Miley Cyrus 🧀
Right Thru Me - Nicki Minaj 🧲 (Brain wonders how Pinky can never seem to ponder what he's pondering, but at other times can read him like a book)
Gonna Getcha Good - Shania Twain 🧀
Hard to Forget - Sam Hunt 🧲
Doctor Jones - Aqua (any metal cover would do, also) 🧀
Also I find myself thinking of Roman Holiday by Nicki Minaj whenever I remember Romy is short for Roman (Numeral I).
"Can't two guys be just friends?" If they stop looking at each other like that then sure
more crackfic ideas
Cotton Eye Snow(ball) comes into Acme Rodent Town and acts generally toxic to everyone. He messes around with the wrong mouse's boyfriend (Pinky Dusk) and ends up in a showdown with Bull's-Eye Brain.
I'm actually going through something like this right now.
As of this post, there is only one Pinky and the Brain fic that focuses on Brinky (Pinky x Brain) and mpreg (that I know of; if you know any others, please, help a [Warner] brother out). As it so happens, I'm working on writing a Pinky and the Brain fic that features--guess what?--Brinky and mpreg. In both fics, Pinky is the one getting mpregged.
I'm still going to continue writing my fic. Because there are key differences between the two that ensure that mine wouldn't be considered superfluous (the explanation behind the mpreg, the tone and framing of it, the events surrounding the pregnancy, even the identity of the father). Also, it's just fun to write and post fic (especially cursed fic).
Even if those differences weren't there, I'd still write it. My writing style is different enough that I think I could bring something unique to the subject.
I have a question for the fanfic writers among you: How do you treat your work in progress when a very similar story is put out there? Do you go on writing - in the spirit that everything is unique in its own way - or do you abandon the piece - in the spirit of preventing 'superfluous' contributions?
Let's add a further wrench into the process by saying the recently published work by another author, so similar to your own, seems so much better written than your own (granted we are always our own worst critics). Where do you go with that?
Maybe this is a question for readers, too. Do you mind reading similar works/story lines?
Some ppl are like "I'm a kinky sex-positive pervert freak!!!" and then make fun of virgins and asexuals..... sure, reclaim freakiness but keep working on that because teasing ppl for their sex lives (or lack thereof) is, unfortunately, very normie mainstream vanilla behaviour. the right to sexual determination includes NOT having sex. 101 shit. Like this isnt subversive dude, it's using the edge of an ideology for bullying
"Down With the Blank Space" (a Disturbed/Taylor Swift mashup) would be the perfect soundtrack to a fic where Pinky is slowly becoming Dark Pinky after having met up with Snowball and the two of them start a very toxic romantic relationship.
Anyone else ever think about shipping a grown-up Dumbo with a grown-up Hathi Junior?
Like, maybe Dumbo and his mom make it back to India after being freed from the circus. Dumbo, being a male elephant, leaves the herd when he grows up and joins a bachelor herd, where he meets Colonel Hathi and his son Hathi Jr.
Time travel might be required for this to work, but they're Disney characters, so just chalk it up to magic.
speedrunning gay mice insanity any%
I have half a mind to write a silly ass songfic to White Town's "Your Woman" where Pinky and Brain have a rough patch and break up for a while, then Pinky falls into Snowball's clutches and Brain comes to rescue him to Blood on the Dance Floor's "Bewitched," then Pinky and Brain passionately make up to White Town's "Undressed."
