iammyowncryptid
Cryptid
He/They (more he than they)Fanfic authorObsessed with Batman
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crotchbush
Thick natural hairy Gay bush
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Time to move on, old man
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Macabre Musings
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Off Topic And Off My Rocker
tarekeffect
Q W E
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This is such a funny concept lmao. The whole plan gets fucked bc somebody left the tv on
Switch boys!!
Clearly that was the correct decision on the staff’s part, given that the metaweapon seems to have the brains of a bowl of tapioca. And that might be being optimistic, frankly.
Superboy did not previously believe that television actually rotted children’s brains, but he’ll have to reconsider, now that he appears to have met living proof of the concept.
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Did some experimenting with mediums in my sketchbook and BOY sometimes a second take helps A LOT!!! Look at first version vs this second take under read more (The second one was much closer to what i wanted to achieve!)
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was looking for something and found my favourite izutsumi panel
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WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )
Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.
She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.
“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.
Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?
Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.
Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.
Or survival instincts.
“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .
Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.
Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.
“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”
Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.
She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.
A serious problem.
“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”
“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.
“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”
Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.
Flattering, but incredibly obvious.
“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”
“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”
“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.
Or a lot harder, sometimes.
Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .
Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.
Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.
Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?
Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.
“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.
“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”
Red Hood laughs.
“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”
“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?
She spent way too long in Amity, yes.
Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.
“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .
Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .
Then again, her life is her life.
It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.
“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”
Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”
“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.
“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.
Hm.
She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.
Well, so is Amity Park, of course.
“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.
“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”
Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.
Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.
Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.
Definitely inappropriate.
“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.
“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.
“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.
“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”
Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.
Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.
She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.
Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.
“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”
“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.
“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .
Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .
“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”
Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.
Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
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Being a middle schooler is so hard. Everything is embarrassing
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One detail I've always really liked in dunmeshi's worldbuilding is the difference in life expectancies among races. I don't mean the different rates at which they age but specifically how long they live from the point of view of their own group. For example, dwarfs are directly stated to age 2.5x slower than a tall-man, but where tall-men's life expectancy is only about 60, for a dwarf it would be about 200 (equivalent to 80).
At first this stood out as odd to me but it makes sense when you look up the average lifespan for every race. In general, the short-lived races all have a smaller age of maturity to life expectancy ratio than all the long-lived ones.
I really love this discrepancy because the implication here is that long-lived races not only have longer lifespans due to aging slower, but they also just live longer generally due to a better quality of life, as they have taken the most fertile and livable lands to themselves, resulting in less conflicts over resources and faster technological developments.
Ultimately how long you live isn't just a fantastical element of the setting, but a political one as well.
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A persons fanfic tells you a lot about them, i , a fanfic writer, realize in terror
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he sounded like that wasn't the first time he needed to do that
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I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:
Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin.
Here is a page of medieval weapons.
Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.
Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.
Here are some gemstones.
Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on.
Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.
Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised.
Here is every religion in the world.
Here is every language in the world.
Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.
Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.
Here are poisonous plants.
Here are plants in general.
Feel free to add more to this!
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I feel like I should make a post about this because it’s not something that’s very well-known, and that Americans in particular may need to know about given the uncertain state of our healthcare system at the moment. I’ve wanted to write this out for a while, It’s kind of a long post, so sorry about that!
If you have an emergency and have to go to the hospital, you’ll owe the hospital a lot of money.
(I got into a car wreck and broke my ankle and my arm. My hospital bill was around $20,000)
You’ll also owe the ambulance provider, if you need one.
(My ambulance bill was about $800)
You may get separate bills from the anesthesiologist or surgeon.
(My anesthesiologist bill was $1,700)
You may need follow-up appointments.
(My orthopedic surgeon billed me for the appointments and his surgery together and it was about $1,000)
You’ve also got to pay for medical equipment you need afterward, like crutches or a walking boot.
(Mine cost about $75)
Altogether, I ended up with almost $24,000 in medical debt from one car accident. That’s a really scary number for someone like me who makes $10/hr at a 12 hour a week job.
I got my debt down to $1075 by making some phone calls and submitting some paperwork.
The first thing I did was contact the hospital. They don’t make it easy to find, but many hospitals (perhaps most hospitals?) have financial assistance programs for people who can’t afford medical bills. I don’t make a lot of money, and I have bills to pay, so they were able to help me.
I called the billing department and asked if they had any assistance programs for low income people who can’t pay their bills. I had to call multiple times, and I got transferred in circles by people who didn’t know what I was talking about. Finally, I got an appointment with someone in “Eligibility Services” (I don’t know what other hospitals call it, if it’s something different). I had to bring my pay stubs and copies of all of my bills. When I got to the hospital for the appointment, nobody knew what I was talking about so I had to wander a little to find where I needed to go. I spoke with the guy in Eligibility Services, and I waited for a decision on how much of the bill they would forgive. A month later, I got a call telling me it was totally forgiven.
I did the same thing for my ambulance bill and my anesthesiologist, but the process was a LOT easier. I just had to mail some paperwork and it was totally forgiven.
I didn’t bother with the medical equipment suppliers, since the bills came from separate companies and I didn’t feel like going through the process twice for $75. I was assured at the hospital that they had similar programs for debt forgiveness, so I could have probably avoided paying that too.
The only thing I couldn’t get taken care of was the surgeon/follow-up appointment cost, but they were able to put me on a no-interest payment plan.
Medical debt is scary because it’s something that can come from stuff that’s already really scary. I didn’t need the burden of $24,000 in debt on top of trying to get around on a crutch with a broken arm (it’s not easy, believe me!).. but I can’t imagine what it would be like with a bigger debt or a more severe medical emergency.
I see lots of people in even worse trouble than I was in, both financially and medically. Please know that there are options for you when that GoFundMe doesn’t do enough. Even if your income is higher than mine, it’s worth a shot even for partial debt forgiveness.
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