#ok ok ok so i am dying of thirst lately right
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Ugh so I am not happy with how my @inklings-challenge story is turning out. I like the idea, don't think it's executed the best and it's not done, but I want to publish some of it anyway. Maybe sharing some of it will help. This as been a great exercise so far for me though. Any feedback is appreciated.
I fully intend to rework this into something bigger. I've got other ideas...
Anyway. Here is part of Strange Gods.
Look, you won’t be hearing telling this story at any other time, but it’s a party and I’m a little drunk. You know how it is, after almost everyone’s gone home, it’s late August and the air’s warm but it’s almost midnight and it’s got that coolness in the air, plastic chairs are huddled around a dying fire and it’s only the friends that are closer than brothers. The heart’s nocturnal. I guess this is when it comes out.
So here we are and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you and I don’t care what you think. Well. I guess that’s not true. I don’t know if we did the right thing. But you’re not the one we have to answer to.
Since Brad brought you in with us, I guess you know we used to be a band. Strange Gods. Ever heard of it? Well, little before your time. We were never big. Mostly local shows and Metal Fests. Opened for some bigger names a couple times. We had fun, we had hair longer than our girlfriends’ and sometimes more makeup then them too. Mostly we were just guys in jeans and T-shirts with a passion for music. We fancied ourselves artists. My wife calls music “the art most like divinity”. Like how God could just speak and His words obeyed and music is a little like that. Ours was more like a sneeze than divine speech maybe but she loved it still. I still play for her, sometimes.
Oh the best part was the fans. The girls. You know how it is. You’re kinda weird in high school, a little awkward, but then you start strumming on a guitar, you say oh yeah I play drums in a band and suddenly you’re doing ok.
The worst part? The fans. We weren’t too big, but you’d get recognized every now and again. Sometimes it was all cool, just talking about music and shit. Other times people got a little weird. They thought oh, here’s someone famous, and then you’re almost not human to them anymore. But it was usually alright. And there was one in particular that I—none of us—will ever forget.
The kid was a local. Not much younger than us, but a hell of a lot more awkward. It was alright though. He wore these glasses and those kinds of shirts with full moons and yellow-eyed wolves scattered on the front and he’d sort of talk at the ground instead of at you and he loved the fact that a lot of our songs were based on local history and legend—half-hanged witches, wolves with a thirst for human flesh in winter, earth that won’t accept the dead—a lot of what you’d expect. Well this kid’s name was…I’ll call him Louis. Louis met us at Outer Realms (you know that pub on 114th?) after a very small gig, but we hadn’t been in Strange Gods for very long, so even small gigs were celebrated. Maybe we would have been more weirded out by this kid kinda staring and shyly shuffling up to us if we were sober but you know what, it was ok. Jason even let him have one of his guitar picks and we got him a beer, which he accepted enthusiastically but didn’t drink once. He said he loved having someone write songs about all the stories his dad told him as a kid. He said if we wanted more inspiration, he could help us. He collected stories, he said, the ones you whispered at sleepovers and summer camps, the ones that changed a little bit every time you told them, the ones almost nobody really believed. And we were like, hell yeah brother. That’s how Louis became our consultant for lyrics. Winter Walker, Thy Iron Refine, and Dance at the Bottom of the Sea all had songs with lyrics by him. But he never wanted credit, never wanted his name listed on the albums. He just seemed content to hang out at our house and tell us stories. Whenever we went on tour he would ask us to collect legends of the cities we visited. Brad told him he was welcome to join us but he just smiled at the ground and shook his head. He liked it here. Why would anyone ever want to leave?
Louis was friends with us for almost two years. He even spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with us since he didn’t have anyone else since his dad had died. He worked two part-time jobs, one at Seeny’s Pizza Arcade and one at the post office sorting letters, but most evenings and weekends he would come join us, sometimes bringing over a new boardgame all the way from Europe or a home-baked apple-pie (this guy could bake). Or he’d go on long walks wandering in the woods and fields outside town.
One day in November Louis didn’t show up for our usual Saturday night jam. We were working on the song Night Rite for the album that ended up being Seven Red Seeds and he was supposed to show up and work on lyrics with me and Jason. We were supposed to be filming a music video to go along with the new release and that was pretty exciting. But the kid never showed. We shrugged it off. After all, he was a bit of a loner. Besides us he didn’t seem to have any friends. He took long walks, sometimes after midnight.
Yeah. I’ll have to answer for not looking a little harder sooner.
Brad tried calling him Sunday with no pick-up. We drove down to the house that he rented from Mrs. Ozeki, but she said he want out on one of his little tramps at around 4pm yesterday, but she hadn’t heard him come in.
No, it’s alright. I’m fine, I’m just getting a little too sober I guess. I mean it’s not alright but it has to be.
We reported his disappearance after checking in with his work and learning he didn’t show up there either. The police investigated us, briefly. We were basically the only people he hung out with and maybe all the songs about murdered kings and lost whaling ships freaked them out a bit. Ultimately they ruled us out. They ruled almost everything out.
Brad, Jason, and I were all volunteers for when they swept the woods in long lines looking for scraps of clothing, his glasses, anything. I remember us all looking at each other, thinking the same thing, but Jason was the only one who said it out loud. He said, I don’t want to be the one to find his body.
The most they found when they swept the woods was his camera. Someone else had found it and we never got to see what exactly was on the film. Someone clearly has. The newspapers speculated about if it had held any clues, but any questions for the Sheriffs department was met with a “we do not believe the photographs from the victim’s camera hold any information about what led to his disappearance.” Yeah, bullshit. We heard stories around about most of the pictures just being of the few remaining winter robins, which Louis loved. And then everyone had a different version of what was on the last three. Some said close shots of a man in a red windbreaker. Some said blurry images of a great white wolf like the legends.
But the one that we all thought sounded the most real, was that of a field. You know the one near the old Pressfield cemetery? Photos of seemingly nothing but brown grass and gray skies but in the distance what looks like an enormous black bird flying near the ground. And over the last few photographs, the thing gets closer and closer, until the last picture is a smeared mess of Louis turning around, I guess to run. I don’t know for sure though. I pray to Christ I never do.
What we saw was enough.
In the end the case ran absolutely cold. They had nothing. If some psycho got him, he left no trace. If he got hurt and died of exposure, where was the body? If an animal got him, where was the blood and torn clothing? He sure as hell didn’t just ditch town out the blue.
We took a little time off from everything. It just didn’t feel right, you know, writing about death and ghost stories when our weird little friend had just become one. I’ll always wonder. If he thought, you know, this is fitting. To become what I have always chased. God I’m still drunk. Of course not. You don’t think about all the badness you write songs about until you can’t even bury someone’s son.
His uncle and a few cousins came down to collect his things and clear everything up. The oldest cousin met with us a few times, let us know that she was glad Louis had had some people here after his dad had passed away. She invited us to the little funeral they had at Salve Regina Church. Brad almost didn’t go. He gave in eventually but he sat in the back and didn’t stay afterward. No, I’d never been until then. There were moments, you know, moments where I forgot why we were there and the strange chants and the candles and the silence dropped over you like heavy night and bright day and I remember looking at the wrinkled man in black and gold and thinking, this is crazy and I think I’m wanting to be crazy too.
The priests shook our hands as we left and spoke to us about Louis and about how he would pray for us and ask the other Fathers to pray for us too. And they nodded and smiled gravely and the taller one, Father Nicholas, said, we will be happy to see you next Sunday. And Jason said we’d think about it.
Eventually we had to get going with life again. Things felt a little more somber. I mean really somber, not this adolescent misery we’d been playing with. We stopped going to Outer Realms after every work day, Brad flushed all our weed. It just felt cheap. Jason spent more time with his little sisters during his free time, Brad flew back to Chicago for a few days during Christmas to spend it with his parents. Me? I hung around. My future wife was here and that’s where I wanted to be.
It was mid-February when our producer started kicking us to get back into finishing our songs and making the music video that had been put on hold. And you know I guess without really discussing it, we knew what we wanted to do.
Dies Irae isn’t our most famous song, but I don’t care, it’s our best. When we talked it over with our producer, we drew a hard line: Pressfield cemetery. That old one where they found that kid’s camera? Yeah, that’s the one. We want it filmed there.
That’s what we said and that’s what we did. And yeah, old natures die hard, it was still over-the-top, it still had some goth-looking girls (one of whom eventually became my wife), and when we got there it was freezing and gray and brown-iced earth. It was still us and we hoped it would still be Louis.
We had a couple of days to film. On the first day Jason went for a little walk around the perimeter of the cemetery, fingers red from the cold as he held his cigarette, and when he came back around he looked a little jumpy. He said, I don’t like it here. Them birds are talking. Talking? Yeah talking. Well, laughing.
It felt weird being there again. There was a feeling in the air even from the film crew that had never been there before. One said it was bad luck to be walking around all these bodies and the only reason he was doing this was because he needed the money.
And it was weird to think that the gravestone that had Louis’s name carved into it was just a false monument.
On the third and last day it started pouring rain. Just pounding. You couldn’t hardly see a damned thing in front of you. It was the kinda rain that hurt when it hit you it was coming down so hard.
We were packing up, almost everyone had left, when Jason comes up to our pick-up and asks if we heard a weird noise. Weird noise? Well hell yeah, those girls were wild. No, he says, I ain’t kidding. Like a growl but more human. Like a scream, but more animal. Well, we kind of laugh at him, say it’s probably a cougar. And before Brad can make a joke about that—
There it is. It’s not a scream. It’s something that slices through the tombstones and rattles the eardrums so it was a sound—but of what I don’t know. I don’t know. Everyone got this look, this dead look like the world fell out beneath our feet. Nobody said a word. It sounded like it had come from somewhere in the middle of the cemetery. And there was a smell too. You know when it rains it mixes up the dirt and the plants and it just shocks you with the scent? It was like that, but as if the dirt was freshly dug and something rotten was unearthed.
And like I said, you couldn’t hardly see. Just dark blotches where the graves were blinking in and out of sight between raindrops. We just stood there, watching, listening. My heart has never pounded harder. I saw those rumors in my mind of gray skies and something big flying towards you and those are the last pictures you ever take.
Finally nothing happens and we start looking at each other, feeling like of course it was just an animal prowling around. Gosh, you had us scared man. Let’s get the hell out, let’s get back to my place, I’m cooking alfredo and Brad’s got a couple of bottles from the producer’s vineyard. Sure it was nice of him to share. Yeah actually I did get that girl’s number, the one with the green eyes? Come on, get the heat on, I’m freezing.
And we’re driving away, the noise forgotten—except Jason keeps looking out the rear window, just quick little checks. I pretend not to notice. But he twitches a couple of times, opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but no. He keeps quiet. Eventually he stops looking and seems to relax.
I don’t stop though. And a couple of times through the sheets of rain and the obstruction of the trees, I wonder if I see something wet, dark, and shiny slinking along the road. But it’s impossible to tell.
I get up the next morning and find this thing slung across the back porch. The ground is still soaked from last night’s rain but it hasn’t managed to wash away the shear amount of blood that’s coating the concrete patio. And I need you to get this. It was so much blood. You could’ve splashed around it. My stomach almost couldn’t take it. My sense of smell certainly didn’t.
Brad and Jason got up because of the smell. They shuffled out like the dead awakened and found me staring at this thing on the porch. Jason started retching and I told him to puke in the sink. I wasn’t about to clean up this thing and then clean up after him. What the hell is it? Brad says. Who cares? It’s got to get off the porch. Looks like a malformed-newlyborn-mut or something. Maybe it got suckered by a car.
We dug it as deep as we could and it crossed my mind that, damn, maybe we shouldn’t have a thing that smells that bad, a thing that looks that rotted decomposing God knows what into the soil. And Brad didn’t say anything but I knew we were thinking the same thing. Something about it just feels wrong. Like we shouldn’t be touching it. Like we shouldn’t have even looked at it. It crossed my mind that maybe Father Nicholas could come over and do whatever it is priests do to make things clean.
The paws though, check those out. They kinda look like hands, thinking maybe it’s a raccoon but the bastards too big. Good lord, it looks almost rotten. Maybe something else dropped it off. On the porch? On my porch man? Get the hose too, we got to wash off the whole backyard after this. Get the shovel and help me out—of course we’re going to bury it, that’s just what you do. Something’ll dig it out of the trash if we chuck it in there. It looks sorry enough, that’s just what you do.
How big? Maybe about four feet long. It looked pathetic and disgusting and I didn’t tell Brad this but I almost was glad. Maybe that ain’t it. But it felt right that we had our shovels and we were digging a hole and we were going to lay this bloody pulp in it. Father Nicholas once told me about things being fitting. And I guess that’s what it was, fitting.
No, I didn’t, make that connection, between this thing and what we heard in Pressfield cemetery. Not yet. But you know how it is. You never think you’re going to get a story out of something while you’re in it.
The thing was buried and we scrubbed ourselves off and then moved on with our day. Jason seemed much quieter, but he’d been that way since Louis vanished. So maybe it was nothing.
During the night I drempt I was on a boat. It was a boat that my parents had taken me to once, on a family vacation to Main. It was white and blue and unlike that July day years ago, the sea was wine-red and wild with storm. The waves were flooding the deck and the red foam left behind looked like clumps of flesh. I was stumbling around, looking for my mom or my dad or anyone at all—but the deck was empty. I found the door that led down into the lower deck, and the wood was almost black. I put my hand against the icy door, about to push it open, but somehow through the crashing of the waves I heard a scratch, like a single long claw dragging from the top of the frame all the way down to the bottom. I pressed my ear to the door. I don’t think I was breathing. And I listened to the scratching go all the way back up and down, slowly, over and over again.
When I woke up, it was still dark and at first I was thinking I was still sleeping. The scratching sound was still ringing in my ears, and I sat up trying to shake it away. My stomach churned. The clock said 2:36 A.M. I turned my head to the small window that looked into the dark backyard and realized that the scratching noise was coming from that direction. A long, slow scratch from the top of the window to the bottom.
I wasn’t as scared as you’d think. Maybe I was still too asleep, maybe all my panic had been used up over the last few days but I found myself crawling over to the window and just—waiting. I couldn’t see jack. I hadn’t flicked on my lamp. I just waited until the scratching started over at the top and I followed it down the glass, trying to see something, anything. But all I could see was what looked like a glint of a knife and a clearly defined scratch down the middle of the pane. And that’s when it kicked in, me getting scared. Someone was dragging a Goddamn knife down my window.
The most sensible thing to do, or at least the most sensible thing my half-awake brain could think of to do, was go wake up Brad and get the rifles from underneath his bed. He was not happy. He told me I should quite drinking so much before bed, but eventually he got up, gun on his shoulder.
I kept the light off and nodded to my window. We held our breath listening. Brad got closer, looking out into the blackness. The scratching had stopped and I didn’t see anything outside. But Brad noticed the crack in the glass and suddenly looked very awake.
I’m going to go check outside, he said, and as he headed toward the back door, the one closest to my bedroom, there was a series of loud slams that sounded like a person jumping off the roof. At this point Jason was up, and he’s asking what the hell was going on and Brad told him there’s a wildcat clawing Steve’s window or some crap. I’m going to fire a shot up and scare it away.
But two things happened before Brad could slide open the back door. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but there was an familiar smell that had been growing steadily stronger, a rotten, turned-earth smell, and I couldn’t say anything except stop. Don’t open it, wait.
And Jason, stone still looking out the back window at the porch right behind the door, called out the same thing. Stop.
That’s not a cougar. You gotta look.
I’m telling you, we did look. And there was the slimy pink thing with long skinny limbs crouched in front of the back door. It looked like it had a fleshy cape on its back and it twitched as if in pain. We watched unmoving as one long claw flicked up, digging into the door, dragging it down slowly to the ground, and then repeating the act, slowly, slowly.
And you just knew, you just knew, this was the thing that wasn’t supposed to be here.
No, no way, Brad was saying, this is getting too weird. We buried this thing. We put it in the ground. And it crawled out. And we saw it. It was dead. We threw it in the hole and it got back up.
Jason was still watching the thing as it lay on the doorstep. We don’t know if it was actually dead, he said. He said it in a whisper. Well you didn’t bury it, says Brad.
***
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PALIA SENTENCE STARTERS
based on the mmorpg 'palia' developed by singularity 6.
add context & change gendered language to your needs !!
if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!
Welcome to the general store, pal.
[…] so I guess I should say: welcome to the livin'!
Come back when you get some cash, we'll take care of your needs.
The more you spend, the more you get back. Trust me. That's just how the world works.
What can I do for you?
Make the most out of each day, my friend.
Here I was thinking you'd be too busy setting up to say 'hello'. How goes it?
Are you new in town, or just passing through?
There's something about you that just brightens up my day.
I have a good feeling about today.
I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get sleepy.
So, I think it's safe to say my job is about to get A LOT more interesting.
Are you off on an adventure?
Today is a great day for adventure! Well… any day is a great day for adventure. But today is especially good.
What ails you, my four-legged friend?
You've got a surprise for me?
I wish I knew what you were saying…
Well, if it isn't another friend I haven't met yet!
Hey there! The day treating you alright?
I don't know it [name] was laughing with me or at me, but either way, I appreciate the chuckle.
Tonight, I'm feeling exuberant, with a bit of nostalgic ennui mixed in.
I don't need your company… but it would certainly be appreciated.
Relaxed… I envy you. I don't think I've ever felt relaxation.
It pleases me to see your thirst for knowledge is so difficult to quench.
Back again, are we?
Your mischief and wit know no bounds, neither does your desire for knowledge.
Even the most cunning hunter needs a helping hand once in a while. You hear me? If you ever need help, all you have to do is ask.
You showed up just in time.
I like you and all, kid, but there ain't nobody who can stop me from bein' me.
So, how are you feeling? I am sure this is quite a lot to take in.
Keep that positivity, and you'll overcome any troubles the world offers you.
I was just settling in for my evening meditation. Care to join me?
Name's [name], but you can call me trouble.
I see that look on your face. Up to no good, aren't ya?
Let me guess: You were just dying to see me.
Just so y'know, our doors are always open for ya.
So nice to talk to someone who wants to listen… between you and me, with the kids, it's always in one ear and out the other.
There's nothin' like the feelin' of a job well done.
Some people think it’s boring all the way out here… But I like it.
It is way too early… or did I stay up too late?
You might want to stand back. I’m working on my latest invention, and I’m not entirely sure this thing is stable.
You look as though you have something you’d like to ask.
I chose to keep them around for mostly sentimental reasons.
These daily chats of ours bring me much peace. Please continue to come by, I would miss it if they stopped.
I’m also good at lifting heavy stuff, if you need anything heavy lifted!
You lost? That's okay, I get lost sometimes too.
Oh… sorry I didn’t see you there. I was just a bit distracted. Seems to happen to me a lot…
I am just an intrepid explorer of the supernatural, a detective of the unseen divine, a pioneer of pervasive thought…
I am glad you are still able to experience joy after everything you’ve gone through.
Hello, hello! You have caught me at just the right time.
All it’s taught me so far is how to die of boredom. So stop by again later and keep me entertained, ok?
Are you just going to stand there staring at me, or did you have something to say?
Sometimes I forget how interesting the world is. Like, I’m pretty sure I saw a gnarly looking beetle over there!
Aren’t we feeling bold today?
Oh, good. Someone to talk to who DOESN’T give me a splitting headache.
This had better be important…
I was so caught off guard, I realized I forgot to introduce myself or explain why I'm here.
Why don't you come back when my head's spinning just a little less?
It's good to see you again! I always look forward to seeing your face. But you know, like a normal amount.
It is… good to see you. Why was that so hard to say?
Perhaps you should learn to become more comfortable with solitude yourself.
Oh no, I know that look.
I'm presently ruminating on the darkness of the soul.
I do fear where my thoughts might go if I linger here alone too long…
Unfortunately, I returned with many new ideas and no new direction.
Beyond that, you shall have to answer the question of "what you are" for yourself. As do we all.
You were bound to return one day… why not today?
For now, I enjoy basking in the presence of others.
Hmm… What should I make for dinner tonight…?
You’re talkin’ to me?
Been makin’ a name for yourself lately. Every time I go into town, someone’s singin’ your praises.
#rp memes#rp meme#rp prompts#rp prompt#roleplay prompts#writing prompts#ask box meme#askbox meme#rph#rpc#judasrpc
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September has been. a lot.
(cut for long ranting/venting below, possible tw about fleas, health issues, disability, and housing stuff)
preparing for disability approval hearing after 2.5 years of waiting
suddenly, disability office decides to approve me without even doing the hearing
this is great, I am going to get more money. not a liveable amount of money. but more money.
including back pay for the 2.5 years which is a substantial chunk of change
I buy myself a new mouse to replace my broken one and a new phone case to replace the 3 year old one. splurging!!
my year-old referral to the psychiatric hospital went through also and now I have multiple appointments to get set up
now that I have a bit more money I should finally buy a bedframe. yanno after 2.5 years of mattress on floor. which I don't mind but it's cold in winter.
after multiple attempts finally organize to get a bed off kijiji. ask roommate if she will borrow her mother's car to pick it up, she says yes
find a couple fleas on my cat. panic mode. go get flea killer the next day and talk to the vet
wash and clean everything. like 5 loads of laundry in one day. exhausted.
got to borrow a handheld steamer from a friend-of-a-friend to try and kill any remaining flea eggs on the couch/mattress but means I gotta make a pretty big trip to pick it up. it's raining and cold, and I'm so low brain I keep making stupid mistakes, but I do go to a Value Village and find some stuff I needed so it works out
also still got more psych appointments
and a physio appointment I'm really nervous about because I've never been to this place before and it's about vaginal problems
go to physio appointment and nobody is wearing a mask, lady coughs on me in the waiting room, doctor is running late, their receptionist is out because her mom died, place is a mess. the physio himself is great but can't do the exact treatment I need so not going back.
but gotta go pick up the bed!
right before going to pick up the bed roommate is coughing and sneezing so I ask if she's sick again
she gets mad at me and suddenly we're in a huge argument about all the stuff she hates about living here and how she thinks I'm a weirdo loser who just sits around all day and I should be grateful she even stays here etc.
while I had already been thinking about telling her she should move out in a month or two because her constant complaining about every aspect of her very boring normie life is driving me crazy.
(please don't complain about "only" making 40k+benefits working from home to someone who had an 8k income last year and has relied on gifts and dwindling savings to get by. it's like complaining about the champagne not being chilled to someone dying of thirst. you're allowed to complain, just find someone else to complain to!)
this is after we had an argument in August and I told her if she was going to hate living here she should move out now so I could get a student for Sept and she said no she'd stay until spring...
so she tries to one-up me by saying she doesn't want to pay October rent and I'm like ok no problem I'll use your deposit and don't worry about the bed I'll handle it by myself :) and she storms off
it is actually laughable how bad she was at trying to hurt my feelings. I was deeply bullied in school and my parents argued constantly, calling me a loser because I don't go out of the house is kiddie level stuff, it just slides right off.
(I will concede there are a couple valid criticisms in her complaints but repeatedly I offered solutions she didn't want to take. and I don't like her or respect her enough to apologize.)
picking up the bed is. an ordeal. the seller is late, the taxi i booked is early and now running the meter while I wait for her, it's cold out, but I push through and my neighbour helps me get the bedframe into the apartment when I get home.
my IBS, of course, flares up badly. I'm also not sleeping much.
still got more phone appointments but now I don't feel safe doing them in the apartment when she might be coming back at any time so I call my health clinic down the road and find out they do have a room people can use to make phone call appointments
so that's what I do. the doctor from that appointment nags me to follow up on another appointment, so I try to, but we get times mixed up
I am at this point in negative spoons. like part of this is my fault but I thought I would have just enough spoons and then time to recover, but with the roommate stuff I am now deeply in spoon debt
but still gotta try to schedule this second appointment!! while not knowing if I'll have a private place to have it!!
I manage to do that today after packing a bag so I can leave the apartment quickly and do the phone call elsewhere if she shows up
I still haven't put the bedframe together. I am so exhausted I can barely scroll tumblr but then I can't really sleep well either.
I read a whole John LeCarré novel in the past couple nights of not sleeping (A Most Wanted Man, deeply depressing look at post 9/11 spy stuff in Germany, not his best)
I have also been watching a lot of Seinfeld because it requires zero brain
I still haven't watched the new Andor and I'm multiple episodes behind in weekly anime including LycoReco :(
I don't know if she's coming back today but half her stuff is still here. so tomorrow, even though I have zero energy to do so, I am going to have to plan to leave the house if she comes back and starts being a bitch again because I can't waste any more energy on her. there's a zine fair happening in a library I can go to.
but the sooner I am free of her the better!!! so she better fucking come get her stuff!!! I don't care if it looks like I suddenly got money so I decided to get rid of her, because yes, I was only putting up with her shit because I need to make rent!!!!
oh the the fleas seem to be gone, so at least there's that. I think the cat picked them up from being out on the balcony. lesson learned.
i think the lesson on the roommate thing is, don't do favours for people if it's making you miserable. nobody wants that.
and especially don't persist in doing something you hate even though you were given an out because you want to feel like a Good Person. you will definitely get resentful and bitter and it never works out
I think a large chunk of our problems was neurodiverse/neurotypical communication issues too... like I'm not officially autistic but I can't stand it when she asks me something and I say no and she just keeps trying to nag me into doing it. or she says "Sorry, I'm in a hurry," instead of "Can you please get out of the kitchen for a minute". I'll do that kind of polite shit if I'm being paid or it's like my aunt or something, but I'm not doing it all day every day.
anyway next roommate absolutely cannot be a hipster bougie type who's just slumming it for a while until they can get a nicer place / new rich boyfriend.
#misc#if I still had a therapist I would be able to vent to them#but alas funding is limited and I am back on the waitlist#and I don't want to be that friend who only gets in touch because they want something from you#so here we are tumblr#tw housing insecurity#tw fleas#tw disability#tw mental health#just realized i FORGOT some more stuff that happened#but I will spare you all the details#because I am once again tired
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H0rny vent, minors don't read pls :)
#ok ok ok so i am dying of thirst lately right#and i have this friend who all we tend to talk about is sex bc were both thots#and hes gay and cis so he has many questions about female biology#and me and him and our str8 friend were all swimming together in his apartments pool#and mind you the str8 friend is like a little bro to me. hes my best friend aand dating my other close friend.#i set them up actually#but we were all hanging (all of us are old friends) and me and mark (the gay friend) have a history of fucking our friends#just out of curiosity and yknow. thottery.#so the question came up if me and str8 friend would ever hook up. and we agreed out loud that the answer was no#but uh. ive been getting an energy from him. hed never bc he has self control and were better off friends#i esp felt him staring in my swimsuit and trying not to. and its one of those things thats like no its never going to happen#bc itd be odd and its better off not happening. but ofc theres a small fantasy element now bc of that#so me being off my birth control. im extra horny. and when the boys fall asleep im on okcupid#find this dude whos willing to hook up that night. and oh. my. god.#first of all: hes huge. 6'2. broad shouldered. a dick i cant even get all the waway in my mouth#like the fucken chinchilla with a banana meme lmfao#second of all before we start he holds me by my waist while he stares up at me from the edge of the bed#and he licks his lips and says 'you look good'. so uh. instant turn on.#we start making out and grinding and he says under his breath 'imma have to see you again after this. youre too fine for just 1 night'#and ughhhhhhh how his huge hands felt on my waist. he hit thee spot that has me screaming#when i topped him he lifted me up and like. brought me back down on his dick. reprepeatedly. like i weighed nothing#and when i was riding him myself he goes 'you look so good while you do that'#then i gave him head (after he topped me and just fuckin wrecked me) and when he was close he told me to sit back#and just look pretty for him#he lifted up my chin and just started jerking himself off to me 😳#oh not to mention how he ordered me to look at him while he fucked me#oh my god. he just checked every kink box i had#oof including calling me a good girl#im just like. still reeling. like just the memory gets me wet lmao#i became such a bimbo around him.
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They want us together - Vinnie Hacker
Picture’s not mine
I know my last post were about Rio and Johnny , and Vinnie has nothing to do with them, but he is one of my favorite dudes so ... Hope you enjoy it
Vinnie Fluff
Warning : Language
Word Count : 1.4k
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Bzzzz bzzzz
Your phone buzzed, indicating Vinnie was live. It was rare of him to do so since he was more likely to stream on twitch. You opened your phone, tapping on the app as you entered his live. You watched as more people are joining in and commenting in hopes of Vinnie noticing them.
“Hey guys, hope you are all having a good day! I wanted to hop on in since it’s been a while, I was thinking of just chatting for a bit and I’ll probably go annoy the others” he said chuckling a little. His eyes were moving fast trying to read as many comments as possible.
“SUP FOOL 😝” you write down, as everyone commented that you were watching Vinnie’s live.
He chuckled “Hi (Y/N), weren’t you supposed to be here like an hour ago?”
See, you were kind of popular on social media and you had made some friends over at the Hype house over the past months. When Vinnie moved in, you hit it off quite fast with him. You had a lot of mutual interests and you would always laugh when you were around him. Being in the public eyes wasn’t always easy. Vinnie had everyone drooling over him and you being around, got you a lot of hate.
On the contrary, a lot of people were shipping you, saying you had the same vibe and that you’d look good together. Vinnie was attractive, no denying that, but everything isn’t about looks. He’d always been nice to you, supporting and encouraging you through everything and you’d do the same for him. He was easy to talk to and everyone could see that you’ve grown closer and had a genuine connection.
“I’m in a uber heading over to the house” you typed as he read your message.
You continued watching for a bit as he answered some question as you got off commenting that you’d arrive soon.
Once you logged off, Vinnie spoke “Ok guys, what do you say we prank (Y/N) when she gets here?” He said smiling eagerly planning something with his followers. “I’ll go downstairs now”
As the gate opened, leading your uber driver, onto the path to the big mansion, Vinnie runs to the front of the house, hiding in the bushes next to the door, ready to scare you.
“Ok guys, she’s pulling up now, get ready to laugh” He snickered trying to stay silent so you wouldn’t notice him.
You got out of the car and started walking towards the front door when Vinnie came out of nowhere scaring the hell out of you. One hand flying to your chest as you let out a scream of terror while Vinnie laughed is ass of at your reaction.
“Guys! Did you see that? Shit was hilarious” He continued almost dying of laughter.
“Shut up you asshole” You said chuckling lightly as you slapped him on his chest. “You really got me there” you smiled sweetly at him.
“I’ll leave you to this, guys. I’ll talk to you soon, probably streaming tomorrow as well. Bye” He said as both of you waved before he ended the live. You got inside, going straight to the kitchen where everyone was already chilling.
“(Y/N)!” Michael stood up drink in hand, standing next to you while giving you a side hug. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine with me” You smiled greeting everyone. Michael came back, handing you a rum and coke.
You all catch up for a bit when Alex spoke “What do you say we play never have I ever?” He said already a bit tipsy filming us all to get content for his vlog.
As most of us were down to do something other than just chatting, we decided to agree as Alex filled in his drink. “Ok I’ll go first than” He said sitting down next to Kouvr.
“Never have I ever gone 24hours without showering” Pretty much everyone drank except for Vinnie, Mia and yourself.
“Why am I not surprised that you didn’t drink, boy’s always in the damn shower” you said laughing at Vinnie, referencing to all the thirst traps he posts.
You all continued to play for a bit, everyone having fun and laughing.
“Never have I ever fantasized about someone in this room” Michael said before taking a big gulp out of his drink, clearly too drunk to get the concept of the game anymore.
Thomas, Mia, Kouvr, Alex and Vinnie took one as well.
“Girl you better drink, cause I know for a fact you have” Mia said pointing at you as you blush taking a sip.
“Oh yeah who is it?” Michael asked smirking at you, bumping your shoulder with his.
Your eyes went to Vinnie for a quick second
“None of your goddamn business” You answered chuckling lightly as you continued to play for a little bit before everyone got tired.
You weren’t though, so you decided to go down to the pool while most of the others went to bed.
“Anyone wants to join me for a dip or are you all going to leave me by myself” you asked
‘Vinnie will join you. He never goes to sleep before 3 in the morning anyways” Thomas said smirking looking at the both of you.
“Uh yeah sure, let me just go get change and I’ll meet you back down here”
You went into the pool as you waited for Vinnie to come back. When he did, he jumped in, splashing you as you laughed. He came back to the surface and swam closer to you.
“Want to make a Tiktok with me” you agreed, plopping the phone near the stairs as you got in place to film a TikTok dance that was trending. You filmed yourselves a bunch of times since you couldn’t stop laughing at each other. Once you finally got a nice take, you ended the video by pushing Vinnie in the water his arms grabbing you dragging you along as you both feel in the pool.
You both were laughing as you came back to get some air and Vinnie posted the video on his account. Even though it was late, the video already got a lot of reactions, comments saying stuff about how hot he looked and how you too would make a great couple as people shipped you.
“People really want us together” He said chuckling as he stared down at me
He put his phone back near the table as he came back in the water approaching you.
“So, who’s the person you’ve been fantasizing about huh?” he asked getting closer to you as the words left his mouth, a smirk plastered on his face.
“No one” you shrugged blushing “Let me remind you that you drank too, so who’s the person you’ve been fantasizing about?” you asked as you grinned back.
“You” he said boldly looking directly into your eyes. “I mean I like you (Y/N). I’m myself when I’m with you and you always make me laugh at the simplest things. I don’t want to lie and say I never thought about kissing you before because I have. In fact, I’m always think about kissing you”
“Are you thinking about kissing me right now?”
“Yeah I mean –“ You cut him off pressing your lips to his. He kisses you back as his hands flew to your hips pulling you in closer to his body. His tongue peaks out just enough against you bottom lip for you to open your mouth a little bit more, as you whimpered against him. His lips were softer than you’d ever thought they’d be, and they meld perfectly against yours. Your hands made their way trough his hair, tugging a bit as you got more into the kiss, making him let out a small groan. You could feel him smile against your lips as you pulled away to get some air. Once you open your eyes, Vinnie is already looking at you, his eyes piercing your soul.
“I like you too Vinnie, I have for a while now” you said blushing avoiding his stare.
He grabbed you by your chin pulling you closer as he pecked your lips, laughing afterward. He looked so good, his hair dripping, his eyes sparkling with joy and his lips swollen caused by the kiss you just shared.
“So, I guess everyone was right about us huh?”
“I guess they were” you giggled leaning towards him as you cuddled and made out all night.
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Thank you for reading
Hope you like it, let me know what you think
-K
#vinnie hacker#vinnie hacker imagine#vinnie x reader#vinnie hacker x reader#vinnie hacker fluff#vinnie#tiktok boys
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hae interrogationes multae respondeant quia demens .
if you read this entire ask post you deserve a gold star and financial recompensation
Um, Obviously because when you’re adopted by a white guy you automatically become white duhhh
this is about this post lmao and yeah youre absolutely right, you have to hand your poc card in when you get adopted by a white guy.
Do you think Cass would listen to Yanni, the YouTube channel epic symphonic rock, or some other stuff? There's some cool mashups but idk if that's up your alley, I kinda feel like I'm pushing it with my weird taste of music by recommending an orchestra cover of metal, but i just love that sort of thing and mashups :P @harvestyourcherries
i haven’t heard of that? but in my personal (correct) opinion steph listens to classical music, and then both modern and older, and then also stuff like black sabbath, iron maiden, but also hardrock and hardcore. i like the idea of cass just liking the most extreme screaming songs full of noise and then also listen to pachelbel’s 370th sonata yanno? THANK YOU for the rec tho
speaking of ur cass playlist hc...reminds of the time (yesterday) i found 2 playlists randomly on spotify from the same user. one was abt 3 hours of instrumental/classical "dark" & "nostalgic" music. the other almost 11 hours of nothing but hardcore bass/synth/electronic music. just an incredible tightrope act to put on in public. the synth one was also called like "psalms for synth sluts" which is Also incredible
tbh i LOVE synth SO MUCH like for no reason at all but then also cannot handle a poppy electronic beat lmao. but this seems like the kinda thing i’d do but just in one (1) playlist bc i just sort songs by vibe instead of genre? that’s how i end up with britney spears and billy ray cyrus in the same playlist.
Oh, I want Kate Kane playlist next! It would be amazing if you could do one when you have time and will 🙏
how rude would it be of me to just say no? like sorry kate but idk you and also you seem way too keen on the us military for an institution that homophobically targeted you? (and also commits war crimes) but let’s unpack the fact that the institution that caused the death of your mom and sister and also got you blacklisted for being gay is still one you align with???
'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' --- when i tell you i fucking screamed LOL!!!!!!! i can imagine the cameraman not knowing if he should cut to commercial or keep it on these two weirdos fighting on stage (bruce definitely ruffled dick's hair/noogied him right??
about this post but yeah lmao. this cameraman just turns to like the audience to get a reaction and it’s just multiple moments of CLEAR shock.
you are the only funny person on this hellsite
how egotistical is it for me to say that i get this ask multiple times a month? bc it literally happens so often it’s hilarious to me.
Wish there was more john/Bruce content 😔😔😔 was so hungry I actually looked at canon media 😔😔😔 (Justice League Dark babeeeyyyyyy)
check out batman: damned for some mediocre content but at least it’s john/bruce (also very interesting story and stuff, just got very >:( over this weird part where harley quinn tried to r*pe bruce or something? it’s not for everyone)
dick grayson but he's nicki minaj
his anaconda don’t want none,,, unless......
Dick Grayson was never a cop, he played Marshall on Paw Patrol
you are SO right. also paw patrol is a fucking good show idc. that shit could’ve been the new steven universe on this hellsite.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CS1lI0bLI7-/?utm_medium=copy_link
...
why do people keep reposting my CONTENT. if you are not funny yourself don’t just grab shit off of tumblr and post it on insta,,, get a life. sidenote: should i start an insta and get all these ppl to take my content down that would be funny as hell.
Might I suggest for a Gotham City Meme: something about the true crime fandom thirsting for the rogues gallery
ok can i just say something slightly controversial?? no? i don’t find true crime ppl who are into criminals funny, that shits disturbing irl im not gonna bring that into my very chill universe.
i may have never seen a 'jason cleaning guns in sink' fic but i do know he WOULD
THANK YOU
bestie im sorry to say this to you but while you can, and people do wash their guns in the sink, that is a lot of lead in a very vital part of the kitchen.
people tend to do it in the bathtub.
WHY???? like damn why do you even have guns
i dont think i read many gun sink fics exactly but i have read lots of fics where jason cleanes his guns in the living room. usualy dissembles them and cleans them with a rag i think
lmao fair enough, like i think that’s a large part of what i remember as well.
if you say you've seen/read gun sink fics I believe you. I think those of us who didn't see them are lucky or maybe didn't search for fics by tags or something idk
i mean ive never sought them out but i HAVE seen them,, like definitely i know almost for certain.
saw your tags and I'm interested in Steph/Kara now. They would be the most chaotic couple <3
literally thoooo, i have a wip where they get together in a zombie apocalypse and like UGGGHhhh i am so in love with them.
I am the Breece anon. Thanks for the recommendation; am reading now. I’ve always been a hardcore Superman fan because I love my pure himbo farm boy. My logic is, if one Bruce is a Broose, then multiple Broose are a herd of Breece. And this is a hill upon which I will perish.
fair enough,,,, like moose, meese, goose, geese, bruce, breece. i get your logic and i stand by it as well. (glad you enjoyed the comic recs!!!!)
It's a beautiful day in Gotham, and you are a group of horrible Breece
OH my god dude lmao
there only being 42 fics on ao3 for tim and bernard is honestly so sad i need more
it’s like twice that now!!! we did it lads. (tho very sad that my fic isnt number one but like number 4 :(((( )
i'm too late you already did the poll lol but may i suggest bethy (bernard + timothy)
shit dude that wouldve been so fucking funnyyyyy. think ppl have just stuck to timber tho, tim/bernard kinda died down recently and i think it’s too bad, they’re a great couple and i love them.
Wait, hear me out
Bernothy @redlightofdawn
great recommendation (lmao this ask is from like a month ago) but very sorry to announce that NARDTH is the superior shipname
Wait, we know that bernard likes milfs (Tim's step-mom) but what about dilfs? gilfs?
Wait no, I regret sending that ask
these were two seperate asks and they’re HILARIOUS. in my personal opinion tho,,, milfs, gilfs, dilfs are just about vibes and bernard is just attracted to sexy ppl who may sometimes be milfs, dilfs, or EVEN gilfs.
crime in bludhaven would drop to half if nightwing had a boob window. in this essay i will-
WHERE’S THE ESSAY ANON, WHERE’S THE FUCKING ESSAY
Wait if Barbra and Tim r at opposite ends at all times what happened to Barbra once everyone’s Tim’s ever love before started dying lol
she won a lottery ticket and spent 2 weeks on a resort in the bahamas before returning home and finding out that the joker was arrested for tax evasion and then spent a month staying at her big tiddie goth girlfriend’s house before conner came back to life and she broke her pinkie playing table hockey.
Why is the opposite end thing so funny and compelling to me. Tim comes back from his depression quest for Bruce and Babs is now a literal god
lmao when tim loses his spleen barbara reaches nirvana.
Are you still taking music recs because I have three songs that remind me of Jason that I think you'd like
send to me or lose a toe
🌸 ⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐🌸😋
thanks, i wont tho on account of i wont.
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMduBy3Sr/
⬆️
This is the whole of Blüdhaven and everyone anywhere.
Nightwings ass alone saves more people in a calendar year and does more for so society than most heroes do their whole career.Also u are one of the funniest tumblr pages out there. The vibes are unmatched and the memes and tags ✨send me✨.Thank u and goodnight @julia-flow
fanksss also lmao.
That's going to be a little bit difficult to explain, but
There's some music that you listen to and you think, "oh my gosh, I can perfectly imagine Dick Grayson singing this song, with the same voice as the singer because that voice matches with Dick Grayson"?
oh yeah totally lmao. i have a lot of songs that i think are just entirely dick grayson yanno? kind of all of my playlists have that vibe, but i really find bleachers to fit with dick? idk.
"Lois lane/Superman" fics this, "Lois lane/Clark Kent" fics that, (/lh) let's get into the real good stuff. Some people ship Lois, Clark, and Superman as a throuple. Most popular fic tag for sure
yes totally, i think they’d be absolutely killer on ao3 and clark gets so fucking embarassed about it.
I miss your post, hope you’re doing okay!!
haha this was like 2 months ago, but i was doing fine then too! just didn’t have a lot of inspiration in terms of content.
Doot doot!
noot noot
I’m confused. What did DC do now? Like with nightwing? And another sibling? Please spoil everything for me
lmao they gave him a secret sister plotline where they had his dad cheat on his mom with tony zucco’s wife, bc dick’s life wasn’t traumatic enough yet.
sorry but it's so funny that batman is called "the dark knight" when the gotham city baseball team is called the gotham knights. it'd be like if a vigilante was running around new york called like "the scary yankee"
lmaooo no. but like yankee comes from dutch names or something so wouldnt it be HILARIOUS if gotham knights came from like german names and bruce would be running around called the dark KLAUS UND NIEK @graysonnightwing
(not a batcest shipper) it’s so funny to me that the responses are “i’m a batcest shipper because i can differentiate fiction from reality and and it doesn’t bother me personally, but i understand why you oils think it’s weird” to “i wish all batcest shippers a very fucking die”
yeah lmaoo. i personally basically flipped my entire stance around to ‘i dont care please leave me and everybody else alone’ bc i think there’s really no point in starting a moral dillema over some fucking fandom bullshit. Please just,,, go home,,, log off, find a nice forest to have a little walk in and remember that somewhere in history, somebody probably died in the place you’re standing. and you will also die someday, and somebody will have to look at your internet usage and see you fighting multiple people anonymously while being named ‘nightwingsbuttchin200186′ like... calm down, we’re all gonna die this is not the thing to worry about.
so since like "wards" don't really exist in modern society almost all the batkids are foster kids, right? i used to work in the system and imagine: monthly visits from social workers and guardian ad litems, bruce having to get permission to take the boys anywhere out of state, calling their social worker at like 8 a.m. like "yeah dick broke his arm again... a gymnastics accident this time...." their poor social worker. bruce send her a huge bouquet and box of chocolates every month to stay on her good side
i imagine the social worker just getting into the case like ‘yeah let’s get this kid a good guardian’ and then ending up having to work with 22 y/o bruce wayne and his 50 y/o dad. and so this social worker is like ‘okay we can work with this, this is the best home i can find’ and then like it ends up landing on its feet and then the kid gets adopted and then they get a call a year later like ‘uhm so hi, this kid tried to steal my tyres can i adopt him?’ and like 3 years later. ‘okay so basically, my neighbours’ kid imprinted on me and now they’re dead, can i keep him?’ two years later it’s like ‘okay so this assassin child-’
ever since I saw that one post of yours, the meme that's something like "I know that abba's backup dancer got me" with a picture of discowing, I've been haunted. Every once in a while I'll be minding my own business then the image of abba's backup dancer dick grayson aka nightwing aka discowing will flash in my mind and I'll be frozen in place. Today at work I was in the middle of folding clothes and suddenly once again discowing entered my mind and I suddenly lost the ability to see anything except He. Thank you.
wow. the IMPACT.
Braver than any US marine man props to you🤝
this shit is about the time i wrote an article on batcest, like man,,, the fact that i didn’t get cancelled is MIRACULOUS. also like,,, uh if anybody on here did gossip on me,, send screenshots i’d love to see it.
Hello, just wanted to say your article was great. Thank you for taking the time to provide an unbaised answer. It should provide people with nuances they couldn't possibly conjure on their own.
May I ask where your username originates from?
yes you may (also thanks!!!) i thought it up when i was trying to find an original username bc i didnt want to be called like ‘timdrakes something something’ or ‘jason todd something smoething’ or ‘dick grayson something something’ yanno? so i thought batarangs, they sound so dumb and that’s my username story... now it’s my whole entire brand lmao.
yno that bit in kick ass where red mist asks kick ass if he wants a hit of his blunt, was that the inspo for stoner tim
no? it’s bc i think stoners are hilarious and drugs are great. (dont do drugs tho)
How would u feel if someone actually wore one of those bruce or ollie pride shirts u edited
fenomenal next question.
Dick as lil huddy and Jason as James gave me radiation poisoning and now I’m screaming crying throwing up so thx for that
(Rico suave as Tim is perfect tho literally no changes needed)
i was so funny for that shit wasn’t i??? lmao i loved those weird ass fancasts
You're doing the Lord's work by providing us with all these Gotham/Metropolis citizens memes, thank you for being so relentlessly funny @nellethiel-aranel
you’re welcome!! i really enjoy making memes, but getting validation for my content and my memes is REALLY nice.
Bruce is such a slut in your memes and honestly i love that for him @rhodey-rhudert-rhodes-main
he’s that much of a slut irl too dw.
Bruce and Alfred have an emergency pride flag for the batkids. Oliver Queen printed an emergency "I love my gay son" t-shirt and as soon as Roy told him he was dating Jason, Oliver started wearing that shirt everyday and Roy always cringes when he sees it. Oliver also has an emergency "I love my lesbian daughter" shirt just in case for Cissie.
lmao YES i had a post like this bc like all of their kids/family members are so gayy
stop bringing back batfam fancasts it is not real it is not real it is not- 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀
oh yes it is my darling.
did discowing burn down the notredam because he hates the bees? @allulily
no he did it bc fuck the french.
im gonna beg for 1 thing and 1 thing only. please please please put physical by olivia newton john on dick's playlist
okay then beg. bc i wont. physical reminds me too much of glee and that hurts me mentally.
your playlist is sorely missing some Madonna. Specifically Into the Groove, Like a Prayer, and Vogue
i’m scared of madonna that’s why she’s not on there. she haunts me in my dreams.
suggestion: son of batman by aaron dews for dick’s playlist🤩
sorry, i listened to it and the vibe didn’t agree with me.
Hear me out, metropolis citizens sending rare pair fics of Clark Kent x Superman fics to Lois to edit
yes, absolutely hilarious. even more funny if they send like physical copies, no address attached and lois sends it back marked with red ink, SOMEHOW
Imagine all the smut Clark must of read editing the fics
clark reads smut confirmeeed
NOT LOIS READING SUPERBAT PORN AND EDITING IT A 2AM
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
hc that alfred is a meta that boosts healing factor of the people around him. if the bats are injured as much as they seem to be they would be doing bat stuff MAYBE half the year. no one including alfred knows about this. whenever the kids move out they inexplicably dont recover from injuries as fast and feel better whenever they visit the manor they just chalk it up to homesickness. bruce just thinks he heals really fast. alfred thinks everyone doesnt take care of themselves properly @finchcollector
that’s actually such a great idea, but i think that alfred would find out and learn how to concentrate it better so he can help more people, bc he’s great and i love him.
One of your dickfast posts reminded me of that tweet that goes: 'so you've had sex how many times? Yeah technically that's not a bromance' lol that's dickwally or dickroy
literally tho. like that’s all of dick’s friendships. once it gets past a certain time dick is like ‘wow i wonder what it would be like to make out with wally, wally come make out with me’ and wally’s like ‘we’ve done this like 40 times, dick, you know what it’s like’ and dick is like ‘sorry are you complaining?’ and they just make out.
superfam and batfam associations??
-batman and superman
-dick/barabara and supergirl?
-conner and tim
-jon and damian
pls enlighten me I am confused
nope,,, uhm batman and superman, but dick and superman as well, and then conner and tim, jon and damian and steph + babs with supergirl
I came across a fic in which Wonder Woman calls Batman "Stella" (like Stellaluna, the children's book) and I can imagine the batkids hop on the trend and maybe copies of the book appear at random places (aka, everywhere Bruce frequents)
sorry can’t reciprocate that was the name of my high school chemistry teacher and it gives me nightmares to think about.
good human what are your pronouns?
wouldn’t you like to know?
I need me some gothamites preferring harley over joker memes
everyone prefers harley over joker youre just very fucked up if you dont
don't understand why people try to add like veteran policy to the batfamily
dick pulling out his veteran batfam member card so he can eat first: step aside, peasants
Do you know the song Simmer by Haley Williams? It (the first verse anyways) reminds me of Jason? It's about rage.
damn yeah i LOVE HAYLEY!!!! youre right thoo
Okay so I like listen to your stoner Tim Drake playlist 24/7 but would he listen to skegss? Also I keep adding songs mentally it’s killing me 😩✋🏼 Anyways,, I literally love and worship your playlist 😃🤞🏼 And uh yeah have a good day ✨
stoner tim drake playlist is lyfeeee. also dont know who skeggs is? i’m stupid? have a good day!!
All the Robins (and Batgirl) decide to trade costumes for one night just to fuck with Batman and all the villains in Gotham. @subspacecadet
batman knows it’s them youknow but like,,, what does he call them? he’s like ‘red hood?’ and 3 people answer and he’s not about to compromise some identities so he’s just Pissed.
I aspire to treat cops the way my dad treats them. This man is a 45 year old Asian immigrant to the US and the treats them like his pets. He talks about them like unruly children. Sometimes he pays off local cops to shut up and stop acting racist. And usually it works. I don’t know why but I can see Oliver Queen doing this
vibes... and also yes? oliver queen handing a local cop a donut to shut the fuck up lmao. but yanno i commit enough crimes to not really want to ever see a cop ever, so they kinda scare the everloving fuck out of me.
seeing as tim hasn't aged in years, that means he was 17 at peak emo tumblr era. im back on my emo tim bullshit and im not letting it go
emo tim had a wattpad account send tweet
People seem to think that batman is so dark and serious when the rainbow batsuit is right there. He wore it with no shame.
dude the 60s were a DIFFERENT TIME
dick grew up in a circus, jason grew up on the streets, and tim was probably raised by the internet
all of them cuss every other word and you cannot tell me otherwise
bitch i KNOW but dc has to change to an 18+ rating if they want to sell comix with swear words in them so we gotta deal with imagining the swear words in ourselves
thoughts on teen titans and young justice
haven’t seen teen titans on account of havent seen it and young justice was LITERALLY my favourite thing ever, tho i do gotta admit it’s not at all similar to the young justice comics unfortunately. i really wouldve liked to see timmy bart kon cassie and cissie animated on tv!!
ew ew ew how to delete batcest shippers I genuinely digust them
log off tumblr?
Okay as poc who was called racist for calling an Italian pastabrain: in the batfam are Italians bit Damian just yells various insults about the others being Italian. Just him yelling “What are you doing you moronic spaghettihead!” At steph etc
huh? i meant real italians. homeboy is telling steph he hopes she chokes on her fucking garlic.
I think it's dumb as hell to pull the batman is the best fighter in the batfam argument because like it's just irresponsible of Bruce to let his kids fight when they couldn't possibly be on his league or something
fair enough, but also like who cares they could all kill you just sit down and take a beating.
lady shiva, thalia al ghul and Selina Kyle are all milfs @notanothertimburtonenthusiastugh
unfortunately, i have to admit,,, you’re right
why tf didn't someone give joker a death sentence already? like he's a mass murderer...give him the electric chair treatment wtf
idk i think plenty of people would have tried to murder him already (boring answer is: he is a popular character so they can’t kill him off bc he brings in lots of money)
There’s no such thing as “ copaganda”.
all american media is propaganda. happy to clear this up for you
is it bad that I find lady shiva owa owa
no. find her as owa owa as you want.
aight I'm guessing the order of your favs in batfam:
1. tim
2. Steph
3. dick
4. Duke
5. the rest
you’re wrong but it’s cute that you tried, i generally don’t have favourites, but i have a special place in my heart for steph, tim, dick and cass. bc they were like my introduction to batfam. but damian, jason, duke, bruce, babs and alfred are NOT FORGOTTEN OR UNLOVED
oh my god i was literally just readily willing to believe that italians werent white ty for clarifying it was a joke im so dumb sdkvjskdfs
i mean some italians aren’t white? italian is a nationality as well as an ethnicity, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
since I saw so many people doing headcanons about the nationalities of batboys, I see Dick as an Italian.
dont know if youre serious or not, but sure.
super random but
jason 🤝 damian
old english
lmao fair enough.
tim absolutely has 1 gay uncle and his parents shit talk said uncle all the time so after bruce adopts him he specifically reaches out to this uncle to be like "heyyyy just so you know you majorly influenced my life yes i know i havent seen you since i was 5 and at the family reunion yes i know you dont remember my name idc thank you im gay too" and then they never talk again.
yuppp lmao that’s definitely something that could happen. i can also consider tim having no family members, like none. until he does like a dna test and he realises he has like an aunt living barely 2 miles away from him who’s like some illegitimate child of his grandpa.
I dare you one of them sends clark superman/clark fic and clark corrects the shit out of it and then goes like ps his dick is not that big, just telling as someone who has seen it. internet either explodes or goes who tf did he not fuck at this point.
i think everybody would call clark a buzzkill and try to cancel him over that.
so you're telling me Tim Drake wouldn't buy Starbucks?
no. dunkin donuts all the way
One of my favorite things is imagining people finding out jason came back from the dead and being like "oh no does he have magic powers now?!?!?" and he just pulls out a gun and tries to shoot joker
now he doesn’t even have the gun :) lmao
my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context
bruce gets codename ‘ugh’ everytime. he hates it.
crazy that tim being a 17 y/o ceo and a stoner who does brand deals are all actual canon things written in detective comics comics and not made up for shits and giggles by you, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb @rowdeyclown
SO CRAZY HUH?
batman au where everything is the same but his utility belt is bright pink
absolutely, but i raise you, his boots light up like sketchers when he kicks people.
unbeknownst to the superhero fandom writers in the dcuniverse, clark and BRUCE are one of the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag on ao3. clark writes the best lois x superman angst, full of unhappy endings and scenes that are a so detailed you'd think you were in the middle of a superhero beatdown. bruce made an ao3 account to fuel "the do the butts match" thing, and makes batman/bruce fics from time to time. he wrote a superbat fic as a joke but ended up making it REAL porny. @concrastinator
dude they’re WAY too busy for that. Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan on the other hand are the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag writing what is Mostly porn.
When the dining table topic gets to politics, Steph says "eat the rich" as the solution
bruce just silently takes away her fork and knife while she’s talking.
#literally if you got through this i just respect you#this is mainly just for the people who sent me an ask in the past few mask#i hope your ask is in here :)#sorry for everybody else#ask#bataranswers#this took me 4 hours to do so i hope youre happy#also sidenote#does anybody know the latin translation for 'to become'#bc i just used future of 'esse' but it could be a different verb#who cares tho latin is a dead language#big congratulations to everyone who translates my sentence#here's a bonus sentence: tuam matrem futueram
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no don't worry it was cute. made me smile at least. and sorry bout the late response, school work is kicking my ass.
true, guess it's not much of a "fake persona" if you basically know who i am. i don't think it's that "i'm not a real person" but there's less. idk. social risk? to the convo. if one of us really insults the other, worst case scenario the other just doesn't respond, and it doesn't really impact each other outside of this convo. that's probably why i sent my first ask anonymously, if you'd responded negatively, it probably would've just ended there. honestly without backlash. guess your therapist metaphor is fitting.
lmao yeah no, transitions who? just one topic to the other with me. keep moving forward right? and to be fair it's not like i didnt go back to flirting with you. guess i couldn't help it ;). and thanks! i was like "this gives off uwu im such a weirdo. im so quirky. not like other ppl uwu" vibes. which. ha, no. i don't care one way or the other how most view me unless im close to them, im gonna do what im gonna do. but it was sooo smooth. had to send it
hahahsghshd ok now i absolutely want you to try to compliment/describe me based on who you think i am because 1) im not great at taking compliments but i wouldn't exactly turn them down either ;) 2) if you get who I am wrong that'd be hilarious. but doesn't have to be a compliment. roast me if you want. just be honest. or lie n just describe the exact opposite or me, that'd be funny too.
idk maybe there's no real way to perfectly be aware of ourselves. if we're always trying to analyze our behavior, doesn't that impact it? at the end of the day, as long as we're trying to not be assholes, that's what matters right?
THIS ASK IS SO LOADED BUT IN A GOOD WAY I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND - plus my brain has been stuck in an air-fryer and while yes - these anon asks technically carry no risk - now that i'm pretty close to 100% sure of who you are... my flirting ability is out the window
it's the PRESSURE man, cuz I think you're super cool person and attractive is that creepy of me to say idk probably but you're cute bby
but you're right, no social risk, technically, kinda? worst case as you said: no reply obligated.
these "~normal people scare me~"-esque vibes are on point on though. "uwuwu ur so weird I love that hehe" - but to be fair I don't think you're actually WEIRD, whatever weird means.
and don't apologize for late replies cuz I will beat you in that game..... One Week Later - finally - a reply
I love your dyed blue hair though ;) such a cool style. 100% know who you are - on point, right?
but fr this is random but I like your music taste. saw a playlist you posted... somewhere. this is not me making shit up.
and is this a weird compliment but i like the way you type? talk? like sentence structure. if that makes sense. doesn't narrow down ~who you may be~ because I could just be talking about your anon asks but also. referencing overall. off anon too. unless you've never talked to me off anon and then well I'm wrong.
also you have a smart-person aura and not in a pretentious way - sheesh i'm not sapiosexual or anything - but like... you're an intelligent human being. and that's hot /jk?/hj? idk if I even know
that last paragraph sums things up though. I TRY not to be an asshole. you obviously try not to be an asshole cuz you haven't come across as remotely even asshole-adjacent. so yeah. that's life. we're characters (in a literal sense you kinnie) - human characters - with flaws and shit but. just don't cause the rumbling okay? pot calling kettle black. well - partly - you know what I mean.
but remember - i'm gay - but homoflexible for historia ;,,) brings up post from years ago about thirsting for fem-eren Is that flirting? Creep by radiohead starts playing in the bg - incel core remix
so: transition: let's go on an anon date. quiz time. love language = psychoanalyzing people by their music taste. favorite song/album of all time? assignment due by 11:59pm on Moodle.org.
#i really don't know how to reply to anything#my arrogant persona ruined smh here is the real me - enjoy#sheesh this comes off as me being shallow and incoherent.#but i enjoy ur vibes Anon#that is what i mean#that is my compliemnt#leave it or take it#no reply obligated#appreciated? probably.#do i get flustered over anon asks?#yes.#learned that about myself at least#lay it all that there for everyone to see
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Boba, please bully some of our shyer residents into posting selfies! I am dying for some Rarer Insta Content.
ok i’ll try here we go
@vixey-chakraborty KEEP THE COW CONTENT COMING BUT ALSO LET UR OWN NATURAL RADIANCE SHINE!!! I LOVE U PLEASE IM ASKING SO NICELY BUT ALSO VERY LOUDLY SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR
@rikuxnakayama sir i cannot keep buying overpriced coffee from [name redacted] just for the ten seconds of eye contact we have i simply do not make enough money have pity on me and POST
@vitani-blackwell u arent really shy so i dont understand how you are not posting daily thirst traps i have seen your body and therefore seen god please RESUME REGULAR CONTENT
@melody-the-unwritten typing ur username just now made me cry. :( melody i MISS YOu. melody i dont think u understand u could be miss swynlake if u wanted... this is your YEAR
@princess-ting-ting you post extremely quality pics of your fish and family jigsaw puzzles and stuff and thats valid and good plz dont stop but also you are the qin i respect in this world and i think you deserve to be told how beautiful u are js
@littlelectriceelduh ur mysterious and look like the boy my mum warned me about. plz indulge my worst desires and help me star in my very own all time low pop punk fantasy
@arista-the-musical BLASPHEMY that i am tagging a triton wtf did your sisters teach u!! arista when i say that i believe if you post selfies tagged #stopglobalwarming that it could maybe inspire a movement im not even being hyperbolic i think the power is in your hands and you should use it
@cinderellaashbourne HONEY PLEASE COME HOME tiana as her roommate why are you not instilling in ella the confidence needed to become a powerhouse insta mom im just saying she could build an empire off her smile
@babettexdurand seeing u makes me go 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 sincerely do not think there are words...
@evil--endeavors you want to be taken seriously as a business woman, totally fair! however, fourth wave feminism said stuff about idk owning ur sexuality or-- nvm dont do it for me do it for the young LESBIANS. also kick me in the face :)
@one-lucky-lad small confession...i have a crush on this darling I KNOW I KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING however i am not immune to the specific charms of his beautiful blue eyes. im just saying haha what if we kissed
@tink-bell tink used to post all the time but then she got her heart broken or something and i just think she needs to build up all that very valid fierce tink bell confidence she was famous for!! tink PLEASE give me the bed selfie i know you have! txt me u up ;) ? ask me to netflix and chill! also post on instagram obviously!
@sanmononoke what is going on with this person real talk besides ofc being very hot as per swynlake’s hotness requirement. idk if she has an instagram. bet she’d post like feet pics and shit like that. think that we need a little bit of that spice in swynlake dont you!!!
@moon-yeongjun frankly it is a crime that we are all collectively robbed of the journey that would be jun moon instagram experience. if you dont think he’s hot you’re lying to yourself!! new rule every time jun posts a petition he owes us a selfie its only fair idk im once again putting tiana to the task of making that happen
@notmuchofatail he’s been posting more lately but it is not enough for me. gregory eeyore is my past present and future. like im in love with him is what im saying.
@a-merman-not-a-guppy stop pretending like you’re not a handsome lad its EMBARRASSING. what is the point also of designing ur own clothes if you arent putting up your wares on instagram. again this is just common sense i cannot believe im giving this immaculate advice for free.
@notbad-justsungthatway again she posts decently but i think she should post more bc she is easily in the ten hottest people ever in swynlake. its a fact not an opinion and we’d all feel a lot calmer if she was active daily on instagram
@pinkpearlpark the coolest of the teens!! i need her to post so she can teach ME how to post. like idk what im doing teach me the ways of being an attractive rich cool person miss park!
@bucktoothed--ice-prince again idk whats going on here he’s this very mysterious stranger who blew into town out of nowhere. maybe going without an instagram is the whole point but i would rather write dumb things on ur posts tbh
@trickster-knownas-pan AND A THIRD person who i know nothing about. maybe i am just nosy but also you are hot so you owe me something thats how survival of the fittest works maybe !!!!!!! i failed science three times!!!!
@devyn-morey lol i know he posts a lot but obviously! obviously!
@geehosaphat on the other hand martin has two posts on his instagram maybe and thats abysmal. martin you do realize you’re like. hot right. i mean it like you could be in a magazine. you’re hot. take off your shirt sometime maybe if you’re comfortable so you can flaunt it!
@winndeavor again i know ur a serious business person who has a certain brand to maintain. on the other hand: you have abs. much to think about i know.
@hclyghcst DISGUSTING that you could win jewel of the season or w/e and then disappear from my life. you owe me like ten selfies at this point! you’re cute kind and a good friend to people in your life! fuck im obsessed with u!!
@vvinter-queen and now we shout out to her sister ANNA to help her. anna how is it that u have a moderately thriving bookstagram and yet elsa has no idea what a filter is. intervene. fix it. she’s beautiful. imagine how much ice cream u will sell.
@gleamdncglow u dont have to post bc it might actually piss me off considering how pretty you are. but if you want to i guess (please please please please please please)
@gabriella-marino you know what’s the best way to get to know ppl in town and make friends! yeah ur right, its thirst traps on instagram! i think you’re so cute on a serious note please tell me more about u...maybe in the captions on your thirst trap for instagram!
@edwardandalasia honestly just curious how it would go if someone showed edward who is maybe suffering from some textbook case of amnesia how instagram works. you also have the best skin ive ever seen. send me ur tips. ok thank u!!!
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We really need 1:1 time passage in games.
I play a lot of games. I particularly play a whole lot of RPGs, strategy things, survival games, and these all tend to be games that try to create an extra sense of immersion with hunger, thirst, and a day night cycle. And WOW do they ever end up doing the exact opposite with the implementation!
Like, let’s just start with food. If I am playing a survival game, and I choose not to eat for a while, my little hunger meter will bottom out, and I will start taking damage then eventually die. This tends to take like, one real life hour/in-game day, give or take to kick in, and then death comes within like, maybe 5 minutes if they’re generous? And I stave this off by... usually finding, killing, cooking, and eating, 2 entire turkeys per real hour/in-game day.
So... what the hell is any of that!?
So we have hunger, and we’re representing it as this slowly draining meter you have to keep an eye on. Already, that’s just weird. In my experience, you can go an entire day, not eating a damn thing, and not feel a thing out of the ordinary. But when you do actually get hungry, it can be overwhelming and impossible to ignore (have you eaten yet today by the way? My meal schedule’s gotten totally weird). Nothing about that makes sense to simulate as a slowly lowering bar. If you want realism, you have absolutely no onscreen hunger meter, and then like every 4-24 hours or so you have some incredibly distracting hunger indicator kick in and stay kicked in. Like, activate rumble packs and leave’em going at a steady pulse sort of annoying. And it gets worse when you’re actually preparing food.
Also feeling hungry is not an early indicator that you are going to suddenly die of starvation, or even that you’re anywhere near that point. I had dinner 6 hours ago, I’m a little hungry now. It varies a lot, but actually starving to death can take upwards of going TWO WHOLE MONTHS without any food at all. Like if we’re representing that as a meter, “hungry” kicks in when it drops to 99% full. Starvation is not a particularly common cause of death. If you’re dying of starvation, either someone is intentionally starving you to death, or some horrific catastrophe has just wiped out completely absolutely every potential food source in an area you somehow cannot wander your way out of even if you have months to do so. Relevant real world fact- Any time you see stuff about people dying of starvation, that’s never “farming just is not a thing that works in this area,” it’s “some malicious tyrant is actively preventing these people from accessing food in a deliberate effort to cause them to starve.” It’s really not actually a concern in any sort of survival story, unless we’re going real long term.
Meanwhile, have game designers ever actually, like, eaten food? Like I said, 2 whole turkeys per real hour/game day seems to be the going standard and like... have you had a turkey? I live in America, there is this tradition on Thanksgiving to go get a turkey, spend a day cooking it, and serving it as part of a meal served to one’s whole extended family. You’ve got that one turkey (granted, generally with a lot of side dishes) feeding like... a dozen people, easily. And at the end of the day, you’ve only MAYBE collectively made your way through like half a breast. You carve up a bunch more and send everyone home with a ton of leftovers. Then you’ve still got this giant mountain of turkey left, and you’re eating it for like the next week until you’re completely sick of turkey and throw the rest out, with plenty of meat entirely uneaten on the bird. Or hey, do you eat hamburgers? You know how the standard for a really kinda too big to responsibly be ordering it hamburger is “a quarter-pounder?” Which refers to the 0.25 lbs. of meat on the bun? Just quickly googling “beef weight” and copying the preview text from the oddly named first hit, on beef2live.com... “An average beef animal weighs about 1200 pounds and has a hanging hot carcass weight (HCW) of about 750 pounds.“ I can’t honestly say I know what “hanging hot carcass weight” is and I kinda doing want to, but I’m assuming that’s how much you have to work with after stripping out all the bones and organs and such. Multiply that by 4 to get how many oversized burgers you get out of one “beef animal” (why does it not say cow? I’m growing increasingly unsettled)- 3000 burgers. Give or take. You go smack that one Mnecraft cow with your sword, you should be fine for like 5 years. At least assuming we’re not simulating food spoilage. And if we are, HEY THAT TAKES SIGNIFICANTLY LONGER THAN ONE DAY, 2 IF YOU SALT IT!
And I mean, on top of that, we’ve got this whole standard I keep citing of 1 real world hour/1 in-game day. That kinda seems to be one of the more common standards for the passage of time video games use. That or 1 minute=1 hour. And I... really don’t understand why we have these scales?
Like, the earliest example of a day/night cycle in a game is Dragon Quest 3, where 1 steps on the over world map=12 minutes passing, or 120 steps=1 day. That’s a weird scale I’m having to use, but that’s because as the most traditional of JRPGs, DQ3′s sense of both time AND space are super abstracted and walking a short distance across the world map is this super compressed and simplified conveyance of a big long epic journey through the untamed wilderness. The first games I can think of offhand to really do it as a real time elapsed ratio thing are like... The Sims and GTA 3? Let me look at each of those in turn in a bit here.
So, The Sims has to pass days pretty quick, because that’s like, the whole idea. We’re watching this little household drama unfold in a compressed time scale... but the scale is really messed up? Like, we start off pretty simple. Sims work their shifts of like 9-5 on the in-game clock, need an appropriate amount of sleep... but then MOST things have timing based off having animations play at a reasonable pace, which is to say, 1 to 1 time, not 1 to 60. It takes like 3 in-game minutes for a Sim to get up out of a chair, several more minutes to walk to the kitchen and even start cooking, altogether just getting up, making a meal, cleaning up, and sitting back down is going to end up being this hours long affair, most of that being travel time from one room to another. It’s weird, and practically speaking you end up having them eat one meal, use the toilet once, and take a shower once per in game day, because less than that problems occur, and more than that, it’s a huge pain. And forget conversations. Those are like 12 hour commitments.
And then we have GTA3, where 1 real minute=1 in game hour... and this isn’t tied to anything in-game at all really. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, nothing really has business hours to deal with, the whole day/night cycle is just there to give you a nice cycling change of scenery... and also again, breaks immersion, because the animation speed is 1:1. According to a video I just watched, walking end to end across the map of GTA3 takes a full 48 in-game hours (121 in GTA5). And I mean... there’s races, and high speed chases, and all this other stuff that according to the in-game clock are at such slow speeds you can barely tell anything’s moving. It’s weird and arbitrary! And also unnecessary! Like, I’m pretty sure I sank at least 80 hours into my first playthrough of GTA3. I definitely spent enough time cruising around any given island that if time passed in a 1:1 ratio, I’d still see what everything looked like at every time of day. And hell if you rigged it up to a real world clock I could plan around that, do all the cool missions right at sundown.
But I mean, also, there’s these things called movies and TV shows? You may have heard of them, because it’s where games get a whole bunch of terms they use all the time. Like camera, and scene. So the thing there is, when, say, a movie switches to a new scene, they’ll often arbitrarily jump the day/night cycle ahead by several in-movie hours, or even days, so the lighting is appropriate to what’s going to happen in that scene. You can actually just... do that in games, too. It’s OK. Nobody’s going to stop you or say it’s breaking immersion. I talk to this guy to start this mission at what’s clearly noon, then we fade to back, and I come back out onto the street late at night so I can do this daring nighttime raid. That’s.. OK. You can do that. Honest. No need to have the sun doing crazy fast laps in the background.
Anyway, other games since have all copied that time scale, because blindly copying things from GTA3 was kinda... how people made games for a good stretch of time (and yeah yeah yeah, Elder Scrolls was probably already doing it, whatever... hell so was Robinson’s Requiem I’m pretty sure, and Drakken I know was paced something like that). But anyway, we mixed that sort of time scale with Survival Gameplay and we’re just kinda mashing these problems together. We’re doing everything in this one to one time scale, but the in-game clock is running at like 60 times that, and our already ridiculous food intake needs are downright absurd, and suddenly we’re destroying absolutely all life on sight to sate our ever-present ravenous hunger (and possibly never sleeping).
And like... survival games don’t actually need that? Like the interesting bits of the angle are finding sources of things like clean water and shelter so you don’t die of exposure once the sun’s down and stuff. And these are things you really just need to do once and you’re set. You could... basically set up a whole game, running in real time, where these are early potential fail states. Get some kind of shelter set up within the first 5 hours or so, sleep to advance straight to the next day after pulling that off, then you have like 3 days total to find drinkable water, and... honestly at that point we’re talking like a good 45 minutes of gameplay and you could really end it there, or start your last goal. But instead, no, we’re making some kinda crude axe/bow and killing everything to eat.
Not only is it not realistic, not only does it take me out of the experience by checking the math, the whole affair feels kinda like I’m being put through someone’s weird hyper-masculine cargo cult fantasy of what it would have been like if they grew up Hunting With Dad and like.... OK people who actually do that still kill like one animal, then drag it home, throw it in a big fridge, and eat it for quite a long time, or sell it, or leave it to rot because they’re just really into ending the lives of innocent creatures and don’t want weird gamey meat at all.
So yeah, just let time be time, and don’t ever actually make me eat if we’re trying for some kind of gritty realism thing. I really don’t get hungry nearly that often and fill up quick.
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Chris Chibnall ruined Doctor Who
Doctor Who sucks now. I’m sorry for starting this off with such a blatant statement, but we all know it’s true. And this angers me so, so much, because it used to be one of my all-time favorite shows, and now with a female lead it had so much potential, lost in shitty writing. Here we go.
I have to admit, I used to be one of the people against changing the Doctor’s gender. I thought it would be weird, that they were only doing it for PC reasons, etc. I changed my mind since then, but needless to say, I remained disappointed. I think that a female Doctor would have been a refreshing take on the character, it would have shut up people (like me at the time) and it would have made a lot more people take interest in Doctor Who. Jodie’s era could have been amazing, magical and revolutionary. But alas, here we are.
Jodie Whittaker’s first episode was watched by a little over 14 million people if I recall correctly. But why did the show fail in keeping that number? Simple: the writing sucks. Chris Chibnall is not a good showrunner. He took elements he knew of Doctor Who and tried to copy them, without understanding what made them special.
Let’s start with character development. The Doctor. There was a moment in Spyfall when Yaz says: “what would the Doctor do?”, and for the longest moment I thought… “what would this Doctor do?”, which is NOT something I should be thinking this far in Jodie’s run as the Doctor. It’s all been oh’s, wow’s, unnecessary exposition and not a single truly emotional moment, one that makes me feel like I know or relate to this Doctor. I feel like they tried to make a sort of female Eleven without everything that made him special. Jodie said multiple times “yeah, I can play an alien”, and of course, she could have. But the problem it’s not just about playing an alien. The Doctor is an extremely complex character, with extremely complex emotions. Emotions we are yet to see from her. And I am not saying she isn’t a great actress. I absolutely loved her in Broadchurch, a show that was also run by Chibnall. She is capable of showing emotional range. So why hasn’t she? Shitty writing. My guess? Chibnall is scared of criticism saying that this Doctor (a woman) is too emotional, criticism that wouldn’t have existed in previous Doctors' incarnations. Which is bullshit, and also leads me to my next point: the companions.
Having three companions may have sounded good in paper, but the reality is that none of them has had enough screen time to properly develop as characters. My guess? In the eyes of Chibnall (and probably the BBC, I don’t know), a team would lessen the controversy around the new Doctor. But they didn’t bother with them.
If someone asked you to describe Yaz or Ryan’s personality, what would you say? …Exactly. The only one worth watching is Graham, and even he hasn’t had a proper storyline. They tried to show more of their struggles in Can You Hear Me?, but here’s the thing. It is far too late in their arcs for this. At this point, it just felt way too forced. As someone with depression, It would have been great to see more of Yaz’s struggles with it, but just one episode is not nearly enough. Also, she connected with a police officer who we are never going to see again! Don’t you think it would’ve been better to see this development in her relationship with the Doctor? NONE of them have a strong friendship with her. They just say she’s amazing because she takes them places and shit. Not because they actually want to spend time with her. What are Yaz’s reasons to be there? She wanted to be more than just a cop that gave tickets, she wanted to help people, yet she just…left? And she has mentioned being a cop like, once since then. How does this make any sense?
Ryan was supposed to have dyspraxia, which hasn’t been mentioned since the bike thing, I think. It would have been great to see this being an actual part of his character and seeing him coping with it whilst traveling around in space and having dangerous adventures. But nope, they completely forgot about it, as well as his Youtube channel. Also, what are his motivations, his ambitions? Why is he there? In Can You Hear Me? we learn about his friend’s struggles with mental health, but again, shouldn’t it have had more impact coming from Ryan? A character we are supposed to care about at this point?
As for Graham, like I said, he’s the one with a more formed personality. He’s a goofball, he worries about the “kids” of the group, he’s a father figure. Great. But the problem is they presented him as wanting to travel with the Doctor to get over his grief, but they hardly show any of it. And there wasn’t any hint throughout the first season of him having any sort of thirst for revenge, so him wanting to kill Tim Shaw just came out of nowhere. But my biggest problem this season, was when he was opening up with the Doctor about his fear of his cancer returning and she just… said: “I’m sorry, I’m still socially awkward”???? WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL? There’s been plenty of times that we’ve seen this awkwardness. It is ALL we’ve ever seen from this Doctor. This was NOT the time to say this. This could have been a beautiful way for them to connect, to show more of the Doctor’s emotional side, yet what we got was a “suffer in silence bro, I’m so awkward lol”. REALLY? The Doctor has always shown compassion. Even if they don’t understand what their companions are going through, they are always there for them. Why would the writers think this was a good idea? It’s infuriating.
I’ve been watching a LOT of Youtube videos talking about why Chibnall’s run has been a disaster. I really liked one called “Is the Doctor a hypocrite?”, by B-WHERE. In the video, they essentially say that this Doctor’s moral compass is a mess. In Arachnids in the UK, for example, she somehow thinks locking up all of the spiders and letting the queen die suffocating is more humane than just killing them quickly, which is what the villain does in the end. Ummm? Okay? Listen, the Doctor has always faced difficult moral decisions, even scary ones, like in the Family of Blood two-parter. But as the video says, they’ve never claimed to have moral superiority. And maybe this could have been a more distinctive flaw in the character, a flaw that maybe her companions saw and disagreed with. Like Ten’s wake up call at the end of Waters of Mars. But no. Again, it’s just plain shitty writing.
Ok. Now... The Timeless Children. Jesus Christ. There are so, so many reasons this was the worst thing to ever happen to Doctor Who, but y’all are probably wishing for this rant to be over, so I’ll just mention two.
In over fifty years, we’ve NEVER needed an origin story for The Doctor. The show is called “Doctor Who” for a reason, the question that should never be answered. And they just go and shit all over one of the most beloved sci-fi shows of the twentieth century in a single episode. Again, this is mentioned in several videos, but I thought the same thing right after watching the episode: making the Doctor another “chosen one” goes against everything the show represented. The Doctor was an ordinary alien who was not very good at the Academy, ran away with a stolen TARDIS because he disagreed with the Time Lords way, and couldn’t even control where the TARDIS would go at first. The Doctor is an idiot in a box. The Doctor helps because he wants to; because it’s decent and kind. ANYONE could be like the Doctor. And now, it turns out he’s always been special. The Doctor is the reason why Time Lords regenerate. The character is basically a god now. Why is this a bad thing? This changes EVERYTHING, and yet, it WILL CHANGE NOTHING going forward. Ruth’s Doctor says so herself, it doesn’t change who the Doctor is. Oh, but it does. It changes who the Doctor WAS. None of it matters now, none of their sacrifices, it meant nothing. That’s what makes this so heartbreaking. And I had so much faith in this season. I actually enjoyed a few episodes, like Nicola Tesla’s Night of Terror. I thought they were going down the right path. But Chris Chibnall has ruined my favorite show in just one episode. My only comfort is that there’s still plenty of Classic Who episodes I haven’t watched. Those will be the ones I’ll look forward to.
(Also, that’s nOT HOW REGENERATION WORKS! IT DOESN’T BRING TIME LORDS BACK TO LIFE! IT HEALS/PREVENTS THEM FROM DYING WHEN THEY’RE IN PHYSICAL DANGER. GOD, CHRIS, WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID!) Okay, rant over, deep breaths. Thanks for reading!
#doctor who#the timeless child#13th Doctor#chris chibnall#rant#twoheartedslytherinwrites#twoheartedslytherin
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The Death of Me - YS
-vampire!reader, vampire!au, angst(?), fem reader
He had always known what you were - a vampire, a creature of the night - but it never fazed Yeosang all that much, you were one of their closest managers after all. Yeosang was the one who helped you reveal your vampirism to the boys and your co-workers, his humour breaking the news better than anything you could have thought. Out of everyone in KQ, you were the only one he trusted to call at 2 am when the morning's news of another vampire staking plagued his thoughts again. He knew it couldn't have been you, but still, what if it was? Seonghwa was who comforted him, holding the younger male and whispering nothings of 'Y/N Noona's going to be fine, don't worry~'
"Up late again Sangie?" You asked him in the morning, sipping on your flask of AB - like it was coffee- as the group stretched. He nodded as he stood up straight, Hongjoong beating him to the punch by pulling you over to the side. As the leader of the 8-member boy group, he was concerned for Yeosang's well being.
"What's the matter, Hongjoong-ah? You look concerned - is it because of Yeosang?" The sigh and nod from the male told you all you needed to know. He had pleaded with his manager a while ago to let you stay with them at the dorm for a few days, to which his manager agreed; it would probably do both parties some good. If the 'experiment' of sorts did work, you'd most likely start moving in with the boys after a while.
You scrolled through your phone as you popped out for some air, walking towards a convenience store. Putting your phone away after you stepped foot inside the brightly-lit store, you trailed the drink isles until your regular drink was nowhere to be found. Sighing, you decided to leave, only stopping where you were when something in the corner of your eye caught your attention. The store clerk was wearing a badge. A blood drop badge at that. Relief coated your face as you made your way over.
"How can I help?" They asked first, seeming particularly cheerful,
"Do you receive any AB donations? I'm on a work break right now and I kinda forgot to bring some with me" You asked - and admitted as the youthful-looking male in front of you blinked in confusion first before nodding in realisation. Nodding and sweetly asking you to stay put by the counter, he ran into the back to see where his manager had placed the box labelled 'AB'. In the meantime, you fiddled with a mirror you kept in your pocket, fixing a few stray hairs that fell in front of your face.
It had two hours since you left and Yeosang - and the other members - hadn't seen you since. You'd gone home for the rest of the day on your manager's advice, nursing a red moon craving and forgotten to inform your boys of the changes. Jongho had been keeping an eye on his hyung and had also been watching his phone throughout the day, just in case. While the other members had extra practise and things to do, Yeosang and Jongho were Scot-free for the rest of the evening.
"Hyung, let's just call Noona instead. Worrying like this can't be good for you at all." Jongho insisted, bringing his phone out of his jacket.
"Ok - you do have a point. She could've just been at home." The older agreed, looking for his phone which had been on charge. Unlocking the device, his eyes enlarged in horror as he read the breaking news headline that popped in his notifications. A group of vampires had been surrounded and brutally murdered, stakes driven through the heart as a 'calling card' of sorts. His hands were shaking as his feet remained plastered to the floor. It didn't help that one of the victims looked like you - almost too much like you.
"Hyung! What's wrong?!" The maknae's voice snapped Yeosang back to reality, as Jongho pulled the phone away and took a read of the article himself. Exhaling sharply, he exited the page in a heartbeat and wasted no time in searching for your number.
Red moon cravings weren't fun. Not at all - the uncontrollable red eyes, overwhelming senses, animalistic instincts; you had all the symptoms. But they had started to settle down and you were more than glad, especially when the phone started to ring. You answered it immediately, already knowing who was on the other line.
"Yes, hello?"
"Oh my God - Noona, you're okay?!" You heard Yeosang cry out in relief, a faint 'told you hyung!' and laughter emanating in the background.
"I'm fine Sangie - is Jongho with you as well?"
"Uh - yeah, yeah he is. Do you want me to put him on?" He asked, waiting for your reply at the other end of the line. There was nothing for a while, and he was starting to worry again - what was happening to you on your end?
"No, no, it's perfectly alright. Hold on - it should be the end of everyone's schedule, right? I'll pick all of you up, then we can go to the dorm. Sound good?" Yeosang hummed contently in agreement with your offer, hanging up the call with a weight lifted from his chest. You were alright, thankfully.
Driving through the streets of Seoul to pick up the boys in your mini-van, you switched off the radio and tried to take your mind off current events. Eyes sinking from brown into a deep red hue, you ignored it and continued to drive towards the entertainment building. It wasn't as if you'd had any personal connections to the victims, but as of quite recently, just hearing about the death of your kind had a tendency to set you off - intentionally or not. As KQ came into view, you parked up in the parking lot and stepped out, leaning against the door as you called your colleague, letting him know that you were ready to pick the members up.
"Hey, boys - ack!" You were cut off when the boys jumped you and engulfed you in a group hug, "I love you guys too~, now come on - we've got a dorm to be going to." They let you go after a while, bright smiles on all their faces. All piled into the vehicle, chatting amongst themselves the second you shut the door. Walking to the driver's side, your hand stopped at the handle when a searing cough ripped through your throat and chest - a blood craving taking hold. Although it had mostly gone unnoticed, Hongjoong, Yeosang and Jongho had spotted what happened and watched your behaviour with caution from their seats on the mini-van.
On the drive back to the dorm, you'd reached for your blood replacement tablets repeatedly - they were almost finished by the time you all collectively reached the dorm. As the Ateez boys left the mini-van, Hongjoong and his two younger group-mates, helping take your suitcase-worth of clothes inside and upstairs to the apartment.
"Alright. I'll be sleeping in the living room - my clothes can stay here." You announced as soon as you kicked your shoes off and set them aside, moving your suitcase to a corner of the room. It was late at night, so there wasn't much in the way of chatter as the boys dragged themselves to their rooms. Making yourself comfortable as you laid on the couch, you closed your eyes in a futile attempt to get any sort of sleep. Which, of course, didn't work - a desire to satiate that burning thirst stopping any rational actions. Getting back up, you found and opened your suitcase in the dark of the Ateez dorm, taking out what was considered the wine-bottle equivalent of blood.
"Noona? What's going on?" Yeosang's tired and raspy voice came from the entrance of the hallway, ruffling his hair while he squinted as he tried to make out your silhouette in the dark. His question pulled your attention away from the bottle and now the glass that was in your hands, setting it down on the table in the current dim lighting of the living room. In a wordless exchange, you patted the empty space beside you - inviting the awoken male to sit with you. Yeosang took the invitation and sat down, a comfortable five minutes of silence passing between you both.
"...Yeosang, you do know it's three am in the morning, right? What's keeping you awake?" You asked, after watching how his eyes would start to close every so often, only for Yeosang to open them sharply.
"I think it's all the news going around - my mind won't let my rest at all." He admitted, looking at his hands. Sighing as his thoughts ran freely, Yeosang picked up the AB bottle and observed it, a simple question popping in his mind that just had to be answered.
"Is there a difference?"
"Difference in what, Yeosangie?" He held out the bottle, indicating to clearly labelled blood type before placing it back on the table. Didn't blood just taste the same?
"Blood types Noona. Is there actually a difference?"
A few hours after you'd explained how blood types were different and how they affected personal taste, you'd found Yeosang fast asleep, head resting on the couch. With no real use for your blanket anymore, you covered the younger male with it and placed the pillow behind his head, moving his dyed-blond hair out of his face. But you stilled when the scent hit you - rich vanilla and caramel. Maybe it was because of the red moon, but self-control stopped being a thing you had once your gaze travelled to his porcelain perfect neck.
Yeosang's eyes awoke to your fangs grazing against his skin ever-so-slightly, just enough to startle him. That self-control which had gone out of the window made a sudden return and the realisation of the current situation had you spiralling back in fear of yourself. Eyes quivering in terror as you scrambled away, your breathing was heavy and uneven as you held your head in your hands. Were you really about to bite down into the male who you were the manager of?
'I'm a monster...I almost bit him. Why couldn't I stop myself? How could he ever trust me agai-'
"Noona! Calm down, you're shaking!" Yeosang had rushed over to your side, his hand rubbing your shoulder as he tried his hardest to get you to look at him. Breath hitching in your throat as his scent hit you once again, you shook your head at his pleas to look at him, looking away with your head hung, ashamed at your actions. During this exchange, the other members had started entering the living room as they awoke, only to be shushed by Yeosang before they ended up asking any questions that would make you feel worse than you already were.
Could you really control yourself around the members?
Everyone was lively and chatty during breakfast in the dorm - you'd offered to make scrambled eggs and pancakes to try and forget earlier's mortifying experience. Plating everything as you hummed, the boys thanked you gratefully and immediately got stuck in with their breakfast. As much as your vampirism meant food didn't taste as flavourful as it would, watching people enjoy your food made you feel just that little bit more normal. Just that little bit more, human.
A week had passed since then, and Yeosang could tell something was wrong - they all could. As their manager, you were perfect, but once work had ended, it was more than clear that you weren't in good shape. But you already knew this; you were doing this to yourself after all. You hadn't been feeding on purpose - not since you almost bit down on Yeosang. All your senses were dulled, mellowed and nothing felt the same. Zoning out for long periods had quickly become a regular occurrence.
It then became two weeks without a single drop of blood and Yeosang had seen you suffer for long enough. Conveniently, it was his off-day and he was determined to get you to have something. Finding you in the dorm kitchen with a book in hand, reading while a cough ripped through your throat every so often, the 20-year-old sat down and rested his head in his hands, watching you with concern in his eyes. You looked so...weak and fragile - and it broke his heart.
"...Yeosang? What - what do you want?" Your voice was hoarse, throat was dry and it made speaking all that much harder.
"Noona, when was the last time you fed? At all?"
"Uh - two weeks ago, I think. Why do you ask-" Yeosang cut you off by pulling you into a hug, moving his head to the side and bringing your face into the crook of his neck - where you could smell the scent of his blood as it flowed - more intensely than you ever had. You couldn't do it...you wouldn't do it. Not to him.
"I know you're hesitating. Please, please just do it. I trust you Y/N, and you can't be doing this to yourself anymore. It's not healthy." He wrapped his arms around you tighter, his pleas making you sigh in defeat. He was right, you knew he was; you'd most likely collapse without blood if you kept this up any longer.
"Thank you Yeosang - and I'm sorry." Sinking your fangs into his neck as softly as you could, you lapped at his blood feverishly, drinking your fill. His grip tightened and his breath shallowed as the blood left his body, but it was worth it. Stopping before you took any more, you cleaned the fresh wound and helped the younger male to the couch. With an airy giggle, Yeosang held onto you and tugged on your arm, pouting as he asked you to sit with him with his eyes. Complying, you sat with him as he laid his head on your shoulder.
"That hurt less than I thought it would - do you feel better Noona?" Even after having his blood taken from him, he was still thinking about your well being - how is he so lovely? Simply smiling, you nodded as you wrapped an arm around him.
"Much better Sangie. Thank you."
"Then you can feed on me more often!" He offered - well, more so stated, "Or I'll have to make you - depriving yourself isn't a good choice." Yeosang promised, dozing off as he spoke, a pleased a smile donned on his face.
"My God - you're going to be the death of me Kang Yeosang."
#Ateez#Yeosang#fic#This took forever I'm sORRY#Like ten pages in my notebook goddamn#So much fun to finish!
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Whumptober Day 23, 24: “Bleeding Out & Secret Injury”
Word count: 1610
Rating: T
Simon
“Fuck a nine toed troll!” I curse as I brush the furry grey creature off my shoulder and impale it with my sword. I tend to quote Penny when I do something stupid. Letting this creature get the drop on me was definitely stupid. Particularly given that it’s just taken a chunk out of my arm.
The animal is dangling from the tip of my sword, speared like a particularly gristly hors d’oeuvre. I bring it in for a closer look. It’s almost cute, vaguely guinea pig like, with grey fur tipped in black. Large purple eyes, green whiskers. Hell and horrors, it’s a polycythema vera.
Penny and Baz are going to kill me. Probably before this bite does.
They’re already angry that I took this job with the coven, rounding up invasive magickal species. Now I’ve gone and gotten myself bitten by one of the very species I was supposed to be hunting. This is just spectacular.
I flick the creature to the ground and stab it again for good measure.
Baz and Penny said they saw a vera in America, trying to get into Shep’s truck when we were escaping that rogue gang of freakish magical rejects in the dead zone. Somehow, one must have stowed away with us and now they’ve invaded England. Fortunately, the trolls rather think veras are delicious, so they keep the population in check. However, pockets tend to accumulate in the areas with fewer bridges. The Coven stepped in to help eradicate them and they asked me to help. I suppose that makes me a magickal pest control guy.
Veras aren’t particularly magickal. I think they can teleport for short distances, making them tricky to catch. They pack a nasty bite though. Their toxin does something to your spleen, making you bleed out internally, only your body keeps making more blood. So instead of passing out and dying like a normal person, you just sort of slowly fill up with blood til you like, explode or something. I haven’t really worked out the logistics.
Now I’ve been bitten.
I am not telling Penny and Baz.
Now that I’ve gotten my shit together (thank you new therapist) they have only recently stopped hovering over me. The last thing I need is them wringing their hands while I die a slow painful, possibly explosive death. I suppose I’ll say my goodbyes when things get bad and die alone in the woods, like a cat.
In the meantime, I imagine I should live my life to the fullest. Carpe diem and whatnot.
Baz:
Something is going on with Simon. He’s acting strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, it all just seems a bit…much. We’ve been out almost every day, a different activity. Yesterday, a leisurely tour of the British Museum, followed by curry and samosas in the park (he made me eat). He also made me return the books I stole all those years ago (I can’t believe he remembered that). Saturday was a visit to Ebb’s grave, deep in the wood. Last week we went to Paris, because he’s never been to France (he says the Watford sour cherry scones are still better than any French pastries).
It’s all been enjoyable; he’s been very attentive.
To me.
Loving, affectionate, present.
But it’s weird.
All of this significance. It feels a bit like a bucket list.
I’m trying to enjoy it, but I’ve been feeling off. Not myself. Like I can’t get warm and I can’t get full. I’m thirsty all the time, and nothing I do seems to be helping. I’ve eaten all the rats within a 20-kilometer radius and I’ve even resorted to buying blood from the local butchers. Nothing is helping.
I can’t get Lamb’s voice out of my head, telling me I was malnourished.
I refuse to follow that thought. I’m not—that.
But I’m also getting really tired. Like, exhausted. Like ‘it’s a struggle to get out of bed’ level tired.
I don’t know how much time I’ve got left.
Simon:
The poison is kicking in. I’m so tired.
Exhausted. Like, I feel as if my arms and legs were lead weights- tired. Dead dog tired.
I’m not sure how much time I’ve got left.
I don’t have to think about that right now because I’m actually in bed. With Baz, and there’s no place I’d rather be.
I’m the big spoon, because I’m always the big spoon. With my arm across his chest I pull him closer and hike my leg across his thigh. I carefully brush his hair away from his ear so I can murmur, “fancy a lie in?”
“Absolutely yes,” Baz croaks, voice thick with sleep. He intertwines his fingers with mine.
We both doze off.
Baz:
I wake before Simon. It’s an effort just to open my eyes.
I look at his arm, wrapped around my waist. His color is wrong, his once tawny skin is a vague mottled purple, how have I not noticed this?
Simon:
I open my eyes and look at Baz’s shoulder in front of me. He’s so pale he’s almost transparent. He’s thinner, I can see the bones poking through his skin. How have I not noticed this?
Baz rolls over and fixes me with his thundercloud eyes. “What the fuck is going on, Snow?”
“Er—what do you mean?” I’m stammering, this isn’t how I’d planned this to go.
“You’ve been dragging me through this virtual bucket list lately, you’re acting weird and now you’re purple!”
“It’s not a bucket list.” It is a bucket list.
“Answer the question.” Baz is using his “don’t fuck with me” voice.
Time to come clean then. I pick at an imaginary string on the duvet. “I may have been bitten by a vera.”
Baz’s eyebrows go down and he looks like he’s going to finish me off himself. “What? When? When the fuck were you going to tell me?”
My plan suddenly feels very stupid. “Well, I was going to tell you, when I felt… you know, closer to death.”
“Closer. To. Death?” Baz’s voice cracks. He looks extra murderous.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to feel all sad and melancholy just because I was dying,” I reason.
Baz sighs and buries his head in my chest. “Simon, you splendid fucking moron.”
I think it might be safe to wrap my arms around his waist and pull him on top of me. I try it.
Baz raises his head and his fangs are popped. Not safe then. “Er—I’m not ready to die just yet, Baz.”
His hand goes to his mouth, I don’t think he realized his fangs were there. “Merlin, I’m a mess,” he says this giddily. “You’re a mess,” he’s laughing now. “We’re a mess squared,” he giggles, it’s a bit manic. He lays his head back on my chest.
I pat his back and smile awkwardly, I don’t laugh. I might blow.
Baz lifts his head again, wiping his eyes. “You see,” he stammers, “I have a problem.”
“OK…?” I offer.
He sits up a little, straddling me. He traces my scars with a long, pale finger. “I’m—starving.”
“Well, let’s order delivery then,” I grab his thighs to push him off so I can find my phone. He plants himself, hands to my chest and I can’t move. Vampire strength.
“No love, it’s not that,” he looks down, takes a breath then looks back at me. “I’m starving—of thirst. “The animal blood doesn’t seem to work anymore…” his voice trails off.
“Oh,” my mouth is hanging open, even though Baz has thoroughly trained me to close it.
“So here I am, the bloodthirsty vampire, dying of thirst,” he cracks up again, “with my half dragon boyfriend who is literally dying of excess blood.” He chortles and wipes his eyes again, “it’s like a goth Hallmark movie special. A match made in hell.”
He’s giggling, but he also looks a little sad.
“So,” I say, once he’s caught his breath. “Just so I have this straight,” I point at him, “you don’t have enough blood.” I point at myself, “and I’ve got too much of it?”
“Yes, that about sums it up,” Baz concedes.
Blimey, what are the odds?” I wonder.
“A million to one, I’d wager,” Baz sighs.
“Well, what are you waiting for, you barmy git? Come over here and bite me.”
“It’s not that simple, Snow.” Baz is frowning at me again.
“It bloody well is that simple, Baz,” I say feeling sparks of anger.
“What if I Turn you?” It’s almost a whisper.
“Shepherd said that most vampires don’t Turn people, and so what if you do? I’m going to die anyway if you don’t do anything. At least this way, you’ll get a good meal out of it, and we can figure out the rest later. We’ve been through worse.”
Baz pushes my hair off my forehead, “we have been through worse.”
I reach up and pull Baz back down on top of me. He settles on my chest. We’re nose to nose. I run my thumbs along his cheekbones. “Now come on and bite me. You look like shit you know.”
“Thank you, Snow. You’re looking rough and weedy yourself.”
I kiss him then, even though that’s probably not a good idea, given the blood lust.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“No.”
“Will you do it anyway?”
“Yes.”
“I love you, Baz.”
“I love you too, Simon.”
I close my eyes, and then, in a rush of warmth and cedar and bergamot, Baz bites my neck.
#whumptober2019#whumptober 2019#whumptober day 23#whumptober day 24#carry on#wayward son#wayward son spoilers#sort of#not really#simon snow#baz pitch#pardon my grammar#pardon the typos#non beta'd
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Hi Rain!! So sorry this feedback is kinda late, I just feel I needed to really do October 1865 justice cus it was hands down one of my favorites thus far!!! The whole thing, from beginning to end, was so thoughtfully written. Like when she finally dons the pink hanbok and is inspecting her appearance in the mirror and wishing her mom was there for advice/guidance really hit hard. Like she really is all alone in this great big palace with no family and minimal friends. And I find that I’m always
PLS DON’T APOLOGIZE & TAKE ALL MY LOVE INSTEAD AHHHHH 💖💖
rooting for our dear mc, she feels like an underdog to me. Quiet, demure, poised, low ranking, but incredibly sweet and giving. “So far, you’ve begrudgingly won a few scraps of respect from the male physicians, and it’s a start.” LIKE YES GIRL GET IT. And when Yoongie comes to her door to get her?!? The equivalent of a man getting out of the car and walking to your door to pick you up on your date. LOVED IT.
WAIT I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THIS BUT UR RIGHT LMAOOOO
And the description of his appearance was perfectly detailed- I can imagine exactly what he looks like!! Well done. He truly is “unfathomably handsome.” I especially enjoyed the lil tidbit of the two of them looking suitable for each other despite their marked difference in social status and rank. As if, at least for the night, they’ll look like they belong together. It warms my heart. I love that this Yoongi is still lighthearted with the way he jokes with Eunuch Kim. It’s so nice to see him like this, but continues to make me wonder what else happened to him to change him so drastically???
*slow, calculating laughter here* heheh i’m glad u enjoyed the clothing bits though! that’s one of my favorite aspects of the history to research :’)
Her excitement to see the Chuseok festivities is so palpable, and when she realizes “oh god, you just made the prince run” I WAS CACKLING HAHAH and the Jinkook appearace!!!!!!!!!! I WAS HOWLING. I love that you kept the basic appearance of the two from the mv. What a creative way to weave them into the story!!! “the bearded one looks about seconds away from giving the other younger man a good smack with the fishing rod leaning on the wall behind him.” HAHAHA SCREEEEEAM their competitiveness and banter is perfectly written!!! “Yah, you can take your beans and shove them right up your nasty sokgot… I’ll take two orders of each. Preferably not ones shoved anywhere.” I’M ACTUALLY DYING. The dialogue here is hilarious!!
me: sobbing because humor is so hard & you are so kind T_T
And the way Yoongi passes off the treats to mc and Eunuch Kim!! And when they get mistaken as a couple by her mother’s old friend?!? CLASSIC. I’ve found that old ladies literally give no fucks. I had a patient who would thirst over the same co-worker that I did (and yk, fair, cus he looked like an older, taller JK) She was shameless about it and I wanna be her when I get older haha
FDSLKDAFS MOOD I WOULD TOO HAHAHAA have u SEEEN JUNGKOOK LATELY??? that BUN? THE SHEER SHIRTS? im D E A D. PHEWW. but seriously old ladies never change, no matter the era HAHAH
ok, but one of the best parts is Eunuch Kim losin his cool over Chun-ja. The way he nearly drops his jeon and is soooo flustered has me so heart eyed for him. I’m so happy to finally be meeting this lucky woman who has ensnared our beloved Eunuch Kim’s heart!! And those letters?! Ugh, I am so fond of hand-written letters. They’re so nostalgic and personal and no one seems to do it anymore.
heh i’m glad u like letters because-- oop i wont say anything more ;)
Don’t think I didn’t notice that Yoongi chose the bracelet she was eyeing. But are we gonna see him give it to her?? Or does he just secretly have it slipped into her room, cus that would be SUCH a yoongi thing to do. My favorite part though, if I HAD TO CHOSE, was probably the ending scene at the pond. I feel like this is the first time they’ve had the chance to have a REAL conversation. And how her theory that some things in the world are out of their control but can change in their favor if they never give up. Seems like it parallels their predicament perfectly.
you may be the only person who’s picked up on that conversation FDASLJKAS but yes, it truly is ;-; i absolutely adore those quiet moments between the two of them & writing this one was... phew a ride and a half. there’s a lot of subtext there 🤣
But I need to know!!! WHAT DID THEY WISH FOR?!
iono 🤭 (youll find out later)
Ugh sweet Yoongi is killing me. I love him, but damn knowing what he’ll become in the next few years has me heart broken. As always, well done Rain. What a chapter to come home to after a long weekend of work!! I’m so appreciative of your writing. Your page is always such a safe and comforting space. Your positivity and kindness really reinforce my idea that you’re a wonderful human being. I hate that you had rude ass anons leaving their trash comments in your asks. As King Yoongi would say, “they’re peasants!” fuck the haters, bubs, and keep shining. You’re a fantastic writer, and I hope that you keep writing what inspires you, and deliver it the way you want!! I know I’ve said it before, but I feel I need to say it again, but I LOVE the way you decided to present MLT. I LOVE the drabbles and the timeline. It’s unique and fresh and will always remind me of MLT. ILYSM, Rain!! As always, please accept all my love and adoration!
sighhh you are so so so lovely. thank you for taking all this time out of your busy life to send me this. it just warms my entire heart. please don’t worry abt my anons; they’ve actually been pretty nice!! i havent ever had a mean anon ever in my inbox or anyone purposefully being cruel in my comments so my frustration was more at seeing how my friends are contiuously disrespected for providing their FREE content. AGH. and they get rebuked if they reply with annoyance, which they deserve to do after being pestered over and over again!!! someone said they had 20 asks in their inbox asking for updates and AGGGGHHH !!! that makes me wanna tear those anons a new one. but anyway. it’s wonderful people like you that keep us going & i wish i had a better way of giving you my gratitude because it doesn’t feel like enough. thank you 😭💗 pls take this happy boy and i hope you have the fantastic day you deserve!!!!
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Love at First Bite
This is my first story so please be nice. I accept criticism but please be kind about it. I am humen after all and have feelings. This is a oc x oc. I tried writing it reader x oc but I just couldn’t seem to figure out how and get comfortable with it.
Summery "Love me, " his hands trailed down her arm, the sleeves of her long sleeve green shirt crinkling up beneath his hands as he did so. His cold breath brushed against her sensitive neck as her nose up in disgust at the metallic smell of his breath. "Bite me, " she shot back tone filled with venom, but yet she didn't move away from his gentle touch.
When it comes to love and loss, acceptance is never easy. (Unknown)
Warnings: None
Word Count: 893 (It’s short i know. My bad)
Prologue: A Glimpse in the Future
A man around his late twenties to early thirties was hunched over a body of the woman that he loved. His hands that he couldn't stand being dirty were covered in her blood from using his hands to applied pressure on the woman's stomach. Hovering over the belly of the woman he loved, he silently prayed to the gods he long ago gave up believing in. Prying for them to save her, to show mercy and save the only woman who didn't see him as the monster that he was. But a man that he didn't think he could be once again not after all those years that passed by faster than a blink.
The man prayed and prayed while listing to the whimpers gasp of air from his lover. The one who was laying down on the cement stain with her blood with blood as it continues to gush from the gnarly wound in her stomach. The shirt she wore was torn in the middle to get to the life-threatening injury. Soft pants left her as she watched him try to save her life as tears ran down his face. She knew that with every minute that passed away, her life was slipping just as fast as the blood that was rushing out of her.
"Noah," she gasped, clutching onto his hands that were pushing down on her stomach, as pleas left his lips, asking for her to hold on a little more while. He gave up on praying to the merciless gods. Now he was pleading for her to not go. To not leave him in this cold, harsh world all alone without her. That she would be ok and was going to make it. '
But she knew she didn't have long, not when she couldn't feel the pain in her stomach. The pain she should be feeling instead of the numbness that was spreading, numbness. The cold was taking over the blinding pain she had felt until she couldn't feel anything but the tears of her love as it dripped onto her face.
"No," he said," No," he repeated as his answer to her gasp of his name, the only word he could force out through his clenched teeth. He only knew what she was going to say. Someone how, she was going to try to convince him to leave her behind. But he wasn't going to leave her, no matter what.
Noah closed his eyes, the sight of the blood, and the heavy scent of it greeted his nostrils as his stomach clenched in pain. His throat was starting to burn, and he knew his eyes were beginning to turn black, the like the monster he was. Hence why shut his eyes, one of the ways to avoid the hunger that was creeping upon him, for she wasn't some other victim or a meal Noah could bing on. She was the woman he loved, the woman that went through the highest and lowest to be with him. How could he think about draining her when she was laying in his arms, dying.
"You need to leave," the woman was the one who pleaded this time, for she could see the sun rising in the sky, turning what was the dull grey of black into the warming threatening pink of the morning sky. If he didn't leave and get to shelter, she wasn't the only one who was going to die here on what was a battlefield between monsters and the ones who hunts them.
"Shut up, shut it, there's no way I'm leaving you," the man hissed out, his eyes that were now open gazed down at the blood between his hands and raised his head as he glared into her green eyes. His dirty look wasn't angry but fearful, afraid that she was going to die any minute, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.
"You have to, please, Noah," she gasped out as he shoved his hands harder on her stomach. Trying his best to slow down the blood flow. While at the dull points of his teeth sharpened and grew in length. At the smell of her tempting sweet blood that was decorating his hands in red. The sweet smell beckoning the beast inside of him to take one zip, promising that one tiny little zip wasn't going to hurt anything or anyone.
Noah was no fool, and he knew she was dying; he could hear the wheeze of her overworked lungs, the weak beat of her heart, and the lack of warmth of her body gave it all away. (And if he dared decide to drink from her it would only cause her to decline faster than she was right now)
But Noah wasn't one to give up, there was one thing he could do to save her and if she hated him, so beat it. He rather have her alive and hating him than dead and rotting in a grave.
"You need to go; it's too late for me, don't let it be too late for you."
"No, it's not," he whispered, a solution forming in his mind as he slid, his hands from her stomach. From the lack of pressure on her wound, the blood was coming out like spilled water, and the monster in him was rearing its ugly head up in thirst.
Her face, if possible, grew even paler once it dawned on her what he was planning. Weakly pushed her hands against his muscular chest as he drew her into his arms. Ignoring the way the blood bled into his shirt. He easily beat her arms away with one arm as the other swept her thick, wavey hair from her intoxicating neck. Her whimpers of fear were faint and buzzing in his ear as he nosed at her throat.
"Noah, don't," she plead, hysterical in her voice when she could feel his cold breath brushing against her neck, the only part of her that wasn't covered in blood, but that was going to change soon.
"It's the only way you'll live," he lashed out and took her hand in his larger one to keep her from hitting him. Noah didn't have that much time left to fight against her. The sun was coming up, and her heartbeat was slowing down by each minute that passes by. But Noah was lucky because if she were at full strength, she would be beating his ass for what he was trying to do to her. But she was dying, and she didn't have the power to do so.
"I will rather be dead," she protested, squirming in his hold, but it didn't phase him from his plan or away from her fragile neck.
"Please forgive me, my love, but I rather have you alive than buried six feet under," he rasped out as an answer as he brushed a cold thumb against her soft cheek in hopes of calming her down the sightless. Right as his sharp dagger-like teeth drugged into the softness of her neck
#imagine#oc tag#original story#vampire#romance#writing#monsters#forbidenlove#vampire x vampire hunter au#vampire x human#werewolfs#angst with a happy ending#blood#writing writing writing#writblr#unrequited love#loveislove#sadbeautifultragic#fluff#original writing#original work#undead#enemys#hatelove#lovehate#vampires#myths#fiction#shortchapters#long chapter
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Take Me Out to the Ball Game
A little backstory about this fic - Rooker was in a Budweiser commercial way back in 1984. You can watch it here. Rookerstash (who unfortunately isn’t on Tumblr anymore) suggested amongst the Rooker Hookers that we needed a smutty scenario about the “Cute Beer Can Hat Guy” (as we affectionately called him)...here’s what I came up with.
And once again thank you to @merlesgirl47 , @celticheart72 and Rookerstash for reading this and giving me the courage to post it.
Warnings - NSFW, Smut
It was a picture-perfect day in Chi-town – the sun hanging high in the clear blue sky, a balmy temperature of 72 degrees, a pleasant whisper of a breeze on the air. It was a beautiful day for baseball. Or at least it would have been if the blind date your bestie had set you up with had actually shown. Your friend had been nagging you for weeks to let her set you up with her new co-worker. “He’s sooooo sweet,” she said. “He’s suuuuch a nice guy. He’s perfect for you!” You finally agreed, a little out of curiosity to meet this so-called wonderful guy and a little to finally get her to shut up.
After waiting for him outside the left field gate of Wrigley Field well into the 1st inning, you soon got the hint.
Well, this is just great, you thought. You know what? I give up. You had made up your mind. There weren't any “nice” guys left in the world.
You thought about heading home and drowning away yet another misfortune in your unlucky love life with a pint of ice cream and a good book. But you had already bought a ticket to the game. It had been ages since you had been to a Cubs game. Plus, it was too pretty of a day to spend moping about inside your cramped apartment. So, you picked your chin up and waltzed into that stadium head held high. You weren’t going to let that guy ruin your day.
You found your seat on the third base side and sat content for a while, enjoying all the sights and sounds that come with a ball game. Around the top of the 3rd inning, you were dying of thirst. You got up and went off in search of a concession stand for an ice-cold soda.
You pushed your way through the mob of fans and got in line at the first concession stand you came to. The line must have been 30 people deep, all crammed together like sardines in a can. Finally, after waiting for what felt like a month of Sundays you made it to the front of the line and ordered your soda. As you walked away, someone in quite a hurry bumped into you, spilling beer all over your arm and shirt.
A little peeved, you were just about to give that someone a stern talking to about watching where they were going. However, that all vanished when you looked up and were met with the most gorgeous set of blue eyes you had ever seen, albeit hidden under the bill of a silly novelty baseball cap with a beer can squashed onto the top.
The eyes belonged to a man around 30 years old you figured, holding a hot dog and a half-filled cup of beer, the other half now soaking into your shirt. He was a little taller than you, a handsome face with a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones, and brown curly hair hidden under that hat. He wore a patterned, green short sleeved button up shirt, the first few buttons undone giving a peek of his nicely toned chest, and his khaki shorts hugged him in all the right places.
Your heart literally skipped a beat, something that had never happened before when it came to men. It was instant chemistry, and from the way he was looking at you, you could tell he felt it, too.
He snapped out of it and immediately began apologizing profusely.
“I'm soooo sorry,” he exclaimed. You quickly took notice that his voice was sexy, too.
He moved his beer to his other hand, trying to juggle both the cup and his hot dog at once, and grabbed for a wad of napkins he had stuck in his back pocket. He handed them to you still apologizing.
“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it,” you assured him. “It's partly my fault, anyway. I should have been paying more attention.” You took the napkins and wiped your arm dry and then started to dab at the wet spot on your shirt.
“I just..just didn’t want to miss any of the game. I guess I wasn’t watchin' where I was going. I really am sorry. Let me make it up to you. Um...” He looked around frantically trying to figure out what on earth he could do to make this better. He pointed to a little vendor cart selling Cubs t-shirts. “I know, let me buy you a new shirt! So you can get out of that wet one.”
“No, it’s fine, I promise. It really is ok.”
“C’mon, there’s gotta be something I can do.” he pleaded.
You had never seen a man as beautiful as the one who currently stood before you. And the fact that he wore that dorky hat made him even more attractive. Something deep inside told you this was fate. Out of all the people in the stadium, he was the one that ran into you. Surely, it wasn’t just a coincidence.
You scanned your eyes across his hands – no wedding ring. But, surely a guy like him was taken. You were about to find out at least. You had an idea how he could repay you, but it would muster all the courage you had.
“What about you letting me watch the rest of the game with you?” you asked timidly, praying he wasn’t at the game with his girlfriend. You were never this forward, but you didn’t want to lose him just yet.
He obviously never expected that answer and fumbled over his words. “Um, y-yeah..I..uh..yeah..absolutely, c’mon. It's just me and my buddy, and you’re more than welcome to join us.” The look of shock on his face faded into a crooked grin as he turned to lead the way. Your heart melted a little more.
You followed him through the crowd, not minding when you got a little separated on the way. It allowed quite the view of his cute butt in those tight shorts.
When you got to his seat, he introduced his friend who also happened to be a co-worker.
“This is Frank. Frank, this is..um..sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
You introduced yourself to Frank just as your new love interest sat down, quickly drawing your eyes back to him. The way his shorts scooted up his thighs a little when he sat down, the fabric tightening over his crotch revealing a nice bulge, you couldn’t turn away. It was suddenly really hot in Wrigley Field.
You made small talk at first, both of you a little nervous but becoming more comfortable as time went by. Soon, you lost all concentration on the game, focusing your full attention on the blue-eyed, curly-haired dream that had accidentally stumbled into your life.
You learned his name was Allen. He was a city bus driver by day, and by night, an up-and-coming actor, the hot new item on the Chicago theater scene. He had been a Cubs fan since moving to Chicago as a teenager, and he made sure to catch at least one game a week during the season, usually with Frank.
Over the next couple of hours, you got to know one another as much as two people could in that brief span of time, and before long, you both seemed like old friends. And Allen actually listened to you when you spoke and was genuinely interested in what you had to say, something that until now the previous men in your life never did.
When Allen talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You were discovering he was just as beautiful on the inside as out. He was respectful and polite, the perfect mix of sweet and a little shy, humble, charming and funny. And that laugh of his? You hoped you never had to go another day without hearing it.
There was no denying you were falling for him.
Now, there was also no denying the sexual tension between the two of you. Since the moment you first laid eyes on him, you had been trying to brush aside the ever-growing feeling of wanting to know what he looked like under his clothes, to sleep with this man you had just met and barely knew. That feeling was getting harder and harder to ignore.
At some point during the conversation, Allen's bare leg accidentally brushed against yours. You swore you felt a spark, an electric surge tingling through your body from where your skin had touched. He looked down mid-sentence, losing his train of thought for a second, before turning to you and smiling. He felt it, too.
By the 7th inning stretch, the stands began to empty as spectators slowly started trickling out of the stadium. The Cubs were down by 12 runs, and it wasn’t looking good for a late-in-the-game rally.
Frank slapped Allen on the shoulder and stood up to leave.
“Alright, Al, I’m headin’ out. Game’s a bust, and I got an early route in the morning.” Frank extended his hand towards you. “It was really nice meeting you. And, hey, don’t let this clown give ya’ too much trouble, hm?”
You smiled and shook Frank’s hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” You looked at Allen and swore you saw a little redness appear on his cheeks.
Thankfully, Allen didn’t give any impression that he was ready to leave. You certainly weren’t.
More and more people left, but, unfortunately not the group of drunk bozos in the seats in front of you. At first, it had been fairly easy to ignore them. But they had been getting gradually louder and more obnoxious with every beer they downed – throwing Crackerjacks, cursing, heckling the visiting team's left fielder. They were a real bunch of charmers.
At the bottom of the 8th, the Cubs third baseman was up to bat. He swung on the first pitch, and a loud crack echoed across the field, the unmistakable sound of the ball coming in contact with the sweet spot of the barrel. You knew that ball was going over the fence somewhere. It was a futile effort, the visiting team having scored three more runs in the top half, but it was a homer nonetheless. And you saw the ball heading straight for your section.
The ball was moving like steel to a magnet straight for you. You and Allen stood up in anticipation, Allen's baseball glove at the ready. You put your old softball skills to work and reached up, the ball landing flawlessly right into your hands.
It was just your luck that the three drunk bozos had also jumped up to try to snag the ball. The guy directly in front of you snatched the ball from your hands as soon as you caught it. His pals hooted and hollered, congratulating him, clapping him on the back like he was the one that had made the catch.
Allen immediately saw red. “Hey, man! That’s hers!”
The drunk guy turned around and glared at Allen. “Yeah? Whatchu gonna do aboudit?” he slurred. “How's about you and your ‘lil bitch just sit the fuck down ‘fore I make ya'.” He pushed Allen hard in the chest, nearly knocking him backward against the seats.
Allen’s Irish blood boiled over. The tendons in his neck tightened and he gritted his teeth. If this fucker wanted a fight, Allen was happy to oblige. He drew back his fist, seconds away from clocking the drunk bastard across the face when you grabbed his arm. You shook your head no. “It’s not worth it. C’mon.” You took his hand and started to lead him away, the trio of drunk guys still hurling insults at your backs.
Allen protested, “But..but..that ball’s yours! You caught it fair and square. And I’m not gonna let that little shit talk about you that way.” He was pissed no doubt. But you had plans to take his mind off being angry. All of your feelings that had been building for Allen the last couple of hours were already at a peak and this incident just sent them exploding over the edge. The way he had just stood up for you, outnumbered and risking getting his ass kicked for a woman he had just met, it was making your panties wet just thinking about it. You wanted him, needed him right then.
You led him out of the stands desperately trying to find the nearest restroom or unlocked utility closet, anywhere that would give the two of you some sort of privacy.
The first available option was a men's bathroom. You barged through the door, Allen in tow. Luckily, attendance had dropped a great deal in the ballpark so the bathroom wasn’t crowded. There was one man, however, washing his hands at the sink. You gave him a glare and he hurried to dry his hands and swiftly shuffled out the door.
Your heart was pounding. You don’t do this. This isn’t you at all. But ecstasy had officially taken over. There was just something about Allen that you couldn’t wait another second to feel his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, caressing places on you begging to be touched.
You yanked him into a stall and slammed the door, locking it behind you. Allen’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but from the hardening bulge in his shorts, you could tell he was game.
“Are we really doing this?” he rasped. You pulled off your shirt and draped it over the stall wall. Allen’s eyes grew large. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gulped.
“That was so fucking hot what you just did.” You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him to you, kissing him hard on the mouth and nearly knocking off his stupid beer can hat.
Allen tangled his fingers in your hair, moaning against your kiss as you palmed his bulge and rubbed him over the fabric of his shorts. You quickly broke away from his lips to unbutton his shirt, pushing it back over his broad shoulders. He shuddered as you traced your fingers across his chest down to the lean muscles of his belly. You kept going, undoing the button and zipper of his shorts and tugging them down, his dick springing forward, already dripping from the tip.
He was just as beautiful underneath his clothes.
Everything was happening in a heated frenzy. As much as you wanted this to last, to take your time exploring every inch of Allen’s body, time was of the essence. It was only a matter of time before someone walked in on your little rendezvous.
Allen helped you shimmy out of your shorts along with the lacy red panties you had worn, now soaked with your arousal. He cursed under his breath and pushed his knee between your thighs, using his leg to sweep yours apart. He reached his hand down to your apex, circling your clit with his thumb before gliding one, then two fingers inside the silken curls of your core. You purred beneath his touch, grinding yourself against his expert fingers.
“Allen, I want you so fucking bad,” you begged.
He pulled his hand away and grabbed beneath your thighs with both arms, lifting you up and pressing you against the stall door. You wrapped your legs around him as he pushed inside, molding your body with his.
Allen grunted and buried his face against your neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin there as he began to thrust, slow at first but then quickening as he found his rhythm. You tried to be quiet, but you couldn’t hold back the sounds of pleasure as he plunged his hips into you over and over again, withdrawing and sliding home faster and harder each time. It wouldn’t take long for either one of you to get to the grand slam.
Suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of door hinges creaking as someone entered the restroom whistling the melody to “Take Me Out to the Ball Game". The tune came to an abrupt end when the man undoubtedly saw a pair of legs with shorts around the ankles and various sex noises coming from the stall. Once again the door hinges squeaked, this time giving away the man's hasty retreat.
Allen looked at you and you both burst into laughter. It was now no secret what was happening in the men’s bathroom by Section 502.
Despite the interruption, neither one of you dared to end things early, and you soon felt the tension down below pooling in your lower belly. You cried out and threw your head back against the door, digging your nails in Allen’s shoulders as the long, slow ride of your climax coursed through your body, your inner walls tightening and fluttering around Allen’s dick.
Seconds after, you could feel Allen throbbing inside you. “Fuck, I'm gonna come,” he whispered against your ear.
He pulled out and set you down, your legs trembling and nearly giving out beneath you. You circled your fingers around his dick, jerking it in your hand. Allen gripped the top of the stall door, breathing heavy. He closed his eyes and with a moan from deep in his chest, he reached his own peak, marking you across your stomach with warm strands of cum.
Barely giving either of you a moment to recover, Allen kissed you, a slow, passionate kiss that nearly made your knees buckle again. He helped you clean up and handed you your clothes. You glanced at Allen as you redressed. He had a devilish grin on his face as he pulled his shorts up and buttoned them. “Hey, uh, the Cubbies are playing again tomorrow. Early afternoon game. Can we maybe do this again?”
His cheeks blushed immediately, realizing how bad that might have sounded. He started talking 90 to nothing trying to recover. “I-I mean not this exactly…I mean don’t get me wrong, this was amazing…but I just want you know I’m not usually this kind of guy, but I'm not gonna lie, the way you caught that ball earlier kinda turned me on, and you’re just so beautiful and all, and I like you a lot…like a lot..like I’m fallin' for you more and more every second and I'd really like to keep getting to know ya'…I-I mean if it's ok with you, of course… fuck, I can’t think straight around you…y-you know what? I'm just gonna stop talking now.” He let out a much-needed deep breath.
You giggled and put your index finger to his lips. He was cute when he was angry but even more so when he was flustered.
“Yes, Allen, I'll watch the game with you tomorrow.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, smiling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Now let’s get outta here before we’re banned for public indecency.”
*******************************************************
On the way out of the stadium, you passed by the gift shop.
Allen stopped and grabbed your arm, halting you in place. “Hey, wait for me just a sec. I'll be right back.” He disappeared inside.
A few minutes later he came out of the store obviously holding something behind his back. He bit back a smile and handed you what he had been hiding – a souvenir baseball with the Cubs logo on it.
“I mean it's not a home run ball, but…,” his voice shied away.
Now you were blushing. “Thank you, Allen.” You gave him a peck on the cheek, holding the baseball up to your heart. This one meant way more than that stupid home run ball ever would.
Allen walked you all the way to your car, making sure you got there safely.
He opened the driver's side door for you, propping his arms atop the door frame. “So, I'll still see ya' tomorrow? I promise I won’t spill my beer on ya' this time.” He paused. “Well, honestly, I can't really promise that. I can be kind of clumsy sometimes.”
He smiled that lopsided grin again. Man, he was making it so easy to fall harder for him.
Taking his face in your palm, you gently kissed him. “Meet me at the third base gate at noon.”
You got in the car and drove away leaving Allen stunned in the parking lot.
You left Wrigley Field having officially changed your mind.
There was at least one nice guy left in the world and turns out, it was a beautiful day for baseball.
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UPDATE: I’m currently translating the rest of the novel, which you can find here.
English translation of Miss Sherlock novelization excerpt
As many of you must know, there is a novelization of Miss Sherlock, and an excerpt has been posted online here. Unfortunately for us mortals, said excerpt is only in Japanese. Now, I’ve never translated anything before and I haven’t taken a Japanese class in about 4 years now, but my thirst for new content is this intense. Hopefully I’ll give the whole novel a try once I obtain a copy.
Neither Japanese or English is my mother tongue, so sorry for any grammatical errors or awkward translations.
A few translation notes:
I messed with the structure and occasional word choice a little bit to make it flow better in English, but the gist of the original text is all there (I hope)
On that same vein, I didn’t include honorifics and went for a name-surname format
Wato doesn’t seem to like Reimon very much and I don’t know why
Wato’s first impressions of Sherlock are unreal
Japanese onomatopoeia (of which they are unbelievably fond) are nigh impossible to translate
I like the extra characterization Wato gets as the POV of the narration
As room and flat/apartment are used interchangeably in Japanese I am still not entirely sure Sherlock actually has a bedroom
Ok then, that’s it. Enjoy.
The First Case
In the dry air inside the cabin, an announcement urging passengers to fasten their seatbelts rings out. The passengers set their books aside, wake from their naps, and prepare for landing. The airplane slowly descends.
Wato Tachibana raises her head and looks at the approaching streets of Tokyo. How nostalgic. Truly. She quietly takes a breath. She’ll finally see the man whose letters she’d been rereading during the flight once again. This is you we’re talking about, so I know you’ll say that you couldn’t just abandon those in trouble and bravely embarked on a trip… The flowing characters that he had written countless times touch her tired heart.
The airplane’s altitude decreases. The ground grows closer. Wato puts the stationary in their envelopes and looks at the thick bundle of letters. Politely addressed. A stamp with a drawing of a flowering plum branch. Fragments of an ukiyo-e, perhaps? She thinks back to how all these little casual details encouraged her and saved her during her stay in that place.
Yes. Wato has come home. To this country. To the world where she was born and raised.
Back from the country with endless turmoil where she discovered her how helpless she truly was - back from Syria.
+*+
“......Ah!”
When Wato exits the arrival lobby, she sees a nostalgic face and begins running without a thought.
“Dr. Mizuno!”
When Takayuki Mizuno hears her call, he raises his hand to greet her. A gentle smile and relaxed behavior; this was the Dr. Mizuno exactly as Wato remembered him.
“Welcome home. You look well.”
“Yes! As do you, Doctor.”
“It’s good you’re not hurt. I’m relieved.”
Wato feels herself choke on her words. She resists the sudden pain that flares up in her chest and gives him the best smile she can.
“Thank you very much for your letters. You don’t know how much they helped me.”
Mizuno laughs. He makes a face as if to say it wasn’t such a big deal.
“It’s true! They made my heart feel at ease, so I always carried them around in my backpack-”
Thump! rang out a muffled sound.
Wato, who had looked away to pull the bundle of letters from her backpack, turns back to Mizuno, confused. He is falling. Wato smells gunpowder. The people moving about the lobby mysteriously stand still.
“Doctor?”
Mizuno does not even twitch. A commotion starts to spread. Wato jumps to her companion who has fallen face-down, and turns him around and holds him in her arms.
“Dr. Mizuno! Dr. Mizuno…!”
Driven by a dreadful premonition, Wato rips open Mizuno’s shirt, already dyed bright red. The smell of blood wafts off of him, and immediately a nearby woman lets out a scream. The gouged abdomen. The exposed bone. The viscera that is slowly falling apart and sinking into the pool of red blood inside Mizuno’s body.
“A plastic bag,” Wato utters. Her experience as a doctor kicks in and in an instant, she springs into action.
“A plastic bag, please! Hurry!”
After wrapping the plastic bag somebody handed her around her arm, Wato desperately grabs Mizuno’s abdomen, even when her brain understood that it probably was already too late.
+*+
“It must have surprised you, right?”
While Wato tries to stop her hands from shaking, she listlessly listens to a man called Reimon - an inspector with the Metropolitan Police Department, she’d heard him say - ask her this. She gives him a small nod. The arrival lobby is in a state of uproar. Travellers look at the scene from afar without noticing Wato, who sits on a chair by a corner. The young policeman called Shibata, who had brought Wato there, turns to talk to Reimon.
“The victim is Takayuki Mizuno. 49 years old. A surgeon. This lady used to work with the victim in the same hospital and had just returned to Japan from Syria.”
Reimon gives Wato a look as if in thanks and bows quickly. He is a man whose dishevelled hair and round glasses somehow don’t seem to clash at all. Reimon plops the smartphone he was holding onto Shibata’s hand and continues speaking with a slow voice.
“Shibata, take a few pictures of the body with this.”
“Are you sending them to her again?!”
“The sooner the better.”
Shibata grimaces like a sullen dog, but Reimon only waves his hand as if to tell him to go for it. He sees his subordinate energetically running after the corpse, which is now being carried away and as though finding this quite funny, lets out an amused chuckle. Wato stands wide eyed. She looks directly at Reimon’s weaselly face. He is not smiling anymore.
With a hoarse voice, he says, “it seems like the victim’s wife has arrived at the station. Would you please accompany me?”
+*+
The hallways of the Haneda Police Station are dark and deathly quiet. Wato follows Reimon and Shibata with effort while pushing her heavy suitcase along. At the end of the hallway in front of a gray door, she sees a familiar face. Without thinking, she abandons her luggage and rushes over.
“Akiko!”
It’s Tsunayoshi Mizuno’s wife, Akiko. When she reaches the ashen-faced Akiko, Wato bows deeply.
“I am so sorry, Dr. Mizuno came to meet me, and now something like this happened…!”
Akiko shakes her head vigorously. She looks stunned, as if trying to deny that this was Wato’s fault.
“Mrs. Mizuno, if you please,” Reimon cuts in politely to gently urge Wato and Akiko forward. Wato hugs Akiko’s shoulder. She meets her gaze and after exchanging nods, Wato gently pushes her forward.
The door opens with a push. As soon as they peer inside the room, Reimon steps in front of the two women as if to block their view and exclaims, “Sherlock! What are you doing?”
A wet sound comes from inside the room, as if someone was mashing and mixing together something soft. A figure leans over the prone body, digging around the hole in its abdomen. They grab the pieces of viscera and transfer them into a stainless steel platter doing...something that Wato could only describe as putting them all together in their proper place.
Seeing this, Akiko gasps. Wato stares dumbfounded as the shape of a woman stands in the dimly lit room and takes her breath away.
The short and asymmetrical haircut, arranged in a flowing style. The long fingers and legs. The straight nose and jet-black eyes that give her the impression of a shrewd bird of prey. Her movements without hesitation and the perfect shape of her body - it all captivates Wato. A god’s flawless creation. Be it in geometrical terms or mathematical terms, this is a perfect being without a single fault.
However, the unforgivable scene unfolding before her eyes immediately dispels Wato’s fascination. The woman called Sherlock grabs hold of something using forceps and says with a voice devoid of compassion, ill-intent, or any type of feeling, “An autopsy, of course. If I let your inexperienced doctors do their unfocused examination they’d overlook the evidence leading to the cause of death and the culprit.”
With a clatter, Sherlock places the object she had picked up with the forceps onto the platter. From her vantage point, Wato cannot ascertain what that object is. Reimon covers the body’s abdomen with a sheet and says, as if to divert the conversation to another topic, “did you see the crime scene pictures I sent you?”
“Absolutely none of them had things I actually wanted to see. Even a tourist could have taken better pictures,” Sherlock answers cuttingly as she peels off the bloody gloves.
Shibata starts to protest, but Reimon stops him and continues calmly, “I understand. Please, watch it...the victim’s wife is here.”
Sherlock turns to the two women with a piercing gaze and Wato grips Akiko’s shoulder.
“You are the wife. And you over there are a surgeon. A medical volunteer that just came back to Japan from Syria.”
Wato’s eyes widen. Turning back to look at the trembling Akiko, Sherlock continues, “Identify it. The body.”
Akiko looks at Wato’s face, then at the two detectives waiting in a corner of the room in confirmation of what was just asked of her, and then turns her gaze back to Sherlock. With a nearly blank expression, she walks unsteadily towards the body. Her eyes lock onto the pallid face of the deceased. Her body jerks. Her legs give in under her and she falls into a seating position onto the floor. From her mouth escapes a keening sob and she struggles to breathe.
“Akiko!”
A merciless voice stops Wato from embracing Akiko.
“There are a couple of things about your husband’s behavior and appearance that I would like to ask you.”
It is Sherlock. Her voice holds no concern or sympathy, and she just stands looking nonchalantly at Akiko break down and cry. Wato’s hand tightens into a fist. In Akiko’s stead, she protests angrily.
“...Couldn’t this be at another time?”
“It’s urgent, for the investigation. Otherwise, something like this could happen again, don’t you agree?”
Akiko draws her body back with a start and looks up at the woman who was gazing down at her, expressionless. Wato tries to retort something once again, but this time Reimon cuts in with an unpleasant voice.
“Have you found something?”
“A miniature liquid bomb exploded inside the body.”
Sherlock strikes her own stomach and walks away from them. She grabs the platter full of blood and viscera and looks back to Akiko, the two detectives, and Wato.
“It is undoubtedly an explosive called ‘Devil’s Foot.’ Even in extremely small quantities its destructive power is great.”
Everyone but Akiko peers to look into the stainless steel platter Sherlock tilts towards them. A miniature mechanical-looking object rolls around in the pull of blood.
“This IC chip was used to trigger the explosion.”
“...How did something like that end up inside the victim’s body?”
Reimon glances briefly at Akiko, but Sherlock does not seem to notice his concern.
“When was the last time you saw the victim?”
“This...morning. My husband...he left early today.”
Wato feels a stab in her chest and tightens her sweaty palms. Akiko tries to answer, as if she is fighting against a terrible feeling that something like this might happen again.
“Did he look different in any way?”
“Not particularly...”
“You also have a job related to medicine, right?”
Akiko’s eyes widen. Sherlock ignores her surprised expression. Wato steps between Akiko and Sherlock, as if to protect her from the woman’s cool stare. But Sherlock does not look away. It is as if her eyes pierce right through Wato to stare at Akiko.
“I’m- I’m a pharmacist,” Akiko answers faintly.
Sherlock prods further.
“Any children?”
“None.”
“Because you can’t have them? Or because you don’t feel like having them?”
Wato frowns at the tactless words. Reimon and Shibata exchange glances.
“How many times did you have sex in a week? Or are you the type that looks for sex elsewhere?”
Akiko lets out an unintentional sound. She grasps her chest and starts breathing violently again, as if that crass question had destroyed her barely-kept composure. Shibata leans over as if to pat her back, but unsure of where to put his hand, turns to Wato as if asking for permission.
Sherlock spares this scene a glance and says lightly, “Let me know when she feels better.”
The sound of heels clack against the floor. Without looking back, Sherlock leaves the morgue. Wato chews on her lips. She takes a stride towards the door. Then she turns to Shibata, who is still leaning over Akiko.
“Please take care of Akiko!”
“Ah, wait a second-”
Wato rushes out of the room, but the woman she was pursuing had a fast pace and is already turning the corner at the end of the hallway. Wato breaks into a run. She yells at the retreating figure, “Wait…..please wait!”
Sherlock suddenly stops. She turns her head, but does not move even an eyebrow.
“Akiko just lost her husband. Being a police officer is no excuse for being this insensitive!” Wato yells. Sherlock’s lips twist into a smile, as if seeing someone have an emotional outburst was unbearably funny.
“What’s wrong about it? Besides, I’m not a police officer.”
“Huh?”
“I’m a freelancer. You could call me a consulting detective. I’m a specialist on criminal psychology, and help the police investigate difficult cases they can’t crack. Inspector Reimon and I are sort of acquaintances. He’s quite cunning, and has the wisdom and authority to let me into investigations.”
As she regards her slowly approaching figure, Wato is overcome by surprise. She had thought this woman was a weird police officer or something of the sort, but - a consulting detective? The woman stands close to her. Her flawless face looks down at Wato’s own. Mysteriously unable to move away, Wato says,“...How did you know? That I am a doctor.”
“Your suitcase. The inspector left it by the morgue’s entrance for you. There’s some suturing thread coiled around it.”
“...And Syria?”
“Your wristwatch is 6 hours slow. A hospital in Syria was bombed just three days ago, the medical volunteers came back to Japan but an hour ago, and you were one of them, weren’t you?”
Wato stands with her lips slightly parted, unable to answer. The unbelievable title of consulting detective. The aloof attitude of walking on a higher dimension than reality. This...this Sherlock woman - unable to utter a word, Wato’s heart beats loudly.
Her face grows closer. When she is so close she would be able to feel if Wato had a fever, she says in a low voice that makes Wato shiver, “There’s a smell of explosives. A mixture of RDX trimethylene trinitramine and aluminum.”
The sound of explosions and screams return to her ears. Wato flinches away. As she separates, the vivid memory disappears suddenly, along with Sherlock’s refreshing scent and body heat.
“Can I leave now?”
Sherlock turns her body, and this time does not stop and walks briskly down the dark hallway.
Momentarily unable to move, Wato just stands still in place. The echoes of that deep voice still reverberate in her ears. Even after she stops seeing the woman’s figure after she turned the corner at the end of the hallway, even after she cannot hear the sound of her steps, Wato is unable to move. It’s as if something has captured her mind and body completely, and she cannot say even a single word.
+*+
A calm hill road where not even the wind moved. When Wato walks past such a commonplace scenery - the row of houses, each enclosed by its own fence - she is filled with an emotion she cannot identify. It was an ordinary Japanese street, just like any other she had seen during her life, and yet it does not feel ordinary to her. It’s as if she was now seeing a completely different world to the one she had been in just a dozen hours earlier.
Wato stops walking. She looks at Inspector Reimon’s business card, and once again verifies the house address he had given her. 221B. It is a big house in Mejirodai’s residential area, so she should find it right away, Reimon had said. And indeed she did. Wato, filled with determination, looks up at a western-style house surrounded by a tall fence and trees and rings the bell. The gate of the residence opens slightly and an elegant woman comes to greet her.
“Yes, yes. Ah, You’re the one who just phoned, Miss Tachibana, right? Come in.”
Wato bows her head deeply enters the premises when invited. The woman has soft-looking short hair, and a gentle countenance and voice. This must certainly be the Mrs. Hatano she had spoken to on the phone.
“Did you come for a consultation too?”
“Ah, well-”
Walking after Hatano, Wato speaks stumbling over her words. The business in the morgue. Akiko, who still had not been able to recover. What had proceeded at an office at the station - how Reimon had given Wato his card and sent her away, with instructions to contact him if she had any other questions. How she had passed the night in a cramped business hotel unable to sleep and called Reimon’s cell phone first thing in the morning. That she had wanted to see the woman called Sherlock again. She wanted to hear what she had to say, Wato explains. Hatano smiles at Wato and replies, “Lots of different people are always coming to see her. It’s always quite lively in here.”
“Forgive me, for coming so suddenly...um, are you her mother?”
Hatano laughs pleasantly like a child and shakes her head at Wato’s direction.
“I just rent out a room for Sherlock. A long time ago her parents helped me, so I am simply repaying the favor.”
“Um, is Sherlock her real name?”
“She has an actual, real name, of course. She started calling herself Sherlock after a certain event, then it caught on. And well, you should ask her the details sometime.”
Wato tilts her head in puzzlement. Hatano once again laughs sweetly and pulls open the elegant front door.
“Come on in.”
It seems like they’re supposed to go inside and up the stairs without taking off their dirty shoes. Wato walks behind Hatano down the dark and polished hallway. At the end of the hallway, they reach a room and Hatano gives an unexpectedly loud knock. Wato jumps unintentionally. There is absolutely no response from inside the room.
“M-maybe she’s not home?”
“Uh-uh. When she concentrates on something she’s deaf to any other sound. Sherlock! Sherlock! I’m coming in!”
Even before she’s finished announcing her intentions, Hatano pushes the door open. For some reason, Wato can smell the scent of chemicals in the air. When she follows Hatano inside, Wato’s eyes widen at the abnormal view that greets her. There are many little notes packed densely everywhere, and clothes thrown around haphazardly. There are a great variety of samples inside the numerous pieces of honest-to-goodness laboratory equipment. There’s a lovingly polished cello in one corner, for some reason.
The western-style interior, decorated by relaxed furniture is so chaotic and disorderly there is not even space for walking around. Was this someone’s private room? Isn’t it too packed with random objects and much too chaotic for someone to live here? And despite this, for some mysterious reason, there seems to be a certain consistency that brings it all together.
The woman in question is sitting at a desk under a window facing a computer. She makes no move to face Wato and Hatano.
“Sherlock! You have a guest!”
Finally hearing Hatano’s voice, Sherlock turns and focuses her gaze on Wato. Her eyebrow twitches and arches. Forcefully, she says, “What’s with those clothes? You bought them in your college years and just kept on wearing them. You’re the type of person who just thinks about comfort and durability when you choose your clothing and does not think about enjoying fashion at all, aren’t y-”
“Sherlock! Don’t be rude!” Hatano raises her voice.
Almost hoping she would say something like sorry for yesterday, or I went too far, Wato stands there, open-mouthed. When she finally realizes her fashion sense has just been insulted, Wato tries to retort, but something being thrown at her distracts her and she loses her chance. It’s a deep green trench coat - Hermes. What’s with the super famous, expensive brand?
“What’s this?”
“Something that’s better than what you’re wearing. Put it on. I cannot think properly if something without aesthetic sense invades my field of vision.”
“Huh? Excuse me, but why would I follow your orders about how I need to dress?!”
“I’ll give you that coat. It’s yours now. It got a little stained from when I wrapped a dismembered murder victim in it a while back, though.”
After seeing the sticky stain on the inner lining, Wato throws the coat on the floor. She leans forward and shoots back with a strong tone,“Don’t worry about my appearance. I just want you to tell me if you know anything about why Dr. Mizuno was killed.”
Sherlock raises her eyebrow disinterestedly and immediately turns back to the computer’s monitor. In it, there is a diagram of a human’s digestive system, and a pill reaching the inside of the stomach. A pharmaceutical company’s homepage, maybe? Throwing caution out the wind, Wato fishes around her bag until she finds the letters she had received from Dr. Mizuno and thrusts them under the woman’s nose. Her eyes finally leave the screen.
“These are the letter Dr. Mizuno sent me,” Wato continues. “They saved me from losing my way in an unfamiliar country. I need to know why he has killed in such a horrible-”
Sherlock looks keenly at the letters spread out in front of her. Eventually, she looks up and asks with a pleasant tone, “What’s your reason for finding the cause of Mizuno’s death? Is it curiosity? Or do you want to find the truth?”
“I want to find the truth,” Wato answers without hesitating. Even if she scornfully laughs at her, Wato musn’t back down. She came here because she wants to understand everything and track down Mizuno’s killer. She bites her lip. She nods without taking her eyes off the woman in front of her. As she is opening her mouth to speak, a cell phone sitting on top of the desk rings shrilly.
Sherlock answers. She gives one- or two-word answers, and then breaks into a wide grin that lights up her whole face. After confirming an address, she hangs up. Delighted, she says, “Another body turned up. Same cause of death as Mizuno.”
She does not wait for Wato or Hatano to respond. She quickly jumps off her chair, grabs her coat and bag, and just like that, runs to the door. She turns around just once, and waves her hand gracefully at Wato.
“Well then, enjoy yourself.”
“Wait, please,” Wato replies. She takes one step forward. She looks at the woman a who has paused to face her and says clearly.
“I’m going with you.”
Sherlock’s eyes widen, surprised as if she had just heard a mouse speak. Before long, her lips curl into a smile even more delighted than the one before.
“...Be my guest. I’ll ask your opinions as a doctor.”
Come, her hand beckons. Wato takes one deep breath, and begins to chase after her with a quick pace.
#miss sherlock#miss sherlock novel#translation#hey guys i tried#translating a paper copy without being able to copypaste kanji i don't know into a dictionary is gonna be a BITCH#but i'll worry about that later#japanese#glue translates
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