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waveridden · 2 years

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people keep reblogging that post about who has seen the most incinerations and being like “damn i wasn’t expecting X to be on the list” so just for funsies here is the list of everyone who they saw get incinerated

please note that these lists include both teammate incinerations and non-teammate incinerations. but for the sake of drama the teammates are italicized

beck whitney:

flowers, s1 to mid-s6: sosa elftower, famous oconnor, hurley pacheco, bryanayah chang, tyler violet, jorge ito, isaac rubberman, matheo carpenter, morrow doyle, caligula lotus

dale, mid s6-s13: dominic marijuana, murray pony, raul leal, theodore holloway, augusta chadwell

fridays, s14-s22: pudge nakamoto (the first time), alejandro leaf (the first time)

millennials, s22-s24: tot clark

dunlap figueroa:

tigers, s1 to mid-s23: juan rangel, landry violence, combs duende, emmett internet, moody cookbook, elijah bates, mclaughlin scorpler, kiki familia, antonio wallace, sebastian telephone, yazmin mason, frasier shmurmgle, hobbs cain, wichita toaster, igneus delacruz, carmelo plums, yong wright

sunbeams, s23 while super-roamin’: pudge nakamoto (the second time)

karato bean:

fridays, s1-s7: fitzgerald massey, jessi wise, hurley pacheco, sebastian townsend, sam solis, hendricks rangel, sebastian sunshine, thomas england

spies, s8-s14: case sports, raul leal, theodore holloway, norris firestar, son scotch

lovers, s15-s24: sparks beans, helga washington, jon halifax, helga moreno, peanut holloway

knight triumphant:

lovers, s1-s12: lars mendoza, zi delacruz, paul barnes, miguel javier, whit steakknife, caligula lotus, jose haley, tillman henderson

spies, s13: raul leal, theodore holloway, norris firestar

georgias, s16-s17: chorby soul (the third time), luis acevedo, hercules alighieri

steaks, mid s18-s20: chorby soul iii

lift, s21-s22: gerund pantheocide, brock forbes

steaks (again), s22-s24: helga moreno (former teammate)

spears taylor:

pies, s1 to mid-s4: alexandria dracaena, cedric gonzalez, juan rangel, kennedy alstott

tigers, mid-s4 to s8: combs duende, emmett internet, moody cookbook, elijah bates, mclaughlin scorpler, kiki familia, antonio wallace, sebastian telephone, yazmin mason, frasier shmurmgle, hobbs cain

fridays, s9-s24: hands scoresburg, pudge nakamoto (the first time), alejandro leaf (the first time)

tot fox:

jazz hands, s1 to mid-s4: alexandria dracaena, aldon anthony, cedric gonzalez, theodore passon, ogden mendoza, velasquez meadows

crabs, mid-s4 to mid-s19: combs duende, murray pony, tillman henderson, annie roland, chorby soul, luis acevedo, chorby soul iii

lovers, mid-s19 to s24: sparks beans, helga washington, jon halifax (former teammate), helga moreno, peanut holloway

wyatt pothos:

tacos, s1-s9: tyreek olive, scrap murphy, jessi wise, natha kath, blankenship fischer, hendricks rangel, sebastian sunshine, stevenson monstera, eduardo ingram, morrow doyle, richardson turquoise

pods, s10: sebastian telephone

jazz hands, s11-s24: lawrence horne, combs estes, sutton bishop, hercules alighieri, tamara crankit, bauer zimmerman

#waveridden.txt #long post //#i need a blaseball tag #some key takeaways here:#in early discipline era the tacos saw a FUCKTON of deaths. same for the fridays and flowers #the tigers also saw a lot in mid-late discipline era #the dale saw a lot in early expansion and the lovers saw a lot in late expansion #not to mention the jands expansion era curse #all this to say: you will see a Lot of repeated names on there #anyways go nuts have emotions about the people who saw people die. have fun. let me know if you have any questions #also for the record the award for 'saw most teammates die' goes to castillo turner #and the award for 'most of the deaths i saw were my teammates' goes to simon haley #it's a subtle but noteworthy distinction

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fourteenfifteen · 2 years

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oh yeah 📓

oh yeah oh yeah

uh i have a bit of a justice spoon/whit steakknife fic in my drafts. i like them so much is the thing

my idea was like. pre-canon justice figuring out her gender through getting together w whit (who’s a trans man) like he’s like “i did a gender 😎” and justice is like “wow that’s so cool i wish i could do that instead of being a non-gendered statue” and whit’s like “u can !!” and justice goes : 0 and then they kiss :’ )

#they’re in love okay #s1 justice : ) she wasn’t even traumatized #*covers up everything* juswhit happy : )#ty veronica MWAH #ask tag #blaseball #krookodyke

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taketheringtolohac · 2 years

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PDZ!

youve activated my trap card >:)

pdz

favorite thing about them the whole narrative of having to create your own self image and decide who you are for yourself is just SO good, and that being highlighted by the fact that they are also creating their own body at all times... it gets me every time

least favorite thing about them i so desperately wish that we couldve executed the pdz batting thing it wouldve been SUCH a good arc for them but alas. peanuts.

favorite line the dot off... when pdz has to pitch against dottie but dot SUCKS now and is so much worse than them... yeah

brOTP rod and pdz affectionate weird siblings :)

OTP lord. i have no clue what blaseball player but i think they would have briefly dated spatula steakknife whit's goth daughter and it wouldve ended badly

nOTP honestly? dot and pdz in any capacity its obv a bit weird if theyre dating but even just as friends like... sure they can heal from their relationship but its not the same and wouldnt really be healthy for them to have more than just a once monthly catch up meeting

random headcanon hewitt has to teach her to drive because no one else will/no one else SHOULD (like, the other options are rod, leach, marq- none of these people should have licenses) and even though he is definitely the best driver he still gets them lost during a lesson one day and also his truck is NOT the best for learning to drive in

unpopular opinion pdz IS the better polkadot. i dont take criticism.

song i associate with them when i grow up by garbage

favorite picture of them the pdz art that toasts drew for artfight with like the shadows behind them im so obsessed w it

send me a character and i'll answer these things about them!

#pdz was one of my early faves and still is like <33 they r just SO good you know #i have so many Thoughts abt them. number one thing is that they r team baby so jot that down #polkadot zavala #kansas city breath mints #blaseball #proxy roxy asks

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polkadotzavala · 3 years

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I don't know which blaseball team you're on so you can pick the characters but could you do 15 for the prompts?

HI!!!! im a mint!!! sorry this took like a week, i accidentally got a little carried away so heres 2k of OG mins lore (as i see it bc he minty way is that Everything Nice Is True

15: Things you said many miles apart

A collection of Interviews, taken in the weeks leading up to the Formation and Appearance of ILB Blaseball Team, The Kansas City Breath Mints. Found on VHS in a tote bag hidden in the office of Mr. M. Betmint, KCBM General Manager, digitized and filed during the Siesta by Mx. B. Monreal, Season 11 KCBM Interim General Manager.

---

“SAY YOUR NAME FOR THE CAMERA.”

“My name is Whit Steakknife, do you always yell like that?” Whit Steakknife cocks his serrated knife blade of a head to the side. His hands do not move from their folded position on the table.

“THIS IS MY NORMAL MANAGER VOICE.” Calls the voice standing behind the large camera tripod.

“Okay then Mr., uh, Betmint, was it?”

“YES. I AM MAXIMUS BETMINT. I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS FOR YOU.”

“Ask away.”

“HAVE YOU EVER PLAYED BLASEBALL BEFORE?”

“A few neighborhood grabbag teams here and there, even met my second wife, Justice, playing blaseball.” He flashes his left hand, where a single rose gold band is visible.

“DO YOU PLAN ON PLAYING BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

“In the league that’s forming? Maybe, if I get an offer to.”

“IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“Absolutely.” Whit Steakknife smiles, and the interview is over.

---

The following VHS’s audio was significantly quieter than the rest and the video quality was lacking more than the others. Still regarded as adequate data. -BM

- - -

“HELLO INTERVIEWEE. PLEASE SET DOWN YOUR BAT AND STATE YOUR NAME INTO THE CAMERA.”

“So, you acknowledge that it is a bat.”

“WHY WOULD IT NOT BE?”

“Because you folks on this end of the pond do not seem to know what Clricket is.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT, I DON’T. WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME WITH YOUR NAME INTO THE CAMERA?”

“My name is Marquez Clark and I am a Clricket batter.”

“DOES THAT MEAN YOU ALSO KNOW HOW TO BE A BLASEBALL BATTER?”

“I wager I could try.”

“WOULD YOU JOIN A BLASEBALL TEAM?”

“I do not see why not.”

“FINALLY. IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“I do not know who he is but I would assume so.” Marquez Clark picks up his Clricket bat and leaves camera view, ending the interview.

---

“PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME TO THE CAMERA.”

The mime on camera does not say anything and simply hands a paper to the man behind the camera.

“GREY ALVARADO, MIME FOR HIRE.”

The mime, Grey Alvarado, nods quietly.

“IS MIME BITS ALL YOU ARE HIRED FOR?”

Grey smiles and shakes his head no. He mimes the action of using a pickaxe to mine, rocking a baby to sleep, and mixing something in a large bowl.

“HAVE YOU BEEN HIRED FOR BLASEBALL BEFORE?”

Grey nods yes and mimes tapping a blaseball bat on the batting plate and readying a swing.

“WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

Grey smiles wider, as if silently laughing, and mimes hitting a pitch with his mimed bat and then shields his eyes as if looking into the sunny distance to see how far the ball flew.

“IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

Grey strikes a pose and gives the camera a thumbs up, ending the interview.

---

“TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME PLEASE.”

“My name is Eizabeth Guerra, it's right there on the catering invoice.” Eizabeth Guerra sits in a chair, arms folded over her baker’s apron.

“YES THANK YOU FOR THE MINTY DESSERTS, THE SPEARMINT WILL BE APPEASED.”

“The spearmint will-, nevermind, I came here to bring you catered desserts, not answer an interview.”

“IS AN INTERVIEW NOT PART OF THE CATERING PROCESS?”

“Usually not, Mister Betmint.”

“DO YOU EVER CATER BLASEBALL EVENTS OR GAMES?”

“Occasionally.”

“DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD ALLOW YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

“What are you playing at Mr. Betmint?” She leans forward in her chair, getting closer to the camera.

“CAN’T TELL YOU.”

“Alright then.”

“DO YOU THINK THE COMMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“I’d assume so.” Eizabeth Guerra stands and tips her cap to the camera, the interview is over.

---

“TELL US YOUR NAME. THE CAMERA WANTS TO KNOW.”

“Oh? You don’t know your own boyfriend’s name?”

“ARE YOU MY BOYFRIEND?”

“I might be, I might not be. I guess we’ll never know.” They laugh a little.

“YOU STILL HAVEN’T SAID YOUR NAME.”

“My name is Boyfriend Monreal, ethereal boyfriend.” Boyfriend Monreal smirks and the eyes dotting their lengthy braid of hair blink in a slow cascading pattern.

“MX. MONREAL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

“I’ve seen a few baseball players now and again, yes.”

“WITH ALL OF THE EYES OR ON A DATE?”

“Yes.”

“HAVE YOU LEARNED HOW TO PLAY THE SPLORT AT ALL THROUGH THIS?”

“Enough, and enough to know what you’re going to ask next.”

“WHICH IS?”

“Whether or not I could play Blaseball professionally, and the answer is yes, I will be.”

“DO YOU-”

“Of course he is,” Boyfriend Monreal stands and winks with nearly all their eyes, “for now.”

---

The following footage, though perfectly intact on the VHS, did not translate well digitally. As such it is incomplete, and regarded as inaccurate data. -BM

- - -

“CAMERA! TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME” Betmint sounds a little agitated and out of breath, as if the camera had not being working correctly.

“My name is Rodriguez Internet, and I am the Internet.” Rodriguez Internet bows a little, the ASCII Strings that make up his body shifting to create the movement.

“DOES BEING THE INTERNET LET YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?”

“There is way way too much to know, so I don’t know anything.”

“DO YOU AT LEAST KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

“It’s a splort.”

“CORRECT. CAN YOU PLAY IT?”

“I’m down to learn it, yeah.”

“DO-” The feed cuts out, the rest of Betmint’s sentence can be heard in bits an pieces, though nothing discernable enough to tell what he said. The feed returns at the end of his next question, “- A GREAT JOB?”

“Yes, of course he is.” Rodrigeuz Internet tips his imaginary hat as he stands and walks away from the camera. The tape runs for about 30 seconds on an empty room before cutting out, the interview is over.

---

“THE CAMERA IS ROLLING. FEEL FREE TO SAY YOUR NAME AND MONOLOUGE AT IT.”

“Thank you for the opportunity to do so Mr. Betmint.”

“MY PLEASURE.”

“My name is Dickerson Morse, PI. Before you start yelling again sir, I am not here to investigate you.” Dickerson Morse levies the camera a steady dead stare from under the brim of his fedora.

“PHEW.”

“I am here to interview for whatever team it was you were advertising with this poorly made flyer. What are the qualifications I need?”

“WELL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

“I’ve done steak-outs at games before, back when I did larceny cases.”

“DO YOU THINK YOU COULD PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

“Technically I am a professional at everything, so, yes.”

“GREAT. FINAL QUESTION. DO YOU THINK THE COMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“Yes.” Dickerson Morse crushes something small against the table, the video feed fills with smoke and he is gone. The interview is over.

---

“SAY HELLO TO THE CAMERA. TELL IT YOUR NAME.”

“Hello, I am Hewitt Best.”

“HELLO. DO YOU KNOW BLASEBALL?”

“Yes, I do.

“CAN YOU PLAY IT?”

“Yes, I can.”

“WOULD YOU PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

“Would I get union benefits?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE BUT I THINK SO.”

“Then yes, I would.”

“IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“Certainly.” Hewitt Best smiles and simply walks away from the screen, the interview is over.

---

The video on this tape is nearly indecipherable sue to angelic presence; however, the audio is completely intact. Regarded as accurate data. - BM

- - -

“I THINK IT WORKS NOW. HERE’S A CAMERA, PLEASE SAY YOUR NAME TO THE CAMERA.”

“Eduardo Ingram, Seraph.” The bright spot that is the angelic form of Eduardo Ingram shines a bit brighter for a second.

“And leach ingram, lich.” The darker spot on the film that is the necrotic form of Leach Ingram flickers for a second.

“DO YOU COME AS A PAIR?”

“Well, no.” Eddie laughs.

“Can you blame a lich for wanting to spend time with her partner?”

“CONGRATS ON YOUR MARRIAGE.”

“Thank you.” The two reply in unison.

“HAVE EITHER OF YOU HEARD OF BLASEBALL?”

“I have, yes.”

“Where i can throw a ball in the direction of the plate he can hit it out of the park.”

“WOULD YOU BOTH PLAY PROFESSIONALLY IF GIVEN THE CHANCE?”

The colors of the video shift for a second, as if the two are looking at each other. “Yes.” They both reply, curtly, in unison.

“THE COMMISSIONER. IS HE DOING A GREAT JOB.”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

The video flickers to pitch black before refocusing on the now empty office. Eduardo and Leach Ingram have left and their interview is over.

---

“SMILE FOR THE CAMERA AND TELL IT YOUR NAME.”

“A good dentist never does his own teeth, so I'm afraid mine are a little shoddy.” He flashes a crooked smile.

“ARE YOU BOASTING DENTAL PROWESS, SIR?”

“Well, of course, all the kids say Oscar Vaughn D.D.S is the best dentist in all of Kansas City.” Oscar Vaughn sits back a little in his chair.

“DO YOU DO DENTAL WORK ON ANY BLASEBALL PLAYERS?”

“Occasionally.”

“DO YOU KNOW HOW TO PLAY BLASEBALL?”

“Oh, of course, I was quite the slugger in college.” He laughs, “Quite impressed my dear husband, too.” He smiles fondly.

“ARE YOU AT ALL INTERESTED IN PLAYING BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

“Given I dust off my old gear and my old splorts bones, I think I could manage.”

“AND IS THE COMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“Forever and always.” Oscar Vaughn nods his head at the camera and the interview is over.

Note: The tape and digital upload of the tape both glitch and play this interview twice over instead of the one single time. No known reason as to why. Tapes are still valid information. -BM

---

“TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME, BE ITS FRIEND.”

“Does the camera have the sentience to make friends, Mr. Betmint?”

“I DON’T KNOW. EXISTENTIALISM IS NOT MY STRONG SUIT.”

“That’s fair.”

“WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN.”

“Axel Trololol and I’m going to become a car one day.” Axel Trololol beams a bright smile directly at the camera.

“OH, DO YOU KNOW ABOUT CYBERNETICS? I NEED MORE PEOPLE WHO KNOW ABOUT CYBERNETICS.”

“I know my fair share, yes.”

“DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BLASEBALL?”

“Quite a bit, my sibling Stu has been playing for a few years and I’ve picked some of it up.”

“WOULD YOU PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“DO YOU THINK THE COMMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“The greatest job.” Axel Trololol smiles brightly and the interview is over.

---

“CAMERA IS GOING TELL IT YOUR NAME.”

“My Name Is PolkaDot Patterson.” “My name is PolkaDot Zavala”

Call two similar, yet distinct, voices from where PolkaDot Patterson and their shadow, PolkaDot Zavala, are sitting. “WAIT ARE THERE TWO OF YOU?”

“Yes And No, We Are Separate People And Separate Entities, Zavala Merely Is My Shadow. Therefore, She Is A Part Of Me But We Are Not The Same.”

“I am them, and I am me, they are only them, and they are not not me.”

“SO DO YOU DO EVERYTHING EXACTLY THE SAME?”

“Not Always, We Can Move As Separate People.”

“I take naps when they do things quite often.”

“IF ONE OF YOU LEARNED A SPLORT COULD THE OTHER ONE DO IT AS WELL?”

“Within Reason, Yes.”

“I’ll just read the textbooks over their shoulder.” Zavala giggles.

“DO EITHER OF YOU KNOW BLASEBALL?”

“A Decent Amount, I’m Not As Good At It As I Would Like To Be, But, I Will Get There.”

“I’ve sat in on a lesson or two, enough to know what’s goin’ on in a game.”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

“That Would Be Much Apreiciated Practice.”

“I don’t really have anything better to do, plus it might be fun.”

“OKAY. IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

“Yes, Of Course.” PolkaDot Patterson stands and gives a half bow as they turn away from the camera.

“Naturally, duh.” PolkaDot Zavala gives the other half of the bow as they follow Patterson out the door. The interview is over.

#blaseball #Shadows Friends #(thats my anon tag now)#Kansas City Breath Mints #im not gonna tage all the individual players #Long Post #Anonymous

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charaznablescanontoyota · 2 years

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👀 + 🤩

Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

i am. being really slow to work on like all of my wips rn. HOWEVER. i started noodling around with twine again for shits and giggles and am writing a peck and poole twine that is theoretically a prequel/warmup for a bigger fic i want to write (probably not in twine). i also really want to go back to picking at my whit steakknife irm fic soon bc i like what's there so far but it needs a lot more substance

Who is your favorite character to write?

it changes! it changes a lot. right now it's poole because he's been living in my brain rent free lately

#writing meta meme

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numbersninja · 3 years

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Hey guys remember when the mints decided to have pirate week during season 24 with the pies and then died on day 3 and then the entire league turned into a nautical map with navigation to go kill a god and outrun a black hole?

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charaznablescanontoyota · 2 years

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blaseball femslash feb day 2 - stars

a story the woman will never tell - and one the statue, banished to another universe, will try to omit from memory - is this:

after the book opens, after jaylen burns on the west coast, whit shows up at the firehouse in her old truck. justice gets in the passenger seat without being asked. they drive miles and hours outside of chicago, flying down straight stretches of highway with the midwest laid flat and bare in front of them like a map on a child’s play mat.

it’s dark, sometime past midnight, when whit pulls onto the shoulder of the road. she gets out and hops onto the hood of the car, boots knocking hollowly against the metal. justice joins her - moving stiff and cautious, always careful of how her marble body intersects with the world around it - and lets whit curl into the hollow of her side, unasked.

the air is cool. there’s a field that runs right up to the edge of the road, either wheat or just plain, tall grass, and it rustles gently with the breeze. the sky is clear enough out here to see stars, and the moon is bright. deceptively so, justice thinks, after the way it blotted out the sun earlier.

a total eclipse. there’s projected to be another one tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. everyone knows it’s a punishment, but no one will say it out loud.

“they killed jaylen because she was the best,” whit says, finally. her head is turned, her voice muffled by the crook of justice’s arm.

“neither of us is the best,” justice says. it’s placating, but it’s also a hard fact. “did you know jaylen?”

“no.” whit wrinkles her nose. “but do you really think she’ll be the end of it?”

justice looks up towards the sky again, recalls countless nights of watching the stars as an immobile statue. she tracks the steady, blinking motion of an airplane across the black without moving a muscle.

“i hope so,” she says, because she can still hope, even if she knows in her core that it will never be the truth. there’s a creeping dread in her that this is what the firefighters were called up to blaseball for - not for the sport, or to represent their city, but for whatever will come of jaylen turning into a living pyre on live television.

“i won’t let anything happen to you,” whit says - defiant, almost childishly so. she shifts and looks up at justice, her jaw set stubbornly. “okay?”

“i don’t think you get a say in it,” justice says, doomed to be pragmatic, to see the forest for all its dry, flammable trees.

“yeah, but, like - til death, right?” whit’s eyes bore into justice’s like hard chisels straight into the stone.

justice hums and looks away, down at the asphalt. she finds whit’s hand and laces her fingers with whit’s carefully, so mindful of what human flesh can take, and hopes that the gentleness in itself is enough of an answer.

#blaseball #femslash february #marn writes #apparently im writing all of these on my phone #whit steakknife #justice spoon #i have. a longer fic about my whit coming but tldr she’s a human and a lesbian #and her and justice are engaged

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charaznablescanontoyota · 2 years

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28 + dealer's choice

28. pressing their foreheads together

whit hasn't slept right since tyreek's incineration. the newsreel footage of it is like a loop on the back of her eyelids - the umpire training its gaze on justice, tyreek jumping in front. it's the only thing whit's mind is able to wander its way back to when she lies down in the dark.

justice driving down on her off days from pitching hardly helps, either. it just means she's there to notice when whit tosses and turns all night with no recourse, that she's already wide awake (but patiently lying still) when whit sits up at three-something in the morning and says "this isn't working."

justice sits up, too. there's a puzzled look on her face - whit can see it in the way the moon gleams off the contours of her mouth, quirked sideways. "what's wrong?"

"i -" whit stops herself short. she has never liked to admit when she is scared, or worried. now, even with justice, is no exception. she swallows, and twists the ring on her finger. "can't sleep. that's all."

"come here," justice says, and rolls onto her side.

whit does. she curls herself into justice, wrapping an arm around justice's waist and splaying her palm against the lean, sculpted muscles of justice's back. she tucks her head under justice's chin, first wincing at the coolness of the marble, then leaning into it.

"i'm not going anywhere," justice says. she rubs a soothing circle into the space between whit's shoulderblades as she says it, her fingers massaging deep and steady.

"not what i'm worried about," whit mutters, which is a lie.

"yes, it is." justice's voice is patient. whit will never understand that about her; that endless, stony patience. it feels cold, sometimes, but whit knows that justice never means for it to be.

"okay," whit says. "so what?"

"so, i'm not going anywhere," justice repeats.

she shifts, leans her head down to press her forehead to whit's. her blindfold is off - she takes it off to sleep, and in private, and looking her in the eye without it as a barrier between them feels almost too intimate for whit to bear. she almost looks away. but she doesn't.

up close, she can see the details of justice's pupils, how someone a long time ago chipped those careful holes in the marble. how someone carefully carved a border between iris and sclera, sculpted the curve of an eyelid. it's beautiful. justice is beautiful.

"neither am i," whit says, like a dare to the universe.

"good," justice says, and leans in to kiss her.

#blaseball #marn writes #whit steakknife #justice spoon #i simply think that Them.

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necromancer-mango · 2 years

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[image description: A pencil sketch colored digitally, depicting Justice Spoon and Whit Steakknife from the game Blaseball. The drawing is colored in pale watercolors. Spoon is leaning over Whit in an embrace against his back. They are holding each other's hands. Spoon is lifting one of Whit's hands to kiss. Neither of their faces can be seen well. /end image description]

#Blaseball #justice spoon #whit steakknife #chicago firefighters #kansas city breath mints #art tag #image description

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charaznablescanontoyota · 3 years

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in another spaceship, in another quadrant of the map:

“stop me if you’ve heard this one before -”

“we’ve heard it.”

“i didn’t even start it yet!”

“we’ve heard all your jokes.”

“oh, spare me, steakknife, i’ve got a full jokebook up here. and i only joke when i’m nervous, anyway.”

“you joke all the time.”

“there’s a lot to be nervous about! atlas, back me up here.”

“geez, uh - whit, i kinda want to hear the joke.”

“of fucking course you do. pushover.”

“that’s two against one, whit my love.”

“i am not your love.”

“hey, what’s love if not hurtling through space with someone in a tiny hunk of junk going millions of light years per minute?”

“is that the joke?”

“your sense of humor’s broken, steakknife.”

“i am well aware.”

“i thought maybe it would’ve gotten resurrected with the rest of the mints.”

“yeah. pull the other one.”

“oh, very tempting.”

“uh - trevino?”

“atlas?”

“the, um, joke.”

“right! the joke.”

“you had to fucking remind him.”

“sorry.”

“you should be.”

“so! there’s three blaseball players in a spaceship, with four cigarettes between them, but no lighter.”

“uh, i don’t smoke.”

“neither do i, atlas. we’re being hypothetical here.”

“i’ve got more than four cigarettes.”

“good for you, steakknife.”

“and a lighter.”

“again! hypothetical situation!”

“if you’d told the joke the right way, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“the, uh, right way?”

“if you think you can tell it better, be my guest, whit.”

“fine. there’s three men on a boat, with four cigarettes between them, but no way to light them. they throw one cigarette overboard, and the whole boat becomes one cigarette lighter.”

“...”

“what.”

“i don’t get it?”

“it’s a pun.”

“your delivery’s not exactly on point, steakknife. one cigarette lighter, atlas.”

“oh. oh. okay.”

“see, i liked mine better. i’ve got another, though.”

“spare me.”

“never. what do you call it when you’re sick of being at the airport?”

“i don’t know and i don’t want to know.”

“terminal illness!”

“i hope we crash land in the desert and you die for real.”

“oh, geez, whit.”

“aw, whit, you do love me.”

“whatever.”

“...”

“trevino.”

“yeah, steakknife?”

“it’s too quiet. tell another one.”

“alright, now, stop me if you’ve heard this one before -”

#blaseball #trevino merritt #atlas jonbois #whit steakknife #i do think about those guys. i do #marn writes

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