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genuflectx · 2 years

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Ender’s Saga, sans the Forth

I found myself writing something soft and sappy about Ender’s Game after reading it, never finished, and then I read the next two novels, Speaker for the Dead and Xenocide, and the illusion was well broken. There’s a forth, Children of the Mind, but despite it being the second half cleaved from Xenocide, after Xenocide I find myself hard pressed to read #4. So we are going to pretend it doesn’t exist except for the brief synopsis on Wikipedia.

Ender’s Game is one of those classic novels you may have read in school. It was released in 1985 by Orson Scott Card, who would have been about 34 at the time, but he had been publishing since the 70s. Ender’s story would continue on for decades. Even today Card still writes and publishes for Ender, but Ender’s Game was the first and, out of the three I have read, the best.

Ender’s Game is simplistic, following just Ender and then his two Earthbound siblings as a secondary plotline. Three main characters with spatterings of child soldiers flittering in and out of Ender’s life. The climax is unexpected and shocking (in a good way), though the ending after that is divisive. Going from a 10 year old boy to a 20 year old man running a colony on an alien planet in the course of a few sentences will certainly do that. But before that, Ender’s game is easy to swallow, it’s themes uncomplicated and plot one-track-minded. It’s not so subtle in it’s criticism of the military, child soldiers/lost childhoods, and war.

Then, you pick up the second book, Speaker for the Dead. From #1 to #2 Card makes a great leap that is incredibly jarring, but it pushes us forward into an expanded universe. Once comfortable with that, the book is solid. More complex than the 1st (as sequels usually are) and a large swath of new characters on a new planet. But Valentine falls by the wayside, only a distant memory for Ender throughout SFTD. There is mystery, there is conflict, there is tragedy and new belonging. It ends just as abruptly as the 1st ended, with a single sentence marrying Ender to Novinha, who he had never expressed previous romantic affection for except for when he first saw her teenage face. But otherwise it ends well; an interspecies treaty is formed and the Hive Queen emerges again. This one tries to tell us peace is hard work but worth it, unfortunately that is layered under Card’s love of colonialism and his thoughts on religion.

You want to know what happens next with the Hive Queen and so pick up the third book, Xenocide. With a name like that you might dread the future for the buggers and pequeninos. But #3 is wildly different than #2, a seemingly endless train of thought. I describe this book as Card talking to himself. There is still remnants of his writing there, mainly through the new planet of Path, but the majority of this book is a hodgepodge of philosophical essays on God that he put quotation marks around and credited to his fictional characters. Characters we grew to know from SFTD have been watered down into clones of Ender or Valentine. Except if they are a woman, because then they get a dash of hysterics. It ends with most of the plot unresolved, because the book was so long that the publisher forced Card to cut it in half. Thus, where Xenocide leaves us unfulfilled, we are expected to continue with Children of the Mind to find out the conclusion to the main story of Ender. But I had such a hard time with large pieces of Xenocide that I cannot image forcing myself to do so again with the forth book. In Xenocide, he hits you over the head with the same arguments about peace being worth it but this time it feels more like he’s beating you with a bat. This book really didn’t tell you anything new, only amplified previous messages by 10, coupled with the occasional messy 90s sci-fi that was so endearing in Star Trek.

Card, as a sci-fi author born in the 50s, has his issues. And where you might be able to ignore those issues through Ender’s Game due to its simplicity, his opinions only become louder and more obstructive the deeper into the series you get. It’s easy to miss opinionated content in Ender’s Game when it is so subdued and you cannot see a pattern in it. But continued reading reveals the patterns, and indeed makes those patterns scream at you until you can’t help but cringe.

There are three women in Ender’s Game, and all three are not great. One, a religious mother who forgets her son exists once he’s gone. Two, a sister deemed “too empathetic” and “mild” to be of use, whose great deeds are underscored by her brothers’. Three, an emotional child-solider who is the first to have a mental break during combat. “Two” is Valentine, of course, Ender’s older sister who he reveres like a goddess and has an uncomfortably loving and close relationship with that boarders on something not familial.

But SFTD and Xenocide push the limits of caricature with Card’s women characters. Calm, rational women are the outlier for Card. Where it is unusual in Card’s universe for a man to be violent and unintelligent it is also unusual in Card’s universe for a woman to be unemotional and uninvolved. Ela is the main outlier, here. You can argue Valentine is as well, but by Xenocide she has turned into Ender and I hardly view her as her own character anymore. Long gone is empathetic Valentine, for when she meets disabled Miro the first things out of her mouth are vile insults to his character and personality, based solely on his being disabled. She says everything just short of “don’t be so sensitive just because you’re a c-slur.” By Xenocide, Valentine is not the calm-and-rational outlier woman Card so rarely writes, she has lost all her empathy which had made her Valentine, but has kept which traits that make her reflect Ender’s own. Not even Valentine can be her own woman. If a woman is to be rational in Card’s universe then she is to be a copy of Ender, who himself is frequently hailed as Card’s self insert. Perhaps Ender and Valentine’s relationship, so deeply close that even their own spouses are jealous, is more a reflection of Card wanting to fuck himself more than the other, grosser explanation, which is an obsession with pseudo-incest.

But gender dynamics are very surface level for Card. Beyond that, by SFTD, the main theme is that “colonization and religious indoctrination is a good thing.” The enemy is non-interference, the enemy is letting culture develop on its own timeline. In Card’s universe, it is wrong to let the pequeninos be as they are. In Card’s universe, it is “good” and “noble” to convert non-industrial colonies of pequeninos to Christianity, specifically to Catholicism. In Xenocide, a priest which converts the pequeninos (one of Ender’s stepsons) is a martyr when he dies and he is celebrated for introducing aliens to an Earth religion that is unnatural to them. And this is despite half of the pequeninos planning to take Catholicism and use it to commit genocide against humans, who would die of the virus that they carry, because they believed the virus to be God’s way of purging the unworthy. But Card’s rational is that such pequeninos were “just reading the Bible wrong,” and that “they would regret it,” not that giving tribal aliens the very Earthen, very human, Bible was maybe, just maybe, a bad idea. This could have been a warning to the dangers of interference but, knowing Card and his opinions, that isn’t so. He genuinely sees this all as a “good” and “noble” thing.

Card’s adoration of colonialism is made even more clear in his inability to write space colonies as anything but segregated. By SOTD we are 3,000+ years into the future, 3,000+ years since spaceflight, but humans apparently cannot conceive of interethnic colonies. A colony is either all Nordic, or all Portuguese, or all Chinese, carrying with it the same architectural, religious, and cultural identities that they held 3,000 years ago. If a colony must be Chinese then by God, Card believes that the colony must still uphold kowtowing and the social standards of ancient China and show no sign of cultural drift, save for the addition of computers in each room. If a colony must be Portegese then by God, Card believes the colony must all be blatantly Catholic and built of brick, as if incapable of cultural exchange. Card writes Xenocide in long self-important philosophical dialogues that make you wonder if he thinks the sun shines out of his own ass, but he simply cannot image a human being whom is not a caricature of their society as it was thousands of years ago. He should have put his money where his mouth was and made Ender and his family the picture of White American Mormanism stereotypes, too. But of course he’d never, because he’s Ender, and Card would not want to be stereotyped. I am certain that yes, there are people like his characters which exist in the world. But the inability to show any human as complex cultural peoples who can change, instead having each one represent the accumulation of generalized Wikipedia articles, shows a lack of extended understanding and what I might even call romanticization.

Much of SFTD and Xenocide’s story and themes get lost in Card’s loud, screaming opinion on religion and morality. There was a paragraph in Xenocide about how Ender believed that nobody important ever had pre-marital sex, and how immature one must be to have pre-marital sex. And this, of course, was in response to thoughts about Miro and Ouanda, Miro’s half-sister. Not about how glad Ender was that the siblings didn’t have sex before they knew they were siblings, but about how glad he was that they never had sex because it would have been pre-marital. And on incest- I have barely even touched on it yet. Because incest is a major theme across all three of these books, and if the synopsis for Children of the Mind is right, such theme continues into book four. It would take a while to comb through every incestuous thing in these books, instead I’ve made a chart for you, which took considerably less time to draw than writing about it would.

... But I’ll write it out, anyways, because I hate myself.

- Ender and Valentine have a loving relationship that makes both of their spouses jealous. They are compared to a celibate couple. Card has Ender comment on the perceived strange relationship between them by having Ender imply anyone who thinks they’re incestuous has a “sick mind,” so clearly Card knows about this long-lived interpretation and isn’t happy about it.

- Pipo (father figure to Nova), real father of Libo. Libo, (brother figure to Nova), secret lover to Nova. Nova has 6 children with her brother figure. They aren’t technically siblings, neither by law nor blood, but she grew up with him as if adopted.

- Nova has Miro with Libo, then Libo has Ouanda with his actual wife. Miro and Ouando make out and kiss in great detail. They are half siblings. They stop once it’s known they’re siblings but Miro more than once wallows over how sad he is that they had to stop. He wished they never found out.

- Ender first sees Jane as his lover in book 2. Then later in book 3 sees her as a child. Val, a genetic clone of Valentine in a teenage girl’s body, is taken over by Jane. Thus, Jane, once-lover to Ender, now mind-and-body-sibling to Ender, marries Miro, Ender’s stepson. So, Miro is married to his step sibling and his step father’s ex-lover who is in the body of his step-aunt Valentine.

... And this doesn’t even cover the child-adult and grooming relationships, but I put them on the chart. Multiple relationships start with a teenage girl and an adult man, often with the adult man “waiting” for the child to come of age. Jane is also likened to a child frequently, including in her chosen virtual appearance.

These three books have some good things in them. And once, in 1985, when only Ender’s Game had the great name Ender, it was something special. But as Speaker for the Dead and Xenocide (and Children of the Mind, which I will still not read) released throughout the next decade... the child solider Ender and his remorseful tragedy faded away like fog, replaced by the unavoidable opinions expressed by Card. We all know he holds homophobic views. But his books hold, somehow, even worse views. As much as I loved the conflict between the pequeninos and the humans in Speaker of the Dead, as much as I loved the dysfunctional Ribeira family, it was overshadowed by Card constantly trying to justify colonization and forced religion. As much as I loved the story of Path, the almost sexual mind-merging to the Hive Queen in her presence, it was overshadowed by stuffy chapter-length-rants about God and an insane amount of hatred for the disabled.

Across the 3 books I read there must be well over 300k words, so even though this analysis (review? book report?) is long, if I meant to do a real analysis I don’t think it would fit on Tumblr. And honestly... I don’t want to make an analysis that long, anyway. I had enough thinking to do after Xenocide and a million reviews have been made for Card since the 70s. Everything has been said by everyone else, anyway, and the things I didn’t touch on (or only touched briefly) are written everywhere else, if you want to read them.

For now... I am tired. Ender’s Game will remain one of my favorite old sci-fi novels. But as for the rest of Ender’s story goes... it could have been great, had Card not been the author, or maybe if he’d just stopped kissing his own damned reflection as if he thought himself better than his reader.

#ender's game #enderverse #ender's saga #speaker for the dead #xenocide #book review #orson scott card #enders game is great but card and the rest of enders saga is a huge disappointment #but reading it really gave me a glimpse at how old sci-fi giants from the 80s thought #a dash of fun outdated sci-fi gobbly gook and a dash of bullshit opinions from revered old white dudes who #write like they would mansplain how to hold a fork to you #colonialism #religion

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thecommunalfoolboy · 2 years

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Huge fan of the way the Yugioh card game works, we need more misery and malice like that in the world

#shitpost #yugioh #yugioh cards #yugioh card game #card games #card game #the absolute bullshit that is that game #it’s so fuckin funny #also fun fact #the yugioh show was my special interest in like 1st-2nd grade #i dont know how a 6 year old accidentally ends up watching yugioh #but it shaped who I am

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sinisterexaggerator · 4 months

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John Hancock - NSFW Alphabet

Only out to have a little fun! Enjoy (or not)! This is just my take on his character.

3.8k words (oops).

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

No matter how you decide to do the deed, Hancock has your best interest at heart, as long as you stay in his good graces. He wouldn’t necessarily baby you after sex, but he’ll make sure you’re all right, as you may wind up participating in several experimental or unusual scenarios. But in the end, John wants to make sure his little ray of sunshine is well-rested for round two.

He'd offer you chems for a bit of a pick-me-up, a cigarette precariously hanging from the corner of his mouth—he needs a smoke after. It just “feels right.”

He would pat his shoulder as a place for you to rest your head, then pull you in nice and tight before sharing a drag with you, going insofar as to place the filter against your lips, held loosely between two fingers. No uncomfortable post-coital silence—unless you’re into that.

Hancock might even get all philosophical on you now that his head’s clear. I can see him being into pillow talk regardless—we know he loves to run his mouth—nothing a romp in the sack with you won’t cure.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I have a feeling Hancock isn’t picky, as long as your heart is in the right place. There is more to him than being a “drug addict.” I’d say he’s well-read, even though he acts on instinct—he may be pretty well fond of your brain.

Hancock puts a lot of stock into how people think or speak versus their actions. He’s not a pushover, doesn’t take any bullshit, and if your belief system matches up with his—if he, “likes the way you operate”— you don’t have much to worry about.

Still, I see him favoring something warm and supple to grab onto, something soft to kiss. And he’ll take his time when he’s in the mood, dishing out compliments as he explores every inch of your body.

Maybe with being a Ghoul, it’s a real treat when you get to knock boots with a human. I can see him missing out on what that feels like from time to time.

As far as his own body, I see this man as a bit self-conscious, though he doesn’t let onto that fact quite often. Comments about his “ugly mug” are made in jest, but there is some truth to that within his own thought process and how he perceives himself, most likely, despite the whole “King of the Zombies” vibe he says the ladies love.

Personally, I think his confidence is partially a façade.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person:

Hancock always makes sure you get yours. Multiple orgasms are in the cards, as he knows exactly how to make your toes curl, and he’s not above using that information to his advantage.

You’re the wettest thing in the Wasteland when Hancock’s around, and you can bet your ass he’s going to comment on it every chance he gets. Otherwise, he loves to play in it; to spread the sheen between his fingers; to lick it clean off while you watch, or to smear it over his withered skin, lubricating his cock with it.

All in all, it’s a stroke to his ego to know he’s the one responsible for making you cum that hard that often. You can be damn sure he’s out to fuck you every chance he gets.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

I mentioned this in another post, but Hancock likes it when you’re addicted to chems because he’s the one providing. As long as he’s supplying the drugs for you to get your fix, you’re not going to leave him high and dry.

Maybe he fears being, “skipped out on,” thinkin’ it’s just another reason for you to stick around. It ties into him being insecure—call it insurance. He’s not proud of it, but you don’t seem to mind, and there’s no one around to call him on it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

Based on comments we hear throughout the game, Hancock was known to be a looker before being a Ghoul. He’s still a looker even after his transformation, and he is well-aware his physical appearance garners the attention of the ladies, or so he says. From this we can infer Hancock has no trouble in finding someone to fuck. I’m sure he has been around the block more than a few times, but it would be the appearance of someone special in his life that might make him rethink his whorish lifestyle.

Despite being a bit of a promiscuous rascal who most likely participates in a lot of meaningless sex, when he finds the right person, I am sure he is more than happy to be monogamous. But overall, I would say he definitely knows what the hell he’s doing—why else would Bobbi make that comment about everyone being in love with him?

Hancock’s a catch, contrary to whether or not he believes it himself, and for more than one reason, me thinks. And it is common for even those people who are “good-looking” to be self-conscious and worried about how others perceive them, so that doesn’t change the idea of him still being insecure despite his charm and charisma, though him saying he’s charming could be him playing at being facetious.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual):

The Couch Surfer*

Hancock loves to bend you over the arm of the couch in the Old State House with you face down in the cushions as he plows into you from behind. It allows for deeper penetration and more thrusting power, with your feet either on the floor, or with your knees pulled in toward your own body as your legs hover off the ground.

This also makes it so neither of you have to get entirely undressed if you don’t want to, or if there is simply no time for anything but a quickie. With both of you pulling down your trousers, or with you hiking up your dress, it makes for easy access, and the angle is just right for hitting that sweet spot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):

Hancock is a switch in more ways than one. This can go either way, as he’s not afraid to get weird or try anything once. At the same time, if you’re his special person, he may be inclined to take things a bit more serious. Think body worship in this case, or copious amounts of praise, romantic notions in your ear—that sort of thing.

This doesn’t account for if you’ve pissed him off, as all bets are off, and I’m sure he can think of more than one way to set you straight, even if that involves being more condescending than usual, or withholding sex all together because he’s just “not feeling it after the way you’ve been actin’.”

In fact, he may be able to home in on if he’s frightening you—that in and of itself can be a turn on. Oh, you’ve been misbehaving lately? Get ready to meet No More Mister Nice Ghoul. Although, you’d have to fuck up royally for him to take any of that so serious.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.):

No hair, don’t care (obviously)! But Hancock may enjoy running his fingers through yours, and he does so gently, not afraid to brush that stray strand out of your eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…):

This can also go either way, depending on Hancock’s mood. One minute he’s treating you like the filthy whore you are, and the next minute he’s spewing off the most romantic things you’ve ever heard. He’s not afraid to speak his mind, no matter the topic of conversation. He’ll tell you to suck his cock like a good little slut, but then don’t put it past him to confess how much you mean to him in the same breath.

In other words, you can simultaneously be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, while also receiving an earful of the dirtiest, raunchiest trash talk to have ever been uttered by man. He knows you’re going to come undone regardless—he just has that effect on you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):

Hancock loves to force you to watch him masturbate when it’s impossible for you to touch him. That American flag at his waist serves well in a pinch, able to tie your hands up so he can sit back and pleasure himself without you interfering.

Long, languid strokes drive you mad, Hancock not skimping on the heady eye contact, enjoying it when you come unraveled at the seams. You’re begging to join in, to please him yourself, but this is where the fun begins—cry for him all you want to, those handcuffs aren’t coming off, not until he says so.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Oh, man. OK, here we go!

Praise kink – Hancock gives Golden Retriever boyfriend energy. Maybe it’s the fact he follows you around in-game, but he would take so well to you praising him. “Mn, yeah? You like that? Let me show you what else I can do…”

Role-play – I can see this man being into role-play scenarios. He already basically cosplays as a historical figure— it gives him the freedom to mess around with you knowing he doesn’t mean any of it in the end. You can be sure he’d have a safe word if that’s something you’re wanting. He’d take on new roles himself, or play along with yours. “Big bad Mayor” comes to mind for those of you who want a little more bossing around.

Sensation play - Hancock is big on touch. He loves to trace your skin with his fingers, or for you to touch him. I can also see him being into sensory deprivation, blindfolding himself so his sole focus remains on the feel of your hands smoothing over his callous flesh. I’m sure besides a lot of one-night stands, he barely gets anything in the way of attention. It’s always quick and easy— to really be close to someone? That takes guts.

Brat taming – This is a given. Maybe it’s not a game, you’re just really a brat. He doesn’t mess around when it’s time to get serious, so if you’re in his way, or if you’re rubbing him wrong, expect to hear about it. Think daddy/little girl vibes in most cases, but this can spill over into the role-play arena as well. But it’s not all negative—if you’ve been a good girl or boy, he’s willing to praise you for a job well done.

Degradation – Shit-talking him to the point of degradation is a thing he’s into. Not that he believes everything you’re saying, but he’s able to take a few verbal punches without psychic damage. The more sarcastic and ruthless you are, the more he respects you, and the more it may turn him on. He enjoys someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him, but he also enjoys being put in his place, if you have the balls to try.

Bondage – Tie him up and have your way with him, or he’s liable to do the same to you. He loves a strong, take-charge woman, and a go get ‘em kinda man. He has the most fun when you’re the one who’s “powerless.” He’ll drive you wild before he finally gives in—the best part is watching you squirm and beg for him.

Exhibitionism – He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere; he doesn’t care who watches, but watching’s all their going to do. Hancock’s always down for a quickie, or something a little more intimate, but it doesn’t matter if it’s in the privacy of his suite at the Old State House, or the backroom of the Third Rail. Sex is sex, and there is no one he rather have it more with than you—anytime, anyplace.

Knife play/ Gun play – This Ghoul will use any and all means with which to get his rocks off, and he has a special place in his heart for knives. He’ll draw blood, or not, running the blade across your skin, not afraid to use the hilt to fuck you. The same goes for guns of all sorts, shells or bullets removed. Expect them to be put into places – like your mouth, or cunt. He’s not shy about it.

*I should add he is a total switch. He can play at top or bottom. IMO he plays bottom more frequently for male partners, and tops for female partners, but again, he loves a woman who knows how to take charge – he wouldn’t mind if you stepped on him.

Overall, he has a lot of sadistic qualities, but he’s also a bit of a masochist— he knows when and where to draw the line. He would never hurt you or do anything without your consent, UNLESS you’ve done something to get on his bad side, then there is no telling what might happen.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do):

As I mentioned earlier, this man is an exhibitionist, so he would settle for fucking you anywhere he could. However, the riskier, the better, as he’s not afraid of getting caught—it’s part of the thrill. But if he’s feeling romantic, maybe he takes you to the roof of the Old State House, out under the stars.

Afterward, he lays with you there, pointing out the various constellations he’s read about in books. Maybe he even dragged an old mattress up there—no one will miss it—as it’s a place you frequently rendezvous.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):

Violence and compassion, LOL. Allow me to explain:

Put simply, you putting down assholes for all the right reasons gets him hard. Hancock’s all about dispensing justice, about helping out the little guy, so if he gets to watch you kill evil fucking people while doing just that? Talk about a bonus— a really attractive one.

“Mn, the way you cut that guy’s head clean off—I wanted to fuck you right then and there. You should have seen his eyes bug out—bastard knew what was coming.”

Also, you doing a lot of chems and lowering your inhibitions for him? You willing to get freaky with him? That just makes you soulmates.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs:

Cannibalism, which is self-explanatory considering his comments in the game in regard to Sole if you have/use that perk. Hey, at least he’s not too judgmental.

I also do not assume he’s into torture, or blood and gore. A quick, merciless death is more his style, but considering his thoughts on Pickman and his “artistic flair,” plus not wanting to go anywhere near the gallery to see for himself, makes me think he’s adverse to that kind of thing. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting people or causing pain, only when the situation truly calls for it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc):

I see him as preferring to give, though he won’t turn down a blowjob. It is a high all its own to get you off so easy with his mouth.

All those delicious little sounds; the way you writhe beneath him; the way you hold the back of his head; the way you say his name… It’s addicting, almost more so than chems. And I should say he’s not above eating ass.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.):

Again, both—depending on what his mood dictates. He’s not afraid to fuck you hard and fast, but he can also slow down and make love to you when he’s feeling soft. He’s a moody Ghoul, but it is a part of his charm. Time spent with him is never boring.

Sometimes, pure, unbridled lust wins out, or maybe he’s feeling sadistic for whatever reason—in this case, you may find yourself unable to walk the next morning.

But he can also be sensual, taking his time to please you proper while sending you to heaven on a cloud of fluffy, romantic words. He’s multifaceted, and so is your love for each other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc):

I don’t think I am alone when I say that Hancock commenting offhand about, “you just say the word if you wanna take a little, uh, chem break” is most likely a euphemism for sex and very suggestive.

He sure as hell has nothing bad to say about quickies. Getting down and dirty at a moment’s notice is in his wheelhouse, so don’t be afraid to tell him when you’re in the mood, no matter where you might be or what you might be doing.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.):

Bears repeating, I guess. He’s up for almost anything and everything, minus the eating human flesh part. He’s not afraid to take risks in any aspect of his life, always out to do the right thing, even if there are consequences.

In relation to sex, he’s not shy, and doesn’t expect for you to be either. Feel free to open up to him about your deepest, darkest desires—he would be thrilled to help you out in that department.

Expect him to offer chems beforehand, or to check in with you if it’s something a little more high-risk. Safety first and all that nonsense—he truly cares about your well-being, but it’s also nice to know he’s met his match. That’s not to say he wouldn’t have fun corrupting you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…):

I’m going to say that the regenerative effect that Ghouls possess also allows them to recuperate quickly after sex. Hancock has a stamina stockpile; he could go for hours, or for multiple rounds.

Of course, he also doesn’t mind just holding you, slowing down to bask for a little while in your amiable company.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):

Back to the knife-play, gun-play kink, I suspect he not only uses various, dangerous tools to pleasure you, but also rope, or handcuffs. Everyday items that can he repurposed into something new and fucked up—alligator clamps for your nipples, or an Institute shock baton as a cattle prod—if you’re into that sort of thing. In other words, he’s not afraid to experiment.

As it’s the “end of the world,” I am not sure he has access to expensive, exotic toys, but if he did, he would be sure to use them. Maybe there’s an old sex shop with a few top of the line products still on the shelves. He’d nab anything for shits and giggles, trying various things out on you and on himself. Not like he has anything better to do.

But even so, he probably prefers it just being you and him, nothing fancy. He doesn’t need it— you’re all he needs to have a good time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Hancock often plays unfair. He loves to tease you to the point of edging. He’ll take you as far as the cusp of an orgasm, then let the feeling dissipate, driving you toward insanity a little more each time.

And he’s so good at what he does; you’ll cum when he allows it. Lucky for you, this time he’s feeling generous—but if you pout? He’s done for.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make):

Hancock may make you scream his name, but he’s more of a subdued moan, heavy breaths in your ear kind of Ghoul. He’ll whisper sweet sentiments or speak all the filthy, filthy things he’s going to do you, but may be a bit of a pillow biter when roles are reversed.

He’d still take it like a champ, though, chomping down to keep from “embarrassing” himself. I also bet he’s a bit of a whimperer, or a whiner, fingers digging into the sheets as he buckles down under you like a common whore.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice):

I’ve got two:

1) Hancock is an over-protective boyfriend who is always out to “watch your back,” whether that be keeping his eye out for creeps, or intervening in a conversation on your behalf. I can also see him as the slightly jealous type, though he would bring it up only due to his own insecurities. Otherwise, he quietly stews until it eats away at him enough he feels the need to say what’s on his mind.

“Hey, if you’re getting bored of me, just say the word—I’ll go.” I don’t think he wants to stick around where he’s not wanted.

2) Hancock is into PDA maybe more than he should be. He’d let you sit in his lap in public while his hands travel your body. He’d caress your waist and thighs, and whisper jokes in your ear that are only meant for you to hear— Hancock loves making you giggle. He’s also up for dragging you into dark corners for steamy make-out sessions, or just wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. Let ‘em stare, he gives no fucks who sees you together.

Of course, he’s also OK with just gazing at you lovingly when no one’s looking— not even you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words):

Hancock’s cock is just as scarred and damaged as the rest of his body, but he can still get it up, and the striations and respective bits of raised tissue are basically just another way of saying “ribbed for your pleasure.”

It’s variegated in color, or various shades—pale, deathly white, intermingled with dark, almost cadaverous-like patches. If you’re into necrosis, this is the man for you, though nothing is falling off or anything like that—he’s 100% intact, willing and able.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

I imagine he has a pretty high sex-drive, but sex isn’t everything to him by any means. He’s always down for a quick romp in the hay, but he’s also not opposed to cuddles.

Yes, he’s a cuddler. With the sappy, over the top romantic lines he says in game, how can this man NOT want to bury himself in your arms every chance he gets? And don’t put it past him to be clingy, either. That’s not always what he’s about, but it can happen with the right combination of brain chemicals and fluffy feelings.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

I see Hancock as waiting for you to fall asleep first, or at least being cognizant enough to know what is going on in the event he has to keep you safe from whatever’s lurking in the dark, whether you’re hiding in the ruins, or walled up somewhere in Goodneighbor—can never be too careful.

In addition, I peg him as someone who may be a bit of an insomniac. He’s a bit hyper in game, and with the fact he pumps himself full of chems just to try to get high, I imagine even as a Ghoul it could fuck up your sleep cycle.

Still, when he falls asleep he sleeps hard—but don’t mind waking him. He’s ready to go when you are, just give him a minute.

If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my John Hancock x Fem! Reader fic in the next day or so! 6.8k+ words of porn with plot. :D

P.S.: if you have a specific request, or just want to talk about Hancock in my inbox, feel free!!

****

Edit: Here’s the fic!

#John Hancock #Fallout 4 #Fallout #Ghoul #John Hancock x Reader #Fallout smut #Headcanons #x reader #x you #Hannie #FO4 #Mayor John Hancock #Fallout Ghoul #John Hancock Fallout #alphabet game #Hancock #Hancock x Reader #my writing

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txttletale · 2 months

Text

oaky everyone magic the gaterhigns been fun but we can throw all the last 30o years of cards in the TRASH now who cares its all about bloomburrow now. fcuking look at these little guys. God. Goddd. tis is the only good magic the gfaterhing set. everything else is Bullshit. every other card game can Go To Hell. mainline this into my arteries Please

#tattletxt

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themissinghand · 10 months

Note

Nice to meet you🤗..If the request is still open, Can I ask for Dokja's request for lucky female readers?🥹..Where do reader have high good luck?.The reader and Kim Dokja have known each other for a long time because the reader first started a conversation with Dokja (I'm sure it's fun when Dokja introduces reader to his group😂.) It's okay if not. Just don't be stressed by the requests. I hope the requests don't bother you.. Thank you.. And may your whole day till night be good.. Bye-bye.. Don't forget to take care of yourself.🤗💕

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Lucky Star

Summary: In which Dokja finds his lucky star.

Or, maybe he’s not that unlucky after all.

Pairing: Kim Dokja x Lucky! F! Reader

Note: Thanks for your patience! Make sure you all take care of yourselves too~

Noona: typically used by younger male to call an older female or sibling.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

If there is an angel in this world, then it must be you.

You were a bright light in his life, providing salvation to him in forms of patience, encouragement, and friendship.

You were his manager at the game company he worked at. Someone who was vibrant and cheerful, who possessed an uncanny ability to turn the mundane into moments of joy.

"Dokja! Let’s go for a drink!" You would say, your infectious enthusiasm pulling him into a world where deadlines and stress would melt away.

But you also knew when to not take in bullshit.

“Hey (Y/N), why are you overreacting? Huh? Just because I didn’t do my work the one time-“

“One time? It’s been a week since you did anything. And you put it on the newbie to finish it?”

“So what? You’re a terrible manager anyway, that’s why women shouldn’t work here-“

A snap silenced him.

“Hey mother fucker, calculate your severance pay. Talk to me like that in the disputes office and see who dies first.”

Kim Dokja heard it accidentally, but from then on, his respect for you has soared above the clouds.

"Dokja, you've got this! I'll teach you the ropes.”

Dokja marveled at your ability to lead the team with outspoken confidence, patiently teaching him the ropes and offering unwavering support when the challenges of the workplace seemed overwhelming.

“Happy birthday to our newbie, Kim Dokja!”

“Merry Christmas everyone! I got some gifts!”

“Ya, let’s go out for a drink everyone! I got the holy bank card from the boss!”

The team loves you for being a beacon of light, someone who could be fun and leader-like at the same time.

Dokja couldn't help but think that you must be cherished by the heavens, as you were blessed with an extraordinary dose of luck.

Like how you would “accidentally” meet important connections and befriend them, leading to successful results in projects.

Or how you would win those in gacha games with the character that you wanted.

“Noona, if you were in a game, your luck stat would be maxed out.”

“I guess so, but isn’t that good?”

Very soon after, little did he know that your luck would soon become a lifeline when the world plunged into chaos.

When the apocalypse struck, Dokja stumbled upon the familiar face in an unlikely place – the convenience store, hastily gathering supplies with a calm demeanor that belied the impending doom. It was then that he realized the depth of her luck, a quality that extended beyond corporate success.

Like how does someone find a healing elixir in a pile of junk food in the convenience store!?

Or how does she find a ultra rare bow in a police station?

What is this unfair world!?

Dokja appreciates your help and your luck, but at the same time, he can’t help but lament on his own life.

Perhaps the luckiest thing that happened to him was dating you.

With such a thought, Kim Dokja’s lips curled up and hugged you from behind.

“What wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does my good boy want some love?”

Although he was blushing aggressively and in public, he couldn’t help but nod.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is squealing and wishing for grandchildren]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ play a main character of a romance comedy show]

[The Constellations have sponsored you 1000 coins]

“Get a room.”

Dokja expected the worst when Yoo Joonghyuk entered the scene, but to his surprise, your life was spared.

“She’s useful.” Says the emo sunfish as he glares at Dokja for absolutely no reason.

(Okay, there might be that one time where he returned a punch, and absolutely wrecked that protagonist…no regrets)

Dokja wants to smack him a few times in the face.

The revelation that her constellation was the Secretive Plotter added another layer of mystery to her extraordinary luck. The constellation seemed to guard her against many dangers, marking her as someone to be protected, though for some unknown reason.

Can’t say Kim Dokja has any complaints about that at all.

You must be protected at all costs.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks her lucky encounters and moments are interesting]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ donates 1864 coins]

Whatever it is, Kim Dokja has no complaints…scrap that, he has too many complaints since he has too many rivals!

“(Y/N), you are my lucky star right?”

“Yep! Don’t worry!” She pats him on the head and he ignores the knowing looks from others on the team.

“Hug.”

“Someone’s needy today.” Kim Dokja gave others the middle finger behind your back as he rested his head on your shoulders.

From that point on, Dokja affectionately dubbed her his "lucky star" or, as they playfully jokes, his "lucky charm."

Whether it was winning luck-based games or navigating perilous situations unscathed, your fortunate aura became a source of both amusement and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

“So, what’s it like raising a puppy as a Sugar Mommy?” Han Sooyoung asks you, who chuckles lightly.

“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja twitched a brow, but calmed down a bit when you held his hand.

“He’s not a puppy, but he’s cute and bites people he doesn’t like. And he protects me well!”

“(Y/N)!” Kim Dokja blushes in embarrassment but couldn’t say anything in his stuttering mess.

Han Sooyoung raised a brow before she mimicked a barfing action.

“Damn girl, you have it hard, I respect you.” She patted your shoulder before leaving.

“Dokja, just like I’m your lucky star and charm, you are my lucky puppy. Okay?”

Looking at your puppy face, Dokja couldn’t say no.

“Fine…just don’t call me that in public…”

Kim Dokja felt a kiss in his nose, and he reciprocated the action by lacing your hands together.

“Aw, who’s a good boy?”

“Stop it…”

Your laughter is music to his ears, and while sometimes your teases make him want to hide somewhere in a hole and die from embarrassment, he loves you all the same.

“Get a room!”

“Shut up you sunfish!”

Maybe cursing at the protagonist isn’t the greatest idea.

(When has that ever stopped him?)

“I will kill you Kim Dokja!”

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kathairoscloset · 26 days

Text

Yknow, I know we like making fun of Kaiba for being so obsessed with Atem that he builds a portal to the afterlife "just to challenge the pharaoh to a card game", but I find it so fascinating at the same time because in many ways, Kaiba's grief feels a bit like a reflection of the fans' grief about Atem's departure.

Granted none of us can do the insane bullshit that Kaiba can lol, but many fans do think that having Atem depart isn't real closure, no? For many, Atem dying in this way isn't him 'moving on', it's him just, dying. He was a boy who never got to be a man, a boy who never got to live, and according to the narrative the only way he gets to live is to... die? The hell does that mean, bish he should've stayed! He should've gotten to experience life's ups and downs, play card games, eat falafel, just live life. This is absolutely unfair, it doesn't fit with the story's theme of choice vs. fate, and so and so forth.

And so going to Kaiba, I think a bit of his grief represents that. His lack of closure in his relationship with Atem, the one person who managed to understand him, whose strength he respected, hoped to surpass... is just fucken dead? The hell does that mean, bish he should've stayed! I needed to beat him! I needed him to be here! I need my fucken friend rival back!

And because of that, he goes through everything possible to bring him back. He takes the Puzzle, he disregards Yuugi's worth as just "a vessel", and even after, he still builds that damn elevator just to see Atem again. It's that wish of "he needs to come back" that fans have, only to its absolute extreme, and I find that parallels to it very interesting.

#personally i don't have a super strong opinion #for should have atem stayed or not #cause i think both sides have their merit!#it *is* unfair. it *is* cruel. but how much of an existence could he have lived #if he spent it not wanting to leave yuugi's shadow?#just content as being a half-soul forever if it only meant he could stay with his friends?#i'm going off-track KLAJDS but these concepts are fun to think about #yugioh #yami yuugi #pharaoh atem #kaiba seto #seto kaiba #dsod #analysis #kathairo talks

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pettyprocrastination · 2 years

Text

Pretty Girl

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

author’s note: I finally caves and joined the Ghost pit. This is my first real attempt at writing full smut so be gentle lmao. Reader’s callsign is “Necro”

warnings: smut, talk of body issues, mention of injury.

word count: 2k

-----

Soap enjoyed needling the masked soldier more than any of you did of course, but maybe that's just because he could get away with it more.

You said it’s because Ghost had a soft spot for him.

“Bet you live a real double life Lt.”

“How so?”

He sits across from you, long legs stretched out under the rickety table covered in turned over cards from the others that turned in earlier. You're hardly playing anymore, but the way his boot knocks against yours every other minute keeps you from getting up.

“You’re a right fucking terror but I’d bet money on you being some secret softie.” It’s a poor attempt at getting him to lose focus. So he doesn’t see Soap’s knee bouncing like a blinking beacon he got dealt a shit hand.

Ghost doesn’t budge.

“You see me as the picket-fence type, Johnny?”

“Wife and kids too, I’d bet.” He plucks a card from the deck and grins. “Probably the coach of the football team and everything.”

While the idea of your Lieutenant coaching some junior soccer league - and no doubt getting entirely too angry at a bunch of six year olds taking the ball in the wrong direction - was arguably fucking hilarious-

You noticed a shift the moment Soap spoke to him.

Ghost draws up, like a string inside him had pulled taught. Something flashes in his eyes then disappears just as quickly.

Soap looks to you before dropping his eyes to the cards in his hand.

An exposed nerve neither one of you were aware even existed has just been pulled open in the middle of a poker game and nobody knew how to tend to it’s bleeding.

“I call bullshit on that.”

You could certainly try though.

“Guy like you?” Ghost turns and suddenly that silent tremor of anger is being shot your way instead of Mctavish’s. He seems grateful for it. At least you assume he is, since you're putting your ass on the line for him now.“Would definitely be a shit husband.”

It’s nothing. A light jab at the kevlar covered core of the man across from you who could arguably very well be somebody’s husband -none of you truly know much about him aside from the origin of his accent and his own horrid humor he terrorizes you all with. But it’s enough. His shoulders slump and the tension in the room ebbs away as he leans forward on his knee, cards completely neglected in his hand.

“What makes you so sure?”

You toss your own hand on the table. Cards splay out in front of them both and you hear Soap mumble a barely legible ‘fucking cheat’ as you stand.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.” You nod towards Ghost, who watches you through narrowed eyes as you leave.

“I’m turning in. Have fun with the full house.”

You count ten minutes into their next game before the door opens. You don’t bother turning over from your spot on the creaking couch you’ve played yourself out. It’s only a matter of seconds from when Ghost enters the room that he’s tugging the blanket off of your body.

“Your lack of subtly is becoming appalling lieutenant-”

A sudden pull at your hips leaves you falling face first into a dusty pillow until your ass is in the air and he’s tugging your pants down at a frantic pace. Teeth graze the inside of your thigh and you groan.

“Don’t give a fuck about subtly tonight.”

Clearly.

“Had more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You let Soap win?”

Two fingers slip beneath the band of your panties and slide through the slick of your cunt. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as presses himself against your ass, cock straining against his fatigues.

Sex with Ghost is always powerful. Rough hands pushing and pulling you into place on disciplined muscle in between debriefings. His mask lifted up just high enough that you see a flash of his mouth before he sinks it into the scarred skin of your chest until it blooms with his own bruises.

But it’s different tonight.

Fingers breach the give of your cunt and you dig your fingers into the cushion beneath you.

“That’s it.” His hips rock against yours as you hear the sound of him undoing his belt with his free hand. “Fucking soaked for me, Necro.”

He’s rushing.

The stretch of his cock against your walls tips over the cliff bordering on pain but then he leans down, covering your body with his own and tucking his face into the crook of your neck. Your lieutenant isn’t small by any stretch of the word. The first time you took his cock in full was prefaced by slow orgasms pulled from your body with his tongue and fingers until you were trembling for him. Even then he slowly sank into you inch by inch until you were grabbing at his shoulders to make him move. But now there is no warm up or gentle touches. Nothing but stars behind your eyelids and mumbles of “That’s it, darling. Take it.” that rumble from his chest as he begins to drag his cock from the grip of your pussy before sinking it back in at a cruel pace.

You hear the scraping of a chair across the floor in the other room. Most likely Soap turning in for the night. It strikes you with the awareness that neither of you are being particularly quiet.

“Oh, Jesus.”

“Nah. Just me this time.”

What begins as a laugh melts into a shuddering cry you muffle with your own hand until he grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head.

“Don’t do that, Necro. Let me hear you, yeah?” His breath fans out over the back of your neck. “Let me know how good I make you feel.”

“The others-”

“Won’t do a fucking thing about it.” He rasps. “They all know I’d bash their heads in if they even thought of taking me away from you.”

The double meaning makes your head spin but you push it away. It isn’t something you can afford to think about when your slick has begun to drip down your thigh and the room has become nothing but a choir of your voice mixing with his in the most carnal way possible.

The hard surface of his mask bumps the back of your head as his teeth drag against the small of your neck.

He knows you so well it’s angering. Every curve and crook of your body responding to his touch while you’ve yet to see his face.

The civilian part of your brain whispers in your ear and tugs on the thread. That a man who fucked like this while calling you names had surely been swiped up by somebody years prior.

“You know, maybe Soap was right.” You look over your shoulder and grin at him. His mask has slipped ever so slickly that you can see a scar poking out under his eye.

"I've bet you got a pretty girl waiting for you back at home."

"Why would I want a pretty girl when I have you?"

It's said so plainly. So flat and blunt you can’t help but bark out a laugh that has you squeezing his cock as he drills into you.

"You calling me ugly, lieutenant?"

A trained hand wraps around your throat and pulls you flush against his chest. You feel coarse hair rub against your bare back as his hips snap against yours. ‘He took his shirt off.’ you realize. ‘When did he have time to take his shirt off?’

Sneaky bastard.

“I’m calling you mine, Necro.”

He pulls out of your pussy and you barely have enough time to register the empty feeling of your own orgasm dwindling away before he’s flipping you onto your back and slamming back into you.

“You hear me?” Ghost grips your thighs so hard you're sure there will be bruises come morning but you just nod. “Those sweet tits and that wet little cunt are all mine, aren’t they?”

Even as he fucks into you at a brutal pace you can tell something is different. He’s possessive and needy in a way you’ve never seen but welcome nonetheless. Maybe your comment really got to him.

Maybe he does have some lonely little housewife back at home.

“Say it.”

You hope not.

“Say youre all mine.”

Adultery didn't need to join the laundry list of reasons you were going to hell.

His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and you're shocked back into the moment. “Necro-” he rasps. He noses at your cheek, mouthing at your skin like he’s committing you to memory. “C’mon, let me hear it. Say youre all mine.”

He’s begging. Fucking Ghost of Task Force team 141 is begging for you and its giving you a high you'll never be able to kick.

He slides his hand down your stomach and the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit and you cry out.

"Say it."

"I'm yours, Ghost."

Ghost groans against your cheek, teeth and tongue flicking out in a mess of a kiss to your salty skin.

“Goddamn right you are. My Necro, my pretty girl. That’s you, isn’t it?”

"Say it." His mouth drags against the shell of your ear as he orders you. "Say 'I'm your pretty girl, Simon'."

For a moment you freeze and he wonders if he's crossed a boundary.

No, fuck that. He knows he's crossed a boundary.

Before this it had only been Ghost or Lieutenant and the occasional "you fucking perv".

But Simon was personal. Simon was raw. It was one inch closer to the man beneath the mask than he had ever let anybody else get to and he’s blurting it out mid stroke like some pussy-drunk highschooler on prom night.

You're looking at him like he just fucking proposed and for a sliver of a second he wonders what that’d be like before ripping the thought to pieces with his incisors.

He wonders if he’s struck a nerve.

The lieutenant had once said something of the ilk before. After an infiltration that left you all walking away exhausted and half of you needing medical attention, he found you in the safe house bathroom, blood dripping from your nose and staining the front of your shirt.

"It looks worse than it is." You defend when he crosses his shoulders and overtakes the space around you. "It's not even broken."

"Yeah." He shifts from one foot to another. "It looks like it's been broken before, though."

The concern coating your face in fear of angering your superior was wiped away at his statement and replaced with a flat expression.

"Well if you want to pay for the nose job-" you turn on your heel to face the dingy bathroom mirror once more and continue cleaning the blood from your face. "-be my fucking guest, sir."

He made it up to you, of course. That same night you had spent three hours finding ecstasy again and again with your legs wrapped around his head, the crooked ridge of his own nose lighting you ablaze with the way it rubbed and dragged against your clit.

You were all broad shoulders and hardened muscles. Hands calloused like his own and he savored the way they felt against his biceps when all you could do was hold onto him and muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder.

Simon was nice like that.

But it didn’t change what you knew. You weren’t pretty. Not in the classic definition.

Some days you were indiscernible from the men on the team. With hair cropped close to your scalp and covered in just as much blood and scars as the others, there was nothing small or lithe about you that stood out in contrast to them all.

Perhaps it was an old insecurity he unearthed on accident. One you thought had been buried away but was slowly uncovered by every poke and prod about your femininity or lack thereof by your teammates. Until years of poorly hidden remarks and self image came barrelling forward from a teammate who was doing his own poorly made attempt of saying something romantic while the two of you screwed in a safe house.

Simon wonders if this is the last time you’ll let him fuck you.

There’s a moment he’s convinced it is. You’re watching him with wide eyes, completely frozen underneath him and he’s about to apologize, something the liutenant doesn’t fucking do and doesn’t know how to do when he’s already balls deep inside of you but then your hands settle on the back of his neck. You take a shaking breath before nodding. “Yeah.” your hands pull him down to you as you speak in a trembling voice that has him drowning.

“I’m your pretty girl, Simon.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost & necro tag #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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blackbirdi · 5 months

Text

Game Night (Not a Good Idea)

Brief Description: Things heard during Wayne family game night.

Point of View: 3rd Person

Word Count: 1334

Character: Batfam x platonic!Reader

Every Sunday Bruce tries to get all his kids (whether adopted or not) back to the manor for supper and a game night. And while some of the time the games are fun and a bonding moment for everyone, most of the time it's a battleground.

Things said playing: Super Smash Bros

A very pissed off Timothy Drake: DAMIAN! I AM ON YOUR TEAM; STOP PUSHING ME OFF!

–––––––––––

A frustrated Stephanie Brown: DODGE IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

Y/n L/n: *Playing the game for the first time in years* I don't know the controls...

–––––––––––

Jason Todd throwing his controller against the wall after his team lost for the seventh time in a row: THIS IS BULLSHIT!

***

Things said playing: Twister

A defeated before the game even begins Duke Thomas: No. Straight up, no. We all know Dick's going to win; what's the point in even playing?

–––––––––––

A very flexible and cocky Dick Grayson: What do you mean you can't reach the green circle? It's literally so easy!

Jason: *His eye twitching* Kill yourself.

–––––––––––

A tired of the complaining, Bruce Wayne: Dick, you're not playing this round.

Dick, heartbroken: What? Why?

The rest of the Batkids: *Cheering*

***

Things said playing: Jenga

Damian Wayne, who just knocked the tower over: DRAKE BUMPED INTO ME! HE MADE ME KNOCK IT OVER JUST SO I WOULD LOSE!

Tim, who is sitting over ten feet from him: What? No, I didn't.

Damian: YES, YOU DID!

–––––––––––

A very confused and slightly disappointed Barbara Gordon: Why did you choose that one?

Y/n, who chose the most difficult one to remove: *Practically in tears* I DON'T KNOW!

–––––––––––

Anyone after knocking the tower over: I fucking hate this game.

***

Things said playing: Among Us

*While they're waiting in the lobby (the game hasn't even begun)*

Tim: It's Damian.

Damian: Fuck you.

–––––––––––

Bruce, after being the first killed for the fifth time in a row: Do you hate me that much?

Steph (a crewmate): *Walking past Bruce's body and not reporting it* Yes.

Babs (a crewmate), who people are now suspecting: You're not supposed to give any hints that you got killed, Bruce.

–––––––––––

*Y/n and Cass being revealed as the imposters*

The Batfamily after being positive that Y/n and Cass were the only ones who weren't the imposters (other than those murdered): WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE THE IMPOSTER?

Y/n and Cass: *Cackling*

***

Things said playing: Charades

Jason, after they ran out of time and didn't guess it: *Looking at the card* What you acted out was not fucking Ratatouille.

Damian, who was very much not doing anything to hint towards Ratatouille: YES, IT WAS!

–––––––––––

Babs after picking up the most complicated things possible to act out: What the fuck is this?

–––––––––––

Bruce: I burned the zombie card by the way.

Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, and Y/n: *Groaning in disappointment*

***

Things said playing: Just Dance

Cass: *Doing everything perfectly*

Everyone else: How the fuck are you doing that?

–––––––––––

Cass: *Giggling* What are you doing?

Y/n: I don't fucking know.

–––––––––––

Tim: HOW DID DUKE GET SECOND!?

Duke: I am the epitome of a graceful dancer, Tim. *Proceeds to trip over the coffee table and land flat on his face*

***

Things said playing: Any game involving riddles

Any of the Batkids: I CALL DUKE/STEPH!

–––––––––––

Bruce: *Reading a riddle that was writing in Shakespearean (ye old English)*

All of the Batkids: w h a t

–––––––––––

Duke/Steph: I'm telling you, it's *correct answer*

Jason: No, it's not. It's *very much the wrong answer*

Duke/Steph, feeling petty: Fine, we'll go with *Jason's answer*

Bruce: It's *the answer Duke/Steph originally had*

Duke/Steph: *Waiting for Jason to admit they were right*

Jason:

Jason, who refuses to take the blame: Jeez, you're terrible at this game.

***

Things said playing: Spoons

(if you don't know what Spoons is, search it up because I don't know how to describe it, but it is the most fun game ever and you're missing out.)

Y/n: *Holding onto the spoon like her life depends on it* YOU CAN'T GRAB IT FROM ME! IT'S ALREADY IN MY HAND!

Steph: *Clawing at Y/n's hand* GIVE IT HERE!

–––––––––––

Dick: *Cradling his hand* I think Jason broke my hand.

Jason, with the most "I don't give a shit" voice ever: Damn. That sucks.

–––––––––––

All the Batkids at one point: *Quite literally throwing themselves across the table to grab the last spoon*

Bruce: *Tired Dad SighTM*

***

Things said playing: Monopoly

Jason, who owns all but one railroad: I swear to God, Tim, if you land on the last railroad and buy it...

Tim, lands on the last rail road: *Buys it*

Jason: *Lunges across the table to strangle him*

–––––––––––

Y/n, after buying Park Place a while ago: *Lands on Boardwalk* You bitches are about to be financially murdered.

–––––––––––

*After red hotels have been added to over half the board, and there are at least two green houses on every spot*

Duke: Can I just stay in jail?

***

Things said playing: Uno

Cass: Uno!

Steph: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Tim: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Y/n: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Jason: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Duke: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Dick: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Damian: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Babs: Sorry, Cass *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Cass:

Cass, trying not to fucking snap: You guys fucking suck.

(I'm sobbing. She's picking up 28 cards. NOOO, CASS)

–––––––––––

*It's down to just Tim and Damian; the others have all gotten rid of their cards*

Tim, after being skipped for the fifth time in a row: *Near tears* HOW MANY FUCKING SKIP CARDS DO YOU HAVE?

Damian: *Placing another one down* Yes.

–––––––––––

*Whenever someone wins*

The rest of the Batkids: *Starts a fist fight*

*Cue Uno getting banned from being played at a Game Night.*

***

Things said playing: Mario Kart

Babs, throwing a green shell: *Bounces off the wall and hits her instead of the person ahead of her* I'm going to kill someone.

–––––––––––

Dick: *Picks Rainbow Road*

The rest of the Batkids: Fuck you.

–––––––––––

Cass, before they start playing: Oh, I suck at this game.

Cass: *Wins over half the races*

–––––––––––

Jason: DID YOU JUST FUCKING BLUE SHELL ME!?

Y/n: Yup.

Jason: YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO WIN!

Y/n: That's why I did it.

–––––––––––

Steph: *Getting pissed that she got 2nd*

Bruce: *Trying to console her* It's fine, Steph. It's just a game.

Steph: JUST A GAME!? JUST A GAME, HUH!? THEN YOU FUCKING PLAY IT, BRUCE!

Bruce: *Too scared to play with his kids because of how angry he's been seeing them getting* No.

Steph: That's what I fucking thought.

–––––––––––

Y/n, after being hit by Jason's red shell for the third time in a row: *Throwing the controller at Jason* I'M DONE! I'M FUCKING DONE!

Jason: *Cackles*

–––––––––––

Tim: *Looking at someone else's screen and not realizing it* I am so good at this.

*His character is actually continuously hitting a wall*

–––––––––––

Duke: *Gets a blue shell* It's over for you, Cass!

Damian: *Uses Thunderbolt, thus getting rid of Duke's blue shell before he can use it*

*Duke, trying to stop himself from attacking Damian*

–––––––––––

Damian: *About to get first place* And victory is–

Duke: *Blue shells him* That's what you get, you little bastard.

*Damian proceeds to literally bite Duke*

––––––––––

*Bruce, trying to ban Mario Kart from Game Night*

All the Batkids: BOO! I'm not coming back if you do.

*Mario Kart has not been banned*

***

Bonus! (Involves only Babs, Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Y/n)

Things said playing: Cards Against Humanity

Y/n, holding the prompt for this round: *Looking at the responses the rest gave her* You all are fucking terrible human beings.

Babs: It's a damn game, Y/n. No one actually meant it.

Dick: Hey! My card was not that bad!

Cass: Come on, it's funny!

Jason: Yes.

Steph: Thank you.

Tim: You're one to talk.

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sasaranurude · 5 months

Text

Okay. I've been playing Tokyo Debunker today, since the release happened to catch me on a day when all I'd planned to do was write fanfiction. I just finished reading the game story prologue (it was longer than expected!), so here's a review type post. If you're reading this post not having seen a single thing about this game: it's a story-based joseimuke gacha mobile game that just released globally today. It's about a girl who suddenly finds herself attending a magic school and mingling with elite, superhuman students known as ghouls. If you look in the tumblr tag for the game you'll see what appears to be a completely different game from 2019 or so: they retooled it completely midway through development, changing just about everything about it due to "escalating competition within the gaming industry."

I'll talk about how this looks like a blatant twst clone at the end.

Starting with the positive: The story is charming. I enjoyed it thoroughly the entire time and am excited to read more. The mix between visual novel segments and motion comics was really nice--it broke things up and added a lot of oomph to the action or atmospheric scenes that visual novels generally lack. I like the art in the comic parts a lot. the live2d in the visual novel parts is... passable. Tone-wise, I think the story was a little bit all over the place and would like to see more of the horror that it opened on, but I didn't mind the comedic direction it went in either. The translation is completely seamless. The characters so far all have unique voices and are just super fun and cute. Of the ones who've had larger roles in the story so far, there's not a single one I dislike. It's all fully voiced in Japanese and the acting is solid. (I don't recognize any voices, and can't seem to find any seiyuu credits, so it seems they're not big names, but they deliver nonetheless.) Kaito in particular I found I was laughing at his lines a ton, both the voicing and the writing.

He's looking for a girlfriend btw. Spreading the word.

The problem is like. The gameplay is the worst dark-pattern microtransaction-riddled bullshit I've ever seen. Hundred passive timers going at all times. Fifty different item-currencies. Trying to get you to spend absurd amounts of real world money at every turn. There's like five different indicators that take you to various real-money shop items that I don't know how to dismiss the indicator, I guess you just have to spend money, wtaf. Bajillion different interlocking systems mean you have zero sense of relative value of all the different item-currencies. I did over the course of the day get enough diamonds for one ten-pull, which I haven't used yet. Buying enough diamonds for a ten-pull costs a bit under $60 (presumably USD, but there's a chance the interface is automatically making that CAD for me--not gonna spend the money to check lmfao), with an SSR rate of 1%. BULLSHIIIIIT.

There's like a goddamn thousand-word essay explaining the dozen different types of character upgrades and equippables and equippables for the equippables!! Bad! Bad game design! That's just overcomplicating bullshit to trick people into thinking they're doing something other than clicking button to make number go up! That is not gameplay!

In terms of the actual gameplay, there is none. The battle system is full auto. There might be teambuilding, but from what I've seen so far, most of that consists of hoping you pull good cards from gacha and then clicking button to make number go up. There's occasional rhythm segments but there's no original music, it's just remixes of public domain classical music lmao. I'd describe the rhythm gameplay as "at least more engaging than twisted wonderland's," which is not a high bar

At least there's a cat in the rhythm bit.

And like, ok, I gotta remark on how derivative it is. Like I mentioned in my post earlier, this game is unabashedly aping twisted wonderland's setting and aesthetic. (That said, most of the stuff it steals from twst is magic school stuff that twst also basically stole from Harry Potter, so...?) However, it isn't exactly like twst: in this one, the characters say fuck a lot and bleed all over the place and do violence. Basically, the tone is a fair bit more adult than twst's kid-friendly vibe. (Not, like, adult adult, and I probably wouldn't even call it dark--it's still rated Teen lol. Just more adult than twst.)

Rather than just being students at magic school, the ghouls also go out into the mundane world to go on missions where they fight and investigate monsters and cryptids. Honestly, the magic school setting feels pretty tacked-on. The things that are enjoyable about this would've been just as enjoyable in about any other setting--you can tell this whole aspect was a late trend-chasing addition, lmao. So, yeah, it's blatantly copying twst to try to steal some players, but... Eh, I found myself not caring that much. Someone more (or less) into twst than me may find it grating.

Character-wise, eh, sure, yeah, they're a bit derivative in that aspect too, but it's a joseimuke game, the characters are always derivative. Thus far the writing & execution has been solid enough that I didn't care if they were tropey. If I were to compare it to something else, I'd say the relationship between the protagonist and the ghouls feels more like that of the sage and wizards in mahoyaku than anything from twst. There's some mystery in exactly what "ghouls" are and their place in this world that has me intrigued and wanting to know more about this setting and how each of the characters feels about it. I have a bad habit of getting my hopes up for stories that put big ideas on the table and then being disappointed when they don't follow through in a way that lives up to my expectations, though.

So, my final verdict: I kind of just hope someone uploads all the story segments right onto youtube so nobody has to deal with the dogshit predatory game to get the genuinely decent story lol. Give it a play just for the story if you have faith in your ability to resist dark patterns. Avoid at all costs if you know you're vulnerable to gacha, microtransactions, or timesinks.

#suchobabbles #Tokyo Debunker #it's a global simultaneous release so I'm curious to see how it ends up doing in Japan #it's gonna be competing directly with stellarium of the fragile star which releases in a few days lmao. and is about a magic alchemy school #looks like the two games twt accounts have a similar number of followers #and then theyre competing with bremai releasing in may...#also adding this at the very end since i cant confirm anything:#but i found out abt this game bc it was rt'd by the former localization director/translator of A3en #i dont know if she worked on it or maybe her friend or maybe shes just hype! who knows! but i think her word (or rt) is worth something

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adnauseum11 · 7 months

Text

Restricted Operating Zone (John Price x Reader)

Kate has a job offer for John.

850 words

CW: swearing, reference to oral sex

Kate considers it lucky that John is about as relaxed as she’s ever seen him, because he’s not going to be pleased when she delivers the lines she’s been asked to say. John’s a pro, surely, he knows how it goes. Kate’s orders aren’t her own half the time, and often not a first choice.

“You’re looking better every time I see you, John, still having fun in retirement?”

John nods slowly, a flicker of something crossing his face before he replies.

In a split second he’s called forth an image in his mind’s eye of his love, her leg thrown over his shoulder and fingers tangled in his hair while he knelt before her in the shower. Her head thrown back as she cried out into the steamy room. She had given him shit over making her cum that hard before work, which had made him laugh. She would be back by now, rattling around alone in that drafty, shitty place she was calling home for the moment.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He plays a card and leans back, observing her. “Any particular reason you mention it?” He may be out of work but his senses are still keen to corporate grade bullshit.

“We’ve been having issues with an objective-“

“Oh hell –“

“Just hear me out John” Kate’s trying to get a word in edgewise but John’s not entertaining it.

“No, I don’t need to hear what you’re gonna say. The answer is no.”

Kate sighs, knowing it would go this way and yet, she still has a job to do. She presses on, pushing her luck as much as she dares. She waits a few extra beats to play her card – both literally and figuratively - not because she is unsure, but because she needs John to settle. It works and the anger bleeds out of his eyes, replaced with the cold calculating look she’s more intimately familiar with.

“They’re offering a wildly lucrative contract. It’s a highly sensitive mission, small task force, Gaz is available and will sign on if you do. An intercept and collect. Exfil already lined up. Just need a signature on the dotted line.”

“Laswell, I’m going to get you a hearing aid for your next birthday. No.”

“John, I wasn’t authorized to accept ‘No.’ This needs to happen, or shit gets hairy on a global scale. Hence the price tag. One last job and you can set up shop with your little missus. I’m guessing you two are still seeing each other?”

The mention of John’s love in the same breath as work makes him clench his cards. His focus narrows onto Laswell, and she has the presence of mind to be uncomfortable with his sudden laser focused attention.

“What did you just say?” There’s a very real threat of menace in his tone.

“Hey – ho. This is a friendly card game, folks. Kate, don’t talk shop at the card table.” Kate’s wife attempts to intercede, placing her own cards down and looking from guest to guest with concern.

Every invited guest around the table has worked with Kate, and understand the implications of the work. None have worked as long or as closely with Kate as John, and even retired he’s a leader. All eyes swing to Kate to see how she will react.

“I never see him anymore unless it’s here at cards.” Kate says by way of defence, petulant even in the face of a pissed off John Price. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to start a new life with a nest egg, is all. What if she gets sick?” Her tone is innocent but John sees red.

Kate’s wife is shaking her head in warning, but Kate is too bullheaded to take the advice on.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you unless we’re playing cards, Kate.” John responds coolly, folding the cards in his hands flat against the table. “I served my time. I’m moving on with my life. Don’t mention her again, that’s a warning.” His big frame is sitting fully upright now, the loose-limb posture he’d been in since he’d arrived evaporating.

“You’ve got 96 hours to decide John, or the offer disappears.”

“I don’t need any hours to decide, Laswell, ‘cause I won’t be attending your latest clusterfuck. In fact, I’m not going to attend this poker game.” John throws what could have been a winning hand on the table and stands abruptly.

“John, there’s no need – “

Kate’s backpedaling, realizing she’s overstepped far too late.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks. In the meantime, don’t contact me.”

John tucks the chair back into place with way more force than necessary, spilling Kate’s drink as it collides with the frame of the table.

“Jesus Christ Kate – “

Her wife is wide-eyed, staring at her with disappointment as John yanks his coat from a peg, slamming the door on his way out.

“Shit.” Kate curses, holding her dripping cards up.

“Did that go how you hoped? Maybe listen to your wife next time.”

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos

Next Chapter

#fanfic #call of duty #john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price x f!reader #john price #captain price #fanfiction #ao3fic

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lamoobsessions · 2 months

Text

Fortune for the Fools

Hazel Callahan x FemReader

Synopsis: After an underwhelming proverb from an underwhelming fortune teller at the county fair, you have an unexpected run-in with Hazel. When time passes and feelings prosper, you finally begin to believe that maybe that fortune was right after all.

A/N: Enjoy this prologue to a fic i'm working on, while I slowly hoist myself out of this writing slump. Each chapter will have a lyric from a song by a queer artist, so I hope you enjoy :)

Prologue: "My heart's out. My guard's down." - Body and Mind, Girl in Red

────────────

To you, everything about the ‘End of Summer Carnival’ was enchanting. The pop-up canopies glowing in the night like lamps. The game booths sounding obnoxious buzzers as the kids played them for cheap toys. The tall, flashing lights welcoming onlookers to their sketchy rides, which, to your dislike, capriciously shook as they sat in the dirt -They weren’t safe, anyone with half of a mind knew that, but anyone with a sliver of fun would ride them anyway. Even the smell of the event was kind of charming. Sure, there’s the frequent whiffs of vomit and B.O., but usually those smells drown in the overwhelming scent of funnel cake and sugar. All in all, there was a lot to love about the carnival.

Like every year, you attend with Sylvie, whom you’ve known since… forever you think. You and her clicked. Maybe it was your reserved demeanor and her gregarious attitude that made things so easy. Many people found it shocking when they found out how close the two of you are, simply because you’re polar opposites. Either way, the two of you made quite the pair.

However, at the moment you stand alone among the carnival’s rapture.

All is well though, you have a routine for this sort of thing. You start out with the games, then the rides, then get food, and finish the night off with a ride on the Ferris wheel. It’s a perfect system you discovered a couple of years ago, and it hasn’t failed you yet. The only downfall of this plan is that Sylvie isn’t big on the carnival games, so you’re often left on your own for the first half. Which, you don’t mind, it’s less competition for the prizes anyway.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here, standing in front of an old vintage fortune-teller named ‘ZOLTAR.’

To your understanding, this is the first year the local carnival has had a fortune teller machine. The thing doesn’t even ask for one of your tickets, it only asks for a dollar. So, thinking it must be fate, you decide to try out your luck.

Inserting the money into the slot, a suspiciously long moment passes, a moment long enough for you to begin to think the thing must be broken, and you dollar just went to a waste. Yet, just as you were about to shake some life into the machine, a whimsical harp plays from the speaker, “Cheer up my friend, and listen to the proverb from Zoltar.”

The sudden, and unreasonably loud, audio makes you flinch.

“From small beginnings come great things.” The machine suggests. “Ah yes, and lucky for you the great Zoltar sees much happiness for you in the future. Go out and find it, but don’t run off too quickly, Zoltar has more to say for you.”

A shuttering emanates from the ticket dispenser, as it pushes out a small yellow ticket. Pulling it from the slot you read the back of the card.

It's all the same mumbo jumbo you'd expect from a fortune. 'Things are going to change soon… blah, blah, blah… Be brave in your choices… yadda, yadda, yadda.'

You huff a laugh looking down at the card. “great…” you mutter.

It’s truly is the same fortune-teller crap most people get, but you can’t help but to hope it’s true. What’s the harm in hoping, right?

However, after a few carnival games, this hope started to feel like bullshit. Firstly, your favorite game that’s here every year is gone, then you lose half your tickets gambling them away on some guessing game, then, at the time your supposed to meet Sylvie by the Ferris wheel, she’s a no show.

‘Great happiness in your future, my ass’ you thought.

At least you had enough cash left in your pocket to buy back the tickets you lost. But first, there was a fried Oreo stand practically calling your name with it's infectiously sweet aroma.

Deciding to ditch Sylvie's meeting spot, you make your way to the concession stand and join the endless line.

Minutes pass and you’re finally close to the front, with the delicious smells of chocolate and sugar getting stronger and stronger with each step. Although, another minute passes, then another, then another, and the line has yet to move. Peering to the front, you see a girl fumbling in her wallet, a look of panic evident of her face.

Even from a short distance, you’re sure you know who it is. Though, curious to see what’s going on, you listen in closer.

“Ma’am you can’t pay with tickets, we only accept cash.” The woman behind the counter argues.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I promised some friends-”

“If you don’t have any cash, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the line.”

Looking into your wallet for extra cash, you notice you only have cash for your own fried Oreo and some more tickets. If you were to buy more from the concession stand, you'd have to give up on the possibility of buying extra tickets later.

But, being that it's the last night of the summer and your 'lucky fortune' can't seem to come true, you at least have the chance to bring happiness to someone else's future.

“Excuse me!”

Both the woman behind the counter and Hazel turn to you.

“I have extra cash if you…” you suggest.

“Oh no, it’s…” Hazel dismisses, “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, really. What were you going to get?” You ask, taking the money from your wallet, while making your way to the counter.

Hazel stares at you, dumbfounded, seemingly unsure if she should accept the offer.

“She was getting two churros and a stick of cotton candy.” The cashier speaks up.

You nod and count the cash before handing it to her. “Can you add a fried Oreo to that order?”

The woman bobs her head while counting the cash and shoves it into the register. “We’ll have that right out for you.”

“Thanks,” You smile and make your way to the pick-up bar for the food. Hazel follows you hesitantly, presumably taken back by the interaction.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she comments.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

As embarrassing as it may be to admit, there was always this fondness with her, an insatiable desire to be her friend. But, making friends wasn’t always your strong suit. You mostly kept to yourself, sat in the back of the class with your nose in a book. Sylvie’s told you countless times how unapproachable you look, but you never got around to fixing that detail.

Hazel wears a confused expression, as if she couldn't quite piece together something in her head.

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You begin, figuring she's probably trying to pin a name to your face. “Hazel, right?”

“Um- yeah. You know my name?”

“Yeah I mean, we’ve been going to the same school since like freshman year. Of course I know who you are.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t normal to know random people’s names in your school. It’s a big school, filled with a lot of people. Many students graduate not knowing half of their class. But, you knew Hazel’s name because, like anyone you find interesting, you learned it.

“Oh yeah, right.” She laughs awkwardly. “I knew your name too, by the way.”

You smile, letting out an amused huff at her insistence before looking to the Ferris wheel, where Sylvie has yet to show up. You'd be worried if it weren't Sylvie being her usual self. She either got caught in some atrociously long line, or is currently talking some poor souls head off somewhere.

“I-um,” Hazel begins. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for the food, so… thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. Don't mention it." You chirp.

“No really, I owe you one. Usually they accept tickets at these things, but I guess they don’t do that anymore.”

“Yeah, they stopped doing that last year after some kid, like, figured out how to forge the concession tickets or something.”

Suddenly, her expression turns into one of clarity. “I was wondering why they didn’t offer concession tickets this year.” She pauses, then lowering her voice to a near whisper. “How did they find out about the fakes though?”

“Wait- was that you?”

Suddenly, she lights up, as if she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to ask. “Yeah, I just bought some customizable raffle tickets online and printed all the same stuff on them. It was pretty easy, considering most tickets, like the one for the rides, have special codes on them so they can’t be replicated, but not the concession ones. There wasn’t anything fancy like that on them.”

After seconds of staring in complete bafflement, you can’t help but to laugh. She was the last person you’d expect to pull such thing off, but maybe that’s because you didn’t know her as much as you wish you did. “That’s honestly genius. I mean, it’s a shame you got caught.”

“I don’t even know how they found out! I was super inconspicuous about it.”

At this, you only laugh harder. It wasn’t even that funny of a situation but for some reason, maybe because it was her, you felt lighter.

“Two churros, a cotton candy, and a fried Oreo!” The woman calls from the counter.

The two of you turn your attention towards the tray of food under the pick-up window. Hazel grabs her share of food, though not before handing you your portion.

“Well,” you begin, while unwrapping the treat in your hands. “Maybe next time you can learn to forge actual money.”

“That would be so cool,” She beams, evidently not catching your sarcasm.

“Cool, but also a federal crime.”

“It’s only a crime if you get caught.”

“Thats a terrible philosophy.” you remark. Glancing at the ferris wheel, Sylvie had finally showed. She waited patiently under beaming lights. “Oh, I gotta go. I’ll see you at school, I guess?”

Something flashes in hazel’s demeanor, something you couldn't quite identify before it was gone and replaced by a smile “Yeah -uh, I’ll see you then.” She waves. “Thanks again.”

“no problem,” you wave off, before taking off towards Sylvie, who quickly spots you walking over, and begins to wave frantically, as if you couldn’t already see her under the blinding light.

“Y/n!” She calls, “You’ll never guess what I saw!”

You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “It better be the reason you were a whole thirty minutes late to meeting me.”

“Uh-huh,” She answers quickly. “I saw someone get hit by a car.”

A pit of shock and concern fills you. “Oh my god are they okay? Are- Are you okay? How the hell did-”

“No it’s fine, it was just Jeff.”

Immediately that pit of shock dissolves, and your mind begins to wonder how the whole town hasn’t already erupted into a riot simply because it was Jeff. “Okay, so…is he okay?”

“Well, you know, of course he’s taking it way too far and acting like the car hit him at ninety miles per hour, when in reality it was probably one, but yeah, he’s fine.”

That part was believable. For football players who are the size of grown men, they were about as fragile as a china doll. But, the fact that you hadn’t heard about it the moment it happened… that part was a little hard to grasp. “So, you’re telling me, the Jeff -Jeff the star player of the Rockbridge football team, got hit by a car and the town hasn’t turned to pitchforks and torches yet?”

“Yes!” She exclaims excitingly. “I mean, the whole team is devastated, but the people are handling it pretty good if you ask me.”

You huff, taking a bite into your food. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough excuse for you being late.”

“I’m sorry,” She exaggerates, dragging out the apology. “To make it up to you, I’ll let you choose the first ride we go on together.”

“Oh, how generous,” You tease. “But I blew all my tickets on the carnie games.”

“You serious? Why don’t you just buy more?”

“All the cash I brought was spent on food.”

She gives you a curious look, likely surprised that you, for once, came to something unprepared. For some reason you have yet to uncover, a part of you didn’t feel like telling Sylvie about the run-in with Hazel.

“Well, lucky for you, I stole some of my stepdad’s money for tonight. So we can just buy more.”

you laugh, “I don’t think I feel comfortable using stolen step-dad money."

“Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like I’m your super rich sugar momma, and I’m treating you to a night out.” She shoves a wad of tickets into your hands forcefully.

“Right,” you deadpan, accepting the tickets. ”Step-dad’s money it is.”

“Great,” She cheers, playfully putting an arm around your shoulder.

The rest of the night was spent using all of Sylvie's remaining tickets for eating overtly sweet foods, riding unnecessarily fast rides, and throwing up in grotesque smelling trash cans. Or in other words, the night was spent perfectly. You and Sylvie stuck around til closing and ended the night sleeping over at your place, which is always the go-to spot for the both of you since Sylvie absolutely despises her stepdad. Come to think of it, you’ve probably only been to her house once, way back when her parents were still together. These days, it’s your house and your house only. You never minded the company.

But, as the early morning came and the first day of school had arrived, you began to regret this decision.

Body aching, stomach wrenching, and head sagging like a block of cement, all the decisions of last night finally caught up to you. You felt like shit, and you weren’t the only one. Next to you, Sylvie groaned, dragging her hands down her face as she sat up from the air mattress on the floor.

“I think I’m dying,” She complains.

You hum in agreement, pulling yourself from under the covers and throwing your legs off the bedside. “Do we have to go? It’s our last year, it doesn't really matter if we skip anymore, right?"

“I mean… I’d be down to skip if you are. We can rot in bed and watch movies all day and pretend it’s still summer and that school never started.”

Staring at her with a stoic expression, you hop off the bed and begin to make your way towards the closet. “You’re supposed to convince me to go, not enable me.”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in surrender. “I never said I was a good influence. You decided that on your own.”

You huff, pulling off random pieces of clothing from the drawers and off the hook. “Yeah, well,” You sigh, throwing the clothes on the bed. “I’m going to need all the influence I can get to leave this house before eight. And by influence, I mean caffeine and ibuprofen.”

“Oh!” She exclaims shooting up from the bed. “I’ll get the ibuprofen.”

“Please don’t grab the wrong thing like you did last time.”

A wide grin plasters on her face. “You mean the laxative incident? That was hilarious.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” The last time Sylvie was in charge of grabbing ibuprofen was the night of the Junior and Senior prom. You developed a monster headache from all the cologne clouding the gymnasium air, and when Sylvie somehow came back with laxatives instead of a pain reliever, you were too absorbed in the pain to notice any difference. “I had to leave prom early because all the fucking bathrooms were full with orgies and stoners.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” She giggles.

“Just please grab the right stuff this time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle it.” And with that, she walks out the room and towards the kitchen where the pharmaceuticals are stored. This time, hopefully, she will come back with the right medicine. You dind't want this sudden luck of yours to continue any longer.

#Thank you for reading!#Don't know how much I like this prologue #I promise it gets better #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x y/n

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dmwrites · 1 year

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It was said that the Decked Out dungeon was alive.

The hermits, gathered in the halls and cubbyholes of Decked Out, talked about this factually. The dungeon was laced tradition and superstition.

The hermits said it ate people, that it craved blood. Some hermits had lucky cards or items, others touched parts of the dungeon before going in. They all joked about the dungeon having a crush on Etho.

Hypno thought this was all bullshit.

And while he wasn’t one to diss other people’s superstitions (at least not in a hurtful way), the way some of the hermits talked about the dungeon was… weird.

Hypno could only shake his head and stay quiet. “It’s chance! Chance and RNG and skill! The dungeon is a machine, not some beast in need of hermit butts to keep it satisfied!” He wanted to say. But he didn’t say anything, just stuck to the sidelines, quiet and thinking about his own runs, what he could explore next.

Regardless of differences, the hermits could all agree on one thing: decked out was addictive. Hypno had spent more hours then he cared to admit in the dungeon, just so he could be near the place, hear strategies. And he liked to play, had a bit of a knack for the dungeon itself. Phases one through three had been tons of fun, tons of exploration and death and success. But Phase four…

“Damn it!”

Hypno wondered if there was a death speedrun record yet for Decked Out, and if he’d just done it. Killed by Skill Issue almost as soon as he’d cleared the first room. The whole week had been like this, he hadn’t succeeded once.

“Too bad, man.” Hypno could hear Cub saying from beyond the door when he respawned.

“Appreciate it, man. Ugh!” Hypno hit the button to open the door and went to sit on the floor next to where Cub was leaning against a wall. “I’ve had such bad luck this week!”

“That sucks. Maybe the dungeon is just mad at you.” Cub suggested, looking down at Hypno.

Hypno put his hands to his face. “Cub, what?”

“Well, you know, I mean, of everyone here, I think you and I have penetrated the dungeon the deepest.”

“Don’t say it like that, please.”

“It’s the truth, though.” Cub continued. “You play that dungeon rough, and maybe it’s tired of you. Wants the annoying bug named Hypno to get out as fast as possible. And how to you get rid of something that’s annoying you? You smack it.”

“The dungeon isn’t alive, Cub.” Hypno said, looking up at him. “You do know that, right? It’s just a game.”

“I dunno, man…” Cub looked down at him. “I pay my respects to the dungeon… maybe you should consider it too.”

It dawned on Hypno, in that moment, just how much the sculk had spread across Cub’s skin, curling into his eyes and staining his skin an inky blue. Hypno shivered, and wondered just how Cub was “paying respects” to the dungeon.

——

Hypno went again as soon as the dungeon was ready. He and Cub hadn’t said another word since their brief conversation, and Hypno could feel Cub’s eyes on his back, watching him in silence. Those glittery, dark eyes. The door closed in between them, and Hypno tried to shake off the kind of damp, uncomfortable feeling on his skin.

“Right, hard mode, let’s do this.” Hypno murmured, pressing the correct button from the list and placing his shulker box. A minecart appeared, and down into the dungeon he went.

The problem was, with the minecart ride, was that it was far too long, with too much silence for thoughts to creep in. Of all people, Hypno hasn’t expected Cub to be one of the hermits treating the dungeon like a living thing. But then again, Hypno reasoned, was Cub really all Cub right now? But regardless of who was in charge of Cub’s form right now, Cub ran the dungeon great most of the time.

But he’s just good at the game, a little voice inside Hypno argued.

But so are you… another voice argued back.

The minecart ride ended, and Hypno was facing the doors of the dungeon. He took a deep, centering breath, tightened his bandanna. The dungeon isn’t mad at you, the dungeon doesn’t have feelings, it’s a building, Hypno assured himself.

He grabbed the compass- a simple level one- and snuck his way thought the icy rooms and halls. He had an ear out for ravengers, but something was different. It smelled different. Rather then the kind of cold that blocked out everything, the air smelled stale, but slightly metallic. Hypno smelled his shirt- it wasn’t him, although he was sweating like crazy. A ravenger suddenly roared, barreling around the corner, even though Hypno was out of sight. Hypno ran, jumping over the river of souls and into the crypt. He had half a mind where this compass location may be, and pounded down the stairs. He wasn’t sure what it was, Cub or just a feeling, but he didn’t want to be here too long.

He found the compass location and threw it in, getting his own bandana artifact. The second he picked it up, the dungeon groaned, metal against metal, ice against ice. He could hear ravengers bellowing, running towards him. Hypno looked around, but there was nothing that suggested this was all some kind of prank.

“What is happening?” Hypno asked himself. He tightened his bandana, took a deep breath, and ran back up the stairs, only interested in leaving this place.

The coffins around him were rattling, someone was pounding against the stone. He could hear vex screeching, even though he was nowhere near max clank yet. He kept running, sure of his way.

Ravengers lunged at him.The walls were contracting, shuddering violently as the dungeon screamed in his ears-

He fell onto the pressure plates that marked the exit, scrambled to the short chute that would send him to the end of the dungeon, and maybe he could get out and touch some grass or something. He jumped down into the hole, taking deep, gasping breaths as he fell. And he kept falling. Before he could really process that this was a far longer drop then any other time he’d finished the dungeon, he hit a puddle of water with a splash.

“Yeah, dungeon isn’t happy with you, man.”

Cubfan stood before him, like he’d been there the whole time. The room Hypno had landed in was caked in sculk, all shimmering and almost bulging outwards towards him.

“Where are we, Cub?” Hypno asked hesitantly, trying to steady his breathing, slowly moving to stand on solid ground. Every instinct the dungeon, and life in general had taught him was that something was very, very wrong.

“The Burning Dark, of course. You’re a smart guy, I bet you knew that already. The dungeon thinks you’re smart. Hates that you’re smart. Hates that you don’t fear it like you should.” Cub paused, and in that silence was the heartbeat of the dungeon. “Are you scared now, Hypno?”

In a place so void of information, with only sculk and the creeping realization that Cub was not here to save him, Hypno’s mind raced, but came to no conclusion.

“No.” He lied.

“The dungeon is hungry, Hypno. You die a lot, but you haven’t died for the dungeon yet.”

A sword was in Cub’s hand, and suddenly it wasn’t Cub and a creepy room, but a ravenger named “nothing, they survived decked out!”. But there was no button and door here, no pretend savior. Hypno was going to die, sacrificed to the dungeon by this person who wasn’t all Cub. Hypno straightened his bandana. Well, if this was going to be how this went down, he wouldn’t let the dungeon have the satisfaction of his fear.

“Do you know how sculk works, Hypno?” Cub was advancing, in slow, meaningful steps.

“No.” Hypno looked him down, didn’t move.

“The more you kill, the more it spreads.” The room was covered in the stuff. How many hermits had come here to die, be sacrificed to keep the dungeon happy?

“We could just leave, my guy. Touch some grass, talk to other hermits. You don’t have to do this.” Hypno said, but he knew his words only absorbed into the sculk. Cub was in front of him now, sword between them.

“Run. Maybe you can escape again.” Cub rasped.

“No.” Hypno replied. He didn’t move. Not even when the blade pierced his heart. He fell in place, sinking to the floor that would take his sacrifice. He could feel Cub kneel beside him, take the bandana off his head.

“You’re so annoying, Hypno. Can’t even die like everyone else.” It wasn’t Cub speaking.

——

Hypno woke up in the Decked Out bed. He gathered his stuff, his deck, and flew away as fast as he could. It wasn’t until the citadel was out of sight that he realized that his bandana hadn’t respawned with him. He shivered, not knowing what that really meant.

#hypnotizd #cubfan #decked out 2 #hc9 #long post

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