#erm.... getting a little TOO real for my tastes....

[the-pea-and-the-sun]

whenever theres a scene in a malcolm in the middle episode where the boys are stuck in their room and you hear other members of the family loudly fighting outside im like well this isnt fun escapism anymore

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 28 - Denial

title: just one bite

fandom: secret life smp

cw: violence/gore, very unsafe/gross food practices, vomiting

~

Jimmy’s barely stepped out of the Cherry Blossoms’ Nether portal when—

“What? Hey—!”

Someone jumps on him from behind, shoving him almost to the ground. He staggers forward several steps, trying to toss them off—he catches a glimpse of red hair swinging in his face—

“Gem—” Jimmy grunts, shoving her backward against the edge of the portal. “Get—off—”

She growls in his ear, tearing at his shoulder (between his neck and his armor, a small patch covered by his shirt and usually his jacket, which he had shucked for his trip to the Nether) with her teeth, both hands occupied by holding onto him.

Her weight is heavy on his back, too heavy with how he’s still out of breath from dodging a ghast on his way to the portal, and he shoves back again and this time her grip loosens.

“Someone, help!” he shouts out of frustration, glancing around for anyone as he bucks, finally throwing Gem to the ground.

She scrambles up almost immediately, and for a moment, Jimmy’s certain she’ll jump him again (there’s a glint in her eye, something red that he really doesn’t like), but Scott comes sprinting out of a building, and Impulse comes down the hill from their tower, and Gem backs off, slowly wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Everything okay?” Scott asks, stopping at a safe distance away, keeping a suspicious eye on Gem. Gem moves closer to Impulse, and the two of them have some moment of communication—she nods toward Jimmy, gives Impulse a significant look. He nods back.

Jimmy huffs, clutching his chest. “Jeez, Gem, give a man a heart attack! She jumped me  on my way out of the portal!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come through our portal,” Impulse suggests, voice . . . flat, less joke-y than Jimmy would have expected.

Right.

“Well, I’ll just be going,” Jimmy says loudly, backing away toward the stairs—

Only to get bumped into by another person, sprinting on past like they didn’t even notice him.

Bdubs makes a beeline for Gem, where he stops and she . . . nods, again, at Jimmy.

He looks back.

Bdubs is Red, now, Jimmy saw that pop up on his communicator, but when did he throw in with Gem?

And why is the look he’s giving Jimmy almost . . . hungry?

Jimmy doesn’t like this.

He doesn’t like this one bit.

“Sorry, Jimmy,” Gem says, thoroughly unconvincingly, her voice devoid of emotion. “We’ll see you soon.”

And, erm.

That was.

“That was ominous,” Scott laughs nervously, and Jimmy has to agree.

Then he leaves, not quite turning his back on them.

There’s something strange going on there, no doubt. Probably best to let it be and focus on his own task.

When Jimmy gets back to Baxter (not back-to-back at Baxter, Martyn isn’t there and he really isn’t sure that he trusts Martyn, anyways, as the man is now the only Red and Jimmy thinks he might jump at the chance to make them both Red), he strips off his armor to replace his jacket and notices the tear in the shoulder of his shirt.

He frowns, tugs down the collar of his shirt, checks out his back in the tiny mirror that Martyn had found.

Okay, not bad. Where Gem had gotten him through his shirt, his skin is a little red, some small bruises sure to bloom soon enough. There’s a bit of blood with the fading imprint of Gem’s teeth, only two or three of them deep enough to actually pierce his skin.

Why on earth did Gem bite him? He can’t taste that good. What kind of task would she, a Yellow, have that would make her attack (and bite?) another Yellow?

Weird. It’s all weird.

Well, he has a minute, and he’s already at Baxter, so Jimmy pulls off his shirt and sets to fixing it up real quick, messy stitches pulling the hole closed.

That’s life. Sometimes your friends ambush you and bite your shoulder. Usually it’s their dog that bites you, of course, but sometimes they need to cut out the middle-man.

So really, Jimmy doesn’t pay it much mind. It doesn’t feel strange compared to some of the things he’s done in the past, honestly. Not normal, not necessarily, but not weird.

What possible bad effects could it even have, anyway?

-

“Timmy! Get in here!”

It’s that evening, and Jimmy was just stopping by the Roomies’ base to ask for a trade (his pickaxe just broke, he’s short one diamond to make another) only to find the place seemingly abandoned. He’d wandered around for a bit, knocking on doors and glancing about, but he’d finally assumed that nobody was home and decided to go try Pearl instead (though she did die earlier today, and he isn’t sure how amenable she’d be to trading).

But right as he was about to head out, a whispered shout got his attention.

Jimmy looks around again, frowning.

“Grian?” he asks uncertainly. “Are you here?”

A long sigh, and a couple of meters away, a trapdoor pops open, hidden by surrounding grass. Grian’s head pokes out, and he frantically waves Jimmy toward it.

“This isn’t suspicious at all,” Jimmy says. “Is this part of your task?”

“Forget the tasks, get in!”

Which is very unlike Grian.

So Jimmy lowers himself through the trapdoor, follows Grian down a ladder and then a thin, rough-hewn tunnel, then up another ladder until they come out . . . in the Roomies’ base.

“Why couldn’t we use the front door?”

“Trapped,” Cleo says shortly, coming down the stairs, Etho right behind her. “Grian? I thought you said that we weren’t letting anyone in?”

“It’s just Tim,” Grian waves her off. “We need someone we can use as bait.”

“Bait?!” Jimmy sputters, taking a careful step away from Grian. “I’m—I’m not bait! Bait for what?”

What’s with people and having tasks that seem to directly harm him?

Grian, Etho, and Cleo all make dark eye contact. Eye contact that Jimmy doesn’t trust, not one bit.

The front door’s trapped. He can try to go back the way he came, but he can’t get down a ladder faster than someone can drive a sword through him. His pick broke, so he can’t mine out.

“Have you noticed anything . . . weird . . . going on?” Grian asks after a moment, and Jimmy scoffs.

“Weird? Other than you luring me here to use as bait?”

“They’re zombies, Jimmy,” Etho says ominously, and Jimmy blinks.

“What’s zombies?” he asks, assuming they aren’t talking about normal zombies. Everybody knows that.

“The others,” says Grian. “Gem, Bdubs, Impulse, Pearl. We think it started with Gem—she killed Bdubs, right? Then Impulse. But—”

“She killed Pearl,” Cleo interrupts. “And I saw it. Tore her apart with her teeth.”

Jimmy’s stomach turns.

He’s not the biggest fan of violence, but he can get his hands dirty. Figuratively. He usually has to be at least a sword’s length from any death he causes, because he really isn’t a fan of blood and flesh and all that! It makes him queasy just to kill from a distance.

To imagine Gem, literally tearing into Pearl with her own teeth, blood and viscera dripping everywhere until Pearl eventually died in her arms?

Traumatizing.

Jimmy actually wants to vomit just thinking about it. He really doesn’t like gore.

The injury on his shoulder aches, just a little. He rubs it absently, trying to shake the horrible image from his mind. “So—so what makes them zombies?”

“They’re hunting,” Grian says. “Bdubs wasn’t allies with Gem, but now he won’t leave her side. Same with Pearl and Impulse. They’re all together, hunting every Green and Yellow left. They were after Scar, last I saw.”

“They look wrong,” Cleo frowns. “They’re stiff, and their eyes are . . . off.”

“They’re zombies,” Grian repeats, and Jimmy. . . .

Jimmy still doesn’t really believe them. Why—how would there be zombies?

“Sure,” he says, glancing back to the trapdoor. “Can I go now? I have a task, right, and—”

“It isn’t safe—”

“If you don’t want—”

“We need to find other people,” Etho says reasonably, silencing the other two. “Maybe Jimmy can go get Joel?”

“Or he can be bait,” Grian suggests again. Cleo nods.

“Well, now I don’t want to leave,” Jimmy mutters. “Prove that they’re zombies.”

“Right. Come with me,” Cleo says, pushing past Jimmy to head down the ladder.

Which is how Jimmy witnesses the hunt.

Cleo leads him across the map to the Secret Keeper, where they hide behind one of the boulders, poking their heads over just enough to see what happens. They make it there just in time for the hunt to cross past them.

It’s . . . disconcerting, if he says so himself. Four Players on horseback, chasing after Scar, who runs by, panting and exhausted, his hair damp with sweat. Scar climbs up the boulder they’re sheltering behind, shoots a couple of arrows at the pack that has stopped, waiting.

“C’mon, Scar,” Gem calls, and Jimmy hears it again. That odd emotionless quality, the feeling that, perhaps, she prefers not to speak. “You, of all people, will love it.”

“It’s right up your alley, Scar,” Pearl entices, and maybe it’s a trick of his ears, but she sounds the same way. Still Pearl, but . . . not-quite-right.

“No! No thanks!” Scar yells, voice jumpy and panicked and downright terrified. “I don’t want to join your little murder cult, thanks!”

He ducks as an arrow whizzes over his head, and Scar shrieks before running away again.

The pack follows.

Cleo stays frozen for another moment, head tilted slightly as she listens, presumably ensuring that they’ll be safe.

That. . . .

That wasn’t right. Like, Jimmy’s sure that he can justify it with relatively few mental gymnastics, but it wasn’t normal behavior.

“I need to get some stuff from my base,” he whispers, and Cleo shushes him, but doesn’t tell him no, so Jimmy scrambles down from the boulder and makes a break for Baxter.

What does he need? Some food, probably. A note for Martyn—hey M, zombies!!! bye -J—enough iron to craft up an iron pick if he never gets another diamond, a change of clothes, some other necessary survival-y things.

And when he leaves Baxter, he finds Cleo with Scar again, over at the Heart Foundation.

“Scar,” Cleo’s saying, looking down at him from a horse (when had she gotten a horse?) that seems to be very skittish around the quite new fire spreading up to the heart. That hadn’t been happening when he left. “Scar, the ones chasing you—”

It’s out of nowhere that Pearl and Gem ambush Scar, shooting at him as the man jumps away, fear fresh on his face—

Then Pearl leaps off her horse and sprints, faster than should be possible, diving into Scar and knocking him to the ground. Jimmy winces as the arrow in Scar’s back get twisted under her weight, but he barely has a moment to notice it before Pearl buries her teeth into Scar’s upper arm.

Scar screams, flailing, and Pearl pulls back, stringy flesh snapping free in a burst of blood, and goodness gracious Jimmy might throw up, his legs are trembling and his palms are all clammy—

Gem dives to Scar as well, and her teeth dig into his cheek—

A hand grabs the back of Jimmy’s shirt and he panics, kicking out blindly, he doesn’t want to die like that—but it’s just Cleo; she sits him in front of her on the horse and snaps the reins and off they ride.

Jimmy doesn’t watch. He doesn’t watch, but he can’t cover his ears. He can’t not-hear Scar’s warbling pleas for help, his agonized screams, the slow trail-off.

His communicator buzzes.

He doesn’t have to check it to know.

“I told you,” Cleo reminds him, and Jimmy swallows several times.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Jimmy manages.

“Not on me.”

-

That night, back in the new housing arrangement, Jimmy’s hand brushes against his own shoulder while changing and his breath vanishes from his chest.

No.

No.

If the zombies is a real thing, and Gem’s the one who started it—

Jimmy doesn’t look at the bite. He can’t. Well, he can—Grian has a mirror, but he won’t. He won’t look and see if it’s progressed.

His skin is a bit warm under his touch, though.

Probably just because he’s had his hand on it for so long. He just warmed up his skin, is all. He’s fine.

It still hurts. It still twinges when he presses on it, his shoulder aching just a bit, through and through.

He’ll be fine. They probably have to kill him, right? He’s fine.

Jimmy pulls on his nightshirt, careful that the collar doesn’t slide down in the back, and opens the door to the bedroom, before pulling the rough wool blanket off Grian’s bed and laying it out on the floor, where he’s decided to spend the night.

Goodness gracious. He didn’t expect this to happen this week.

“There’s five of them, then,” Grian says, walking in and stripping off his sweater, left in his white undershirt. He stretches, briefly flexes his muscles (defined by the hard work that comes with joining a new server) in the mirror before throwing himself onto the bed. “Great. I really wanted to have to worry about a zombie apocalypse on top of all my other problems, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy chuckles. “I’ve got a task to do, dude!”

“I’m just surprised they haven’t got you, yet. You’ve cheated death way too many times already.”

Jimmy doesn’t touch his shoulder. He doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah. Guess I’m stuck with you, huh?”

Grian groans. “Tim, I really don’t want to babysit you this week. I’ve already got a dishwasher to keep an eye on, I don’t need two responsibilities.” “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“Right. You’d better not betray me after this. I gave up space in my bedroom for you.”

Jimmy would never betray him.

He hopes.

-

It’s day two, and Jimmy’s feeling . . . fine.

Which is a relief, honestly. He skips breakfast to go on a walk, the early morning fog not-quite-cleared, around the back of the base and up the hill, where he stops on the bed monument and sits, the sheets a bit damp from dew.

He slips off his pack, massages his shoulder as he looks out.

He’s not spent much time on this part of the map. It’s nice, different from where he’s set up. It’s very green here, plenty of trees and scurrying animals and whatnot. If he looks to the left, he can see a bit of the mesa, and he briefly hopes that Martyn’s doing all right.

Who is he kidding? Of course Martyn’s doing all right! It’s Martyn, he’s been Red for ages and fine the whole time. And it isn’t like he could even become a zombie—he’d just be out of the game, wouldn’t he?

Facing forward, he can see the Heart Foundation, a grey drab of smoke still hanging over the remains of their heart. Jimmy can see them down there, Tango cooking something up in their open-air kitchen, Skizz feeding their horses.

It’s quiet, this morning.

Jimmy likes the quiet. He really, truly does. He complains about it sometimes, and he’ll be the first to admit that he can get a little loud, but some of his favorite moments in the Southlands had been those nights on watch, just him looking out over the wall at the rest of the world, thinking fondly of the friends who trusted him to protect them.

They should set up a watch, shouldn’t they? Sure, they’ve trapped the entrance, but that won’t stop a dedicated Player by any means. Especially not a team of five of them.

Has Scott been recruited?

(By which he means, of course, has Gem pinned down her closest ally, tearing chunks out of his face as he begs and screams for mercy, her loyal zombies descending upon him like a pack of hungry wolves.)

He left his communicator inside, hasn’t checked it since last night.

Scott could be down. Joel could be. BigB. Not Tango or Skizz, he can see them. Not Martyn, Red as he is. Not Grian, Cleo, or Etho. Not him.

Not him.

Jimmy scrubs a hand down the stubble on his cheek, resolutely ignoring the soreness in his shoulder.

This is just a task. A task that's turning a concerning amount of people Red, but a task nonetheless. If the aim of the task is to change everyone into a zombie, then they'll either achieve it or the time will run out.

They have to survive a week, all told.

They can do that. Jimmy isn't great at surviving in the best of times, but he refuses to let himself die.

He refuses to become a zombie. It makes him want to vomit, even as he pushes his imagination away from the idea of biting down on one of his friends, chewing dripping mouthfuls of—

Jimmy swallows. Twice. He won't throw up.

Then, from behind—the crunching of bramble, footsteps through the woods—

Jimmy spins around, and Joel freezes, sword raised.

“Are you—?” Joel manages, voice rough. He doesn't finish his question. He doesn't need to.

Joel looks like he's been living in a nightmare. His hair is unbrushed, leaves and twigs stuck in it. His hoodie is missing, shirt is torn and fraying at the edges, one long thread trailing down to his mud-stained knees. The shadows under his eyes are deep and oily, his eyes just the tiniest bit red around the rims.

Jimmy shakes his head. “A—a zombie? No, I—are you—?”

Quick as a flash, Joel launches into him. Jimmy barely has time to put his hands up, to do anything, he didn’t bring a weapon with him like an idiot and now he’s going to die—

Joel knocks them both to the ground (Jimmy’s shoulder lands on a stone and a whimper of pain escapes his lips), entirely on top of him, his sword thrown to the side, and Jimmy doesn’t have time to protest because he knows with sickening certainty that Joel’s teeth are about to rip out his throat and it’ll be so gross.

Joel’s face is right in front of his, suddenly, and Jimmy swallows. His wide eyes are fixed on him, unable to leave his face.

Joel is very close. Far too close. Jimmy doesn’t struggle, terrified as he is (though his face warms, blood rushing to it).

Joel’s breath is hot against his nose, his chest heaving against Jimmy’s chest, and Joel grins, teeth shining with saliva, and leans in even further.

“Me neither,” he whispers, lips practically touching Jimmy’s cheek, before rolling off of Jimmy and onto the dirt.

Jimmy swallows again.

“You should’ve seen your face,” Joel laughs, sheathing his sword. “You absolutely thought I was going to eat you, didn’t you?”

Jimmy shakes his head (less as an answer, more as a way to dispel the embarrassing lack of thoughts). “I just—well, anyone could be—”

Joel just laughs again, then starts picking his way down the hill. “Is Etho all right, then? I imagine you wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t someone here already.”

Jimmy rolls onto his side. He’d had bread in his backpack; hopefully it hasn’t been squished by his sudden slam to the ground.

He did not expect to get pinned by Joel when he woke up this morning.

And—not pinned, not—even if that’s what happened, it isn’t—

Right. No more thinking.

Jimmy rubs his shoulder, then follows Joel in.

-

It’s day three, and Jimmy definitely isn’t feeling quite right.

He’s fine, of course. He’s doing well, even. It’s really just the pressure of everything terrible that’s stopping him from feeling entirely perfect, and nothing else.

Martyn shows up around seven in the evening, and he stands outside of the barricaded wall built around the base with crossed arms as Grian looks down disdainfully from the top of the hill.

“I was Red last week, and you let me in,” Martyn shouts up at him. “It’s not fair! You can’t discriminate against me, just because I’m Red! I’ll file a report with . . . with somewhere, I’ll get you canceled!”

“The rules are clear,” Cleo calls down, standing beside Grian. Jimmy, up on the wall, grimaces an apology to Martyn. “No Reds.”

Martyn does the best impression of a kicked puppy that Jimmy’s ever seen, eyes huge and lip trembling.

“Please?” he asks, voice wavering. “I won’t do anything bad, promise!” “He’ll pee on everything,” Jimmy tells Etho beside him.

Etho raises an eyebrow.

Martyn ignores them. “Security wasn’t near this strict before,” he says, voice smoothly segueing into conspiratorial. “What’s with all the extra care? A couple of Yellows are feeling insecure?”

Cleo and Grian exchange a look. Joel, still working on reinforcing the wall, glances over.

“You . . . you know there’s zombies, right?” Grian asks slowly.

Martyn shrugs. “I mean, yeah? Every night. There always have been, I don’t know why this is news to you lot.”

“Other zombies,” Cleo clarifies. “There are. They’re becoming zombies.”

Martyn’s head tilts in confusion. “What’s becoming zombies? The horses? I thought that was established already.”

“No, it’s—it isn’t—”

“Is this someone’s task? Something to do with not seeing a single zombie all week?”

“Just let him believe that,” Grian says tiredly, as Cleo tries to continue explaining. “He’s immune, anyways. No real use trying.”

“Sorry,” Jimmy says, leaning over the wall.

Martyn clicks his tongue. “Timmy. What happened to the Big Dogs, huh?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you were gonna kill me this week. . . .”

“I would ne—well, I would do that, actually, can’t really blame you. Still, Baxter’s missing you. He gets lonely, up on that hill all by himself.”

Jimmy shrugs. “Sorry,” he says. Then, because he does feel a little bad about abandoning Martyn with barely any warning, adds, “I’ll be back next week, okay? It’s . . . part of my task.”

“Oh,” Martyn nods knowingly. “Infiltrate another alliance. All right, Tim, see you around!” He skips off, whistling a high-pitched tune, and Etho shakes his head and clambers down from the wall.

Cleo and Grian leave the hill, go inside through the secret tunnel, and Joel finishes up the part of the wall that he’s been working on and follows Etho in, and Jimmy’s alone on the wall, staring out after Martyn as he leaves.

He’s fine.

His hands are shaking.

“Jimmy, come get dinner,” Joel calls from inside the base, and Jimmy shouts back some sort of response but he doesn’t move.

They have to die to become a zombie, don’t they? His—it doesn’t count. He’s still alive, he’s still Yellow.

The aching pain in his shoulder doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a bruise. It’s a bruise that is taking a little too long to heal and that’s okay. It’s probably a bone bruise, honestly. That’s why it’s healing slowly. Bone bruises take forever.

He really, really doesn’t want to be a zombie. He hasn’t done anything for his task all week because all he can think about is this awful apocalypse. How on earth Grian’s managing to do whatever it is he’s doing with that Magma Cube is far beyond Jimmy.

He can’t die. If he dies, he might become one of them. Even if he only has the tiniest bit of zombie infection in his shoulder. If that’s even true. Which it isn’t. More likely, it’s just a normal injury that’s part and parcel of these games.

“Oh, Jimmy!”

Jimmy’s heart freezes in his chest.

At some point, his eyes had drifted down to his shoes, scuffed and dirty, but now he looks back up, dread sinking down his throat.

Scar, coming into view down the path, twirling a shining knife around (one that Jimmy knows, with horrid certainty, he won’t use). His voice is oddly flat, his pace somewhat jolting as he skips his way toward the wall. Behind him, on horseback, are Gem and Pearl. Impulse and Bdubs are nowhere to be seen—that gives them something of a better chance, at least.

But before Jimmy can feel any sort of relief over that, another group catches his eye—Tango, Skizz, BigB, all headed around the side toward the base.

Oh no.

No, they’re being flanked, aren’t they?

“Come on, Jimmy!” Gem yells. “You know you need to, let’s just hurry things up a bit!”

His tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, his feet welded to the ground. They’re here, and this is going to prove once and for all that their defenses don’t work and then it’ll be a bloodbath and goodness gracious he wants to vomit just thinking about it—

“Hey! Leave them alone!” That’s Skizz’s voice, loud and spitting fire, storming over to stand between the zombies and the wall, and oh so they haven’t been turned, that makes things quite a bit better.

“H-Help!” Jimmy manages, given strength by the Heart Foundation’s stance, and they’re human and he can’t just abandon them, can he? “Grian! Joel! They’re here, help!”

He fumbles for his bow, leaning on the wall of the parapet—but his fingers feel weak and can’t quite grasp the string. He drops his arrow before he can fire it, and is he even allowed to fire it? He’s still on Yellow, after all—can he fire it?

His moral quandary is brought to an abrupt halt as Grian pops up from the tunnel, scaling the wall in a matter of seconds. He frowns down at the opposing groups below, then whistles sharply.

“BigB,” he says, and BigB, now beside Skizz, glances up.

“Oh, hey, G.”

Scar grins, his eyes glinting, and Jimmy takes a step back.

“What’s going on?”

Joel has shown up, pushing himself out of the ground, and Etho follows him, both already drawing weapons.

“They’re here,” says Grian grimly. Etho shrugs, stretches.

“Guess we’d better face them, then,” he says, resigned in an almost upbeat way.

“Is Scott with them?” Cleo asks, rolling out of the hole and onto the ground.

Grian hums. “Don’t see him.”

“We aren’t here for a little chat,” Impulse calls up to them. Pearl hums, practically drooling. “We’re hungry. You all get it, don’t you?”

Jimmy swallows. He does feel hungry—just a bit, in the pit of his stomach. But it’s probably because he only had a piece of bread for lunch and he hasn’t eaten anything for dinner yet. It isn’t—it’s not the same kind of hunger.

“Plenty of food on the server,” Grian says evenly. “If you wanted a lunch invite, you should’ve just asked.”

“Oh my gosh, they smell so good,” Scar stage-whispers, loud enough that Jimmy can clearly hear. “Can we please just go for them? I really want to sink my teeth into Etho.”

“Nobody move,” Grian throws behind himself, digging in his satchel. He turns his attention back to the intruders. “You’re out of luck, fellas! Nothing to see here. Nobody’s home, even!”

“Hey, uh, Grian?” Tango asks nervously. “You mind letting us in?”

“Don’t let Tango in!” objects Etho, striding toward the gate to get the man in his line of sight. “He died earlier, he’s one of them.”

“I—what? No, I’m—”

“Come on,” Pearl drawls, then everything is thrown into chaos.

Skizz lunges at the zombies, sword drawn, forcing Gem’s horse to stumble back and Pearl to slide down from her saddle, pulling out her axe. At the same time, Grian finds what he’s looking for and throws it at Scar—an Enderman spawn egg that cracks on the ground next to Scar, an Enderman folding up out of it.

And Etho, sudden panic choking his voice, says, “Oh—Grian, I looked at it—”

The Enderman vanishes with a vwoop, then reappears in the base, arms reaching out toward Etho—

Etho runs, shoving out the gate and across the thinning woods, Scar whoops and takes chase, Tango darts in through the now-open gate, and Jimmy leaps down from the wall and follows after Etho, the screaming Enderman, and Scar.

He isn’t sure what he intends to do—kill the Enderman? Stop Scar?—but he follows, struggling to get his sword out of its sheath.

“Get him, Scar!” Gem encourages, far too close, and Jimmy glances to his left to see her loping along on her horse, keeping easy pace with the train of runners.

She could kill him, no problem. She would just have to divert her course a little bit, slam an arrow into his chest, swing her sword as she galloped by.

The fact that she doesn’t is more disconcerting than anything.

Jimmy just keeps running, feet pounding against the ground, backpack bouncing on his back, air coming in gasps.

Etho is having a worse time of it—he’s dodging and weaving to try and keep away from the Enderman, but his detours mean that Scar is quickly closing the distance between them, his sword poised to strike.

Can Jimmy attack him if he tries to kill Etho?

Does he dare?

He can hear Etho’s heaving breaths, the stones on the beach of the lake scattering under his feet, and Etho’s sword clatters against those same stones as he tosses it to the side and splashes into the water, immediately slowed by the drag of water against his legs. Scar continues in after him, slashing out—the sword cuts across Etho’s arm, just missing his armor, and Etho grunts but keeps pushing until the water becomes deep enough to swim.

Jimmy slows to a stop as he approaches the beach, the burned Heart Foundation base a dark shape over the murky water. Etho’s trying to make it there, the water chopping loudly under his windmilling arms, but Scar strikes—

“Don’t—” Etho cries out, the sound half-drowned as his head sinks under the water—

And again—

And Scar takes a weakly struggling Etho and drags him up onto the Heart Foundation, ignoring his waterlogged coughs to straddle his legs and bite into his chest.

Jimmy does vomit this time.

He really, finally does, he falls to his knees on the rocks and just turns his insides out, hacking and coughing and trying not to hear Etho’s screams over his retches.

He fails.

He hears the flesh tearing from bone, squelches and creaks and horrible gurgling, and what’s even worse is that he can smell the blood.

He can smell Etho’s blood from here, where the stones dig into his knees and his vomit paints the ground—he can practically taste the coppery viscousness floating over on the air. It rests heavy on the back of his bile-flooded tongue; Jimmy bites the taste back (not swallowing it, not devouring it) and pushes himself to his feet, even as the last of Etho’s cries fall silent.

He couldn’t save him.

When Jimmy looks up, Gem is still there. Sitting on her horse, watching him.

She’s going to kill him, now. She’s going to lick her lips and leap for him, and Jimmy’s too shaky from puking to even think about defending himself.

She doesn’t move, though. She stays, and offers him a humorless smile, and raises an eyebrow.

“Ready?” she asks, and Jimmy isn’t sure how to respond.

Instead, he picks up Etho’s sword in the hand that isn’t holding his own and sprints back toward the base.

-

“I’ll be fine,” Joel reassures Grian, hitching his backpack higher up on his back. “They know I’m here, they’d never think I’d go back to my base.”

It’s the fourth day, and Joel is leaving for supplies.

Jimmy’s feeling. . . .

Well, he wouldn’t say that he’s doing well.

His entire arm is burning. All the way down to his fingertips, buzzy and painful and nauseating. He hasn’t eaten anything, his stomach churning near-constantly.

He’s been ignoring it for too long, but he doesn’t dare look at his shoulder in the mirror. He can feel it, feel the heat that radiates from it, how swollen it’s become.

He’s fine.

He’s fine, and he’s hungry, and he’s fine.

(He’s hungry, but the food that Grian cooks tastes like ash in his mouth, and his stomach is constantly rebelling, so he usually only manages a couple of mouthfuls before feeding the rest of the plate to Cleo’s dogs.)

(And Jimmy watches Joel go, and something in the pit of his stomach growls at the sight of his friend.)

Grian’s certain that the zombie curse is Gem’s task, that she has to turn everyone she can. If he’s right, then it should wear off when the new week starts.

Jimmy’s already made it four days. That’s over halfway through. He can do three more.

Joel, apparently, can’t.

It’s after lunch that day that their communicators buzz with a dreaded message. Joel’s fallen to Gem, which means he’s joined the zombie crew.

That leaves so few of them. Grian, Cleo. Skizz, Tango, BigB. Scott, presumably.

Jimmy.

Jimmy spends most of the day away from the others, gathering food in the surrounding woods. There isn’t much to scavenge, at this point—he finds some berries, an apple tree (nothing that looks remotely appealing). One of Cleo’s traps has a rabbit in it, but he doesn’t touch it.

The bloody fur and raw flesh is the first thing to look somewhat appetizing to him.

On second thought—

Before Jimmy realizes what he’s doing, he’s disabled the game trap and dug his teeth into the mangled fur of the rabbit, tearing into its flesh with wild abandon. His handkerchief of berries falls to the ground and he eats, congealed blood smearing onto his cheeks, it’s—but he barely manages three bites before he’s violently vomiting all over his hands and the carcass, dropping to his knees as his body spasms and rejects the horrid meal.

No. No, that’s—

There are probably bugs on it, maggots, even, he just started eating a dead, raw rabbit without even wanting it, and there’s fur caught in his teeth and his mouth tastes foul—

He has to get rid of the evidence.

He isn’t a zombie. He isn’t.

Jimmy picks up the remains of the carcass and starts sprinting, down to the lake, where he throws the rabbit as far as he can. It lands with a plosh in the water, sinking instantly, and Jimmy sticks his hands in the water as well, washing them of his vomit and the rabbit.

That was—

That was—

He feels shaky.

Of course he feels shaky, and it has nothing to do with his cravings. He hasn’t properly eaten anything in ages and he’s thrown up twice in the past two days, there’s nothing in his body to fuel him.

But how can he eat when nothing sits in his stomach?

He’s not going to become one of them, but if he starves himself it’ll be the same difference. He has to figure out a way to eat something. Something close enough to whatever it is he craves that it’ll stay down. And it has to be closer than a rabbit carcass, he thinks, shuddering.

He unstraps his waterskin and swishes some lukewarm water around in his mouth, spits onto the stony beach.

He’ll make it through this.

And he’ll get this horrid taste out of his mouth.

-

Cleo has a bucket of rotten flesh that she keeps outside the doghouse, used to feed her pets.

That’s where Jimmy gets his supper.

He feigns eating the porkchops that Tango serves, squirreling bites away in his napkin when no one’s looking. Then, when Cleo wakes him up for the second watch, he sneaks out to the doghouse and raids the bucket, taking whole handfuls of squishy, dripping flesh, flies buzzing away.

He eats it right there, leaning over the bucket, too hungry to be as disgusted as he wants to be. He stuffs fistfulls of stinking, green-tinged meat into his mouth, barely chewing as it slides wetly down his throat, landing in his stomach with a sensation that’s almost physical.

It isn’t quite what he wants, but it works. It doesn’t satisfy the craving, it doesn’t make his arm stop burning, but he starts to feel like he can think through the hunger again.

He stops himself before he can eat too much. It wouldn’t do to finally find something that’ll stay down, only to overstuff himself and get sick. And he can’t take enough that Cleo notices that her stock has depleted.

Jimmy washes his hands with a calm sort of detachedness, willing himself not to think of what he’s just done and how revolting it was. If he doesn’t think about it, he can ignore it.

And ignore it he does, until he’s patrolling up the hill, looking out over the server.

There’s someone out there, far off. Climbing around the Secret Keeper’s boulders. Martyn, hopefully. Martyn’s still out there kicking, somewhere, and Jimmy doesn’t want to think about what would happen if the zombies were up at this hour.

Then he freezes, every line of his body going stiff, as he feels something hard poke into the small of his back.

“Hey, babe. Been all right without me?”

Jimmy swallows, his throat gone dry.

The pressure on his back releases, and he turns around as slowly as he can manage, hands held up to show that he doesn’t have a weapon.

Joel’s there. Of course Joel is there. Jimmy had recognized his voice, flat and unaffected as it was.

His eyes glint dully with red, his skin pale in the moonlight. He sheathes his sword, sweeps back his dark hair.

Jimmy swallows again, the rotten flesh threatening to make a reappearance. Joel takes a step closer, his eyes boring into Jimmy.

“I—get out, I’ll wake the others—”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Jimmy clamps his mouth shut. Joel smirks, eyes lighting up.

“You are,” he says. “Gem told me you’re one of us. I didn’t believe her. How’ve you been hiding it this long?”

He’s not. He’s not hungry, he’s not one of them.

“You didn’t really eat much, though, did you?” Joel contemplates aloud. “I made you a sandwich yesterday, and you didn’t eat more than a bite. Are you really starving yourself over this?”

“I’m not starving,” protests Jimmy. “I’m—I’m fine.”

“When did you last eat?”

“I—half an hour ago.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “So late? What, were you waiting to sneak raw meat? I’ve heard that raw pork is about as close to human flesh as you can get.”

“Rotten flesh is closer,” Jimmy argues, before he realizes what he’s just admitted. Joel chokes out a shocked laugh, just as flat as his voice.

“You—sorry, rotten flesh? Rotten flesh? Jimmy,” Joel says, voice dripping with astonished pity. “That’s probably the grossest thing I’ve ever heard. How could you—?”

“You don’t get it!” Jimmy bursts out, and now he can’t control the words spilling out of his mouth because he’s been on edge for days— “You don’t—I’m fighting every day! Nothing tastes good, I keep throwing up, my friends are dying all around me and then trying to kill my other friends, my arm hurts so bad—”

He cuts himself off, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. The rotten flesh had filled the gaping hole in his stomach momentarily, but the hunger is roaring again, stronger than ever. He can’t even think about it—just the idea of cannibalizing his friends makes him tremble in fear, but it seems so—

So—

“Jimmy.”

He shakes his head, eyes on the ground. “No. I don’t—”

“Just give in.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

Joel places a gentle finger under Jimmy’s chin (when did they get so close?), tilts his eyes up to meet his. Jimmy’s breath catches in his chest; he stares at Joel, lips trembling.

“Just let go,” Joel breathes, eyes fixed on Jimmy’s. “Don’t you want to be satisfied? After so long of denying yourself?”

Jimmy’s tongue darts out, wets his lips. As much as it disgusts him, he really, really doesn’t want to be hungry anymore.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers. Perhaps it’s that, the fear of the pain, the fear of letting go, that’s been making him hold on so long.

Joel winces. “Yeah,” he says, voice still low. “It hurts. But after that . . . after that, it feels so good. Better than you can imagine.”

It does hurt, then.

If there’s anything that Jimmy doesn’t do, it’s pain. He hates pain almost as much as he hates violence and gore, getting anxious over the smallest anticipated harm.

He’ll hold out. The hunger hurts, but it’s a pain he knows.

“Think about it,” Joel says softly, his breath warming Jimmy’s lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

He slips away, into the darkness of the woods. Jimmy stands there a moment longer, chin still elevated, until he can no longer hear Joel’s footsteps heading away.

Then he falls to his knees and sobs.

-

It’s the fifth day, and Jimmy can barely breathe.

He can’t look at any of his friends without craving them, without longing to sink his teeth into their flesh, and it grosses him out but he can’t stop thinking about it.

Grian’s skin looks so soft, especially the skin right under his chin, above his adam’s apple. Jimmy watches it move as they eat, scrambled eggs that squirm their way down Jimmy’s throat and will surely come back up later. He keeps his eyes fixed on Grian’s throat, pretending that he’s chewing that instead of eggs, and the imagined sensation of blood and skin filling his mouth makes the food almost bearable.

It also makes his hunger that much worse, though, so he abandons the breakfast table as soon as possible, hurrying out to check the game traps.

His arm is useless, at this point. It hurts almost as much as the hunger, has become a chunk of deadweight at his side, heat branching out from him to spread to the rest of his body.

For far too long, Jimmy contemplates just cutting it off and eating it, but would that count? Would it count to eat his own flesh, or does it have to be someone new?

Also, then he’d probably bleed out and just die anyway. That wouldn’t be helpful.

He ends up digging in the bucket of rotten flesh after he pukes up the eggs, shoving the gooey, stinking flesh into his mouth, shuddering and gagging with each piece he forces himself to eat.

It isn’t enough. It isn’t enough, but he can’t. He isn’t one of them. He’s human.

He’s sweating all the time now. The heat from his arm has started burning away at his body, carrying an incurable fever. It’s like his body knows exactly what he’s resisting and is determined to make him suffer about it.

“Jimmy, you doing okay?” Tango asks later that day (evening, the sun beginning to set, Jimmy’s head pounding and his stomach growling every other minute), as they feed Cleo’s dogs. Tango turns the bucket over into the yard, frowns as only a small pile plops out.

“Yeah? Why? Why wouldn’t I be doing okay?”

Tango shrugs. “I dunno, man. You look like you’re coming down with something. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m—I’m great!” Jimmy blusters, tension flowing through his stomach in choppy waves. “I, I mean—maybe a bit warm, but—”

“Better than the zombies?” Tango quips with a grin.

Jimmy swallows. “Um. Yep.”

Maybe it’s speaking of them that summons them. Maybe they just can’t resist such succulent, intoxicating human flesh. Jimmy’s having enough of a hard time with it, and he isn’t even one of them.

But the zombies turn back up, jeering and chanting for them to come out and fight, and Jimmy heaves his chestplate on and picks up his sword to go meet them at the gates before remembering that someone should make sure they aren’t coming in from the back.

He pokes his head over the wall—Gem and Pearl and Impulse are there, but there’s no sign of Joel or Scar or Etho.

That can’t be good news.

“Grian,” Jimmy hisses, sidling over to where Grian is boredly listening to the zombies’ cries, his bow trained on them. “The back. Half of them aren’t even here, they might be coming in the back!”

Then, high on the air, a whistling sound—an arrow flying toward them—

Jimmy moves instinctively. He leaps onto Grian, pushing him down against the parapet, his nose buried into Grian’s soft hair, the hilt of the man’s sword jabbing into his stomach.

The arrow soars over them, landing somewhere on the other side of the wall—landing in Gem, if the answering scream has anything to do with it.

“Sorry! Sorry, I was aiming for Grian—”

Grian’s skin is so close to Jimmy’s mouth right now.

He goes still, breath catching in his chest. Wave after wave after wave of desperate hunger crashes into him.

He—

Then Grian pushes him off, and the moment is broken.

Right, right, Jimmy needs to get a hold of himself—

“Thanks,” Grian mutters, then rolls to his feet, turning his bow behind them.

Sure enough, Joel, Scar, and Etho are standing on top of their base, not far from where Jimmy had spoken to Joel just last night. Had that talk been Joel scouting out the area for a surprise attack? How could he have let it go on for so long without alerting anyone to Joel’s presence?

Joel—it looks like he smirks at Jimmy, though from this distance, it’s hard to tell. Jimmy turns away, raising his sword threateningly toward the zombies on the ground.

Down there, Gem is on the ground, trying to work an arrow out of her chest. Pearl and Impulse are beside her, swords raised against any further attack.

“Tango! Uh-oh, uh-oh—”

Skizz, on Grian’s other side, sprints past Jimmy, almost knocking him off the wall. He jumps off and runs toward the staircase up the hill, and Jimmy watches—Tango’s on the steps, fleeing the hill, panic in his eyes and an arrow in his shield—

Skizz doesn’t last long.

It’s mere moments before screams echo down the hill.

“Come on!” Grian yells, and Jimmy blindly follows him down and up the hill, joining Cleo and BigB already on their way. The four of them round the top of the staircase right as Joel pulls a bite of flesh away from Skizz’s arm with an awful ripping sound, blood spurting everywhere.

Grian leaps into action, forcing Etho to drop Skizz’s other arm and defend himself, even as Scar bites Skizz’s neck, blood quickly soaking Skizz’s shirt. Skizz screams and screams, free arm twitching up and back down, his lifeblood and chunks of flesh just falling to the ground as two zombies tear at him like they haven’t eaten in weeks—

Even as Cleo starts forward, Skizz’s tortured eyes roll back into his head and his body goes limp, dropping like a deadweight. Joel enjoys one more bite (and there’s something in his eyes, boring into Jimmy’s, something inviting and proud and gloating) before abandoning the body, running for the woods. Scar and Etho follow, Etho getting a good slash in on Grian’s upper arm before fleeing entirely.

Jimmy stares at Skizz’s remains, at how much red there is. Someone tore off his cheek before they got there, part of his jaw visible, redstained teeth eerily peering out at them. The air stinks with the scent of his blood, worse than any butcher’s shop, worse than any battlefield.

Jimmy’s stomach turns.

It always does. It always does, he can’t stand gore and violence, he can’t see it happen without bone-shaking terror and enough nausea to make a shipful of sailors hurl their guts over the railing, and right now is no different.

Jimmy collapses to his knees and pukes, two meals’ worth of rotten flesh coming up slimier than it had gone down.

-

“Timmy saved my life, really,” Grian says, slapping Jimmy hard on the back.

It’s the sixth day.

It’s the sixth day.

“Then puked on your shoes,” Cleo points out.

“Yeah, well. He knows I won’t forgive him for that, no use trying. But I think Scar’s arrow would’ve hit me off the wall if Tim hadn’t tackled me.”

“It’s good to have you on our side, Rancher,” Tango says proudly.

Jimmy doesn’t say a word.

He can’t open his mouth.

If he does, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist digging his teeth into Grian.

The man is right beside him, one heavy arm still weighing down his shoulders, and Jimmy is overly conscious of how close their cheeks are. He can’t think of anything but that, can’t think of anything at all except turning his head to attack Grian’s face, tear his skin from his flesh, eat and eat and eat until he can’t feel the starving fever that gnaws on his very bones.

It hurts so, so much.

He can’t continue like this.

If—a deal. A deal with himself. If Grian keeps holding on for ten more seconds, he’ll go for it. He’ll give in. He’ll finally give in. But if—if Grian lets go, then—

Before he can finish defining the deal in his feverish, disconnected thoughts, Grian hops away, off to the small kitchen in the corner, dishing up toast for everyone.

“Skizz will definitely come for me and BigB,” Tango says, taking one of the plates from the counter and sitting at the table. “This place isn’t working anymore—every time they get another one, they’ll just be one closer to totally overwhelming us.”

“So we need to hide,” nods Cleo.

“We need to get out of here,” Grian agrees. “I was thinking maybe the mesa? We can pay Martyn off to keep them distracted, maybe, and hide in the tunnels where we got the Warden.”

“Wouldn’t Etho want to check there?”

“Oh, right, that might be the first place. . . .”

“We could go to my backrooms,” BigB says.

“That sounds terrifying.”

“What? They’re totally normal!”

Sweat drips into Jimmy’s eyes.

The conversation blurs into background noise.

Grian’s not wearing any armor. Cleo already slapped on a chestplate, and Tango and BigB are fully kitted out, but Grian’s still just wearing his sweater and jeans.

He looks. . . .

His stomach is so empty. Jimmy’s stomach feels like it’s tearing itself apart. That’ll kill him. He’s starving.

Surely. . . .

Surely one bite won’t turn him into a zombie?

Just—just one bite, just something to ease the hunger pangs the slightest bit, something to tide him over until the end of the week. He won’t take any more than that, just that one bite, and then he’ll be quiet and do his job, he promises.

Just one bite, one bite of Grian’s mouthwatering flesh, surely he wouldn’t begrudge him one bite? Jimmy saved his life, after all. One bite won’t turn him into a zombie—after all, Jimmy was bit ages ago, and he’s fine!

One bite can’t hurt. It would just be to quell his shaking mind. He’s fine, he just needs one bite. Just one bite.

The sun coming through the window warms Grian’s cheek, a slight rose tinting his pale flesh as he laughs at something Cleo said. It looks delectable, melt-in-the-mouth, disgustingly delicious and it’s everything Jimmy needs, he just needs a little bit, just one bite, that’s all, just the cheek—or some other part, wherever is least inconvenient for Grian, wherever he wants it to be, just one bite—

“Don’t you think, Tim—”

Jimmy can’t hold himself back. He dives across the table with a crash that shakes the whole house, sending toast and plates flying, reaching for Grian, mouth already open—

“Jimmy!” “Hey, what—” He has to! None of them understand, he has to, Jimmy can’t survive any longer like this, he needs—he needs it—just one bite, he just needs a little bit, he just needs to tear Grian apart under his teeth, he needs blood and flesh in his mouth and sliding down his throat in satisfying chunks, he just needs—

Strong hands pull him back. Everyone is yelling, all around him, and Jimmy’s teeth snap down around nothing as Grian scrambles back, knocking his chair over and falling to the floor.

No, no no no, he just needs a bite—

“Just one bite,” he sobs desperately, tears streaming from his eyes as drool drips from his lips. “Please, any of you, just one—just one bite, I promise, I just need one, I’m so sorry—”

They don’t give it to him.

They want him to starve.

They pull him down hard into his chair, and Jimmy barely has time to struggle before they tie him down, heavy ropes pulled tight around his growling stomach and over his pounding heart. He writhes, tries to get at whoever is closest, but his mouth can’t quite reach anyone.

No, no, please! Please!

“Jimmy,” Tango says, and Jimmy manages to focus long enough on his face to see the shocked disappointment painting it. “Jimmy, how long?”

Jimmy takes in a shuddering breath, one that doesn’t fill the hole in his stomach. “Please,” he begs. He can’t take it anymore, he can’t, it hurts so much, he’s going to fall apart but he only needs a little bit to keep going! “Please, just one bite, please!”

“Of course!” Grian says angrily, tossing up his hands. “Of course it would be Tim, of course Timmy would hide that he got bit! You’re the person that everyone hates in zombie movies, Tim! You aren’t special, you moron!”

He doesn’t get close enough for Jimmy to even attempt to reach for, but his lips tremble as he stares at Grian’s flesh anyways, desperate for just a taste. He’s finally broken, he’s finally given in, but he doesn’t need much. Anything, please, anything.

They don’t give him anything.

They leave.

They leave, and they leave him there, and they show Jimmy Grian’s communicator—

<Grian> left you zombies a gift at the base

And he’s there alone.

Alone, shaking and starving, fever and pain radiating through him in waves, he just needed one bite. . . .

“Well. You know, we don’t usually have a taste for people like us, but. . . .” Joel smirks from the entrance, eyes fixated on the tears streaming down Jimmy’s face, at the reddened veins crawling up his neck from his useless arm, at the hunger etched deep into his fearful eyes.

Joel lunges for him, and Jimmy closes his eyes and hopes that he doesn’t throw up as he feels his stomach be literally torn open.

[desultory-novice]

I find it hilarious that kirby doesn't know how to read or write. Yet he completely understands the concept of money and how it works!

So... I had a lot to say about the "Kirby can't read" thing?!?

See, this struck me last time I saw someone bring up Kirby can't read as proof Kirby is a very young child. (1) Speaking broadly, we as a species tie age/intelligence to reading level, which, by my reckoning, is a holdover of the school system. (:cough: That or callous systems of oppression to deny various people rights based on things like money, land, freedom, gender, religion, race, etc :cough:)

A Kirby who can't read must be a Kirby who hasn't gone to school!

But wait... ..."School??"

[continued below...w/ pictures!]

-

Is there even "school" in Dream Land? Waddle Dees seem to get put to work serving the king or guarding treasure or swinging happily across train tracks ("Oh my god, he's got airpods in! He can't hear us!") pretty much from the moment they make their first "Wanya!" In fact, Wise Waddle Dee seems to have become "wise" because...he found a book? Now, he was able to read it, but how long did it take him?? Can the other Waddle Dees read? Was Delivery Waddle Dee (?) taught to read by Wise Waddle Dee? How long did it take them to acquire this skill? They've all been there for X amount of time...

If Dream Land and Popstar as a whole has no mandatory schooling -public, private, or otherwise - can we really judge intelligence or age based on the same things we judge them on in the real world?

Another thing that made me question the logic of age = schooling was, amusingly enough, deciding to finally check out a rather FAMOUS episode of the anime...

A shame that the, erm, "feel good" ending leaves a bitter taste in the mouth now.

Anyway, the reason I went to watch the whole thing in the original Japanese was because I spotted something of interest and had to confirm it for myself...

King Dedede (at least in the anime) can't read either!

Now, Anime King Dedede also has cartoon human teeth (?) drives a ridiculously sized car everywhere, and abuses his gay snail second-in-command for "comedy" + a lot of other things we very much doubt of our beloved game Dedede. He's also portrayed as comically dumb. A little sad that the anime uses lack of literacy as an indicator that "Oh, look! He's embarrassingly stupid!" (That whole episode was Escargoon's fault. Not that I blame him, given the way Dedede treats him, but you really couldn't have just read the book aloud?!)

Anyway - because I'm me and I love to overanalyze insignificant or discarded tidbits and try to find clever ways to re-apply them in various canon - I thought about this and considered, "Yes, indeed! Why WOULD Dream Land have traditional schooling?! Why would anyone without a specific interest in books have any need develop the skill of reading in this world?" What is there TO read, even?

(Helpful road signs? All visual!)

My interpretation, at least, is that game Dedede is intelligent, if flawed. Still, he builds robots! He's good at chess! But these "smart" things are no indication he's good at reading or writing.

The note sent to Kirby in Kirby Fighters 2? We don't know Dedede wrote that. Meta Knight, who can read (...or so we assume?!?! Maybe That Book Meta Knight Was Reading on the Knoll in the Opening Cutscene for Return to Dream Land and Return to Dream Land Deluxe is a picture book!) might have written it for the two of them. Although... this puts another funny, twisty idea in my head!

We gather that, regardless of Kirby's need to read, Kirby has terrible handwriting, as implied by Kirby and the Forgotten Land. (Planet Robobot as well as various merch shows us that Kirby's not all that good at art, either.) Which is excusable, since they're writing with little nubs! Meta Knight has nubs too, but he covers them with (magical?) gloves that somehow give them better grip??

With these pseudo-hands, Meta Knight MUST be better at both letter writing and art than Kirby! Except... do we know that for sure...?

I point you to a certain Star Allies picture where Meta Knight's mirror duplicate, Dark Meta Knight, is drawing peacefully alongside Adeleine, Ribbon, and Daroach. Adeleine aside, the rest are, y'know, decent! ...Except Dark Meta Knight, who is TERRIBLE. Maybe even worse than Kirby! But...if Dark Meta Knight draws as badly as Kirby, and Dark Meta Knight is Meta Knight's mirror world duplicate...

Do you see where I'm going with this...?

(I blew out all my art skills on Apologies. Take this Kirby Meta Knight tier scribble...)

Just imagine, King Dedede boldly dictating the duo's letter of challenge to Meta Knight for the knight to write down... horribly! And King Dedede, who can't read, has no idea it's written in "Nub Scratch," nods happily that their "flawless" letter should be sent to Kirby immediately! Meta Knight, who cares about his image, does not clue him in to the truth. Neither does Kirby, who couldn't read it even if it were legible. Meta Knight's bad handwriting remains a secret that goes with him to his probably very cool-looking grave!

...

As for how money fits into the low-literacy world of Kirby, it's not hard to imagine King Dedede being responsible for that! The man loves his shinies! Assuming he wasn't born with a king's robe and crown on him, we have to accept that he dressed himself that way because he likes it! He likes being/looking wealthy and in charge. He likes gold. Maybe not as much as a certain rat, but enough.

And what is a kingdom without its own currency? ...Or maybe all those treasures in the Great Cave Offensive came with price tags and Kirby's just dutifully reporting the numbers to us?

--

(1)Young/Child Kirby is fine, btw! Honestly, some more modern content, like the concert, have been skewing in a young Kirby direction, with Kirby needing to take a nap in the middle of the show due to how late it was. As an old school fan, I still prefer my Kirby to be something unfathomably old (yet forever young at heart) or something cosmic beyond our mortal concept of age while still somehow able to be a friend to all... but that's a Dess-Lore thing!

(2) Of course, Kirby (and by association, Meta Knight) aren't natives to Popstar - Kirby being a wanderer carried on a Spring Breeze - thus, Dream Land's lack of an education system wouldn't affect whether the two know how to read or write. But I believe the same "Why does reading matter on their planet of origin?" / "Why would they have such a system?" COULD apply to them as well.

...For the humor of it, if nothing else!

[chryblossomjjk]

bts fic recommendations | 03.14.23

→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren’t i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs

banana clip - @vvh0adie (jhs x jjk x reader | angst, fluff, smut)

summary: nature is great at putting you to sleep. but man-made objects are just as good at waking you up with annoyance. and they’re even better at messing with your senses overall. but nature also made the two most wonderful men who you get to call your boyfriends, and they know just how to comfort you.

for one, let me just say this graphic goes crazy eep!!!

also let me just say, you would write a mean fantasy fic bc the scene setting in the first segment is so good. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT WORLD BUILDING?? YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT WORLD BUILDING???? YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT MAKING THE SETTING REFLECT THE CHARACTER??? THIS IS IT!!

also i think the representation in the fic is so fucking important like- to have the reader be queer, chubby, and neurodivergent and then depicting in detail the things that come along with it is really great!! especially bc so many young adults read fanfic and thats such a complex time where you're juggling different parts of your identity and how they coexist!! just seriously thank you for writing this!!

"His large hands make haste of grabbing as much of your ass as he possibly can and giving it a good squeeze, oil slick painted nails leaving crescent indentation on your melanated skin. The succulent pain causes a moan to escape your lips. You always knew how to break them down, but he could play too."

oof when i tell u i read this paragraph multiple fucking times bc YOU PICKED OIL SLICK NAIL HOBI I COULD DESTROY MY FUCKING ROOM RN LMAO

“Ah, fuck, it’s times like these when I remember how much of a slut you are.”

dom hobi rattles the fucking peanut in my skull bc i know for a fact that man is the kinkest dom sex freak out here PLS!!! and the mentions of kook throughout made everything incredibly hotter like uGh!! and then i really love when sweet aftercare n cleaning up is added into fanfic after a dommy moment :') <3 overall, this was the hottest shit ever pls fucking read this yall NOW I SAY NOW LMAO!!

paired & pierced - @yoon-kooks (jjk x reader | college au, smut, fluff)

summary: when your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with jeon jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. if you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.

so as soon as i saw that pairing i knew i was a goner!! but babe, this fic made me discover kinks i didn't even know i had like erm?? CAWK TATTOO??? OF A SNAKE???

I HAVE A NEW FETISH LMAO!!! thats like one of the hottest visuals i've ever read in fanfic and it will plague my daydreams from here on out!

where does one find a friend like oc who hooks you up with men like JUNG HOSEOK ?? she is so real for that (one is incredibly lonely despite having friends and never gets checked on by those around her unless they need something which i feel like is so relatable to so many people like i can totally tell why so many readers were drawn to this fic)!! and tim can catch this knuckle sandwich bc FUCK HIM >:(

also the newborn joke made me audibly crack up like the bleak dry humor is fucking hilarious to me-

and i just love their dynamic? like the way you wrote their dialogue is just so natural, which seems simple on the outside but as fic writer i understand that writing believable dialogue is so INSANELY difficult like you literally have to be an a1 writer to nail it as good as you did in this fic!! the talent is screaming!! same goes for the smut!! it was so fucking hot and everything kook said had my coochie wet pls!! i just love the switch for apathetic to complete sex god uGh! i love u n this saur fucking much!!

nature cafe - @virgodolls (jjk x reader | s2l)

oh my goodness i love this so much! like when you told me you were a new writer on here i was already extremely excited, but after reading this, my excitement for your future works has doubled, TRIPLED! you are bringing something new and refreshing to the table! like don't get me wrong i looooveee smut (legit all i write is smut-) but slice of life content is kind of hard to find on this platform! so reading this was such a welcomed change and i loved it wholeheartedly!

you really have a knack for writing in the perspective of the character, which is not an easy thing to do AT ALL! ITS SO DIFFICULT! AND YOU EXECUTED IT SO FLAWLESSY HERE AND ITS ONLY YOUR FIRST FIC? PLS THE TALENT IS UNREAL!!

i also really loved this oc! as someone who is also v sensitive and easily overwhelmed, i didn't find her annoying at all, just incredibly endearing and relatable! THIS JUNGKOOK IS ALSO SUCH BOYFRIEND MATERIAL AND SO SWEET LIKE IM TRYING TO PICK HIM UP TOO UM??? anyways, thank you for sharing your writing! its definitely so scary at first but you did it and you should be v proud of yourself!! i am proud of you!!

[moonlightmaeve]

This is one of the first Dracula fanfics I wrote, I put Dracula's words and actions into red to help distinguish them from mine. Let me know your thoughts on how this affects the flow/readability. For a bit of context, this is based on BBCs 2020 Dracula. One of his powers is obtaining memories and information through the taste and smell of blood. That's why he licks for a term he'd forgotten. Please let me know if you enjoy this and if I should post more of my writing!!!

"Drac, do you think I'm a bad person?"

"I think that's a bit too philosophical for a Friday night."

"But you love philosophy."

"I like to study philosophy in the same way that you like to study black holes. You cannot even imagine–"

*looks pensively and moves his tongue around in his mouth before resorting to licking the small wounds on my neck*

"–ah yes spaghettification. I cannot even imagine morality. You don't wish to be crushed by the indescribable force beyond an event horizon and I would hate to believe in good or evil."

"Now THAT'S too philosophical for a Friday night. Just answer my question."

"I'll humour you since I am the closest thing to a god that you will ever know. Everything I know about morality is what the blood tells me. Some people regard themselves as honourable but are quite bitter."

*he moves closer to me, and places his hands authoritatively on my shoulder and looks into my eyes.*

"You often have the soured tinge of guilt, a habit that you must cut back on, for the sake of my enjoyment."

"So my blood tells you I'm guilty? By that account I should be terribly ugly as well."

*getting notably frustrated* "No. Your blood tells me that you are still caught up in the lies humanity likes to tell itself. Concepts of good and evil, beautiful and ugly. They are nearly completely absent from the rest of the universe. They live only in feeble minds that allow them to simmer and grow."

"But when I feel guilt, it becomes real because it is real to me. Isn't that how everything is created?"

"My god, clearly you're not listening to me."

*I grin at the opportunity for a joke to break growing tension* "my... what? I thought that's a name we don't say in this house."

*he flashes a mischievous smirk back at me* "quite right my dear" *moving his hands from my shoulders to my waist to pull me closer to him* "we also don't talk about good and bad" *he kisses my head*

"I'll try to avoid it in the future, maybe we should start a swear jar or something, in case I bring up ethics again."

*looking obviously amused and curious, his voice takes on a decisively playful tone.* "a swear jar??"

"Ya know it's like I have to give you some money every time I swear. Except for instead of saying FUCK, it'll be 'good or evil.'"

"Watch your tongue young lady, or I'll pierce it for you. And yes now that you say that I do recall it, from the 80s. Money is something I have little need for and much of. Now attend my words very carefully darling. Your beloved cat kills baby birds because she was made by nature to do so. I erm ‐harvest‐ blood because I need it to survive. And you, you are often moved by something unseen and powerful that you crave. There is no good or bad in that. Do not bring it up again. Come back with sweet, shame-free blood."

"Drac?"

"Yes?"

"You said 'good or bad' just then, now give me £5"

[forestshadow-wolf]

i have percieved that you have been reblogging ask ideas so i come with my own... what is your favorite animal/s, and please infodump about it/them if you want :))

Oh you saw that huh?

Well since you're here and you asked... >:)

Now is a good time to tell you about my favorite animal John MacTavish the Dodo bird 🦤 (actually they're kinda sad)

The story goes that there was this ancestor of the same species that is today's pigeons and doves had flown across (i think) the Indian ocean, and they land on this little island to the east of Madagascar. And this is a bitch is new (however one would make a baby island), like REALLY new.

New as in there is some vegetation, and that's it aside from them. So they have no predators here. And so over time their flight muscles shrink, their bone structure changes, they get physically larger because flying isn't necessary for them anymore. They're eating berries and fruits that they can reach, and they quite possibly ate crabs and other crustaceans that came up onto the shores. They swallow rocks an hold them in their gizzard, to help with digestion.

And these guys survive pretty well, they nest on the ground (obviously), and they lay only 1 or 2 eggs a year with no real need to super-reproduce. They experience a drought that lasted for several decades, but they survive, they're fine.

Anyway Humans begin traveling the world via oceans and ships. So we're sailing around, and sailing, and sailing. And we come across this little island, and we see these big, big birds, maybe the size of a 6-7 year old.

And you have to understand that there's not a ton of food choices, you got limited produce, and most of the meat you're getting is from whatever you catch, and it all just gets old pretty fast.

And well it turns out these child-sized birds aren't afraid of us, aren't even trying to run away. These dodos (hence the name; dodo means fool). And so we think, hey why don't we cook one of these bad boys up for a change. And we do. And they taste... not very good.

And then these sailors move on to new islands and whatnot. But not without telling anyone they meet about this small island with these big, dumb birds, and they don't even run away from you.

So more and more humans visit this island, we probably eat a few more because we can never just take someone's word for it, right?

But then people start looking past the birds, and at the island and think, hey! Free real estate! Don't mind if we do.

And we show up in larger groups, we start cutting down trees and vegetation the clear the land, we bring over dogs and chickens and goats and all these other animals, including (inadvertently) rats. And all of the sudden these dodo birds have... A LOT more competition to survive.

And they're not scared of us or these new creatures because they have no reason to be. And the dogs kill some of them, and the rats steal their eggs, and the chickens and goats eat their food, and something else give them diseases (probably).

And pretty soon, dodos because very scarce. And about 100 years after we first discover them dodo are officially recorded as extinct.

And, oh but it wasn't out fault. They were going through a drought, that's what killed them. And I call BULLSHIT! And we know it. And we say they were just too stupid to survive, but research has found that the brain to body ratio would have been proportionate or similar to that of today's pigeons.

.... so erm... my favorite animal is the dodo bird, but we uh...... we classic human'd them so now I cannot be a dodo bird parent :(

[catchyhuh]

Which of them is the biggest lightweight when it comes to the liquor?

but it is not that SIMPLE my little anony-mouse!! it’s not just about tolerance it’s about STUPIDITY and that’s why we’re going DEEP INTO THE ALCOHOLIC TRENCHES. but before diving in you must understand, all of them could down the kind of shit that would put you ‘n me in the hospital for three days

erm tw like actual alcoholism because i was just joking initially but after typing these out like. yeah. not THAT bad but just to be safe. these guys are a little fucked, aren't they?

lupin:

arguably the most lightweight of them all, partially owed to his scrawny ass build. most of that bulk comes from the shoulderpads yknow. not to say he’s a lightweight IN GENERAL just compared to the rest. However,

motherfucker does NOT know when to tap out. he will drink and drink and drink like a FISH and then when he’s barely awake slumped over in the back of the fiat he’s like noooo i can take more jigen has to restrain every bone in his body from turning around, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, and plopping him on the side of the road to leave him at the bar overnight. but jigen is much, much stronger than you and i, so he does not

lucky son of a bitch has the EASIEST hangovers too. he’ll drink himself sick the night of, and the next morning, he’s just got a lil headache. he’ll dawdle around with his blanket wrapped around him, but really, if there’s no one to complain to, he’ll make his own damn food, he’ll rehydrate his own damn self. 

will drink almost anything if it tastes good enough-- or actually more like not too bad to him. it would be ridiculously easy to cask of amontillado this bitch. actually it’s amazing to me that zenigata’s never tried th

jigen:

middle of the line tolerance physically, best tolerance mentally. even when he’s tie off, giggling, slumped over the bar level drunk, he knows to back up a bit and get some water. mostly because he knows he’s gonna be the one leading the party back to the hideout, and he doesn’t REALLY want a repeat of the last time they forgot where all their treasure and shit was stashed

so picky about his drinks. SO so picky. even when he’s starting to get a little tipsy he can take one sip and go “there’s not enough vodka in this btw. too sweet.” bartenders fucking hate this. unfortunately, despite his denials, jigen ALSO loves being a menace, and after seeing the bartender click his teeth in annoyance the first time, jigen will start picking apart shit like he’s some kinda wine critic. but if they just go “oops sorry!” and fix it then he tips. a lot. he’ll beat himself up for putting a fifty on the counter in the morning

less of a woohoo lets celebrate drinker and more the casual type. he’s almost never the one who suggests they go out, y’know? in fact, more often than not, jigen is getting wasted at home. he can make his OWN damn drinks if he’s so particular. and besides, when he gets to the point he can’t pour anymore, he knows to stop

like i said, very giggly, downright pleasant drunk. it takes a lot to get him grouchy when he’s past a certain point, but honestly i wouldn’t suggest trying to find that threshold because his aim is still spot on even when he can’t stand up straight. his bloodstream in his hand is completely detached from the rest of him. it’s terrifying. i promise.

fujiko:

better tolerance than lupin lmao, but knows that ACTING more inebriated than you actually ARE gets you more positive attention (also gets people to lower their guard). mostly because you’re not actually falling over yourself and you can just pretend to be the cutesy fun drunk girl that is. not really real, i think. i don’t think anybody really stays that bubbly and adorable after a few pints yknow

in another life fujiko mine, world renowned, genius thief, would be a wine mom. she wouldn’t even have kids, she’d just have like that obnoxious decor and stuff. “i love cooking with wine. sometimes i even put it in the food” type shit. if it was inoffensive enough to the eye and she personally found it funny, even now, she might buy one of those horrid disney parks drinking pun shirts, just because it’s annoying to everyone else. probably uses it as like pajamas or something

fujiko does not even get DRUNK drunk. she just doesn’t really want to go past a point where she isn’t 10000% in control of all of her actions, and even a slight slip of the tongue when she’s trying to get out a sentence is enough for her to put down her drink and just PRETEND to keep sipping over the course of the night. because of this, she’s only really been hungover once, when she was like barely 20, and she is in NO rush to repeat that

wide array of tastes, but still picky about ratios of like, syrup to alcohol, ice to drink type stuff. if it’s good to her, it’s good! probably the only one who’s tried to develop an actual palet for stuff instead of just chugging whatever’s in front of them. of course, not that she hasn’t done that once or twice on occasion too

goemon:

oh you wanna talk picky about drinks. do i even need to say this? do i even need to tell you HOW drunk goemon has to be before he even lets his tongue touch anything besides sake. i have a feeling i don’t. but i will tell you that, yeah, if he’s drunk enough, you can get him to try, and maybe even admit he likes the taste, of another drink. but even then, he’s not ordering one for himself

goemon does not get hungover. the great goemon ishikawa the thirteenth?? descendant of one of the greatest, strongest warriors in history? no. he comes out of his room, calmly passes his slightly to very miserable compatriots sprawled over the couch and arm chairs, he grabs his glass of water, retreats to his room, and. immediately hits the futon burying his face in the pillows because his head hurts SO DAMN BAD and if he had to stand up straight for one more second he’d faint. of course, it takes a LOT to get him to this point, but he’s not untouchable. not yet, anyway

knows his own limits, and usually does a pretty good job keeping them in check, but he also folds into peer pressure REALLY easily if he’s already tipsy. he can go “no, no, i’m done. no more” but lupin goes “are you suuuure,” out comes the mike’s hard lemonade, and he caves. i take back the statement about only sake touching his tongue before he’s like blackout drunk. he will indulge in mike’s. 

also a bit giggly when he’s under the influence, but he has enough awareness to try NOT to be. so you’ll hear the tiniest little laugh, and then when you turn to look at him, he’s already got his arms tucked under his shirt, eyes closed, stoic expression. and then when you turn away again he realizes how this is like that barnyard video lupin showed him once and he didn’t find it that funny at the time but now, NOW of all times, the memory of it is HILARIOUS, and he’ll burst out laughing. but y’know what, it’s good for him, so if he doesn’t remember in the morning, don’t tell him

zenigata:

have you ever seen that photo set of the tiny woman and this huge guy going drinking together, and when the bartender places the ice cream parfait in front of the woman and the giant keg of beer in front of the man, the two of them just stare at it for a moment before switching glasses and happily enjoying their shit? that’s fujiko and zenigata. to me. had to get that outta my system. anyway guy’s tolerance is shit,

I MEAN IT’S NOT REALLY, it’s not REALLY bad. it’s actually incredible, the shit he can stomach. but, like lupin, he just. won’t. stop. it’s OKAY nobody’s going to make fun of you for only drinking a THIRD of your bodyweight in one night! it’s not that serious! oh, no, wait, he’s drinking because he got pulled off the case again. ah, see, that’s a whole other problem altogether with you

so. so emotional. i mean we know this we’ve seen it. almost every time he-- i bet i could make another collage if i wanted but i won’t, i won’t make the same visual joke twice. just know almost EVERY time he’s gotten drunk he starts tearing up and sobbing about just whatever. like anything. but it also makes him twice as prone to arguing so it’s just not the BEST. somebody really needs to cut this guy off!

horrific hangovers. again, as we know. i said in the sick hcs that it would take a lot to drag him down, and that’s still true, he pushes through them a lot quicker than most, but that first little hour or two when he’s awake is NIGHTMARISH. he’s nauseous, everything is too bright and loud, he just wants to curl up back under the covers and die. but it’s too hot under there. so he just lies sprawled out under the ceiling fan. but that’s too cold IT’S VERY ROUGH FOR HIM!!

[giggly-squiggily]

Okay I am back with paRT TWO

I need more evil Ler shadow in my life (bc also criminally underrated)

so I would be forever in your debt to see little Miya hiding from Shadow after doing something to make him mad. Eventually, he begs Cherry to hide him, who promptly tells Shadow where the kid is hiding. (Idk I feel like this would be sO CUTE)

THANK YOU AGAIN I AM SO IN YOUR DEBT 😭😭😭

Oops did these out of order kjaerkjejkraj BUT THAT KITTY THOUGH AHHHH! *dies from the cute* That gif really does radiate Miya vibes and I am here for it! I've gotcha covered, Ducky! Thank you for letting me write for these dorks!

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@myreygn

“Hide me!” Was the only thing Miya cried as he crashed into Cherry’s space, diving behind the pink haired man and using his Kimono as a shield. Cherry was about to ask what exactly he thought he was doing when a rather displeased looking Shadow stormed in.

“Cherry! Have you seen Miya?” He sounded angry, real angry. Cherry lowered an arm so his sleeve shielded Miya more.

“Why exactly are you looking for him? And more importantly, have you ever heard of manners? What happened to ‘Hello Cherry, how are you today?’ before making demands?” His sharp tone startled the other. Good. Shadow at least had the nerve to look sheepish.

“Sorry. My bust. It’s just- that little runt-” Shadow grit his teeth as he fisted his hands, looking mad once more. Upon closer inspection, Cherry realized it wasn’t genuine rage- more annoyance. “Not only did he make me take him all the way to Joe’s place to eat, but then he called me an old fart! ME! I’m 24, how the hell am I old?” He didn’t wait for Cherry’s answer. “And THEN he had the balls to ask for ice cream on the way here!”

“Did you get it?” Cherry asked, brow raised.

“Well…yeah. I wanted ice cream too.” Shadow admitted. “But he called my taste in flavors '’shitty’! SHITTY! Pistachio ice cream is amazing, I don’t care what anyone says.”

Clearly he did, but Cherry wasn’t gonna say anything. Invested, he waved him on. “Okay, what happened next?”

“I told him one more peep out of him and he was gonna get dragged into the Shadow Realm-”

“The Shadow Realm?” Cherry asked, earning a blush.

“It’s a good name! Anyway-you know what he did?” Shadow looked so serious it was almost laughable. “He blew a raspberry at me and said ‘Suck it, old man!’ before running away!” Shadow shook his head in disgust. “I’ve never been so disrespected!”

Cherry tsked, shaking his head at the poor man’s story. “Shame. Children can be rather rude nowadays.” A pinch to his elbow reminded him where Miya was. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but you just missed him. I think he ran back to Joe’s.” He gestured towards the mentioned man’s half of the apartment, subtly nodding over his shoulder. Shadow’s eyes widened with understanding, a smile starting to pull on his lips. “You should see him there.”

“Thanks, Cherry. I owe you a million.” Shadow turned to go, waving. When he was out of sight, Miya appeared once more, standing a few paces forward as he looked around. “He’s gone?”

“Yes. Though I have to ask, was all of what he said true? Did you really do all that?” Cherry gave him a look, making Miya bow his head.

“Erm…yes. Maybe I took it too far.” He mumbled, pulling on his jacket. Unbeknownst to him, Shadow reappeared behind him, crouching like a comical villain as he crept forward. “Still- Pistachio ice cream is gross though!”

“Fair, but you shouldn’t be so disrespectful. One of these days, it’s gonna bite you back.”

“Yeah…say, when do you think that day’s gonna come?”

“Right now, you little shit!” Shadow roared, grabbing Miya and earning a squeal of shock. “Fear the Shadow Realm as it devours you whole!”

“What- No! Nohohohohohoohoho!” Miya squealed again, this time in laughter as Shadow dug into his sides playfully. He squirmed to and from, unable to get away as Shadow found all the soft spots along his torso. “Shahahhahahadow dohohoohoohn’t!”

“There is no Shadow now! Only the Shadow Realm! You’ve been dropped in, and now must face its wrath!” Said man grinned as he sat back, pulling Miya into his lap as he gave his belly a few tickles. “Your punishment: 7th zone of tickles!”

“Aahhahahahahhahahha, nhoohohohohot tihihiihihickles! Chehehhherry hehehehhelp mehehhehehhehe!” Miya whined to the older man, reaching out helplessly before Shadow attacked his armpit, making him shoot back with a cackle.

“Sorry Miya. I warned you what would happen.” Cherry instead turned back to his desk, kneeling down and gathering his tea. “Carla, take a record, won’t you? Mark this as the day Miya learned his lesson on respect.”

“Noted.” The board spoke, starting to record.

“Thank you Carla.” Cherry looked pleased.

“Doohohohohn’t recohohohohord this! Hehehehehelp mehehehhehe-AHH NOT THE FHEEHHEHEHEHEHT!” Miya shrieked when Shadow grabbed an ankle, yanking off his shoe and drilling into his socked feet. “STAHAHHAHHAP IHIIHIHIHIIHT!”

“Oo, kitty cat’s got some ticklish beans, yeah?” Shadow teased, poking and prodding at his toes, earning a scream and a swat. “You’re gonna sound like you’re getting murdered on there, hehehe.”

“IHIHIHIHIIHIHF I DIHIHIHIHIE YOHOOOHOUR GOHOOOOHING TO JAHAHHAHAHIL!” Miya cackled through his screams, cheeks red and eyes misty.

“Nah, Cherry will back me up! Right Cherry?” Shadow grinned.

“Nope. You’re on your own.” He replied, earning a gutted noise from Shadow.

“SEHEHEHEHEHEE? HEHHEHE’S A TRAHAHAHHAITOR!” Miya squealed out, near silent with mirth. Shadow tsked as he eased up, letting the kid breath. “Yeah, but you’re the one who started it!”

“Eheheh…eheheheh…I’m shahaharry…” Miya grunted out, reaching up and petting Shadow’s arm. “Reahehehally I am…”

The older man softened almost immediately, shaking his head. “Fine, I’ll forgive you. But next time you diss me like that It’s gonna be harsher.” He poked the other’s belly for emphasis, earning a giggle.

“Fihihine…Pistachios’ still gross though.” Miya hopped up and bounced out of reach, grinning at Shadow’s face. “I’m not changing my mind!”

“What? It’s amazing! You’re just uncultured!” Shadow called after him, giving chase. Soon Cherry was left alone once more, sipping his tea with a small smile on his lips.

He rather liked the company he kept these days.

I hope this was good!

[practicecourts]

a @jilymicrofic of sorts, written for the valentine exchange for @mppmaraudergirl, whose Soup James is my absolute Hero!

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Hero Without a Cape - (Feb 7 : Taste)

The soup was warm, hot really. The delicious smell made his mouth water but he should wait a bit before taking a sip if he didn't want to burn himself.

“Oh Potter, you didn’t,” a very muffled-sounding head girl stood in front of him. Her hands reached for his bowl of soup, he automatically handed it to her before his brain started to protest. “I can’t believe you got me soup. James, you really are a hero, thank you so much.”

“I’m not sure… I… Well, a hero?” was all he could stammer. His protesting brain suddenly filled with fuzzy thoughts. He saw steam rise up from the bowl and noted the tiniest drops of sweat on her forehead, maybe it was the soup damp that had landed there. She was shivering a little bit, and her eyes looked redder than usual but she was still as charming as ever to him. Even with a nose that was clearly blocked and the smallest hint of red dry skin underneath it. He thought for a second that his co-head would take a bath in the hot soup from how she held the bowl almost pressed into her body. 

“Not all heroes wear capes, James,” she said and then she stood on her tiptoes and her face was suddenly closer to him, he held his breath as those soft lips he’d stared at for months, well years really, were suddenly almost pressed to his. He could almost feel her soft touch on his own lips, and then she kissed him on his cheek. The touch was scintillating and he just wondered if she wouldn’t do this sometime again but then instead of kissing his cheek, maybe she would kiss his mouth, touch his lips, taste him and… but he was getting ahead of himself, she was just thanking him for bringing her soup now that she was clearly ill. And maybe the fever had addled her brain and that’s why she’d kissed him in the first place. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember. But he knew he would. He touched his cheek, just to make sure it was still there. 

He answered her smile with one of his own, and then he stared at her as she made her way to the comfortable couches in front of the roaring hearth. He was mesmerised, his hand was still touching his cheek, as if he had to make sure it had really happened. Sweet Merlin, he was such a sap. 

A well-aimed clap on his shoulders brought him back from his dreamlike thoughts, filled with Lily calling him her hero, calling him James, - she’d called him James! - and put his two feet firmly back on the ground. 

“Smooth Prongs, real smooth. You’re Evans’s hero now.” Sirius said. His grey eyes looked amused, and his face was devoid of emotion, as usual. “Will you bring me some soup when I’m sick too?”

“Erm. Yeah. I guess,” he said, looking at his best mate with a healthy dose of suspicion. Sirius was studying him now with equal intensity. 

“You didn’t know she was sick, did you?” 

“Erm, maybe…not. Not before I saw her just now, no,” he was a terrible liar and he knew it, there was no point pretending. He shrugged. It didn’t matter, he was still her hero. 

“What would you pay me not to tell her that?”

“Padfoot!”

“Look, mate, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, just bring me some soup as well,” Sirius’s smile had something predatory to it sometimes.

“ You’re not sick.”

“ Nah, but I’m a ‘soup is good every day’ kind of guy. Oh, and see if they have the crunchy breadsticks, will you?”

[syfynjvall]

ok. Okok. i think i’ve got my jumbled up thoughts altogether so! here they are under the cut (and it won’t be spoiler free so heads up!)

N’s route: man… i think when i played i was on a “i havent seen these characters in years” goggles high, ie graduation goggles if you will, but now that im thinking on it, it wasn’t super erm. cohesive. like when you can choose to say ily early on but then if you dont and N says it later, theres no option to reciprocate? odd. also there is no conflict resolution for the argument, it’s just kinda brushed aside.

what i did like was that if you play with an equally romantic partner as n, they do have a bunch of nice little moments. i’ve seen ppl say they come off clingy but like. i didnt see it that way. to me it comes across as more just that they’re SO passionate and so focused about protecting everyone (as shown in the backstory) but i can see why it’s off putting to others

F route: very cute little moments w the detective, absolute dream of a partner if you ask me. them talking about their mom? ruined me a bit why lie. also the “you’re the most delicious thing i’ve tasted” oof. my pulse was weak lads

i didnt like that there wasnt an ily choice for them?? doesnt make sense to me??? out of all the routes i feel like their would have been the most natural place to have an ily, but i digress. anyway. F love and supremacy always

A route: mixed feelings for sure.. i did feel like some of it was a bit ooc or like, i was just getting mixed signals. they’d say one thing and then contradict it a paragraph later and i was like. huh. ok.

overall tho… i will be so real with you guys it was kind of delicious. dare i say it was maybe my favorite. ik some ppl thought it moved too fast and i can see that! but for me it’s really not /that/ fast. think about if you read a book series that’s 2 or 3 books and it’s a slowburn. usually the couple will admit their feelings by the end of the second book or smth. and it’s not like A actually expressed their feelings and then jumped into a relationship yk?? personally i found the “one kiss and i cant have you anymore, this is done, i can’t let myself feel this” absolutely scrumptious. the slowburn is still in action even tho they kissed to me! but ig why some ppl didnt love it. bonus; them crying outside the detectives door didn’t feel ooc to me either. they bottked up feelings for 900 years and then watched the person they love almost die like. three times. and then consequently shoved them away again so there’s no way they’d be able to keep all of THAT inside. walls r bound to break eventually. anyway i did think this route was inconsistent at times but generally. i had a blast w all that pain and suffering

M’s route: i still dont really know how i feel about this one tbh. i did like a lot of it: the bakery scene, the lil not date, the scene in the shower especially. to me that felt very natural, just like. intimate and personal without being too fast or whatever. big fan. might think about that for the rest of my life. also if you’re on verda’s route with m the dinner party scene was equal parts awkward and funny so that was fun. AND as meh and underwhelming as the auction was, them saying they were willing to give more for the detective than they ever thought… mwah. there were moments where M felt ooc but i think i liked half of it. probably 😭

overall like i said before.. plot wise it isnt very cohesive and it’s not very exciting, it felt more romance focused than plot focused which ig makes sense but? idk. i like the thrill

if you’ve stuck thru this whole essay you’re a saint. and drop more of your thoughts into my inbox bc im curious to know what yall are thinking!

[calypso-finale]

Fifty One. Part 4

I sighed out heavily, this London traffic will always be the death of me. Like I just want to drop Rihanna off in peace because the way her bodyguard wanted my son to move I was like nah but now I am stuck in this traffic, putting the window down a little. Looking to the side of me, Aziel loves to sit in the car with his shades on, I think this is my fault. I don’t think he will ever sit in the back now, smiling at him. He is just bopping his head along “makings of a roadman, we going to get you there” I am joking, he wouldn’t ever need to be that but if he hangs in London then that might come second nature to him, it happens in this city naturally “Four bad, four bad b's in the ride. Gotta squeeze them it's a wee bit tight. Most these females the deceiving type, take the p's then go leave them guys” I rapped along to my song “What you doing in the a.m., you only ever holla in the evening time?” Aziel is smiling mad hard “I think we need to do something Rihanna will disapprove of, don’t look” I can’t sit here, I cleared my throat “this is how you don’t drive” reversing back a little and coming out of the queue “Oakley” Rylee said “we can’t sit there, it’s jarring” driving on the bus lane because this bitch is clear, I will have to take the fine. Turning off onto the backroad “we could have just waited” Rihanna said “I know but I didn’t want too, I know these backroads, it’s fine. I lived on this street, well I was about six when we moved away but me and Digga lived here until we moved further out” speeding down because I don’t want to be really on these roads, stopping as a car pulled out “dickhead man, the fuck he doing” I stopped, he is just staring at me “dickhead” he reversed back instead “there is some right dickhead drivers” putting the window down as I started driving “watch your shit next time, dickhead” I don’t even know man “you watch your speed” he said back but I just want to get out of here “you’re going to stress my bodyguard out” I laughed because I know he must want to kill me “see, we missed all that traffic, now we on the main road” putting the window back up “you should be glad I have not whacked you yet, I do not want to be in your hood” I am on the main road now, I just can’t be in that traffic “you like this don’t you? See you going to have good taste like me, actual rap” I said patting Aziel head, he loves UK rap.

Watching Aziel as he ran inside the apartment “I should beat your ass” Rich said “why?” I laughed “you got us all a ticket being in that lane and we thought we lost you” I chuckled “work smart not harder, we got out of there though” walking into the building “Aziel, come here” he is running off somewhere “here” he just stared at me “here, come. Hold my hand” holding my hand out, he ran over to me “he listens to you” Rihanna said “he does, got to put that bass in your voice but I can’t let him rule me” I am not actually strict, but I don’t let him rule me in anything, I don’t let him get away with shit. I have no idea why I came here into the apartment but I just wanted to make sure they got home safely “see, everyone is safe” Rich pointed at me “last time you drive anyone anywhere” I chuckled, I guess I will take that “I will be going anyways, I just wanted to make sure you get back” I said to Rihanna “you know you should talk about it, like what happened there must have upset you” placing my hands on my hips “erm, I think I am used to her shit. I have dealt with it since I was a teenager, I feel like life went downhill when I hit that but it’s fine, just my brother is a dickhead. He riding them like they even provide for him, just yeah. It’s cool” I shrugged it off, looking over at Rylee “I am just going to change his diaper, be back” she is saying it like I am staying “erm, Oakley. I just want to apologise to you, like a real one not just because I have too but I want to say I am sorry, with the way I have been with you and how I had the narrative to have you both split and I pushed that agenda always, I am sorry. It didn’t need me added on top of things, all I saw was the age gap and you was taking my daughter away from me and I hated you for that. I needed to see what Chris saw in you and I have, and you are a good guy under all this. Thinking back on it, when my daughter came to London, you could have done or did anything to her, but instead you took care of her when she had nothing in a weird way, you had free reign over her and I think any man that didn’t care for her would have loved that, and that is the scary part. You want the best for her, and I see it” Rihanna has stunned me, I wasn’t expecting this from her.

I don’t know what to say “wow, erm. Yeah, it’s ok, erm. You do things in life not wanting a thank you, you do what is right. I don’t have sisters, I don’t know really with girls, and I was never taught it from my dad really, I was raised on the streets and people aren’t good. I mean you right, she didn’t know me enough to do what she did but I always thought if that was my daughter and if I ever do have one, I would hope a guy would respect her enough. There isn’t many would do what I did, they all said I should have used it to gain things because I had power but instead at that moment in my life I didn’t have the millions, I just had to get what I could and even then that wasn’t good enough but I tried, I just think you know, it sucked when I tried I was getting pushed back from your side and then my own side. I wasn’t raised by anyone but myself, I just try and keep myself to myself” I shrugged “you have a good heart that is why and like my husband, he got pushed back a lot, but he made it and he is fine, you be true to you. If my son’s end up like you, I would be lucky. I hope and pray they respect girls like you do” putting my head down laughing “appreciate it Rihanna” nodding my head “don’t give up on my daughter either, because breaking down her stupidity, she loves you. And you are her first and I imagine her first in everything, she is learning on the go and she isn’t doing her best, but she is trying. She just needs to learn, I think you are really her first real relationship” chewing on my bottom lip “this is why I did say to her explore, do what you want because, you know maybe we just good as co-parents” Rihanna smiled “she isn’t going to let you go, and I am telling you the truth” rubbing the side of my face laughing “I will keep that in mind Rihanna” I mumbled “call me Robyn, that’s what my family call me. And you are family now” I let out an oh, then I let out another oh when she hugged me, but it wasn’t just any hug, it was a motherly hug. I felt stumped and a little frozen in the moment, not something I felt since I was about ten maybe “Chris and I will always be here for you, if you ever need us” she said in my ear, I swallowed hard and placed my hand behind her back.

Rubbing my hands together, I was going to go before Rylee came but she came out now with Aziel half-naked with his nappy out “I am glad you’re here because, I want to go out for a meal with my mom on a day, I don’t know yet but can you like keep it free for me” nodding my head “erm yeah but like I don’t know a day, text me then. You can drop him to me” I said “where do you live now?” Robyn asked “I have a house now, it’s in the south west, like it’s nice, it’s a home but it’s not like Rihanna nice” she laughed “it’s a house, and it’s out of where you need to be. That’s ok then, you got a house” nodding my head looking at Rylee “you want to go to cinema, I was erm supposed to go with Wadz but he let me down for a girl just now, it’s not a date” I added “you’re saying that so you don’t pay” I laughed “you right but I don’t want to go alone, it’s weird” I shrugged “tonight?” nodding my head “go for it, I am here anyways, use it to your advantage” Robyn said “oh ok then, I will go. Is it boring? It’s Oakley type of thing boring isn’t it?” I shook my head “it’s action, you’re going to love it, or hate but yeah. See you there then, and yeah you paying for my Nando’s since it’s a friend outing” I said while walking off “you’re so annoying” she is acting like I would make her pay, I am just playing with her, but Wadz did let me down, I need someone to go with and Kairo is annoying, also it was going to be my brother but that happened now.

From: Lee

Coming

As soon as I read that the car pulled up “women” Kayson said to me “jarring right, had me waiting out here” I hope Rich isn’t coming with us but he got back in the car again, Rylee is dressed down and I like that. She doesn’t need make up at all “what time you call this? You knew to text me coming when you was right here” she laughed doing a little run “no makeup on and you still late” it was fluid, it was just fluid to give her a hug when she got to me “I’m always late, you know me” she is late for everything really, moving back from the hug “nice earrings though, it’s like you’re owned” she swatted me “shut up” she has Chanel earrings on with the CC which I have the chain that represents my rap name “I thought I would wear sweatpants and this cut off top” nodding my head “yeah your body is banging so why not, it’s late and I’m late. It will be dark” I’m not happy she is late, Kayson walked ahead of us “but I didn’t know if I wanted my hair in a bun or straightened out, it’s hard making decisions” stuffing my hands in my pockets “but you made the best decision, no makeup” Kayson pointed at the desk, he missed the whole queue without a care and just pointed, I don’t think people are happy. The guy just froze and then did a double take “hi” he just said “what’s up bro, can I have three tickets Godfather remake” Rylee gasped “you’re joking” shaking my head “there is better movies out, this is wrong” laughing as I got my card out “can I have the corner seats, like the two together and then a seat missing and then he can sit, just space. Also bro nobody sits there in that spare seat” the guy just smiled “you ain’t asking for much are you” shaking my head “you know how it is” he eyed me up “nah, nah nothing like that, come on now. Just peace there” Rylee is so quiet “well bro we know what the corner seats used for” paying for the tickets “it’s not like that, my friend. She liked to be an independent woman, she on that vibe” dapping him “enjoy yourself bro” I laughed “blessed, thank you” letting Rylee walk ahead of me to leave, people are staring and of course taking pictures.

As I knew the lights are down, this is all her fault, but we got snacks. Kayson didn’t care he put his spotlight on, turning the corner “we have to walk up all the way there” this cinema is packed too, Kayson took the light off luckily “I’ll walk at the side of you both as you go up” gesturing for Rylee to go ahead and I followed behind, I just kept my head down, I do not want to fall because these stairs be tricking you while walking in the dark. I can whispers and people shushing but I think people are noticing “sit down” Kayson said to someone. We got to the top and I let Rylee sit in the corner, I know her. She will asleep, she won’t hang after she’s ate “thank you though” I said “for?” Placing my drink in the holder “for coming, like I didn’t want to come alone, and I know you don’t like this thing” I pointed “oh it’s ok, I’ll sleep but you feeding me, and Nando’s is closed” she is right it is “we will go to the local bossman” Rylee groaned out “not that again” I chuckled “why was that guy laughing about sitting here in the corner?” Looking at her “what you mean?” I said in a whisper, I mean the movie has started so we being loud “like he was dapping you and laughing about sitting here” I laughed a little too loudly “serious?” Oh she is serious, clearing my throat “couples do things here in the corner, like you know maybe handjob or blowjob, make out” Rylee pulled a face “I mean it can happen anywhere, just a thing” I shrugged “you had that before? Here?” I laughed “I mean yeah, it’s a thing. You ain’t done all that” she shook her head “anything I’ve done is with you, like that’s it. And I’ve lived really a sheltered life, I would not do that to anyone and yeah, it’s not my style” nodding my head “and that’s ok, not a bad thing, not judging you” smiling at her “so do I have to give you one? Is that a rule” she is being dead ass “no!” I spat “sorry, apologies” that was loud “no, not at all. It’s not that, it’s minor, just here. Your nachos, relax” she is on some things, she’s lived a very sheltered life, I am shocked “you know like you was my first and then I mean I was only seventeen I didn’t live life like that, I wasn’t raised that way, with regular people” she is defending herself “Rylee, please. It’s fine, relax” she don’t need to do all that.

Rylee went to the bathroom a while ago now, looking over at Kayson, I was about to ask him to check but she is walking up the steps slowly. She took her time, watching her intently as she made her way up. Rylee sat down in a huff “what’s wrong?” I asked “I’m cold” she mumbled, getting up from the seat and taking my hoodie off “here” she looked up at me in shock “you didn’t need too” waving her off as I sat back down, she seems a little off but I will leave her to it, she is more than likely bored with it all. Watching the movie, I mean this shit is like 3 hours long, so I know she is fed up. She is shuffling around at the side of me, she is being annoying, but I won’t look at her. My head turned to her as I felt her head rest against me, I shifted to the side a little and she moved onto my shoulder, I knew it. I knew she would be sleeping but it doesn’t matter, she accompanied me, and I liked she did, Wadz let me down badly but it’s fine I guess this is ok. I feel nervous now because I can’t move, I don’t want to disrupt her at all. Looking to the side of without moving my head so my eyes moved, my arm resting against the armrest, she is using my hoodie as a blanket and I don’t know why but I just did it, I opened my hand out. I am such a dickhead because what the fuck, but she placed her hand in mine, I am not even looking, I am just doing this from the corner of my eye and I felt her love her head, I know she has looked at me but then went back to resting her head on my shoulder, my thumb lightly grazing the back of her hand.

Still eating the popcorn as I waited outside the bathroom, Rylee be in this bathroom the most “you want some?” I asked Kayson before throwing popcorn at him “man, my ass really hurts. Did you actually enjoy that?” nodding my head “I did you know, I don’t enjoy the waiting around though” I huffed “Central Cee can we have a picture, oh my god we love you” turning around “alright” I smiled “oh” I said, this seems messy, looking at the female bathroom and the attention, seeing that the news is going around “I mean I would but then I am going to have to do it for everyone else, I appreciate the love though” I Wish Rylee would hurry up “you going to check what she is doing?” I said to Kayson “fuck no” he denied, I feel so awkward “you are so cute in person” I laughed “thank you, you can have this though” passing her the popcorn and the girls just screamed for nothing “let’s go” Rylee has come out “watch out, move out!” Kayson spat “took your time” I said to her “you was entertained, that is all I heard in the bathroom was your name and that you’re outside and how fine you looked so you had entertainment” nodding my head “and you now have warmth, you got my hoodie” she took that “I know” she has been off since “excuse me, please and thank you” they are so many people here now, Kayson just came out of nowhere just moving everyone out of the way “woah” I said as I got pushed behind Rylee again, this is the second time “relax, damn” they are crazy out here.

Dapping the guys as I walked into the local “bossman” I laughed “what time you call this, closing time?” he said “I know but I am hungry, you got me” leaning against the counter, Rylee side eyed me, she hates these places but like they make the best chicken “what you want?” I asked her “I don’t know” I chuckled “it’s late, no place is really open like that, bossman will sort it out. Look at the menu up there” I pointed “how you been though boss?” I asked him “me good, you bring a lot of business to me since the video” I nodded my head “I got you, you got me when I was young, you know what I want two piece for me and can I get some wings, in a separate box” he smiled at me “on the house, from me friend” waving me off “nah, nah I will pay and can I get a Fanta too, what you want?” she is taking forever “strip for the lady, you know how women be, I will be down there” I pointed “I want a drink” Rylee asked me “then get a drink, tell him” walking off “get what you want” I said to Kayson, sitting down on the seat. They are locking the doors, I am glad. Nobody to harass us “did you get a drink?” she pulled the chair out “I did but like, yeah” I groaned out “why are you being weird? What’s wrong?” she shrugged, looking at Kayson “something is up so what is it?” I know she is off “you just you know, you blatantly said that you got a handjob in the cinema before” I busted out laughing “Rylee, are you serious? I was young, I lost my virginity at fourteen, I didn’t wait it out, things happen. I was like eighteen I think when that happff we need, I don’t know. Is that why you was angry, all this time? Over that” Rylee waved me off “you making me sound stupid, shut up” she is funny “right” shaking my head, women are funny.

How is this girl eating mad too “why don’t you just speak, I won’t laugh” I mean, it’s funny but clearly she doesn’t like me to laugh “because I am boring for you really, I mean like all these things. I wasn’t raised that way, I didn’t even need to leave my house to watch a new movie, I had a cinema in my home, I didn’t do that. I think I sexually lack” looking out of the window “right” I just said “like ok, I had sex with you, and I what, laid there first time” shaking my head “it’s gradual, things happen, you are still young, you learn new things. That is down to your partner to you know, help you. Like I mean you fell pregnant, then it stopped” she is funny “I am actually boring in bed aren’t I?” I laughed “nah, you not boring in bed. I think like, what I see it has, at times I have to push you a little, I feel you need to use your sexual appeal to your advantage and you at times don’t know how to do it. You close off, I see it, I notice it. Really you shouldn’t when really you have a banging body but I think yeah, you have things to learn” I shrugged, she needs to stop worrying about that “did I sexually please you?” she asked “you did, look what it is with you. You can tease someone into bed, then you kind of switch off in a way. I think you did things with me because you’re comfortable” I said to her “you are my comfort” she admitted, biting my bottom lip “stop pushing yourself, you good” Rylee smiled at me lightly, she is just so random at times “you the only one to make me climax” I chuckled “thank you for the compliment, but you will get an understanding guy I hope. Someone that knows you, well how to treat you, you want some more fries?” I offered “no” she just said bluntly.

Parked outside the apartment “I will watch you go in, thank you for coming though” I said to her “yeah” she just breathed out “I don’t get it” she said “get what?” here she goes “you held my hand in the cinema, now you saying if you find another man, I don’t get it” licking my top lip “it was perfect for that moment, Rylee I don’t know what will happen to us, you could find someone or maybe I will, I ain’t looking for nobody but I want us to be friends at least” she shook her head “you just admitted that I am comfortable with you, so why would I want that?” rubbing my forehead “why do you have to push a narrative and let things flow?” she can be so pushy at times “it’s not that, I am just letting you know I am not looking for others” clenching my jaw “yeah noted” I mumbled “what other things have you done?” Now she is being dumb “I’m not going through my sex history with you. Just please, I want us to break today off as it ended good. If you need anything in there” she needs to quit it “ok fine, thank you anyways” nodding my head “thank you too” I just don’t want no hard feelings about things.

[maiverie]

hihi! im kinda young (14 turning 15 in aug!) and i saw that another anon asked for your help on creating a blog .. i kind of need help too 😭😭 do you have any tips on writing? i wanna start a blog but have no experience in writing like AT ALL. except for maybe writing essays for eng or having to create comfort texts for friends because erm therapist friend here☝️

hiiii omg im so sorry for the late reply HAHA but firstly happy early birthday for august!!! plsss I'd be so happy to help! here's my reply to the other post on setting up your blog :>

as for writing tips,,,, um bro honestly idk if I'm the best person to answer ur question but here are some of my personal thoughts!! also comfort friend so real DONT GET BURNT OUT THO 😭

—(long post below)

disclaimer: I am obviously not the best most amazing writer, so these are just my personal thoughts !!! I'm sure there are other users out there with better insights !!!

when I started writing I was like really really really shit like PROPER shit it's actually fucking embarrassing reading back to it 💀 but idk sometimes it's just fun to look back and see all the improvements I've made along the way — for you, it might be that way too. you might feel like it's shit to begin but honestly the more you write, the easier it becomes and naturally you'll improve ! so I think the best mindset to have when you start is to just try, and be okay with the fact that it will obviously not be your best work and you'll just get better and better and better!

here are some writing tips I've previously written - I'll reiterate some of the points there but maybe give it a read and see if it helps?

I think it's easiest to start with one idea and use it as a seed — just let ideas slowly grow from it; keep adding little details and details until it sprouts into a big tree! for example, you can pick a trope that you really like (maybe something you've read before in someone else's fic, or something you've seen in movies/tv shows/books) and then pick a member from whichever group you want to write for (I'm assuming enhypen since you're on my blog) and just write!! for example, you can pick enemies to lovers and then be like hmmm I really want to do jay and enemies to lovers! from there, you can think about the smaller details: why are they enemies (plot)? what do enemies say to each other (dialogue)? where are they when they say these things (setting)?

I think it's easier to write the kind of things that you like to read! so if you really like one shots, write a one shot. if you like smaus, write an smau. if you like headcanons, do the same! stick to whatever you've seen before because then it'll feel a little less daunting! personally, I used to read a lot of like stupid little romcoms growing up and so that's just naturally what I kind of write now ^^ you'll notice that everyone has different taste; so you might see someone's writing and be like "wow it's really good!" and people might disagree with you — in saying that, don't try to please everyone and just write whatever u like ^^ you'll attract people who personally gravitate toward your writing !

tbh, fic writing is nowhere near the same calibre of actual book writing so I wouldn't fret too much about designing a really intricate plot with like fully-fleshed characters because nobody really does that anymore (at least not on blr? i think that's more common on wattpad where people have like 20+ chapters ya feel) — I think just write what makes you happy! If it's about your bias + a trope you like then ezz that's all u need to do hdfshsdh

there are people who like to fully plan out fics and there are people that just wing it — I'm sure you'll find your style, but don't feel worried if you can't seem to brainstorm anything! I think it's easier to just start, and then think about that could happen next. maybe you can start a story with dialogue and then just continue on with the conversation !!

when you're writing scenes, think about setting and characters — for example, think about how they feel, how they react to another character’s dialogue, how they physically react to someone's touch, how cold or hot the weather is, where they're standing/sitting and what their surroundings look like, what time it is, etc. etc. obviously don't include everything (especially the irrelevant stuff) but my point is that there are so many different directions you can go!

here are some other tips I can think of:

read your dialogue out loud and think to yourself, "would someone actually say this?" also, make sure only one person speaks per paragraph so it's less confusing

use a thesaurus sparingly — try not to use convoluted language bc I'd say people who read your work are going to be around the same age as you and idk it's just a lil weird if you're using random words that nobody really uses irl

pay attention to your grammar/syntax — make sure some sentences don't run too long and that when you read it out loud, it makes sense!

also spell-check HSDHDS BUT HONESTLY MY FICS ARE RIDDLED W TYPOS LIKE IT DOESNT RLLY MATTER TBH.. SO LONG AS ITS NOT HORRIBLE?? UHH

treat your characters like real people and think about what they say/do and if it's something in or out of character!! in saying that, give them motivations and fears and all the juicy stuff that real humans have — if you care about writing a story that people will remember, then I think it'd be great if you could write memorable characters by fleshing them out and making them lovable or hate-able(?) or relatable.

make sure scenes flow from one to the other — it's the same as you do with your eng essays! you make sure you're not talking about one thing before quickly jumping to the next. I think you can apply the same logic to writing fiction :))

honestly it's hard to give tips because I'm not sure what type of stories you want to write and what direction you're going for, so I'm really sorry if my tips were a little too generalised!! but if I'm gna be like so so so so fr right now, I honestly think writing for enhablr can be easy/simple — my tl;dr is that you should just pick a member + easy trope + make sure you have a mildly interestingly plot and once you add in decent grammar, you'll probably do really great! I don't mean this in a bad way, I just think ff writing doesn't have to be too difficult because most people just want to read about and imagine their bias in situations they'll never be able to see irl (its kinda the whole point of ff)!! I don't think people think much about fics beyond that !! this is all just for fun!!! so I really hope u have fun writing!!! lmk what u end up working on ^^

I hope this helps; idk if it did 😭 but lmk if u need any more clarification 😭💖

[evilasiangenius]

He let Crowley go and began to unfasten his embroidered and fur-lined leather jacket, setting it deliberately aside.

Crowley turned away, drawing the blanket over her head so that she was completely hidden. But then Aziraphale slipped under the blanket, climbing into bed.

“What…?” Crowley muttered and then Aziraphale laid down, drawing her into his arms.

“Aziraphale, what are you doing?” Crowley hissed.

“You don’t like it?” Aziraphale pressed his cheek against Crowley’s shoulder, feeling the fine wool of her dress against the sensitive skin of his face.

“No, I didn’t say that. But your elbow is digging into my back.”

“Oh, sorry.” Aziraphale moved his arm, and it didn’t seem to have anywhere reasonable to go but around Crowley’s waist. He moved his legs and found them bumping awkwardly into Crowley again.

“Elbows. Knees. Ouch, what are you doing?”

“Trying my best here, my dear. Maybe I should-”

“No, not there, angel, that won’t do. You’ll be sore, your arm doesn’t bend naturally like that...”

“It’s fine, I-”

“Please, just...elbows-”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry-”

“Too many...arms and legs and absolutely no understanding at all of how they work. Especially under duress. Here, Aziraphale, put your arm here.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I don’t know how this works! I’m an angel, we don’t do-”

“Like this.” Straightening out Aziraphale’s left arm, Crowley slid in close, Aziraphale’s arm tucked beneath his neck. He wriggled about a little, getting comfortable, until he felt the contour of Aziraphale’s knees behind his own. “But why are you doing this? I thought you said you had given up on trying any...erm, you know-”

“I am. This isn’t that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Comfort, I suppose? Closeness. Intimacy.” Aziraphale said, closing his arms around Crowley, giving him a fond squeeze. “You don’t have to change for me, my dear. You know that, right?”

“No? Thought you preferred that.” Crowley’s fingers twitched, and he reached up to touch Aziraphale’s hands with a hesitation that seemed strange to Aziraphale.

“I prefer you to be yourself. You needn’t change on my account. I like you just as you are.”

“Oh.” Breathing a sigh, Crowley changed, the corporeal being no longer of any gender, male or female. And then for a moment, for the length of a handful of heartbeats and a breath or two, it seemed that all the tension dropped out of Crowley’s body, but it came right back as if even new, the body’s memory always returned to this wound-up state.

“Sometimes I wish I had as much...certainty as you do,” Crowley muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. You really like me? Even though I’m a demon?”

“Well, you’re an angel first, aren’t you?” And then Aziraphale paused, realizing he had said the wrong thing. “By which I mean yes, it doesn’t matter to me if you’re fallen or not. In fact-”

“But what about all the wickedness? The evil? The sinning?” Crowley hissed.

“Professional drawbacks? Not really your fault the things your bosses want you to do? Though...let’s not talk too much more about that-”

“Maybe I want to do them.”

“As if I want to do all the things that Heaven orders me to do.”

“And what about all the other flaws and failures?” Crowley sighed, hands playing over Aziraphale’s fingers.

“I can’t see you as having so many flaws and failures, my dear.”

“You know geese?”

“Those honky flappy bitey creatures?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t expect that you created them,” Aziraphale said dryly.

“No, obviously not, but I did get humans to bring them into their habitations.”

“So? They taste good roasted. That’s certainly worth some honking and biting. Besides, they don’t have teeth. Well, not real teeth, just those little-”

“And what about all the other-”

“You can rest, my dear. I’ll be here with you, as long as you like. You needn’t try to chase me off with your wild goose stories.” Aziraphale’s voice whispered against Crowley’s ear, and it sent a shiver through all the flesh of Crowley’s body and it seemed that Crowley had never felt as pleasant a sensation as this before.

“Actually, they’re domesticated goose stories. You’ll stay?” Crowley asked, casually.

“Until you wake.”

“As though I could fall asleep like this,” Crowley scoffed. “Aren’t we supposed to be enemies?”

“Probably. Yes, of course we are.” Aziraphale’s breath brushed hot against the back of Crowley’s neck where long crimson hair had fallen aside, leaving the skin bare and unprotected, and Crowley’s body tensed to the point of trembling.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, fine. Of course. Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.” Aziraphale closed his eyes and pressed his face against Crowley’s back, waiting for Crowley to stop trembling. He took a deep breath; Crowley smelled like nothing, and it reminded him of the recent discorporation; Crowley had not been on Earth for very long in this new body. And then it reminded him that Crowley had been the one to warn him that he should endeavor to smell like something, whether pleasant or foul, just so that the humans would recognize him for one of their own. When was that, he wondered? A long time ago, in Egypt perhaps, and the world was still very new then.

And even though this was new to them both, it felt comfortable, familiar, and slowly Crowley relaxed.

Aziraphale waited, wondering if their conversation would continue, but as time passed, he felt Crowley grow slowly heavier in his arms until he realized that Crowley had fallen asleep.

“So that’s what it’s like when you’re asleep,” Aziraphale sighed. He closed his eyes and leaned in, his lips pressed against the little patch of bared skin at the back of Crowley’s neck.

But he didn’t sleep.

As Crowley slept, Aziraphale’s thoughts drifted as though moving with a deep tidal current under the starry night sky. It came back to the same question as it always did; was this the love of all Creation or was this something else?

He took a deep breath and there was a little dizzying shock when he suddenly realized that his breathing had fallen out of synchronization with Crowley’s breaths. When did that happen, he wondered, that they had started breathing in the same rhythm?

It made Aziraphale wonder what it would take to fall asleep, to close his eyes and dream, as the humans called it. They had such vivid stories about the happenings in dreams, and he was curious if Crowley dreamed as well.

Aziraphale smiled sadly to himself. Of course Crowley did not dream; they weren’t even supposed to have imagination, much less dreams. The rules were very clear on this matter; it was like free will, forbidden to servants of Heaven and thus probably also forbidden to servants of Hell.

A lovely thought, but not realistic. Whatever sleep was, whatever dreams were, these would stay a mystery to Aziraphale.

Just as he wondered how long it would take before Crowley woke up, if it would be soon or perhaps closer to morning when they would have less time to talk, to figure out what to do with the newly married humans, to perhaps have a last sip of wine and share in an indulgent smile before leaving, Aziraphale realized that he had come up with no answer for the question of love. There was nothing definitive, nothing clear and concise, nothing that he could settle upon. It could easily go either way, an individual or a universal love.

But one thing that he did know for certain, beyond all doubt, was that with Crowley, it seemed as if the painful memories of the past – the aching loneliness and isolation and the vast emptiness of Heaven – were exactly that; merely memories and nothing more. It might not be more than the love of all Creation including demons and geese and humans at their worst, but when he realized that his feelings for Crowley were bound up in the absence of pain, Aziraphale could feel the tears welling in his eyes, tears that he blinked away.

Funny thing, he thought, that the absence of pain could cause pain.

A sound, faint and distant at first, and Crowley felt it along the distant edges of perception. As consciousness slowly returned to the corporeal form, Crowley wondered; was this a celestial song? But no, it was imperfect and unformed, nothing near the glorious harmonies of the ranked choirs of angels singing words of praise. Just a singular lonely voice, singing sweetly a melody that dipped and rose, that swelled and changed with every few beats. Was it something the humans made? An unrecognized instrument? And then realization set in.

A bird.

Memory should suffice; Crowley had heard this bird before. But then another voice joined in, a familiar song whispered in his ear.

The nightingale is the soft-spoken announcer of Spring's presence

The rest of the song was hummed, muttered and murmured against Crowley’s ear, and immediately Crowley remembered Aziraphale’s arms. And it was strange, because in that earlier moment of waking, it didn’t seem like Crowley was anywhere at all, floating dreamlike in a warmth and comfort that seemed like it could have only been a memory of a time long past when intimacy and closeness was the whole of Creation, before all of existence was torn and shredded into what seemed like an eternal emptiness, painful and lonely.

Before the Fall.

Crowley clung onto the feeling for as long as it was possible, until slowly it seemed that the contours of the individual self, of the body came back cognition, until Crowley knew once again that this body, the one that was inhabited entirely by Crowley, was completely alone.

Well, not quite.

x

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Lacey: Chapter 8

Lacy’s Diaries: August 5th, 2023

Dear Diary, 

It’s been a quiet week so far. Mostly.

I DM’d a guy yesterday named Archie - erm, Archer J. I’ve been into him for a while now, but normally I’d be too shy to even comment on any of his stuff. That is, until last morning. Dina gave me a tactic she always uses to become more confident in front of her crushes. Practice starting a conversation directed to a picture of them and treat them like a regular person. It seems to have worked for me. 

Today, I met up with Dina and Otto at a café. While Otto ordered a cappuccino, Dina and I ordered medium black coffee with sugar. Dina and I have always had similar tastes in drinks, weirdly enough.

“Any news about the editor application?” asked Dina.

“I applied a few days ago,” I answered. “They won’t get back to anyone until next week.”

“Ah,” Dina sipped her coffee. “Anyhow, this tastes way too bitter!”

Otto smirked. 

“Then add some more sugar,” he snarked.

“I can’t do that,” stated Dina. “I’m trying to get into a cheerleading squad, and they only want the healthiest and most athletic bodies.”

“I never thought cheerleading could be so hard,” Otto fingered his light striped pink and blue flag pin.

“Food’s not the hardest part, dude,” said Dina.

Otto went to go to the washroom, so Dina and I had some girl talk.

“How was it talking to Archer?” Dina wondered.

“Amazing,” I responded. “He’s such a sweet guy. Very helpful, too. Not to mention sophisticated and hilarious at the same time.”

“That’s great!” Dina grinned.

Dina continued suffering through her bitter drink. She was very much happy once it was done.

“Wanna know what I like most about him?”

“Go ahead, bestie!” Dina washed her mouth out with water.

“Okay,” I narrated, “so there was this girl - Mira - who was dying of cancer. She always wanted to go to Universal, but she and her family never had enough money to.”

Dina licked her lip.

“Go on,” she stated.

“Archer had a stream that was supposed to raise money for an upgraded Wifi plan.” I told her. “But when he found out about Mira, he used some of that money to help her go to Universal before she died instead.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Dina exclaimed.

“Yeah,” I smiled.

August 7th, 2023

Dear Diary,

Yesterday, Dr. Green told me to think of a recent accomplishment I’ve made for a diary entry. Could be large, small, anything I’ve succeeded at during this month.

Guess what? I got into the Music Refined editor team! Well, sort of. They accepted me into their ranks as a beta reader according to their recent update article. I basically have to read through submissions and decide whether they should even go to the real editors or not. I’m also not allowed to leave private notes on any drafts.

It doesn’t sound like much, but at least I’m getting somewhere. Plus, Archie’s a beta reader as well. 

My first assignment was to go over a piece about Machine Gun Kelly’s fall from grace. It was penned by someone named Oscar Winters.

Here’s a little snippet of the draft.

Machine Gun Kelly is a famous musician known for both reviving pop-punk and his forays into hip-hop. That being said, his reputation has also been tarnished by various factors. While he had the potential to become one of punk’s forefront rockstars, his underhanded tactics have caused more harm than good to his career.

MGK started his music career as a rapper in the late 2000s with a few extended plays. After being signed onto Interscope Records, he released his first album Lace Up in 2002 to negative reviews. His next two albums - General Admission and Bloom - stayed firmly in pop-rap territory.

The musician leaned more into rock in his subsequent albums. Hotel Diablo of 2018 touched on it, whereas the later Tickets To My Downfall completely eschewed hip-hop in favour of pop-punk. 

Perhaps what MGK is most known for, though, is his many, MANY feuds with rappers. These include big names like Eminem as well as smaller ones such as NF. In addition, MGK has allegedly fondled underage boys.

Good God, were there so many factual errors. This Oscar dude got so many dates wrong. I didn’t know 2002 was at the end of the 2000s! The math wasn’t mathing, the NF feud never happened, and MGK was put on blast for being creepy with underage girls. Also, why was “many” randomly capitalized?

I wanted to pass up this article. But I felt somewhat hesitant to do so. Ignoring the glaringly obvious misinformation, the piece wasn’t that bad. The formatting was decent, and there weren’t any spelling mistakes. This was also out-of-character for Oscar. On the other hand, I had no idea how to make this mixed bag appeal to the editors.

So I decided to DM Archie for advice. Sure, he’s only been a beta reader for Music Refined as long as I have. However, he’s far more popular than I. If anyone should know about the secrets to good connections and publicity, it’s him.

Archie told me that the writeup, while flawed, was salvageable. He encouraged me to pass it on to the higher-ranked editors - if I could sneak in a few edits. 

I pointed out to him it was against policy as we were not official editors. He then responded that I could probably get away with it, as all drafts were submitted as PDFs anyways. Not to mention they made exceptions if we were really good. Archie was right. But I also had several other drafts to go through. Since apparently the editors were easier on Archie, he offered to help edit the draft. I accepted it.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1487871692-lacey-chapter-8)

[ghost-of-the-machine]

im so ashamed actually!!!!!!!!!!! so terribly ashamed i feel like the most disgusting person in the world, cuz thats how intense my brain works it thinks like. oh have yr friends ever called furries weird or implied they thought furries were weird? that means they think you are weird which means they basically want nothing to do with you you should kill yourself NOW!!!!!! i said damn bitch!!!!!! god forbid a man be passionate about. things.

it really is just cuz it has nothing to do with them i think thats one of the core reasons, its completely unrelated and i dont think theyd be interested so... do not RISK IT. maybe im selfish, i just.. i cant stand the thought of something i do being unappealing to them, i cant stand the thought of them looking away. any little thing could be a huge thing!!!! could be the worst thing ever actually could be the end of all things could ruin this

do i think being a furry is going to ruin my relationships? realistically, no. why would it? ive ALWAYS been a furry artist, so.. why am i so scared? sorry if you have to see this its very VERY embarrassing but LORD i am not winning the mental illness rn dear god

its like my head constantly makes hurdles for itself, but like. FOR OTHER PEOPLE. like okay.. they dont hate you cuz yr trans, cool cool... they dont hate you cuz yr have bpd, surprisingly!!!! alright. they dont hate you cuz yr fat, right.. but heres this NEW thing, they SURELY will hate you cuz you draw anthros like you are FUCKED say goodbye to everything dipshit. erm........... whats it gonna be next? theyll hate yr taste in fictional men, thatll do it!!! theyll hate yr music taste, theyll hate you for yr mental illness (not that one, the other one. they were fine with that one but THIS one theyll hate you for surely)

it pisses me off too, i KNOW my friends are good people. i dont seriously THINK that of them, i dont think theyre vicious and waiting to toss me away at any turn but... im still scared of it. i said it before, im scared ill be the one to bring that out of them like im somehow SO terrible ill make the best people ive ever met turn on me like that. FOR DRAWING FURRIES? are you actually stupid (yes)

i cant blame myself too much im. doing the best i can im unmedicated untherapied im . IM DOING PRETTY GOOD for someone whos been carrying several weird ailments and still just chugging along, i manage my symptoms when i can i do my best!!! but fighting yr own brain is FUCKING HARD... why is bro sabotaging me? why is it making me impulsive and scared like that? stupid quit it!!!! i got furries to draw i MISS IT SO MUCH I MISS MY GUYS. IM JUST... im a coward!!!!! i cant ever be like. well so what, who cares what they think? ME BITCH I CARE WHAT THEY THINK.. i hear everything they say, i remember all the things they say they like and dont like, and i internalize it subconsciously. they think this is weird and they personally dont like it? alright well you dont have much of an opinion on it OR you do actually like it so thats BAD we need to cut that shit immediately you will feel SHAME for something harmless cuz you think itll make them keep you longer

dont you get tired of it? YEAH i get real fuckin tired of it. so many times ive tried to like.. force myself back into what i love but as embarrassing as it is to admit, in my head their opinion on things is greater than my own. i struggle with putting people on a pedestal and ive actually been doing REALLY WELL with that like no they are my equals they are my best friends i love them i give them kiss but. The Horrors 💀 like i said it all comes out of fear, fear of being rejected and left to DIE ALONE IN THE COLD. do i think thatll ever happen? no!!! but do i fear it? absolutely. its less of like 'i see you as better than me' and more of 'im afraid to disappoint you and make you leave' which i feel like is pretty standard for someone like me

WHATEVERRR i should stop being such a litle bitch about it, ill try. i just hate feeling like everything i do is a test, i hate feeling so unsure about myself, if i move too fast itll shatter. it wont!!!! relax 🙄

[candy-floss-crazy]

New Service / Exotic Burgers

Take a walk on the wild side. Not your usual beef (now we have nothing against beef, and are very partial to a good juicy beef burger, but beef is a bit, erm vanilla). We now have a range of exotic wild meat burgers. During the after Christmas part of the year, when our work load drops rapidly for a couple of months. We use the time for maintaining and refreshing our equipment. Improving what we do, and adding new lines to our services. With the new found spirit of democracy permeating the business. We now hold group sessions to actually discuss things. Truth be told, I still prefer the old system of benevolent dictatorship, but I am co-operating at the minute. In the interests of bringing you the tastiest burgers possible we undertook a series of 'tastings' to check out the potential contenders. Here is a round up of what the butcher told us, and what Emmerson and I thought of the meat. Crocodile Burger The Raw Ingredients Picture By Harrybalais Now I admit, this one is unusual, I mean, usually its the crocodile doing the eating. They Said; This one has the look and texture of chicken with a bit of a shellfish taste to it. Jason Said; This one wasn't bad, it was more chicken like than beef, but had a faint tang of prawns in the aftertaste. Not my favourite, but edible. Emmerson Said; Not a big fan, too fishy tasting for me. Ostrich Burger Birds, Rather Big Ones Just in case you don't know, an Ostrich is a bird. Now I know this conjures up images of a robin or something. That's about as far away as you can get from this bird. Its big. Bloody big in fact, upto 9ft tall in some cases. It is also bloody heavy, weighing as much as 2 adult humans. Oh, and its also bloody fast. Reaching 40m.p.h in bursts and being able to maintain about 35 m.p.h over long distance runs. Makes you wonder how they catch the bloody things. This one is quite healthy. Well, for meat. It is a red meat (ha, bet you were expecting white like a chicken, which is also a bird). It is lower in fat than beef and high in protein. During the mad cow disease days, or Bovine spongiform encephalopathy to give it its true title (for the record I can actually pronounce that). There were a number of initiatives to replace beef with ostrich, but it seemed to fizzle out after a couple of years. They Said: A great healthy alternative, low in fat, high in protein and taste delicious Jason Said; Weird being red meat, cos you really expect a bird to be white. Not bad, similar to beef. Emmerson Said; I liked this one, not too strong a taste, but different. Kangaroo Burger Big Burger, Little Burger Another iconic animal, hailing from the land down under. I know we all tend to think of them as cute and cuddly, but an Aussie friend tells me they are a real pest. Oh, and they are definitely not cuddly, being heavily muscled and potentially quite dangerous. Personally I voted against this one as it would feel too much like eating Skippy. (If you don't know who Skippy is, ask your mum, or possibly grandma). They Said: This one is a very tender, heavily flavoured meat. Jason Said: I liked this a lot, a strong taste that stood out. Emmerson Said:The bold earthy flavour definitely puts a bounce in your taste buds. Wild Boar Burger A Touch Larger Than A Pig This one is another animal, that if you haven't seen one tends to get associated with a pig. These can be huge. Like, massively huge. Weighing upto around 330kg (about 4 average sized humans). These can be aggressive, are heavily muscled and bloody heavy. There are plenty of documented cases of people being killed by boars. They Said : A nutty, sweet flavour, but lower in fat than pork. Jason Said: Another flavoursome meat that stood out. Emmerson Said: Eatable, but not my favourite. Now we also have another entry to the menu that has been democratically voted on. I wish to go on record as being dead against this one. But sadly, not everyone is as sensitive and deeply caring as me. This one is the; Zebra Burger Poor Ziggy I think it smacks of cannibalism. We choose an anthropomorphic zebra for our company logo, then decide to eat him. They Said; "This one has a subtle taste compared to the others" Emmerson Said : the taste is similar to a beef burger but different , slightly disappointed the burger didn't have the stripes in. Jason Said : OH MY GOD! I can't believe we just ate Ziggy!!!! African Buffalo Buffalo Weighing anything upto almost a ton. This is one big chunk of meat. Gawd knows how many burgers is walking around in this image. They Said; A very health and tasty alternative to beef. The burger is high in nutrients such as protein. Emmerson Said; Definite liked this, stronger than beef but very similar. Jason Said; Loved this one, very beef tasting, but a stronger flavour. If fancy a walk on the wild side and would like to book our Exotic Burgers Service, then check out our burger services. Read the full article