#i hate myself its SO in character for me that the weird ghost shit really is what cracked me and drew me into mclennon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soukeyed · 2 years ago

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01 matel gear 02 otasune strangeboss and/or whoever u want 03 Talk about my bff Strangelove please. and/or whoever

METAL GEAR WOOO WOOOOO

Favorite character: STRANGELOVE !! OR THE BOSS. OR OTACON . OR SNAKE. or emma or meryl or eva um theres a few

Least Favorite character: ummm ummmmm ummmmmmmmm. huey obviously lol. also mgs4 naomi specifically mgs4 ... sorry girl im so sorry. also senator armstrong/sundowner/monsoon/whoever tf else is part of the rising guys im just sick of seeing their ugly faces

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): STRANGEBOSS NUMBER ONE FOREVER YEAAH. otasune number 2 obviously :) umm fortune and olga is pretty cute ... bosseva as well .. i cant fucking think of a 5th help. meiryl? also i like bosselot but specifically for how stupid fucked up they are

Character I find most attractive: the boss strangelove eva (specifically big mama) or mgs4 meryl :P

Character I would marry: MERYL !1 GIRLFRIEND FOR ME NOW itd be the boss or strangelove but i would never break them up like that.

Character I would be best friends with: STRANGELOVE !! together we will kill huey mwah. or para medic even if she is insane we will watch movies together. slay

a random thought: i think about that post about otacon being the one to carry out the boss' will without even knowing every single day. Oh my god. wauh. ok hang on one second i found it. AUHHH

An unpopular opinion: rising mid as fuck and the fans make me hate it. also i um. dont really care a lot for bb and the bb focused games sorry. like i get the point and mgsv's visuals+gameplay do slay but bb as a character i didnt really find myself invested in a lot and the weird hero worship some of the fandom has for him does NOT help LOL. like the people around him (ocelot eva miller eli etc) were way more interesting . also EVEN MORE unpopular opinion as a result of this ... mgs3 isnt really all that for me and even though its objectively pretty shit mgs4 is one of my favourites (behind mgs1 and ghost babel)

My Canon OTP: STRANGEBOSS !!!!!!! THANKS FOR THE LESBIANS KOJIMA!!!!

My Non-canon OTP: calling otasune noncanon feels so sickening but i need to face reality. so otasune

Most Badass Character: Hrmm. hrmmmmm. ok its a bit out there but otacon. after the shitty childhood that he came out of pretty um.. (gestures at the whole making a nuclear weapon thing) convinced he/his family was cursed etc etc. forming philanthropy, adopting sunny, basically ending the cycle that his grandfather and father started+perpetuated and fulfilling the boss' will :) just makes me happy. hes great. also he got to marry solid snake at the end of it all so like slay? like hes not badass in the usual sense of the word but his character development and evolution is incredibly badass to me. next step: therapy

Most Epic Villain: i dont think you can call a lot of them epic on account of every mgs villain being goofy as fuck. BUT. liquid ocelot as a villain in what was (supposed to be) the conclusion of the entire series was pretty fucking awesome though

Pairing I am not a fan of: pbbb. umm. i dont really care for snake/fox im way more emotionally invested in fox/gustava personally (still upset she didnt get mentioned in mgs!!!!!!!!! RAHH.) also johnny/meryl was so out of nowhere i still do not understand it like its funny as fuck but JOHNNY??? IT SHOULD BE ME WITH MERYL!!1 ME !!!!!!!

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): arhg. raiden. i mean gestures at rising. this could also count as unpopular opinion but i preferred him as inexperienced and a little stupid i mean even then the direction they were going in in mgs4 was pretty good with him being jaded and feeling alone. and then rising was just. huah ?!?! what ?!?!?!? also. um. ok naomi. mgs1 naomi was so so fucking good ok her speech at the end slays i loved everything about her can you imagine my shock and dismay at her doing all THAT in mgs4 ?!?!? like i could write a 50 page essay on how it fucks up her (and otacons LOL) entire character development ALSO WHY WAS FOX LIKE NEVER MENTIONED DESPITE THEM LITERALLY GOING BACK TO THE PLACE WHERE HE DIED BTW I THOUGHT SHED HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THAT. but honestly just the thing i hate about it all most is at the end of it all shes framed as like.. the hero. using emma+sunnys code to save da world or whatever and i guess maybe that speech was supposed to reflect her mgs1 speech but it just doesnt work when mgs4 didnt give her half of that nuance. her morals are still so ??? to me, her and vamp was such a WEIRD choice, her and otacon was um. ok look i know the writers 100% didnt mean to portray otacons csa as that at all but like it is ... anyway having a csa victim be once again manipulated via sex and not really talk about it was just ?!??!! guys ?!?!? anyway AGAIN if all of that was portrayed as nuanced as it should have been. like naomi doing what she had to to save the world and struggling w her own morals. which it IS but we learn this only in that fuckign speech for like 1 line. like its jut bad. ok to end this half the women in mgs were done horrifically but we all know that. sorry for the wall of text i love you

Favourite Friendship: SNAKE AND MERYL funny as fuck whenever she insults him in mgs4 like deserve. sorry snake. ok no WOAH though i just loved mgs4 meryl entirely even though she definitely couldve been written a bit better, like her talking about how she used to admire snake so much and now hes just BITTER and OLD like ohhh its so slay. like i dont know if you could even call it a friendship but the way they clash entirely and debatably the only place where they can agree on things and work together is in the context of the battlefield ITS SO GOOD

Character I most identify with: otacon D:

Character I wish I could be: similar to utena NONE i would not put myself through that.

AGAIN REST UNDER THE READMORE GO!

otasune time

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them: again i was aware of them before the games because (points at dmitri) so i guess like always

My thoughts: GRAHH. the way theyre like all but canon like kojima just say the word. that cigarette lighting scene in mgs4 WHEW. like the way they invented love its just crazy to me like really. theyre everything to me.

What makes me happy about them: everything :) the way theyve both grown as people over the years... i already talked about otacons character development but SNAKE TOO!! him finally letting people in .. finding a place for himself OUTSIDE of the battlefield .... its all so WAUGHH. like they just work off of eachother so well. love wins. gay marriage. slay. bursts into tears

What makes me sad about them: mgs4 that is all. they had so little time together. i spend half the time watching the game yelling ITS NOT FAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS NOT FAIR

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: umm i dont read a lot of fic to be honest so i guess standard fanfic complaints. also more of you should write about mgs4 there is so much untapped potential.

Things I look for in fanfic: again. WRITE ABOUT MGS4.

My wishlist: MGS4 OTASUNE !!!!!!!!!!!! BECOMES A WEREWOFL.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: sorry they are simply endgame to me.. i cant think of anyone LOL

My happily ever after for them: snake gets cured post-mgs4! how i dont care he just is. gay marriage becomes real. together they raise sunny and grow old together and everything is peace and love on planet earth :) god bless

STRANGEBOSS TIME!

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them: ok not until i actually got around to pw! dmitri you mentioned a few times but i didnt realise until then to be honest

My thoughts: AGAHRHGHGHGHGHGHGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. GOD. GOD. lesbianism. women. they are genuinely just everything to me. how can a relationship be so fucking powerful and tragic when you only ever hear about it from one side. Oh my god. AUH.

What makes me happy about them: canon lesbians in my metal gear games in the fuckass 2010s :) ok no but the way strangelove talks about the boss with such open earnest love. like i just. wauh. listening to her tapes is just. WAUH.

What makes me sad about them: i mean everything. as strangelove said they were just ships passing in the night :( THEY SHOULDVE HAD MORE TIME !!!!!!!!!!!

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: again dont read fanfic a lot but ive checked and theres not a whole lot for them at all anyway LOL

Things I look for in fanfic: any strangeboss fic to begin with would be nice. if you have recs give them to me. i'll cry

My wishlist: umm.. again more content of them in general. konami youre shit the least you could do is make a strangeboss spinoff.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: umm idk considering they both die LOL. bosseva is a fun ship but honestly i dont think strangelove ever really got over it so i cant see her with anyone else in a serious relationship

My happily ever after for them: isnt it crazy how they both managed to fake their deaths and now live happily in some random country away from the horrors of war? like woah!

STRANGELOVE TIME!

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: man what dont i feel about her. shes amazing. shes bitter shes heartbroken shes dramatic as fuck and shes a badass. like its tragic but tell me creating a whole ass ai based off your dead girlfriend in the fucking 70s isnt slay as fuck? women in stem strong!

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: THE BOSSSSS. as i said b4 i dont really see her with anyone else tbh

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: ok yeah there .. isnt a lot. i wish her terrible and awkward relationship with bb had been explored more though like the way she just HATES him at the start is amazing.

My unpopular opinion about this character: uhh.. yeah idk shes not really talked about enough for me to know if any of my opinions ARE unpopular lol. a shocking amount of people see strangeboss as unrequited so i guess my unpopular opinion is that they were definitely both in love LOL

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: just give her more relationships tbh... i already talked about bb but like do you think she knew ocelot was the boss' son ... what did she think of him shed probably dislike him for doing the complete opposite of the boss' will (though in the end he does help take down the patriots so liiike?) ... i would pay millions of dollars for them to interact it would be atrocious. in general i wish shed been given just a little more depth outside of the boss (like give me more about how she grew up!!! what kind of mother was she to otacon!!! and ps i wish hed spoken about her even though ik she wasnt even a thing before the solid snake era wrapped up) though ig that was the point considering she was so consumed with grief... but yk. shrugs.

Favorite friendship for this character: again idk. GIVE HER MORE FRIENDS.

My crossover ship: again i dont do crossovers. SHRUGS!!

#ask games #whew. sorry for the essays.

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gwendolynalbrecht · 3 months ago

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Just a stupid rant about a stupid conflict that I cant believe is even a thing

I just need to vent my frustration somewhere so I dont boil over, I will probably delete this later. But right now Im feeling like Im going insane. So Hoyoverse... Hoyoverse games like Honkai Star Rail... I like these games. ZZZ is my favorite so far. High energy, fun and charming characters. I happily ingore the fanservice because its that much fun. But HSR has the best gameplay. Just... I like these games. Super unfortunately I have a very stupid way of engaging with media I adore/am passionate about: I love to rip it apart. I vent and seethe and nitpick and nag and disect it without any mercy. I have strong opinions and I like to vent them out and unfortunately Im not a ladylike princess Im a loud mouthed Enby. So Im rather harsh sometimes. But if I dont like or feel passion about something I wont be nearly as expressive. Shit I genuinly hate? Cant give you more than two sentences about it. And everyone who knows this SHOULD know that. Lately Hoyoverse made a bunch of decisions and writing choices I dont like. So duh I will complain about it. My (maybe former) best friend is also huge into Hoyoverse games but apperently he is more of the bootlicker variety because good lord is he sensitive to any negativity towards these chinese gambling games. To the point I have to fake positivity and lie through my teeth whenever we talk about it or having to slap down harsh boundaries to keep it all comfey for him. He feels comfortable trash talking my favorites but his are saints, untouchable holy people Istg. Contex - its HSR related: So with the knowledge that I am absolutely tamer than I would be with someone less... fragile... we talked about the next patch and because I cant be arsed: I fucking HATE Sunday. So naturally no news about him are worth shit to me personally. My opinion. I dont shame his fans or anything. And Tingyun? Yeah I dont have an opinion about her beyond: Great more recycled stuff. So no fucks given. I realized that I was being pretty passive and unresponsive in our conversation because of this and I just wanted to take the time to explain why. I just explained my more negative attitude atm (narrative issues also played into it etc. just a bit of patch dissatisfaction no big deal I swear to god) And he sends me this paragraph about how I should stop playing? Why because my expectations are in the basement? Duh its characters I dont like? He wouldnt be hyped about an Adventurine rerun either. How its "for my own good" and "its helping no one if I keep playing" like bro who the fuck shat in your brain? I was really unresponsive after that crap, all my effort of asskissing this game and his precious bird freak and its still not nice enough huh? Im sick of playing pretent for his ass and get told to fuck off basically at just the mildest of pushback. He got mad when I only gave short replies after and fucked off and now his bitch ass is ignoring me over what? Stupid fucking chinese slotmachines!? I tried to reconsile and explained that no I wont stop playing and that Im just weird about how I enjoy things but I have been ghosted for several days now. Im sure he will claim he was busy but I cant bring myself to buy that shit.

#vent post

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demi-shoggoth · 8 months ago

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2024 Reading Log, pt 4

16. A Haunted History of Invisible Women by Leanna Renee Hieber and Andrea Janes. I liked about 90% of this book a lot. It’s written by two women who run ghost tours, and tells the stories of various ghosts and haunted places from a perspective of women’s history and the patriarchal expectations of American society. All that is pretty darn good. The stories are sorted by the archetypes and stereotypes the ghosts fit into, virginal maidens, witches, spinsters, devoted wives and mothers, madwomen, etc. Where the book loses me is the end, whereupon the mask of “we’re open minded and only one of us is a true believer” comes off. The chapters about frauds and hoaxes, despite talking about the need to sort real folklore from fakelore, are deeply critical of anyone who seeks to debunk hauntings and even goes out of its way to shit-talk Harry Houdini! Which leaves this collection of pretty good ghostly writing with a sour taste in my mouth. Your mileage may vary.

17. The Secret Life of Corals by David E Vaughan, PhD. This is a book I wanted to like, but ultimately left me cold. Vaughan is a specialist on coral farming, and this book is partially his summary of how corals live and partially a pitch for his nonprofit coral restoration project. The science of how his restoration works is fascinating, and involves exploiting coral’s regenerative properties to accelerate their growth, seeding the same site with clonal polyps that will then fuse together and become reproductively viable much faster than if they started from scratch. Unfortunately, the “science of coral” stuff didn’t have enough science, and had too many folksy metaphors and tangents, to really hold my interest. As an hour long presentation given live, I think this book would work. As a book, I find myself decidedly not the target audience.

18. on Rare Birds by Anita Albus. Do you want to read a book about ornithology written by someone who hates science? Boy, do I have the book for you! This book covers birds that are not necessarily rare; some are extinct, some are endangered, some are just German. I thought it was peculiar, how the most recent author cited in the text was from the 1930s, and how the book had a laser like focus on wildlife conservation failures, instead of successes. But in the lengthy afterword, in which the author (despite having spent 200+ pages anthropomorphizing birds) states that any attempt to read evolutionary antecedents from human behavior is eugenics and that evolutionary theory itself is literally the work of the Devil, is when it clicked for me. Oh, and the book has some nice art, I guess. Avoid at all costs.

19. Platypus Matters by Jack Ashby. Of the books in this batch, this is the only one I can wholeheartedly recommend. This book is a survey of Australia’s mammals and the history of their study, with a decided focus on monotremes. The book is also a polemical about the lasting damage done by imperialism in science, arguing that the perception of Australian wildlife as “weird” and “primitive” dates back to the continent’s colonial past. And that this perception has led to policies that have further endangered Australian wildlife, much more so than on other continents. From both a biological and political perspective, this book is an excellent read. It’s also funny and charming, and has some great illustrations.

20. Monsters Who’s Who by Dulan Barber. How I got a copy of this book at all is a story in and of itself—it appears in the 70s Z movie The Alien Factor, read by a character shortly before his death at the claws of a zagatile (which is a yeti on stilts with compound eyes). So out of curiosity, I bought a used copy, and it is a weird one. Definitely a glimpse of what fan culture was like before the internet, let along VHS. The book’s monsters are mostly from movies, although there are some Greek mythical monsters, some British folklore, some Doctor Who villains, some Marvel characters (as many heroes as villains—is Spider-Man a monster?) and some dinosaurs. The entries are written as if through a vague memory of seeing a movie a while ago; I kind of doubt any research was done for this book that wasn’t seeing what pictures they could get the rights to. As a cultural artifact, it’s a hoot. As an actual reference to monsters, there are so many better available.

#reading log #monster book #ghosts #american history #birds #marsupials #monotremes #corals #restoration ecology

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delicatebluebirdruins · 2 years ago

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If you don't mind me asking, what was your issue with RE6 Ada?

I have not played 6 for months (started replaying with sister to get the embelms which meant we could read the files and got to chapter 4 of Ada's campaign and we just stopped) so this might change later on and this is all off the top of my head

all of my problems with Ada is my added problems with all the characters even the ones I like enjoyed Sherry/ Jake and Leon/ not claire i mean Harper (earlier post on why i called her not claire)

and basically as a story about Ada it would have been so much better if there was more talking (mysterious criptic bullshit only works when its a rookie and the only rookies we get in 6 are Jake and Sherry) more stealth (and my biggest probem with RE2R after speedrunning it is we so much is the same between the four campaigns and look at RE6? a lot was ground we already covered)

like chapter 1 for Ada is the best we're in a cramped enclosed space and we have to sneak around and solve a puzzle (unless you're in co op mode then annoying as co op person can do very little they should have made the Agent the other character full ghost instead of the weird middle ground which is somethings but not others you can open doors but not all of them) then you have to fight your way out with ammo wasting bugs that you spray and pray for unless you get the emblem needed to unlock the file and read it (and its not the full file almost all of the files in 6 get bits cut off and only seen on RE.Net or the wiki)

and then it really went down hill from there and I don't remember those parts well but where was Ada keeping her crossbow? couldn't she just quickly say to Leon that she had something that belongs to the family who owns this underground place and she doesn't need it anymore but it looks like he will and gives him the ring instead of the annoying here.. don't get any ideas

don't we see Ada and Ada clone within minutes of each other and there is no acknowledgement of any of the characters that her clothes keep changing?

I did enjoy seeing Ada help those people on the rooftop but its bookended by annoying action shit with annoying villain incel twat isn't it?

basically gameplay (this is a problem across all the campaigns), pacing, and a character that capcom had no idea what to do with and dialogue that was not well written (my most hated moment was the monologue over Carla's body) motivations that were there but I don't know what they are you would think it would be a lot clearer as we're with her but nope (also they tried to keep her mysterious and all but it doesn't work when you spend a long time with them

simply Ada is a character I enjoy but RE6 is just bad across the board and I was honestly the most excited for Ada's campaign which is why when she started to get on my nerves and seeing how stagnant her character is made it worse.

before RE4R if they announced an Ada game I wouldn't give a flying monkeys butt about it but with the changes made with Ada in RE4R? I would actually be interested in playing it myself (unless of course they change the va from Lily Gao who is honestly my favourite then I will probably not play it myself- hopefully seperate ways will be remade as well as 4 so more time with Ada again)

ETA: Ada's character in 4 and 6 are worlds apart and we're missing a chunk of time in between which made it worse... and as most of the backstory is in files that are only unlocked by shooting the emblems (something newbies like myself starting out wouldn't know I think as they don't get mentioned when you actually shoot the bloody things unless you looked it up before hand) mysterious spy lady doesn't work when you're playing as her and everyone already knows what's happening anyway as her campaign is the last we unlock after playing through three others

#asked and answered #will we ever get to re6 again who knows maybe we will start watching buffy again as we started a rewatch in 2020 and we're still in season #i know for a fact i don't make a lick of sense #and rambled #I am sorry #resident evil

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house-of-no-regrets · 4 years ago

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No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

-------------

I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge.

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

#house of no regrets #no regrets #tabby #jenna #writing #ethical necromancy #necromancer #paranormal #fantasy #magic #writeblr #story #useless lesbian tabby has A Night

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harbingers-appointed · 3 years ago

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Flauros smut drabble

[Likely poorly written with typos... but after all the shit today I felt like writing something gross... lmao. Now I'm going to go write secret fluff for myself.

Just uhhhh something on the lighter but still vaguely dark side. It's worded vaguely as well for the Y/n character.

Is this Canon/a potential thing that could happen? Maybe... haha. I didn't plan any of this so again- its rough. I might delete this later lol]

You were there again, in that Godforsaken closet. The purple flames from that bastards occult candles illuminating the small space. It sent a shiver down your spine just being here, but by now you knew better than to resist the temptation of running. You always ended up back here after all.

"Hey cutie~"

You jumped as that all too familiar voice cut through the air. He was there, right before you straightening his tie a bit before looking up to you. Those eyes of his always had such a dangerous glint to them. He smiled a bit, a rather playful expression to his face.

"What's wrong? Ya look like you've seen a ghost,"

"Y-yes! Because you- you-!"

"I- I? What?"

He raised an eyebrow at this, his tail swaying from side to side. You knew he was playing with you at this point. How the hell could you respond?! You hated this piece of shit! Yet… the way he looked at you, the aura he gave off…

"Gonna say something sweetheart? Or do I need to rip it out of ya? Heh"

"N-no please I… why do you keep...k-killing me"

That gave him pause. He blinked, a look of confusion crossing his face for a moment… you almost believed maybe you were the crazy one here, but that fell away as soon as the bastard began to laugh. It chilled you to the core, fragmented memories of what had happened flashing through your mind.

He wheezed a bit, catching himself as he roared out that sickening laugh of his.

It took him a few moments before he stood up straight and wiped at his eyes a bit.

"Oh fuck! You really are a weird one ya know?"

"I…"

"Ya keep coming back here- to ME- even after all the shit I've pulled~"

… his voice was sickeningly sweet as he closed the distance between the two of you. You sucked in a breath as his face got closer, the intensity of his presence making you tremble.

"I must be real damn special, huh~?"

"..."

You were silent, but the heat that rolled from your body was a dead giveaway. You were the one who put yourself in this stupid closet every time.

You wanted this- you wanted him.

Your silence only seemed to encourage him, a low growl of approval escaping his mouth as he pressed you against the shelves. You let out a soft sound as his sharp teeth grazed over your neck. You knew just how dangerous those fangs could be- but it only excited you- made you want him more.

He nipped at your soft flesh for a bit, leaving marks over you. The bastard hummed as he tasted your sweet blood as if relishing in the flavour.

"Say you want this,"

"...I-.."

He sucked at your neck as you squeezed your eyes shut. One of his hands instinctively had gone to tilt your head up so he had access to your neck. Something about his touch was electrifying, that danger he emanated only left you craving more and more.

"Come on, I'm a gentleman I won't continue unless ya consent cutie. Tell me you want me,"

"I...I want y-you Flauros,"

He chuckled against your neck.

"Now that's what I wanted to hear~"

You knew you were a fool to fall for the housekeeper. You couldn't help it, he made you feel things that the king never could. Flauros was poison, but you craved his flavour.

He was quick to start ripping at your clothes, his sharp claws making short work of them. This was the part you wanted, that feeling of him dominating you entirely.

"You're so fucking stupid, hehe,"

He whispered as he picked you up, holding you there as if you weighed nothing. Your breathing was heady as you felt him take no time in pushing into you. Your cries were drowned out quickly by his rough fucking. It was animalistic, like you belonged to him and he knew you did.

"F-fucking cry for me m-more won't ya-?"

That sudden sharp sting of that knife bit at your throat. Your mind should have been screaming terror, but instead it was filled to the brink with arousal. You wanted to be cut by him more. You choked out your sound of masochistic delight as pressed it against you lightly. It hurt so good.

You stared at your twisted lover, his lips upturned I'm a wide grin.

"Y-yer a fuckin f-freak!"

He snarled in delight, his hips slamming against you. You knew you were past the point of no return, you were in Hell after all. You had wondered why you ended up here- but now you knew. You were also a sick bastard.

You sputtered a bit as he slammed into you one last time before that heat rushed into you.

"FUCK! NNNGHH…"

He groaned, rocking his prick in and out a little as his climax subsided. You panted as he finished, the sharp knife still at your throat.

But you knew what was to come next.

He pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty. The bastard pulled his pants back on after dropping you back onto the ground. You stood there shakily, his seed dripping from your abused hole.

"You know what happens next Cutie"

"I...i-I know…"

"Ya gonna come back for another visit next time?"

"I…"

"Heh, don't answer that. I like a bit of surprise (:... you wanna try running this time, or do you want to do it right here?"

…

You knew this piece of shit liked it when you tried to run.

Part of you liked it too.

God, what happened to you?

"Ooh, I see… I wonder if you'll make it to the King this time? Hehe, I'll give you 30 seconds let's see how far ya make it ~ one, two, three-"

You ran, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You wanted him to want you, God you wanted to know more about this sick fucker! M-maybe he wouldn't kill you this time! He… clearly seemed interested, right? H-heh, damnit you really were messed up. You ran down the hall as fast as your legs could carry you, but it was never fast enough. You never knew how he caught up to you so fast.

"Whoopsies, guess you lost again (:"

Your vision went red, the pain overwhelming and intense. Your body falling to the ground too fast. You screamed in pain.

"I'll see you again real soon (:"

Your world went dark.

Flauros stood there licking at his lips as he looked over your corpse. This was all too hilarious to him, what kind of fucked up human would subject themselves to this?

Heh…

Oh well.

They could keep playing this game if they wanted.

It's not like they knew what dying by his knife would do to them in the long run.

#DemonKingYbAu #dhfjjdd #this isnt good #sorry again lol.#its almost 3 am

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areyougonnabe · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Questions!

tagged by @palamedessextus !!! thank u i love to procrastinate on writing by writing about writing

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

110 on my main account (+ 4 on my sneaky sock for Crimes™ lol)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

614,551 on my main account which is. hm. a lot

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

obvi the main ones are the terror (50 fics) and good omens (35 fics). beyond that: TMA, the OA, doctor who, LOST, red dwarf, what we do in the shadows, the aubreyad, legends of tomorrow, banished, MCU, bbc ghosts, jeeves & wooster, russian doll, true detective, twin peaks, fleabag, & it's always sunny.

so technically 19, but wow a LOT of those are because i am a fiend for crossovers. (true detective x red dwarf... twin peaks x hannibal... the OA x lost.... russian doll x doctor who...) and many of the others were one-offs for yuletide. i'm pretty monofannish when it comes to writing!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

lol they're all going to be for good omens... let's see

1. "it's a new craze" - the podcast fic. imho this fic is the definition of "The Claw," a.k.a. the phenomenon that sees some fics plucked out from the fray to become super popular. i'm not denying that it's good! i still think it's pretty clever! but its popularity was probably as much a function of timing as of quality

2. "what a way to make a living" - the uber driver fic. honestly still pretty proud of this one, it flows well and is structurally interesting and genuinely very funny and the perfect length. i had a blast in good omens fandom writing comedic fic, this one

3. "dearly departed" - another one i'm still very happy with. my first ever finished multi-chapter fic & the story that proved to me i could sustain a plot and original characters and also that people would actually enjoy it. so a pretty big deal!

4. "blame it on my juice, baby!" - the fake love potion one. i wrote this fic while delirious with horrible fever cooped up in a tiny council flat airbnb bedroom in london. i think it's still pretty strong although since writing it i've developed a severe aversion to the "meddling friend engineers a get-together" trope in fic & so cringe a bit when i read it back, lmao

5. "greatest hits" - the one with the original songs! the songs are still good.... the fic is ehhhhhhh i guess.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i don't respond to comments on most of my gomens fic anymore because 🤷‍♀️ but i do try to reply to everything i get on my terror fic/smaller fandom stories! my replies are usually very lame but i do like to take the time to thank people for reading.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i usually don't write angsty endings because i'm a weenie BUT the one exception is probably my terror/TMA crossover which cannot be said to end well by any means lol

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

dearly departed has a very lovely ending... i will also plug my OA fic heat rises which is GREAT and has a GREAT ending and nobody read it because nobody watched the OA. i'm fine it's fine

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

as mentioned above, yes, compulsively... award for craziest simply has to go to It's Always Sunny In Another Dimension which is, yes, an IASIP x OA crossover. i apologize for nothing

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not that i can recall, [bubbe voice] tenks gad!!!

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

i do i do.... when i first picked up fic writing again after college i thought smut would forever totally beyond me but after some very kind encouragement from friends i tried my hand at it & was off to the races.

i would not say i am an expert at it by any means but i have a lot of fun with it, & people seem to generally appreciate it, so i will keep going!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

also no, phew

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a bunch of my gomens fics have been translated into chinese and russian, which is so so super cool!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yuh, i had a few legendary cowrites in GO! the slow show metafic with cherry @fremulon and the shitscript crossover extravaganza with hallie @kalelraejepsen !!! both tremendously fun experiences

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

that is a very tough one. if you go by my ao3 bookmarks it's aziraphale/crowley, which might be true still tbh... but i dunno. maybe ten/rose because that shit never leaves you.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

in terms of fic i already started posting, there's my one terror WIP with amnesiac tozer that i swear i WILL finish one day... and same goes for my good omens music & lyrics AU, which i fully expect to pick back up and finish off when i inevitably return to the fandom for series 2.

as far as stuff that never made it out of drafts, i started a hodgson-centric fic a few weeks ago that i got like 4k into before realizing i need to seriously refine my approach. so hopefully after exe fest i will get around to that!

16) What are your writing strengths?

well i am funny. so i've got that going for me. other than that ummmm i don't know. i don't think of myself as a particularly good or strong writer bc i really am just here for a laff. i think i can turn a phrase well and get the most out of imagery; i'm good at coming up with compelling story concepts and weird gimmicks, i guess?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

i fundamentally don't know or understand how People Actually Act And Feel so i have a hard time getting realistic or interesting reactions and conflicts out of characters. my plots (when my stories have them at all) are very powered by external events, i wouldn't call myself a character-driven writer by any means. for the same reasons i struggle with voice and dialogue beyond superficial signposting via vocabulary/syntax. also, sustaining a long story/finding enough Stuff To Happen to fill it up/having the patience to keep writing... is something i need to work on for sure.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i'm a lame american who only speaks english so honestly i don't really have thoughts!

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

i distinctly remember hand-writing in my notebook two or three pages worth of a story about what happened to the main precog in "minority report" after watching the movie when i was like seven. the first fandom i actually wrote fic for and posted it online was probably doctor who circa 2010 ish? but my warrior cats RP career predates that by a few years and i did a LOT of writing there. oh warriorsforest39 dot proboards dot com you are missed....

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

SEX GHOST AU! SEX GHOST AU!

tagging folks :))) @laissezferre @titleleaf @theburialofstrawberries @girdedheraround @flanneryoconnorfanfiction @wreathedwith if u want!!

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nanoland · 3 years ago

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am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave.

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered.

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did.

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark.

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty.

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out.

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head.

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried.

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering.

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued)

#hellblazer #john constantine #chas chandler #first of the fallen #fanfic #my fic

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adultswim2021 · 3 years ago

Text

Ephemera Week (2002)

I really wonder how effectively I’ll be able to do this in 2003. In 2003, Adult Swim started doing the black and white text bumps, where they give max sass and NO EFFS (fucks), so every week had unique content. I definitely don’t have the resources to catalogue every bumper or even come up with a decent “best of”. Ephemera Corner 2003 may look very different. To quote my good friend Zorak, “Brak, do you ever think about the future?”. To this I say, yes. Yes, Zorak, I do.

BROADCAST ANOMALIES AND SPECIAL NIGHTS!

Adult Swim Action (and other stuff) | February 23, 2002

February 23rd was the first installment of Adult Swim Action. Up to this point, Adult Swim aired a block of mostly comedy capped off with Cowyboy Bebop. This was the first formal separation of Action and Comedy. I remember the bitter rivalry between the two fandoms on various message boards I posted on. It really did seem like a venn diagram with almost no overlap; action fans hated the comedy shows (maybe they liked one or two but hated the rest) and the same went for the comedy fans, except most of the comedy fans I knew were devout anime haters.

At the height of my anime animosity an internet ex-friend of mine started a message board called ANIME SUCKS. It was an experience I’ll always remember fondly. At it’s peak it had over 1000 members. All but about a dozen of those members were actually ANGRY anime fans who just stumbled on the board and were FURIOUS at us for being anti-anime, and we’d just act like obtuse dickheads about it. Like, we’d act stupider than they were and just wind them up.

We developed a few tricks to really set somebody off. For example: they’d write an impassioned defense of anime as an art form, and say something like “it’s not all like Pokemon or Dragonball Z”, to which we’d reply “actually those are the only two animes I like”. This really got them. There was a special thrill to just replying “miyazaki is an idiot” to a guy’s 6-paragraph essay about why anime was “good, actually”, prompting an even longer response. It was really fun! We didn’t have to harass people online, they’d just come to us to get abused. I’ve never seen bait get taken so effortlessly. One day that guy just closed the message board, locked everyone out, and disappeared forever.

That was some aside, huh? Anyway, the arrival of Adult Swim Action meant that Adult Swim stopped airing the Thursday night repeats of Adult Swim Comedy, which was a shame. It Also meant Adult Swim’s Sunday night had an extra hour to fill, which they did with Rocky & Bullwinkle and the Popeye Show. People complained. I didn’t. Vintage animation is just a different take on the “adult” label. Besides, I was used to tuning out by 12AM anyway, so even if I didn’t like those shows (I did!) I wasn’t missing anything, really. But yes, if it were a full hour of Space Ghost repeats I guess that would’ve been better.

The Lewis Lectures | May 19, 2002 - 12:45 AM

A repeat of Lewis Lectures? IT HAPPENED! But what was so different about this broadcast of Lewis Lectures? Well, they accidentally scrambled the SAP audio with the default English audio, causing the Spanish soundtrack to play in tandem with the English one. It was bloody well fucked mate. This is simply no longer England.

I remember becoming an Adult Swim completist and taping this, considering it some kind of void in my collection. Part of me wishes I saved the recording, so I could combine it with the inferior YouTube rip currently up and have a closer-to-pristine copy than the one that’s available. But also, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS LEWIS LECTURES WE ARE TALKING ABOUT. How much pain can I inflict on myself?

Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law Mini-Marathon | September 15, 2002 - 11:00 PM

On this night they aired a little Harvey Birdman marathon of the 4 episodes. This was kinda baffling, as Birdman had 6 episodes to its name and they’d been repeated into the ground by this point. I guess it goes to show that Adult Swim kinda considered Birdman to be their prestige program. I’m hard-pressed to call any one Adult Swim show “smart” in a way that’s apparent on a shallow level. Birdman is set in a courtroom, animated the most competently out of all their other shows, and involved cultural references in a showy way. Like, Space Ghost having Dave Willis absurdly shout “UP THE CHAIN” in the background of a Space Ghost episode is almost just a weird easter egg. But Birdman? Birdman was name-dropping Hanna Barbera characters the same way Frasier would talk about whatever gay shit Frasier talked about.

They aired The Dabba Don, Shaggy Busted, Shoyu Weenie, Very Personal Injury in that order. I would’ve swapped Shaggy and Shoyu and for Bannon Custody Battle and Death by Chocolate, but that’s just me, I guess.

vimeo

Adult Swim New Years Bash hosted by Carl and Brak | December 31, 2002 - 11:00 PM

Adult Swim officially ended 2002 with this: a night hosted by Carl and Brak in Times Square, watching the ball drop (which was FREAKING MEATWAD!!!!). I remember this night fondly. Unfortunately I can’t find the whole thing, but here’s a single segment I found on vimeo to give you some idea. I think I had it up at one point and Turner very annoyingly had it taken down.

I used to have this massive physical media collection; stuff on VHS and DVD and DVD-R that was meticulously catalogued. I ditched a lot of it in favor of digitizing stuff like this, eternally keeping it on hard drives that I meant to back up but never did. It seems more convenient, but it isn’t. If this were 2003 and I needed to show you this, I would be able to retrieve it from one of my many shelves. I might still have this, but would have no idea where to look for it and it would probably involve me getting in my car and going out to my storage unit and pulling every single box out. I turned it into ones an zeros and stuck it on a nondescript black box that could very well be dead. And now it’s not even on YouTube. Sad? Sure, it’s sad.

PEAK EPHEMERA

(phrase stolen from Grifthorse podcast)

Hey, here are some videos I found on YouTube in case you wanna go down a wormhole of watching old Adult Swim commercial breaks. May the gods of posterity keep them online forever:

February 4, 2002

Spring 2002

June 16, 2002

June 30, 2002

July 27, 2002

August 2002

November 17, 2002

November/December 2002

MAIL BAG:

This ends EPHEMERA WEEK. We’ll do actual episodes soon!

What's the scariest thing you seen on adult swim?

I don’t know if I have a real answer for this. I don’t think I actually get scared by stuff in movies or TV shows. I can’t even come up with a funny answer. Remember the end of that Metalocalypse episode where the little sick girl is dead and her eyes turn into maggots and you hear that screechy voice was like I’M DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!!! I’ll just go with that even though it made me laugh really hard

Ever watch Limmy's Show

I am content just being vaguely aware of Limmy (no, I never watched his show. Seems good).

Please don't do such a big mailbag. I couldn't believe how many r-words wrote inane bullshit to you. Let keep this blog about the real stars: Master Shake, Space Ghost, Brak, Zorak, Meatwad, Frylock, Debbie, Black Debbie, Carl, Sparks, Stormy, Hesh, Moltar, Harvery Birdman Captain Murphy, Dr. Quinn, Paula, Marco, Brendon, Jason, Melissa, The Mooninites, the Plutonians, Peanut, Coach Mc Gurk, Mentok the Mindtaker, Virjay, Antoin, Colby, Trotter, Adair WE ARE THE UPRIGHT CITIZENS BRIGADE :)

I can’t believe this IDIOT doesn’t get that by typing such a long message he very IDIOTICALLY contributed to the length of the Maili Bag... LMFAO, what a IDIOT

This is maybe the funniest blog on tumblr. You really think these nasty little cartoons are special, huh?

Hey than-- oh :( Yeah, I guess so :(

would you like master shake if he did the whole thing

I’m sorry what

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #ephemera

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you-have-made-a-fatal-error · 4 years ago

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Could you rank the Nancy Drew games from your least favorite to favorite?? I’d love to know!

ok! in the form of a tier list bc otherwise i’m sitting around arguing w myself about whether i should rank game x at 22 or 23 or 24 etc etc- and that’s just a mess tbh

untouchable tier: scarlet hand and shadow ranch - tbh i enjoy scarlet hand just a little bit more BUT. on the whole. these two - all the elements that make up these games work together to create a whole greater than the disparate parts. and also having a ‘super extra god-tier’ would be dumb. so we have two.

real güd games: ghost dogs, deception island, blue moon canyon, castle malloy (fight 🔪🔪🔪 me), shadow at the water’s edge, alibi in ashes - all build a strong atmosphere but each for whatever reason doesn’t make me see god. alibi in ashes maybe a touch lower than the rest but only just.

(you might have noticed that i have crystal skull straddling tiers 2&3 - look i know that i like it but it has been a long long time since i’ve gone back to it - for no reason really except that it’s not currently installed on my pc and installing it would involve.. you know.. waiting until it’s installed? anyway it’s there bc i don’t trust my memory on this)

tier 3 games i enjoy but know are flawed: og secrets can kill (self-explanatory really), treasure in a royal tower (because honestly i’ve played it so many times the atmosphere doesn’t really build for me anymore, it’s too automatic and too easy to race through now i know how it’s progression works), blackmoor manor (i just - this game has a lot of elements that don’t quite come together nicely for me. some of them are just a bit too much i think. it’s not even that i don’t enjoy them - but maybe silly ghost hunt AND serious gaslighting AND witchy alchemical shit AND a snarky parrot are too much for just one game?? i understand WHY there are huge tonal shifts bc don’t wanna get too dark n scary in what it ultimately a kids game - but they can be. a bit much.), kapu cave (which i tbh kind of love, but i’m not gonna argue it’s top-teir quality - aside from quigley i mean), and trail of the twister (lot of fucking annoying characters, little to no snooping - but i kind of enjoy just about all of the tasks)

‘meh’ teir: haunted carousel, secret of the old clock, danger by design, phantom of venice, captive curse. captive curse could honestly be lower, but thing is anja is by far the most memorable bit and she’s also far and away the best bit? danger by design could maybe be higher, and then i remember it went ‘nazi romance’ with it’s historical backstory? but jj and the catacombs and honestly the vendors and weird minette- but nazi romance. also every time i play it i’m forced to contend with the fact that i absolutely owned heather’s brown-with-pink-pinstripe pants in ~2006 which is not something i like to revisit. haunted carousel, secret of the old clock, and phantom of venice are the games this tier was made for. there are good elements, sure. but there are also elements that are jarring and/or annoying as fuck.

if this tier list was a pass/fail course, this would be the line separating pass from fail.

‘nah bro’ tier / the ‘i could probably split this into several tiers’ tier: stay tuned for danger, message in a haunted mansion, the final scene - all feel weird to me, they don’t really jibe with the rest of the series. they very much yell “we’re still figuring this shit out”. which is fine and neccessary - but not what i’m looking for most of the time. at the time they were made stay tuned for danger and haunted mansion would pass, but we’re not there anymore. icicle creek is, well. honestly it’s ‘meh’ in it’s truest form, even though i called the last teir meh. the characters all kind of suck, tino the douche shows up again, you have to cook at specific times and that’s a bitch and a half. and there’s no big, stand out element that might bump it up a tier. i don’t actually hate fox and geese though. waverly academy is ass honestly, and if i had added a tier below this waverly would be in it. it’s not quite the worst, but ohmygod it seems to hate teen girls - who are also the target audience for the game, which makes it even worse tbh. and all the puzzles are shit. tomb of the lost queen just kinda sucks. i like it marginally better than waverly, and I do enjoy the hierogylph-decoding puzzles even though they’re absolute NONSENSE bc that type of puzzle appeals to me, but the characters are bad hotchkiss is bad the new interface is bad and i can’t use any of the 800 million oil lamps when nancy needs a light. bad. thornton hall and sea of darkness would be in the waverly tier below this one if i had added that extra tier. thornton hall has atmosphere but absolutely fucking nothing else and the writers straight up did not do their jobs, nothing makes any sense at all. the definition of fake deep tbh. but... atmosphere is enough to save it from the ‘utter shit’ tier below. sea of darkness has nothing going for it and then it had the gall to add chrismas bullshit as though it wasn’t a game released in MAY also I oppose the holidays in general, BUT at least they got a new fucking writer. still not great though.

THROW IT IN THE TRASH tier: secrets can kill: remastered - obvious trash. ransom of the seven ships - no suspects, terrible game mechanics, shittier version of loulou who was honestly already skating on thin ice with me - trash. deadly device - deirdre is shitty, the new interface is still bad, i can BARELY interact with the environment, the characters are nonsense, nothing is appealing, everyone has weird stick-thin gumby arms - TRASH. silent spy - TRASH and also NONSENSE, get your spy/international intruigue/terrorism out of my nancy drew game. alibi in ashes is prime nancy is personally involved in a case material, and spy is the fucking anti-ash. TRASH. labyrinth of lies - TRASH and NONSENSE and peak fake-deep nic-era dialogue - hopelessly up its own ass and doesn’t realise it actually has nothing to say. TRASH. shattered medallion - awful fucking nonsense, somehow nancy cares even less about her friends than she did in ransom, nothing means anything and no one has any clue how tv shows work. also, and i feel like this isn’t stressed enough, turns fuckin nancy into the type of person who would appear on a reality tv show. and why is bess even there? why would she be literally anywhere near this tv show production? it’s bad, it’s nonsensical, and it’s TRASH! throw all of these in the garbage, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

...and i left midnight in salem and the two dossiers out of the ranking bc i haven’t played them. (haven’t actually played secrets can kill 2 either but lbr i don’t need to in order to know it has no redeeming qualities)

erm. ta-daa?

#nancy drew #clue crew #look i'm not gonna tag all of the games #this is very much a ranking of favourites not pretending to adhere to any objective standard #believe it or not this was the concise option #also love anything that lets me ramble on about a tier list #so thank you anon for that #my tastes are objectively good and correct #lmao i really said that mhm is AN ENTIRE TIER WORSE than phantom of venice huh #welp.#i'm pretty sure i misspelled 'tier' every single time i typed it #and had to go back and fix #so hopefully i caught them all because that.. that is very very basic.#anyway #et VOILA!

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mousehole5000 · 4 years ago

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wow i made this draft on november 1st i really took a break from this huh anyway tgcf chapters 121 - 142

i realize now this coffin scene was inevitable. feel kinda weird about hua cheng back and forth from Teen to Big Man but it is very funny that theyre having their “dude dont look at my boner” moment while in the jaws of a water dragon

pei ming: why didnt you guys make a bigger coffin so you didnt have to squish together like that? xie lian: haha yep!! anyways what brings you here?

“In the grand, spacious centre of the entrance hall sat a person. And this person, dressed in all black, its face snow-white—was a corpse! Instantly Xie Lian shut the doors soundly.” - king of minding his own business.

okay this is where i stopped putting notes here for a while but i did save some in my e-reader so here’s some of the highlights

“Guzi used to have a good sleeping form, but perhaps with his cheap dad’s bad influence, now he was also spread out on top of Qi Rong’s stomach like a dead fish. Lang Ying himself was curled neatly in the corner, and was covered by a few shirts. Xie Lian lifted the blanket covering Qi Rong, suppressed the urge to smother his face, and covered the two small children.” - xie lian funny moments. also it would be really funny if qi rong redeems himself by learning love through these misfit chiildren and it might actually endear me to him but i hope that doesnt happen

Every heavenly official was yelling, and even Ling Wen was throwing a fit. “DON’T THROW EVERY BIT OF USELESS INFORMATION MY WAY, HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK I HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERY DAY? DON’T YOU ALL KNOW TO USE YOUR BRAINS A LITTLE BEFORE ASKING ME?!” - ling wen marry me right now

“An expression like “seen a ghost” that only mortals experienced was now showing on his face for the first time. Shi Wudu’s pupils shrank to the smallest they could, and he blurted, “You’re still alive?!” “I’m dead!” He Xuan said coldly.” - okay everythings going tits up rn but i did laugh

i did see spoilers re: ming yi/he xuan reveal + shi wudu’s fate beforehand so i dont have a genuine reaction other than oh shit

“He slowly enunciated each word. “I won’t touch your fate. But, here in this place, chop off your brother’s head for me.” CLANG! He threw a rusty blade onto the ground. Shi Qingxuan stared at that blade, his eyes wide. He Xuan continued, “Then, never show yourself before me again, and I will pretend you’ve never existed in this world.” - okay idk what else is going to happen but rn im concerned that this is like the 2nd biggest ship. i guess we’ll see?? i mean i am really curious whats going to happen to them. shi qingxuan keeps calling he xuan “ming-xiong” and i... sad

shi wudu im not really invested in you as a character but these next two bits... interesting

“If I don’t die but have nothing, then that’s truly a fate worse than death. If I’m not the Water God, I can’t take care of you. I won’t even be able to protect myself. I’m scared that we won’t even last two days…TAKE IT!” - damn. something about the wealthy losing everything and not knowing how to live without it bc thats their entire life and identity

“EVERYTHING I HAVE TODAY, I FOUGHT FOR MYSELF. I WILL FIGHT FOR WHAT I DON’T HAVE. I WILL CHANGE FATE I DON’T POSSESS. MY FATE IS UP TO ME AND NOT THE HEAVENS!” - okay so the whole committing spiritual fraud by tormenting a man and his family to get your brother a cushy title thing aside this was kind of badass. heretical? possibly. but still. also is he intentionally riling up he xuan so sqx doesnt have to kill him? if so damn...

also okay as long as im here im just gonna say it. the choice that he xuan gives shi qingxuan is fucking brutal but i actually think its probably as fair as it could be. sqx didnt know about or participate in what happened to hx but they did benefit from it greatly while hx lost EVERYTHING and i can understand he xuan’s thinking of “if you really feel bad for what happened to me then you have to make a sacrifice and understand the suffering and this is as clean as its going to get” and theres a bit where sqx is trying to beg for mercy but cant get the words out which im guessing is bc theres no good argument!! what happened was fucked up!!

“When Pei Ming saw that reinforcements had arrived, he didn’t appear particularly delighted; instead he threw the sword into the ground, then rubbed his nose and said, sounding grim, “You all just had to come just as I finished making these, what the heck.” - pei ming making coffins chopping down trees with his sword i love it #wastehistime2k17

“Xie Lian brought that basket of eggs along, and gave them away as souvenirs from the mortal realm. Many who received the eggs were overjoyed; some deciding to eat it along with their own blood, and some proclaiming they would hatch an eight-foot monster.” - GHOST CITY GHOST CITY

“Placing the brush down, he blew lightly at the ink and smiled. “If I like something, then my heart will not have room for any other, and I’ll always treasure it. A thousand times, a million times, no matter how many years, this will not change. This poem is the same." - thats nice and all but king... get therapy. i actually have further thoughts but tbh i dont want to put them into words bc they are simply too personal! moving on

didnt take any notes but somewhere in here was the bit with mount tong’lu opening and hua cheng losing it and kind of um. hm. that scene. thats another trope i really hate tbh i dont care for it as a way of including physical intimacy between characters and idk if it really ever adds anything but whatever moving on

The Half-Maquillage Woman - kind of interesting monster idea bc women and aging…. yeah. however i think this would be a lot stronger if there were a) more girls and this was b) discussed or illustrated at all prior to this moment. still interesting that its included knowing the author is a woman tho and there’s been comments on how ling wen is perceived vs pei ming. this book does keep giving me hope for interesting female character arcs i really want it to deliver something

quan yizhen..... i get u

lmao i have a note on a bit with lang ying that says “please dont be hc in disguise” and..... my clown nose was on but at least i knew that. for real this is bothering me how much he’s just. always. there. i know he’s a lead but we didn’t really need him around for a lot of this. oh well. okay now to my current notes

“Yet it was precisely because it wasn’t cooked that it had to be eaten quickly. Once Xie Lian cooked it, it wouldn’t be edible anymore” - fucking fantastic

“Xie Lian hugged his belly. “Of course! Only after having met you did I rediscover that it’s such a simple thing to be happy, hahaha…” Hearing this, Hua Cheng blinked. Xie Lian’s laughter quieted a bit, realizing what he just said was a little too revealing.” - okay i know i said what i said about being tired of hua cheng being everywhere but... the line…. the fact that theyre laughing together…. :pleading:

“It’s not,” Ling Wen said. “At least, I believe, there will definitely not be another in history who can create a dish called ‘Incorruptible Chastity Meatballs’” - and truer words were never spoken

“I, DO NOT WORSHIP GODS. “I, AM GOD!” - this was every bit as badass as i hoped but no one told me it was immediately followed up by a little bit of the ol dinner theater fjalkdsfjsd. also puqi shrine noooooooooo

“Xie Lian sighed as he thought, “Qi Rong has taken Guzi away, who knows if the poor child was eaten or abandoned. Wind Master...... ..... who knows if Black Water took him away. Pray they’re both safe.” yeah hey are we going to fucknig. find out what happened to the child???

and yeah i dooooont really care for the age regression? thing thats going on. i just dont like that trope tbh. but tiny hua cheng whipping out his fat ghost king wallet in the store was funny tho. it is really funny that hualian are just like wandering around some random towns while the heavens are in an uproar. i guess theres not much else to do but its funny

“Me too, me too. You all know of my shixiong, right? Talented, with an infinite future! He only had one small vice: he loved playing women. Decades ago, a little prostitute ghost seduced my shixiong and sucked him dry into human jerky, and that Hua, Hua, Hua, that ghost king dared shelter her.” - yes omg give me the forbidden hua cheng lore i love this for him for real it goes along nicely with xie lian’s principles about giving another cup. god i love shared values

“Hua Cheng poked again, and a small hole appeared on the wall, as if the wall was made of tofu.” - how’d he do that. why is this a ghost king power. its useful tho

*me shaking qi rong when he pops up* WHERE IS THE CHILD

mu qing fu yao is here okay im happy now. once again no one has a good grasp on their secret identity and i love that. this inn has descended into chaos and im delighted and im glad lan chang is back

“The good ol’ kitchen was suddenly squished and crowded, loud and noisy. Fu Yao was chasing that fetus spirit leaping up and down, Lan Chang was chasing after Fu Yao like she had gone mad. Half of Qi Rong’s face changed shape by the way Xie Lian was pressing him down on the chopping board, his back turning into a target for those yellow talismans Fu Yao hurled while being observed by a crowd, and Lan Chang would step on him from time to time.” - this is pure chaos. i love that mu qing was in that room when the mob checked and he didnt say a word didnt open the door just sent out a talisman as a warning. king your disguise is transparent

“Xie Lian remembered the way Feng Xin laughed until he was hoarse when he first heard that verbal password all those years back, and couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, even though it wasn’t the right time.” - awwwww omg im emotional about this... faithful friend feng xin laughing at xie lian’s stupid joke password and remembering it!!! ;_;

“They have, but they’re not effective,” Feng Xin said. “Usually they’re the most diligent in scorning the Palace of Ling Wen, like they could do the job way better if they had the position. Now that we need them to take up the task, not a single one can do even half of what she does.” - typical... typical typical typical

also emotional about the fact that feng xin contacted xie lian at all.....

also!! emotional about lan chang as a mom and wanting to help out sick lil guzi.....

xie lian forcing “fu yao” to let him help “his general” is making me.... what is friendship if not playing along with your buddies little shenanigans while also making them accept your help

“Someone like Mu Qing, even though he’s narrow-minded, petty, sensitive and skeptical, has a bad personality, constantly guessing, doesn’t say nice things, likes to nag, always offending people and has a lot of people who dislike him, has no friends, can remember small, unimportant details for a long period of time…” ”Xie Lian went on in one breath with a straight face, but in the end he concluded with, “...But I’ve known him since we were kids, after all, he’s still got principles.” - XIE LIAN PLEASE AFJDLKSFJDL omg ive seen this quote before but i figured he was talking to someone else not actually to mu qing himself fgjasdkfjsl. god thats amazing. hey im gonna help you out because i care but i will roast you first <3

waaaaaait so is lan chang aka jian lan that girl from book 2 we took a page to talk about and then disappeared? that has to be it why else would we have stopped to discuss her

“Jian Lan spat on his face, then choking his neck, she slapped him twice again. “WHAT SHITTY SUPREME! YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO BLOW YOURSELF UP! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, THINK YOU’RE EVEN WORTH TO BE THOUGHT OF AS EQUALS WITH THE OTHER THREE SUPREMES? WHAT ARE YOU EVEN GOOD AT? YOUR THICK SKIN? OF COURSE I DARE HIT YOU!” - oh this feels so good i cant lie. YES GET HIM!! CHOMPING AND VIOLENCE YES!!!!

okay this description of cuocuo.... im... that sure the hell is a creature

this book is so entertaining bc i already saw spoilers for the feng xin/jian lan/cuo cuo reveal and yet i could never have predicted the circumstances that brought it about. imagine being feng xin. the heavens are in an uproar and your only friend/enemy has been jailed for possible fetus spirit-related crimes but he escapes along with this female ghost who keeps causing problems. you figure “fuck it lets see if dianxia kept his old phone number” and he has but then he hangs up on you. you’ve got fuckall else to do so you go find him. mu qing is there but he’s in his disguise the two of you were using so you could watch over his highness while staying aloof. you think you see hua cheng only he’s a chiild for some goddamn reason but who knows at this point. the female ghost is also there and theres a fetus spirit climbing trees and biting your arrows in half. you realize the female ghost is your ex and the little demon is your son. it bites you. what do you do

amazing that despite everything going on everyone is still playing along with the “fu yao” persona when it would probably be easier to drop pretenses at this point. then again tbh if i could explain my actions to my friends while pretending to be a third party.... i probably would so.. carry on

“With all his devotees gone, only Feng Xin still treated him like the Flower-Crowned Martial God and His Highness the Crown Prince. ” “...his protection charms were all seen as trash. However, Feng Xin was still determined and tireless in handing them out; telling Xie Lian, look, you still have devotees.” “After all, he was the darling of the heavens since birth, high and mighty. Feng Xin so naturally spun around him like he was the world, so how could he possibly have his own life, his own heart” “Whether or not that fetus spirit was Feng Xin’s son, if it was that period of poverty that made Feng Xin lose the girl he loved, Xie Lian wouldn’t be able to forgive himself no matter what." ohhhh my god this relationship i. im...

oh my god i still have 30 more chapters until book 4............ its naptime now i think

#tgcf liveblog #so close and yet so far......#i keep hearing tell of this fabled book 4 i must press onwards......#but now im sleepy.....#mouse mumbles

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watch-grok-brainrot · 4 years ago

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GOD I ENVY YOU ajskskks i'm an introvert and like.... i can't start or hold a conversation. mdzs is pretty much the first fandom that made me actually talk to people and get friends? i've got a bunch of mutuals where we don't really talk but y'know we like know, which is cool bcs all of them are intimidating af but i love them. then i got a couple of mutuals that i talk and shit post with and just, talk to? one of them is like.... really late in answering conversations but then again 98% of our conversations is me making her cry over wangxian. so that's fair ig. there's a mutual of mine that is learning my language, so sometimes we'll start talking in it and i will tell her if her grammar or anything sounds weird. (like, we have a formal you and an informal you, she often used the formal you with me which sounds weird bcs we're friends. also bcs this is tumblr. if she uses it with anons it's not that weird but still funny)

last week was great (i watched the tencent awards yesterday but i didn't understand anything they were saying, so yeah.) this week is christmas!! do you have any plans for it? i don't, the only thing planned is the food. which i don't have too cook myself, thankfully. imagine me cooking, the whole kitchen would burn down probably. (i'm decent enough at baking, so that makes up for it)

okay here are a bunch of questions. i'm gonna think of a character and describe them with emojis, you have to guess who it is. this will probably be really easy: ❤👻🎶🎨

which two characters would you like to meet your parents and which character should stay tf away from your parents? ngl my parents would love wwx, i'm not even kidding. as a kid i used to be a lot like him, so yeah they would probably know how to handle him (also i got friends that are energetically? just like him). then probably one of the twin jades, my dad would clash with nmj i think, so that wouldn't work out well. i'd prefer to go with lan xichen tho, since i don't want wangxian to make out 24/7 and ALSO PLEASE SPARE THE GUEST ROOK THE WALLS AREN'T THICK ENOUGH but otherwise i would go with wwx & lwj, if the risk wasn't too high. my parents would like both of them probably. i could also see jiang yanli being adored by my mother and my sister and just... my brother really likes her in the donghua (he doesn't like jc in the donghua, which.... i understand). one person my parents wouldn't get along with is definitely jiang cheng. or madam yu. jiang cheng would just clash with my whole family's temperament and the same goes with madam yu.

if you could meet one character in person, only one but they can be dead or alive in canon it doesn't matter, who would you want to meet?

do you have a favorite adaptation of mdzs? - ❄🐇

no need to be envious snowbunny! i think being an introvert/extrovert and start/holding a conversation are very different things. as an extrovert i just end up awkward a lot. and i start conversations without ever know how i will get received. it’s more about just charging in and hoping for the best. if they hate the way i am, well, uh... oh, well. i didn’t know them anyway. not much loss on my end. and that’s kinda how i made some of my best friends here!

i’m gonna make hotpot and eat with my husband for xmas eve and have leftovers on xmas. it will be good and chill. i have a board game i’d like to play with him. hopefully i’ll get some fandom related stuff i want to get done done. i am SO BEHIND on stuff. I have two fic prompts that i asked for in october that i haven’t filled. not because i don’t want to but because some other stuff came up that took up all my bandwidth.

love ghost music art? what? if just the first three i would’ve said wen ning... but i assume you’re talking about wwx. o.O

i don’t think my parents would care to meet any of the characters? i mean they’ll just be random chinese people... hm.... my mom would enjoy wen qing because she’ll want to learn all the TCM crap. >.> my dad... maybe nhs and my dad can talk classic poetry. or any of the lans... and i think sect leader yao should stay tf away from everyone... so yeah. him. bleh.

i would want to meet/hang out with wwx. we would drink together. i would make him cocktails and he would get WASTED. it would be a good time. who would you want to meet?

i have only seen cql in its entirety. haven’t finished the manhua (i stopped following a few months ago... ), donghua, or AD. and the novel isn’t an adaptation. so uh... i guess by default cql. ope. you?

#mdzsnetcc #snowbunny asked haoppo answered #sorry i'm not very excited tonight #tired #ooooof #Anonymous

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imma-sucker-for-a-beard · 5 years ago

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>WHAT IS IT ABOUT BEARDS<

I finished the post and posted it on my blog, and sat there drinking my water, smiling to myself. I found my phone and found Chris’ number and texted him. ~Hi Daddy. Long time no see. I miss talking to you… and so much more. *Winking at you*~ I sent the text and a couple minutes later my phone started ringing and the caller ID said ‘Daddy Evans’ I smirked thinking to myself. It is going to be a long night and a loving sensitive beard burn in the morning. Taking the phone and spoke in a low lustful voice. “Hi daddy. I’ve missed you”. Character Paring: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Word Count: 2388

Warnings: Few swear words, slight smut, beard kink.

Requested by: @sweater-daddiesdumbdork - I would love a story where the reader appreciates the beard. Can be soft or smutty. Both, it’s up to you. And for one of the actors on your board. – I hope it lives up to what you were looking for. Love you always. <3

A/N: I wanted to try something different and write it sort of like an article or blog, mix with personal (Female Reader’s POV) experiences. So let’s see how it goes. Before starting this story I did a little research to see what the real picture is when it comes to the view on beards. For the article Read here, actually an interesting read. J Constructive feedback is always welcomed. To @ajs-playroom-you-may-enter, thank you for your quick read through. Love you always. <3

NOTE: This story will be written as a Blog post with flashbacks, there will be switched between them. It will be clearly shown: Blog will be written in block quote, and Flashback with the title “Flashback”. ~Text message~. Mentions of: Tom Hardy, Henry Cavill, Jason Momoa, Jamie Dornan.

Summary: your two friends are named Tris and Jess. Tris is a single, 33 years old that works as a gallery. Jess is a married, 35 years old woman that works part time as a hairdresser. Then there’s you. Single, your own age, a freelance blogger and your own personal real life job, if you have one. You, the female reader start thinking about what a beard means to society in general and to women. You think about your own experience and you start looking at some of your favorite men.

What is it about Beards???

Hi Lovelies, sorry for my absence. Life happened – you all know how it is. Anywho… I hope you all have been enjoy life and are in good health.

I want to share something with you all and hope you will leave your comments below, because I’m really curious about what you think. Now that all the formalities are done let’s start.

I was sitting with a couple of my girlfriends, (for the sake of their privacy I will give them other names), Tris she’s single like me, and Jess is married. We had started talking about men and beards and what it was about them that made them so damn sexy. Tris loves a good beard and Jess finds them gross and wouldn’t want her man to ever grow one. Personally I don’t understand why, but that’s her and her husband’s business. This got me thinking.

>>>WHAT IS IT ABOUT BEARDS<<<

When you think about it beards are a weird thing. It’s hair growing out of a man’s face. Then you look at it like that is can be kind of disgusting. Hair around a man’s mouth just the thought of it sound highly unhygienic. If a Woman finds a hair on her face that is out of place, she pulls it immediately, eye-brows aren’t supposed to be too thin or too wide, heaven forbid there’s hair between your brows at the risk of a uni-brow. The slightest hint of too long hair around a woman’s mouth and its gone, women almost franticly study their faces in the mirror every day to find and remove unwanted hair – But men – That’s a whole different story. A study shows that out of 2500 women over 60% of them prefer men with beards. That’s a high number. I have to be honest with you I’m among those 60% because COME ON – Beards are fucking sexy.. Pardon my French.

Sitting here writing an entry for my blog, I start thinking about what experiences I’ve had with men with beards vs. those without. There was a world of difference.

Flashback: It was back in late summer 2007, I was at a festival north of Boston with a couple of friends, Jess being one of them.. We had decided that everything was possible that week, since we were leaving after that week. The second evening we had been drinking heavily. Jess had seen a handful of guys standing to one side and nudged me. “Y/N, LOOK!” I had looked at the men. “Yeah? What about them?” I had asked until one of the men moved and I saw him. “Holy Fuck!! That’s Harvard Hottie!” Jess had nudged me several more times, first stopping when I nudged back harder. “HEY! WATCH IT!” she had exclaimed saving her drink. She had said it just loud enough for the men to look our way. I was looking straight into the eyes of Chris fucking Evans I thought I was going to faint. Quickly making my escape I went to get a drink. Waiting for the drink and when the bartender had pushed the drink to me and said what I had to pay, I watched a $20 bill slip over the counter. “I got this one.. I’ll have a beer as well, thanks” I didn’t need to see who it was. I knew that voice anywhere. “Hi. I’m Chris.” I had looked at him with the straw in my mouth and smiled accidently drooling when I spoke wetting my tank top. “I kno… Shit!!!” jumping back only spilling more of my drink over me. I had quickly put the drink down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and pulled my tank out and away from my body turning beet red. Chris chuckled lightly but was quick on his hands and had pulled a lot of paper towels and acted on instinct and stuffed them down my top. “I hate when that happens” he had joked and we both laughed. Stepping away from me he had ordered a new drink. I had not been wearing any bra under my top and of very conscious of the fact that my breasts were visible through the fabric. “Here, let me help you” Chris had offered and we walked behind the trailer bar. He had shrugged his flannel of in his half drunken state. “You need something dry to wear” I had looked at him like I had seen a ghost. “You’re letting my wear your flannel!” “Yeah! We can’t have you getting sick.” I had just been standing there. “But… You’re Chris Evans!” He had laughed. “I know and you’re Y/N, or so I was told. Turn around.” I had done as he asked and had felt him move up behind me as he moved his hands to your waist grabbing the hem to pull my top off. His beard was tickling my skin and he made me giggle when he had sniffed my neck. “Mmm. Pineapple smells good on you.!” He had said pulling my top over my head. Dropping it to the ground and taken his flannel and wrapped it around me and buttoned it while resting his chin close to my neck. “I’m wondering if you taste like pineapple as well.” I had been just drunk enough to look at him on my shoulder. “Only one way to find out!” and he had taken the bait. I had turned around and stepped closer to him and cupped his face when he had wrapped his arms around my waist. Our lips found each other and we kissed softly at first, the kiss became deeper and more urgent. His beard scratching my lips and chin, our tongues meeting and we gave in to the pleasure of the moment.

I traced my lips remember the buzzing feeling that kiss had giving me.

Then we look at the different types of beards, there’s a wide range. The mustache with a whole range of look, then the Goatee with a few different looks as will. The five o’clock shadow aka THE SCRUFF now we’re getting somewhere. To run one’s hands, cheek or even lips over the scruff. The sensation of the scruff or a beard over one’s skin is to me one of the best feelings in the world. That was one of the things I talked with Tris and Jess about. Tris agreed completely whereas Jess made a face of disgust. Personally I think she doesn’t know what she’s missing. – But that’s just my personal opinion. What do you think? Let me know in the comments.

Flashback: After Chris and I shared that moment behind the bar trailer. Chris has picked up my tank and we went back together to the others and the moment Jess saw that I was wearing his flannel. She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me a little to the side. “Y/N what’s up with this picture?” I had chuckled and explained to the best of my drunken abilities, what had happened and she had laughed so hard that Chris and one of his friends looked over as us and Chris had given me a questioned looks, if everything was okay and I had given him a smile and a nod making him relax. Jess and I came back to the guys. One of the guys had moved up behind Jess and wrapped his arms around her waist and she had let him. (This was now her husband).

That night Jess had gone with the guy and that was the beginning of their long relationship. I had been standing alone watching one of the performers when Chris had come up to me and rested his head on my shoulder and I had rested my head against his. “Are you okay?” I had asked him and he had lifted his head again and sighed. “I’ve lost my sleeping arrangement!” I had looked at him completely lost. “Huh?” He gave his well-known chuckle. “Yes! I lost it…. To your friend! And since she took my spot it’s only fair that I take her spot.” Winking awkwardly at me and I giggled. “You’re cute. Who am I to deny you a place to sleep? Besides you’ll need your flannel back in the morning!” He flashed a smiled. “Nah you can keep it. But I’ll still need a place to sleep!” We had made our way to the tent, and when we had passed the tent where Chris was supposed to be sleeping it was clear by the sound of it that Jess was having the time of her life. Chris and I laughed as we made our way to my tent.

Inside the tent we got comfortable and talked for a while before Chris took a chance and leaned in kissing me softly at first, and slowly the kiss became deeper and more urgent. I pulled him down with me, Chris laying half on top of me. Chris ran his hands over my body and under my shirt and I gasped feeling his warm hand against my skin. I ran my hand over his body and caught the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and he helped getting it off. And my shirt followed suit soon we were both laying naked and Chris was kissing down me body his beard adding to the sensation. The moment he reached my mount I yelped and he giggled adding a teasing lick. I was about to sit up when he pushed me back down and positioned himself between my legs kissing up me inner thigh again his beard added to the pleasure. He had looked up at me from under his lashes as he had placed a kiss on my vulva before parting my labia in a long slow lick making me moan aloud. “Aaaaarh”. My moaning only coaxing him more. He had wrapped my legs over his shoulders as he had hungrily started to eat me out with licks, nibbles, sucking and biting, until I had begun trying to push him away but ended up with me grabbing a hold of the covers, screaming out my release, shaking uncontrollably as he prolonged my climax, topping it off with another climax.

Just remembering the sensation that I had that night, the beard burn had affected me for days made my squeeze my thighs together. And Chris had kept it burning deliciously, the burning also being added to my lips, neck, breasts, inner thighs. God I missed that.

I read that a man’s facial hair signals masculinity. And I couldn’t agree more… I also read that there’s somewhat of a hidden message in the length of a man’s beard. Stubs/Scruffs are for flings and a beard means relationship meaning the man is ready for commitment. I never thought of it having so much meaning, simply the length of it. That’s in my opinion pretty damn awesome. But I’m still and bit sceptic about it. Because some men prefer to have it at a max length and some men looks better with a specific length. Or is that just me? Let me know your thoughts.

Another I read is that women become even more turned on by beards what we are ovulating. Our biological urges lusts for the masculine man. Our primal cave woman has urges and hungers for the primal masculine hair cave man to claim us and breed us. Uuuh I get shivers just thinking about it. LOL... Am I the only one? Oh, and I personally love a man that has a perfect hairy chest..

Another thing is that apparently bearded men are supposedly better fathers as well, because they are better at sticking around to protect and invest time in their offspring. *points to what I wrote about stubs and beards* I’m not sure what I personally think about this, because there’s so many aspect that’s a part of this. Social environment, Family background and so much more not just the length of beards!

I’ve found a few handsome men that are in the public eye. Tom Hardy a.k.a James Delaney or Venom and Mr. Bad boy with a heart of gold, Chris Evans a.k.a Captain America, Ransom and My forever crush and Boo <3, Jason Momoa a.k.a Aquaman or Conan or Liquid God. lol , Henry Cavill a.k.a Superman or Geralt of Rivia and buns of steel. LMAO. Jamie Dornan a.k.a Christian Grey or The Huntsman or Mr. twitchy palm. ;)

When we look at these men, they all look handsome, no matter what but they have a preferred look. Tom, Jamie and Chris prefer to have a beard and preferably the length as in the pictures and personally I won’t object. Jason told in an interview that his wife told him that if his ever shaved his beard again (bottom picture), then she would divorce him, he did it for charity but he also said that he felt naked. He truly looks the best with his trimmed caveman beard. Now Mr. Cavill. Looks amazing with a trimmed beard or a scruff. But he himself prefer to be clean shaven, not because he has a problem with his beard he just prefers it easy. Then he makes up for it with a nice hairy chest. But we’ll reserve that for another time. LOL

I personally love a man with a well-trimmed full beard and that beard burn you can get from it… Whoa YES PLEASE!!! I’d like to know what you think of a beard so please feel free to leave your thought in the comments.

Till next time. Remember, Be your beautiful selves, be kind – even when no one’s watching. And be brave. Take care lovelies. Much love. XOXO Y/N.

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