#i stole this image from a post in my queue

[majorshatterandhare]

Hot take: I think Tim should've worn these goggles more often. For variety.

[ID: Tim and Frank stand back to back, holding their guitar and bass, respectively, in front of a body of grey water which is directly in front of a stone building. Tim's head is facing toward the camera, while Frank is looking down toward their instrument.

Tim has light skin, shoulder length curly brown hair, and short brown facial hair. He wears a long sleeve white shirt under a vest that appears to be camo patterned with faded blue jeans and a brown leather belt. Over his face he wears a more modern pair of welding goggles than he typically has; this pair have black lenses set into a green plastic frame and skirt. He is looking towards the camera. Tim's guitar is acoustic and made of light wood on the front and darker wood around the sides and for the neck and head. The guitar strap is black and has a red square on it.

Frank has medium brown skin and shoulder length, straightened, dark brown hair. They wear a white, long sleeve shirt, untucked, with a light grey tie under a black waistcoat with black jeans. They wear a thin, black sleeve garter on their visible arm and a black fedora. Their bass is electric, has five strings, and the body of it is a slate blue color.

End ID]

[lordmushroomkat]

Anyway I have purged my queue of Ace Attorney (I posted it all, enjoy the the massive wall of nonsense from me.) So now it's just miscellaneous and then The New Brainrot.

There's already an image of one of these clowns on here so enjoy that.

But anyway... It's Vanitas Time.

I am unhinged about all of the characters but I am becoming absolutely unwell about the titular Vanitas himself.

He's an asshole and I like him so much.

He's unhinged. He's so disingenuous and so repressed but he's so bad at keeping his feelings in. I swear sometimes he's just dissociating in the middle of a conversation.

He's a bastard and a bitch. He hates both vampires and humans for their cruelty but not nearly as much as he hates himself.

He has completely given up on life and is sustaining himself purely on spite and guilt. He makes people hate him on purpose.

He is kind but not nice. He is the embodiment of that cat knife meme, you know the one. He is babygirl and pathetic little meow meow. I want to send him to therapy.*

His vibes are constructed entirely out of red flags. He's a bisexual man that you want to keep 20 feet away from all women at all times because geeeeez my guy learn to behave yourself. He's a sarcastic prick. He's incomprehensibly traumatized.

I want to run him over with a freight train. I want to wrap him up in a homemade quilt and give him a cup of hot cocoa. I want someone to hold him tenderly. I want that twink obliterated (gayly).

He looks and acts like a feral alley cat. His outfit is simultaneously iconic and absurd. I think he stole someone's gender. He wears gloves with claws on them.

He is terrified of genuine connection yet he craves intimacy so badly. He is a massive pile of trust issues.

He is doomed by the narrative, he is running out of time, he is destroying himself through every step of his objective. He knows he will likely destroy himself before he can ever succeed. He is terrified of losing his humanity. He calls his objective vengeance but I'm pretty sure it's actually absolution.

There is something very very wrong with him.💖💜💙

*(I want to send all of these characters to therapy.)

[dreamilydespair]

― ❝ dreamilydespair . . . ❞ . . . all the love, all the kindness, all your best-laid plans, couldn't stop me from becoming the way that i am.

╭ ✩ hello! you may call me nyx or despair. ╰ ♫ please use he/him pronouns for me. ╭ ✩ i am twenty-one. ╰ ♫ i am transmasculine, agender, and uranian. ♡ ～ favorites: the crane wives, purity ring, the color blue, coffee, and my boyfriend. ✧ dividers by cafekitsune. ✧ image id: an indigo divider with a pattern of alternating crescent moons and stars in gold.

as an author, my favorite genres are horror, romance, and fantasy. i tend to heavily involve queer themes in my works. i am disabled and unable to write as often as i'd like. i am currently working on a project inspired by the hanahaki disease trope called the thorns in my lungs, you can find an excerpt of it below. this blog runs partially on a queue. i do not tag my queued posts, just know that i may not be online when something is posted. ✩ despair's dialogue ― personal posts. ✩ despair's details ― my writing. ♫ despair's dreams ― writing prompts i'd like to revisit. ❀ florian ― things that remind me of one of the main characters from my current project. profile. ❀ lysander ― things that remind me of one of the main characters from my current project. profile.

― asks: open. ― direct messages: closed to non-mutuals. ― tags: feel free!

― ❝ the thorns in my lungs : excerpt . . . ❞ . . . are we allies or enemies? this will be the death of me. “I’ll turn a blind eye to your utter impoliteness and allow you to clean your wounds if you give me something valuable to you.”

A bark of a laugh falls from my lips. “Something valuable? I was just running for my life, I really don’t have much of worth on me.”

“What about one of the objects you stole? Surely they must be valuable if you were being pursued for them.”

“Why do you so insistently believe I am a thief?” I ground out, glaring up at them.

“Why do you so fervently deny your crimes?”

“What crimes? I’m not a thief! And even if I was, who are you to judge me?”

They rock on their feet, an odd smile splitting their lips open to reveal sharp teeth bared in an unsettling grin. “Who are you to question my authority?”

“You can call me Florian.”

Their rocking comes to an abrupt stop, their grin sharpening minutely. “Do you fancy yourself a comedian, Florian?” My pseudonym is a curse on their tongue, said with venom more lethal than that of a viper.

I laugh, a sarcastic smile accompanying my response. “Maybe I do.”

[waru-chan8]

Thanks to my incredibles mutuals @lxndonorris and @fabiochampioraro for tagging me on this. I hope you enjoy my answer and don't find them too boring.

1. Why did you choose your url? Long story short the 'canon' url I wanted Warumono was taken and I also wanted something that sounded less 'scary' or 'rude' so I went for Waru-chan. The '8' is because I don't like odd numbers and is my favourite number. (Add all letters, numbers and characters of my username, you get 10).

2. Any side blogs? No, I can't even manage 1 blog!

3. How long have you been on tumblr? Since July 2013, it's been a long time. However, really been active in here since the start of the last MotoGP season

4. Do you have a queue tag? Nope 😓😓😓 I don't know how to make a queue.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? Just to watch fan arts from the mangas I liked. Then, it became a way to communicate with other people and learn and share about my passions with other people.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfpÇ? Let me introduce you to Pepe, Álex Rins' (menace of a) dog He just stole my heart. I wanted a Christmas icon because I was feeling festive, but I did not want it to be Rinsy. Also, my attempt with Gerloff did not work properly.

7. Why did you choose your header? It's just a random photo of Christmas trees I found in internet.

8. What's your post with the most notes? A rambling post about F1, which did bring some troubles. (I’m not proud of that post).

9. How many mutuals do you have? Several. More than I ever dreamt and I'm happy to have so many.

10. How many followers do you have? Too many (and it scares me). Some of them are empty blogs and others are blogs that people no longer use. So, I don't know how many of them are really active. Also, thanks to all of you that follow me in my breakdowns or my ramblings, all of you deserve a star.

11. How many people do you follow? I used to follow much more, blogs, but I needed to cut down the toxicity and cut down the content that does not make me happy. It's getting better now.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? Please, why do you think I keep this blog? I just need to scream to the void.

13. How often do you use tumblr? More regularly than it's healthy.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog? Not really, another blog, but an anon (which can be another blogger). People are getting too comfortable with the anon button and sending hate in the inbox. My patience is getting too short really, and I can be pretty harsh.

15. How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts? Sometimes I do understand the importance, other times it pretty much annoys me. Especially those when they make you feel bad when you don't reblog them because it plays with a person's image and mental health.

16. Do you like tag games? I do love them, but I keep forgetting I was tagged to do them or never know who to tag in them.

17. Do you like ask games? I do love them

18. Which of your moots do you think is tumblr famous? All of them!!! They are all amazing content creators, or they have been watching races for so long that they are practically a better source of information than the official channels. I do love all of them for this.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual? Not in the strict sense of crush. I would say more like a Platonic crush or a squish rather than a real one. It's complicated.

I'm tagging @celestinovietti @lewismerc @motogpee and @alex-marquez but feel free to ignore me.

[pinkiepiebones]

I posted 7,075 times in 2021

1769 posts created (25%)

5306 posts reblogged (75%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.0 posts.

I added 1,603 tags in 2021

#crystal queue - 679 posts

#ghost bc - 329 posts

#zsasz - 109 posts

#gifs - 107 posts

#victor zsasz - 101 posts

#the band ghost - 66 posts

#spooky ideas - 64 posts

#mister zsasz - 63 posts

#ghost the band - 45 posts

#mr. zsasz - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#anyone who talks about “global elites” or “globalism” or “elites” is a right wing extremist and their words should be immediately disregarde

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

so Ghost covered Enter Sandman and according to Metallica’s site the proceeds from the cover will directly benefit a summer camp for trans/nonbinary youth

The other covers benefit other charities, I’m just posting Ghost because Ghost.

116 notes • Posted 2021-06-22 15:02:08 GMT

#4

I made a small guide to Papa IV’s outfit in case anyone wants to know the technical names for the pieces

Mitre- All of the previous Papas have this. It’s the Pope hat! Copia’s appears to be a pretiosa mitre specifically- the pretiosa mitre is worn only “during Principal Mass and the most solemn Sundays.” I’m assuming it’s a pretiosa due to the ornate nature of the decoration.

Mantum- This is new to Papa Emeritus’s look! The mantum is a cloak worn specifically by new Popes. Jusding by the images of the Paint-A-Papa, this mantum either has an elaborate back design, or a second, shorter layer called a ‘cope.’

Morse- The term for the claps that hold the mantum on place. On Papa IV’s mantum, the morse are the square bits with the seven-sided stars adorning them.

Chasuble- A Papa Emeritus classic. All Papas wear this bell-shaped, draping piece. The chasubles are black with a vibrant inner lining. This is the clothing we get their colour associations from- Papa I s red, Papa II is green, Papa III is purple.

There are a couple of really interesting things about Papa IV’s chasuble- Notice how Papa IV’s colour, blue, is visible. His chasuble is designed to be “inside out”- the colour is outside, the black fabric inside. The colour itself is also quite odd, as up until now, the Papas have followed the Catholic liturgical calendar- red, green, purple. The next “proper” colour is rose, yet Papa IV is a vibrant blue which, as far as I can tell, is not on the official/proper liturgy. I sincerly believe that these two things, the ”inside out” and the unorthodox colour, indicate that Papa IV is NOT Nihil’s son/ “of the blood line.” He might be Sister Imperator’s son, but he’s not Nihil’s.

Stole- Another new one! It’s hard to see in this image, but it’s a long, someone scarf-like piece worn about the shoulders. Papa IV’s is smbroidered with PAPA EMERITUS IV and it has a gold fringe. Interesting fact- in the concept art by GoGlo, the stole reads “(can’t see the first part- edo?) DIVINO DRACONI.” Corpse paint is different too, but, that’s the nature of concept art.

138 notes • Posted 2021-09-23 11:02:01 GMT

#3

I’m trying my best to fight the cringe for y’all:

-Copia and Sister Imperator both got plastic surgery (“A two for one” I think he said?) which might explain the loss of Copia’s glorious sideburns and ‘stache.

-Sister’s still “under the ice bags” but Copia’s healed enough to put his face paint on again.

-Copia had his nose done and “eet ees delicate now” which might explain him not painting the rat lines on

-Copia also had his chin done and he worries it’s a bit too much but “ees a strrrrong cheen!”

-Copia also seems to be worried about “de salt an’ pepper“ of his hair and suggested/ asked Sister if he might wear a “you know, mop top” wig and just happened to have a shaggy wig to pet in the video

-Sister is very cringe at the idea of Copia trying to look more like Papa Nihil

-Sister and Nihil were definetely an item for a while and it probably didn’t end great :(

-Copia does not want to be addressed as C, and presumably that goes for Copia, Cardi C, Papa Copia, etc. He’s taking his promotion very seriously.

-Sister might be his biological mother? I’m desperately hoping for adoptive mother though as she was way hype about bringing “new blood” to the clergy as evidenced in Chapter, what was it, One?

-This is the first time we get to see the process of someone BECOMING Papa and now I’m wondering if plastic surgery is just part of the papal package and what did the first three look like before…

-Copia said “I love you, I like you” and so far no one’s made it into something I can download and make into a ringtone smh

-Copia ALSO said “fo shizzle” so he’s still a dweeb and I would like that for a text alert

-Copia has had over a YEAR and still doesn’t quite understand how to properly frame his video calls ;;

245 notes • Posted 2021-09-19 18:10:30 GMT

#2

Shamelessly stolen from Reddit- apparently Spotify sent out emails about the tour and included this lovely fullbody shot of Papa Copia! I can’t fucking wait to see this costume in person… and shake a hand wrapped in those SLELETON GLOVES

283 notes • Posted 2021-09-22 15:07:54 GMT

#1

This summer’s hottest movie is THE GREEN KNIGHT. This movie has EVERYTHING- sleepy Dev Patel, drunken Dev Patel, Confused Dev Patel, EXCALIBUR?! Christmas beheadings, witchcraft, MERLIN?!, local celebrity Dev Patel, amazing hairstyles, arts and crafts, horses, roadtrips, muggings, tied up Dev Patel, muddy Dev Patel, ghosts, foxes, skeletons, mushrooms, JOEL EDGERTON?!, bewildered Dev Patel, premature ejaculation, creepy grandmas, beard kissing, the ancestors of the guy from Queen’s “News of the World” album, sad Dev Patel, damp Dev Patel, scared Dev Patel, running Dev Patel, arranged marriages, bells, kids, letters, giant axes, enchanted accessories, ominous chanting, and a boat. Go see it!!

3838 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 00:06:51 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[hydraulicfluidinmyteapot]

Pirates of the Caribbean

This is an ask from @shrigma-male​, but i accidentally deleted the ask.. so sorry! I am high key excited to get an ask about this topic, as the Pirates of the Caribbean ride is probably one of my earliest animatronic centric obsessions. not only is it one of the earliest and most impressive feats of Imagineering, it also remains solid to this day. it houses a great many iconic animatronic figurines, all of which work together in perfect harmony to capture beautifully life filled scenes of a cohesive storyline. Its individual ride concept was so strong that it birthed a line of clones and even a famous movie franchise. isn’t that sick? a RIDE was the key source material for a whole movie series! but it’s unsurprising, with the time and care poured into the ride. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you think about it, the ride is JAM PACKED so there is a LOT to talk about. This will only be a super brief post information-wise, but who knows? There may be more to come if this performs well. Apologies, my life’s not going great at the moment and i don’t have a lot of spare time so this is not as high a quality as i would like it to be.

Here’s my fast fact file on it!

Debut: March 16, 1967

Withdrawal: All rides are still operating

Attraction: The Pirates of the Caribbean 

Locations: Disneyland, Magic Kingdom, Tokyo Disneyland, Disneyland Paris, Shanghai Disney (but this one’s heavily modified)

Attraction Type: Dark ride

Riders Per Vehicle: 23–24

Number of vehicles:  50

Animatronics: 119 ish but it depends on the ride version

Ride videos: The entire ride varies from version to version and different people want to see different parts. i’m leaving you guys to find your own ride videos. it’s a very popular ride, just type on in to youtube and you’ll find heaps of nice high quality ones. 

The thing that stands out about this ride is the theming and the sheer amount of effort put in to creating an immersive environment. the ride houses an impressive 119 audio animatronics, 53 of which are animals. There are 630,000 gallons of water in the ride (original Disneyland) and takes three whole days to drain. there are over 40,000 gold coins in the treasure room scene alone. It holds what could possibly be considered Disney’s first themed restaurant which can be seen at the start of the ride. It is objectively one of the coolest things I’ve ever ridden. I want to call specific attention to the boat scene, where cannons fare at each other from opposite ships, creating glowing impacts and throwing water about. the first time I rode it it ensnared my attention and completely suspended my disbelief.The ride system is based on the one used in it’s a small world, due to that rides incredible success in debuting a boat-based transport system. Although I hate it’s a small world with a burning passion and refuse to write anything on it, I must be forced to admit that it did wonders as a test on how to create a good dark ride, emphasising key features such as a high rider capacity, boat-based transport system, and proving that animatronics are an incredibly attractive key event. Since the 60’s when it debuted, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride has gone through many changes throughout its location, including entire scenes being added and removed. but what it has maintained throughout its historic run time is its notoriety and splendour. the key change that I will bring up is the 2006 and 2007 renovations that include more theming from the very successful movie franchise. slightly unrelated, but the song “Yo ho, a pirate’s life for me” was actually first written for the ride. The rides are all being constantly updated in minor ways whether it’s slightly improving the animatronics, touching up background details or changing costuming. I’ll attach here a brief sort of timeline of the ride that I’ve whipped up here, but it only touches on the most notable modifications. sorry about how crap-tier it is..

Now, to talk more specifically about animatronics. The animatronics used on this ride are some of the earliest made by Disney. some are really quite basic, with their full range of motions being a singular full body action such as raising and lowering out of a barrel, but others move heads and arms in (sort of) lifelike actions. Some are newer, (specifically captain Jack Sparrow), but most are the original ones from the 60’s. One of my (and everyone’s tbh) favourites is the redheaded lady. She is (very originally) named Redd. Previously she was being sold off for auction, but in 2018 she was swapped to being an auctioneer. She has stunning red curls and a beautiful dress to match, and now holds a gun. here’s a little before and after.

 in the same refurbishment that changed her the mist screen in the tunnel before the fort battle was removed and replaced with a pirate in a cage who turns into a skeleton via an optical trick as well as an octopus playing with some medallions, along with the original 1967 narration about cursed treasure being restored. Her new version is based off none other than Anne Bonny herself (worth a google, she’s a fucking BOSS (like seriously!! Queer history icon!!! LOOK 👏 HER 👏 UP 👏 )) . She’s also displayed in dead man’s cove in a portrait, which I think is kinda neat. Her Paris version is completely silent, but the others yell about selling rum. Sadly I have never actually seen the new Redd in person, as I have only ridden the ride in Tokyo (where she is still being sold).

Now, the barker bird! oh how I love him so <3 he’s a little green pirate parrot, who spent his days crying about the ride. he was originally in the queue area but got kicked outside eventually to help deal with crowd control. he was then gotten rid of in 2006 in the big movie refurb. He was remarkably similar to the original barker bird who resided outside of the Enchanted Tikki Room; however, the pirate version has a peg leg, eye patch, tattoo on his chest and wondrously villainous hat. he was originally based off of Captain Flint, the parrot from Treasure Island. It is theorised that he has a skeletal clone inside the ride; the parrot belonging to “the Dirty Feet pirate”. 

When you first get on the ride, the first animatronic you come across is Old Joe. he is an animatronic character used in multiple different attractions, including Liberty Belle Riverboat, The Western River and Mark Twain Riverboat. in each version, he lives in a shack and is associated with the banjo. I say associated because it is actually a really common misconception that he actually plays the banjo. he does not, it is just a dark scene and there is banjo music playing around him. you can see the tip of his pipe glowing as you approach it in the ride, lit up alongside the fireflies. he is a small taste of what is to come.

Barbossa replaced the original pirate captain of The Wicked Wench in the boat battle scene in the mass movie renovation. he is my tied favourite with the redhead, as his dialog adds so much to the scene. his character moves in a beautiful fashion, lit up by a spotlight. His face is artfully painted, capturing what I believe to be the most human expression in the entire ride. His boat is fighting a Castillo del Morro fortress of Isla Tesoro, whilst busy searching for treasure and presumably captain jack sparrow. in 2011 his WDW version’s outfit was swapped over to his privateer uniform from On Stranger Tides, to keep the ride tied to the movies. What can be considered quite odd is that in Paris’s later renovation, the Captain did not replace the Wicked Wench captain, and was rather added in to a scene at the end of the ride, in the skeleton grotto. he is standing on the shipwreck beside the skeleton helmsman, carrying a lantern. 

The auctioneer. I don’t like him. greasy man. his eyes are wild. He’s originally voiced by Paul Frees (an icon, a legend) and is inspired by Captain Bartholomew Roberts (considered the most successful pirate in the golden age of piracy. He is also a pirate from the ship The Wicked Wench, and his auction is set up near a canteen called "La Cantina”. very creative. He was originally selling brides (human trafficking, not very snazzy) but now he sells chickens he stole from townspeople. however, this is unsuccessful. In the Paris version, instead of the chickens he is trying to sell a painting of Jean Laffite. Funnily enough, Jean is one of Disney’s sort of “stand in” pirate characters that they frequently just use whenever they need a pirate to slide in. Unfortunately, the auctioneer is always kept relatively up to date with the shiniest, newest technology that Disney can spare, and is always one of the most advanced figures on the ride. doesn’t deserve it, he’s slimy and I don’t like him. I should probably mention that he doesn’t actually have a name other than the auctioneer. There’s also a clone of him used in the haunted mansion for the duelling animatronics. loser. 

This is a very long post, so I shall cut it here. I will leave you with an image gallery, further reading and a possible promise of a part two if this post does well. Thank you!

(ok so i actually haven’t got any further reading gathered yet. give me like 6 hours and ill fix it in an edit. i promise. i just want to get this post out asap)

[idlyingabout]

I posted 5,567 times in 2021

55 posts created (1%)

5512 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 100.2 posts.

I added 1,078 tags in 2021

#ace attorney - 356 posts

#deltarune - 192 posts

#queue - 142 posts

#stardew valley - 132 posts

#undertale - 49 posts

#professor layton - 49 posts

#hades game - 44 posts

#saiki k - 44 posts

#atla - 40 posts

#doctor who - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#someone stole him in a flying helicopter and the denny's had sound muffling walls so the person who reported the crime couldn't hear anythin

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

not enough people in the stardew valley community know about how handsome ConcernedApe actually is and it kinda bothers me :/ like imagine being very sexy but people only talk about your indie game that sold more than a million copies and revolutionized the farming sim genre ugh 😒

240 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 23:13:43 GMT

#4

Thistle but she's happy and wearing clothes she actually likes.

@bludragongal did this based on that one reader question(I also tried to look at the post where the outfit was referenced but it was down afsyvsdafsf, I really hope the colors look ok!!)

244 notes • Posted 2021-10-07 20:16:14 GMT

#3

Edit: All the spots are taken. Thanks to everyone who commissioned me!

Hey there guys! I opened up commissions so i can get my mom a nice present for mother's day. You can dm me if you want one and we'll go from there :)

Payments will be done in USD and via paypal. References for the people/characters you'd want me to draw highly appreciated!

I'll have 5 slots open for now so be sure to get one!

SLOT 1: taken! SLOT 2: taken! SLOT 3: taken! SLOT 4: taken! SLOT 5: taken!

Open the read more for the written down info in case the images aren't loading

COMMISION INFO:

1) Shoulders up/Bust commission: $5.00 USD (+1 character $3.00 USD extra)

2) Waist up/Half body commissions: $10.00 USD (+1 characters $5.00 USD extra)

3) Full body commissions: $15.00 USD (+1 character $8.00 USD extra)

WON'T DRAW: - fursona/pets (not very good with fur sorry!) - mecha/robots (kinda complicated for me) - Gore aka blood and violence - NSFW/+18 content

255 notes • Posted 2021-04-26 13:19:03 GMT

#2

ok but will there be a fucked up bed in Haunted Chocolatier

349 notes • Posted 2021-11-06 00:53:20 GMT

#1

has anyone made this comparison yet

1520 notes • Posted 2021-01-08 20:26:47 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuouki Yuugiroku 3 Short Episode “Very Similar”

This translation is from the 3rd Yuugiroku game “Hakuoki Yuugiroku - Taishitachi no Daienkai,” and I will not be referring to it as such since it’s too much of a hassle to copy/paste/look up the title every time plus I reserve the right to be lazy since I don’t see anyone else translating anything from this game! xD lol... as such, this why I will only be tagging this under ‘Yuugiroku 3.’

ANYWAY.

when i was taking a break from filling up my queue with ssl stuff, i ended up translating this for some reason. lol. should probably have done something from kyoka-roku since there’s still that rain scenario stuff and the other char povs to do, but since i have translations for about 95% of this game (not counting yuugiroku 1 [have a patched psp iso file but I don’t care to learn how to extract text from it as i’m lazy] and 2 [have various tl for this... very unorganized plus some of it is incomplete] which are bundled onto this vita game), i figured that it didn’t matter if i got a tiny head-start. The only thing I can’t translate/have no translations for from this game is the section that has no text where the guys comment on various drinks or something (can’t remember what they are aside from sake cuz i distinctly remember Saito saying something about sake and tofu lol), and the misc dialogue that occurs when you select something in the menu or during the mini-games.

In regards to this content, I think this was in what was referred to as the “Appreciation section” [not sure+too lazy to check jp mtl], though the translation of the text on the right on the first image below the cut is ‘episode’ in Chinese so I will be labelling this as such... There are a total of 9 in these in the game.

all images used in this post are my screenshots aside from the game box art (this is the limited ed bonus version). do not repost elsewhere.

enjoy~

Hakuouki Yuugiroku Taishitachi no Daienkai - Episode “Very Similar” 

Translation by KumoriYami

Characters [text on bottom left]: Hijikata, Okita, Sakamoto 

Hijikata: Ah, I'm back.

Sakamoto: Yo Hijikata, I've come to visit.

Hijikata: ...! You are Sakamoto! What are you doing here!

Souji: We were just talking about HIjikata-san.

Hijikata: Me?

Sakamoto: Yeah! You and I were born in the 6th year of Tenpō [天保], really what a coincidence!

Hijikata: What nonsense, weren't there a lot of people born in that year?

Souji: That's not all, Sakamoto-san is also the youngest son of a rich family.

It's no wonder why [these] two [have] faces that looked completely spoiled by everyone and the world around them.

Hijikatta: Are you qualified to tell me that?

I suffered a lot during those days/years [the actual word used is "years" but the phrase used can mean either "in those days", "during that time", and "in those years"].

Sakamoto: That's right, have you tried being a merchant?

If you're capable of doing that, you should go and open and up your own store. [theres no damn pronoun subject in this sentence but based on jp mtl  and context, im assuming he's telling souji off]

Souji: Hijikatasan, you opened a store/ran a store? With his temper? That's not the way to joke [That's not something to joke about/That's a bad joke?].

Hijikata: Shut up! I also didn't think that suitable for me to do.

Sakamoto: After your parents also died early. [Weren't you] raised by your eldest sister who is [now the] closest to you too? Actually, that's another a coincidence!

Souji: Eh, it is like that. I was also left with my elder sister after my parents died early.

Sakamoto: Oh, then you were also brought up by your elder sister!

Souji: I don't remember so who knows.

Sakamoto: You don't remember....... you can't remember your own sister?

Souji: Mah, it's more complicated for me.

Sakamoto: (whispered) Although I don't understand that, it's better to not ask questions.

Hijikatta:  (whispers) Yeah, the exterior of this guy is [already] super troublesome.

Souji: By the way, doesn't Sakamoto-san have a friend who is sick and bedridden?

Sakamotto: Ah you're talking about Takasugi?

That guy is bedridden [literally: 'to fall gravely ill, never to recover' (idiom)] because of tuberculosis.

Hijikata: Tuberculosis.......  it's said to be an incurable disease, [we?] should go and meet him while he's still alive.

Souji: Hm....... There are similarities even in this aspect?

Hijikata: What did you say?

Souji: Nothing, just thinking aloud.

(”art” cg)

Hijikata: That reminds me, this morning you drew on my face while I was asleep!

Souji: I obviously used prepared ink, [so] I don't know how you managed to remove it.

Hijikata: I was desperately worked to get it off! It would have been a disaster if I didn't leave without checking a mirror!

Souji: It would be better to have all the mirrors inside headquarters hidden away next time I draw.

Hijikata: Souji, you.......!

Sakamoto: I don't know if the relationship between you is good or bad.

I've heard that the Shinsengumi rules and ranks are well respected [maintained/adhered to.. i guess?].

But this doesn't look it's harsh to a deranged degree.

Souji: that's right, even though Hijikata-san looks like this, he's a very tolerant person.

(cg 2)

Hijikata: Hmph, it's annoying how you say whatever comes to mind [say whatever you please].

Souji: I'm serious, I truly respect Hijikata-san.

Hijkata: Shut up. If you're going to be making stupid comments, hurry up and leave with Sakamoto. I have documents I need to write!

Sakamoto: What? It wasn't easy for me to come/I finally managed to come [yet] you're so cold and detached.

Souji: Hijikata-san is such a person, but as he says, we should go. Ah by the way Sakamoto-san, are you able to write haiku?

Sakamoto: Oh? I'm only able to write basic phrases at the level of an ordinary person [I can only write basic phrases].

Souji: I have a lovely book of haiku, would you like to take a look?

(oni cg with horns + sound of thunder)

Hijikata: You stole my haiku collection again! I will absolutely not be letting you off today!

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

did this in june lol. 

i do like these short stories... not that yuugiroku 3 has any real plot to speak of, though i have no idea when I’ll translate another of these or anything from this game again for that matter since i still got ssl and ginsei no shou to work on.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

Glorious art commissioned from sanexiah for my Carry On Countdown fic Strangeness and Charm for Carry On Countdown Day 9: Pattern. 

Simon and Baz favor the same coffee shop and engage in a competition over who is the most loyal customer. The competition grows heated but so do their emotions. A non-magical coffee shop AU of boys plotting, pining and falling in love.

Strangeness and Charm

Simon

“Come on, Penny.  It’s just a ten percent discount.”

“I told you, Simon, we don’t do discounts.”

“But I’m your best customer!”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Coming in here every day for the free wi-fi doesn’t make you our best customer.”

“I get a coffee every day.”

She huffs. “So do dozens of other people! That doesn’t make you special.”

“That hurts, Penny.” I frown at her. “That really hurts.”

I try with Agatha the next day. “It’s for customer appreciation, Ags.”

“We don’t do discounts, Simon.”

“Well, a loyalty card then. You know I never get my coffee at any other coffee shop.”

“You don’t go to any other coffee shop.”

“See? That’s loyalty, right there.” I lean across the counter. “I could be the first.”

She sighs. “First what?”

“The first customer in the loyalty programme.”

“We don’t have a loyalty programme, Simon. We’ve been through this.”

“Simon, stop pestering Agatha.” Penny materializes across the counter, glaring at me over her glasses. “Order your boring flat white and shove off.”

“So much for customer service,” I complain. They both ignore me.

I’m still stewing over it an hour later. I come to Watford every day, before and after class. I order coffee and a scone to go in the mornings.

I do my coursework here after class.  I can’t afford wi-fi at my flat so I come to the cafe and I sit in the front booth and work on my laptop.

I chat with the staff. I know all the other regulars. I’m basically part of the ambience.

I mention it to Ebb. “Ah, Simon, love. I don’t make the rules.”

“But you’re the manager.”

“I’m the manager but I’m not the owner. Mr. Mage doesn’t believe in loyalty programmes. Says loyalty can’t be bought.”

“That’s rot.”

“It’s company policy."

It’s rubbish is what it is.

I’m still thinking about it a week later as I’m waiting for my coffee. I’m standing by the bulletin board at the back of the cafe, looking at the flyers people have posted on it. There aren’t that many--a few people selling furniture, a flyer from someone who’s looking for a flatmate, an advert for the upcoming production of Rent at the local theatre.

And that’s when it comes to me. Watford may not have a punch card or a loyalty programme.

But it can certainly have a customer of the week.

And that customer is me.

I go home to muck about on my laptop. I find a decent selfie and create a flyer with my face in the middle of it and “CUSTOMER OF THE WEEK” at the top. I put a little quote from me talking about Watford beneath my photo and finish it off with “presented for outstanding coffee purchasing at this store” at the bottom.

I tuck it into my backpack.

When I go to Watford the next morning I tack it up in the center of the bulletin board. Looks damn good, if I say so myself.

I’m back later that afternoon. I get my coffee and settle down in my spot, laptop open. I have a paper due tomorrow so I end up being there for a few hours.

I could use another coffee.

I’m waiting for my order when I see it.

There, in the middle of the wall, is a framed photograph of some bloke.

It’s a black and white photo. Artistically lit. The bloke has shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair and a widow’s peak. Cheekbones that could cut you, they’re so sharp. He’s handsome, if you’re into those brooding, smouldering types.

Odd place for a framed photo.  

And that’s when I notice the rest. It’s not just a framed photograph. Below the photo this tosser has had the bloody cheek to write “CUSTOMER OF THE WEEK (EVERY WEEK)” in bold font.

What a fucking wanker.

I scan the bulletin board for my flyer. It’s not there anymore.

I’m furious. What the actual fuck? Who does this guy think he is?

He really thinks he’s customer of the week?

I’ve never seen him here. I’d remember if I had. I’d remember that smug, insufferable smirk, those calculating eyes.

I go up to the counter. “Penny.”

“Your coffee will be up in a minute, Simon.”

“I don’t want to talk to you about my coffee.”

“Good, then shove off. You’re blocking the counter.” “There’s no one else waiting. Penny, listen, who is that?”

She closes her eyes briefly. “Who are you talking about?”

I point dramatically to the framed photo on the wall. “Him!”

Penny squints at the photo. “That’s Baz.”

“Who the fuck is Baz?”

“Simon, hush.” “Who is he, Penny?”

“Baz Pitch. He’s one of the regulars.”

I stand up straighter. “Oh, is he?” My tone is icy.

“What are you on about, Simon? I’ve got work to do.”

“I put up a flyer this morning and now it’s gone and this arrogant bastard has plastered his snide face on the wall and taken my title!”

Penny frowns. “What are you on about?” she repeats.

“I’m obviously the customer of the week!”

She presses her fingers against her temples and sighs. “Let me take a look.”

Penny comes around the counter and marches up to the photo of this Baz. She looks it over and snorts a laugh.

That won’t do at all. There’s nothing funny about this. I pull her over to the bulletin board and point to the empty spot where my flyer was. “This is complete and utter shit, Penny.” I whip out my mobile and show her the photo I had proudly taken of my flyer that morning.

She actually laughs this time.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on, Simon. Baz probably saw your flyer and he’s taking the piss. It is kind of funny, you have to admit.”

“I’ll admit no such thing.” I narrow my eyes at her. “He’s made an enemy, I can tell you that.”

“Settle down, Si. Go sit at your table. I’ll bring your coffee to you when it’s ready, okay?”

“I’ll not be that easily settled, Penny. The wanker stole my title.”

I fuss and fume but I don’t have time for it, not with this bloody paper I have to finish editing. I can’t focus here, not with that sodding photo staring at me from across the cafe. I pack up my laptop in disgust and head home. I don’t need wi-fi to finish my damn paper.

I’m running late the next morning so I don’t make it to Watford until the afternoon, but it’s given me time to plan my next step. This Baz may think he’s one-upped me but two can play at that game.

I go to the uni bookstore at lunchtime and find a large frame with a mat. I make an enlargement of my original ‘customer of the week’ flyer and frame the damn thing, now poster size.  

I march into Watford and head directly for the back of the cafe. I pull the fraud’s photo off the wall and hang my own much larger and more ornately framed certificate. It looks good.

I don’t know why I don’t throw his in the trash.

I put it in my backpack instead.

I head to the counter to order my coffee. Agatha is staring at the frame I just hung on the wall. “What do you think you’re doing, Simon?”

“Proving my fucking loyalty, Agatha. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t respond. I don’t think Agatha is invested enough in this job, I really don’t.

I get my coffee and sit in my booth, taking a good look around the cafe when I do. There aren’t too many patrons here right now, but I’m looking for one particular person. I want to see his face when he realises what I’ve done.

Doesn’t seem to be here though, the tosser.

That’s fine. I know I’ve won.

I’ve only got afternoon classes on Wednesdays so I don’t make it to Watford until midday. I order my food and coffee and settle in.

I’m taking the first bite of my sandwich when I see it.

Fucking hell.

Across the cafe from me, projected on the blank back wall, is Baz’s face. It’s massive, taking up almost the whole surface, and right next to his smirking self--in huge font--is his fucking “customer of the week (every week)” title.

I’m livid. I’m out of my seat, my half-eaten sandwich dropping heavily onto my plate. I typically don’t walk away from food but I’m steaming. Literally.

My face is all hot and I can feel a trickle of sweat bead down my back. That fucking arsehole.

I’m at the counter an instant later. Agatha takes in the sight of me and her shoulders slump. “Yes, Simon?”

“What  . . . how . . . who the hell  . . . how can you allow that?”

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and then exhales it in a rush before she speaks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That!” I point at the giant Baz sneering at me from the back wall. “Him. How the hell are you letting him do that?”

She shrugs. I hate it when people do that. “He just wheeled it in and set it up. Customers were freaking out a bit at first. They thought it was some reality television thing. But once they saw it was just a photo on the wall they ignored it.” She gives me a flinty look. “Which is what I suggest you do.”

“I will do no such thing. This is an attack. This is not some bloke taking the piss. This involved planning. Plotting.” I lean across the counter. “Is Ebb here? I want to speak to her. She’s the manager. She needs to put a stop to this.”

Agatha rolls her eyes at me. I’m pretty damn tired of people doing that too.

“You’re the one who started it, Simon.”

“I did not. I just put up a little sign, just a bit of humor, a small way to highlight my loyalty to Watford, since none of you bother to take note of it. He’s the one who escalated it.” I point at the projector image again.

“Are you ordering anything? Because there’s a queue behind you and it’s almost time for the lunchtime rush.”

I storm back to my table.

The bastard’s ruined my meal. The sandwich is tasteless to me now.

I’m incensed. I honestly don’t know what I would do if this Baz character walked into the cafe right now. I’d be well tempted to punch him right in his too-high nose.

I half-heartedly finish my meal. I don’t even have the appetite for a scone today. There’s one thing I do before I leave. I find the projector, tucked into a corner of the cafe, near one of the bins. And I turn the bloody thing off.

I’m wracking my brain for a good response. I think about it on the walk home. I stew about it over dinner. I’m still trying to come up with something when I go to empty my backpack. I need to charge my laptop.

Oh.

I pull out Baz’s framed photo from the cafe. I forgot I had stashed it in my pack after I took it down the other day. I should throw it in the trash. I’m so furious about today’s events that I briefly consider smashing his smirking face with my fist. I don’t. I’d only cut my knuckles on the glass.

I’ll throw it away.

I’m halfway to the kitchen when I get a better idea. Baz has basically declared war with his projector stunt.

This calls for more drastic measures on my part. I need inspiration, an over the top comeback of my own.

I put the photo on top of my bookshelf, so my nemesis is staring down at me from across the room. That should get me good and worked up.

It’s late by the time I get to bed and I’ve come up blank so far.

I get a terrible night’s sleep. I’m grumpy and tired and I’ve got half a mind to go to the Costa on my way to class out of sheer spite.

But I’m not that petty.

I’ll just go without coffee. I’m not going back into Watford to see his stupid face again this morning.

I go back in and see his stupid face because I can’t function without my morning coffee and I’m too nice to go to a competitor. This, this here, is exactly why I should be the customer of the fucking year, not just the week.

And that’s when I get the idea, as I’m standing in line waiting for my coffee, trying to avoid looking at Baz’s looming visage.

I grab my coffee and bolt out of the cafe. I’ll probably need to get Ebb’s buy-in on this but if she let the bloody wanker project his face on the wall I’m sure she’ll let me do this.

The copy shop is empty and the sole employee is surprisingly accommodating. He promises me that everything will be printed and ready by evening.

He’s true to his word. I gather it all up, settle my bill and rush to the cafe.

“Where’s Ebb?” I say to Penny, breathless from my jog across campus.

“Well, hello to you too, Simon.”

“Penny, I need to speak to Ebb. Is she still here?”

Penny eyes the bundle in my arms suspiciously. “Simon, please tell me you’re not doing what you’re doing. That you’ve not got some hare-brained idea to try and escalate this thing with Baz.”

“I’m not escalating anything. He started it.”

“You started it, you great thumping git, with your ridiculous flyer.”

“It was accurate. There was no need for him to steal my title.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You’ve gone mental over a made-up coffee shop loyalty programme.”

“Where’s Ebb, Penny?”

Penny throws her hands in the air in disgust and points to a door behind the counter. “Back there.”

I rap on the door and Ebb opens it. She grins when she sees me. “Simon! Haven’t seen you in a few days. You doing alright, love?”

“Could I speak with you, Ebb?” I can feel Penny’s laser-like stare on me. She’s just a few feet away, arms crossed, glaring at me over the top of her glasses. I’m half a head taller than her but when she looks at me like this I feel about three feet tall.

Penny’s my best friend. I’d expect her to be at least a bit sympathetic.

Apparently not.

I scowl at her before turning back to Ebb. Ebb’s motioning me into the storeroom. “Come along then, Simon. Tell me what’s on your mind, dear.”

I follow her in, the door shutting on Penny’s disapproving face. Good.

“Ebb, you know how much I love Watford.”

She nods but looks a bit puzzled.

“I know I’ve talked to you about the loyalty programme before.” I keep talking before she gets that patient look of hers. The one that usually shuts down this sort of conversation with a kind pat on the back and references to Mr. Mage’s rules. “But I know you let Baz put up a photo and do that projector thing and I’m the one who started the customer appreciation post on the bulletin board and it’s not fair that’s he’s taken it over . . .” I’m babbling. I’ve got a bad habit of blustering when I’m emotional about something. I end up stumbling over my words and not making sense.

Ebb puts her hand on my shoulder and I sag. It’s going to be one of those dismissive pats, I just know it.

“Ah, Simon, I think it’s lovely.”

That’s not what I was expecting. “You think what’s lovely?”

“The way you and Baz are playing this game, back and forth.”

I’m not playing any game with Baz. I’m defending my territory. Fighting for my title, even if it’s self-proclaimed. Doing what’s right.

“Playing?”

“Yes, it’s such a creative way to help us get some attention.”

“Attention?”

Ebb laughs. “Yes, the campus newspaper sent a reporter to take some photos and write something up about your little competition. Seems customers noticed and thought it was some kind of marketing stunt.” She grips my shoulder. “So I should be thanking you both for the free publicity.”

Bloody hell.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they want to interview you and Baz next.” Her grin is so wide it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. Ebb smiles with her whole face. She shakes my shoulder. “You’ll have to say nice things about us if they do, Simon.”

“I always say nice things about Watford, Ebb.” Now’s my chance to ask her. She can’t say no now, not with what she’s told me.

“So I wanted to ask you if it’s alright if I take it to the next level?”

I pull a shirt out of the bag and hold it against my chest. Ebb starts laughing, bending forward to put her hands on her knees. When she stands back up she’s still laughing so hard that tears are squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Simon. I can’t imagine what Baz will say when he sees that!”

“So it’s alright then?”

“It’s perfect. I’m sure the newspaper will be ‘round again once word gets out on this.”

I hand Ebb the bag with the shirts and a small box full of the loyalty cards I’ve had printed up.

It’s probably better if she tells the staff about this. I think Penny might downright refuse if it comes from me.

I scuttle out of the shop, avoiding Penny as I do.

It’s an absolute triumph the next morning. All the staff at Watford are wearing the commemorative t shirts I’ve had made.

They’re emblazoned with my face, full color. I’ve dispensed with the “customer of the week” twaddle. This is all about victory now.

Above my face script spells out “Watford welcomes” and then under my picture, in giant font, I’ve added “Our best customer Simon Snow!”

Take that, Baz.

Agatha looks particularly miffed as she takes my order. “I can’t believe you convinced Ebb to do this, Simon,” she hisses at me as she hands my change back.

“What’s it to you? You’ve got to wear a uniform anyway, what’s it matter who’s on it?”

She clenches her jaw. “It matters when I have to wear your face all day. It’s one thing to wear a purple t-shirt with Watford on it. It’s another to have your face on my chest and have people staring at it to try to puzzle out what it means.” She huffs. “Really, Simon, you’re so full of yourself.”

“I am no such thing.”

She waves my customer loyalty cards at me.

I thought those were a nice touch. They had eight punch points and a tiny photo of my face. I’d put “Like our coffee? Buy 8 and give the 8th to Simon!” Since Mage won’t allow them to give away free coffees I thought was nice to offer a cheerful alternative. I’d put “The Simon Snow Coffee Club” at the bottom. I think they look very professional. Nice paper stock and all.

“Those were just for fun.”

Agatha points to her shirt. “We’re all walking around with your face on our shirts, Simon. Handing out these stupid cards. We didn’t choose you as our best customer. You chose yourself. Now shove off, Chosen One, there are other people in line.”

She’s right. It’s the middle of the morning rush. The cafe is packed. I get stopped more than once on my way out by customers pointing at me and saying some variation of “It’s you, mate, you’re the one on their shirts.”

Or “Nice selfie, there. How do I get my face on one of those?”

And the one arsehole who feels the need to say “How do I get my face on her chest, my man?” I may shove my way past him a bit thuggishly.

The comments don’t stop when I leave the cafe. They go on all day, all across campus.

“It’s the Watford dude!”

“Do you get a discount with that, mate?”

“I’d wear your face anytime.” I walk faster after that one.

I pick up a campus newspaper and the Watford story is on the second page. “Coffee shop feud heats up.”

They don’t even have the shirt update yet.

I check the Watford instagram page a bit later in the day and there’s a photo of Agatha in the shirt.

She’s not smiling.

The hashtag is #SimonsaysdrinkWatfordcoffee and that makes me smile.

Take that, Baz. Who’s Watford’s most loyal customer now?

I’m at the cafe in the afternoon. Ebb tells me I missed the local newspaper crew. Seems they’re covering the story now as well. I get slaps on the back from some of the other regulars. A few arseholes ask me to buy them a coffee. I shrug it all off.

The best part is that there’s been no response from Baz. No sign of him. I’ve won. There’s no way he can top this.

I’m feeling good enough that I splurge on a mocha latte today. Penny takes my order. She looks no happier than Agatha did this morning.

“Well, is this enough customer appreciation for you now, Simon? Can you put it to rest finally?”

I’m well satisfied with this. I’d never have gone to such extremes if it wasn’t for Baz and his doomed challenge. I might not get a discount and I’ve spent a bit more than I intended with it all, but it’s alright. It’s been more fun than I anticipated, honestly.

It’s in the town paper the next day and I’m well chuffed until I get a good look at the article. They’ve got Baz’s bloody photo front and center. The brooding black and white one projected on the wall. That’s the only photo they’ve got, the one of his bloody face.

It’s the photo I’ve got sitting at home on my bookcase still. I really need to toss it when I get home tonight.

I don’t toss it when I get home.

I try not to think about it.

Penny

Baz bursts out laughing as soon as he sees my shirt. “When I said you should meet my friend Simon this was not what I envisioned, Baz.”

“Come on, Bunce. How could I resist once he’d plastered his earnest, grinning mug on the board?”

“I said you two had a love of Watford coffee in common, not that you should engage in an all out war over who is the most dedicated customer!”

“Well, there was never any question. It was always going to be me. I’m the one who literally lives above the cafe, Bunce, so when I say I live and breathe Watford coffee I’m not lying.”

“You’re too literal, Baz.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“You deserve each other, really.”

Baz

Don’t I wish.

Bunce has been going on about her friend Simon for months now, telling me how lovely he is, how she thinks we’d get along.

I know who he is. I’ve seen him on campus. We’ve had a few classes together--auditorium classes--but we’ve never actually met.

I’ve seen him here too, at Watford. You would think we’d have run into each other by now, considering how often we both frequent the cafe, but we haven’t.

That’s my doing.

Snow usually sits in the front and I choose to sit in the back. He doesn’t see me from there but I can see him.

He’s beautiful. Blue eyes. Bronze curls. Tawny, sun-kissed skin, dotted with moles and freckles. He’s almost always smiling.

I know Bunce thinks it’s odd that I haven’t taken her up on an introduction to Snow, but I can’t work up the courage.

I’m no good at meeting new people. The only reason Bunce and I get along is that we’re both overly studious misanthropes and not too concerned with making friends. I’ve got enough people in my life, I’ve not got the time or energy to invest in new people.

At least that’s what I tell myself. I’d make the time and energy for Snow.

But I don’t.

I don’t because I’m a complete pillock and I usually say something horribly cutting and snide when I first meet people because I’m nervous.

Snow makes me nervous. I’d be sure to bollocks it up.

I’m not sure I haven’t bollocksed it up with this little feud we’ve got going. I was just taking the piss, that first day, with the photo. I never intended to keep it up.

I thought he’d get a good laugh out of it. Or finally notice me sitting in the back and come over to give me a piece of his mind and then I wouldn’t be the one starting off awkward.

But he didn’t. He got flustered and flushed, and even though it was a shit way to get his attention, I’d gotten his attention.

So I kept going.

I’ve loved his responses. How he’s been so bent on besting me.

But I think what I liked the most was the way he kept looking at the projected photo of me. How his eyes would go back to that wall, over and over.

But I’m a coward. I went out the back door before he got close enough to see me.

I know the secrets to Watford. I’ve lived upstairs for two years now. My family owns this building. We’ve had it for decades.

My mother lived upstairs when she went to uni.

Then she and my father lived above the cafe when they first got married. Snow may think he’s Watford’s most loyal customer but I’ve been part of Watford my whole life.

I could let Snow have this. Let him win. He’s made it entertaining. The t shirts were a masterful idea. I think my favorite bit is how disgruntled the staff are at having to wear them. Especially Wellbelove.

I’m not one to give up easily. Snow may think he’s got this locked up.

But I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve. It’s a gamble. It could piss him off so much he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Or it could intrigue him enough to seek me out.

Maybe that would give me the courage to finally go through with meeting him.

I don’t know which it will be. But I’m willing to risk it. I’m like a moth to a flame with Snow. I’ve been circling this particular fire for so bloody long.

I’m ready to risk getting burned.

Penny

Baz smirks at me as he takes his coffee and I know this isn’t over. He’s not going to let Simon win this easily.

They’re made for each other.

Simon

It’s been over two days and there’s been no response from Baz. My loyalty cards have all disappeared and the staff is back to wearing their purple Watford t shirts again, the ones with the little crest design on the front right.

Seems Mr. Mage came in, saw my shirts, and had a bit of a fit about it.

I can understand that, I suppose. But I did get the shop free publicity. That should count for something? Anyway, I made myself scarce at Watford for a day or two.

I’m back now, at my front booth, laptop in front of me. I’m almost done with this assignment. I should pack it up and head home soon.

I linger.

I know it’s pointless, since I’ve never seen him here before, but I keep wondering if I’ll run into Baz one of these times.

I know what he looks like, from the photo.

I look for him. I scan the cafe, search for him on campus now. Not sure what I’d say if I did run into him. Something stupid, I’m certain of that.

I don’t want to punch him anymore.

I think I’ve won but it’s not quite as satisfying as I was expecting.

I’m not sure I want this to be over.

I want to know what he was thinking, when he decided to put up the photo. What made him do it.

What made him keep at it. I’m curious, more than anything, I think.

About him.

About why my flyer caught his attention. If he was just taking the piss.

His photo is still on my shelf. I’m trying not to think about why that is.

Fuck. I know why that is.

Because he’s a fit twat, that’s why. Because I can’t stop looking at the photo.

Because I want to get to know the person behind that smirk.

I pack up my laptop and papers. My coffee is cold. I check the time. I probably shouldn’t have another.

I still don’t leave.

I decide to check my messages.

There’s one from Gareth. “There’s no way you can top this, mate.”

I wonder what he means by that? I look around the cafe. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, no banners, no new photos.

“Top what?”  I message Gareth back.

“You’ve not seen it then?”

“Seen what?

"The Watford insta?”

I haven’t checked it but I do now.

I tap away at my phone and pull up Instagram. I’m not sure what I’m seeing at first.

It’s the Watford crest, in purple ink that matches the store logo.

There’s an expanse of skin around it and the glimpse of an arm.

It’s a fucking tattoo.

It’s a nice arm. It’s a particularly nice chest. Flank? Side?

I don’t know what exactly to call this part of a person’s anatomy, but all I can say is whoever it is, they’re fit as hell. I can see the play of muscles under the skin. The definition of their tricep.

And the fucking Watford logo, with a bit of redness surrounding it.

Which means it’s a fresh tattoo.

And now I know exactly whose arm that is, whose fucking fit body that is.

It has to be Baz.

Fucking hell.

I feel a wave of heat in my chest and I don’t quite know if I’m furious or turned on. Or both.

Fuck.

He’s won. I can’t top this.

I should be more upset about it, I suppose, but I can’t seem to muster up the outrage. I’m far too focused on this image.

I take a closer look at the photo, try to enlarge it, but it’s bloody Instagram so I can’t keep it enlarged.

I take a fucking screeshot because I’m beyond all reason now.

It can’t be real. He wouldn’t get a tattoo of the logo just to win.

Would he?

It looks real.

But maybe it’s just a marker. Felt tip. Maybe he had a friend draw it, to make me think it’s real. So I’d give up.

I check insta again and see a tag on the post.@blackaspitch. That’s got to be Baz? Who else would they tag?

I click on the handle and I know it’s him as soon as I see his profile page. Same long black hair. Same arresting grey eyes. It’s him.

It’s Baz.

I hit ‘follow’ before I quite process what I’m doing.

And then I’m typing out a message.

I don’t know what I’m thinking.

Baz

My side fucking hurts.

I’d gone to Watford after I’d had it done, to show Ebb the tattoo. Her eyes had widened and she’d put her hand on my shoulder gently. “Baz, love, that must have been so painful.”

“It’s fine.”

“You didn’t have to keep going, you numpty.”

“I know.” I know I didn’t. But I wanted to. I wanted to do something.

Something totally out of character, something brave and stupid. Reckless.

And pointless.

Something that would make trying to talk to Snow seem easy by comparison.

I think I could get a dozen tattoos and it would still be easier than facing up to the fact that I’m pining over a boy I’ve never even met.  A boy who probably hates me. Because I’m the kind of prick who would go get a tattoo to win some unspoken competition.

I’m such an idiot.

Ebb takes a photo of my tattoo. The local news has taken this story up and it’s doing wonders for publicity for the cafe. This will only fuel that, especially if it’s on the Watford social media pages.

“You’re alright with me posting this, Baz?”

I nod. “Just tag me in it, Ebb.” I give her a smirk, even though my heart’s racing wildly now and I’m truly starting to regret how impetuous I was a few hours ago.

But that’s what I do. I smirk and put on a mask of indifference because it’s safer that way. People won’t know how I really feel if I hide it.

I don’t know how I feel right now.

Agitated. Exhilarated.

Really fucking sore.

“Simon will be fit to burst,” Ebb says. “I don’t know what he’ll think to try next.” She shakes her head as she laughs.

Next? She really thinks Snow will try to top this?

I’m doomed. Tapped out. I’ve got nothing else.

I keep my head up as I walk out of the cafe and take the stairs to my flat. I really don’t know what lunacy possessed me. I can’t even use the excuse that it was a spur of the moment decision. I thought of it when I saw those ridiculous t shirts of Snow’s. Actually, my first thought was to wonder what Snow’s face would look like as a tattoo. I’m disturbed, ask anyone.

But that deviant thought gave me the idea to do the logo. It took a few hours to get a good, clean version of it. And then a day to find a reputable tattoo place to do it.

I take paracetamol to help with the sting from the tattoo and gingerly sit on the sofa. I don’t know what possessed me to get it along my rib cage. Probably the thought that no one could see it there and I wouldn’t have to make any awkward excuses to my father or my aunt Fiona about it that way.

No one can see it where it is, unless I specifically let them. Which--other than Ebb, for proof--I’m not about to do.

I try to read but the throbbing on my side keeps me from focusing.

I get a notification that Ebb’s posted the photo on the Watford instagram page.

It’s getting a healthy amount of likes.

A message comes in as I’m scrolling down. From @simonsnowscone.

It has to be him. Who else would have such a ridiculous instagram username? It’s precious and adorable and I’m terrified to read the message.

I click on it.

“Well played, you wanker. Made me think you actually got a tattoo for a minute. I’ll not believe it until I see it for myself. If it’s real, then I’ll admit you’ve won, with full honors. Meet me at Watford at 4.”

The insufferable muppet. Did he really think I’d fake something like this? I’m a Pitch. We don’t do half measures.

I check the time. It’s almost four now.

I’m off the sofa in an instant, wincing at the pull of skin at the tattoo site.

The cafe is just downstairs but I’ve no intention of being late.

I don’t know what I’m going to say. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll be damned if I’m going to take my shirt off in the middle of a public space just so SImon Snow can assure himself that my tattoo is real.

The thought of Simon Snow ogling my tattoo is disturbingly alluring however. Get a grip, Pitch.

I trot down the stairs but slow my pace before heading into the cafe. I smooth my hair, adjust my sleeves and then go in the back entrance, so I can see Snow before he can spot me.

I scan the cafe. There are a few people seated at tables and queued up at the counter. No sign of Snow. His usual booth at the front is empty.

I briefly consider taking a seat there, to wait for him. But that would reveal far too much. I can’t have Snow realize I’m so familiar with his patterns.

I decide to take my usual seat instead, at the back. It’s easy to see the front door and Snow’s booth from there, but it’s fairly well camouflaged. Few people choose to sit back there so it should be free at this time of day.

It’s not. My usual seat is occupied.

By Snow.

He stands when he sees me, almost upsetting his chair. I’m taller than he is. He has to tilt his head up a bit to meet my eyes. I can tell he doesn’t like that by the way he juts his chin out.

“Baz.” It’s not a question.

“Snow.”

We’re both still standing. This is going to be as bloody awkward as I anticipated. I wave my hand in Snow’s direction and take a seat. I can’t help but wince as the skin stretches over my tattoo.

Snow sits across from me, his eyes fixed on my face.

“So.” I’m a complete disaster. I can’t think of what to say.

“So.” Snow crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the table.

“You’re the one who asked to meet.” My tone is far more irritable than I intend. I knew I would fuck this up.

I should never have agreed to come here. He’s across the table from me and all I want to do is drink in the sight of him. Instead I’m practically snarling at him.

He tilts his head to the side. “I did.” His eyes haven’t left mine. “I wanted to know if you’d really done it or were taking the piss with that instagram post.”

“I don’t lie, if that’s what you’re intimating.”

Christ, I’ve wanted this for so long but I can’t seem to keep myself from being an absolute tit about it.

It’s who I am.

This is pointless. All I’ve managed with my little stunt this week is to well and truly piss Snow off. I’ve finally got his attention but it’s negative attention, as if I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum

This has been one of my worst ideas. This entire endeavour.

“Prove it then.” Snow’s words interrupt my spiralling thoughts.  

“What?”

“Show me the tattoo.”

Fucking hell.

There is no way I’m doing this, as tempting as it may be.           “I’m telling you, Snow, it’s for real. I wouldn’t kid about it. Fucking hurts like hell.” Why did I admit that?

I’m a constant disappointment to myself, that’s why.

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Snow but I force myself to do it, keep my chin held high.

I’m surprised at the flash of concern on his face.

And even more surprised when his hand reaches across the table towards me. He pulls it back before it makes contact with my wrist and I’m consumed with regret.

“Why’d you do it, then?” Snow asks.

Which part?

This meeting? The tattoo? That first photograph?  

All of it?

I give the only answer I can. “I play to win.”

Even though it feels like I do nothing but lose . . .

Snow huffs a laugh. “You’ve won with the tattoo then. I’ve got nothing to top that.”

“I didn’t think it would be so easy to win.”

I don’t know why I insist on being so contrary.“You’re made of trouble, Basil.” That’s what Fiona always says.

Snow grins. “If it’s real, that is. I’ve not got confirmation of that.”

“I just told you it was.”

“Can’t take your word for it, can I? I don’t know you at all. Can’t just go around trusting strangers.” Snow leans back, arms still crossed. He’s smirking now.

“Ask Ebb. She took the photo.”

“Hmm. Seeing is believing. I think I’d rather you convince me yourself.”

My mouth is dry. He’s a fucking glorious sight--all tumbled curls, broad shoulders, square jaw. He’s making my heart race, the beat of it thumping in my chest.

“I’m not taking my shirt off in the middle of a cafe, Snow.”

“Is there someplace you’d prefer to do it, then?”

Fucking hell. Does he have any idea how suggestive that sounds?

Simon

Bloody hell. I can’t believe I just said that.

I didn’t mean it to sound so . . . so . . . well so suggestive.

I can feel the heat wash over my face. I’m completely bollocksing this up.

I’d just intended to confirm the tattoo. I’m fairly certain it’s real but for some reason I really needed to see it for myself. I’m not going to think too hard about why.

Okay, I can admit it. I really just wanted to see him.

Confirming if the tattoo is real was just an excuse to meet him.

Although I can’t say I’m not looking forward to seeing it in the flesh, as it were.

Shit, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since I saw the photo.

If it is real, then I’ll concede he’s won.

And I’ll have to figure out a way to get him to meet me again.

If it’s not real . . . well, then I’ve no objection to keeping our little competition going.

Just maybe with a bit of a twist.

I don’t know what I’m thinking.

All I know is that I’ve been staring at his face for days now. I feel I know every inch of it.

The real thing is so much better than the photograph, though.

The way his hair shines. How it falls in waves that frame his face. I wonder what it feels like.  

It looks soft.

Baz has flecks of silver in his eyes. They look grey in the photo but they’re green and blue and silver. Like the sky and the sea at dusk.

He’s blushing now. Probably because of what I said. I can’t regret it though. Not if it made him look like this.

I made him look like this.

I like that. I like it a lot.

I like all of this.

I like looking at Baz, it seems. I can’t seem to get enough of it.

I’ve tried not to think about it.

But that didn’t stop me from staring at that photo.

It’s not stopping me from staring at him now.

I suppose I should say something. I don’t know what to say.

I don’t want to scare him away.

I want him to stay.

I don’t know when I started thinking that way.

But I don’t want to stop.

I don’t want this to be the end.

I think. . . I think I might want this to be a beginning.

Baz

Snow has the decency to look embarrassed. His face flushes and that hint of color goes all the way up to his ears, which I find completely irresistible.

I find him irresistible.

He’s even more brilliant close up.

I can count his moles and freckles when he’s so near. They trail a pattern across his face, a constellation unique to him.

I want to trace them with my finger. I want to brush my lips against each one.

I am so fucking gone for this boy.

It’s pathetic, really.

I need to say something. The silence between us is growing awkward, both of us red-faced and restless.

And because I’m weak, because I’m a constant disappointment to myself, I let myself say it.

“Alright, then. If you’re so bloody determined to see.” I stand up slowly and step away from my chair.

I’ll just pull my shirt up a bit, let him get a quick peek, and then I’ll spontaneously combust and be put out of my misery forever. Seems a solid plan.

Snow stands so quickly he does knock over his chair this time. It makes a loud clatter and I see people look in our direction.

Blast it. I’m not pulling my shirt up for an audience.

Well, perhaps for an audience of one.

But not for the entire afternoon crowd at Watford.

Snow reaches a hand in my direction. “No, Baz, sorry. I’m. . . I’m sorry.  I was being a bit of a prick.” He pulls his hand back to run it through his hair instead, messing with his curls, before dropping it to rub at the back of his neck. “Uh . . it’s alright. If you say it’s real, then I believe you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s real, Snow.”

He nods. “Alright then.”

We stare at each other for another moment. This is it, then. I’ve met Snow. I’ve finally gotten a tantalizing glimpse of him close up.

And that’s it. It’s over.

He’ll probably nod at me if we’re ever in the cafe at the same time. Give me a curt ‘hello’ if our paths cross on campus. No more than that.

I’ll be the odd fellow who one-upped him at his favorite cafe once.

I can at least be civil, in my last interaction with him.

I put my hand out. “Well played, Snow. I think if nothing else you’ll be Watford’s most recognizable customer.”

He takes my hand instantly, surprising me with the intensity of his grip. He shakes it, up and down, but he doesn’t let go. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee, Baz? Since you won?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Yes, please buy me a cup of coffee, Snow. Anything to keep you close for a few moments more.

“Well, it’s not like Watford’s going to give you anything for being their number one customer.” He’s still gripping my hand.  “So let me buy you a congratulatory cup, yeah?” Snow’s flushed, eyes wide, with such an earnest expression on his face.

It’s almost as if he wants to do this.

So I let him.

Simon

“You want a what?” I didn’t quite catch what Baz just ordered.

“A pumpkin mocha breve. It’s my own creation.”

“It’s like a candy bar in coffee form.” Penny interjects. Her eyes are darting back and forth between me and Baz, her forehead creased in suspicion. “Your usual, Simon?”

I’m feeling a bit bold and reckless. “I’ll have what Baz is having.”

Penny frowns. “Mr. Flat White wants a pumpkin mocha breve? Are you serious, Simon?”

“May as well see what the fuss is.”

She leans forward, looking at me over the top of her glasses. “Are you two done, then? With this best customer nonsense?”

I catch Baz’s eye. He smiles. I’ve not seen him smile before.

It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Let’s just say it’s a truce, Bunce. That sound alright, Snow?”

It sounds more than alright.

Three weeks later

Baz

I meet Snow at Watford after class. He’s where he always is, in the front booth, laptop open amidst a scattering of notes, his empty coffee cup at the edge of the table.

I’ve got two freshly made pumpkin mocha breves, one for each of us.

He looks frazzled. His hair is sticking up in tufts, so he’s been pulling at it in frustration, that much is clear. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes look puffy. Didn’t get much sleep last night, then.

But his mouth stretches into a grin at the sight of me and it’s the sun breaking through clouds.

I drop a quick kiss on his curls before I slide into the seat across from him.

“How was your day, Snow?”

I stretch my hand across the table and he takes it, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

“Better now that you’re here and bringing me fresh coffee.” He rakes his free hand through his hair, disheveling it further.  “I was up half the night writing the damn thing, but I’m doing the final edits now. I’ll get it sent off before four.” His fingers slide between mine. “You alright, Baz?”

I nod back. “Fine. I've got a bit of reading to do tonight.” I squeeze his hand. “Should we get a curry when you’re done here?”

His eyes light up. There is nothing that delights him as much as food, I’ve discovered.

I’ve learned some things about Snow over the past few weeks.

How much he loves to eat is one of them.

He’s a Liverpool fanatic, which would be unforgivable in anyone else but strangely endearing in him.

He grew up in the care system. He’s been on his own since he was sixteen

Every day is a discovery with Snow.

We ended up spending about an hour together, that first coffee we shared at Watford.

One coffee date led to two.

Two led to three, and then we were meeting there every morning to walk to campus together.I started meeting Snow here every day after class.

At the end of the second week Snow took my hand as we walked.

He kissed me for the first time last week. Caught me by the waist before I started up the stairs to my flat. Just a quick brush of lips. Then he’d grinned and said goodnight, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Last night he’d kissed me soft and slow, at the bottom of my stairs again, his hand rubbing circles on my stomach, fingers slipping between the buttons of my shirt.

I’d thought about asking him to come up. I’d thought about what that would be like.

I’d thought about it for too long.

Snow had pulled back, resting his hands on my hips. “I like you, Baz,” he had said. “I like you a lot.”

I’d put my hands on his shoulders and pressed our foreheads together. “I like you, Snow.” It had been a whisper, a breath between us.

He had smiled. “You can call me Simon, you know.”

I’d raised an eyebrow at him and he’d laughed, the numpty. I almost asked him to come up then.

Snow had pulled me close and kissed me again, lips sliding over mine, tongues gliding together, his fingers digging into my hip bones. It took my breath away.

He’d pulled back with a sigh that time. “Bloody hell. I wish I didn’t have this paper to finish tonight, Baz.” He’d looked contrite, regretful.

I’d reached up and swept the curls off his forehead, tangling my fingers in his hair. “Not to worry, Snow. I’ve got to revise for an exam tomorrow.” I’d pressed a kiss to his temple.

“See you in the morning, yeah?”

And then he’d left.

Leaving me far less eager to revise for my examination and far more determined that I wouldn’t let our night end at the stairs again next time.

Simon

My blasted paper is finished and sent off. I’m glad Baz suggested we get a curry. I’m famished.

There’s a place just a few blocks away. We’ve eaten there before. My mouth is watering at the thought of samosas and lamb biryani.

I pack up my laptop and Baz clears the rubbish from the table.

I take his hand as soon as we get outside. His fingers are cold so I lace them with mine and tuck both our hands in my jacket pocket. Baz moves closer as a result and I like that even more.

We get in the queue at the restaurant and Baz surprises me by telling the cashier to put our order in as a ‘to go’.

I can feel my pulse speed up. That can only mean one thing. We’re taking the food back to his place.

I’ve not been to his flat yet.

I mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for a little over three weeks and I couldn't even muster up the courage to kiss him until a few days ago.

I liked it. I like kissing Baz.

Once we’re outside Baz darts a glance at me and his cheeks turn color. “I thought it might be quieter at my place.” He clears his throat. “To eat, I mean.”

“Oh, right, great.”

We’re each carrying a bag so I take Baz’s free hand in mine again.

He lets go when we get to the stairs and hurries up, unlocking the door to his flat before I reach the top. There’s just one small hallway, only two flats up here it seems. Baz’s is on the left.

It’s larger than I expected for a uni student. I know Baz’s family owns the building. He told me that a few days after we met, when he told me where he lived.

I still can’t believe he lives right over the cafe and I’d never seen him before our whole feud. I’d not have forgotten that face.

Fuck. If I’m at his flat that means I probably should have him ‘round to my place sometime.

Mine’s smaller, older, messier.

Baz’s flat is all sleek furniture and clean tabletops.

Mine’s got a lumpy sofa, an even lumpier bed, two rickety bookshelves, and stacks of books and papers on every flat surface.

It also has a framed photograph of Baz on top of my shelves. Bloody hell, I need to remember to hide that away before I have him over.

I’ll never live that down.

I’m not going to throw it away, though, that’s for damn sure.

Baz

Having Snow here is awkward so I’m grateful we stopped for food. It gives us something to do and something to talk about. I’m not in the habit of having people over to my flat.

Other than Dev and Niall but they don’t really count as people. Dev’s related to me and Niall’s been my friend since primary school.

Having Snow here is different. He’s not people either. He’s my boyfriend, I suppose, although we’ve not come out and said it in so many words.

Is he my boyfriend?

I’ve seen him every day for the past three weeks (he texts me before he goes to sleep each night).

He’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up (he’s my last thought before I fall asleep).

He’s someone I’m snogging (I want to do more than snog).

He’s shoveling in the lamb biryani and I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

I should probably ask. If this counts as being boyfriends. I think it does.

I’d like to be Snow’s boyfriend.

I don’t know how to do this.

I’ve never actually had a boyfriend.

I’ve snogged people, of course, but nothing that really qualifies as a relationship.

Three weeks qualifies as a relationship, doesn’t it?

Christ, I’m going to have to ask him.

Simon

There isn’t much to clean up. I finished the samosas and biryani too. I put the rubbish in the bin while Baz does the washing up.

It’s right domestic, it is.

It’s been three weeks but it feels like no time at all and longer than that too. It’s hard to explain.

Everything is new but it’s comfortable. Familiar, which doesn’t make sense.

Maybe that’s not the right word.

Easy. Natural. That’s what I mean.

Like I didn’t have to think too hard about taking Baz’s hand that first time. I just did it when it felt right.

When I kissed him, he kissed me back.

Like we fit. Like we matched.

I think Baz is nervous. He’s wiping the table down for the third time, even though there’s not a speck of rice on it.

I don’t want him to be nervous about me being in his space. I don’t want him to think I expect anything.

I don’t.

I just want to be with him.

Well, I mean, I’d like to snog him

I’d like to do more than snog him, but that can wait.

We’ve got time.

Three weeks of dating isn’t all that long. I’m good with taking things slow.

It gives me time to figure out how to be a good boyfriend.

Am I Baz’s boyfriend? I haven’t asked him, have I?

I asked Agatha, asked her if she’d be my girlfriend, when we were dating.

We’re better as friends than we ever were when we were dating. I never knew if I was doing the right thing, if I was saying the right thing, with her. I didn’t know how to be a good boyfriend so I ended up being a terrible one.

I want to be Baz’s boyfriend.

But what I really want right now is for Baz to stop cleaning the kitchen and let me kiss him.

Baz

I’m pathetic.

I’m wiping down the kitchen counter again. I’m stalling. I’m being an absolute tit. I want to ask Snow to sit on the sofa with me but I don’t want to sound like I want to get him on the sofa just so I can snog him senseless.

Which is absolutely what I want to do. Snog him senseless.

Christ, I am terrible at this.

I rinse the washrag and set in on the rack to dry.

I can ask him if he wants to watch television. Then I won’t seem so eager (I’m eager).

“You want to watch something, Simon?” I’m endeavouring to call him Simon. He told me he likes it when I do.

I’ve been thinking of him as Snow for all this time so it seems odd to call him Simon.

I like it. It feels more intimate.

Fuck. Now I’ve made myself blush.

Simon

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Baz has finally stopped mucking about in the kitchen but he still looks like he’s thinking too hard. His brow is furrowed and his face just flushed after he asked if I wanted to watch television.

I want to smooth that crease away. I want to tell him it’s alright. That whatever he wants is alright with me.

I take his hand instead.

Baz

Snow--no, Simon--takes my hand and it grounds me. It’s familiar and warm and I squeeze his hand as I walk him into the den. I take up the remote and we sit on the sofa, still hand in hand, legs barely brushing against each other.

I flip through the channels, finally landing on a documentary about penguins. I recognize David Attenborough’s voice. It’s soothing.

Simon’s rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand and that’s soothing too.

He shifts and then we’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. I lift our hands up and rest them on my thigh. I can feel the heat of him through my jeans.

I feel the weight of Simon’s head come to rest on my shoulder and it feels like everything is falling into place. Like we fit.

I turn my head and brush a kiss into his hair.

He nuzzles his face into my neck.

I could get used to this.

“Baz.”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may.”

He huffs and I can feel his breath on my collarbone. It’s warm but it still makes a shiver run through me.

“I like this.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Shut up. I’m getting to it, you prat.” His tone is gentle, amused. “I like this,” he says again.

“I like this too.”

“So . . . ah . . . this then.” His fingers squeeze mine. “Would you be ok with me calling you my boyfriend?”

My breath catches. More than ok, I think. But I don’t say it. I tighten my grip on his hand. “If you’re ok with me calling you mine,” I say instead.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, then."

“I’m not very good at it, Baz.”

“Not very good at what?”

“At being a boyfriend. I’m sure to muck it up somehow, without meaning to. Just so you know.”

“I’m sure to be worse.” Confession time. “I’ve not had any experience at being someone’s boyfriend so I’m far more likely to be the one mucking it up.”

“We can figure it out together.”

The penguins are forming a huddle on the screen. I can hear Attenborough’s voice but I’m not really listening to the words. I can feel Simon’s breath against my neck.

“Baz.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

The word is out of my mouth before I can think it through. “Please.”

That’s all it takes. Simon tilts his head and his lips come to rest against my skin, traveling from my collarbone up to my jawline. I drop my head back and then turn towards him. He lifts his head and our eyes meet.

And then his lips crash into mine and it’s nothing like the soft, slow kisses we had on the stairs last night.

This is urgent, heated, ravenous.

It’s perfect.

Simon’s mouth is hot. He shifts his hips, turns towards me and now we’re facing each other, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks, mine grasping his shoulders.

I want him closer. I pull his shoulders to me, just as he pushes his face into mine, doing that thing he does with his chin. It feels so good. I lean back, slowly sliding down the sofa, until I’m lying on my back, Simon on top of me.

I shift my legs and Simon is lying between them, his chest resting on mine, the warm weight of him pressing down on me, his hands sliding up and down my sides. I’ve got my hands in his hair, my fingers sinking into his coarse curls.

We pause for breath, mouthing each other’s lips an instant later, hands roaming over chests, arms, hips. Simon slips his fingers between the buttons of my shirt, the heat of his fingers making me tremble at his touch.

I’ve got my hands splayed against the muscles of his back, catching on the fabric of his shirt. I pull his shirt out of his jeans and bring my hands to rest against his skin—warm, firm, smooth.

Simon growls and buries his face in my neck, his breath heavy as he presses open mouthed kisses in a heated trail from my jaw to my pulse point.

I run my fingers along his spine, feather light, ghosting the tips along his skin. I feel a shiver run through him at my touch.

His hands find my waist and he pulls my shirt out of my trousers, sliding the fabric up until my abdomen is exposed. He pulls back, resting on his forearms, to look down at me.

Simon’s pupils are wide, his face flushed. “Is this alright?”

I run my hand up his chest, bringing it to rest behind his neck. “It’s perfect,” I say, before I draw him to me again, reaching up to bring my mouth to his.

His hands slide under my shirt, along my sides, pressing into my skin.

His kisses are slower now, his tongue languorously sliding against my own, the taste of him becoming so familiar. His hand slides up between us, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt, pressing kisses to my lips as my shirt falls open, inch by inch.

He scoots down, his heated breath lingering over my collarbone, then down the middle of my chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my ribs.

And then he stops, pulls back, brings his fingers along my side, to trace a pattern over my skin--gently, reverently.

I know what he’s tracing.

It’s the Watford tattoo.

The one he hasn’t seen until now.

Simon

It’s there, just like it was in the photo Ebb took. It’s not red anymore, the skin smooth, the purple vibrant, the edges of the crest sharp and distinct.

I trace my index finger over the design, barely skimming Baz’s skin. I hear his intake of breath and pull my hand away as my eyes dart up to his face. “Does it still hurt?”

Baz’s pupils are wide and black, his hair in tumbled waves framing his face, lips plush and full. He shakes his head and breathes out his answer. “No, not anymore.”

He’s so fucking beautiful. I don’t know how I ever could have thought differently.

I hover my finger over the tattoo once more. “May I?”

He takes in another breath and lets it out slowly, eyes closing. His lips curve up into a smile, somehow fond and amused at once. “You may.”

I trace the outline again, my finger brushing gently against his skin.

I think about my flyer. I think of Baz seeing it. Of his response.

I think of every chance, every decision, the interplay that brought us here, to this place, to this moment.

I bring my head down until my lips hover over that spot. The last piece of the puzzle that created me and Baz. I let my breath ghost over his skin.

A ripple runs through his flesh as I touch my lips to the crest, trace the design of it with the tip of my tongue, taste the salt on Baz’s skin. His fingers sink into my hair, scrape against my scalp, clench in my curls.

His breath catches and then he sighs.

Baz

My head falls back as Simon’s mouth presses against my skin, the sensation sending sparks trailing across my ribs.  

I’m trembling.

Simon lifts his head and I open my eyes to meet his. I let my fingers slip out of his hair.

He reaches for my hand, tightly laces our fingers together and brings my knuckles to his lips. Then he rests his head in the center of my chest, right over my heart, and tucks our linked hands under his chin.

It’s achingly tender.

I bring my other hand to rest on his back.

Simon

I can hear his heartbeat. It slows, moment by moment, until it’s a steady, comforting thump.

Slow and steady.

Just how I want us to be.

I could stay in this moment forever.

So I do.

Epilogue:

Penelope

Agatha sighs and shakes her head. “They’re at it again.”

My head snaps up from the latte I’m making. “What?"

“I’m sure Simon put it up.”

I finish the latte and call out for the customer then march myself over to the bulletin board.

And there is it. Right in the middle. Another full color selfie of Simon and Baz, printed on glossy paper. They’re all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, heads adorably tilted towards each other, Watford’s new holiday coffee cups in their hands.

They look utterly besotted with each other. Ridiculously happy, the both of them.

Below the photo is a caption:“Watford’s best customers!” in a painfully cheerful red font.

I roll my eyes and dig in my pocket for the Sharpie that I use to write people’s names on their coffee cups.

I put a line through “best” and print “most annoying” in block letters in its place.

There. That’s more accurate.

Simon and Baz are at the counter when I return, all smiles and adoring looks. Agatha has made herself scarce. I can’t blame her. These two were a menace when they were feuding.

They’re worse now with the constant flirting.

I’ve not seen Baz look this happy in a long time.

I’ve never seen Simon this settled.

I doubt either of them will give me any credit for this. As if I hadn’t been trying to introduce them to each other for months.

“Stop flirting, you two and give me your order.”

“We’re not flirting, Penny. We weren’t even saying anything.”  Simon is holding Baz’s hand and they’re practically joined at the hip, they’re standing so close together.

“You don’t have to say anything. You may as well have anime hearts in your eyes, you sap.”

Baz grins and leans towards me to order. “Two gingerbread lattes, Bunce.”

I hustle off to make their coffees so I don’t have to watch them be adorable together. It’s as sickly sweet as their order.

It doesn’t stop me from putting matching foam hearts on their drinks though.

“Here you go, you menaces. Now go flirt somewhere else.”

I see Baz smile as he looks at his drink. He gives me a nod and I can’t help but smile back.

“You forgot to charge us, Penny.” Simon’s got his wallet out.

I shake my head. “It’s customer appreciation day.” He scrunches up his face. “I thought Watford didn’t have those.”

“I made it up. You finally have your free coffee, Simon.” I lean across the counter and look at him over the top of my glasses. “Now for the love of God, stop putting selfies of you and Baz on the bulletin board.” I make a shooing motion with my hand. “Shove off, you two. I’m getting a toothache just from looking at you.”

I’m lying. I’ve got a warm feeling in my chest at the sight of them.

But I’m not about to tell them.

(and here’s the photo of Baz that Simon saw posted on the Watford Cafe Instagram--my thanks to @vkelleyart​ for helping me photoshop the tattoo)

(this fic idea is based on a real life cafe feud in Australia that was in the news--but did not have the romantic end that this does)

[undxroos]

how I run my blog

SPEED: I type out replies once a day a few days out of the week and I post everything in my queue. My queue posts TWICE ( @ 240p and 720p PST ) a day and I usually will post a GIFset/image and ONE REPLY. This is solely to limit how fast my responses get out and how soon I would get a response. 

This blog is a new one and with the blog  archived I was just so overwhelmed with the amount of drafts I had because I would do all my replies in one sitting and then have like 20 replies waiting for me the next day. I just fatigued and writing was not fun for me at all. Now that I have the time I am pacing myself while I pick up more threads so if you are waiting on a reply/starter it is likely in my queue and is on its way ! 

REPLIES: I do try my best to put out solid replies but sometimes I just can’t and will let you know! I am ALWAYS willing to rewrite, re-plot or just restart with something new! I try to match length but that’s just something I feel like I NEED to do but you do not need to match my length at all! TBH If I feel like my writing partner isn’t putting in any effort then I will lose interest and I think it shows because the quality of my writing SUFFERS.

My replies generally have a lot of details and I try to emphasize my boy’s inner thoughts/feelings because I am in love with details like that! Especially when it comes to his angst or hardships!

STARTERS:  I just wrote a starter a while ago and it made me realize . . . I hardly ever do it ? I generally leave starters to my partners because I feel like a bother if I start. I tend to ask a LOT of questions because I NEED to know how everything fits into place and what happens before the starter I am writing so I can frame it PERFECTLY. I just feel like it’s annoying so I usually offer them to write the starter because I am up for anything, haha. 

That said, I do love to write starters and will write 100 without batting an eye BUT I NEED ALL THE JUICY DETAILS TO CREATE A RICH AND LOVELY STARTER FOR YOU.

INBOX: I love love love memes! I think they’re excellent ice breakers and function as amazing starters! I post memes a lot but I am also slow when it comes to replying to messages in my inbox. I welcome random starters/prompts/character questions/etc. 

If you’ like to talk OOC my IM is always open for plotting or just chatting!

I am fine with anonymous messages but any hate or drama will be ignored .

SELECTIVITY:  I generally try to follow everyone because I can see Peter in so many different scenarios and interacting with different characters and fandoms. That’s what this is all about and I LOVE exploring the stories and dynamics! I don’t follow for follow, I follow because I can see Peter interacting with your character(s) somehow .

I DO NOT FOLLOW BACK personal blogs ( I check them out but I don’t follow back to keep my dash clean), the RP blogs that are exclusively for sex ( I just don’t feel like writing PWP explicit content ) and blogs that are like roleplay blogs but NOT really, the ones that post like . . .  personal/OC content that has nothing to do with the character and you can’t tell right off that bat that it’s a RP blog for a character ( if that makes sense ) .

WISHLIST: ANGST. I am always looking for ANGST, feelings, anything that lets me get into Peter’s head-space. On the flip side I am desperate for a slice of life, simple, missions, celebrating, studying/helping with homework, mentors for Peter, like . . . everything. My wish-list is EVERYTHING.

HONEST NOTE: I am anxious about approaching anyone but if you start a conversation ( honestly even a ‘ hello ’ ) I am all over it! I want to talk to all of you and I know you have followed because you WANT to interact but I have it in my head that NO ONE WANTS ME TO TALK TO THEM BECAUSE I AM POTATO. I know others feel the same so I do try to reach out in my own way by sending memes and such but I am the WORSSSST, haha.

Tagged by: @cautionbewareofdog​ 💙 Tagging: @ofauroradreams / @ofgreasestains / @lightbalances / @not-completely-human / @einhcrjar / @witchinscarlets / @goddessoffidelityy / @amaltlhea​ / @waspbrcvcd​ / @hcpefell​ / @de-mal-foi​ / @tasteofwitchblood​ & YOU just say you stole it from me!

[bangtansmutcentral]

[Please Read]

We would like to start off by apologising to our members and followers for making you have to witness this. It is in our opinion totally unnecessary, but since we’re getting these asks we need to address them.

We would like to say that whoever is sending these could have acted like an adult and contacted us privately and expressed their concerns. We were never hostile or unapproachable so we don’t understand why hide behind an anonymous ask. Either way, it is done.  

Since I (admin sue) started working on the network alone, before inviting my friends to join, I’ll be speaking for the 3 of us. 

After getting theses asks we didn’t know what to make of them, because we literally didn’t know what they were talking about, but after going to said network to see if something was going on, we saw a post, that didn’t mention any networks, talking about stealing content, not having their own ideas, taking advantage of what they’ve worked so hard to accomplish and we did NOT think it was about us, since we NEVER stole anything. But it is obvious, after getting these asks, that they are talking about us.

For what I understand, ---net, is a writers network that work and share smut content. Our network was made to gather and share ALL KINDS of posts. You can see that if you go on our application form and find the following: 

We never intended to be a writers only net. We have writers of course and it is a big part of what we share but we are definitely not a writers network and as we grow, we hope to make the net even more diverse. 

I’m from the side of tumblr that is more visual, and I saw most pages I followed close due to the policy changes on tumblr and because of that, what is left in smut is mostly writing. That is why we have more writers than other creators, but we are not a writers club or writers network. We will hopefully encourage people to get out of their comfort zone and try new things and express themselves in different ways, other than writing, while of course keeping and giving the deserved space writing has.

I’ve been blogging for 2 years now and my personal blog has over 26k followers. I’m not saying this to brag, that is definitely the last thing I want to do, but I want to show you that I’m not after a following or attention at any cost. Of course we want to see whatever we create succeeding, but we’re not in this to steal anything from anyone, generate hate or compete.

The network was made because I wanted a new project that would bring all smut content to one place. I miss having this diversity of content on my feed and wanted to create something I would enjoy as well as help other people come together since nowadays it’s harder to do that here. Plus, having my friends join me on this made it a very special and fun idea. 

We never owned any networks, or were a part of them in any way. My page for example is more visual contente than written, so I didn’t even know of these writers networks. To see how this is true, I went on my blog and asked smut creators to get in touch with me for a new project, then searched for some smut blogs and messaged them one by one asking if they would be up for a net because I didn’t even know if anyone would be interested, let alone, think that there was already one! Even though we know all the networks for sharing pics and gifs, smut networks were something we never knew existed (and now, seeing that they do exist, I think that there is space for all of us, in our own way). Here is how I went about it:

I even messaged one of the ----net admins, as a creator (without knowing that she had a net), asking if she wanted to join us, and that’s when we found out they existed! She even told us that they already used ‘---’ and I apologised and changed our visual identity completely so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings. I changed our #, header, icon, everything. I just didn’t change the name because we would have to create a blog from scratch and we already had started promoting the page everywhere. The name was created randomly, if we knew there was a net with a similar name of course we would want something completely different because we don’t need to feed off of other blogs success or image. We are just not that kind of people. We want to start small and slowly learn about our members, our followers and what content is best and how to navigate the net. At the time I didn’t even give it much importance since it was just a name… for me personally it wasn’t something worthy of a fight. But apologised and changed everything else as soon as I could. Is that me being unfriendly and rude? Is that the behaviour of someone that wants to steal something from anyone? ‘

When I started setting up the blog (after changing the items), I din’t know the first thing about a net, or anyone that I could ask about it, so I just went around all networks I could find (---net included) to see how a network works basically. I found out that the rules are basically the same, the application forms as well and the aim of all of them is to share creators content. We didn’t think we were stealing anything by making similar rules to everyone. I personally wouldn’t mind if someone took inspiration from my page or even copy-pasted word by word of my rules pages for ex. For me, it is not stealing content, it’s just rules... I wouldn’t mind at all, but of course that is personal. 

The 3 of us are finishing our masters degree, so we see tumblr as a hobby. We have the utmost respect for everyone and everyone’s work but it is just our hobby. One of us is in her exam period, the other finishing her thesis, I’m having my mom over for summer so we wouldn’t have time to keep the blog running if we didn’t queue posts, and since we’re 3 admins, 3 posts are ideal (one for each) and of course alphabetically through our members because that’s common sense.

This was mostly so in this busy month the blog wouldn’t die. We didn’t think that that would cause such a problem.  If this net is really talking about us, they could have reached us and talked to us in private without causing such a commotion. We were never hostile to anyone, never offended anyone in anyway so we don’t understand why they did things the way they did, but then again we are all different people. If what bothers you anon, (and assuming you’re associated with the net some way) is that our acceptance post has similar rules (because that’s the only thing we’ve put out so far, so you must be talking about that… we’re a few days old… we literally have done nothing yet), you could have reached us and said so and we would have gladly changed it. It would however remain very similar, since we share mostly the same kind of content and every network has pretty much the same acceptance rules. Also a members page, a navi page, a tag system.. how did we copy you on that? That’s how all the networks I saw work! And how did all nets start? Didn’t they start by looking at other nets to see how this ’network thing’ works and basically start the same as them, since the rules are all the same, and then find their own place and change things over time? Someone said that it is disheartening to see others gain from what they’ve worked hard to create. What have we gained? How have we used their creations to gain anything? Because we’re queuing posts? We can change the way we worded that, but we will keep queuing from our members because we don’t have time at the moment to keep the blog going otherwise.

The disclaimers are similar? But of course they are! We hope people have common sense but some things are triggering and must be advised against. I myself for example, have some triggers that I don’t want in my net!

We really don’t believe that this is aimed at us, it really can’t be, because we have an acceptance post out so far and nothing else. The rest is just the normal things every net has as I said before, so if this is all a misunderstanding and since no one from the net reached us, we would like to apologise if their post was directed at someone else.

Lastly I’d like to say a few things:

We wanted a page with a variety of content, a variety of individuals, have thought of ways to encourage visual creativity and fun stuff to do in the future. We wanted to create a feed that we missed having. We just wanted to have fun and meet new people. 

We find this absolutely unnecessary. People have better things to do than to be reading these long arguments. We are a small page that wanted to do something for us and for the people that choose to follow us. Most importantly, we didn’t mean any harm. We can see that ---net has a very beautiful page and I’m sure full of talented people and it was NEVER out intention to copy or disrespect anyone. As I said before we are not a writers club so we won’t be as similar as it might seem. We are as similar as all networks within the same genre are. 

We think that if this was aimed at us, it could have been dealt with privately. We are not animals that can’t be talked to, we were and always will be open to learn and grow with everyone and apologise if we hurt anyone even if not intentionally. But since it started publicly and without us even knowing, and now getting all this hate, it’s only fitting that it ends publicly as well. We will not be addressing this anymore. We are only a few days old but already cherish our members and followers very much. With that being said, if you are a member of ---net and feel like you shouldn’t follow us or be a member, for believing that we did something we didn’t do, you are free to leave us. Though it pains us, we understand that trust is earned and being with a net for so long and then seeing these accusations, you can only think the worst of us, so we won’t make it hard or awkward for you if you want to leave. I actually considered deleting the network because this is causing way too much anxiety that I personally don’t need in my life right now, but my dear friends and admins here talked me out of it because we didn’t do anything wrong. Through all theses years here, I NEVER disrespected anyone, my page was NEVER involved in anything bad and we only spread love, positivity and have fun, so thinking that someone can think such bad things of me is almost unbearable. 

ps. English is only my 3rd language so please excuse any mistakes such a long post might contain.

Admin sue

In name of Bangtan Smut Central Netwok.

[jelpiparade]

Ocean Pearls: Dev Log #2 [20 Aug 2019]

Wow. Look at that. Tuesday already! And I actually wrote this! Two for two means I’m feeling cool about actually doing this again. And... okay, let me just get into it, haha.

^^^ ...is the original intro for this post, which I wrote on Tuesday and then proceeded to save in my drafts instead of putting it in the queue.

How ironic, considering the subject of this devlog...

One of the things I want to talk about is progress. The first subject of which is... delays. Not that there is one (currently, there aren’t anyway) but I’ve been working on OP for quite a while now and most of the delays were born of straight up frustration. I think one of the hardest things as a dev who only writes is hiring people who are willing to stick with a project, and when you watch people around you giving up, it’s pretty... contagious, actually.

Ocean Pearls has had four artists before the current artists joined the team. (I say current artists because as of now, there is one line artist and one colorist.) Before AdamsDoodles (the current line artist), the furthest an artist ever made it through was.... four characters. But I should mention... I didn’t make this post to bag on them--far from it, actually!

Life happens, and sometimes people lose interest--especially when you say, “Hi, so I have this otome project... oh, and it’s got 16 characters.” So, under the theme of progress, I also want to talk about change: how much Ocean Pearls has evolved!

[IMAGE]: Three side by side versions of Lemos Bassai, the main love interest of the South Pacific Ocean route and one of the five love interests of Ocean Pearls. Not pictured is the current version of Lemos. 

When I first conceptualized Ocean Pearls, Nova was not romancing five ocean kings--but rather the oceans themselves. That said, I was unable to ever get over the whole “this ocean is millions of years old.... and has fallen in love with a twenty-something year old.” I know, I know. Ancient x mortal romances are relatively popular so I shouldn’t been such a weenie, but there it is. I settled on ocean kings, and settle further on mer-men.

Haha, so not much of a departure.

There is one love interest who is significantly older than Nova, but... we’ll cross his bridge when we get to it. ;^)

The first king that was conceptualized is Lemos, the king of the South Pacific Ocean. According to my notes, he was supposed to actually be named Pacific, since he was... the Pacific Ocean. A bit weird to imagine now, I suppose.

Moving on~!

This past week’s progress:

More blinking sprites. Haha. Sorry to disappoint, but it’s hard to edit so many eyelids!

6 of Nova’s 9 outfits are completely colored!

Current feature highlight!

Did you know? When you first meet a romanceable character, they sparkle? I admit, I totally stole the idea from Harvest Moon: Animal Parade. But it looks so pretty! I’ll be posting hosting a twitter poll to see who will get their next biography and a preview of them sparkling posted!

Edit: Since I forgot to post this devlog yesterday... I’m going to be posting that twitter poll today.

//owl

Don’t follow my twitter? You can fix that here!

[aweirdkindofyellow]

Here I Am, There You Are Pt. 6

Jack Barakat x OC ‘Rachel has been best friends with Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack since high school. What happens when one of them gets married?’

Part 6

Once nine o’clock came rolling around, I was leaving a taxi with a duffle bag hanging from my shoulder and my handbag awkwardly balancing on top of the duffle bag’s strap. Honestly, I felt like a teenager leaving my best friend’s house after a sleepover. Only, I was much older than a teenager, and I was coming back from work. Although, you could technically say that I was going to go to a sleepover.

Other than being late, work also left me in an inappropriate outfit for the situation. First of all, heels. Completely open heels. They were okay for sitting in meetings for an entire day, but not for what was to come. Along with those heels I was wearing some dark blue high waisted dress pants. The shirt wasn’t too bad, it was a white t-shirt, but I was also wearing a blazer that matched with the pants. It truly was the perfect outfit for work, which meant it was the worst outfit for a concert.

Music was already booming from inside the venue. The queue outside was already long gone, the only people still outside only being there to clean up the trash that people had left behind. I rolled my eyes, remembering the many times I would freak out on the guys when they left their trash outside when we were waiting to get into a concert back in high school. But, hey, what can you do. Nobody wants to lose their spot to go to the bin.

I went to the back entrance to find nothing but a closed door. Originally, there was going to be somebody waiting to greet me and take me inside, but once again I was way too late for that. Everybody was busy doing their jobs. I was going to have to call Jack so either he could let me in or he could find somebody else to let me in. But my phone was somewhere at the bottom of my bag, so it was a real struggle. Before I started swearing and getting too annoyed, I happened to notice somebody in the hallway inside through the small window at eye-height in the door.

I knocked on the window loudly and waved to get her attention. She looked up at me and I recognised her as the first supporting act’s lead singer. At first, she looked very confused, but I beckoned for her to come over, hoping I wasn’t coming over as too creepy. Luckily, she came over and opened the door, but she did the right thing not opening it too far and letting me in.

“Hi?” She said with much confusion.

“Hi,” I sighed in relief. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not a crazy fan trying to get backstage. I’m Jack’s girlfriend.” She continued to stare at me, making me realise that ‘Jack’ could literally be anybody. I quickly clarified, “Jack Barakat.”

“Oh, umm…” She still seemed skeptical and glanced inside to see if there was anybody who could help her, but nobody was there.

“You have no reason to believe me,” I said to show I knew and understood her fear. “I’d call him, but I literally can’t find my phone right now. I could… umm… you could check his instagram? I’m on there.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll check.” She pulled out her phone from her back pocket.

I apologised when she unlocked it and opened the app. She searched for Jack’s profile and tapped on it before scrolling through the images. We went past many images, making my case look very bad. I could tell she didn’t really believe me anymore, if she ever did. Even I would have doubted myself. But then she happened to scroll past a post Jack had put up on our anniversary, which was also Alex’s and Lisa’s anniversary. We were very unsure about posting anything on that day, not wanting to take away from their special day, but they said it didn’t matter.

“Hang on. There!” I exclaimed with a bit too much excitement, making her go back to the post.

“That’s you?” She still seemed unconvinced as she zoomed into the photo.

“Yeah,” I nodded, knowing it wasn’t an all too great photo since it was from quite a distance and my hair was a lot longer. “I should be tagged in it. If not, he’s got some explaining to do.”

But, when she tapped on the photo, my username popped up. She tapped on it and opened my profile. There, it looked a lot more like me. I also had a few more photos with Jack posted on mine than Jack had on his of me. The only reason I didn’t tell her to go to my profile first was because I could have easily taken them at some meet and greet or used some amazing photoshop skills, which both weren’t the case, but still.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she apologised when she realised I was telling the truth and nothing but the truth, and let me in.

“No, it’s cool. Better safe than sorry. I could have been a fan with an elaborate plan,” I told her.

“Okay, well, I’ve got to go into the opposite direction, but All Time Low’s dressing room is just down the hall, to the right, and then three doors down. There’s also signs when you go to the right, so don’t worry too much about finding your way around.”

I thanked her and we parted ways. Although I could remember the directions she gave me, I followed the signs all the way to the dressing room. The boys were getting ready to play their shows. They all had their clothes on and were busy getting their in-ear monitors ready. It was only half an hour until they had to be on stage.

“Hey, it’s Rachel!” Alex was the first to notice me enter the doorway.

Jack immediately perked up and looked up over Zack’s shoulder, who he was helping with the in-ear monitors.

“Hey, guys, I’m so sorry I’m so awfully late,” I apologised despite the fact that I knew I hadn’t inconvenienced them and had kept Jack up to date through brief texts. “I’m just going to go change and let you guys finish what you’re doing.”

“Wait,” Jack stopped me, his hands still on the Zack’s jean’s waistband to attach the box. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Originally, Jack and I were going to go out for dinner together. He had made reservations and everything. It would have meant that we would have missed the first support act, but we would have been back way sooner than I came. However, that plan obviously fell through. Instead, he went and had that dinner with Rian because it would have been a waste of a reservation otherwise.

“No, I haven’t had time to even think about food today. But I have...” I shook my head and looked into my handbag. I had brought a lunch with me to work and was assuming that I had brought it with me. But I had left it in the fridge at work. “… a mini KitKat. I’ll be fine.”

After that, I slipped into the bathroom and stripped off the clothes I had been wearing for over twelve hours. Now was my time to put on a concert-ready outfit, or also known to me as some normal clothing. I pulled on my ripped blue jeans and a dark gray t-shirt before discarding my heels for some black vans. There was no real reason to dress up or think too much about it. Next, I brushed my hair, deciding it was too messy and putting it up in a ponytail, and then just took off all my makeup. My skin needed to breathe. I tried to be as quick as possible, knowing that it was only a matter of time until they had to move to the stage.

When I came back into the dressing room, the boys were done with helping each other. They were now playing some loud music through their large speakers. Alex was doing his silly dancing, Rian was sitting on one of the couches tapping along to the music, and Zack felt the need to do some pushups. And Jack? Well, Jack was stood at the microwave pulling out a styrofoam box.

He grabbed a fork from a container and made his way over to me, giving it all to me. “Here, eat this. I was keeping it for myself for later, but you need it more.”

I opened the take-away box and saw some delicious looking pasta from the restaurant we were supposed to go to. “Thank you.” I quickly pecked him on the lips before digging in.

“Ugh,” Alex groaned in disgust. I looked at him to see his scrunched up nose and dirty look was directed at me and Jack.

“What? Can’t deal with a little minor PDA?” I commented while still eating my pasta.

“No, I can deal with it, but you guys…” he visibly shivered on purpose and pulled the same face again. “I’m used to you acting all close, you even did that back in high school. But you guys kissing and knowing you guys– you guys– It’s like knowing my parents–” He added a faking gagging noise.

“Well, deal with it,” Jack retorted and wrapped and arm around my waist for emphasis. “She’s here for a week and I’m going to be making sweet sweet love to her.”

“Sweet sweet love,” I repeated in a singsong voice just to watch Alex squirm.

“You guys disgust me. Keep that out of my face,” Alex said sternly, but I could tell he was just joking. He liked me and Jack together, he had made that clear many times before.

I continued to stuff the pasta into my mouth to try and finish it on time. It wasn’t long until they were going to go side stage. I didn’t want to bring it with me, but I did want to finish it. Although I wasn’t hungry before, one bite rejigged my stomach and it started sending messages to my brain again to eat. Once I finished it, I put it to the side and remembered one last thing I wanted to wear to hide the mess that was my hair.

I pulled out a black baseball cap with a logo on the front of it and showed it to Jack. “You might not remember this, but I stole this from you.”

“Really?” He took it out of my hands and inspected it with a frown. I could see him trying to imagine the rack he had in his closet for all his caps to see where it could be missing from. “Are you sure?”

“Blink concert, summer 2005,” I stated, but he still didn’t seem to remember. “You dragged me out super early because you wanted to get good places and nobody else was able to go so early. We had to stand out in the sun for hours. I was dying and starting to get a sunburn, so you gave me your hat to help save my face. I never gave it back and wore it a lot during first year of college.”

“I remember now,” he grinned and put the hat on my head. “That was the day before I developed a humongous crush on you. My sister asked me about the concert and she planted these thoughts in my head that made me overthink everything.”

“No... really?” I tried thinking back to the weeks afterwards, but couldn’t recall ever thinking that Jack had feelings for me. Usually, I was very good at knowing when guys would crush on me in high school, but I only knew about the brief time Jack had a schoolboy crush on me for a week during freshman year.

“Yeah, but I knew you were crushing on Chris Feltner, and you guys dated for–”

“We dated until first year of college.” I nodded, realising I maybe had been too obsessed with my own feelings to realise how one of my best friend’s was feeling. “I know.”

“Well, suck it Feltner, guess who’s got the girl now!” Jack shouted in triumph before going in for a proper kiss.

I jumped when a flash went off and turned to see a girl with a camera standing in the doorway. She was smiling brightly and gushed, “that’s so cute.”

“You scared me,” I breathed out in shock and held a hand to my heart.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she excused. “I should have asked to take your picture before.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool,” I quickly told her so she wouldn’t feel guilty. “I just didn’t see you there. No, you can take my picture if you like. I believe I actually have an old photo from 2005 of the two of us with me wearing this hat. It’s a nice comparison.”

“Rachel often makes me take pictures of her, you’re all good,” Jack added with a chuckle.

“Like you don’t make me take hundreds of different photos just for you to choose one to send to your mom,” I retorted.

“But I’m not embarrassed about it, I don’t give a shit.”

“I don’t give a shit either.” I winked.

–––––––––––––

Visiting Jack on tour wasn’t nearly as rowdy as most people would expect. They weren’t twenty-one-year-olds enjoying their rising fame by partying twenty-four-seven anymore. Yes, they still liked their fun and their drinks, but it wasn’t over excessive. I managed to avoid alcohol the entire time I was there. Well, except for one night. One dreadful night. Karaoke night.

You see, I didn’t sing. I would never do what Alex did and sing in front of large crowds. Quite simply, I didn’t want to do so and I wasn’t good enough to do it either. But I could hold a note. I was good enough to be one of the few people who didn’t suck at karaoke, but I could never be an actual singer. If I took some serious vocal coaching, I probably could have. But like I said before, I had no desire to do. I liked singing in the shower, that was it.

So, when the guys decided to go out to a karaoke bar, I was dragged into it. We had to be back by 4am to get on the bus and leave to the next venue, but that didn’t mean the guys didn’t want to go out. It was actually relatively late compared to other nights when we had to leave immediately after everything was packed up again.

At this karaoke bar, more than just a few drinks were poured. I managed to stay away from it at first. The first round bought by Alex was beer, which I got out of. My glass was replaced with a glass of coke. I also managed to miss out on the shots of tequila and a round of mixed drinks. While the boys were very understanding when sober (and when I say ‘understanding’, I mean they would eventually give in and let me have my way), they would be less so when the alcohol started flowing.

Jack had bought everybody a round a vodka shots. This time, however there was an extra glass and that glass came in my direction. I refused. I absolutely refused, but Jack just wiggled his eyebrows when took did his own. Even when they started chanting my name and got a few strangers to join in, I still stood my ground. But Jack wouldn’t give up. He was tempting me. At one point, I almost took it, but I stopped myself. It all went well until Jack picked up my shot and poured it into my glass of coke. He winked and convinced me that that one drink wouldn’t hurt over the rest of the night.

But he was wrong. Very wrong.

It must have been around 5am when things went downhill for me. At first, Jack had kept saying ‘I told you so’ when I got no headache and felt fine. But it was so different just an hour or so later. The bus was moving, shaking us lightly. I was pressed up against the wall in Jack’s bunk, Jack taking up most of the space beside me. My head was pounding when I woke up.

“Jack,” I groaned, trying to push him out of the way so I could get some more breathing space. It felt like I had a horse putting all it’s weight on my forehead. “Jack,” I repeated again when he didn’t budge.

“What,” he grumbled back and shifted like half an inch.

That’s when the pain got so bad that it started messing with my stomach. “I’m so nauseous.”

“You okay?” he asked, seemingly a bit more awake than before, but his voice still full of sleep.

Part of me wanted to cuddle up against him and bury my head into his neck to help with the pain, but another part of me wanted him to get as far away from me as possible. “This is your fault.”

“Do you want some painkillers?”

“No,” I told him despite the fact I actually most definitely wanted some, but something else was on my mind first. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Right now?” He was definitely awake now. This was a wakeup call. He started to shuffle out of the bunk.

“I can’t move.” I managed to breathe out while I was trying to keep everything down, clutching my head tightly. I really didn’t want to throw up all over Jack’s bunk. One, it was our sleeping place, and two it would be a bitch to clean up.

“Oh, shit,” he sighed and sat up, not leaving the bunk.

I wasn’t the only one who knew the severity of how bad this was. Last time this happened, I threw up all over Jack’s bedroom floor and passed out from my headache. He was afraid I was going to choke on my own vomit, but that didn’t even come close to happening. That time I had only had some wine with dinner.

“Umm, take this.” He pulled out a plastic bag he had in a small compartment at the end of his bunk. “Just in case.”

Just because I had that plastic bag, did not mean that I was immediately going to throw up. Jack ran his fingers through my hair, both to comfort me and to easily hold it back if needed. I concentrated on breathing so the worst wouldn’t happen. Honestly, I would do anything for it not to get to the point. It wasn’t that the alcohol made me throw up, it was my headache caused by the alcohol that made me nauseous.

“Maybe we should go to the back?” Jack suggested when he realised I was doing my best to stay composed. “You can look outside there, it might help.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth to say anything. This time he did get out of his bunk, opening the curtain and revealing that all the lights were also off in the hallway. I was glad they were, I couldn’t imagine being able to stand light right at that moment. Jack waited for me to slowly crawl out. Just sitting up made my head spin.

“You go already, I’ll grab some water and painkillers.” He reached out to push the button to open the door to the back lounge and went in the opposite direction.

I somehow made it onto one of the couches while keeping my eyes nearly closed and holding tightly onto my head. The movement of sitting down nearly made me vomit, but I managed to stop it from happening. I sat with my legs up, looking out at the highway we were on. It was dark outside except for the occasional streetlight. The pain was so unbearable that tears involuntarily slipped out of my tear ducts.

“Here.” Jack handed me a water bottle and two pills before going back to his bunk and taking his pillow and duvet to the back lounge. He closed the door behind himself so we wouldn’t accidentally wake anybody up, which we surprisingly hadn’t done yet.

“Thanks,” I responded in a very shaky voice and downed some water to chase the painkillers.

Jack pushed another button that made the couch extend horizontally. He grabbed a throw blanket from a cupboard in the room and took it for himself while he gave me the bedding. “We’ll just sleep here tonight. I also brought some melatonin in case you aren’t able to sleep.”

I thanked him yet again and waited for him to lie down beside me. Once he got comfortable, one arm behind his head, I put my head on his chest and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, wrapping and arm around me and trailing his fingers over my side. “I promise to never put alcohol in your drink again. If anything, I’ll keep you away from it.”

“I love you,” I whispered and accepted his apology. I couldn’t hold a grudge against him.

[ninety-eightpointsix]

My life-long obsession with Waluigi started all the way back in 1992 when I first saw a commercial for Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins. Or at least, that’s when the seeds were planted, when I was first introduced to “the wicked impostor Wario.” To make a long story short, you can’t have Bizarro Mario without Bizarro Luigi, that’s just crazy! In the very next game, Wario was actually the ‘hero’ so it’s not like he was some one-shot villain, he was an actual character joining the Marioverse. The ever growing Waluigi-shaped void became more and more pronounced as Wario joined more spin-off titles, until Nintendo and Camelot finally delivered... eight full years later.

Now, that is an extremely long time for a kid, or for anyone, so I set out to create my own. The most obvious problem was the name, as I could never figure out how to pronounce 7uigi. The closest I got was Sev-en-igi where the ‘u’ is silent or something? I had never thought of flipping the L rather than rotating it and getting Γ (gamma) which is okay because there’d be no way to look something like that up before the internet without talking to someone and having them tell you it looks like a Greek letter. But if that incredibly unlikely scenario had happened, I could have named him Gamma Luigi! Yes, Mama Luigi had obtained meme status in 1991, long before all you posers ‘discovered’ it on YouTube. But anyway, finding nothing but dead ends, I named him ‘Vinnie’ because... it’s an Italian name... that’s it. Also, just like how Wario’s mustache looks like two W’s, Vinnie’s could look like two V’s... just imagine my surprise when this actually became canon! (The mustache design, not the name)

All that was left was the design, and I kinda cheated a little, I basically envisioned him as looking like ‘Bad Cabinet Art Mario’ from DKJr, only recolored. So, essentially, every single OC ever. But I wasn’t trying to be original, I’m trying to fill in the horribly conspicuous gap Nintendo had left us with. I never actually drew him, because one: our local Chuck E. Cheese’s had gone out of business by 1993, if they would of even still had that arcade, and two: it’s not like I was going to bring tracing paper to a restaurant and try to explain what I was doing. But if I had ever drawn traced him, he would have looked something like this, only with the pointed mustache and a Wario nose, and the pointed ears, and those black eyes... or whatever. At this point in time, Nintendo was inconsistently switching between light and dark blue pants and even giving Luigi purple sometimes, that was all going to stop. In my world, the Mario Brothers wore indigo pants, and the Wario Brothers wore purple pants (refer to my Cyan versus Indigo rant), and Waluigi Vinnie’s unique color was cyan. (I’m having some trouble with the recoloring tool, you all know what cyan looks like, right?) In a strange turn of events, this also explains why Wario is the only member of the quartet with white instead of gold buttons... because that one ‘double-chin’ image has white buttons... yeah. This is neither here nor there, but my horribly crappy CRT television at the time Mario Tennis came out actually made Waluigi’s purple look much bluer and I was kinda miffed that his outfit actually turned out to be dark purple instead of blue-purple... they were sooo close.

Basically this post boils down to ‘they stole my idea’ only my idea was not only inevitable, but the actual design was stolen right back from them anyways. So I was happy for several years... until it became apparent that there was never going to be any backstory... like ever. And my mind started wandering, and now that Google was a thing I was able to see all of the inconsistent artwork of early Mario, I eventually came up with a theory... A Game Theory. Like most Game Theories, this one is 100% false and was only a possible origin story for the Wario Brothers, or only possible if you ignore a bunch of things and give too much weight to other things. What if Wario wasn’t just some guy who envied Mario to the point of dressing up like him and mimicking his name and stuff, what if he actually was the original Mario, from the original universe? Based on the one art picture where Mario has a double-chin, which it was only just now, making this gif that I realized I may have mistaken one of his jowls for a chin line. And his brother is the other Mario in Donkey Kong Jr’s opening, which everyone always forgets about. Before Luigi was ‘Green Mario’ he was just another Mario, no unique name, no unique colors; Nintendo doesn’t even count it as a real appearance, instead citing the original Mario Brothers as Luigi’s first appearance.

This was before Mario Galaxy, so there was no reason to have an original universe and a current one yet, but somehow bad cabinet art Mario & Luigi of Earth2 ended up on Earth1. Wario sets SML1&2 in motion, but Luigi2 stays hidden either from depression, or because he simply can’t figure out what to call himself. Maybe he even considers Sev-enu-igi for a time, as a nice little nod to myself. An extra bonus is this could be used to explain the Cranky Kong discrepancy. In the current canon, Mario and Donkey Kong the third are both born on the same day, as well as five other star children. This way adult DK1 and Jr can fight adult BCA-Mario, then grow old, and I don’t know the BCA-Mario Twins get lost in a time warp or something. There’s a lot of bugs to work out if I was ever going to actually do anything with this. But I wanted to get it out there... how my OC ‘became’ Waluigi by complete coincidence, and my strange fixation with mixing DC comics and Nintendo properties. Also there’s something similar to Psycho-Pirate (Roger Hayden) going on with Wario where Post-Crisis it was revealed the the multiverse now only exists in his mind. So, where all this stuff did actually happen, as far as the rest of the universe is concerned, these two unknown people have serious psychotic issues and claim to be the ‘original Mario Brothers from another universe’ and need serious therapy.

Extra also, all the humans on Earth2 have pointed ears for some reason? Elves don’t though, like Link and Zelda, and the cast of Jak & Daxter... they all have rounded ears. And apes don’t... so that explains Cranky... or would it be better to obtain elf ears magically later for some magic reason? Should I even mention my crackship of Waluigi x Pauline? I don’t know, it’s late... or now early... I’ve been ranting for too long. It’s time to queue and fall asleep.

[packbat]

automated sexual harassment

This afternoon, I saw a like on the post I made day before yesterday - the fifth note on the post, and the fifth like - clicked through to the blog, and was confronted with page after page of porn gifs. Mainstream porn gifs, which means white cis patriarchal male gaze porn gifs, if you want to imagine (which I don't recommend) - gifs of porn being marketed to people who don't want to think of the people in those gifs as human.

I blocked the account. I tried to walk away. I found myself sobbing in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes, moving to the couch to sob some more, taking the advice of a friend to take a comforting shower, and then sobbing in that comforting shower for half an hour. I bawled, I wailed, I wept. I cried messy, noisy tears, because I didn't ask for this.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this, I didn't want this, the people in the images didn't ask for this (didn't ask to have their bodies thrown in my face, didn't give permission to whoever stole their likenesses, didn't even get paid a fair wage in the first place, I'll bet), and I can't do anything about it but leave Tumblr completely and never come back. To spend time in the place that taught me more than I can reckon - taught me the very language with which I describe who I am, at least in a gender way - is to be subjected to this again and again, and I can't do anything to change that. I can have stolen copies of exploitative porn thrown in my face by machines that do not care what I feel, or I can leave.

I'm leaving.

We deserve better than this. You deserve better than this, if you are a person, if you are a being capable of opinions and desires. Tumblr has let this go on for years and it's never gotten better and you don't deserve this. Nobody does.

If you follow my blog and want to keep listening to me, you can send me an ask or look for the forthcoming post listing my other active social media accounts. Other than that, there are nine posts in my queue, posts I scheduled because I decided they were worth reblogging every year, and the last of them will go out in October 2019.

And you can reblog this. Or not. If this goes viral, I'll probably never know and it probably won't matter, won't matter except to the people who choose to read it, but those people deserve to know they're not alone and to know they deserve better, so I do hope this goes viral. But I don't expect it to, and you should feel no obligation to reblog it. That's not why I posted it.

I posted it because I deserve better, too - because my friends told me I deserve better, better than crying for an hour, better than wading into muck that makes me sick when I think about it and wading into it over and over - and I posted it because it's true, and a true that deserves to be said.

I'm sorry to go, but this is why I'm going.

Goodbye.

(P.S. There's a difference between mainstream porn and creator-owned porn, indie erotica, people making art that they want to make and getting compensated in ways they chose. Trust me. At most, the latter leaves me baffled that people use their NSFW blogs to listen to me blather about webcomics; the former ... well, scroll up, I just talked about it.)

(P.P.S. that post I mentioned at the beginning? The fourth like was from a mainstream porn spam blog, too.)

[ronnielmao]

Uhhhhhh oki time to do

1. Why did you choose your url?

I stole it from my ex' twitter handle (the lmao part) because Ronnie was taken.

2. Any side blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

No.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

Probably about a year now.

4. Do you have a Queue tag?

I tend not to queue stuff, I don't see a reason to.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I'm not exactly sure, but I think I started it to annoy someone and got hooked.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I needed a new pfp but couldn't decide, so I chose my sheep oc. It looked funny enough.

7. Why did you choose your header?

What's a header?

If you mean the image at the back of our pfps, I randomly chose it.

8. What's your post with the most notes?

I'm not sure. I haven't posted anything myself. Probably about 4.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

I'd say around 6.

10. How many followers do you have?

89.

11. How many people do you follow?

274.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

On tumblr? No.

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

I'm not exactly sure. Sometimes I'll open and close it, and then open it again. Othertimes I'll use it to fetch something. It varies.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

No. I don't comment often or add anything. If I did I'd try to avoid conflict.

15. How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts?

They make me super anxious, it really gets on my nerves. I feel like I'm not doing something right when I don't reblog and I'm being judged for not reblogging.

16. Do you like tag games?

They can be fun, I just get super scared sometimes.

17. Do you like ask games?

Refer above.

18. Which one of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

Probably Green Sky.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No.

20. Tags!

@green-like-the-sky, @vrgssmncht, @autistictanjiro, @wackos-everywhere, @hosttos

(You don't have to do this, only if you want.)

Thank you @daisychain-unchained this is lovely! I loved reading your answers because I'm a nosy bitch 👀😆 Information filed.

1. Why did you choose your url?

I was listening to that song Soily by Wings a lot so when it came time to choose a url I just grabbed from that. I loved the image. A cat wearing satin trousers is classy af. It also makes no sense in the song at all, a proper Paul lyric.

2. Any side blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

No side blogs yet but I've thought about making a blog to encapsulate my other interests

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

This blog is only about 4 months old but I had one in middle/high school called jopageri-lemchast or something of the like which may or may not be deactivated. So, a while... intermittently...

4. Do you have a queue tag?

What's that? I don't really queue.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

My deep love for the Beatles remerged after being dormant for a while and I needed somewhere to channel that energy and unabashedly overload my brain with it

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I change it all the time but Pattie's got a hold on me and the look she's giving in this pic is everything

7. Why did you choose your header?

I change this quite often as well but Bahama Beatles are peak beauty so why not take the opportunity to appreciate that?

8. What's your post with the most notes?

This Mclennon staring contest with quote from Paul about their trips together lol

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Hmm a good many. I usually check out the blogs that follow me and some moots I recognize more than others ofc

10. How many followers do you have?

337

11. How many people do you follow?

Omg only 172 😬

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

probably

13. How often do you use tumblr each day?

Depends but at least an hour each day sometimes much more yikessss. That being said, its my only social media apart from watching countless YouTube videos.

14. Did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

No I try to be lowkey but I did accidentally get indirectly involved in other people's drama oooopsss leave me outta that shit

15. How do you feel about "you need to reblog this" posts?

If any post tries to guilt me into reblogging, I won't. And I don't want my followers to feel obligated to reblog them either.

16. Do you like tag games?

Adore them. Tag me in anything.

17. Do you like ask games?

Adore them. Ask me anything.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

a few but if I point them out they will notice me

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

a small one perhaps, but again, not telling ;)

20. Tags!

Hiiiii :) @spaceharrison, @shesaidshesaid, @monkberrymoon-delight, @rowan-fool-on-a-hill, @asgoo, @just-razqew, @young-master-is-lost, @maccamaniac