#it’s more like “crack occasionally treated seriously solely because it’s funny”

[the-great-horse-cocktail]

one of my friends asked me to write a fic abt him, so here I go

Contains: YouTuber Linus Tech Tips; A Highly requested God of War reference; Tentacles (non-sexual); Brief Explicit Reference to an iPad (but imo not enough to bar it from gen fic status)

@dildoboi69420 this one’s for you

Madness had always seemed such a slow thing to you. Like a parasite that festered under your skin, chewing at your nerves until all you could feel was a jumbled up stew of your worst emotions, set to a low simmer for 3 hours. You hadn’t expected to go so quick—for all your nerves to snap at once and send you down. Yet there you were.

It had seemed so simple. All you’d needed to do was jailbreak your new iPad, and you’d be free to fidget with the iOS to your little goblin heart’s content. And being the alpha sigma gigachad programmer that you were, you’d thought it would be easy. It was only two hours, three hormonal enhancers, and one new mental illness later that you realized the extent of your hubris.

They say that when you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up. What they had neglected to tell you was how. Were you expected to scale your way to salvation with nothing but your own shriveled up bean brain to aid you? No, there was no escaping it. You would either finish what you’d started, or you would die, here, devoid of courage, bitches, and a shiny iOS to play with. But how? How did you expect to succeed where greater men had failed? You would need more: more than your wits, your guts, your coccyx. More than any man could muster. A simple hero would not do—you needed a god.

And so, in the face of a task too great for Heracles himself, you spat and cried out “Bye Felicia!” before promptly partaking in the time-honored tradition of paying someone else do it for you. Although in this case, you’d be using a more unconventional currency.

“LINUUUSSSSSS TECH TIPS, YOU BEAUTIFUL WAIF OF A MAN, PRETTY PLEASE JAILBREAK MY IPAD, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOUURS!”

As soon as you had spoken, you began to hear royalty-free music playing in the distance. You didn’t dare move, didn’t even breathe, afraid that the smallest motion would undo the ritual. The music grew louder, its corporate approved beat quickening to the tempo of your pulse. Faster and faster until it seemed like the air was about to burst. Then, in a professionally edited transition, he appeared. He had a look that could only be described as gentrifier elf core: grey sweats, small, silver earrings, and brown hair no doubt tousled with product that cost more than your phone, giving him a ‘just got out of bed look.’ [Which, in all fairness, was a pretty effective way of convincing people you slept.] In middle school, he had definitely told people that his father worked at Epic Games, or whatever the Millennial equivalent of that was. Oh, and there were like ten tentacles sticking cut of his back.

You fell to your knees, awe-struck by his godly aura and twinkish beauty. “Mr. Tech Tips, I’m honored—truly honored—to be in the presence of such a—”

“Hey kid, that’s really nice and all, but I’m on a schedule. You’re lucky I was able to swing this. You got the iPad?”

You managed a shaky nod, and handed it off to him. As soon as he touched it, he began to glow. Molten gold ran through his veins, so bright it might’ve blinded you, had you not possessed the superior eyesight of a Gamer. When the light reached his eyes, his feet left the ground, tentacles waving every which way. The iPad took on his hue. He cried ichor. And so it was done.

“Now try it,” Linus said, handing you the iPad. It was warm, like a freshly baked brownie that had been sitting out for a bit. You opened it and nearly gasped. There was the iOS, laid out before you, naked. Vulnerable. Yours to deflower.

You let out a “thank you,” voice cracking as tears land on the grooves of your already-cracked screen. “I never thought that I would—this is. . . Wow. I can’t believe—”

“Okay,” Linus interrupted. “Now that your life is mine and all that, I’ve got something for you do.”

You nodded vigorously, your skull shaking like a maraca. “Anything, my king.”

“I need you to kill Neal Mohan in my name and make me the supreme god king of YouTube forever.”

The end. Like for Part 2

[gl0rb]

@ghostscreamss​ gave me the thumbs up to annoy everyone with ocs so if i never shut up after this you all can blame him. (i’m joking go give him some love he’s super cool)

buuutttt here’s my babies. i have a few more i still need to draw but all these sweeties are in RiverClan in an AU i’ve been thinking about.

Thornstar is the leader and a piece of shit (kinda, he’s sorta nice). He has a flippant attitude and a reputation among other clans for being self-centered, smug, and manipulative. Among his clan, however, he’s well respected and many young cats look up to him because of how the clan is thriving under his leadership. He always puts RiverClan before any other clan, and is not hesitant to screw over another clan if RiverClan will benefit. Many cats were surprised when he stole an important piece of land from WindClan’s territory because he’s half WindClan himself (which is where he gets his tall and thin body type). His mother was a RiverClan cat who had kits with a tom from WindClan, and Thornstar spent much of his youth feeling isolated from RiverClan as many cats saw him as an outsider. When he became a Warrior, however, he began to promote his ideas about putting RiverClan first and he quickly became popular among his peers. He was promoted to deputy as a young cat, and then became a beloved leader in his clan and loathed by outsiders. 

Spottedflame is RiverClan’s deputy. She’s still a fairly young warrior and somewhat of a wildcard in terms of personality and behavior, so many cats were surprised when Thornstar picked her for the position. Although she’s not nearly as loathed as Thornstar, she still doesn’t have an excellent reputation among cats from other clans. Like her leader, she’s outwardly flippant and occasionally rude. She doesn’t take much seriously and often likes to crack jokes, however inappropriate they are (the other deputies at gatherings are rarely amused). However, she is well respected in her clan, and like Thornstar, many young cats look up to her. Despite the attitude she puts on in front of other clans, she’s actually known for being quite caring within her clan. She’s good with apprentices and often acts more like a camp counselor. She’s outgoing, charismatic, and funny, but still able to command respect from her clanmates if she needs to.

Graymask is RiverClan’s medicine cat. He’s gentle, quiet, introspective, and proud that he gets to serve his clan as a medicine cat. He was only able to achieve this position after some turbulence in his life. He started out his training as a medicine cat, but a few moons into his training his father died from greencough, which he was unable to cure. He was completely grief-stricken by the event and doubted himself. He continued his training, but moons after he still never healed from the event and felt anxious whenever he was treating cats. His littermate died in his care from injuries and that made Graymask decide that he was incapable of being a medicine cat. Despite encouragement from his mentor to continue, he decided to step down and become a warrior apprentice. He struggled with warrior training but got the hang of it after a few moons, and eventually earned his warrior name. He grew to enjoy being a warrior and always performed his duties, however he could never bring himself to hurt another cat in a battle. When the sole medicine cat of RiverClan died suddenly, Graymask decided to step up as the next medicine cat and help his clan. He felt ready to take on the position after spending moons healing from the events before. He still occasionally doubts himself but is a knowledgeable and respected medicine cat now.

i talked way too much but these are three of my children who i love very much. im not great at character design by any means and the stories and everything behind these cats have more thought than the designs lmao

would anyone be interested in seeing my warriors ocs

[yoichooseno]

Jaytim Fic

Inspired by a post by @awful-aus (awful au #196) (not sure if that blog still exists but oh well)

Jason stopped at the edge of a manicured lawn. The lawn, and the mansion that lay at the other end, belonged to the wealthy Drake family, so it was no surprise that the garden was kept to an absurd degree of perfection. The lawn itself was neatly trimmed and gloriously green. Not a single weed dared to grow here. The edge of the lawn was bordered with a flower garden, separating the green grass from the evenly paved sidewalk. It was like something out of Pleasantville, where everything was uniform and, of course, pleasant. Uncomfortably so.

The whole neighbourhood was a fantastically snobby collection of high class sons and daughters, all of whom were busy raising the next generation of high class sons and daughters. Too busy to notice those outside their comfortable circles. It was nothing like Jason’s neighbourhood.

In Jason’s neighbourhood, lawns were short and gray, meeting broken sidewalks meeting asphalt riddled with potholes. The houses were decrepit, struggling to stand upright, and the people inside were in much the same condition. Many houses were of the cardboard variety and sagged in the rain. Many of the children wore filthy rags, barely holding together long enough to even say the word “clothes” before tearing to expose skin purple with bruises and cold. Life in these neighbourhoods was not considered living.

Every Sunday, Jason walked briskly through the posh neighbourhood. And every Sunday, he stopped at the edge of the Drake’s lawn. He would gaze at the flowers for a short moment, feeling their fragile petals with his calloused fingers, glance to make sure no one was looking, and neatly trim a single flower from the bush before continuing briskly down the street. This Sunday was no different from the last, or the Sunday preceding it. Every day was the same. Wear the same clothes, for there weren’t any others to wear. Eat the same food, for there wasn’t anything else to eat. Move quickly, because loitering here was dangerous. The cops would be called if Jason so much as sneezed the wrong way- the upper class were afraid of people like Jason. People who wore jackets with holes in the elbows, jeans that were too short, and shoes with holes in the soles. People who walked with their hands in their pockets and with cigarette smoke trailing behind them. People who were different.

Every Sunday was the same. On this Sunday, as he had many Sundays before, the Drake heir was waiting, watching from the window seat in a living room hardly anyone ever used. The only exception to the sameness, the muscle memory and the routine, followed Jason’s gentle plucking of a peace lily.

Tim Drake, having watched Jason on enough Sunday mornings to know that he would hurry off soon, leapt from the bench in the window and ran to the front door. Throwing it open, he saw Jason already departing.

“Hey, you! Wait!”

Jason kept walking. Tim wondered if maybe the strange boy, so rugged and alien in this pristine wonderland, hadn’t heard him. He darted to the middle of the lawn.

“You, you in the leather jacket! Stop!”

Jason froze- and then quickened his pace. Tim quickly followed suit.

“Hey, wait a minute! Seriously, mister, what do you think you’re doing stealing my flowers?”

Over his shoulder, Jason called back to Tim in a low voice. “Flower. Singular. Its not like you’re going to miss one lousy flower.”

Gaining on Jason now, Tim threw out a hand to catch the stranger’s shoulder. “Mustn’t be so lousy if you take one every Sunday,” Tim huffed.

Now the boy stopped, and he turned, and he stared. “You’ve seen me? Every Sunday?” He bit down hard on his lip. His lips were cracked and dry. They matched the malnourishment evident in the hallows of his cheeks and his neck. Tim couldn’t see it from afar, but it was heartbreakingly obvious up close.

Tim’s hand fell from his shoulder, resting instead on his hip. “Of course I have. I’m aristocracy- I haven’t anything better to do than watch out the window all day. Even that is more exciting than the social obligations. Now, what are you doing with my flower?”

Jason looked down at the white lily in his hand. “She- It’s… for someone very special to me.”

At these words, Tim’s face lit up. “I’ve got to meet her.”

“Pardon?” Jason physically tottered backward in surprise. “Meet who?”

“Whoever you’re stealing my flowers for,” replied Tim, looking exactly like the excitement-deprived noble he was. “Obviously I have to see if this girl is enough to warrant weekly flower theft.”

Jason could almost laugh. “You’re telling me you want to tag along to meet the person I steal flowers for? Really?” Jason ran his free hand through his hair, smiling to himself in quiet disbelief. “Wow. Aristocrats really are desperate for some fun,” he added in a half whisper.

“Well, are you taking me or not?”

Jason snapped back to the face before him, grinning up in the shade provided by Jason’s tall frame. “Not.”

The grin slipped from Tim’s face. “Why not?” Tim demanded.

“Because,” Jason scowled, tucking the flower into a hidden band inside his jacket. “You’re being ridiculous. As if I would let you come with me. I don’t even know you.”

Tim seemed to consider this for a moment. “Alright. That’s fair. How about this- if you agree to take me to meet her, I’ll take you out for lunch first and we can get to know each other.”

Jason wanted to take the shorter boy by the shoulders and shake him. Could he not see how intrusive and creepy he was being? This was completely inappropriate. There was no way Jason would accept his stupid offer.

And then his tummy rumbled. How long has it been since I’ve eaten? Two, maybe three days since I’ve had a full meal. I think I had a granola bar this morning, thought Jason. As he thought again of the rich boy’s offer, about to shake his head, his stomach released an angry growl. Jason was starving.

“My treat,” Tim added.

Jason sighed. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “Okay.”

Tim beamed, his bright smile lighting up his whole face. “Great. Let’s go. Oh, and by the way, my name is Tim.”

“Jason.”

Tim held out his hand, and Jason shook it firmly. He wouldn’t say so out loud, but Tim was surprised at the rough feel of Jason’s large hand. He couldn’t imagine what kind of work might produce such tough, ugly blisters.

In the car, which Jason insisted he get to drive since he did not want to put that much power in Tim’s hands, Tim babbled away about this and that. Jason wasn’t really paying attention. The hunger pains were intense and he thought he might be sick if he didn’t eat soon. At 19 years old, Jason was pretty well used to the ache of constant hunger. But, like anything else, it occasionally hit with considerably more force than usual. He struggled to focus on the road and the directions Tim was giving.

“Turn right just up there.”

Right. Okay, focus, Jason. Turn right. Use the turn signal, turn the wheel, and pull into the parking lot. Then you can eat. Jason forced his muscles to obey him. He collapsed at the wheel as soon as he put the vehicle in park.

“Woah, man, are you okay?” Tim’s hands fluttered nervously in the air over Jason, unsure of how much he could do without breaking his boundaries. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten? How much water have you had today?”

Jason turned to face Tim, head still resting on the wheel. “Not enough?” Jason guessed. His voice was weak and broken. Tim, who never gone hungry a day in his life for reasons other than punishment, could feel a twinge in his heart as he watched Jason loll around.

“Okay, you stay here. I’m going to go get-”

“If you say help, I will drive this car off a cliff.”

“I was going to say food.”

Jason’s stomached rumbled and he convulsed, clutching at his tummy. He was clearly dehydrated and underfed. Tim pushed open the car door and stepped out, long legs propelling him toward the open doors of the small cafe.

When Tim returned, Jason was upright and holding a forced smile on his rigid face. “I’m fine, see?”

“You’re not. Eat.” Tim pushed a bag toward Jason. He took it from Tim’s fingers, eyeing it with heavy suspicion. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Did you poison this?” Jason sniffed it gingerly.

“What?!”

“It’s an honest question.” The semi permanent defensive scowl returned to Jason’s face.

Tim struggled to hold onto the fact that Jason must have come from some place awful, and tried not to sound offended when he spoke. “No, I did not poison it. I’ll even have the first bite to prove it.” He motioned for the bag and, upon having it passed back, took one of the two muffins from the paper bag and took a bite. Jason watched him the whole time. “See? Not poisoned.” He passed the bag back to Jason.

Tim waited until Jason had finished eating, watched for the return of colour to his cheeks, before he started to ask questions. He made sure that Jason drank at least half a bottle of water, as well.

“So, tell me about yourself. Do you live with your parents?” Where is your home?

“I don’t live at home, no.” I don’t have a home.

“Do you have a job?” Can you afford to eat?

“Yeah, I take tires off of cars.” Illegally and usually in alleys. “And I work part time at an ice cream place.” That I found out about when I was carting drugs from a local dealer to the owner of the shop.

“Can you tell me about the girl?”

Jason hesitated, mulling over the right words in his mind. “Funny. She could make anyone laugh. Hard working. At one point, she was working three jobs. And passionate. Fired up about everything. Once she got ranting, she couldn’t stop if her life depended on it.”

Although Jason become quiet, Tim smiled. There was real, genuine love in Jason’s tone as he described the mystery flower girl. Tim hoped she would describe Jason with the same affection. “I can’t wait to meet her”

“Yeah…”

“So,” Tim carried on, “do you have a motorcycle?” Can you please explain the tattered leather jacket?

“I used to.” I sold it to pay for utilities, and then got kicked out of the house a month later.

This went on for quite some time, and the boys never pulled out of the parking lot. When it seemed appropriate, Tim would offer his own answer to a question so that Jason would not feel trapped in a one sided conversation. When Tim had asked all he could think to ask, he asked one more question.

“Can we go see the girl now?”

Jason, who had actually loosened up considerably, tensed. He shut up like a clam and broke eye contact, refusing to connect again. He only focused on the road, and getting there from the parking lot.

“Is.. That a yes?”

“I think you should go home.”

“Now? Are you kidding? No way. I hate to break it to you, but, unfortunately, I’m now emotionally invested in your well being. And whether you like it or not, I can tell that this girl plays an integral part in your life. I have to meet her.”

Jason turned to Tim with incredulity. And a slight shock of admiration. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Yes.”

Tim’s absolute answer and the accompanying nod of his head made Jason smile. He fought the tug at the corners of his mouth and he lost. This spoiled rich kid wasn’t half bad.

As they drive across town, Tim watched Jason. From this angle, the malnourishment was slightly more conspicuous and the furrow of his brow did nothing to dampen the shining of his blue eyes. His dark, dark hair burned in the afternoon sun, and the corner of his mouth dimpled as he chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. Tim was intrigued by Jason in every way.

“Do you still have the flower?”

Jason let go of the wheel with one hand to pull open his jacket, exposing the flower in its hiding place. It was slightly wilted from sitting in there so long, but the peace lily still screamed of its beauty, its purity.

Tim turned from Jason’s face to the front windshield and started in surprise. Jason was heading for the entrance to the cemetery. At least, Tim thought it might be the cemetery. He had never been before, and from here, he could see only tall iron fences overgrown with vines and green leaves turning over gold edges in the crisp end -of-summer breeze. As they pulled forward, car rumbling over the gravel, Tim could almost make out the roofs of mausoleums. They really were at the cemetery, weren’t they?

A small gasp escaped his lips. “Is this- Jason, are we at the graveyard? I thought we were going to meet the girl!”

“We are.” Jason stopped the car. He turned stoicly to face Tim. “Tim, come meet my mom.”