@dazatsuweek 2024 day 7 - Free day
(+ technically post-canon, and you won't believe how far forward it goes)
This was such a crazy week AHHH!! I'm so happy I got to participate, and everyone had such cool entries! Can't wait to catch up on them all 💖💖💖
I made an art for this day too, but it's big big spoilers for the fic, so I'll put it under the cut
yes i made a ship kid. they write him into the Book. don't ask me how fanfic ended up that long i literally wrote it solely for myself to read
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this is a weird thought but it's so very clear that the creepypasta "pokemon dead channel" was written by someone who grew up with the game.
pokemon channel is a very gimmicky niche game from 2003, and the story itself was written in 2010, so it's like a solid amount of time for the author to have gone from early childhood to jaded edgy teenager. they've said themselves that they were "young" when they wrote their creepypastas.
and then there's the little detail of their pikachu's name, brvr, which is "short for brother". the narrator jabs at it for being "nonsensical", but it's so authentically something a little kid would do. if it wasn't a name the author themself used as a kid, i bet it is still absolutely from a real experience.
it's the perfect combination of a weird-but-plausible phonetic spelling of a kid just learning to write and something that makes logical sense to a kid brain but isn't obvious to someone older. even adult authors rarely capture that vibe. and i find that fascinating.
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Ah what the hell, have this 400 words of Sundown Kid/Mad Dog baseball!AU that I know I’m never gonna write more of. This is just 400 words leading up to an angry kiss:)
Enjoy!
“When will you play me for all you’ve got?” Mad Dog spits, crowding into Sundown’s space.
Sundown’s heart beats rapidly, the room burns his cheeks and blurs outside of Mad Dog’s cold eyes and furrowed brow.
Sundown reaches out to smooth his thumb between the creases.
“Huh?” A loud and bright song plays muffled outside the door. “Can you really not grace my presence with the best hand in the country? Are you really too good to put yourself down like that?” Mad Dog’s pinned Sundown to the wall now, his eyes burning, his body trembling.
Kinda cute, Sundown thinks to himself. The thought swirls through his mind and admires the gentle curve of Mad Dog’s pouting lip, savoring the sharp cut of his chin.
Real cute every time he storms off the field, every time he flings his bat when Sundown lets him have the ball. When their eyes meet across the field, and even through the small gap, Sundown can feel that piercing glare on him, just begging him to strike him out once.
“It’s nothing like that.” Sundown drawls after a long time of looking Mad Dog up and down.
“Then what the hell is it, Kid? Because I know damn-well it ain’t you protecting your team for the future.”
Sundown’s eyes slip down to the unbuttoned shirt, at those top buttons pulled apart long ago to reveal tempting glimpses of flawless and soft skin, tufts of chest hair creeping towards the top.
“You’re smart,” Sundown smirks.
Mad Dog’s hands grasp at his collar, yanking him even closer to those pink lips.
“Why the hell are you so infuriating?” Mad Dog’s facade is cracking, splitting and threatening to shatter at Sundown’s feet. It’s noticeable in the way he’s not shaking anymore, just boiling with rage that’s starting to spill out of the pot.
Tilting his head, Sundown doesn’t have anything else to add. He’s not looking to spell it out.
“Now you get all silent on me?” Mad Dog’s accent slows and gets thicker with that Texan drawl he was raised with. “Say something, dammit! If I didn’t know any better I’d say you look like you want to kiss me, what with you staring at my lips. My eyes are up here, Kid.”
Sundown can’t help but snort at that.
“And mine are down here.” Sundown watches those lips curl into a snarl.
Then he figures it out.
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