bat vomit

I watched Jacksepticeye play Night In The Woods a few weeks ago and finally got around to drawing my favorite character 

anonymous asked:

Prompt: The first time John realises he's in love

“Oh fuck off!” Paul said. He pushed past George and left the studio, slamming the door behind him.

“Well,” John said after an awkward beat. “That’s settled then.”

Behind them Ringo laughed nervously.

“Do you want me to go get him? He’ll see reason eventually,” George asked.

“Fuck him. No. It’s perfect the way it is. And anyway. He can’t understand it like we can, can he? Let’s do that bit again. The one with ‘when I was a boy…’”

There was a nagging feeling in the back of John’s mind like something caught between your teeth. After leaving the studio he didn’t go home at once. He sat in the car in front of the building, smoking one cigarette after the other. It wasn’t as though they’d never had a fight before. They argued all the time. In fact their arguments often spurred them on to greater things. Not to mention the heights to which arguing pushed them, physically.

After a barney there was a kind of electricity between them, high voltage, and one touch… one touch from Paul, one look would get him off harder and faster than anything else in the world.

His stomach was churning. Not like the fluttering of idiomatic butterflies but the flapping of something far more unsavoury. Pigeons. Bats. He felt like vomiting.

He kept seeing Paul’s face before him: colour staining his cheeks, his lip curled in anger. That irritating tone he got. A sort of fake posh elocution that drove John up the wall and made him want to punch Paul’s stupid face. His stupid, beautiful face. He was so angry at him for walking out on him he was ill. Paul had made him ill.

John felt a pressure on his sinuses, his eyes stung. They hadn’t ever argued to the point where Paul left the studio like that. What if he never returned?

His heart began to beat so fast he felt dizzy. He rolled the window down further and tossed his cigarette out. He couldn’t breathe. What if it was a heart attack? Surely he was too young for a heart attack?

After everything they had been through: angry mobs in Manila, malfunctioning aeroplanes, rainstorms in Australia – he’d survived it all – how was this somehow worse?

All at once he caught sight of a figure striding towards his car. He recognised him at once though he wasn’t certain how, he could barely make out the shape of the man without his glasses.

Paul walked right up to the car and wrenched open the driver’s door. “Get out.  Go home or whatever you do. I’ll do it meself!” Paul said unceremoniously. Then he opened the passenger’s door and got in beside John.

It hit him like an arrow between the eyes: he was in love with Paul.

He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so horrified. At first he thought to himself: it can’t be. It’s too ridiculous. It can’t be.

Paul turned to face him, his knees bumping John’s in a confrontational manner. John wondered why the man had to take up so much space. Did he have to touch him all the bloody time?

“What the hell are you playing at?” Paul exploded, shoving a finger in John’s face angrily.

“Me? What am I playing at? You stormed out like a tart with her knickers in a twist!” John shouted.

It was like a second nature to him, arguing was, so much so that he couldn’t force himself to be polite even in light of his newly discovered feelings.

“Like a… how dare you!” Paul reached over and grabbed John by the shoulders.

“That’s right, Princess. Like a strumpet who just received it up the wrong hole unexpectedly.”

Paul drew back to strike John across the face and he caught his wrist just in time. He smirked at him.

This was foreplay John realised. And it terrified him because though they had fucked countless times, that was before. Before John knew: he was in love with Paul.

He released Paul’s wrist and leaned back against the door of the car, leaving a large gap between them.

“I thought you’d left,” he said seriously.

“I did leave.”

“But you came back.”

“You acted like I was just some… like a dumb straight who wouldn’t know a good song if it hit him square in the… I thought we were a team,” Paul finished awkwardly.

“We are a team,” John murmured.

He could see the muscles twitching in Paul’s face, the glassy cast to his eyes. He wondered if he was going to cry. All at once he regretted being so cruel to him, regretted laughing at his refusal to drop acid, at the prissy way he fussed over his basslines. John wondered if he had been so cruel because somewhere deep inside he’d always known his true feelings. And he’d always known that it was one thing to suck your mate off in the loo at Shea Stadium, quite another to profess your love to him.

“We are a team, Paul. It just… I just did one with George what’s wrong with that?” he said gently.

Paul just shrugged. “You made me feel like… it made me feel redundant.”

And that was a laugh because John often felt like that with Paul. Like he was talentless, struggling to piece together a song over a period of weeks only to have Paul breeze in and announce he’d fucking written their next hit in his fucking sleep.

“You’re the one who just left. You just left me… what was I supposed to think? Maybe I’m the one who… maybe I’m redundant. You don’t even need me anymore. Not like in the beginning.”

Paul was looking at him in astonishment as though he were speaking a foreign language. “How could you think that? How could I ever stop needing you?”

John sucked in his breath and looked away. Of course he meant the music. Perhaps he even meant the physical aspect. But there was no way… no way…

“I’m furious at you, John,” Paul said quietly.

“I know.”

“Come on, come closer. You’re sitting so far away.”

He let Paul grab hold of his lapel. They both looked up automatically, scanning the street for passing cars and pedestrians. Then they slid closer together, their faces tantalisingly near but not touching, their lips centimetres apart. John held his breath. He’d never kissed Paul like this before. Knowing what he knew now.

Paul slipped his hand over John’s thigh slowly.

“What is it about quarrelling?” he whispered.

“What is it?” John asked.

“I would have my way with you right here, if it weren’t for the fact that anyone might catch us at it,” Paul said.

John kissed him then, it felt like kissing Paul and different at the same time. It felt wrong in all the right ways.

“Fuck, lad,” John gasped. “You had better drive me home then. Before you make a mess in me car.”

before i start work on my next commission I wanted to write something small for the fruit vampire thing. smut might come also but for now? fluff

Jack was pretty sure vampires didn’t get sick.

At least, he had never gotten sick. Maybe he was just that badass. Or Rhys was just super wimpy, which he already knew, because the kid was a total fruit, pun absolutely intended.

Still, Rhys could have at least warned Jack that he was starting to feel ill, and maybe Jack wouldn’t have almost crushed him when he flopped over in bed one morning only to nearly roll on top of Rhys’ curled up bat form.

The upset squeaking had jolted Jack out of his sleepy daze, and the vampire had shot up, scowling and rubbing at his eyes as Rhys weakly flailed his wings about, tiny claws grasping against the sheets.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jack growled as the bat wiggled about the sheets like a moron, Rhys’ ears flicking and turning in the direction of Jack’s voice. The vampire furrowed his brow, expecting Rhys to change back into his human form, but the bat just laid there, little chest moving up and down as he let out a pitiful squeak. Jack put his hands on his hips, glaring at Rhys. When the bat didn’t move or try to change back into a human, Jack poked at him, resulting in Rhys lightly grasping at the man’s finger. The vampire couldn’t help but frown as he felt how weak Rhys’ grasp was. His eyes were looking a little filmier than usual, too. Okay, maybe something was actually wrong with Rhys, and he wasn’t just being a lazy hipster weirdo like usual.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy…” Jack growled as he tucked Rhys’ wings around him, the fruit bat blinking contently as Jack scooped him up. Rhys felt a little cold, so Jack got up and found one of Rhys’ discarded beanies, wrapping the fruit bat up in it to warm him back up. Rhys let out a pleased squeak as he was swaddled, and Jack couldn’t help but smile and chuckle softly.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just eating up the fact that ol’ Jack has to take care of a peach sucker like you, huh?” The vampire chuffed as he made his way to the kitchen, setting Rhys down on the counter as the fruit bat idly licked at his wing claw. Jack grimaced as he opened the refrigerator and starting pawing through the stacks of pyrex containers full of various kinds of fruit, as well as several mason jars layered with smoothies. Jack’s own bottles of spare blood—Rhys’ idea, said it was more efficient than hunting every night—were clustered at the bottom, and as hungry as Jack was, if Rhys was already ill, he didn’t want to make it worse by introducing the smell of blood. He didn’t know if bat vomit was a thing, but he didn’t want to risk seeing a puddle of upchucked mango all over the counter.  

Jack grabbed a container of pineapple and banana, shutting the fridge door behind him as he moved back to the counter. Rhys was laying in the same place Jack had left him, but as soon as the vampire popped the top off the container he started to wriggly happily, letting out a series of excited squeaks as Jack presented him with a small piece of pineapple. Despite being weaker than usual, Rhys grasped at the fruit with the wing claws peaking over the top of his beanie, shoving the fruit into his mouth and juice all over his fur. Jack shook his head, gently petting the top of Rhys’ head with one finger as Rhys gobbled down the piece of fruit and let out a soft squeak for more.

“Guess it’s a good thing you still got your appetite.” The vampire commented as he grabbed a piece of banana, knowing the nerd would probably need a bath after smashing fruit all over his muzzle.

❥Pastel Goth is a new, rapidly emerging style and has been dubbed the “dark version” of Fairy Kei.

❥Pastel Goth focuses on chalky washed out hair colors, skeleton / bat prints, strong lip color / gothic make up, studded everything, sheer clothing, flower crowns and plastic princess tiara’s (made famous by the most famous teen blogger Tavi, aka..ROOKIE. INSTAGRAM / TWITTER]

❥This style is a mix of punk and grunge, focusing on more grotesque things such as bats, skeletons, vomit and gore. But in these things, blood is replaced with rainbows, glitter, or made pastel to seem less gross. (photo below)

❥The style has a lot of DIY (Do-it-yourself) things in it. Girls often make their own jewelry, shoes, even clothing.

❥Obviously in this fashion, pastel is a big must, including colors such as light pink, light purple, mint green and pale blue, mixed with black. (photo below)

❥As for clothing, loose sweaters are very common as well as patterned tights. Patterns usually include bats, skeletons or crosses. (photo below)

❥Shoes are usually Creepers or goth boots.

❥Accessories are most commonly long, mid-torso length necklaces with large crosses on the end. (usually pastel and made of plastic and glitter). Hair clips with eyeballs on them are common as well.

❥Pastel hair is another important part of the Pastel Goth look. (but it is not mandatory) The most common colors are pink, purple and occasionally mint green.

❥Another popular trend in the Pastel Goth world is the use of “pastel goth quotes”. They are usually insulting and placed over pastel clouds with runny, gory text. They can use digital text, emoticons and saying to promote themselves / their group of friends as we. (photo below)

❥Pastel Goth stylists are usually heard quoting / blogging about the movie Mean Girls.

Usual disclaimer: Although this may be common, this doesn’t speak for all extroverts. For the Myers Briggs-y folk: dom-Ne aux-Fi here.

Reasons why this happens:

  • I don’t want to encroach my feelings upon others.
  • The above may sound silly but it’s just that I often feel so intensely that I am afraid of coming off as too strong since I am already explosively friendly (let alone how I would even express feelings right off the bat without garbled word vomit).
  • I am afraid of not being received well or in the way that I would like to be received so I just don’t open up as easily. In spite of being outwardly friendly and faithful of the good in others, I totally lack trust.
  • Being around people makes me stop focusing on shitty thing and focus on how others are doing instead. I am re-energized back into full on ~genki-girl~ mode (levels of such may vary depending on just how shitty I feel).
  • Being extroverted is how I cope with things. I get all kinds of emotionally drained when I’m kept to myself for long periods of time.

In the end, as long as my issues aren’t somehow addressed, I’ll still feel kind of shitty by the end of the day and will be kept up in bed at night due to these thoughts and feelings. I still get comments like, “You’re so happy all the time! What’s your secret?” or “Man, where do you get it from? How do you do it?” and it’s just like – aahh, wait, no, I’m having an awful day, I swear… o(-<

Sometimes I think I’m the most bitter happy person around.

But forreal though, this week friggin’ sucked ass and I know this weekend isn’t gonna be any more of a reward. I feel beat, tired, and defeated. When am I going to catch a break?


WOW, I sure am popular around this colorful cesspit you call a website.  I’ve noticed a lot of you have been sending me “instant messages.”  But I’m a busy guy!  Today I’m doing a science experiment to see if sentry-bats that vomit acid are more effective than ones that shoot sonic waves from their eyeballs!  THE ACID PUKE IS A FESTIVE RED AND GREEN!

Anyway, I don’t have time to ~chat~ with any of you right now.  SO JUST GO SIT AROUND YOUR TOTEM TREE AND WORSHIP CAPITALISM.  Later, mortals!

((Honeybee Says:  Bill’s a rude butthead, but I do want to remind everybody that this blog is NOT accepting asks through fanmail or instant message.  And, since Kittycat and I both have jobs and stuff, we, and Bill, can’t chat via the message system either.  Sorry!  The blog is tied to Kittycat’s account and she says she’s been getting a lot of messages lately, either to Bill or to us.  Please don’t do that!  Thanks, much obliged, and happy holidays!))


bring you the :
$4 daily.
THE MOD (eastside 7/11 by laundrymat)
3 DAYS OF SOME OF THE BEST BANDS in the 4-Corners and Southwest.

//OCT.4,2013// 6PM//NIGHT ONE //friday//
715PM//BAT VOMIT//2PIECE GRRRRLL PUNK//parts unknown

//OCT.5,2013//6PM//NIGHT TWO//saturday//
800PM//WE ATE OURSELVES//INDIE//farmington nm
930//MIDNIGHT STEW/STEWGAZE//two grey hills nm
1015PM//LO CASH NINJAS//SKA NINJACORE//navajo nation
11PM//END THIS YEAR//POP PUNK//shiprock nm

//OCT.6,2013//12PM//DAY THREE//sunday//
12PM//BBQ & stuff
145PM//MILES SISTERS//APACHE WAVE//san carlos az
230PM//CHLOE//LO FI ACOUSTIC//ramah nm
430PM//THE BJ’s//INDIE ROCK//navajo nm
630PM.MOODIE BLACK//NOISE RAP//mineapolis minnesota

FESTIVAL T-shirts will also be on sale !!!
all bands encourged to bring merch/demos/ etc..

drug//alcohol free event.