Oh, Hi!

im just havin fun, awesome fun bath reality , normal tomorrow or maybe not BYE

>got a hunt within the first 60 ish seconds of walking into the house and got turbo killed.

> "Welp at least I'm going to get that achievement for getting killed by a demon within 60 seconds of entering a location, that's fun at least. even if this is a bummer, I can even still get a lil cash by guessing demon! let me circle that real quick"

Demons are the only ghosts than can hunt as soon as you enter the building* But the chances of them hunting before the first 60 seconds is up is Extremely low. the guestimate in the community is that only 1 in 20 demons will hunt within that time frame

A mimic can pretend to be any other ghost in the game, and even gives you fake evidence that rules it out, bc the developers are mean.

There is roughly a 1 in 24 chance of a house containing a mimic, that mimic then has a 1 in 23 chance of pretending to be a demo. (Which Ghost Its Is Pretending To Be Changes Every 30s-2m.) Assuming it was already a demon when I walked in, that meant it was a 1/24 chance of mimic, 1/23 chance of it being a demon, and then a ~1/20 of the mimic managing to use the demons ability that early.

"hell yeah I got the ghost right! But where's the achievement pop up?"

the city of los angeles

the city of new york

sex

how drinking alcohol works

how getting high works

how a child of any age speaks

how nuclear physics work

how [my job] works

how debilitating being shot in the shoulder is

how hypothermia works

things I have never before seen someone fake their way through writing about, until today:

SHRIMP COCKTAIL:

banahbanah: #flashback to that one fic where Peter Parker frets about drinking shrimp cocktail because of the alcohol

generaldeliciousness: adding: what a prawn/shrimp cocktail is

#why is your character turning it down because they're under 21 #do you think prawn cocktail is a cocktail #this lives in my brain rent-free constantly #the rest of the fic was so normal #and good enough that i'll still re-read it #but bro

And then many, MANY, people wondering if this was actually authour mistake, since Peter really would do this!

POMEGRANATES:

zhajhassa: #haha where's that post that was like someone describing someone eating a pomegranate but they ate it like an apple

thornhands: #once someone wrote persephone biting into a whole Pomegranate #had to stop and stare at a wall for a minute

sungsingsanguine: I once saw someone very confidently write about a character eating slices of pomegranate.

FRUIT TREES:

zagreuses-toast: #given a very endearing glimpse into a writers blindspots by seeing them describe someone sitting under a ''pineapple tree''

salatrash: I remember something about picking watermelons... OF A FUCKING TREE

baander: #cranberry trees

DOUGH/BATTER:

maycelium: #I'm a chef so I'm really used to people not accurately describing how to cook food #But I was surprisingly flabbergasted when someone was writing making a cake and was kneading it. Which uh #Not necessary for cake. It was interesting for sure but just bizarre

livebloggingmydescentintomadness: #the one that drove me nuts was when a character set aside a batch of PASTA DOUGH 'to rise' #pasta doesn't have yeast!! #it does need to REST but it will never RISE #you do not want an airy crumb on your noodles

lovesodeepandwideandwell: #THE ONE WHERE THEY MADE COOKIES BY LADLING BATTER INTO A TRAY

Some other topics:

THE VOID updates will be starting on my PATREON ON JUNE 6TH.

And your job puts you on this new prototype the company’s developing. And it’s a whole person. A clone, because the company makes everything. She’s calm but alert. Sharp but naïve. She’s company property and starts awaiting your arrival at the premises threshold, chattering when you enter a room with her in it. Her glow casts into your mind and heart. Unexpectedly but welcomely, she’s your friend.

And she’s trapped. It’s not right for her to be here. If her product development completes, she’s hitting the bulk printer and there will be no way to save every copy of her. Or alternately, she’ll die in this building, alone. Something must be possible. Something you and your coworker can do.

And you do. You plan, you rehearse, you swallow your nerves, and it works. She’s free, assumed destroyed. The project is cancelled until further notice. She might actually be free. She’s exhausted and shaking, but she’s home.

Your coworker has a humble unit in a utilitarian apartment complex. It’s big enough for the three of you. The clone’s health is uncertain so you move in to keep an eye on her. Having roommates after years and years of solitude is unfamiliar but exciting. Everyone seems to be new to it in different ways. The clone’s health jitters in and out of bedbinding fatigue but days get better. You get to chatter to your coworker in the evening and he’s even more relaxed when he’s in company that seems to respect him. You smell delicious food in the kitchen. So that’s how he makes what he’s been bringing to work for years now. Conversations stretch for hours. You see everyone in more comfortable clothes. This is the clone’s first time wearing something she chose entirely by herself. She learns more of her favorite foods. You learn how everyone lives. You could get used to this. You already are.

The clone nestles by your side one night in your collective home. It’s effortless to her, like being close to you is the only sensible thing to do. Her confidence recurs in a day where her eyes linger on you well within your sight, and when she leans her cheek into your shoulder while standing near, and when she reaches for your hand. She’s sweeter than you expect, those watchful eyes learning you like how she observes everything new to her.

You didn’t know you could love her, but the realization was easy. You want her to be safe and happy, like you want your coworker to be too. Your friend who helped you rescue her, who gave his home, his time, and the potential to lose his job out of a principle you both shared but couldn’t risk to act on alone. He tirelessly gives back everything given to him and more, his unimpressed eyes softening from every progressive chance to connect. He’s at both of your beck and call. His body warms you when you sit nearby on the couch. If he falls asleep there, he leans into whichever of you is nearby. He seems to be thriving… but an exterior of tiredness remains. It’s hard to place where it comes from, if it’s different from his first one.

It’s hard to miss in the home that you and the clone have grown close. She rests her head under your chin as the already set sun pulls navy into the horizon. She mentions how sweet and generous the two of you have been. She’s pleased to have met you. And she’s glad you have your friend too. He’s too cute. He is.. hm.. he is..

An unfamiliar feeling. A warmth almost like a crush. Something you both share and bond over. A conversation topic. A hushed and tentative one. She kisses you. She wishes your friend would kiss you too.

Maybe it’s possible. It would be nice. It could be nice. Nothing is certain. The clone agrees. Her joy is as simple as yours, but she is more willing to seize more fleeting forms of it.

You’ve just scaled the stairs from taking out the trash one afternoon. You see into the kitchen. She smiles at him plainly with her head lowered and tilted toward his dumbfounded expression. His body is vulnerably still from shock. It looks like the clone broke the ice. You approach his other side, assure him it’s unusual and he doesn’t need to agree. They would have told him sooner if they’d known how. As if there was any way they could know how.

He nods his head. He quietly okays. His body moves like a lightstarved flower, quietness punctuated by a strange expression. He looks broken open, wondering if he’s seeing right. He helps around the house in the usual way. His hands move like he’s distracted but wants to do a good job.

The clone offers like a comet for him to cuddle for the night. You swoop in and remind him he can say no. He accepts. He accepts with his entire body. He weeps. He didn’t think anyone could love him this way. Let alone two.