Fanfic + Sims
Okay, I failed NaNoWriMo.
But! To appease anyone who cares, I wrote the bare beginnings of a Batman fanfic. I haven't really proofread it, so excuse (or point out) any errors.
The Joker keeps to himself mostly. You have made a safe house (not safe house, a safer house, nowhere is completely safe nowadays, but that was always the case, wasn't it) out of your treasured Batcave. Out of its ruined, stinking remains anyway, beneath what is left of Wayne Manor. Your Father's and Mother's house. You have never thought of it as your own, but always as Wayne Manor. Grand sounding, far removed from who you really were. From what you had to become. And isn't it fitting, you are Batman all the time now, you are trapped in your Batcave, and it echos with the far away laughs of the Joker.
You are still not completely sure what happened. They call you the world's greatest detective, but if truth be told, the Riddler could rival you if he was free from his severe obsessive-compulsion. You admit it would not hurt to have another mind working along side yours. But you have no idea where the Riddler could be; if he still alive and in hiding, then he has hidden himself so well that there is little point in attempting to find him. If he is dead, then he is dead. Like most of Gotham, you are sure.
So who is left? You and the Joker. No one else? You do not know.
You had once complied a list of those who could have survived something like this. The list was short. And you were not on it. You are not sure if that was just simple pessimism or realism on your part. In any case, the list was obviously flawed. You grab a scrap of paper now (your giant computer screen is dark and broken behind you, cockroaches crawling in and out of the keyboard) and write down the original list with a nub of graphite. There is J'onn J'onzz at the top. And then Princess Diana. She was not originally part of the list, but after her murder of Maxwell Lord... Well, it seemed obvious. And Doomsday, of course.
The Joker laughs, distant. Echoing.
You had penciled in the Joker, and then crossed him out. And then written him in again. Finally you settled on his name with a question mark next to it. There was no particular reason you thought he would have survived and you not. But the Joker has always been your greatest nemesis, and his omission seemed glaring.
And then the last name. Kal-El.
Superman.
Whatever happened to the Man of Tomorrow?
...
And what would be an update without some Sim pictures!
Pirate! Okay, no. Don't make fun of the handi-capable. His name is Theodoric Judas Or. Mouthful, y/y? Fortune/Knowledge. He's just looking for his thirty pieces of silver.
Hello, Alice Valentine! Two words. Closet dyke. Knowledge/Romance. She likes big boots.
Werewolves, especially, should always remember to brush their teeth twice daily.
A dizzy twister dance.
Isn't he cute? Shut up, I don't care what you think. He is cute. Lincoln Valentine. Alice's younger brother. Family/Pleasure aspiration.
Oh, Roxanne. Ms. Marcus. I knew I shouldn't have let you think you could interior design. But you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right. Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light. Popularity/Knowledge.
Frankenstein's monster! Close. Gus Frankenstein. Something may or may not have gone wrong with his resurrection; his brains may or may not have accidently been switched with grilled cheese sammiches.
Gus's older sister, Eve. Very into tinkering. With vagina. See that phone? WRONG. Phone SEX. Knowledge/Vagina. I mean. Family.
EDIT: I was tired of looking at Eve's boring face, so I gave her a makeover:
He cried, "Mother! What'd you do to me?"
I said, "Mother, mother, mother's for babies. Call me Kitty."
But! To appease anyone who cares, I wrote the bare beginnings of a Batman fanfic. I haven't really proofread it, so excuse (or point out) any errors.
The Joker keeps to himself mostly. You have made a safe house (not safe house, a safer house, nowhere is completely safe nowadays, but that was always the case, wasn't it) out of your treasured Batcave. Out of its ruined, stinking remains anyway, beneath what is left of Wayne Manor. Your Father's and Mother's house. You have never thought of it as your own, but always as Wayne Manor. Grand sounding, far removed from who you really were. From what you had to become. And isn't it fitting, you are Batman all the time now, you are trapped in your Batcave, and it echos with the far away laughs of the Joker.
You are still not completely sure what happened. They call you the world's greatest detective, but if truth be told, the Riddler could rival you if he was free from his severe obsessive-compulsion. You admit it would not hurt to have another mind working along side yours. But you have no idea where the Riddler could be; if he still alive and in hiding, then he has hidden himself so well that there is little point in attempting to find him. If he is dead, then he is dead. Like most of Gotham, you are sure.
So who is left? You and the Joker. No one else? You do not know.
You had once complied a list of those who could have survived something like this. The list was short. And you were not on it. You are not sure if that was just simple pessimism or realism on your part. In any case, the list was obviously flawed. You grab a scrap of paper now (your giant computer screen is dark and broken behind you, cockroaches crawling in and out of the keyboard) and write down the original list with a nub of graphite. There is J'onn J'onzz at the top. And then Princess Diana. She was not originally part of the list, but after her murder of Maxwell Lord... Well, it seemed obvious. And Doomsday, of course.
The Joker laughs, distant. Echoing.
You had penciled in the Joker, and then crossed him out. And then written him in again. Finally you settled on his name with a question mark next to it. There was no particular reason you thought he would have survived and you not. But the Joker has always been your greatest nemesis, and his omission seemed glaring.
And then the last name. Kal-El.
Superman.
Whatever happened to the Man of Tomorrow?
...
And what would be an update without some Sim pictures!
Pirate! Okay, no. Don't make fun of the handi-capable. His name is Theodoric Judas Or. Mouthful, y/y? Fortune/Knowledge. He's just looking for his thirty pieces of silver.
Hello, Alice Valentine! Two words. Closet dyke. Knowledge/Romance. She likes big boots.
Werewolves, especially, should always remember to brush their teeth twice daily.
A dizzy twister dance.
Isn't he cute? Shut up, I don't care what you think. He is cute. Lincoln Valentine. Alice's younger brother. Family/Pleasure aspiration.
Oh, Roxanne. Ms. Marcus. I knew I shouldn't have let you think you could interior design. But you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right. Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light. Popularity/Knowledge.
Frankenstein's monster! Close. Gus Frankenstein. Something may or may not have gone wrong with his resurrection; his brains may or may not have accidently been switched with grilled cheese sammiches.
Gus's older sister, Eve. Very into tinkering. With vagina. See that phone? WRONG. Phone SEX. Knowledge/Vagina. I mean. Family.
EDIT: I was tired of looking at Eve's boring face, so I gave her a makeover:
He cried, "Mother! What'd you do to me?"
I said, "Mother, mother, mother's for babies. Call me Kitty."