#$ki mask the slump god

[astarab1aze]

“every morning i wake up and pick you. despite the times you drive me up a wall, say something that just irritates me, despite the times you frustrate me with the difficult parts of your personality… i wake up and i pick you over and over again, and there’s no force on this planet that could change that. my soul will always know yours and it will always, always find you.” (Their song started playing in the chikfila line and…)

This- stopped him up short, hands faltering on mortar and pestle, half-heartedly grinding his own flesh into dust. He was busy, preparing the ingrediants for his tungskin draughts while he still had the time, mind working through the many facets of steadily granulating obsidian, streaks of ember a constant reminder that there was more he could do with the scabs of his body - more tools, more fools to sell them to, an expansion of his bottomline. More to leave her should anything happen to him. Adding something as volatile as his own flesh to the right compounds and alkali could yield a powerful, almost entirely organic explosive, evidence of which being the already explosive nature to the composition of his meat post-discharge, something about ionization and friction, physics bullshit that was easier observed than described. Had more to do with magic anyway, and the laws of physics are more than what they appear to be.

Nevertheless, he was focused, in and out of thought, half-listening, half-ignoring, smoothing his chars into dust, tapping the mortar against the pestle. Dust flew everywhere, a flurry now to stain his robe. In truth, he couldn't breathe, holding it until his chest felt like it was going to cave in, faking his way through carefully pouring the fruits of his labor into a small jar, gently brushing it out with his fingers, careful not to spill any. Sometimes, it was just easier not to talk about things. Reaching for an unused jar nestled on the shelf above, he opted to separate out just enough to experiment with later, explore the possibilities of an explosive that would meet his specifications - a perfectionist. Easier, to keep his attention on the movement of his hands rather than the violent beat of his heart. Was there a problem before? Did he need the assurance? He didn't want to think. He left both jars open, allowing his powdered flesh to oxidize for a few minutes; In the meantime, tried to keep himself busy, flicking his wrist and calling forth a spool of masking tape and a permanent marker - oone of his desk drawers slamming open and closed, the two items almost yanked to him with unseen thread.

Yet, for as stubborn as he was, he was still only a man, and he was far softer at heart that anyone in their right mind would've given him credit for. She could've told him a thousand times before, a thousand after, and it would still come as a shock to him - how could anyone choose him? He wanted to smile and laugh it off, ditto his way through it, but as he scribbled the date down on the strip of tape, labeling the one jar for explosives, his shoulders slumped and he breathed at last.

Her hands came upon him then, arms easing around his middle as if to reaffirm her prior assurances, holding him to underscore the meaning in her words. He felt nervous, hot, gripping onto the marker for dear life, all the while doing his damnedest to pretend he couldn't have been so effected again. It just- always threw him for a loop, made him at useful as tits on a fucking turtle, buttery soft and pathetic. And guilty - because he didn't know how to say it back, as if speaking it out loud would invoke Fate's wrath. He may never have been superstitious, nor really cared for the gods et al, but better to be safe than sorry this time. Speaking something into existence meant that it could, eventually, be taken away. And he loved her so, more than words could really describe, even if how he behaved a lot of the time may not have helped to make that clear. Always touching her, groping at her, kissing and biting and pawing, strangling the meaning in his actions because he couldn't find the right words to say. He'd fumble and slur them together anyway, would she be able to take him seriously in the first place...?

He was just a slut. A regular manwhore. Complete with the stereotypical disposition, caricaturizing himself into the titular 90's movie role as effectively Stiffler on a good day. Or the dirty linecook who slings coke and smokes in his car and fucks real good. He was that guy. Why was he so self-conscious? Dissecting himself like this? A wizardly shapeshifter of his stature should be well put together by now, much more careful with his emotions, the truth of himself. But how could he not shakily press the masking tape into the lid of the jar, furrow his brow, and relent?

"Where's 'is comin' from, princesa?" he asked lowly, his mouth going dry. "Not tha' I don' appreciate it... 'm jus confused. Ya don' gotta worry 'bout lil ol' me." Generic, canned fucking answer, a deflection meant to calm his nerves, persuade her not to gush too much or- But he'd have done anything for this. He'd have done anything to be loved, to be held and kissed and told he was important after all, not a lost cause but- something, to someone, to her. She only held him tighter anyway.

It was...comforting to know, that she was choosing him. Out loud. Stupid, but- Maybe he was looking for excuses not to be honest, too worried about the potentialities that were always potentialities and would have been with or without the words for it. He loved her, he waited many, many years to be with her, did everything in his power to remain at her side through even the worst of circumstances from Leanne to Deadeye; Yet, he still felt so unworthy, filthy and soaked in blood, the reality of all he'd done tainting his soul at its core. He was ugly, everywhere it counted, self-reflection abandoned in favor of blind ambition. Of all the gods, he still hung onto his mortality, far more, for argument's sake, human than the rest of them, and even more flawed. There were uglier, crueller, fouler, gods than he, but even so, how could she be so sure that he was everything she wanted? What and who she wanted in every life, unto eternity? He was, he knew that... She was the one for him, but was he really the one for her?

He wanted to believe it, he wanted to believe her- Could he?

His head tipped to the side, blond hair falling into his eyes, the release of his glamours revealing large ears and the poof of a long tail, red markings, and all the rest he struggled to show her any other day, paired shifts rippling and fading with time. Narrower, thinner frame, physical honesty to underline what he would soon attempt to say. Her amrs tightened around him, near to squeezing the life out of him, and he wanted to smile, he wanted to run, bury his head in the sand and pretend he wasn't terrified she'd be taken from him someday, that she'd change her mind- He wanted to deny her. He wanted to tell her every loving thought he ever had about her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted-- He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead to wipe away a bit of sweat, combing his back with his fingers, sticking up in odd directions.

He palmed at her arms then, gently prying them from his waist if only so he could turn around and hold her in turn. Tightly. Body moving before he could properly think about what he was doing. And he melted into her, so rigid at first and then- leaning into her, burying his face in her hair, gripping onto her for dear life at the same time. She was everything to him. Did she know that?

"I-" he started, tighter still. "I don' know wha' t' tell ya half th' time. Words ain't m' thing, ne'er been a poet or soft wit any words. Cuttin' wit m' tongue's all 'm used t'." He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. "But...I love you, ya know? Y'were mine th' second I first laid eyes on ya. I knew it was gonna be you, had t' be. No one else'd do f' me. Wha's th' point iffin it ain't you?" He sounded like an idiot. "I chose ya then, I ain't wan' anybody else. Tha's jus- how it is. S'far as 'm concerned, yer m' mate, an' tha's- how it's s'posed t' be." He nodded anyway, lips sucked to his teeth, holding her yet tighter. "'m not good a' th' whole words thing, buh- I do, I do."

[sunny6677]

Lavender.

Summary:

Skid goes about his daily life in the care of his adoptive father, Kevin—though of course as always with him, shenanigans ensue.

Chapter 13: Deadly Smiles - Part 5.

————

"Agh!"

Kevin gasped out as he slammed open the door to the back, the cold breeze blowing against his face. With a sharp throw, and resisting the urge to collapse right then and there from the pain in his leg, he lifted his hands and threw the bucket foward onto the hard floor.

He took a few steps back, breathing heavily—and firmly gripping the doorknob, he slammed the door shut.

He gasped out, inhaling and exhaling. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he stood with his shoulders slumped. What was that thing? Why—why on earth was it even alive? If.. if it was alive, did that mean the kid could have possibly been harmed in any way without him knowing?

He shakily turned around, letting his hand press against the wall as he guided himself back to the door that led into the main area of the store. If the doll was alive, he wasn't letting the kid take it back—that's for sure. He didn't know how he was gonna make him not question why, and he didn't know how he'd even get rid of it without anyone knowing, but he definitely knew it probably wasn't right for the kid to have it now.

What was he going to tell the kids friend, who had so happily been sharing the doll? A sigh escaped his mouth as he finally made his way toward the door, shakily grabbing the doorknob, and opening it. It let out a small creak.

He entered the room with a step—the conditioned air enveloping his flushed body. He breathed, and breathed, before letting out a groan. Kevin leaned against the door, and sunk.

God.. why did nothing ever get better around here?

Yet as he exhaled, and inhaled, he heard the familiar sound of something ringing. The sound of the door at the bell, which usually meant that someone had entered.

He looked up, and widened his eyes slightly. There, walking in as he stared, were the sight of two familiar figures. A child in a skeleton costume—clothed with a warm sweater and ear-muffs. And a child in a pumpkin costume with a sweater and a comfy hat atop his mask.

The kids.

Kevin's mouth hung slightly open as he looked upon the kid who he had been looking after. And then at the child in the pumpkin costume.

"Hi, Kevin!" They both spoke, but their voices quickly faltered. Their eyes lowered to his leg, and they both seemingly noticed the red spot on his knee.

"Oh—uh.. what happened to you?" The kids friend asked.

The two kids waddled up to him as he tried to speak, but could barely muster a few words.

"..I.. kids—what are you doing here?" Kevin shakily replied, "You're not supposed to.."

His voice trailed off. The kid in the pumpkin costume wondered off to a corner, while the kid he had been looking after wondered over to his side, a worried expression behind his mask.

After a few seconds, the kid in the pumpkin costume wondered back over, something pink and bright in his hands. Something small, and..

It was a candy bandaid.

The kid picked the bandaid, and bending over slightly, he plastered the bandaid over the cut in Kevin's knee.

Kevin stared, and a slight smile began to curl on his lips. "..oh. Uh.. thanks, dude." His voice slightly softened as he looked upon them.

"No problem, Kevin!" The kids friend replied with a grin.

"Uh.. listen—Kevin. We need your help? We kinda went out, and.. and we lost our doll.." The kids voice began to soften as he shuffled his feet nervously, fumbling with his hands.

He.. had went out again? Kevin felt something in his chest begin to harden, and his lips curled into a minor frown. "You.. went out again? Ki—Kid, what did I say about going out when I'm not with you? Did Susie go with you at least?"

"Uh.. no." The kid awkwardly replied.

Kevin paused, and let out a sigh. "Well, I.. I know where it is, kids. But—" He thought for a moment, and swallowed. "I'll.. go ahead and get it for you."

————

Kevin had left the kids to wait in the back—telling them not to move or talk to weird people if any weird people came to pass by. He had wondered to the back, slightly wincing from the pain that was still in his leg. And with a hesitant lift of his hand, he slowly opened the door to the back. He felt the cold air greet his face again, and he glanced around.

He looked. It wasn't where he had thrown it anymore. So where could it have gone?

Though.. he didn't have to wonder for long. For right then in a corner, he saw it.

It was standing—wiggling its fingers at something he couldn't see. It was something dark and.. fuzzy looking slightly shuddering before it. He swallowed. Wondering behind slowly, he began to walk—gripping the bag he had grabbed in his hands. He wondered, and wondered closer still.

He heard something sharp and high pitched. The doll was laughing, for some reason. He swallowed down his fear again, and began to lift his hand as he finally wondered lose to it.

With a huff, he lifted his hands higher, and—

"Urgh!"

He grunted. He threw the bags opening over the dolls head, and forcefully scooping the bag back up. The doll fell in quickly with a thud. But it was moving around like crazy. The bag swung back and forth as he heard it's muffled sounds from within the bag. He had to do something, otherwise, the kids would know. He had to!

With a snarl, he swung the bag to the side, and smacked it harshly against the wall—creating the sound of a bang.

The noises became quiet, and the bag stopped moving. He breathed heavily. As the silence remained, it became clear he had knocked it out. Good.

He gave a sigh. Lifting the bag over his shoulder, he limped back over to the door—stepping onto the stairs, and gripping the doorknob in his free hand—he opened it back up and stepped inside.

Once he slammed the door shut again, there was silence.

..a child with brown hair then walked in with two others following behind him. The child looked around curiously, his brow raised. "..what was that..?" His scrawny voice asked.

"Uh.. I dunno." The child with blonde hair who had been following behind replied. "..maybe somethings back here?"

"..what do you think it is?" The child with black hair asked.

"Mm.. I dunno. It's probably nothing." The brown haired child shrugged. "Let's just chill back here. That weird candy guy won't ever know we're back here anyway."

————

Skid tapped his foot against the porcelain floor as minutes passed, and began to worry. Just what was Kevin doing out there? Could he not find the doll or something?

Yet.. as if on cue to his thoughts right then, the door opened, and he glanced in its direction as Pump looked the same way.

Kevin's head slowly peeked out, and he wondered back into the area with a sigh.

"Oh, Kevin!" Skid exclaimed. And then arched a brow. There was a weird bag over Kevin's shoulder. "Uh.. what's that?"

Kevin hesitated. "..uh.. its nothing. Just some candy." He paused, "I.. wasn't able to find the doll though. It wasn't there anymore when I looked."

"What?!" Skid yelped, worried. He paused, and then he slumped his head.

"..awww.." Both he and Pump said in unison.

Kevin's expression softened, and he frowned. "Hey—kids. Don't worry. I'm sure we'll.. find him somewhere." He thought for a moment, humming. "Uh—hey, kid?" He said, looking in Pump's direction, "You wanna come over to our house? I'll let your grandpa you're staying over there so he can come get you later."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" Pump grinned, shaking his fists. A smile began to enter Skid's lips again from the sheer amount of contagious happiness.

"Alright," Kevin said with a faint smile, "..well.. just wait here, and I'll get my stuff ready. I'm kind of about to leave my shift anyway."

Skid and Pump nodded, and then turned to eachother with a grin as they cheered in unison.

"Heheheh! We're gonna play together!" Pump beamed.

"Hahaha—I can't wait—" Skid cheered as he jumped up and down.

Kevin smiled at their happiness—though his lips slowly curled into a frown again as he wondered over to the counter, and placed the bag onto it. He slowly let his hand wonder to the phone in his pocket. And once he grabbed a hold of the phone, he turned it on, and went to the calling app where he had the contact of Mr. Wonder.

[neverleaveulonely]

love them. 🖤

…COCAINE FOR MY BREAKFAST

[kobecold]

XXXTENTACION - RIP Roach (Audio) (feat. $ki Mask The Slump God)

[makeouthillegm]

xxxtentacion feat. $ki Mask "The Slump God" - R.I.P ROACH "EAST SIDE SOULJA" (Prod. Stain) - SoundCloud

Listen to xxxtentacion feat. $ki Mask "The Slump God" - R.I.P ROACH "EAST SIDE SOULJA" (Prod. Stain) by XXXTENTACION on #SoundCloud

[sammy9links]

XXXTENTACION - RIP Roach ft. $ki Mask The Slump God

XXXTENTACION – RIP Roach ft. $ki Mask The Slump God

Download XXXTENTACION ft. $ki Mask The Slump God – RIP Roach MP3 DOWNLOAD Veteran Singer, XXXTENTACION ft. $ki Mask The Slump God has released new hip-hop joint, “RIP Roach“. XXXTENTACION ft. $ki Mask The Slump God latest entry, “RIP Roach” is a mid-tempo record that received a million of streams across platforms. However, the song is here to get you entertained. Listen & Download RIP Roach Mp3…

[6i]

[poppapeasy]

he's a great kid.

[h8mile]

members only.

[ashamone]

$ki Mask The Slump God at @complexmagazine con | 110417 | https://www.instagram.com/ashamone/

[gltzgghln]

Undertale (2015)

[mosthxgh]

Stokley