#⠀⠀┈⠀⠀*⠀possum writes.

[netherbored]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀...𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀!

a roleplay portrayal of LAWRENCE BETELGEUSE SHOGGOTH from the beetlejuice musical. broadway ⅋ cartoon coded. based on headcanons haunted by possum. +𝟭𝟴 minors dni! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝙉𝘼𝙑𝙄.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ affiliated with : ♯ etherische, ♯ chaxtic-evil

[holyshiet]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ୧ . . 𝙒𝙀𝙇𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙉!

⠀ ...𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏 𝙈𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝙎𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐! a roleplay portrayal of ADAM THE FIRST MAN from hazbin hotel series semi—parody. based strongly on headcanons. mature themes may arise. also dni if you're easily offended. he's a real dick. 𝙉𝘼𝙑𝙄. ໒꒱‧₊˚

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀he'll be portrayed in 𝟯 verses : ♯ eden!adam ♯ exorcist!adam ♯ sinner!adam

[tothvman]

* roleplay portrayal of DEWEY FINN from the school of rock musical. based on broadway adaptation from 2015. headcanon based. rocked by ♯ possum. semi-selective. crossover friendly. ships with chemistry ﹙ taken @rockhevrted ♥︎ ﹚ +18 minors dni!

[camelidae]

Another character from my book, The Grandest Tales of Clementine – Kickstarter coming in July!

Where there are Noble Paladins and Faithful Steeds there are bound to be fearsome beasts to battle them. And sometimes, as an artist, you just want to take all your favorite parts of animals and smoosh them together. Shad (short for Bringer of Shadows) was the product of just such a smooshing.

All the loveliness of a possum’s snaggly little snoot plus some tusks and some weird horns and claws and lots of fur and some fire thrown in for funsies. Shad is a complicated guy (on the outside and the inside) and maybe he /does/ have a bit of a habit of burning villages to the ground - but I do love him.

And he does his work well! If they gave awards for razing villages (they don’t :c) he would certainly take home first prize.

[self-deprecating-possum]

Fragile Apologies (Yandere! Miguel O’Hara x Gn! Reader)

Content notes: minor spoilers for Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, unhealthy/abusive relationships, verbal & emotional abuse, physical intimidation & violence, minor injuries, implied future imprisonment

Word count: around 4k

Short summary: You thought it would be easy to leave your dying relationship with Miguel. This turned out to be not true.

The sun was setting. It cast a long, orange beam on the wall, and you slowly followed it with your eyes as it advanced, gradually fading.

You purposely didn't look at the clock on the wall, you didn't want to know how much time had passed since Miguel decided to pull you onto his lap, not caring that you were right in the middle of preparing dinner. You were relieved you had not boiled the water in advance. You were not sure if the kitchen would burst into flames by the time your boyfriend lets you go.

Miguel's arms wrapped around you like iron bands. He didn't squeeze tightly enough to cause pain, but even so, you wouldn't have been able to move an inch, no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do for your own comfort was to wrap your legs around his hips and let your hands hang by your sides.

From experience, you knew it wasn't worth begging to be let go, no matter how stiff you were or how important a task you had somewhere else. The easiest way was always to simply wait for him to finish.

Your stomach growled loudly. Maybe… Just this once, he might let you go.

Miguel buried his face in your neck, you felt his hot lips and closed eyes on your skin. Softly, you patted his back with one hand, while attempting to slide the other in the gap between your bodies, hoping he would let you push him away.

He didn't move at all, so you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Miguel” you whispered “Miguel, please, let me go. I'm very hungry.”

Despite trying to move and signal that you wanted to break free, you were ignored. Panic started to set in, but you were trying to overcome it. You grabbed his shoulder to try to push yourself away with full force.

It felt like you were trying to move a concrete wall. He showed no reaction, not even his face moved on the skin of your neck.

"Miguel," you hated how whiny, how sharp your voice was. It sounded annoying even to your own ears. "Please, please, let me go!"

“Enough.”

You immediately stiffened. There was something in his voice that made your throat tighten. You waited for him to say something else, anything, as you lowered your hand to its previous place, but in vain. It seemed like it was enough for him that you didn't protest anymore.

The sun set behind the skyscrapers of Nueva York, and the room plunged into darkness. With a defeated sigh, you rested your chin on his shoulder.

Miguel began tracing playful circles on your back with his thumb, pressing slow, deliberate kisses onto your neck. As if your protest woke him up to the fact that he was holding a living being in his arms. The touch of his skin ignited a flare across yours, and your chest tightened with pain.

If only it had always been like this with him. Or at least sometimes, when you would have been open to him too. He was completely unpredictable, never knowing when he'd acknowledge your existence. From the very start, you knew he wasn't an easy personality, but this was something different. You felt both completely abandoned and overwhelmed at the same time.

You raised a hand to ran your fingers through his hair and felt his hands relax around you. You gently kissed his temple.

Suddenly he tensed, and you stifled a quiet scream. You know he would never hurt you, you told yourself, but you weren't convincing enough. You saw with your own eyes how the iron rods bend under his fingers as if they were made of clay.

You watched every news report on TV and every video that Lyla showed about him. You were well aware of what he was capable of. Even in this moment, he could have snapped your spine at any time, a slightly stronger squeeze would have been enough.

“Okay, that's enough," said Miguel, as if you were the one who didn't want to let him go, not the other way around.

"Hey!"

He pushed you off his lap. You would have fallen if he hadn't caught your arm to hold you. You grabbed onto him to regain your balance while he turned his attention towards his watch.

“Lyla, is there anything new?”

“Yes there is, but I didnt want to disturb you lovebirds. It seems like there’s some new info about Vulture, but nothing imminent. Still no info about his whereabouts.”

Miguel hissed in frustration and then turned his back to you. He started heading towards his own room.

"Didn't you want to make dinner?" he threw back before the door closed behind him.

You just stared after him for a few moments, standing alone in the dark room.

"Asshole," you said to the door. You sounded more tired than angry.

You went back to the kitchen and continued preparing dinner. Your home appliances could have made anything you wanted, probably cheaper (and tastier) than you, but there was a certain comfort in this simple routine that you couldn't let go of. Right now, you needed your hands to be busy as you thought through your situation, likely for the hundredth time in the past few weeks.

You didn't want to live like this. That was the simple truth.

When you first got together, Miguel was different. Not by much, but different. He was still willing to put energy into your relationship. However, since then, there have been more and more threats, work and problems, not to mention the number of Spider-Men he kept track of.

He doesn't have the time or energy for those little things that made you fall in love in the first place. You knew what had happened to him before you met, what happened to his daughter and that other universe. You tried to be understanding, genuinely.

Honestly, if it were only you suffering, maybe you could let go of all this, but it seemed like that Miguel also didn't want this relationship that much. Those tender moments that used to be so common between you, the hugs, the kisses, the intimate touches were increasingly scarce.

No, scarcity is not the right word for it. These moments between you slowly condensed into a single point, first daily, then weekly, lately almost monthly, when you often could do nothing but endure whatever he put you through.

You didn't want to think this way about the person you loved more than anything, but when you looked deep inside yourself, you knew you were starting to fear him. It didn't help much that when he wasn't being controlling, he often just plain ignored you, like he was doing right now.

When it first occurred to you that you should move out, you dismissed the thought. Then again. And again.

And then you didn’t.

It was much easier to find a rental apartment than you thought. Even Lyla helped when you asked her to. She hesitated, but not much, she just said you definitely have to talk to Miguel about it, and you agreed with her. You didn't understand why you haven't brought up the matter to him since then.

Maybe because you knew trying to reason with him wouldn't accomplish anything, as you had asked him many times before to consider your feelings. Maybe because you felt this was a much bigger step than anything you've brought up before. Or maybe it was the guilt you felt over the fact that you were increasingly looking forward to the date when you could finally move out.

This date was tomorrow.

You finished dinner. Two plates of boiled egg sandwiches with salad and a soft drink. Nothing special, you just tried to drag out the preparation as long as possible. You laid everything out on the table and then leaned against the counter. It's been so long since you've eaten together like this. Lately, Miguel ate everything in his own room or wherever he happened to be on a mission.

You took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the counter. You started walking towards Miguel's room to knock. You thought you'd have to beg again, so you were surprised when the door slid open in front of you.

You entered the dimly lit, cold room filled with humming and blinking computers. You didn't like being here. You never knew when you'd see something on one of the screens that you couldn't get out of your head for weeks.

"What is it?" Miguel sounded annoyed, but at least he turned in his chair to look at you. You saw his eyes searching your hand for the plate of dinner you usually set outside his door, as if he were a teenage kid and you a resigned parent. When he realized you were empty-handed, he furrowed his eyebrows. "Is something wrong?"

You cleared your throat. You felt your heart racing, making you feel like an idiot. You had prepared for this moment for so long, yet now you wanted to turn around and flee. But why am I still so scared?

“No, I just want to talk to you. Can you come out a bit? I've set the table outside.”

Miguel looked like he would rather say he was too busy, but when he looked at your face, it was clear that he knew something was wrong. After a brief silence, he spoke up in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"Just give me a minute to finish this. Lyla!"

You didn't wait to hear all his instructions. You went back to the kitchen and waited for him there.

"If this matter is so important, you can tell me now," Miguel said.

"Let's eat first, please. We can talk after. I promise, this will be the only time.”

It was clear that this did not decrease his suspicion, but rather fuelled it. Nevertheless, he sat down and without any further talk picked up his sandwich. This compelled you to do the same.

As you ate, you tried to formulate in your mind what you would eventually say to him from the myriad of possibilities you had gathered. It proved to be surprisingly difficult, and you didn't feel ready to speak when you finally finished eating.

Miguel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well? I'm all ears.”

There was something so condescending in his voice that your jaw tightened. You closed your eyes for a moment before you spoke. You tried to keep your voice calm.

“I've been thinking a lot lately. About you, about us… You know this isn't working. I don't know if Lyla told you, but…"

Miguel slammed the table so hard that the cutlery clinked. Your breath hitched. You didn't even see him move.

“Again, seriously? Look, I don't have time for this. I understand that you're not happy with the current situation, and believe me, neither am I. But still…”

“I want to leave you, Miguel.”

He immediately stopped talking. You just stared at each other. The sound of the impact was still ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you broke the silence again.

"I'm sorry. Believe me, I really am sorry. I know we've tried a lot…" I tried, you told yourself, “but I don't want to continue this. It will be better for both of us if we can move on."

“Vale” he said dryly.”And what are you going to do after this? Do you have any idea what's out there in the city?”

"Yes. I've already found an apartment, well, we've found one with Lyla."

Another silence followed. You stood up from the table.

“I'm sorry” you said again. You didn't even know what got into you when you reached out to stroke his hair.

"Don't," he hissed, causing your hand to stop in the air. He turned away from you.

“What are you waiting for? Pack your stuff and get out of here.”

This time you didn't hesitate. You turned around and left to gather your things.

***

Unbelievable. Just fucking unbelievable, really.

A week had passed since you moved out. Miguel refused to use the word ‘permanently’. At first, he didn't even want to believe that you were really capable of going so far as to bring up the breakup, and he never dreamed that you would actually go through with it.

As you packed, he waited for the moment when you'd break down and apologize, when you'd take everything back to let things return to how they used to be.

As it turned out, he waited in vain. Somehow, you had enough backbone not to waver as you always did before. This was his mistake, he should have noticed the signs that this time you are not just planning, but also acting.

His fist clenched at the thought that Lyla helped you without telling him. This could never happen again. When you told him this, he was so furious that he was on the verge of smashing the table between you. He was so angry that he feared he might actually harm you. This is partly why he didn't stand in your way when you started pulling your suitcase out.

But now? Now he was left alone, and he knew he would never be able to truly let you go.

He lay alone in his bed. He managed to fall asleep on the first night, perhaps he didn't even dream, but then he woke up in the middle of the night. He was so used to you being next to him when he slept, regardless of the time of day, that when he didn't hear your breathing in his sleep, panic immediately set in.

He woke up to his heart almost bursting out of his chest, while clutching the spot on the sheet where you usually lay. He hated himself for being so predictable, and he hated you for eliciting this from him even when you weren't near.

Since then, he hardly slept at all. He was so tense that even the slightest slight could push him to the brink of a rage fit. For a while, Lyla didn't even try to reason with him.

He immediately got your address from her, of course, then checked it out for himself. He deliberately didn't go when he knew you would be home, but he couldn't help it, he had to cling to the walls of the surrounding buildings to watch when your figure, shrouded in shadows, got home.

Villains came to his mind. They were the ones who thought like him in this moment. Obsessively focusing on a single target as if his life depended on it… In a way, it was a very petty mindset. Not suited for someone responsible for the safety of others. But that's exactly what he was doing – watching over you and ensuring no threat reached you. Of course, he continued to track Vulture and the others as well, not to mention the other Spider-People, but it was true that they all took a backseat when it came to you.

No, he wasn’t like the villains. He did this because you were important to him. If you had a little sense, you could have seen this too. That's why he waited through this week to calm down enough to speak to you in a normal tone. If possible, it would have been best if you came back to him of your own free will, but if he scares you, he might achieve the opposite.

Actually, what he wanted most was for you to come back on your own with your stupid suitcase, but so far you've held firm. It seemed you were doing just fine without him. Sometimes he even caught you humming to yourself on the way home. You haven't done that in months at his place. Miguel didn't even want to admit to himself that this made a small part of his heart ache.

The problem was that as time went on, he didn't become calmer, quite the opposite. If he wasn't thinking about you, then he was thinking about the things that could harm you while you weren't with him. If something were to happen to you when he wasn't there…

He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.

A soft beep came from his watch. A reported robbery. Since it seemed the local patrol had already dealt with the matter, he almost settled back down, but then he glanced at the holographic map.

He immediately jumped to his feet. His blood thudded in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear Lyla's responses to the instructions he barked at her as he headed out.

The robbery had occurred near your block. Right next to you.

***

You stood with your arms crossed in front your chest in the window of your third-floor living room. The sirens had long since gone silent and the police had left. The case did not seem serious, and you were not overly worried. These things were not unusual in this city. Before you got together with Miguel, you often saw similar crimes.

Miguel. You thought you would miss him more, but from the very first days you felt the invisible weight lifting off your shoulders. You unpacked the few belongings you brought with you and started creating a new life for yourself.

It was good to occupy yourself with something other than ruminating about your ex. It was strange that you no longer had to think about when you would push him away or make him angry with some insignificant detail.

At first, you didn't even notice the dull thud that sounded like a heavy object had hit the wall of your panel apartment.

Then your bedroom window burst.

You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could scream. You looked around the room, then crouched behind the couch in the corner, using the clatter of the glass shards to cover the sound of your movement. You didn't turn on the light in the living room because you didn't want anyone to notice you watching the police cars, but the light was on in your bedroom. The intruder must have seen this.

Who was currently out in the city? Vulture? Venture? And who else? They shouldn't have known who you are. While you were with Miguel, you barely left the apartment. No one has seen you two in the same place for months.

You covered your face with your palm as a massive thud shook the wall behind you. That might have been the door that led to the hallway.

“Where are you?”

Your breath hitched. This can't be happening.

You almost answered him, but changed your mind at the last minute. You flinched when another blow shook the house. It was the wall mirror.

You pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to stifle the sob rising in your throat, and the other to pull your phone out of your pocket. Who should you call? You can't send normal cops after Miguel. Plus, you've never heard him like this.

A superhero wouldn't harm innocents… But a superhero wouldn't break into his ex's home like this either. If he just wants to save you from something, then why did he smash everything in his path? No, you felt that you shouldn't come out, but with his senses, it shouldn't have taken much time for him to find you.

As if he heard your thoughts.

“I know you're here. I can smell you.”

His voice was slightly calmer than it was a few moments ago. You heard him take a deep breath. This meant that it was quiet enough that if you started crying now, he would find you instantly.

You didn't dare to move. Tears freely flowed down your face, but you didn't feel it. Suddenly, you became very aware that you really had no idea how good his hearing was.

He stopped in the hallway. What was he doing? Fiddling with something, but what…

Your phone rang in your hand.

The next moment, the couch disappeared in front of you. You didn't have time to end the call before Miguel grabbed your shirt to pull you up. Your back hit the wall, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Your phone fell to the ground, but you didn't even try to catch it. Sharp claws tore up the fabric of your clothes where he held you.

You cried out in pain and terror.

For a moment, you locked eyes with each other before Miguel's red gaze slid down to scan your body. It took a little time for you to realize he was looking for injuries.

When he was convinced that you were unharmed, he slightly loosened his grip, but not enough for you to break free. You desperately clung to his wrist, despite knowing that if he wanted to kill you, nothing would stop him, especially not your weak human hands.

"Please, don't hurt me," you whimpered from the depths of your throat.

He growled. You had never heard this sound from him before.

“Hurt you? Are you out of your mind? I'm here to take you home.”

You didn't dare shake your head, but he must have seen something in your eyes. Suddenly, you felt your feet on the floor again.

Miguel dragged you by the remnants of your shirt like a ragdoll. Your mind was foggy with panic, yet you instinctively tried to dig your heel into the carpet. As you passed by the doorway, you reached out to grasp it, but it didn't slow him down. You felt something crack in your shoulder, then the burning pain flooded you. You had to let go.

You needed all your willpower not to scream when you saw what he had done to your apartment. It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Your knee was scraped raw on the few feets leading to your front door, not to mention the shards of glass Miguel dragged you over. You were so terrified that you barely felt the pain.

You thought he would drag you straight out of the apartment, so you squeaked in surprise when he stopped in front of the door and let go of your shirt. As you collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, he stood in front of you.

"I want you to pay very close attention to me, because I won't say this again. What do you see?"

You looked at him in shock. You followed his gaze with your eyes as he pointed to the lock.

"The door handle?”

He growled so loudly that your chest trembled. He reached down to roughly grab the back of your neck. His claws left shallow scratches on your skin as he forced you to stare at the lock above the door handle.

"This is a damn biometric identifier. Do you know how long it takes for someone to get a few samples from you? For God's sake, do you know how hard it would be to break in here?”

You were afraid that a stronger jerk and he might just tear your head off. You whimpered like a cornered animal.

"Answer me!"

"Very easy?" you muttered.

“Exactly! And do you know what's the deal with your windows? Anyone can see in, from anywhere, not to mention breaking in.”

Yes, you demonstrated that very well, you thought numbly, but you had the sense not to say it out loud. He let go again, and you took the opportunity to slide against the wall. You huddled up just like you did in the living room only a few minutes ago.

Miguel said something in Spanish, but he spoke too quickly for you to understand. He paced back and forth in front of you.

"I simply don't understand what was going through your head. It's a miracle you're still alive. What if those on the streets decide to break in? What if they follow you to your apartment?"

He roughly ran his hand through his hair.

"I know foresight isn't your strong suit, that's for sure, but even you have to see this. You need to come back with me. It's obvious you can't keep yourself safe."

You were about to shake your head, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you covered your face, and agonizing sobbing broke out of you again.

A little time passed, which seemed like hours to you, but could only have been a few minutes. Miguel stayed silent, and you had no idea what he might be doing. You didn't hear him move among the shards of glass, but that didn't mean much. If he wanted to, he could remain completely silent.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to wail.

You flinched when you felt his hand on your arm. His claws were no longer out. You didn't answer him when he called you by your name. You were still crying.

“Damn it” he said quietly. “Please, calm down.”

You tried to hold yourself back, you didn't want to anger him again, but you couldn't. Even though every part of you protested when you felt him gently pull your hand away from your face, you didn't resist. Now you could see that he had squatted down in front of you. He wiped a tear off your face with his thumb.

It was evident that he wanted to say something more, but then he changed his mind. This time, much more gently, he reached out to pull you into his arms. As he drew you close to his chest, you responded by clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder.

You could feel the movement of his muscles beneath his skin as he let out a sigh.

"God, I missed you so much."

You had no idea what expression he might be wearing. Tears were still streaming from your eyes, soaking his superhero suit, but it no longer seemed to bother him.

"I'll never let you go again."

[possumdnp]

I'm just feeling so happy today that the gaming channel came back from hiatus and we're in this timeline :')

this past year has honestly been the most fun I've ever had in the phandom <3 you all are so kind and creative and funny, and I've loved talking about Dip and Pip with you all <3

[possuminabathtub]

Mel was weird, Danny decided, really weird. He didn’t pay all that much attention to his classmates, but when she had leaned over in the middle of a Calculus lecture and made a stupid math joke, then looked confused when the professor glared at the both of them for Danny’s loud snort of laughter, he had started to warm up to her.

She reminded him of Sam, with her pitch black hair and pale skin. Or Tim, with that sharp, observant look in her eyes, like she might pick somebody apart to see how they worked. There wasn’t really any one thing he could really put his finger on that made her any stranger than the average Gotham University student, but he supposed he wasn’t exactly in a position to speculate on strangeness, considering his family of assorted bats and birds.

Now that he thought about it, her ectoplasmic signature was one thing he could be certain was strange. It wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. Not pit tainted like Jason’s had been, not strictly ghostly, but also not a halfa like him or Ellie. He could feel what almost resembled a ghost core, nestled comfortably into her ribcage, but it was a void, a blackhole, everything and nothing at the same time, depthless and yet overflowing.

So yes, Mel was weird, but she was also his English tutor, so she couldn’t be all that bad.

----

Trying out something new bc I've delved into the DPxDC fandom a lot recently, and I've been trying to write more with the flow of inspiration and just have fun with it. Mel felt like the right choice for that, since she's got years of character development and writing her comes so easily (and she conveniently fits very well into the setting)

[maochira]

Lorenzo likes to imitate the noises of any animal you come across or show him a picture of because he likes to make you laugh with it. It's stupid and silly and sometimes slightly embarrassing when you're in public, but Lorenzo doesn't care. If there's a cat he will go meow meow and if there's a dog he will go woof woof because seeing you giggle about it makes him so happy. He also tries to talk to the animals and you think that's also to make you laugh, but he's genuinely trying to communicate with those animals. He's convinced one day he can hold an entire conversation with a cat.

But no matter how many different animal noises he makes, he will forever be a possum at heart.

Taglist (sign-up link): @kaineedstherapy12 @luvcalico @vanitasbrainrot @deerangle3 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @https-archangel @userwithlotsoftime @chaosinanutshell

[seijorhi]

In honor of his birthday I just wanna say I am obsessed with Imitation!Kuroo. So devoted to his darling, even after all this time. And special shout out to Imitation!Reader who is like, "Y'know what. I like being alive, so RIP to those other girls, but I'm different." And did what she needed to do to survive. I wish her much success on her mission to become number one darling in his heart, because honestly HE ISN'T SO BAD WHEN YOU FOLLOW THE RULES.

i do so love imitation kuroo, poor, broken, delusional boy <33

it's such a doomed situation. she'll have to lose every part of herself for the faintest sliver of hope of outlasting the others.

[illarian-rambling]

Back on my Rel grind 💪 this time with Rel's actual pov and man I really did just give this guy angelic adhd, didn't I?

[ch-postal-company]

My coworker found this in the outgoing box and knew I would find it entertaining.

(Maybe this will be the post that finally gets my blog some attention. Tumblr loves possums right?)

[levihandynasty]

∘𓈒⚬⋆𓆣🪡Needle Through a Bug🪡𓆣⋆⚬𓈒∘

Ship: Kenny Ackerman x Uri Reiss Word Count: 3970 Prompt Word: Punish

Tw/Cw: Cruelty/Torture of an insect, self harm, Eating disorders, Fatphobic language.

Please note: I am in no way, shape, or form fatphobic.

He should have been there. He should have stood by to support Uri as he gave his life to the jaws of his niece. 

“He doesn't want you there! Fuck off!” The fat fuck had pushed him back into the night, his fat fists pounding on Kenny's chest to keep him from once more attempting to make an entry.

 “Hey, calm your tits, he told me to-”.

 “It doesn't matter! He changed his mind, now head back to whatever part of the sewers you crawled out from, and leave us be!”

 His mouth was as fat as his head, and his head as fat as his body. Kenny had always thought him dumb, “Ugly fuck” he would have pushed past him, found a way of entry and been there for Uri as they had agreed, if it hadn't been for that child that now stared daggers into his soul. Was that her? Was that the girl who would soon devour Uri whole? Was she staring out of hate, or perhaps curiosity? 

“We had an agreement” Kenny began his next argument. Uri had promised him that he would get to see this ritual of theirs, this transformation of man. It would be beneficial to the both of them, Uri had said. For that way Kenny's thirst would be quenched, if even for just a moment. And Uri, though he hadn't voiced this to Kenny, wouldn't have to feel as scared, if he could look past the beast that was his niece, and catch a glimpse of this man, his companion.

An argument started was never finished, for the girl who's curiosity had brought her out of hiding now looked up to Kenny with eyes so similar to his. Yet deep within those eyes laid fear, a fear Kenny quickly assumed was aimed towards his presence there. A look he never thought Uri could carry, if only he could have looked inside- maybe they weren't so similar after all? “Get your hand off of me”

Finally giving in, Kenny smacked Rod's hand away from himself, staring down at the short man with enough hatred to feed Satan for days. Then he turned, and he didn't look back even once as he walked away from the chapel that would become his.. companions.. final resting place.

Upon arriving home, Kenny found his nest to be much emptier than usual, much colder than he remembered it ever being before. It felt as if the building itself had lost Its spark, its soul.

Kenny moved around a lot, never stayed in the same place for more than a week at the time. Rarely he would return to a residence he had resided in before, it only ever happened if the owner was a new one from the first time he had been there. It was easiest that way, helped him avoid detection when needed, and also eased his mind somewhat. He would have continued this path even if he had lived a normal life, that much he was certain of. However, this also meant that Uri had never set foot in his current residence, so it had no reason to feel the way it did now.

Cold, like how Kuchels's room had felt when he found her for the last time. And much like back then, the tall man silently leant against a dry wood wall, feeling how the rough texture lifted his coat and allowed splinters to dig themselves Into his back. He didn't mind the pain, not now. In fact, a smile crept onto his lips, for in some ways this felt good.

The wall was run-down enough to release splinters large enough to cut through his clothes, draw blood. The owner must be some drunkard who doesn't know how to care for his rooms. The splinters dug into his back as those teeth must have dug into Uri. He wondered what it must have felt like? For those teeth are much larger than any splinter, needle, or knife. Had they offered him something to drink? Eased his pain before tradition forced him to take his final breath? Was he even dead yet? Or was he still chained up down there?

Enough thinking, a drink sounded damn good right now.

If only the drink had been cold, perhaps it would have actually been good. No matter, it went down Kenny's throat in large gulps anyway, a desperate attempt at numbing his mind before the thoughts grew too unkind. Was beer like blood if you imagined it hard enough? Lukewarm beer down a cold man's throat, like a small man's blood down into a large woman's stomach.

He spat it out. The last sip of beer he took was taken at the halfway mark of his bottle, and so the bottle met with the wall before him, flying through stale air before colliding hard and shattering into a million pieces. It's blood soaking the floorboards, its bones cracked and splintered, mangled, as if- 

The images of Uri's body, wrecked and torn, was no more than speculation from Kenny's side. If that piglet had just let him in, there would have been no room for this, he would have known exactly how he had looked, perhaps it would have given him peace?

Although Kenny didn't know why he sought peace, he had known of Uri’s eventual fate since they met. He had been prepared for this day since the day Uri explained to him how their world worked. Never had he had a problem with it, in fact he found it fascinating. Power granted down the generation through the death of one's loved ones? It couldn't be anything but fascinating, and Kenny wanted in.

In on the power, not the love.

Love is a weakness.

He had learned that many years ago.

He had been younger then, just returned home with the bastard Kuchel had burdened him with. He never intended to be its father, so that was how he had thought of it for the first week or so, as an it, not a kid, not a human. Though of course that didn't last.

He came home late each and every night, so quickly the runt had learned to feed himself, fight for himself, and bed himself. The second skill always brought a smile to Kenny's face, the kid would be alright. Not that he cared if he lived or died, surely, but the kid would be alright. And it was more than amusing watching something so small cause as much havoc as this one did. Grown men on the ground by the hand of a child that couldn't be anywhere near his puberty yet.

Though he ate like his stomach was endless. The man in charge didn't know much about kids, never had, and never did he learn either. Yet he had taken this as a good sign, he'd grow to be big and strong despite his circumstance, good.

As any Ackerman should.

One of those late nights, Kenny had returned home to an empty house. Weird, usually the kid would make sure Kenny returned before he laid to rest, and on those nights where Kenny didn't return, or returned after the child's fuel had died down, the boy would be sleeping upright, arms crossed over his tiny body, as if waiting for his guardian. Kenny figured perhaps the boy didn't feel completely safe all alone.

This night, Kenny had waited for the boy instead, his tired body raged on as he occupied himself with whatever book the home's owner kept around, or whatever defenseless bug crawled across his table.

With a jar and some toothpicks, Kenny found amusement. 

Icy blue eyes stalked their prey. His breath now silent as he leant down to the old raggedy table, watching the rapid movements of six tiny legs, whilst also making sure not to spook it. He had already lost his battle to four of these flying pests; he refused to lose once more. As the being rushed closer, his breath came to a full stop, he had burned himself on that mistake once before. 

Bang

The jar came down upon the shit-eater like God's hand is said to strike down upon the unrepentant.

And just like that man would, the fly began buzzing about, slamming its hard body against the glass that contained it. And Kenny watched, feeling the heavy jar buzz against his hand as the weak creature used all its little power to fight a useless battle for freedom. It was admirable perhaps, that it managed even this.

Perhaps he himself was God? To those smaller and weaker, perhaps Kenny the Ripper was God.

He let it tire itself out, enjoying the buzzing more the more desperate it grew. “you feeble thing..” It landed for a moment, only to start its panicked frenzy once more “it won't be long now” as if calmed down by his voice, the bug once more landed, stressfully beginning to clean itself. Watching it, Kenny was almost sure it would rip its own head off. Again and again it repeated this action, and every time those tiny legs ran over it's head, Kenny held his breath in anticipation. How could something that lived in filth and shit care so much about being clean? Something so small and worthless had no reason to care for its appearance. 

When you go to meet God, you want to put on your best suit. Perhaps. 

It never did rip its head off, and perhaps this was disappointing to Kenny, he was certain he had seen it before, some fly holding its own head in its hands. Had it been hoping to put it back on? Save its life before it was too late and live to see another day? Maybe not, maybe it had already been long dead, frozen in time, overtaken by death as it acted on its desire to be clean. Being clean meant nothing, as long as you managed to keep your health, a bit of filth wouldn't be the end of you. Stupid thing really, dying while doing something as boring as cleaning. 

The bug's incessant need for cleanliness was becoming bothersome to the man. If he was to let it go, it would fly over to the nearest shit pile it found, so why did it even bother? Useless.

He didn't let it go, of course. Instead he began rapidly shaking the jar back and forth, sending the small helpless creature crashing from wall to wall much harder than it had before. It tried to fly away, and had taken flight the moment the jar started moving. The choice had been between getting crushed by the walls that contained it, lying broken on the rumbling table as the jar again and again would run it over, rub its innards into the porous table and make it part of it. Like soldiers crushed underneath a titans feet, stomped to jam, and later turned to feed for the soil. Or, of course, taking flight and having Its brains scrambled. Did flies have brains? Probably not, he figured.

Once the creature was dizzy enough, Kenny had quickly lifted the jar and tossed it aside, hearing it come crashing down upon the floor somewhere to his left. The kid would probably sweep It up in the morning, if he comes back that is. 

Grabbing old and used toothpicks, the man swiftly turned the being onto its back. Hurriedly those wooden objects had come down upon it, keeping it from moving at all. One pick in each of its wings, keeping it strapped down to the table, its wings outstretched much like the arms of a man chained for slaughter.

A hand laid upon the daggers of wood, keeping them balanced well enough for Kenny to free a hand and use it freely whilst still managing to keep the fly pinned. Watching its strength-less legs kick against the air felt much like reading a good book. 

It wouldn't keep those legs, for Kenny’s free hand soon reached down, sharp unkempt nails gripping onto the fragile limbs, and one by one he'd pluck them off.

“Hey” as a last act of violence towards the bug, Kenny pulled the toothpicks into opposing directions, effectively ripping the things wings off. “You're home” standing up, Kenny's eyes met with the kid who had greeted him. “You're ho-” the child too, had spoken.

The bug had become part of the table anyway, under the palm of this man.

“Didya win?” The kid was all bloody, no wonder he had been late. “that yours?” The boy wasn't replying to him. “hm” the child scoffed, limping his way over to his bed.

At least he was home.

The night reached its time out, and early morning crept in before Kenny went to check on the kid. He had waited til he was certain his slow breathing was the one of a sleeping boy, not an angry one, Kenny would have been angry.

He stood above him, watched each breath he took, watched as his small frame lifted and sank under the thin blanket. So easily breakable.

His face was nearly unrecognizable now, swollen and bruised. Blood still stained the child's lips, crusted in his nose. He slept with his mouth open, perhaps it was all clogged up, broken maybe?

Kenny was angry.

An uncertain hand moved to the boy's face, and much too gently pushed the boy's tangled hair to the side. The fly had never known such tenderness, and after Levi, there had only been one other man who had seen it. 

Yet for a moment, an array of images flashed through Kenny's mind. Images of him gripping the kid by his head, covering his eyes with his palm as he pushes him back into the flat and torn pillow. Raising his other hand, a knife was brought down to the kid's tender throat, digging into it as easily as a spoon through a tub of animal fat. Wasn't much different, really, not with a sharp enough knife and skilled enough hand.

“Kenny?” 

“Kid.” 

“What are you doing?”

He held no knife, yet his hand rested on the boy's clammy forehead. Staring, he must have been staring.

“Sleep with one eye open, kid. Doors are weak, don't ever let your guard down.”

With those words the lanky man left the child to his own devices. His hand who so desperately had ached for its friend, for its completion was finally offered the soothing cold texture of a blade held tightly in its palm. Trembling, Kenny had almost cut himself before finding the handle. Glistening in the dull light of the underground, it wasn't long until the icy metal once more was dirtied by filthy blood. “What kinda fuck picks a fight with a child?”

Words were fleeting, and by the time Kenny sat back down to rest, only after making sure the door was tightly locked behind him; he had already forgotten the advice given to Levi.

Levi however, never forgot.

Kenny had been younger then.

The floorboards had drunk his beverage, leaving naught but a stain. For how long had he been sitting here? His legs had grown all numb, all the way to his hips, his back ached like hell, and not only thanks to the splinters still buried deep into his skin, like a needle through a helpless flailing bug.

Hungry, his stomach was screaming out for anything that would or could fill it. Following the most basic instinct he pushed up from the floor, cringing at the tingling piercing feeling that washed over his lower half as he stumbled towards the nearest cupboard. 

His limbs all shook as he scanned his belongings, he had an abundance of food, yet he reached for none of it. Screaming at him to grab something, anything, his stomach twisted and turned. The more it rioted, the more he hesitated.

“Nah-” the floor was once more fed with needless filth for bugs to consume. Kenny had barely managed to turn away before ridding himself of what little had resided within the depths of his stomach. May have resided? Never before had vomiting burnt this badly.

Again and again the man had attempted to satisfy his hunger, but each and every time he failed. Vomit was left to rot into his floor, marinating. He should have moved by now, he had stayed around for far too long. He should move on, the smell was making it impossible to eat, and Kenny didn't have the strength to kneel down to clean it up.

It hadn't taken long before he ceased these feeble attempts at feeding. He was starting to find comfort in the pain, the hunger was starting to feel safe and familiar, strengthening as it slowly ate at him, rid him of what he held above all things, his power.

As the world has eaten away his Uri.

He could no longer recognize the man who stared back at him from the reflection of his dusty mirror. Hollow and weak, never before had he looked hollow and weak. His cheeks had sunk, his eyes looked drained and empty, too heavy for their sockets. He could no longer recognize the man before him, a man who had felt the warm touch of love, Uri’s love, and regrettably let it slip out between his fingers.

He didn't look weak, he was weak. He had allowed the world to steal away the only good thing that had ever came to him unprompted. Uri had never a day in his life needed to be kind to Kenny, yet he had chosen to be. Despite how they met, despite Kenny’s crude behaviour, Uri remained smiling, telling him stories from his world, and allowing Kenny to be just who he was. Never once had Uri given him those ugly looks his grandfather had oftentimes tried to hide, never did Uri use Kenny's past against him, nor did he view him as a monster. If anything, the monster was perhaps the saint that had shown the man grace.

No, he was his light, his much needed light. Not a monster, not even one bit. Kenny was indeed the only monster between them, titan or not. “You up there? Uri? Up in the stars shinin’ down at me? Can you see me now, Uri? Look, I'm crying too.” 

The hunger felt good, the hunger felt deserved.

Perhaps this way he would meet him again?

The tears? They did nothing but burn.

Pain had become his friend, if the divine refused to punish him, he would take it into his own hands. Now satisfaction was found in the hunger, not in getting rid of it. Boredom was killed alongside the smoothness of his skin. A cold blade helped him forget, an empty stomach made him feel like he was finally able to repent, even if just a little bit. Finally, willing.

Months had passed since Uri's death when a heavy knock upon his door woke Kenny from a dream in which Uri's gentle hands had played with his hair as they rested in a large green field, their skin being kissed by the warm sun. Those all knowing eyes of his were so beautiful in the light. “What!?” Damn bothersome, he should have found another place to stay.

He hauled himself up on his feet, stumbling before he had even lifted his leg to take a step forth. Walking had grown to be a heavy task, one he no longer performed every day. He kept bottles in which he'd empty his bladder, what other reason would he have to get up anyway?

“I'm comin’ !” The knocks were growing more and more insistent. “Calm down!” One of these bottles made themselves an obstacle in his path, Kenny's whole body jolted as he tripped over the glass, watching as it fell over and began pouring its sorry insides back into the world. “Damn-” it smelled worse all out and about. 

From the moment his hand pushed down on the handle, hell was preparing to blow up in the old serial killer's face. Or perhaps more so, a gun. A weapon that as soon as the door opened had been turned with its hind towards him and slammed into his face. “Hey!-” before he had even managed to reach for his jaw, soothe the pain, a man had come to tackle Kenny straight to the ground.

Too weak to fight back properly, the boney man began tossing about underneath the man who's knee pressed so painfully down against his spine. The angry scream that erupted from the ripper's lungs vibrated through his chest and into the creaking wood floor. Vibrated like a fly’s buzzing within a glass jar, held tightly by a devil who's grin only grew wider the more it struggled.

Face down in piss and weeks old molded vomit, Kenny came to realize that perhaps this shit-crawler was him all along. Was cleaning perhaps, the bug, no ,Levi’s way of trying to build a distance them between, or worse! Levi’s own attempt at saving his foolish uncle from himself, just as Uri had.

The abuse didn't last. Upon realizing that there was little fight in Kenny, the man had gotten off, laughing at him before pulling him up from the ground and tossing him back onto the couch the man just stood from.

Kenny braced himself for whatever might come next, more abuse, or perhaps they'd gone rogue and would kill him, avenge their fallen comrades. Better yet, maybe they'd gotten the order to.

Legal assassins, the whole bunch.

Little did Kenny know that exactly that was the offer they were to put before him.

A license to kill.

“I don't drink this piss.” the man muttered, making the military personnel before him give him a look of disbelief before removing the cup he had offered the older man. Tea had never been Kenny's thing, the kid had liked it though, he wondered if he still did. Did he find the time? 

They kept chatting with him for what felt like hours, but Kenny had little interest in what they had to say. “You look like shit, get back into shape.” Rude, firstly. Secondly, even If he had wanted to, now he'd rather not out of spite. “I don't have the strength.” Kenny's voice rasped painfully out of his throat. “So how about you do me a favour, and kill yourself. I'll watch ."The MP's Didn't find it as amusing as he did, apparently. For as Kenny cracked a smile, the men's frowns only grew deeper.

And then they kept talking. And talking.. Well one of them did anyway, the other instead stood back, arms crossed over his chest.  Kenny could have gone to sleep, he wouldn't have felt like he was missing out on anything important. If he closed his eyes again, perhaps he'd find Uri once more. He was feeling drained, as If his life was finally running out.

He didn't want to die, not yet. No, he remembered now, there was something he had to do first.

“Where are you going!? Sit down!” a damn squeaky voiced man, Kenny caught himself wondering if hair ever grew on military cunts’ chests. The tall Ackerman hadn't even realized he had gotten up and started walking. 

Yeah, wouldn't they like to know?

No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps thanks to the weapon that finally was gripped confidently in his hand once more. No attempt was made to stop him, perhaps they didn't dare?

He would find him.

And when he did, that squealing piggy would find himself on Kenny's plate. He couldn't die yet, not before Rod. 

The world is cruel, perhaps none of this was Rod's fault, but that coward deserved it regardless.

“Come piggy, piggy, Piggy~”

[teething-possum]

Galaxy Grim

By: Harper A. (@teething-possum)

(A poem about Laika, the Soviet Space Dog, who I’ve been referring to as “little Cosmomutt, the smallest of the Cosmonauts” for the past like. 17 hours.)

-

In Europe, long ago,

They would bury dogs in new cemeteries,

To have them guide souls to the afterlife,

So no human would be forced to stay

They called them Church Grims, Little Cosmonaut,

And you have seemed to become our Galaxy’s Grim,

Guiding our space cadets to the vast void if they don’t return to us,

And I can think of no one better for the job

Little Cosmonaut, did you understand your role?

Did you know you wouldn’t return?

That you would never feel wind in your fur as you ran again?

Did your young mind know you would die, alone, hot and scared?

Some may say you were a mutt,

But you were *our* mutt,

With stardust in your fur and pride in our hearts

We are honored to have been served by you

And we will honor your service forever in return

Oh, Little Cosmonaut, do not fret,

You may chase the planets through orbit for eternity,

No one will mind, you did your job,

You were a good girl, and we remember you

We will always remember our Galaxy Grim, Laika,

The First Soul in Our Solar Graveyard

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Sundae

Epilogue: And A Cherry On Top

(A Sun Dog Story)

3 months had passed. The found family had grown ever closer, never leaving each other's side. Wherever the Dog crawled, his crew would follow suit.

Ever since the 4 of them had come together, there had been a noticable change within the forest. The once barren woods were now brimming with life, and while nature would take its course, as it always does, coexistance between all creatures was somewhat of a possibility.

To the wildlife, the Dog was like an angel, sent to save those who had been preyed upon or abandoned. They no longer had to fear the men with guns, for the Dog would always come after them.

The town of Spielzeit had noticed this change, and many locals saw it as a blessing. Throughout those 3 months, many within the town had reported seeing many strange and bizarre creatures, most of whom frightened the town, even being blamed for strings of disappearances, the accusations of which were true.

The townsfolk believed the same would be true for their wildlife. It had been in a decline for some time, mainly due to illegal hunting. Yet, the wildlife thrived, and hunters have since been dwindling. And when they kept spotting a giant, orange dog in the woods, they assumed correctly that it was the reason. They eventually christened it:

The Sun Dog

It was night time. Dogday and the Sundae crew had set up camp. It was a busy day, Dogday had helped Ranger Angelo with an injured bear cub. It had been attacked by a small group of the Fae, bite marks had been covered all around it. It was lucky it survived.

He was the only one awake. He sat by the fire, humming a tune he heard a while back on a radio. It was a calm night, clear skies, crickets chirping. It was as picturesque as you could imagine.

The smell of lavender filled the air.

"Oh, hiya, Catnap! Finally awake from your nap, huh?"

NO. No. This wasn't some "friendly reunion", it couldn't be, as much as that voice wanted it to be. That thing killed his friends, it very nearly killed him. Whatever it wanted, it wouldn't be anything good.

"...I see you managed to escape as well. I applaud you. In all honesty, I hoped you would."

"What do you want? To finish me off properly? To finally catch your prey?"

"Oh, no. Nothing of the sort, heretic. I came to give you a warning."

"Oh, so now you care about my safety? I thought heretics were meant to suffer?"

"That's what I thought. But no just God would prolong the torture of one whose will is as great as yours. You earned your freedom, dog."

"....good to hear....so what are you here for?"

"You know full well that if I am here, so is he. And he doesn't take kindly to anyone who encroaches upon his territory. We have already given all of you what you want. Freedom. And all we ask now is to leave us be."

"...you just want to be left alone?"

"Yes. Leave us alone. Or there will be consequences."

"Understood. But I'd like to make a request, even if it isn't heard."

"Yes?"

"Don't hurt them. Or else."

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, the only sound being the crickets and wolves. And like smoke, the Cat disappeared.

The Dog layed down, staring at the stars, the three animals he called a family right beside him. And even then, the only company he had was himself. And while that night may have grown darker, he knew that a brighter morning was just around the corner.

(Story: Sundae. COMPLETE. Up Next: Purpureo Sub Caelo)

"Hey."

"Hi!"

"...I'm sorry."

[emotional-support-hufflepuff]

Chibi!reverb 2024!

Hey guys, this is my first reverb, and I had a blast working on it with the artist I paired up with Sioban! Their ideas for a bit of bittersweet in the bake were amazing and I had fun writing about Soul and his misadventures with Maka, Black star, and Crona as he tries to get his bakery up and running.

This one shot collection turned out bigger then I had planned and I'm excited to share it. This will probably keep growing so for now here's the start of A bit of bittersweet in the bake

[possumdnp]

golden kiwi (rated T, 1.7k words)

Summary: "Phil turns the corner and spots it on display in a corner of the shop: a large golden kiwi statue. It’s quite possibly the most majestic object he’s ever seen."

(A fic set during Dan and Phil's day off in Auckland during the Terrible Influence Tour.)

Read on ao3 here!