#animated comedy serial
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madame-helen · 9 days ago
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mooni · 4 months ago
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murder drones you absolute flaming trainwreck of a series i fucking love you sm <33
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would-they-listen-to-that · 16 days ago
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a playlist for someone who's f/o is Serial Designation N from Murder Drones?
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ here you go! - mod cupid
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I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters
Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows - Lesley Gore
Turn the Lights Off - Tally Hall
Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic
A Mask of My Own Face - Lemon Demon
The Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy
Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen
Feel Good Inc. - Gorillaz
Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) - My Chemical Romance
Baby Hotline - Jack Stauber's Micropop
thanks for dialing in!
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nyansquiddo · 1 year ago
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"Hrehrehrehrehrehreee. That's right, Petah is Petah, and Petah is me!"
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maguro13-2 · 7 months ago
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Trigger : Hey, Gainax! Can you hear me now bud? Gainax! Can you hear me now bud! Haha, very funny, man. I think that I got the wrong stuff, I hope those guys are fast asleep. Hey, Gainax. Quit joking around. Gainax? GAINAX!
*DOOR BANGING*
Trigger : Huh? Who can that be? Can't anyone sees that it's three in the gosh darn morning?
*door opens*
Trigger : Oh, Senshi. What do you have common to think about the consequences.
Laios : You're not gonna like it.
Trigger : Huh? What's this news paper about the dailly news reads that--
*RECORD SCRATCH*
Trigger : (in wario's voice) OH MY GOD!
(NEWSPAPER : FAREWELL GAINAX FOR LIFE)
Trigger : Ah, my long time predecessor is closing it's doors! The studio went out of business! Now who's gonna look after the characters or handle the animations with other studios!? Can't believe that Gainax is gone! All gone and I was too late! Seriously, don't blame on me, I didn't feel well when my old friend got serious file of getting a shutdown and now all of its employees have left the building. Well, at least I still have it's IPs.
Haruko : Of course, you're still living with the Gainax legacy. But you didn't forget about us, did you?
Trigger : Oh that's real funny haruko, you expect to believe that I would eventually see the studio Gainax throwing away like--(jumpscares) HUWAAAAH!!! Haruko Haruhara, is that you? W-W-What happened to you? Did all of you Gainax characters heard about the announcements. I mean...
Marcille : Did you all literally died on purpose?!
Haruko Haruhara : Yeah, well, we all died because of that. Anyways, we're ghost now, so buzz off, ya creeps.
Marcille : AAAAAAAAAA--(wakes up from dream) YAAAHH!!! I forgot about the announcement of Gainax's farewell!
"This morning"
(bagpipe playing)
Shinji : I guess this is goodbye to the studio that we all loved and now it's history. You all guys heard me, right? Studio Gainax is history. Same goes to Akira Toriyama who is now history!
Asuka : Well, it was the most important studio opened in the 80s, but we had a lot of great times together. I mean, this studio was our home, we cherished this place as the greatest shows that has ever existed on Japanese TV. Gainax is a great, great, great, studio in all of Japan.
Rei : So, now that we don't have the studio anymore, it appears that each of the studios has gathered their own IPs from it's remains and the owner ship will be something to do with it's future. Studio Trigger would be shaped in memory of our beloved studio now gone to waste like Lain's studio that got bankrupted for sure.
Shinji : You're probably right about that. It's not just the studio, it's about the heart. So let me tell you this one Studio Khara, you changed us for real! It used to be about the Gainaxing, now the Gainaxing lived on. So that's on you, Khara.
Asuka : So now that we all did a bid farewell to the studio that we all worked at.
Misato : Wait a second, did somebody left a pack of cigarettes in the building?
Mamimi : (lighting up a cigarette) That was my last pack before I had the chance to quit smoking. You never seen a girl who smokes at an age like this, do ya?
*KABOOOM!*
Mamimi : Whoops. Yeah, I think that was my pack of cigarettes in there.
Misato : Hey, Mamimi-san. I'm gonna ask you this appropriately.
Mamimi : Oh, okay.
Misato : Good. (OUTBURSTS) WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!? DID YOU LET ANYONE GO INSIDE THE BUILDING WHILE THE STUDIO HAS LOST EVERYTHING WE HAD!? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED!? SOMEBODY COULD'VE DIED IN THEIR!
Simon : I'm alive! But man that I used my robot to escape!
Mamimi : I guess that nobody was hurt in there, it could've been someone inside the building! Honestly, I-I-I swear! TH-This never happened!
Akko : I'D STILL LIKE YOU, SUCY!
*BOOM*
Mamimi : Okay. That wasn't totally my fault. At least, I still got my dignity. Well, you know all the rules, never smoke at a work place.
Misato : Well, there goes our former glory.
Shinji : Wise choice.
Asuka : I feel like the other studios have the studio's remaining IPs, totally makes a statement about the economic fundings of anime in the industry. It's only the anime industry that is part of the mangaka industry, who's gonna make everyone popular in Japan?
Lain Iwakura : Hey, guys. I forgot to give all the data back to Gainax since the studio is about to go out of business---And there goes the legend. Well, great. There goes another studio going out of business.
Rei : I know.
~ Goodbye Gainax 1984-2024 ~
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tendebill · 1 year ago
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[wip]
update: i have managed to do all the stuff i need for tomorrow/this week (i think. i hope.) and decided to treat myself by working on this seph piece a bit more :']
#made some progress on my animation assignment#made some sketches for my design diploma#took more photos for my painting diploma#and i just remembered i have an art history assignment to write but i think i still have like a week or two to get it done#so fuck it we ball#i still have time to write it muahahah#tomorrow's gonna be fairly chill methinks#so i'll still have time to make more sketches for my design diploma after school#fun fact: im making movie posters >:)#funner fact: its a series of posters for old polish comedies#from like 70s/80s/90s#shoutout to machulski and bareja#bros made pretty dope movies ngl#the movies are#seksmisja - sci-fi comedy about two men who are hibernated and wake up in 2044 to discover there are no more men left in the world#kiler - guy gets convicted for being a serial killer just because his surname is the same as the killers nickname which is KILER#and he decides to pretend to be the killer to get rich#miś - guy races his ex wife to get all of their money from their shared bank account in london#hilarity ensues also there is a bear made out of hay that is a metaphor for communism#poszukiwany poszukiwana - guys gets accused of stealing a painting and so he dresses up as a woman to hide and earn money#by being a housekeeper while he tries to re-paint the painting so he can return it even tho he didnt steal it#and lastly#co mi zrobisz jak mnie złapiesz - guy tries to trick his wife into cheating on him so he can divorce her and marry another girl#that he got pregnant. long story short - he gets fucked over in more ways than one#these are all just movies about a bunch of guys#theyre lowkey and highkey sexist at times but well what are ya gonna do#also most of them happen during prl aka communism time in Poland or feature stuff relating to it in some way#my parents and brother quote these movies regularly so its been very cathartic to watch them fully for the 1st time#and realize i know most of the scenes through the quotes alone lmao#apparently my family has been consistently quoting almost every scene from kiler for years
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hrhqueenfox · 5 days ago
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I just had a funny thought for a WEBTOON, manga or anime. What about a serial killer that goes after a girl as his next victim but he doesn’t know that she’s a magical girl. When he goes in for the kill, she just transforms in front of him. She just like keeps him in a magical prison, cause he knows her real identity
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jeffcross5000 · 3 months ago
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Did you like Top Gun, Slow Horses or Animal House? Experience them all at once with my book Fugitive Cougar, the screenplay adaptation of which won Best Action Adventure Screenplay at the 2021 Hollywood Boulevard Film Festival and which the Slamdance Film Festival described as "Veep with even more sexual innuendo in every line." You can read it either at jeffcross5000.wordpress.com/category/novels/fugitive-cougar/ or at https://www.wattpad.com/story/376656780-fugitive-cougar. New chapters drop every Friday at 7 AM.
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pitch-and-moan · 4 months ago
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Sonic Butthole
A dark comedy in which Beavis is the star witness in a serial murder trial in Northern England (based on the parody of the Sonic Youth album cover for Goo.)
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helenaheissner · 5 months ago
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Another piece of media I would compare Love During Robot Fighting Time to.
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ghostsandgod · 6 months ago
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We have Walking Dead at home - Chapter 1 - Babblecat3000 - キン肉マン | Kinnikuman (Manga) [Archive of Our Own]
I write stuff. Lovecraftian Commie drama and Personnel Situation horror, mostly 😆
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pardonmybunion · 5 months ago
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So this @laurenillustrated artwork and all the vintage-dream-casting at @hotvintagepoll got me thinking: if Scooby Doo were a thing in the 1890s, then a few years later it would be a NATURAL for silent Hollywood. So who do we cast in Hal Roach’s hit 1915-1919 series of Scooby Doo live-action comedy shorts?
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Shaggy and Scoob are both easy, because look, here’s Charley Bowers! He always plays chaotic pottering-around-with-machinery types, which is exactly the vibe that 1890s Shaggy gives, and he does so with a surrealist slapstick edge that’s perfect for the material. On top of that, Bowers is a pioneering stop-motion special effects artist—so he can also be our lead animator, and the rapport between live-action Shaggy and his animated Scooby will be delightful.
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Like Shaggy, Velma has to have a certain slapstick quality (“Where are my glasses? I can’t see without my glasses”), so it’s lucky we have Alice Howell—nicknamed “the female Charlie Chaplin” by the tiresome people who use that type of comparison. The point is, she can give Velma the bookish self-possession suggested in the 1890s look, AND also run through a gajillion doors in a wacky hallway chase culminating in a spectacular pratfall.
(Mabel Normand is another contender, but her acting style seems a couple notches too naturalistic for Scooby Doo. I definitely see her directing a bunch of the shorts though.)
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Fred needs to be both a conventionally hot manly-hero type and a bit of an idiot, so hello Reginald Denny! This British actor emigrated to Hollywood in the early 1910s, became a comedy star, and played himbos so well that he was still playing them into the 1960s. He’s even in the Adam West Batman movie as the naval hero Commodore Schmidlapp, who’s so ditzy he doesn’t realize he’s been kidnapped by the Penguin.
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Daphne is a fun one—let’s assume that by this point, Pearl White is tired of all those straight-up action serials like The Perils of Pauline, and wants to do a spoof for a change. With silent comedy shorts there’s always a chance the plot will wander away and leave the individual gags running the store, and White brings enough tension and gravitas to prevent that situation and keep things moving. At the same time, since she favors action roles, she can easily match the dynamism of Bowers, Howell, and Denny.
And that’s to say nothing of all the silent actors who could appear in bit parts on their way to fame. Maybe the gang tears the mask off the ghost, and discovers it’s an early-career Buster Keaton?
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fairyysoup · 2 months ago
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the devil i know
chapter eight: back in hell at least it's comfortable
(repost)
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fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist
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pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: Rabbit Season Duck Season ft. your demon boyfriend who doesn't want you to google him.
cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking (no monstery stuff comes up but he is still a demon), blowjob, ball play, facial, making a deal with a demon (eddie's version), lover's spat but in the most hilarious way don't worry, sacrificial computer killed by fire, death mention, trauma, bullying mention, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat
please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
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So. You’ve been at war with Eddie for two days now. 
It started as a joke. You got curious– you didn’t really mean anything by it. Maybe you knew you were poking a hornet's nest, but you don’t recall him giving you any specific instructions not to. And what were the odds that this demon, in his wisdom, gave you his real, full name in a moment of crisis? What were the odds that you would actually find something about him?
You googled the name Eddie Munson. 
At first, you did it on your phone, in bed, and your google search was limited to your IP address location. You got a ping for an Eddie Munson from one town over, who apparently bombed a car or something a few years back. The articles were bleak and didn’t include a lot of information. But otherwise, nothing from around Eastwick. 
Then you widened your search parameters. Demons are supernatural, paranormal beings, right? Eddie said he used to be human, so you figured you should treat it like trying to find a ghost. And you didn’t know how old Eddie was– he could have lived at any point, from the last 60 years to the last 6,000 years. Although, for some reason you had a hard time picturing him living in 4,000 BCE. 
You searched Eddie Munson folklore. 
What are you doing? 
You jumped at the sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear, locking your phone and throwing it across the bed. “Uhhh, nothing?”
Riiiight. 
“What’re you– did I call you again?”
Yeah. You do it a lot, you know. 
“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”
Mm. Go to sleep, sweetheart. 
And you heard nothing about it. Until the next morning, when you unlocked your phone again and saw Eddie Munson folklore had brought up a few strange results. 
Eddie Munson Serial Killer
Eddie Munson Satanic Panic
Eddie Munson Cult of Hawkins
You stared at the different search results with your morning coffee poised in the air, completely halted in place. You weighed your options, wondering what on earth you were going to find, should you click on any of them. 
Was it really him? Was this even worth the effort and the possible janky links to a Subreddit you didn’t need to be scouring through?
You clicked on Eddie Munson Serial Killer, just to see what would come up, if there was a Wikipedia article with the guy’s face that you could honestly identify as Not Your Eddie. 
And your phone died. 
You scowled, and set down your coffee so that you could try turning it on again, but all you got was a dim low battery notification. Down by your knees, Dante whined and bumped his nose against your leg to get you to pay attention to him.
“Sorry, baby,” you cooed, shoving your phone onto a charger and forgetting about it. You stooped to scratch Dante behind the ears, and kissed him on his little hellhound head. “Let’s get you some food, yeah?”
You didn’t try again until much later, when you sat down with your computer in your living room. Now it was a little bit more serious, less of a joke. Even if this ‘Eddie Munson Serial Killer’ wasn’t your Eddie Munson, you’d never heard of the guy before. And you genuinely thought you were pretty checked out on various serial killers throughout history, with your penchant for true crime podcasts.
You picked at your nails for a moment, your hands hovering over the keyboard as you weighed your options. Then, you typed the words quickly into the search bar, and hit enter.
And your fucking computer glitched, blue screened, and died.
You stared at the black screen in front of you with a feeling of exasperation that bordered on irritation. You looked up, and made eye contact with Dante, laying on your floor in a patch of sunlight. The Rottweiler gazed back at you with eyes that glowed a little bit red in the sunlight, almost knowingly.
“Eddie, what the fuck is this about?” you asked the empty air.
No answer.
“Eddie?”
Radio silence. Dante yawned and rolled onto his side. The clock in the kitchen ticked on ominously. You waited for something– Eddie’s voice in your ear, or a footstep behind you, alerting you of his presence. Nothing came.
You stared into thin air, thinking over your options. You figured you could just be looking too deeply into things. You reached forward, and tried to turn your computer back on.
The screen popped once, like there was a power surge, and then the keyboard started smoking.
“Eddie!” you screeched, flinging the computer away from your lap. Flames burst from it just as it hit the floor. Dante leapt up and barked excitedly at it. “What kind of Looney Tunes bullshit–” 
The burning computer’s screen blinked on, and from behind the crackling flames, a video started playing. Off-key, jazzy fanfare blasted from the burning speakers, sounding a bit screechy and tinny, and then Porky Pig appeared from within a red circle. 
“That’s all, folks!”
“Oh, I see.” You chuckled, slowly nodding in indignation. “This is war, you little shit.” 
So, that brings you here. The Eastwick Public Library is a tiny, one story unit in the town plaza’s main strip mall. Situated at the end of the building, it boasts a row of about fifteen bookshelves, half of which house the ‘religion’ genre, and maybe six computers. Seven, if you count the one behind the librarian’s desk.
You keep your head down as you log into one of the public access computers. It’s been ages since you set foot in the library, and you highly doubt any of your beloved neighbors would like to see you in here, looking up obscure serial killers. You can almost imagine their lack of surprise.
You type in your keyword search for a third time, and wait for the computer to spontaneously combust. It doesn’t. Instead, a few images pop up, followed by a Wikipedia article, followed by a few newspaper links. 
It’s him. It’s your Eddie. 
“Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson was an alleged American serial killer. He is the only known suspect of the Cunningham-Benson-Mckinney murders of Hawkins, Indiana in the Spring of 1986, and was presumed dead after the fatal 1986 Indiana Earthquake.”
The first image that shows up is obviously a yearbook photo– the typical blue background, a close up headshot of the grin that you know and love. The second photo is in black and white, a missing persons poster. And the third photo is yet another yearbook photo, but this time it’s a group shot. A bunch of teenage boys all lined up against a brick wall, under a banner that says Hellfire Club.
“No way,” you mutter incredulously, clicking on the photo and zooming in to find Eddie in the corner, sticking out his tongue and using his fingers to create a pair of devil horns over his head. 
The link for the photo is for a yearbook pdf from Hawkins. The title of it reads HAWKINS HIGH DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS HELLFIRE CLUB, 1985-86.
You press your lips together, feeling yourself gearing up to grin. Quietly, and with the most affectionate tone of voice you have ever used in your life, you croon, “You were in a D&D club?”
One by one, each computer along the row you sit at pops and fizzles with sparks before shorting out. You pull your hands away, giggling and watching the sparks come down the line until they reach your computer, and then it goes dead.
And so does the rest of the power in the building. 
You let out a blast of laughter, clapping your hands over your mouth while a group of teenage girls in the back corner scream bloody murder. The library has gone dark, and the cranky librarian at the front desk is simultaneously shushing the screaming girls and herding them out the door. You’re still giggling when you get up, and you have to hide the smile on your face when you duck past the librarian on your way out. 
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“Don’t.” Eddie materializes in your entryway when you get back home. Melting out of the woodwork, a shadow that forms into his pouting visage. He shakes his head at the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t say anything, I’ll–”
“What?” you ask him, tilting your head. You bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling again; it had been so hard to stop your fit on the way home. He looks sheepishly away from you, a bright pink blush coloring his cheeks. “You’ll what, Eddie?”
He tries to look severe, but he can’t hide the smile beginning to wobble its way onto his lips. “I’ll Looney your Tunes so fucking hard–”
“You can’t Looney my Tunes motherfucker, I’ll Looney your Tunes.” You point an accusatory finger at him. “You owe me a goddamn computer!” 
You’re not actually that mad about the computer, it was a piece of shit anyways. But Eddie surprises you by producing a new one from behind his back, and holds it out to you.
You give a placated hum as you take it from him. “So. That was you, huh?”
“No, it’s not– not technically–”
“Did you think I was gonna… gonna judge you, or something?” 
Eddie doesn’t say anything in response, his eyes flicking from yours, to the computer in your hands, and back.
“You’re a demon. I made a deal with you, I sold my soul.” You screw up your face. “You’ve offered to kill someone for me like… what, three times now?”
Eddie sucks on his teeth and looks away.
“I think I’m past the point of judgment, honey.”
“It’s not that simple.” His brow furrows, and he chews on his bottom lip, stripping chapped skin from it with his teeth. “Believe me, I wouldn’t– I wouldn’t care, except that shit… the shit you read, that’s not the truth. I swear.”
“Then what is the truth?” You ask him mildly. “Were you a serial killer?”
“No.”
“But you were in a D&D club.” 
He heaves a sigh, rocking back on his heels and tilting his head up towards the ceiling. You stare at him for a moment, watching him squirm a little bit like he’s looking for a way out of the conversation. Then, he grumbles, “Yeah…”
“You are so fucking cute.” Eddie’s cheeks turn bright red, and he spins away like he’s going to walk back through your bedroom door and disappear. You leap forward and grab his arm, giggling, “Nonono, don’t go. Come back here. So you’re a nerd, it’s okay. I’m a nerd. We’re nerds of a feather.”
“Sure.” Eddie snorts loudly, pulling you into a hug. His smoke surrounds you, as comforting and warm as his embrace. He buries his face in your hair, nuzzling against the side of your head. “M’gonna give you the truth, okay? The whole truth. And you have to promise not to run away.”
“Okay, Eddie.” You sigh and close your eyes as he lifts his hand and cups the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “I’m not running. I promise.”
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HAWKINS, 1984
There are a few things Eddie Munson hates in this world. He has an abundance of annoyances, yes, but only a few things that he despises more than anything else. One of them is bullies- no matter where they come from. School, law enforcement, employers, whatever. It’s something he can’t deal with, and oftentimes out of his own propensity for self preservation, he spends his time avoiding them. He’s never been a fighter. He’s never been tough enough to defend himself, but running away is usually just as effective. 
The second thing that he hates is loneliness. He likes to tell himself that, had he known that living in Hawkins would make him lonelier than anything, he’d have chosen to go live in Indianapolis with his Great Aunt Shirley instead of Uncle Wayne. But that’s not true at all– he loves Wayne, whenever he crosses paths with him.
But he’s being held back. Senior year of high school, and he’s not fucking graduating, and he doesn’t know if he can stand another year of bullshit from the assholes in town who can’t fucking stand him. 
“You’re the only student we have who isn’t attending graduation this year,” Principal Higgins had told him, with his nose endearingly turned up in disdain. “You should feel lucky that we even offered to allow you to repeat the grade, considering your… track record.”
And so, thanks to his own irresponsibility and bad habits, he’ll be subjected to more loneliness. More bullying. More of the things he hates.
Unless.
Eddie’s done stupider things. His copper item is a… fucking moscow mule cup. Old and tarnished, but properly made of copper. He’ll get a new one for Wayne at some point, but he hasn’t seen his Uncle touch it in all the years that he’s lived with him. Eddie dirties his hands as he buries it in the wet earth, where the creek that runs through the woods behind Forest Hills trailer park splits in two. Eventually they converge again, somewhere down by Lover’s Lake, but here they create a fork.
He didn’t bother casting a circle. He doesn’t even know how the fuck that’s supposed to work.
His shoes are wet. He stands in ankle deep water, and he splashes around uncomfortably. “Hey, uh. I don’t know what I’m doing, but um. I’m– I’m here to make a deal. I guess.”
“Who’s the genius who uses a river as a crossroads?” says a woman’s voice, startling Eddie out of his wits. 
Eddie jumps and loses his balance turning around in place, toppling down in the water. He looks around, hoping that he isn’t hearing things at the ripe old age of 18.
“Over here,” the voice says again, and Eddie catches a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. When he follows it, he finds a lady waving at him, crouched down beside a tree on the outer bank of the creek. Her dark hair hangs in her face, but she has a vaguely golden aura about her that makes her stand out in the night.
When she gets a good look at him, her sarcastic smile turns into a laugh. “Well, what do you know? It’s Jim Morrison.”
Eddie frowns. “I’m not Jim Morrison.”
“Obviously,” she says blandly. “Could’a fooled me, though.” She pauses, and then looks at him curiously. “What are you doing down there?”
Eddie glances down, at where he sits up to his waist in the water. He throws his hands up in defeat. “My delicates.”
She laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Yes.” He struggles up, dripping water all the way. “Y’know this is a sacred river? It was the birthplace of a love goddess or something.” He looks over at her again, and motions generally at her. “I can see the myth was true.” 
The lady giggles, standing up from her crouched position. She wears a long green skirt that brushes the ground when she walks, and a crocheted shawl over some kind of halter top-looking doohickey. He tilts his head, being reminded of an old record that migrated to the back of his collection. Woodstock, ‘69. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane. 
Grace Slick– or, at least, the demon who looks an awful lot like her, considering Grace Slick is definitely still alive– grins wickedly. “Oh, a charmer. Are you flirting with me?”
Eddie cracks a smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
The lady hums, standing directly across the water from him. “You wanted to make a deal. I’m here to make it with you, so if you don’t mind. What is it that you want?”
“How about being the greatest guitarist who ever lived?” Eddie gestures vaguely around at his general being. Ankle deep in water, soggy and probably looking very pathetic. “I figure maybe it’ll make things easier in the meantime. What does school matter to a rockstar, y’know? Maybe it’ll help me get the fuck out of town, for starters.”
The lady tilts her head. “And you’re not Jim Morrison, huh?”
“Was Jim Morrison a guitarist?” He rocks on his feet, nearly losing his balance again as he splashes around a bit. He plods awkwardly across the water, shoes squelching and pocket chains jingling. “What do I have to do, huh? Beg on my hands and knees? I’m already out here, soaking wet, in the middle of the night–” 
“You’ll be a guitarist,” the lady tells him, her voice a bit sterner now. She regards him closely, her dark eyes narrowed at him. “The greatest who ever was and ever will be. I can see why your petition came to me.”
“My… what?” 
“Your request for a demon to make a deal with. It came to me, because I favor musicians and performers.” Shortly, she produces a small, spiraled notepad that has a bunch of messily scrawled words on it. “I’ll give you your greatness. In return, you give me blood each full moon. A few drops on a tissue will do. Burn it in a dish on your window sill.” 
“Is that normal?” Eddie asks, “Y’know, considering you’re also getting my soul, and everything.”
“It’s what I ask of you for veneration. Each demon asks for something different. I just find it easier than asking for a sex rite.”
“Excuse me?”
“After you die, you’ll become one of us,” she continues. “A demon of the crossroads. I don’t keep your soul. But I get power for securing it.” She snatches his arm, as he reaches towards her notebook. “Is that a yes?”
Eddie blinks, flushing pink from the cold and the woman’s grip, burning his skin. Her hand is unbearably hot, almost enough for him to jerk away. “Yes.”
The woman smiles with unnervingly sharp, pointed teeth. “Good.”
It takes a second for the pain to register; when it does, the notebook in the demon’s hand is already splashed with Eddie’s blood. He gives a pained whimper as he recognizes the pain of the wound on his arm, and begins hyperventilating the longer it grows, reaching up his arm, slicing into his muscle. His body tenses up and starts to shake, her grip on his arm disturbingly strong.
When she lets go, he curses and glances down to find a new mark on his arm. A black inked tattoo of a swarm of bats.
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“So… you fought the forces of evil by playing Metallica?”  
“Well, it made sense at the time.”
Teeth dug into the plush skin of your bottom lip, you suppress another giggle as you sweep your fingers through Eddie’s hair, pushing his bangs back away from his face and letting them stick up into the air as you release them. He has a tiny scar on his forehead, just shy of his hairline, which you never noticed before now. You want to kiss it.
Instead, you trace it with your fingers. Eddie’s chin rests on your stomach, his eyes dark and wanting as they gaze up at your face. He has the prettiest eyelashes you think you’ve ever seen, and he bats them at you like he means to use them for your demise.
He lays between your legs on the couch. You’d moved there naturally, with his hands coaxing you and yours pulling him like a life raft. It isn’t easy, having the contents of someone’s life– two years’ worth of it– dumped into your head all at once. When he said he was going to give you the truth, he quite literally gave it to you. Directly. Into your brain.
He gave you everything, from the time that he made his deal, all the way up to his death. You saw him forming the Hellfire Club only a few months after the deal was initially made, and watched as it evolved into a gaggle of friends that he cared for and loved. And you saw the way that he protected them until the very end, when he played the greatest rock concert ever given. 
“You were so sweet, baby,” you whisper, with a tightness in your throat that tries to constrict the flow of air from getting out. 
“Wonder what happened.” You bop him on the shoulder with your palm and watch his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Hey, I mean. You don’t sit through torture seminars in Hell without getting a little bit screwy on your way out.”
“They have seminars there?”
“Are you kidding?” Eddie snorts, his eyes lighting up briefly with a little bit of fire. “There’s a whole circle of Hell that’s just one big long TimeShares seminar. I’ve been to it. Probably the most horrible thing I had to experience before I could go off and start making deals. They use it as training.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“It is fucked up. It’s Hell, and I’m a salesman. Arthur Miller should have written something about that.”  
“So… does God exist?”
“Oh, sure. Lots of gods. My favorite one is Hades. Cool guy. He runs Hell– the Underworld. Same thing. Persephone is kind of intimidating, though. Don’t get on her bad side.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “Pretty much any mythological figure you can think of exists on some plane of the Otherworld. Think of… gods and angels as my coworkers, in different departments. Maybe I don’t like all of them, but I work with them.”
“The Otherworld is a department store?”
“Precisely.”
Your fingers fumble with the collar of his shirt and hook around the metal chain he wears around his neck. “Can I ask you a serious question?”
His eyes bore into yours. “Anything you want.”
“How many, um–” Your eyes flutter when he shifts, and your fingers dip beneath the collar of his shirt just enough to feel the burn of his skin there– “how many deals have you made?” 
“Including you,” he says, heaving a sigh that you can feel expand in his chest, “three. There was Charlotte, in ‘91, and then Adrian, in ‘99. Neither of them held up their end of the deal.”
“The… the full moon?” You can’t imagine how it could be that much of a sacrifice, being required to sleep with him once a month. You’re so pent up, so eager to do it already that the notion that someone wouldn’t seems absurd to you.
Eddie nods. “You don’t hold up your end of the deal… the contract is up. And then Hell comes to collect.”
You let that information hang in the air between you. You stare at it, the empty space over his head, as you try to process it in the silence that follows. “Quick way to an early grave?”
“Happened to me,” he mutters. “Forgot to prick my finger and rub it on a napkin during all that mess, fighting for my life. If you can believe it.”
There’s an unspoken air of heaviness in the room– the knowledge that he died far too young, protecting his friends with the talent he sold his soul to have. Far too quickly to make selling his soul even worth it in the long run. It weighs on you, pressing down on your lungs at the same time as Eddie’s weight presses in between your hips.
Your own rite looms over you, just a few days away. Something in your gut tells you that Eddie is giving you this– the honest truth– so you know what you’re in for. You promised him you wouldn’t run away. 
You sold your soul and promised that you’d meet his demands if he met yours; you never expected that it would get to this point. That you’d be lying here, with him curled between your legs, and you’d have to accept that the attraction you feel towards him isn’t just due to the terms of the deal anymore. 
You know him, now. Or, at least, you know him a fair bit better than you did.
You tilt your head, realizing something out of the blue. “You didn’t have to make my deal include the sex.”
“I never claimed to not be a pervert, sweetheart.” He flashes you a sharp grin. “I am your average horny little devil, you know.”
“And you didn’t have to mark me with your name,” you point out, with a note of curiosity in your voice. “Your demon didn’t.”
Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, but that’s ‘cause I’m disgustingly obsessed with you and need you to be all mine, so.”
Your heart flutters at that, singing along to the tune of some stupid love song you haven’t heard in a long time. You hum, holding Eddie’s face in your hands. His eyes flick down to your lips, and then back up to meet your gaze. 
“I still think you’re sweet,” you tell him earnestly.
“You think I’m sweet?” He parrots, his hand sliding up the curve of your thigh and over your hip, his fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. He looks incredulous, like he doesn’t really believe you.
“I mean, sweet like a feral dog I have on a leash who’s out for everyone’s blood except mine. Y’know.”
He grins wickedly, a deadly twinkle in his eye as he shifts further down, his head lowering toward where your shirt bunches up around your waist, exposing a sliver of your stomach. You shudder as his hot breath hits your skin. “Is this sweet?” 
Eddie presses a lingering kiss onto the soft skin just above your navel. You sigh, your fingers sliding through his hair and gripping at the roots, and he pauses. His breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of your hands in his hair, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he hovers there, with his lips pressed softly to your stomach.
He puffs out his cheeks and blows a raspberry.
“Eddie!” you squeal, trying to get away from him as he cackles, holding you hostage to his assault. You kick your legs and manage to squirm until you throw the both of you off of the couch, rolling with him onto the floor. 
Dante gets up from his spot at the end of the couch and disappears through the wall like an apparition. He tends to disappear off into the aether at random times, only to reappear later, whenever he’s hungry or if you call him. You guess that life as a hellhound is busy work. Or, maybe he’s just sick of you and Eddie being revoltingly touchy-feely in front of him.
“I take it back! I take it back, you little fuck–” 
“Can’t take it back!” He rolls with you gripping onto your kicking legs until you come to a stop beside the coffee table, straddling his hips. You sit back on your heels to glare down at him, but he’s still chuckling. His eyes twinkle in the low light of your living room. “No takesies-backsies.”
This position is… too familiar. It’s intimate– it’s like you’re two normal lovers on an autumn afternoon, kicking around and doing stupid shit and just enjoying each other’s company. 
Something is changing. No matter how sexually charged the relationship has been until now, something feels different. It’s in the way he looks up at you like you hung the moon. It’s in the way you lean forward and trace his lower lip with the tip of your finger, humming to yourself all the while.
Eddie stares directly into your eyes as he slowly opens his mouth and takes your finger between his teeth, his lips curving up into a mischievous smile. 
“No,” you sing at him, soft but stern like he’s a misbehaving pet. “Open.” 
He blinks, and releases your finger with a curious expression. You lean further down, nearly nudging your nose with his as your fingertip strokes gently down his extended tongue, his hot breath coming out gift wrapped with a sigh. Eddie snakes his arms around your waist as you replace your finger with your own tongue, sealing your mouth against his.
Handsy. You guess that’s what you can call him– you haven’t kissed him like this before, soft and sensual and unrushed. While his tongue works against yours in a way that has your mind reeling, his hands wander down to cup your ass and squeeze, until you squeak against his mouth and lurch against his touch. 
The thing about this is… well. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him anymore. Is he your patron demon? Is he your boyfriend? Infernal demon boyfriend with a sweet streak that only you get to see? 
Every nerve in your body is on fire, and he’s seemingly happy to drive you crazy while you try your best not to grind down onto him. It’s all a little bit too much for you to process right now– with the way things are going, you’re wondering if you’re set for life. Who the fuck is going to compare to a demon, now that you have one? What human person will ever match up? 
“I think you’ve ruined me for everyone else,” you whisper conspiratorially, letting your lips drag against his.
“Tell you a secret?” Eddie’s voice is warm in the back of his throat. He peers at you through his lashes, eyes heavy-lidded and twinkling with the barest flicker of a flame in his deep brown irises. “That was my plan all along.”
“You monster.”  
“You got me all figured out.” He snickers once, dimples indenting rosy cheeks that are much too pretty to belong to a demon, but you’re starting to suspend your disbelief. Eddie’s laughter dies in his chest when your mouth attaches to his neck; a hollow noise takes its place, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it down.
Hands hiking his t-shirt up over his stomach, you’re inching your way down his body like you have a plan, and Eddie’s frozen beneath you like he’s trying to figure out what it is. It takes him just a couple seconds, until your tongue connects with the trail of hair running down his stomach, and then he smirks knowingly.
“Oh, I see,” he hums, his eyebrows raising as you lick your way down toward his belt. “You’re a keen little thing, aren’t you? Don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Shut up, Eddie.” It doesn’t come out as sharp as you intend for it to, because your hands are fiddling with his belt. You pull it free from his jeans and fling it over the coffee table with more force than necessary.
“Buy my silence,” he mutters sarcastically with a shit-eating grin. A playful glimmer sparkles in his eye as you curl your fingers into his waistband and tear at them, but he doesn’t move to help you at all. “Nine ninety-nine a month, with tax. Quick, before the rates go up.”  
You’re shaking your head, shooting him a caustic glare as your mouth finds the soft skin just beneath his waistline. You just want to get his pants off however you can– if you have to rip them off of him, so be it. 
“Oop– ten ninety-nine a month. Better think fast, baby.”
You yank them down his hips, just low enough that you can nuzzle and lick into the thick patch of hair over his groin. You breathe in the scent of his skin, lingering just beneath all his usual smoke. Warmth and salt, as though he’s real and not just the corporeal manifestation of a spirit. 
“...E-eleven– ninety-ni– hmm.” Eddie’s giddy voice dies as a purr in his throat, his head rocking back against the floor. He gasps when drool rolls off of your parted lips, wetting the skin of his hip just before you suck a hickey there. He squirms. “Fuck it. You get it for free.”
“Just wanna suck you off,” you whisper, a little more slack jawed and unhinged than you were before. You suck in a deep breath and lave your tongue over the base of his cock, as it peeks out over the waist of his jeans. “Wanna taste you everywhere, baby.”
“Christ– M’not gonna stop you. Go ahead, take what you want, sweetheart.” 
Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hips jumping when you lift his cock out of his pants. Warmth settles in the pit of your stomach, pulsing between your legs when you wrap your fingers around it. It’s so much better than in your dream– it’s thicker, massive, the vein along the bottom pulsing in your hand. 
You spit onto it, mixing your saliva with the bead of precum gathered on the head. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Eddie.”
He gasps, kicks his hips up into your fist. “Y–you’re so fucki– hhng–”
You shush him, and look up as you trail your tongue along his shaft, feeling him twitch against you. Mouthing kisses along it, wet and soft, you suck just a bit with each one to watch his chest leap with his breath. “I wanna take you to pieces.”
“Shit–” Eddie lifts his head to gaze down at you, eyes glassy, lips red and parted as he pants. “You’re gorgeous. Oh, honey…”
Eddie moans when you slide his head into your mouth, letting your tongue glide gently over his slit. His hand flies down, tangling into your hair, the metal of his rings digging into your scalp.
You open your mouth and take him in as far as he’ll go, until he hits the back of your throat and you choke. 
“Such a good fucking girl for me,” Eddie breathes, his hand on the back of your head grounding you like an anchor. “Just look at you, baby. So fuckin’ perfect, god.”  
Actually, you feel like a mess, with spit dribbling down your chin and eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat. Sniffling from the tears and the lack of air, gagging on his cock. Drunk on sin and the taste of his flesh.
You imagine that’s probably what he considers perfection, though.
He stiffens when you swallow around him, your hands wrapping around his hips in an attempt to hold him down. Eddie makes a soft sound in his throat– something you might mistake as submissive, if his hand in your hair weren’t pushing you harder down onto his cock, forcing you to gag on him. The tightening of your throat around him is enough to make him twitch in your mouth. 
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck–”  
Lips dripping saliva, your throat flexes just before you pull off with a wet gasping noise that makes Eddie curse and tighten his fist in your hair. You can’t be coy, can’t pretend like you aren’t fucking wrecked; you’re a mess of spit and tears, the salt of his precum on your tongue and in the back of your throat. 
Dipping your head, you nuzzle down to suck at his balls. Slick lips latching onto soft skin, suckling just enough to make him howl and buck his hips up against your hold. You lap at him with your tongue, hearing his moan crackle in his throat with a prideful grin. 
You gaze up at him with glassy eyes when he reaches down with one big hand to fist his swollen cock. Rings glint in the light and catch on his skin with a sharp edge, contrasting your light touch on his balls, making him flex his hips up into his own hand. 
You’re mesmerized, watching his hand work in front of your face, with your spit and his fluids spilling over his knuckles. It kicks up a sticky, wet sound that makes something deep in your gut flutter.
“Open your mouth,” Eddie grits out, in such a commanding tone that you don’t even think to question him. You just do.
The muscles of his stomach tightens when he cums, his breath hitching on the inhale. Ropes of white spurt from his tip while he groans so loud it could rattle the ceiling. Some of it gets in your mouth, but most gets on your face– large drops on your cheeks, clinging to your lips and your chin. You moan when you lick the excess from your lips before you swallow, your eyes fluttering shut. 
“Fuckin– filthy little girl, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, and reaches forward to snatch your face with his wet fingers. His rings dig into your messy cheeks, smearing his cum across your skin. 
You gasp, your eyes flying open to meet his, as he grins evilly down at you. It makes you shudder, a moan caught in your throat. Your face burns. The mark on your wrist throbs in the shape of his name.
“Yeah, sweetheart. My dirty girl, all covered in my cum like that.” His thumb pets your cheek, sticky on your skin as he plays with it. “What a pretty fuckin’ painting.”
You whine as he pulls you upwards, clambering over his body. Your cunt throbs between your legs, and it turns worse when he yanks you toward his face. 
Eddie’s tongue drags up your cheek, licking his cum off of your face. It makes the blood rush beneath your skin, makes your body heat up with just how filthy it all truly is. He hums low, licking your mouth and letting the tip of his tongue catch on your teeth, leaving your skin wet and stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Hm,” he grunts after a moment, tilting his head as he looks at you. Your cheeks are pinched between his fingers, your lips puckered in a way that you’re sure isn’t very sexy, but he doesn’t seem deterred by it. Eddie cracks a grin and says, “No, I don’t think I’m very sweet. Tastes more umami.”
“Oh my god.” You bark a laugh, ripping your face away from his grip so you can roll off of him. 
Eddie snatches you before you can get away, pulling you down so that he can playfully bite at your cheek, giggling along with you. “No, don’t go baby, I gotta clean you up–”
“You’re obnoxious,” you cackle at him, letting him roll with you across the floor, feeling a sort of obsessive delight consume your voice. 
He smushes his face against yours, and you can feel his teeth as he grins, scraping your skin. There’s an undertone to your thoughts as he does, which makes your heart pound in your chest when you acknowledge it for what it is.
You love him. You love him. You love him.
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orengejoshi · 4 months ago
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Love you art. My favorite thing is definitely your coloring. Flug does give t boy swag. Hope to see more of your drawing soon. Out of curiosity what do you hope for season 2?
Thank youu🥺💜
I know what you meant but just the entire term "T boy swag" reminded me of my fav rapper who just goes by "T" and since I wanted to do that for a while anyway (his songtexts would resonate with Flug so much) I used this as an excuse to redraw one of his album covers, so I love that, I'm gonna steal that heheh
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(relatively unrelated for everyone except me lol but I always throw in some art when replying to asks)
umm yeah so... we're not even done with the first season, so idk. from S1-B I predict more of what we've had so far; more or less episodic comedy, slowly easing us into a connected plot. 6th episode already kinda introduced that.
it's gonna be one of those cartoons like TOH who start off silly and episodic in the first season and develop into a melodramatic serialized show from 2nd season onwards.
this is going to be an unpopular opinion but I actually do not 100% vibe with that, I prefer episodic cartoons like SpongeBob or South Park without overarching plot; comedy over drama. but it was always obvious that Villainous is gonna have a fuck ton of lore so I'm not disappointed.
my criticism rn is that I feel it's already way too many characters I'm sorry. it's getting pretty convoluted. I'm just not a fan of that but again pretty subjective. I can't bring myself to care for absolutely any character that we haven't seen animated yet. it's been too long for me to throw too many new characters in the mix, I've been nonstop hyperfixated since 7 years so I'm skeptical about changes.
as for the plot, I have no idea. we're in so early that I can't even imagine where this is gonna go.
for the end I wish that no ship with the main 3 becomes canon. it's just going to create fandom wars, just leave it open
I just want to see Flug happy...
I'll always just hope to get as much information about Flug as possible
definitely hope they explore Miss Heed's character too, as long as she doesn't end up with Flug l'm interested in her. I would like to see her getting worse (maybe switching sides?) before finally healing and learning to love herself
I want to know more about Goldheart and consequently about Flug's past
I wish for Demencia to snap out of her brainwash some day and learn about her past. I need Flug and Demencia to become real good friends and escape together with 505. I do NOT want them to become heroes but in order to find true happiness and peace they'll have to leave this place imo
but I think most of that is WAY in the future, this won't all happen in the 2nd season. but idk how long this series is gonna be, I doubt the crew even knows, so ye!
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ilanprofile · 8 months ago
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ILAN_PROFILE'S COMEDY / SLICE OF LIFE CARTOON GUIDE
Looking for Cartoons to Watch? Need a Guide for Animated Shows? Are you a Beginner or a Pro in watching TV shows? THIS ARE ALL THE COMEDY / SLICE OF LIFE CARTOONS I RECOMMEND!
About Each Section:
WATCH THIS: Shows I think are a MUST Watch for anybody getting into cartoons
NEW CARTOONS: Ongoing shows premiered in the past 2-3 years
STILL RELEVANT: Older shows / Already finished shows that still get a lot of attention nowdays
BONUS MENTIONS: Other Shows I havent watched that much of or arent as widely known as the others above
STORYDRIVEN: Fully serialized shows with lot of conitnuity
SEMI-EPISODIC: Shows with an ongoing story but also have self contained arcs
EPISODIC: Shows with minimal continuity, you can watch basically any episode
DISCLAIMER: I tried to limit myself to only 1-2 shows of each IP, UNLESS each of them feels too different from one or another (Like The Looney Tunes Show vs the classic Looney Tunes Cartoons) or you need to watch all shows together to get the full narrative (Ben 10 -> Alien Force -> Ultimate Alien -> Omniverse)
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maguro13-2 · 7 months ago
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Me : No dice. No comedy. I cannot believe that I posted something hostile, the I'm really the most worst imbecile that has ever been an absolute zero in my life! Oh I'm such a frigging loser! Why am I so bad at being a good person! What's wrong with me, World! WHY AM I STILL SUCH A LOSER!?! Those thoughts were right! I'm a failure! An absolute zero! And now they think I'm full of garbage. So that's just plain stupid, even I'm still a zero...and me for being a total loser! It's not my problem, it's humanity's, well, least is mine by the way.
[Spell by Lama]
Me : But still...I have got something for one last idea...if these fools just think that I could fix my only ways of prove something that is comedy gold! I promise that I won't do it again! I'm gonna make the biggest joke of all! (starts typing on the computer) Get ready world, you're about to be laugh at the biggest joke that I have ever made!
*one hour of creating a joke later..."
Me : (triumphantly) Yes! Everybody loved my joke! My script is perfectedly A-OKAY! Although I thought making a script joke was seriously a bad idea on social media, but this is perfect! Who's laughing now, world? I finally got what you deserved! Now then, I can accept my long term of sensation of peace and quiet! Don't believe in anything, just make it yourself a complication. This is truly perfect.
*Door banging*
Me : Who's there!? Oh, hey, it's that computer girl from Japan, Hi ya, Lain Iwakura! Uhh, why are you looking at me, like that? What's Deathscythe's weapon doing in your hand, girl? You're freaking me out with that. No seriously, you're creeping me out like that! No, stop!
*blows landing*
Me : (screaming in pain) Ahh! Ooh! Ugh! Yah! Ayeeee!!! HUWAAAAAAAAHHHH!
*door opening*
Lain : (to the viewers) Well, I do hope that he finally will learn his lesson to avoid social media. Always be something that isn't as trolls. Anyways, I gotta return this back to the Cyberspace in order to erase all of Darkside Death's files. Can't wait, for another season to come. I wonder what's the biggest joke of all. Oh yeah, I forgot something. It's called "Don't Mess with the wrong guy". I clearly figured that one out.
Me : (moans in pain)
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