#but i swear..... it's gonna give you so many brain worms..... it gets so fucking good......

[lloydfrontera]

I know zero things about the sequel other than what you post (lol) but I heard this song and thought perhaps youd like it for cpsm llojavi (￣▽￣)

Bless the Telephone by Labi Siffre

you just casually dropped the most devastatingly sweet song in my inbox like that. why would yo do this to me i'm fucking sobbing oh my god i'm not even kidding i'm so distraught right now

like. god. just,,, the entire fucking song,,,

It's nice to hear your voice again I've waited all day long Even wrote a song for you It's strange, the way you make me feel With just a word or two I'd like to do the same for you It's nice to hear you say "hello" And "how are things with you? I love you" But very soon it's time to go An office job to do While I'm here writing songs for you Strange How a phone call can change your day Take you away Away From the feeling of being alone Bless the telephone It's nice, the way you say my name Not very fast or slow, just soft and low The same as when you tell me how you feel I feel the same way, too I'm very much in love with you I'm very much in love with you

i'm,,,, this is,, literally javier,,,, what the hell,,,, how am i supposed to recover after this,,,, someone sedate me i can't do it anymore

[dw-writes]

Once Bitten, Twice Angry - Miguel O'Hara x Anti Hero!Reader

So. This isnt planned to be a fic - in fact Im writing it on my phone (which is something I NEVER do). But the idea came to me today and its itching the inside of my skull so I decided to write it down. Its silly - just an thought experiment to get the Across the Spiderverse brain worms out.

This isnt intended to be a romantic fic, either. At the point of writing this author blurb, i dont even know how Miguel fits into it beyond the main idea of him being venomous.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think

This isnt edited, and was typed out pretty quickly on a phone. I apologize ;;

WARNINGS: Swearing; Violence

"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here." The bank robber - his name was Ryan, you remembered, and he was a pretty decent guy, just down on his luck too many times - nodded and mumbled behind the collect of irridecent that coated his mouth. You propped your foot on the side of another robber - Julian, Julius, Juli-something, he never really talked that much to you - as he tried to squirm towards his fallen weapon. "It's weird, right?" you mused, "One day, I'm the Black Cat, Nueva York's greatest burglar, the next I'm--" you cut yourself off as you hooked a foot around Juli-such-and-such's hip and tossed him across the bank floor. He released a muffled shout.

"Okay, so, what do you think of Moon Weaver?" you asked, "Too much?"

"Ain't there a Moon Knight?" someone in the bank quipped.

You twisted around, snapping your fingers down on your new, and very much stolen, web shooter. The man crumbled back against a cabinet. He was a banker, and annoying during robberies.

"I didn't ask you? I still don't know if you're gonna be saved by me yet," you replied. You turned back to Ryan. "No Moon Weaver?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"Damn," you sighed, "Anyway, I was telling this to my therapist up on the seventh floor - you should see her by the way, she's great - and we were going over how this started, but since you so rudely interrupted my therapy session, you get to hear it." You crouched in front of him. "Don't worry, you're not gonna remember a thing anyway. I'll make sure of it."

Ryan didn't reply.

You stood back up. "So, let's start at the beginning." You waved your hand as you paced away to another bank robber, kneeling to scoop up his limp ankle. "Remember that heist I was doing a few months ago? Priceless heirloom, lots of money, you know how it is. I was on the job, like normal, when that fucking Spiderman shows up." You dropped the man's ankle and crouched in front of Ryan again. "Have you ever seen him without his mask? He's kinda hot, but in that infuriating "I really wanna punch you" kinda way?"

Ryan merely stared at you. He wasn't a very good audience.

You huffed. "Anyway. He showed up, we did the whole song and dance - the chase, the quips, the obvious flirting with a good layer of sexual tension - and I give him the slip." You frowned at your own memory of that night, planting your fists on your hips. "Except, I didn't. He caught me around the corner, and we went down, grappling. I think I hit him a little too hard in a place that I shouldn't've - that's rude in a fight, you know - because he yelled and suddenly bit my shoulder." You turned back around. "He bit me! Like a four year old!"

You thought Ryan mumbled something that sounded like, "Seriously?" but it was too hard to make out.

So, you replied with, "Yeah! And I went home, and I started feeling weird." Then, you crouched again, your fingers dancing over your knees. "And you know how we all kinda know that he's a weird little freak that's, like, part spider, or werewolf, or vampire, or something freaky? Yeah, I think whatever it is gave me powers," you whispered.

Ryan's eyes went wide.

You shrugged and stood, cupping your fingers around his head. "Yeah, it was weird. And now, here we are!" Your fingers tickled as a surge of electricity arched away from them and through his skull. "Not that you'll remember it," you mumbled.

The robber thrashed as you stepped away, then slumped to the ground. You watch him for a moment, frowning, waiting to make sure he was still breathing. When he groaned, you stepped back.

Then, you snapped your fingers, turning around to face the whole group of thieves you had piled in a corner. "Oh, what about Night Spider? That's pretty cool!" you asked.

"It's pretty," came a delayed reply. You looked over your shoulder. It was a customer, one of the few that was still curled up on the floor.

You smiled, and bowed at the waist. "Why thank you," you preened, standing, and waving your arm towards the door, "What're you all still waiting around here for? Get outta here!" You watched as the customers scrambled to their feet. "And tell the cops it was Night Spider that helped you!" You backed away, eyeing an exit you normally took to escape a bank with a similar layout. "Not Spiderman."

You bolted as the cops rushed into the building.

Miguel watched from atop the roof across the street, an annoyed scowl etched deep into his face. He knew he shouldn't have bitten you that night - but how could he have known you'd have such a reaction?!

And now, you went from being a pain in his side to a fucking problem.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, swearing under his breath.

Lyla would never let him live it down.

[itsyagurlchip]

hot takes, small details or personal headcanons you have in your au?

you. you are my reasonnnnnnN THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK IT'S GONNA BE ONE OF MY LONGEST ANSWERS. VEEEEEEE THANK YOU <3333 (I'm sorry if none of these headcannons match up with any previous ones i've made, simply imagining them as people makes my brain run on 1000)

(me now) Umm. Seeing this is finished you know you better prepared to sit down and read.

Keep in mind that reader is a child! They will not be the average y/n, she won't try and solve everyone's problems, and they're still learning and growing as a person! (That's what this whole fic is for-)

okokookookkokokokok these aren't all relevant to the Au per say, but this does apply to the plot and some of the lore for the fic.

im sure you saw the post- but I headcanon the skeles to be able to pop out their eyes. and at first it seemed random- but Papyrus has fucking eyes in the game (!?!) and so does sans, so why tf not?

Now a thing that I do not headcannon is their bones being able to pop out. I don't have any reason, I just don't like the idea of their limbs being Legos (but fsr eyes r ok?)

They do have amazing dance moves tho (Sans gets a lil zesty when he does the worm).

Everything in this universe is like a sitcom, and while predictable things happen, it's not in the usual way it would.

Ebbot is in New York. (you know why, and if you don't be prepared for a particular chapter.)

In this universe, pollution doesn't exist as much as it does in the real world. Give these guys a chance to see those beautiful ass stars.

Dynamics I'd Like to Explore:

Horror and reader.

I would love to explore that "Mama bear" dynamic that Horror could have without dumbing him down to just "hungry" "traumatized" and "comfort".

I want to show how being in a starvation crisis still affects him, while also wanting someone to take care of.

I think reader would appreciate a person who always makes sure that they eat, because they didn't have that as often in the program they were previously in.

I also really really really want to make Horror very disturbing and unapproachable, so it would make him and reader need their characters to develop for their relationship to actually bloom.

I also wanna see him do odd things, like grinding his teeth to a piercing shriek, or putting things in his skull to remember for later, and reader's reactions and approaches to them.

Sans/Papyrus and reader

Ah yes, they will be a joy to write.

Sans and reader's relationship will come from a place of mutual respect almost? While also blatantly disrespecting each other at the same time???

They dont really do much together, other than chill.

And in the small moments that they actually do things together, they don't actually talk much (in a serious way) at all.

Papyrus and reader start it off rocky a bit, because of the surface level reason for why she was adopted.

Papyrus tries to engage reader in activities that he likes, but every try leads to some kind of avoidance or lack of enthusiasm.

(insert sans threat here)

But after having a deep conversation with each other, they become the bestest of friends!

Payarus hypes up reader every chance he gets, and reader makes so many gifts for him that his ego just can't take it!

I feel like the three of them together would be so wholesome, whether it's Sans reading Papyrus and reader a bedtime story, or if they all go shopping together.

There's never a dull moment with these two!

Swapfell gold Sans and Papyrus

LET THEM BE WINE AUNT BESTIES PLESSSSS

LET THEM TALK SHIT ABOUT THEIR BROTHERS WHILE ABSOLUTELY LOVING THEM TO DEATH.

They always walk in the room stunning, Swapfell Sans won't ever let Paps walk in the room with rags while he's there.

Both of them enjoy those live-laugh-love type decorations at hobby lobby, and always decorate the house up like a doll.

They curse without actually cursing and it's so funny.

"AW CORNUTS!!"

"YOU BITTER HARLOT"

"Outrageously strong-stenched sinner."

"Papyrus I swear to all stars shining if you do not get your scraggly pelvis in this room your femur will cease to exist."

Mostly a crack dynamic, but that's what this fic is for.

Sans and Papyrus

A lot of this is half-personal and half-out-of-spite-in-the-fandom-because-i-hate-the-way-they-are-sometimes-portrayed-in-fanfiction.

Papyrus calls Sans "lazy" in a lighthearted way instead of actually believing as such. He knows that Sans could do many things, but he won't do them because of his mental health.

I like to think that since Papyrus has such great control over his magic, he's very much patient as well when it comes to people.

Especially Sans, because he of all people needs it the most.

Sans loves his brother, but not to a possessive extent. Yes, he will kill anyone and everyone for the coolest guy on Earth, but not without reason.

They take care of each other as much as they can actually.

They also have more complications other than "just keeping secrets". It's actually communication as a whole.

Something that I will not explain because it's a headcannon and not my story yet👍

Red and Sans

I feel like they'd be assholes together. That's all I need.

They probably make card houses out of boredom, but with packs of condiments.

They hate each other at first, but neither of them want to fight so it's passive aggressive comments between the two.

Imagine two Loona's (helluva boss) in one room. One emotionally stumped and the other too laid-back to do anything about it.

Suddenly the hostility goes away and everyone else is confused.

Very nice.

Fresh and Reader

Okay I admit this one is purely crack.

I need them to go to Chuckie Cheese and make fun of two year olds when they lose a game.

I want them to attack Karens in the parking lot with possessed furbies.

I want Fresh to scare reader with an ominous statement about her soul and go back to living life free.

LOOK INTO MY EYES!!!

I want reader to believe he's not real and only a part of the fever dreams she has since the world changed.

I NEED FRESH TO PLAY ALONG BC HE THINKS ITS FUNNY

Dream and Nightmare.

Most of these headcannons are inspired/from Ano (@/signanothername). So if my brain is rotted no it's not.

Their relationship is...complicated.

At first, they sabotage each other for fun and competition.

But next thing you know! They're full blown fighting, throwing jabs at each other physically and verbally.

Most people like to think that the two fight each other because they represent and protect different and opposite emotions.

But they fight because they are mentally teenagers, who are SIBLINGS<

It's very tiring to experience and be apart of, because you never know what the two will do in a room alone.

Coming from experience, when I would want my sibling to feel something that I was trying to get through to them, I would say something that hurts. Like really bad.

Dream and Nightmare remind each other of their past mistakes with aggressive and ingenuine kindness when no one's looking.

While Dream isn't an asshole per say, he just has a hard time keeping himself in check around Nightmare. Other than that he's the kindest soul.

Nightmare is an asshole, but he doesn't make any move to "confront" Dream or make a meaningful conversation with him. He still has regrets and animosities from the past, but won't intentionally heal from that.

^^These all will contribute to main plot and subplot. Nothing will be completely resolved, but each relationship will be expressed with more realistic situations rather than "they feel this way because everyone else says so." (cough cough fandom cough cough)

Every other dynamic like Reader and Gaster, or Star/Bad Sanses will be explored as well- those are just the main ones I'm excited for. Of course, I cant fit them all in (because it'll just be run-on words with no actual plot), but I can try to give everyone a situation where they can interact with each other.

Unfortunately, Swapfell Gold won't be in this story at all- only Horrortale and Underfell and the usual multiverse deities. I may not be able to fit them in one fic, but I can make side content and my own fanart to satisfy myself. (WHY WONT MY BLORBOS FIT IN!!!)

Sans

Sans actually does sleep in my au, probably too much really. He uses it as a means of escape because it's hard for him to come to terms with "no more resets"

Frisk isn't the same anymore, and throughout the story he'll get more and more paranoid.

Sans will trip Gaster any chance that he's given.

I like to headcannon that Sans doesn't have an obsession with ketchup, and it's moreso "gasp! the ketchup guy!" type thing. I also like to believe that the only reason why he can drink so much ketchup like that is because of people's reactions.

Sans is a comedian at heart, so he will do/say most things that people consider outrageous; hence the ketchup thing.

I like to think that he only pursued physics because of his dad, rather than mathematics like he initially wanted to do.

Sans hates slime and the grease it leaves on his phalanges as well as the sound it gives off.

He'd probably bring ketchup popsicles to the function.

Papyrus

Imagine that he can 'port' as well, leaving Gaster the only one who cannot. He just doesn't do it because the "void" makes him uncomfortable.

You could call him the "emotionally intelligent one" despite him not understanding a goddamn thing. He's just good at solving problems with patience.

He can see how someone feels, but he won't use that to read the room and understand what to do and what not to do.

He doesn't understand some social rules, like "comparing yourself to others for competition" and "tips for a cup of coffee"

It's confusing he thinks. Which can also lead him to misreading someone's emotions.

If you open up his closet there's a trick wall in it. And behind it, there's a dart board with Gaster's face on it. He's still mad at him, but won't let it show as to keep the family as peaceful as possible.

Sometimes when he's out with Sans, Papyrus would grab him and hold him under his arm and just carry him like that.

He is actually a pretty decent cook. And Sans doesn't lie to him about that.

Gaster

He actually falls when Sans trips him. It's funny as hell.

Since we don't know much about Gaster, this personality is kind of all over the place.

As I've stated before, he is morally ambiguous, and is comfortable with justifying things that seem wrong to most people.

Like cutting holes in his hands to get children instead of getting a wife.

On the other hand, he finds most arguments that humans have tedious, annoying, and easily solvable.

Or testing on a subject's soul who's figured out how to reset time itself instead of asking various questions.

He probably takes the top off of muffins and puts them back in just to spite Sans.

He loves his sons, but doesn't have a way to show them without making them feel awkward.

Despite him being open minded on human affairs, he can be very closed-minded when it comes to new things like routine, emotional intelligence, and boundaries.

Reader

Reader believes that the only reason why she was adopted is because Sans wasn't okay. Like she was supposed to "fix" him in some way, and kind of resents Papyrus because of that.

She's just a kid! How are they gonna help a stinky blob of depression?

Otherwise, it's probably the best they've ever lived.

When there's chaos, reader will remind Sans how "good" they're being and expect a reward when it's over.

She stims by rubbing her knuckles vertically across the joint of her arm (like me, tehe), and picks at her hangnails when she's under stress (also like me).

Granted, she doesn't remember memories from when her parents were alive, but right now she feels like she's in a place where she belongs. Like people actually want them.

Reader grew up in a place where they were older than everyone else, so they were immediately dubbed "older sibling".

Despite the wholesome sentiment, the way those kids would treat her would be toxic, but a small part of her still misses them.

Cannot match clothes to save her life (she walks out the door looking horrendous AFTER Papyrus gave her an outfit-)

She's fine with it though, "No aesthetic can fit me anyway."

Okay I'm done y'all, sorry for putting you through that torture.

I don't think you guys understand how long I want this fanfiction to be. Like bro IM PLANNING CHAPTERS NOW. I know I was trashing on the "fandom", but do know that whatever opinion you have is fine with me. I just have different ones and I prefer to express that through writing rather than arguing/causing mess.

And reminder: THESE.ARE.HEADCANNONS. If you agree, that's fine, if you don't that's also fine. But please do not come to my comments with your fists up. I'd rather discuss more headcannons for variety/diversity rather than claiming that a character can only be represented in one way. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk :))

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi @acesgarden

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

[notenderlaith]

Pictures of Wilbur living my dream because I can't

Just fucking look at him, literally in the lime light. Because he deserves it, because he's worked for it and its paying off like it should. But I can't look at it without this burn that fills me with jealousy for him and rage for myself. I don't know what it is about him, how are we so similar in a way I can't describe. There's something about the way we look at the world, I swear we share the same set of lenses and such similar limitations, yet there he is... and here I am.

I know I'm young, I know he's had it rough, I know, I know. But it's not due to the lack of consideration that I feel this way, its just that I know that I don't deserve that. No matter how much I wish I should. I think about every time I tried to write a song and record it but failed oh so horribly because it just sounded like shit. Pure fucking racket. I think about every damn talent show where I got so many pats on the back but when it came down to the leaderboard I was no where to be seen. I think of every "You just need a little work" and every second chair in middle school band class. How many of those will there be? But worse, how many worse things are there that I have yet to be told?

How many times will I be told by other musicians that I don't make good or real music? How many times will I pour my heart out to my best friends and be told about how I'm not gonna make it? That I'm too ambitious and that I should quit? How many hate comments will I get on a small youtube post with only two likes. How many times will I throw my mic in the back of my closet and tell myself I'll never pick it up again, only to pull it out after a rough night? How many before I'm up there to?

I swear that for every listen one of Lovejoy's songs get, I feel a worm in my gut just chewing away. All the little burrows between my intestines and heart. These worms push on my lungs everyday. The worms wrap around my arteries and my legs go weak, I stagger along every cracked and grass infested sidewalk in the delta. How many worms until I make it? How many more until I strum them all out of me, one by one in harmony with a sea of people who love my passion as much as I do? Or how many more until there's nothing left of me? How long will it take for the worms to eat my eyes out and take away those lenses we share.

I know I need to work more and harder. I need to push harder and harder until I make it, because that is how you make it. You just keep going forward with hope. I have hope but I need to find out what it is that itches everybody. What is everybody's worms. What is eating holes into each of our palms? How long will I take to realize that there will be no miracle? There will be no random natural talent on an instrument I've never seen before. I won't find a way to sing thus far, unknown to the world. I will never play a chord in just the right way, and I know that. So what is it that drives me forward. What about my passion has been dragging me at the end of its hitch. Why can't I get off? There is something that give me hope. No matter what instrument, song, genre, musician, no matter how I've changed I've always wanted to be a musician. WHY

Dear worms, let me achieve my dream or let me be free. PLEASE, let me leave this, draw a line between pleasure and pain. Separate my dreams from reality or make them collide. My heart needs rest, my lungs need to expand, I need to untie my brain, out of the loops and knots.

[sugar-omi]

(swiftie asker) EEEEEE YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY IT MAKES ME THAT YOU LIKE ALL MY SILLY SWIFTPILLED BRAIN WORMS… all your responses to asks that i’ve seen over the months i’ve been here are always hard-hitting and boy oh BOY did these hit me hard kajkjdsjfld so all of this to say. thank you for letting me ramble like this and actually taking my ideas and running with them??? i literally feel so honored aksjksfjd,, so please, feel free to match my writing freak and yap along with me because it’s always an absolute pleasure to see what you have to say about my ideas ehhehehe

PLEASEEEE THE DLC ALWAYS HURTS ME SO BAD, BECAUSE ONCE THE SILK-LINED CIVILITY IS GONE ALL HE CAN BE TOWARDS YOU IS BITTER, BECAUSE IT SEEMS THAT’S THE ONLY WAY YOU’LL LISTEN TO HIM EVEN IF IT’S NOT WHAT HE WANTS. AND WHEN THE DAY’S DONE HE KNOWS HE’D STILL RUN TO YOU IF YOU SO MUCH AS LIFTED A HAND TO BECKON HIM, KNOWING HE WOULD FIND YOU NO MATTER HOW LONG IT’S BEEN EVEN IF YOU WOULDN’T DO THE SAME GODDDDD IT HITS YA RIGHT IN THE JUGULAR

no because . the other night i was listening to the anthology and ‘peter’ started playing, and HOLY FUCK IF I WASN’T BAWLING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE BAXTER /IMMEDIATELY/ CAME TO MIND??? BECAUSE NOT ONLY DOES THE SONG ITSELF TIE INTO AND SORT OF CONCLUDE THE FOLKLORE LOVE TRIANGLE…BUT IN THE CONTEXT OF OLBA IT’D BE MC MOVING ON AND STILL BEING IN LOVE/WANTING BAXTER IN THEIR LIFE BUT BEING UNABLE TO WAIT ANY LONGER…because they spent five years hoping he’d call, and they’re just so /tired/ of it — they can give him their patience, but they can’t fix him…and they won’t waste their life trying.

“and i won’t confess that i waited, but i let the lamp burn” = mc trying to reach out and willing baxter to come back… “as the men masqueraded, i hoped you’d return” = mc wanting him to come back even as life goes on and they keep on keeping on… “with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’ve learned” = the fantasy of baxter finally putting down roots and /staying/ for once… “cause love’s never lost when perspective is earned” = mc still holding on to the memories despite realizing what baxter was really doing and how much they were hurt by it… “AND YOU SAID YOU’D COME AND GET ME BUT YOU WERE 25” = MC WAITING ALL THAT TIME FOR HIM AND HE NEVER SHOWED, BECAUSE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TEMPORARY… “AND THE SHELF LIFE OF THOSE FANTASIES HAS EXPIRED” = MC NO LONGER BEING ABLE TO SUSTAIN THEIR LOVE FOR HIM WITH JUST THE MEMORIES HE LEFT THEM… “LOST TO THE LOST BOYS CHAPTER OF YOUR LIFE” = MC AND THE REST OF SUNSET BIRD BEING JUST ANOTHER CHAPTER IN BAXTER’S LIFE TO BE SHELVED AND TUCKED AWAY IN FAVOR OF THE NEXT PAGES… “FORGIVE ME PETER, PLEASE KNOW THAT I TRIED TO HOLD ON TO THE DAYS WHEN YOU WERE MINE” = MC SEEMINGLY BEING THE ONLY ONE STILL HOLDING ON TO THOSE SUMMER DAYS LONG GONE, AND FUCK IF THEY DIDN’T /TRY/… “BUT THE PERSON WHO SITS BY THE WINDOW HAS TURNED OUT THE LIGHT” = MC FINALLY BEING FINISHED WITH WAITING AND BEING UNABLE TO KEEP HOLDING OUT FOR SOMEONE THAT WON’T SHOW… can you tell i’m absolutely fucking insane about tswift bridges. hhahhaha. i am so Normal and Ordinary about these songs i swear

good grief this message got long. i am So sorry for all the text i simply have many things to say and am the bearer of the curse (the curse being both olba hyperfixation and "swiftie since 2014" disease)

YESS I WOULD LOVE TO MATCH YOUR FREAK 🤭🤝🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

ALSO OMFG YOU REMINDED ME OF THE FIC I WROTE FOR ENGLISH.... I was your first idea but with derek.... and MC got tired of waiting on derek n ended up with cove. my teachers comment was so funny, he said he was hanging on the edge of his seat waiting for MC n derek to get together 😂

but I love the whole "I couldn't wait for you anymore" troupe with derek and baxter. it's so painful, but so true.

and omg I'm listening to Peter now and omfg.... my heart is on the FLOOR.

it's so baxter... "I thought it was just goodbye for now / you said you were gonna grow up and come find me"

MC holding onto the hope that he'd come back once he was ready for a serious relationship.

"when crossing your jet stream, we both did the best we could do, under the same moon" COMING BACK TOGETHER WHEN YOURE MARRYING COVE AND RECOGNIZING THAT YOU DID YOUR BEST TO "LOVE" EACH OTHER AND CHERISH YOUR TIME TOGETHER....

i cant help but wanna associate "words from the mouths of babies, oceans deep. but never to keep" with baxter because he is a babe. he's so handsome, so suave...

he never made promises, he knows he would be damned if he made promises he knew he wouldn't keep.

but when he smiles at you like that, holds your hand like that, kisses you so softly, that blush far too darling on his porcelain cheeks for your heart to not belong to him... how could you not think that this is love. and that him walking you to your door isn't a promise.

and when he smiles, so glad that you missed him when he suddenly came to let you know he's back from visiting a friend of his parents in the middle of the night. how could this not be more. how could this not be him gifting his heart to you on a fancy platter...

"please know i tried to hold on to the days you were mine" MC and baxter trying to hold onto the days they spent together, because even though baxter left and cruelly shrugged you off.. he cherished it so much.

fuck, he literally keeps the souvenir you get him/he buys himself in the tourism moment (I forget what it's called. i think that's it?)

you can't tell me he didn't look at the item and cry. I know I would. I know his heart clenched so tightly it took his breath away, I know his eyes stung and I know he guilt ate him up in all its gluttony and it swallowed him with a satisfied sigh, eager to eat him up again once he's picked up the pieces of his broke heart tonight...

and I know his insecurities hugged him to their chest and carded their fingers through his hand, petted his check and whispered in his ear until even in the morning he still feels the sick touch of it.

and I know the frustration at what you could've had by now, and all the things he's missed out on with you, all those pretty smiles you used to give him he's missed... who wouldn't be angry about that.

reminding himself how fucking stupid he is for not letting himself be weak just once. that you wouldn't have hurt him, and that what he did was so fucking stupid.

but still reminding himself that he wouldn't have been good enough for you, that he's too broken, that his relationships are too fractured and damaged and dark for someone so sweet as you.

that the walls around his life are too high for your light to shine and he'd only dim you down, keeping your light for himself...

that'd be too selfish. he couldn't be that selfish.

"but the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light" YOU FOUND YOUR HAPPINESS WITH COVE AND ARE NO LONGER LOOKING BACK AT HIM..... THAT YOUR FUTURE IS FINALLY IN FRONT OF YOU AND NOT BEHIND YOU....

anyway. imma go finish listening to loml bc "who's gonna tell me the truth when you blew in with the winds of fate" is DEVASTATINGLY BAXTER CODED AND WE GOTTA TALK ABT IT

[gumpistol]

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♪ never gonna give you up! never gonna let you doown! ♪

    this is me, hanging onto dear life and clinging to saro whether she likes it or not! she is my ride or die, my brain twin, a fellow member of the AAA ( aro ace audhd ) club! i have so many things to say about her and how much she means to me, it hurts my brain trying to figure out where to start! but knowing me, it will be long, so buckle up buttercup~

    i will never forget our first interaction: i filled out her interest tracker, she came to my discord dms, and i swear we barely stopped talking with each other for the next 24 hours. when i had only known her for a day, it felt like we had been friends for years!! i still don't know what to make of that, but i don't think i've ever clicked with someone that fast. but the rest is history, and now we have so many threads in various verses together! 

    seriously, saro has such a massive brain with so many interests and thoughts and a desire to consume knowledge like i inhale a bucket of popcorn. she is one of the easiest people to talk to and bounce ideas off of. a good chunk of my character and story development for luffy ( and others ) are thanks to her picking my brain and asking the difficult character questions! she's excited to talk new ideas and what-ifs, and LOVES enabling me to write new muses. it is because of her that i ever started writing rosinante, robin, and penguin over on my multi~

    outside of writing though, she always makes me feel more excited to share and talk about my interests, including OP trading cards and my science-y rambles. SPEAKING OF! she loves me SO MUCH that today, despite hating making phone calls, she called her local card shop to see if they had a set of cards that i wanted!! as someone who also hates making phone calls, that is true fucking friend behavior right there ♡

    she really is quick to think about her friends. it could be the little things, like when she saves manga panels of unique luffy faces for me that i might not have yet, sends art of our muses, shares writing resources, or even just suggests reading the same science articles or listening to the same ologies episode together. she's also an excellent listener who gives meaningful words of encouragement, who refers back to things in conversation that i maybe said months ago, and who is a huge help when it comes to getting my brain unstuck on threads. 

    i haven't even touched on her writing and her Law portrayal though! when i say she puts SO MUCH work into doing him justice, i absolutely mean it. she analyzes even the smallest details, and her brain worms when she talks about him and his relationships are infectious. she got me so invested that she is the sole reason lawbin is now one of my favorite ships. she is the reason i put so much time and effort into a side character like penguin. and she is why i put so much stock into law and luffy's friendship. i. am. hooked.

    and i know she gets a little worried about the length of her writing sometimes, but the waiting period is worth it. the quality of saro's writing is so organic and it flows like reading a good novel. i'm convinced at this point that i could come to her with any sort of thread or verse idea and she could weave it into a beautiful story. god i'm so stupidly eager to write with her always!! 

    anyway, i wrote so much, but such is the nature of anything we write for each other. there's a lot that i didn't even get around to talking about, but in summary, saro is incredibly kind, fun, and so brilliant it makes me want to SCREAM! i love her a lot, she is one of my best friends ( if she disagrees then too bad ), and i'm incredibly happy that i get to be her friend :)

sent by: @mingos for: @enruiinas

[daydreamerwonderkid]

"This chapter goes out to Signal, Spoiler and Black Bat. Just saw them doing a mini dance off on my way home from classes and if this fic somehow magically transformed into a dance competition AU overnight, well you know who to blame."

"SOOOOOOOOO. It turns out that Poison Ivy’s pheromones are NOT a good way to counteract Scarecrow's fear gas."

"Typing in 'I'm not a terrorist, I don't work for any of the Rogues and I have no plans to actually do any of this' into my search engine every other hour just so I can get my daily 'I know' message from Oracle."

"First off, I just wanna say I'm FINE. I only got like 12% direct exposure to Joker gas which is just a regular Tuesday, let's be honest.

Update: It was more than 12%."

"No new update because some asshat decided to push me into Gotham River so now I'm on bedrest for the next two months until all the toxins finally get flushed out of my system. And by asshat, I mean fucking Batman and his stupid piece of shit Batmobile.

What's the point of having a fucking tank for a car if you're not gonna use your goddamn headlights to keep from, I dunno, bumping into people with your goddamn car! He's so fucking lucky that Red Hood was there to chew him out or I swear I would have crawled out of that river and laid hands on him myself."

"I swear to god every single time I try to update this fic, at least one new city wide attack happens. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Batman crashed through my window and interrogated me."

"Special thanks to Red Robin and Spoiler for accidentally throwing a Riddler thug into me, only for said Riddler thug's full weight to completely collapse on top of me and break my leg. Extra special thanks to Red Robin for holding my hand and listening to me ramble on forever about this fic until the paramedics arrived. Extra extra special thanks to Spoiler for agreeing with me that Batman/Bruce Wayne is a far superior ship to Batman/Superman."

"Note to self: typing in 'Commissioner Gordon smut' will immediately put you on Oracle's watchlist."

"Being high on Poison Ivy pheromones is apparently not a good enough excuse to get away with explaining Omegaverse to your favorite local vigilante. Nightwing, if you're reading this, I am so sorry."

"In hindsight, I really should have realized that those dogs only looked that massive because they were fucking HYENAS and I don't know, not just some new bizarre monster dog breed some loser cooked up in his basement."

"You know the brain rot's really wormed its way into your skull when your reaction to getting captured by a Rogue is to think: Hmmm, this would make an interesting oneshot.

It was Bane btw. Yeah, I still have no idea why he took over Gotham Library for an afternoon, either."

"Sorry if the chapter updates are coming in a bit slower than normal. My editor was shot in the middle of a fight between some Two-Face goons and Black Mask pricks. Good news is that she got to meet Red Hood and I think she's fully converted to being a Red Hood stan now lol."

"Great news, guys! Turns out my cat hadn't run away, she was just pregnant and trying to find a safe spot to give birth! I don't know why she thought the dumpster behind our apartment was a safe place, but I got to meet Robin and take some pictures with him and the kittens so it's a win-win all around!"

"This oneshot is dedicated to that one time I saw Red Robin accidentally drop his coffee and then immediately curl up and cry for five minutes. Absolute mood, buddy. We've all been there."

"The next person that tries to tell me how 'unrealistic' it is for that many Arkham breakouts to happen in such a short span of time is going to get a swift kick to the nuts. Tell me you're not Gotham without telling me you're not from Gotham."

how crazy do you think the AO3 authours notes are in gotham?

"Joker killed my grandma with a reindeer whilst playing 'grandma got run over by a reindeer' and i don't think i can continue to write this JokerBat fic anymore guys sorry :/ it just feels disrespectful."

“Look, I get if Batman/Clark Kent isn’t your cup of tea, but the guy writes more about Batman than anyone else outside of Gotham. There’s got to be a reason, is all I’m saying.”

“And here I am, jumping on the Batman/Bruce Wayne train like the rest of our beloved hellhole. Anyway, if you’re not from Gotham you can keep your criticisms to yourself or I will not be held responsible for the bloodshed that will occur should you insult our beloved sunshine child and his goth sugar baby. You don’t know them like we do.”

“Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in awhile. I died and then got caught up in this whole my-father-didn’t-avenge-me angst thing. Which was completely justified in my opinion. Anyway…”

“Let’s be honest, this entire series is dedicated to the fact that Red Hood could crush any of us with his thighs and we’d say thank you.”

“I just read a fic shipping Nightwing/Superman and I mean, come on. The author is clearly not from Gotham but I can never unsee that and I think I should be entitled to financial compensation.”

“Sorry it’s been awhile, I just got a new job! With the Best Boss™️ (if you know, you know). Also, my boss said he’d give a hundred bucks if I wrote a Batman bashing fic? Thoughts? Ngl I don’t think it’d even be that hard.”

“‘WHy aRE yoU WriTIng ABouT FakE SupERheROes WHen THe rEAl oNEs aRE riGHt tHEre?’ Uh, because it’s Gotham and they’re all a disaster? And also because I don’t want to be haunted by the venegeful spirits of robins past idk. Thinking of doing a crossover though. Batman in the Avengers? Thoughts?”

“I just want my husband Nightwing to be happy, is that too much to ask?”

“I came across Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on my way home from school today and will now be hyperfixating on that ship, thanks.”

“Leave me and my 235k word fic of Prince!Bruce/Knight!Batman alone you Metropolis and Superman-loving traitors. This is not for you.”

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[sparxwrites]

@manoessay​ replied to your post:

This post activated my brain harder than most so even though you arent gonna make a fanfic i will add, Dream testing how many times you can bring a person back on quackity once he gets out.

(i absolutely fully got possessed by this idea, and then wrote this self-indulgent and weirdly experimental fic feverishly at like 1am last night. this is... probably not what you were imagining, but it’s what fell out of my brain, so! enjoy? written to “innocence” by madeon.)

cw moderately graphic torture / gore, mental breakdown, mind games, temporary character death

[ao3]

-

“How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The words flash hot through his skull, but don’t translate into meaning. Don’t translate into anything other than noise. The floor is cold beneath his palms. Russet-brown flakes up beneath his nails when he claws at it, chest heaving, lungs trying to remember how breathing works.

His first inhale gurgles, wetly, makes him jerk on his belly like a worm on a hook. His throat is raw from disuse, from screaming, from the sword that had sliced through his trachea like a knife through so much butter. When he tries to speak, the only thing that comes out is blood.

It goes like this, every time Dream drags him back from Limbo: his ears full of a high ringing, his lungs not working, his body numb. The link between flesh and brain is faulty, sparking wrong – like the battered neurons take a few precious minutes of life to rewire back together fully. It fixes itself a little less each time, the link; he’s permanently numb down most of his left side, now. The fingers on his right hand are going insensate in terrifying inches.

“How many times?”

Crooked mask, ragged voice, cracked porcelain smile. Dream looks better than Quackity feels, but not much – crouched low on a stone floor that’s caked in layer after layer of old blood, watching Quackity like a bug under a magnifying glass. His hair’s a greasy mess, his mask dirty-white and chipped, his clothes spattered with weeks of gore. With Quackity’s gore.

There’s blood dripping out from beneath the mask, though, fresh and hot. His hands shake. The knuckles clenched around the hilt of his sword are white, the skin beneath his fingernails faintly purple-blue.

The eyes behind the mask are just a little too green.

“Can you even hear me?” There’s a giddy slur to the edge of Dream’s words, the manic lilt of a man high off the same shit that’s melting his brain out through his nose. That feeling was familiar to Quackity, in another life. “Quackity. Hey, Quackity. Anyone in there?” He laughs, short and cruel and batshit crazy. His eyes are the colour of battery acid. “Have I finally broken you?”

There’s no response – because Quackity’s still trying to remember how his lungs work, remember what ribs are, remember how to do things that aren’t screaming and curling in on himself and rocking – and the amusement in his voice turns angry, sour. “I said tell me how many times, Quackity.”

Dream stands, unsteady, swaying as he does and leaning heavily on the sword for balance. His hands are still shaking. The blood’s stopped dripping, but there’s a sickly tinge to it, and when he wipes at his chin with the back of one hand it leaves a smear that’s more brown than red.

There’s a flicker of something, as his knuckles touch the half-inch of exposed face – dirty white light, bridging the gap between skin in a static-shock flash. There and then gone, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

The eyes behind the mask glow a little brighter. A little greener. A little less human.

The point of Dream’s sword sinks into Quackity’s shoulder, splits open an old scar. Quackity’s covered in them, now, more scar than skin. More ruined than not. He spasms, chokes, bleeds wet and red and fresh over the dried blood that carpets the floor. The noise he makes is animal, leg-in-a-bear-trap high and thin and dying. Barely alive five minutes, and he’s bleeding out again already. It’s almost funny.

Dream laughs, and leans on the pommel of the sword. It pushes in another inch.

“Month!” manages Quackity, forcing the word out through the wetness in his lungs, through the broken-bone grind of his throat. If he weren’t so many shattered parts, pasted back together by unholy power and Dream’s capricious whims, it might have been a howl. As it is, he barely has the energy to sob, the words raw and hoarse and threadbare. “A month, a month– thirty– haha, thirty-six days in, in, in Limbo, fuck, please, please–”

There’s wet on his cheeks. Tears? Blood? Worse? He can’t tell any more. He can’t even feel the left side of his face.

He grabs for Dream’s boots, presses his forehead against them, gasps for air that doesn’t seem to bring any relief from the cold ache in his lungs. One of his hands finds an ankle, a strip of bare skin between shoe and pant leg. Dream’s skin is fever-hot, sickly, bottled lightning gone past its sell-by date.

The shock of the contact knocks him silent for a second, though. They won’t touch him, in Limbo, the ghosts – or can’t, or both, can’t and won’t. Because they’re bastards, because they hate him, because he isn’t one of them. They can’t-won’t touch him, can’t see him, won’t see him, won’t speak to him– and he’s left, alone, in a room full of the faded impressions of people he once knew, once loved, once was loved by. A room full of people who do not see him, and do not touch him, and do not hear him when he talks.

(When he screams, when he swears at them, when he tries to claw their eyes out with unsteady hands that don’t make contact– when he begs, when he pleads, when he wheedles and bribes and bargains to deaf ears– when he wraps arms around himself, when he rocks himself back and forth until the blood rushes in his ears, when he whispers to himself until his voice fades to nothing, and tries to pretend it is the same thing as being loved and held and comforted–)

“Please, don’t– hahah, don’t kill me, fuck– please, look, look, hurt me, please, hurt me– anything, anything, I don’t–” He doesn’t have the breath for this. Doesn’t have the energy. Doesn’t even really have the words any more, after screaming for thirty-six fucking days straight, after talking to himself for so long his vocal cords wore out and left him mouthing silence in a desperate attempt to keep himself company. “Don’t, don’t send me– not, don’t send me back, please, fuck, anything, ha, haha, don’t, don’t–”

“I said I’d make you beg for death,” says Dream, amused, bored, manic. “Not torture. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just kind of funny. Don’t you think? I think it’s funny.”

He pushes the sword in, another inch. Quackity sobs, desperate and pathetic, and feels no shame for it. Presses his face to Dream’s boot, clings to his ankle like a lifeline, and feels no shame for it. Shame was beaten out of him, bled out of him, several lifetimes ago. “But that’s not what I asked, though. How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The sword in his shoulder twists, and Quackity screams. Something severs with a pop, and then another, and then another, until the joint is little more than a hot ball of pain and wet meat, grated bone. Until he can no longer scream, gasping desperately through the pain, weeping like a child. Another twist, and something else severs, something vital, a second’s resistance before a give and a spray of warm blood.

He bleeds out between one sob and the next, tumbling into darkness, the golden net of the respawn reaching up to catch him as he falls.

He wakes up three feet away, sprawled out on the filthy bed that occupies one corner of his cell, still sobbing. The respawn clings to him like a second skin, like weights around his ankles, frightening and familiar all at once. It fades slowly, reluctantly; slower each time he dies, he thinks. Like it’s getting used to holding him. Like it doesn’t want to let him go.

It’s only barely gone by the time Dream crosses the space between them, two short steps, no time for him to flinch, no time for him to hide–

Dream grabs him by the wrist, wrenches his body up from the bed, and slots the sword neatly through the front of his throat. The broad, well-used scar carved across it parts for the blade like an old friend, swallows it whole – and Quackity dies for the second time in as many minutes, choking on his own blood.

The respawn catches him. Drags him down into darkness. Drags him back up to the surface of reality, deposits him back onto a bed now sodden with crimson. He’s shaking. He should be used to it, but he’s shaking so hard his teeth clack together, so hard he’s not sure it will ever stop.

Dream drags him off the bed, back onto the floor. Back onto the filth, the layers and layers of dried gore, a carpet constructed from every time he’s been slaughtered like an animal in this tiny, lightless cell.

“Dream,” he begs, quietly. “Dream, Dream–”

Even to his ears, it sounds more like a prayer than a plea.

“It’s a simple question, Quackity. How many times have you died now? Properly died. How many times have I brought you back? I just want a number. Just a number.” The mask obscures Dream’s mouth, but his grin is audible. His eyes are so bright, they hurt to look at. “How many times have I proven to you that I’m a god?”

Quackity tries to curl in on himself, but Dream is in the way, one boot by his shoulder and the other pinning his wrist to the floor beneath its toe. He’s not surprised. Dream is everywhere, always, omnipresent. His free hand seeks out Dream’s ankle onces more, curls around that curdled-lightning skin, desperate and needy. It grounds him, touching the only real person in his whole entire world, and he hates himself for it.

“…T- ten?” he tries, and knows as he says it that it’s wrong. The panic rises like the respawn, choking him. He can’t breathe. “Ten, ten times– maybe eleven– fuck, fuck, Dream, please–”

The sword-tip finds his back, finds the space between his fourth and fifth rib. Finds the ropy scar there, beneath the rags, soft from re-use – like a zipper, easy to pry open right down to his weak, wet heart.

“Good guess,” says Dream, quietly. “Closer than before. But still not right. You need a little longer to think about it, I guess. But– hey, you know what? I’ll be nice, and give you a hint.” He pauses, and Quackity’s world stands still. “You’re guessing too low.”

He pushes the sword down. It slips between Quackity’s ribs like an old lover, lodges in the crusted filth and stone below, pins him still against the floor. His heart beats once, twice, a butterfly-flutter around the diamond skewered through it. His body convulses. He falls still.

The blood from his mouth dyes the toes of Dream’s boots crimson, as the light leaves his eyes.

He wakes in Limbo, on his knees, in a room full of people – full of impressions of people, like the ghosts of a faded photograph. He sees them all there, their backs to him, as they move amongst one another, as they talk amongst one another. Tubbo, and Schlatt, and Fundy, and Wilbur, and–

Sapnap, who looks right through him. Karl, whose eyes skate over him. They hold each other’s hands. The rings on their fourth fingers gleam weakly in the strange, nebulous light of the afterlife. They do not hear him when he says their names, ragged and desperate, like a plea. Like a prayer.

And then they, too, turn their back on him. And Quackity – still raw, still bloody, still skewered open right through his butterfly heart – screams and screams and screams.

[keichanz]

More Than

so i was listening to the song More Than My Hometown by Morgan Wallen which is now my new obsession and i shit you not, the ending to this little drab popped into my brain so fast i knew i had to write it down. thus, this angsty little blurb was born. 

now as i was writing, i realized that it was giving off sooo many One Last Ride vibes, written by the ever so talented @lemonlushff​​, that i decided to tweak this so it could tuck somewhere into the story itself as a sort of unofficially official glimpse of their breakup. i’m happy to report that it has Lemon’s official seal of approval and she loved it! 

so now i’m gonna share it with all you fine folks and i hope you enjoy it too! :) and since it is in the OLR universe, there will be angst hahahaa. 

so this is for you Lemon, my sweet and sour friend~ ❤️ 

one last thing--i highly recommend either having the song above playing while you read this, or at least listen to it beforehand. yes, it’s a country song, but it really is so good and the lyrics - which i’ve italicized and bolded - seem to reflect Inuyasha’s thoughts perfectly, which is why i thought it fit so well with OLR’s theme. 

....shit okay one last last thing: i swear to fuck that the ending jumped out of a scene from a goddamn western harlequin romance novel with its level of cliche and drama and yes i am entirely proud of that fact ;ljadfilajflkahjsfue

She stood beside the bed, feeling empty, cold, hollow as she stared down at the pillows and blankets. It was still unmade, the sheets twisted, messy from her hasty retreat just that morning. Tears burned her eyes as she remembered why; the argument, the begging, the screaming. The heartbreak.

Her heart twinged and Kagome gasped, closing her eyes as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. Was this…was this really it? Were they really going to leave things like this, unresolved and painful between them? God, she didn’t want to. She wanted to run outside, run through the night to his house, throw open the front door and beg him to—

Her bedroom door crashed open and Kagome gasped, whirling around with wide, liquid eyes, heart in her throat. Golden eyes, furious, hard, bore into her own and suddenly a heat suffused her body, chasing away the previous chill, and her stomach swooped as he shut the door and stalked toward her.

Her breath left her in a stuttered exhale, body trembling, coming alive from the heat in his gaze.

“Inuy—”

“Shut up,” he growled, grabbing her waist, hauling her in tight against him. His lips fell over hers, swallowing her gaps, the crush of his mouth hard, unforgiving, punishing.

Hands – frantic, desperate – removed clothing, touching, grabbing, caressing. They fell on the bed in tangle of limbs, skin against skin, heart against heart, flushed, needy, desperate. Growls, moans, whispered pleas echoed throughout the darkness of the room as they rocked together, moving in a dance as old as time. Fingers grasping sweat slicked skin, hearts thundering wildly and then perfectly syncing in a moment of euphoric completion. A stuttered breath, a gasp of a name; then silence.

Tears trekked down her flushed face as she was gathered against a hard chest, as familiar arms wrapped around her stated body and held her as she cried.

Girl, our mamas are best friends and so are we The whole town's rooting for us like the home team Most likely to settle down Plant a few roots real deep and let 'em grow

Kagome stood in front of the full-length mirror and ran a brush through her still damp hair, the yellow and blue sundress she wore complimenting the blue of her eyes. Blue eyes that were dull as they stared at her reflection, but didn’t really see it.

Which was just as well. She didn’t know why she picked this dress to wear, but had felt compelled to wear it anyway, even if looking at it made the vice on her heart tighten even more.

A gentle knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked. Kagome turned her head in time to watch her mother crack open the door and poke her head inside, her smile kind, but her eyes sad. The older woman took in her daughter and her smile faded, but she didn’t comment as she stepped inside.

“Souta brought the car around,” she said softly. “And the keys are in it. Do you need help with your bags?”

“No,” Kagome answered and looked at her reflection again. “I packed most of them in the car last night. I just have my carry-on left.”

Mama nodded but said nothing as gazed at her daughter. Her heart ached at the pain she saw reflected in those dear features, in the eyes were that identical to her late husband’s—Kagome’s father.

“Kagome…” she started, but then sighed as those sad, sad eyes turned toward her once again. Mama shook her head. “Are you going to say goodbye?”

Kagome’s breath hitched. She didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the butterflies that took flight in her belly.

“I…I’m going to try,” she whispered and god help her, but she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes. “But Mama, I don’t…he probably doesn’t want to see…”

Her throat tightened and she pressed her lips tightly together to stifle the sob that welled up. Immediately arms, warm and familiar, surrounded her. Kagome buried her face in her mother’s shoulder as the tears spilled from her eyes.

“I’ll talk to Izayoi,” Mama murmured and kissed her daughter’s head, her heart aching for her little girl as she felt her own eyes getting hot with the threat of tears. “If anyone can talk some sense into that boy, it’s his mother.”

Kagome sniffled and nodded, grateful that her mother would help her in this endeavor. It was unlikely he’d want to see her, but she had to at least try…

Closing her eyes as her mother rubbed her back and smoothed her hair, Kagome clung to her mother and let herself remember, the memories flashing before her mind’s eye and then fading away just as quickly, only to be replaced by another one, fresher, more precious, more painful than the one before.

But we can't stop this real world from spinnin' us Your bright lights called, I don't blame you for pickin' up Your big dream bags are all packed up and ready to go But I just need you to know

“Shhh! Quit laughing or they’ll hear us!”

Another badly stifled giggle echoed in the night as he drew her into the darkness of the trees, toward their secret spot they’d found years ago. One hand held a six pack while the other held tight to her hand, fingers laced, and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face before an exhilarated chuckle of his own burst from his lips.

Darkness gave way to the orange glow of a fire, the soft crackling of wood breaking the stillness of the night.

“Why is this so good?”

“Because we’re seventeen.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Shut up and maybe we won’t be.”

“Hey, this was your idea—”

The rest of the words were stolen in a kiss, a hand coming up to cradle her jaw as a ragged sigh whispered against her lips. He tasted like beer and spearmint gum. She smiled. A strange combination, but it was him, and she loved it.

--

“You should have seen it, Inuyasha,” Kagome gushed a year later, sitting on her bed as she excitedly gushed about her time in LA to her best friend. “The sunset was absolutely gorgeous, like nothing you’ve ever seen before! God, I wish you were there with me. I just know you’d love it.”

Inuyasha smiled and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I doubt I can love anything more than you.”

Blue eyes widened as a flush spread across her cheeks; her breath hitched, lips forming his name and eyes drifting closed as he leaned forward and took her mouth in a warm, lazy kiss.

--

“Would you ever wanna go?”

“Go where?” Fingers racked through dark hair and her sigh was blissful, a soft melody in his ears.

“California.”

“…You mean like…visit?”

“Well, maybe longer than a visit…like an extended trip, or something…lots of opportunities out that way…”

A brief pause before the fingers continued. “No. …Do you?”

“Mmm…dunno. Maybe after graduation? I had so much fun last time, but…”

“But what?”

A pause. Then, “Nothing. Kiss me.”

A husky chuckle before a pair of lips covered her own and any thoughts about the Golden State far, far from her mind as she returned his kiss.

That I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls 'round, Hallelujah bound

“Ewww, get that away from me!”

“C’mon Kagome, it’s just a worm! It ain’t gonna bite ya!”

“Eeee! Inuyasha, don’t you dare—!”

Laughter as he chased her around with a baited hook, the sound of water splashing as bare feet waded into the lake.

“Wait, I think I got something!”

The crank of a fishing rod as he reeled it in, the water splashing as whatever was caught struggled against the pull. Grunting, muttered curses, and soft giggling before with a splash the bass burst from the water, dangling from the hook.

“You got it!”

“Damn, ain’t nothing more satisfying than that feeling when the bass hits the hook!”

“I can think of one thing…”

Soft lips, warm and smiling, pressed against his own and Inuyasha abruptly decided that yeah, this was definitely better.

--

“California?”

“Yeah! Can’t you just imagine it, Inuyasha? The lights, the nightlife, the ocean, and no more snow! You always complain about the snow.”

“Yeah, but…Kagome, I don’t know…”

“Just think about it, okay? I’m not asking for you to decide right now. But this is something I’ve thought about for a while now, Inuyasha, and I just…I want to experience it with you. Please?”

A pause, and then heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

A brilliant smile, soft lips pressing to his cheek in a warm kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

“…I know, Kagome. Me, too.”

--

“I can’t believe you’re reading that crap.”

“It’s not crap, it’s romantic. You could probably learn something or two from these books, you uncultured dog.”

“Uncultured? Really?”

“Besides, I like it when the guy gets the girl at the end. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”

“I can make you feel all warm and fuzzy, too.”

Her gasp was cut off as lips pressed against her neck and hands slipped beneath her shirt to roam across soft skin. The book fell from her fingers to dive into silver hair, eyes closing as her head fell back with a breathy sigh.

--

“Yes.”

The blood was rushing so loudly in his ears he barely heard her and the thundering of his heart against his chest was so forceful, it was a wonder it didn’t leap out into her waiting hands. 

“Y-yes?” he echoed, voice naught but a disbelieving rasp as he stared at her with wide, shocked - and cautiously hopeful - golden eyes.

A half-sob, half-laugh burst from her lips and her eyes were bright from more than just the unshed tears brimming the beautiful depths.  Lips trembled as she smiled, hand trembling even more as she held it out before her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Inuyasha, I’ll marry you. I—”

What she felt next wasn’t the cool metal of his grandmother’s ring as it found a new home on her finger, but instead the warmth of her beloved’s hand as it wrapped around hers and yanked her forward into his arms. They tumbled to the ground, laughing, crying, exchanging endless kisses and promises of forever as the ring, forgotten on the ground but still nestled within the velvet box, glittered merrily in the warm glow of the fire.

Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

“Come with me.”

Silence; thick, stony. Cold.

Desperation made her voice high, the words falling from her lips fast. “Inuyasha, please, come back with me—we’d have such an amazing time together, learning, living and—you can enroll in my school, Inuyasha! It’s not too late, there are so many programs to choose from, and I just think you can do so much more with your life than—”

“Than what, Kagome?” The words were snapped, harsh, biting as he whirled around to peg her with a hard stare. “Than taking on the valued responsibility of the ranch that’s been in my family for fucking generations? Than building our fucking house? You know, the one we'll live in after we’re married? I can’t do that, Kagome. I won’t.”

“But that’s just it, Inuyasha, you have no room to grow here! You’re stifled by the responsibility you feel to take over the ranch when leaving could relieve you of that burden! The world is so big, Yash, and there’s so much more beyond this little town, so if you would just trust me—”

“You’re asking me to drop and leave everything I know behind, Kagome!” His voice was loud, thunderous in his anger, his frustration, his pain. “This my home, our home, and you just want me to leave like it don’t even matter! Like the fucking life I’m trying to build for us don’t even matter!”

“That’s why I’m asking you to come with me!” Tears, hot, salty ran unchecked down her face, blue eyes big and pleading and flashing with undisguised panic. “I want to be with you, Inuyasha, I do, but I need you to understand—!”

“Then be with me here, dammit!” A note of desperation, amber eyes pleading, frantic, angry.

A choked sob, a muffled whimper. “I can’t…”

An anguished sound, a shattered cry, and then a door slamming shut, loud, devastating, final.

--

The words slammed into him harder than any blow he’d ever received, the shock greater than hitting the unforgiving ground after falling off a horse, and the pain far, far worse than he ever could have imagined.

Fuck, it would have hurt less if she’d just outright slapped him in the face.

She wouldn’t look at him, her gaze focused on the ground, dark hair hiding her expression. He swallowed once, twice; his mouth felt like a desert, his tongue heavy, thick, useless. His throat worked but no sound came out. Ice replaced the blood in his veins, freezing his lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Wh…what did you s…” He shook his head, swayed on his feet as he blinked hard. He couldn't have heard her right. She couldn't have just told him—

“…I cheated on you. Inuyasha, I—”

He didn’t hear the rest of what she said. His legs abruptly gave out and he stumbled back, sitting down hard onto the fallen log behind him. The log he’d proposed to her on. The log they’d kissed on—

He shook his head again, a frown pulling his brows down low over his eyes as he tried to register the words spilling from her mouth a mile a minute. Two days…two days ago. That—that didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t—he couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t detect any sort of incriminating evidence that suggested she’d been unfaithful. 

Amber eyes lifted, flashing with tentative hope. She’d been drunk—she didn’t remember, so maybe if he told her—

The sight of his grandmother’s ring, nestled in the middle of her palm, might as well have been his heart because it sure as sure shit felt like she’d just ripped it out of his chest. His stomach clenched, the breath seized in his lungs, and a curious numbness spread throughout his entire body. The realization hit him even harder than the pain had, and that in and of itself would have brought him to his knees had he not already been sitting. 

Honeyed eyes, agonized, pleading, lifted to her face. Again she would not meet his gaze, eyes closed against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. He suddenly tasted salt and with a start he realized he was crying too, the tears warm as they streaked down his pale face but he gave them no mind. 

“K…Kagome…” It was the only thing he could get through a throat tight from anguish. A plea, a prayer, a question all in one as he stared at her, heedless of the tears that continued to fall. 

Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head; a clenched sob broke from her lips as she reached forward, grabbed his hand, closed his fingers around the ring, giving it back, giving back his heart that she no longer wanted. Pain, sharp and intense, pierced through him and he gasped, unable to do a damned thing as she backed away from him, arms folded around herself.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, shaking her head, over and over, backing away. “I just…I can’t…”

A sob, borne of a sorrow so deep, of regret and fear and pain so sharp it felt it in the very marrow of his bones, broke free of her lips right before she whirled around and dashed away, through the night, through the trees, away from the fire, away from him.

Inuyasha could do nothing but sit there, his rejected grandmother’s ring clutched in his fist and his vision blurry from hot tears as he watched her run. Curious, that instead of the crushing pain he expected to feel in his chest, there was a hollow ache that resonated, like an echo of a mournful howl for the one who had just run away with his heart.

What hurt more than the pain of watching her go, however, and more than the diamond cutting into his palm, was the jarring realization that the woman he loved more than his own life would rather fabricate a lie of infidelity than be with him. 

And because he loved her more than his own happiness…he’d let her. 

I ain't the runaway kind, I can't change that My heart's stuck in these streets like the train tracks City sky ain't the same black Ain't that a map dot shame, man, to think that

Sitting on his bed, freshly showered and donned in simple jeans and a t-shirt, Inuyasha’s head was bowed between his shoulders and his arms were propped on his knees. His hands, clenched into tight fists, gradually relaxed and a breath he hadn’t’ even realized he’d been holding rushed from his lungs, escaping his mouth in a harsh exhale that did absolutely nothing to absolve the torment wreaking his mind.

As the last vestiges of the memory faded away, far more painful than all the ones before, he opened his eyes and stared down at the hardwood floor, scuffed and scratched and worn. He frowned, his chest feeling tight, his stomach in knots, his muscles tensing and relaxing with a restless energy that was hard to ignore. He wanted to punch something, to run, to fight, fight for her to stay, fight for them.

But he remained where he was, hands flexing, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight against the pain that was determined to bring him to his knees. God, why, why did she have to—

Gentle rapping on the door before it was cracked open. He didn’t look up but he didn’t need to; he knew why she was here. The ache in his chest intensified, sharped, traveled up to knot in his throat and make it harder to breathe.

She didn’t say anything at first, simply stared. Then, “…She wants to see you.”

Inuyasha turned his head, looked out the window.

A pause. Then a sigh, resigned, sad. “Asako called. Before she showed up at the door, I mean. Asked me to talk to you. Said I would, but didn’t make any promises.” Pause. “You already know how I feel about her doing this, but…you should at least say goodbye. You’ll regret it if you don’t. You know you will.”

A tightening of his jaw and a deep furrowing of his brow was her response.

“…I’m sorry, my love.”

The door closed with a soft click.

A minute passed. Two. Three.

Inuyasha exploded to his feet, grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, and hurled it against the wall with a roar that was equal parts rage, frustration, and deep, intense anguish that reverberated throughout the entire house; echoing, thunderous, shattering.

Deafening silence followed his outburst; he sank to his knees and wept.

I love you more than a California sunset More than a beer when you ain't twenty-one yet More than a Sunday morning Lord Turnin' some poor lost souls around, Hallelujah bound Yeah, I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But, baby, this might be the last time I get to lay you down Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

It was impossible not to hear it. As the color drained from Kagome’s face and her heart clenched in her chest, Izayoi stared at her with eyes hardened from the ache she was feeling for her son, the sorrow she felt at his heartbreak twisted into bitter, resentful anger at the woman standing before her.

Kagome closed her eyes, bit her lip to stifle the sob that welled in her throat, sucked in a shaky breath meant to harden her resolve. It didn’t and she fought not to fall apart on the front porch, locking knees that threatened to give out on her.

“Go,” Izayoi muttered in a voice like flint and ignored the younger woman’s flinch. “You’ve done enough damage here. And I’m not talking about whatever he just destroyed.”

Hot tears pricked the back of her eyes. Her throat tightened, preventing any words, protests, to spill from her mouth. She stared at the older woman with wide eyes, someone who she, for the longest time, had looked upon as a second mother, someone to confide in, to trust.

She found none of the warmth that she was used to seeing. No fondness, no compassion, no understanding. Coldness spread through Kagome’s veins, turning her blood to ice, knotting in her stomach, heavy, uncomfortable.

Izayoi stared back, cold, unforgiving, unregretful.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered.

The older woman pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, arms tight across her chest.

Rejected, heartbroken, Kagome turned, her feet feeling heavy as they carried her back to her car. The tears ran unchecked down her face now, streaming down pale cheeks. She tasted salt and she got in the vehicle, closed the door. Her body felt like it was on autopilot as she revved the engine and started down the long dirt driveway.

It wasn’t until she had gone halfway that she broke down, great, gasping sobs erupting from her throat. Her vision was blurry from the unending tears and her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Without even realizing it her foot had slipped from the accelerator and she was merely coasting now, too distraught, too tormented to think about anything else but the pain ravaging her heart. Unbidden one last memory, the most recent, flashed before her mind’s eye, twisting the knife keeper, crushing her, killing her…

“Don’t do this.”

He froze at the softly uttered words, spoken in a tone so raw with pain that it trembled. He swallowed hard and turned his head just the slightest bit, but said nothing.

Silence. Thick, tense, deafening.

Then he tightened his jaw, hardened his eyes, and continued putting his boots on.

A choked sob, the rustle of cloth. “Inuyasha, please—”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood up from the side of the bed and refused to look at her as he collected his jacket, still sitting in a heap on the floor from where it was hastily thrown the night before.

A stuttered breath, followed by the salty scent of tears. His lips drew into a tight line and his hands fisted tightly at his sides as he forced himself to head toward the door. But, goddamn him, he paused right in front of it, hand on the knob, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Please,” she begged and the word was a raspy plea, vision blurry from tears. “If you would just—we can talk about this—”

“I love you, Kagome,” Inuyasha said and he heard her sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t turn around. He swallowed once, twice, and closed his eyes as he opened his mouth and forced the words past a throat tight with emotion.

“Inu—”

“But I can’t…love you more than this. I just…I can’t.”

Another sob, a hitched breath, and his chest ached. He bowed his head.

“See you around, Kagome,” he whispered and left, his footsteps fading down the hallway and down the stairs until the slam of the front door echoed in the dark house.

Kagome dropped her face into her hands and wept.

The front door burst open and Inuyasha was desperation personified as he rushed past his alarmed mother, sprinting as fast as he could toward the barn that held the horses. Not even a full minute later a white blur sped from the barn and bolted through the open gate of the pasture, following the car that was leaving with his love, his soul, his very heart.

Standing on the porch, Izayoi pressed a hand to her heart while the other covered her mouth, muffling the sob that burst from her lips as teary eyes watched her son chase after the woman who broke his heart.

'Cause I love you more than a California sunset I love you more in a twenty-dollar sundress Hate that loaded down car you got your keys in Girl, but I hate even more that you're leavin'

Urging his mount to go faster, harder, the thundering of her hooves against the ground rivaled that of the thundering of his heart in his chest. Hands gripping the coarse hair of her mane, Inuyasha grit his teeth against the harsh wind, his eyes wild, desperate and bright with unshed tears as he kicked the mare’s flanks to go faster, dammit, faster!

The distance between them was closing, the rumble of the engine, of gravel crunching beneath tires becoming louder until he was riding alongside her, along the fence that enclosed the front pasture. His hands fisted his mount’s mane in a while-knuckled grip as he leaned over her neck, legs tight to her sides.

He turned his head and wild, despairing golden eyes collided with wide, tear-filled blue.

Kagome’s heart lurched in her chest, making her gasp as goosebumps erupted on her skin. She sobbed, shaking her head, mouthing his name and forcing her eyes to look straight ahead. What—what was he doing?! Why?! God, he was making this even harder than it already was, taking her heart and stomping on it, cruel, cold, conniving.

But it made sense, didn’t it.

She had broken his heart, and now he was doing the same to her.

'Cause I love you more than the feeling when the bass hits a hook When the guy gets the girl at the end of the book But that ain't you and me so I guess I'll see you around 'Cause I can't love you more than my hometown

Inuyasha didn’t let up, not even when she looked away, gritting his teeth, kicking his mount to keep up when she accelerated. She was crying, and although he couldn’t hear her, he could see the way she shook, shoulders jerking, chest heaving, face wet from her tears and fuck she was wearing the sundress—

The end of the drive was in sight. Kagome slowed down, so did he, but she didn’t stop as she once again turned her head and caught his gaze. Inuyasha was already staring at her, heart in his eyes, a silent plea falling from his lips, willing her to hear….

“Don’t go.”

A sob, raw, choked, anguished.

“I’m sorry.”

Without even realizing, he let up on his mount, the mare slowing to a trot, a walk, and then stood still, recovering from the hard gallop. Golden eyes, awash with ears, watched the car reach the end of the drive and turn, driving away, going, going, getting smaller, fading.

Gone.

Something inside Inuyasha shattered and he didn’t think it could ever, ever be repaired.

Love you more than my hometown Love you more than my hometown Love you more, baby, love you more

[bloodtwin]

           HE   WOULD   HAVE   SCOLDED   THEM   for the first comment, but they change their mind faster than his own tuckered out brain can form the words. Instead, he simply makes a disapproving face that only the wall behind their bunk bed can see.

There are doodles scribbled all over that wall. Smiley faces & trees & bugs & all sorts of things, all drawn by the siblings. They also wrote their names on it. Iago somehow managed to convince Puck to put a cuss word too. They hid it behind one of the wooden posts of the bed.

Puck, of course, felt guilty about this & tearfully confessed to their dad, who did a poor job of trying not to laugh. The twins were then allowed a single swear word to say of their choosing to get that curiosity out of their systems. Puck quietly said ❛ Damn, ❜ & Iago belted out ❛ FUCK ！！！❜ , startling the family cat in the process.

Their parents weren't very happy that they'd decided to express themselves artistically on the wall instead of on paper, but they never really got upset about the rest of the mural either. Merely smiled, rolled their eyes & bought the twins their own sketchbooks in an attempt to deter any other defacement of the house.

           ❝ Little gentlemen do not throw things back at bullies, ❞ Puck recites their father's words, though slightly altered to suit this particular occasion. He does this often.

           ❝ They turn the other cheek. Like this. ❞ He wiggles like a worm, back still facing Iago, in reference to his having turned away from them. ( Not quite what turning the other cheek means, but that matters not to the little gentleman. )

A long pause as Iago stares at the back of his head. Then another huff, hot air blowing tangled strands of hair out of his face. ❝ No. I can feel your eyes. ❞

Though the twins will go through many changes throughout their life, one thing will remain consistent, and that would be just how easily Puck becomes distracted from his own annoyance. Forgets it entirely.

Immediately, he bounces up & whirls around at the mention of lemon cake, rocking side-to-side. ❝ I hope so ！He did last year. ❞

Puck looks like he wants to add something else, but instead he frowns at his upside-down sibling. Cranes his neck to try looking at them from the same angle they look at him, nose wrinkling. ❝ You're gonna give yourself a headache like that. ❞

He pats the spot next to himself on the bed. ❝ You can sit here. Since you're already being annoying, I guess. ❞

Iago's pink eyes stare back at him owlishly while he tries to glare at them.

He's probably still upset about his present... Iago offered to look at their own gift, too, after he told them, so he wouldn't feel so bad on his own. But then his lip started wobbling and he gave them a Talk about how being sneaky is not something a little gentleman would do.

"I dropped it," Iago says quickly when he threatens to tell on them.

They then remember the other Talk he gave them just last week about lying and they try again, "No, I didn't. Sorry."

They wiggle over the side a little further, "Please don't tell on me."

"You can throw it back at me so we're even..." They chew on their lip for a few moments, staring at the back of his head. "Did you go back to sleep?"

... "Do you think dad is making us lemon cake?"

[klonoadreams]

I don’t think this has been asked yet, how would Mash get along with twst cast in the University AU? Like mash now not only has one senpai, but now many, especially since the crew is now college age and mash is canonically 16.

Likely depends, since Mash is like 16 at the start, but has since reached maturity and is slated to die early (at first), due to being more or less like a homunculus (which in itself opens up another can of worms once everyone finds out - Yuu (ewe) especially).

Anyways, readmore, because this is gonna get LONG. (it's also almost 6 am so if I miss anyone, oop)

Mash would most certainly get along with Ortho the best, since they're the most "inexperienced" due not having experienced life a lot longer than most and age. (Ortho may be with the college-aged gang, but he's still the baby of the group)

Idia might just combust being called "Senpai!!" but otherwise is happy and likely teaches Mash some things, once he's gotten more comfortable.

Azul can likely teach her about contracts and whatnot, since Yuu (ewe) gets along with her greatly. So he can't do his usual thing. Beyond that, it doesn't seem fair to do it to someone so naive.

You can fucking bet Jade is gonna show off everything he knows about mushrooms to Mash.

And Floyd just gives her a nickname, idk what it'd be, but he gives her one. Is never really bored of her, though do watch out that he's not left alone with her, for fear of the influence he will cause that leads to shenanigans and the room covered in paint or whatever is close by.

Kalim is very nice and warm and will help Mash open up so she's more talkative. She might be overwhelmed at first, but she gets used to it. Helps that Jamil is around, who gets along pretty well with Mash.

Vil will see to it that Mash gets on some sort of skin care regiment and help her find new clothes, because "YOU CAN'T JUST WEAR THAT ALL THE TIME." while Rook teaches her about hunting and more beautiful things.

Epel is the reason that Mash starts swearing. He is very proud of it and likely gets into a fight with someone over it, idk, someone who either wanted to be the one Mash started swearing more or who hates it. Take your pick. He's gonna own it anyways, as he otherwise likes being around Mash.

Lilia coddles Mash, since she's in need of more parental guidance, and in turn, Silver treats her like a little sister. Sebek is his usual self, though he does have a soft spot for her, whenever she calls him senpai. And Malleus obviously thinks the world of her, because Yuu likes her enough, so he has to make sure they're BOTH safe!!

Leona might consider her an annoyance (at first), but he is amongst the first to get attached to her so easily. Like, considers her family sometime after she starts calling him senpai. More than that, it feels nice to have someone rely on him. Like, even if it's just to talk - there's nothing burdensome about it. In fact, he'd rather she talk more to him since she's just so new to this thing we call "Friendship"

Jack already considers Mash his little sister, and Mash is very happy!!! to just talk to him. Especially if Ruggie is around and not raiding the kitchen (you can fucking expect Ruggie to always share his food with Mash, and Mash doing the same with him - it's a habit she now has)

Riddle still follows rules but cuts back every so often, especially around Mash. Very lenient with her and Mash is very understanding. Very likely to start cutting loose even more so, as a result of Mash making him lower his guard more.

Cater and Mash are very likely to go on tirades about the things Cater has to share with her on MagiCam. Like, once you get them started, they will not stop!!! There is so much to see, and Mash really wants to see what it's like to be in their world.

Trey will teach Mash how to cook and also make sure her teeth stay healthy, because old habits die hard and no one is getting a cavity on his fucking watch. Mash now heckles Roman to put more effort into his dental care (as if he wasn't already doing his best lmaooo).

Ace and Deuce are the reasons why Mash experience what we like to call "the brain cell is on the floor". This gets even more chaotic once you throw Yuu in there, and by the end of it, Mash is just having the time of her life, even if it means getting lectured by Riddle or Da Vinci.

Roman is just happy to see Mash being so lively, and making such good memories. Even if they were to never see each other again (which is unlikely, because MAGIC), it wouldn't matter, because Mash will always have those memories.

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Saturday, January 16th

chapter seventeen: taught me some hard lessons

Levi had always held a certain disdain for the Reiss family.

They were not the only ones in town with money.

In fact, Levi was sure, as the only living male Ackerman, he currently had more than the Reiss family.

Unlike the Reiss family who had dropped all their money into a company, the Ackermans had invested.

How many bank accounts were out there in his name?

Not to mention the money from Kenny alone for doing all of Rod’s dirty work.

Levi hated the Reiss family.

He blamed Fritz Pharmaceuticals for his mother’s death, blamed Kenny too.

How had Kenny work for a company that made medicine and let his own little sister die?

Levi had been eleven when he had come to live with Kenny, when Kuchel died.

That began his down spiral.

Because why had his mother who had done nothing but good have to die?

Why did she have to suffer with kidney failure and liver failure?

Why was he so fucking powerless to watch her in a hospital bed while machines beeped?

Why didn’t Kenny save her?

If Uri was so good of a boss, why didn’t Kenny just ask him to fix it?

Why did none of this matter?

Levi was angry.

That anger fueled Levi for a very long time.

He created his path.

He’d get into fights.

He’d get suspended.

He’d ended up in a jail a few times.

No one dared to expel or press charges against  him. He was Kenny Ackerman’s ward. One didn’t mess with Kenny unless you wanted a very unpleasant visit.

A lawyer.

What a joke that was.

Sure, Kenny had the degree and on paper he was Fritz Pharmaceuticals' lead member of their legal team.

But everyone knew the truth.

If money couldn’t buy silence, Kenny had other ways of persuading someone.

Eventually, Levi’s hate for the company sizzled. He had joined the military, leaving those feelings behind.

Or so he thought.

Levi stood on the balcony outside his room in the cold night air. He hadn’t been able to sleep despite trying over and over.

He had seen how Mikasa had been.

He knew Mikasa would never say how much it bothered her to lose her songs. He knew she would pretend like it didn’t because her love for Historia outweighed her love for her music.

Mikasa reminded him of his mother.

That undying love of other people.

Maybe that’s why he loved Mikasa so much. That kid had changed everything for him. It would never be enough that when he left this world, he’d be leaving her all of the Ackerman fortune.

Some things she didn’t even know about like the money she’d get when she’d turn twenty five or when she got married. How much he had squirreled away into accounts, stocks, and bonds all in her name. He didn’t want her to have to worry about money or anything else ever in her life.

Sure, Levi could set up an anonymous buyer and try to buy the songs back. It would be awfully suspicious though. He knew out of spite Rod wouldn’t sell.

Besides, someone needed to teach that man a lesson. Levi walked back into his room and closed the doors to the balcony.

Sawney and Bean were sound asleep on his king size bed.

Levi sighed as he walked over to the wall that held a large painting that his mother had painted.

He pulled it down, a safe behind it. He put in the code.

Inside, sat the box that Eren had sent Mikasa along with the letter Levi had found on the floor.

Along with it sat several thick file folders. Levi pinched his nose before he sighed again.

This was going to open a can of worms that could not be shut back.

He flipped through the folders until he found the one he was looking for.

D.F. was written in Kenny’s handwriting.

He flipped through the folder even though he knew the contents.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He tossed the folder back into the safe and closed the safe.

He gently hung his mother’s painting back on the wall to cover it.

Was he doing the right thing?

He always told Mikasa to do the thing she regretted least.

Maybe he should take his own advice.

He pulled his phone out and made a call. He wasn’t expecting the other person to answer so it did not surprise him when they did.

“You said to give you a call if I had any information on your mom. Well, I do. I don't know what your plan is exactly but I’m in. You’re going to ask what’s changed because you’ve always got to prod into my brain. It’s simple. He fucked with my kids.”

Levi simply ended the call after that.

---------------

Sasha had woken the entire house up.

“I made pancakes!” She called and suddenly the kitchen was swarmed with people. Levi had already been sitting at the table with Sawney and Bean. Sasha brought two tiny plates over for the dogs that had tiny pancakes on them. The dogs quickly gobbled them up.

“Sasha, have I ever told you how much I love you?” Ymir asked before taking another bite of her pancake.

“Rarely,” Sasha snorted.

“Well, I love you or maybe I just love you’re cooking.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Ymir.”

Mikasa placed a cup of peppermint tea in front of Annie.

“Thank you,” Annie said before taking a drink.

Mikasa shrugged, “sure.”

Sasha was still busy flipping pancakes.

“Hey, when that’s finished, just bring it over to my plate over here,” Ymir laughed.

There was a knock on the door.

“I swear if that’s another letter…” Levi said before standing up.

They heard the door open and a very familiar voice filled the house.

“And that’s how my key broke,” Hange said as they entered the kitchen.

“We’ll get another copy today,” Levi sighed as he sunk down into his chair.

Sawney and Bean immediately began running and jumping around Hange’s legs.

“I missed you two! Have you been good?” Hange asked as they kneeled down and petted both of them.

“Hey Hange, did you hear what Dad got us?” Ymir smirked.

“I’m not your father,” Levi mumbled.

“The recording equipment? I did. Thanks for finding those bugs. They will be great for my entomology class,” Hange said before sitting at the table.

“You want any pancakes, Hange? There’s plenty,” Sasha asked as she put more down on Ymir’s plate.

“Sure! Thank you, Sasha,” Hange said as they sat down on the other side of Levi.

Sawney and Bean began chasing each other through the house.

“Were any of those bugs...you know…..alive?” Ymir grimaced.

“Oh no! They are specimen jars. Not alive at all. Very useful in class. Armin isn’t even in that class this year but I couldn’t pass up on showing him the pictures Levi sent me. He found them just as interesting as I did.”

“Wish you would have been here when we found them,” Ymir muttered before eating.

“If you find any more, let me know,” Hange smiled before Sasha sat down a fresh plate of pancakes down in front of Hange. “Thank you, Sasha,” Hange smiled.

“With Kenny, that’s possible,” Levi muttered.

“I thought you said you got rid of all of them!” Ymir exclaimed.

“I did and then you found more,” Levi replied before he took a drink of coffee.

Ymir groaned.

There was another knock on the door. Levi sighed as he got up.

“Sorry,” Armin said as he came into the house.

“Armin!” The group in the kitchen shouted.

The removing of shoes could be heard before Armin appeared in the kitchen.

“Hi, sorry. I had to talk to Moblit. We’re corradating so I can be Hange’s assistant starting this summer,” Armin said as he sat down on the other side of Hange. “Means more money for the baby,” he smiled at Annie.

“Yeah?” Annie beamed at him.

“And I’m staying until Monday afternoon so I can go to the doctor with you on Monday.”

“Good, then you can move what little shit you have left here into Annie’s room,” Levi remarked.

“Why?” Armin asked, confused.

“We’re gonna need room.”

“For what?” Mikasa asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe the baby that’s coming. Plus, if I’m hiring contracts in here to put up walls in the basement, I might as well have them paint the baby room ahead of time.”

Annie was not a very touchy person sometimes.

She didn’t like public displays of affection.

However, this one time, she stood up from her chair and ran over to Levi. She hugged him and Levi just froze.

He finally patted her on the back.

She let go and returned to her seat.

“Thank you,” Annie mumbled as she sat down.

Levi waved his hand in the air, “anyway, they'll need soundproof down in the basement too. This recording equipment picks up everything so once you all get it cleaned out, I’ll give them a call.”

“Quick question, who is going to run the recording stuff?” Ymir asked.

“Me,” Levi replied before taking another drink of coffee.

“Yes!” Sasha yelled. “We finally got Levi to do something with us!”

“Hange, did you see the selfie he took with us last night?” Historia asked as she picked up her phone.

Levi groaned.

“I didn’t!”

Historia held the phone up and Hange’s smile grew.

“That’s such a great photo! Why aren’t you smiling? We should print it out and hang it over the fireplace!”

------------------

Over an hour away, Zeke Jaeger’s house was having a very difficult morning.

Practice for The Restorationists had not been going very well as of late.

Floch had always been one to cause conflict.

I n fact, Zeke wasn’t sure why Eren had asked Floch to be in the band. He wasn’t an extraordinary bassist. He was just okay. Half the time Floch picked fights with Niccolo and Floch only listened to Zeke half the time.

Today was a very important rehearsal for The Restorationists. This was a song that was very important to Eren.

However, Floch seemed to be six notes a head of everyone else.

Niccolo was losing his patience and Eren couldn’t blame him.

“You’re way too fast on that part,” Niccolo said before throwing his drumstick at Floch.

“Ow! Stop throwing those things at me!” Floch picked up the drumstick and threw it back at Niccolo.

“Then play on beat!”

“How about you keep a steady beat?”

“How about you suck my…”

“STOP IT!” Zeke yelled. He had become fed up with the fighting. He felt like he was dealing with preschoolers. It was supposed to be a relaxing hobby with his brother but right now, it was making Zeke want to pull his hair out. Eren looked up at the ceiling of Zeke’s living room. This was getting old.

“You two need to get your shit together. Floch, Niccolo is right. You’re too fast. Niccolo, don’t throw your drumsticks at Floch. Throw the cymbal next time,” Zeke said.

Niccolo laughed.

“Not cool, Zeke,” Floch responded.

“You know Pieck can play bass too,” Zeke suggested before he took off his guitar and sat it down on the stand.

“You’re going to replace me with Pieck? Really? After all we’ve been through?”

“Stop whining,” Eren finally spoke up. “It’s getting old. Practice outside of our practices. Besides, this song isn’t about you, Floch.”

“Oh no, right. It’s about Mikasa. Like every other fucking song we play is about her. What’s so magical about her? Sex that good? She got a golden…”

Floch didn’t get to continue as Eren punched Floch right in the jaw.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that again!” Eren yelled as he pinned Floch to the ground.

Zeke grabbed Eren by the waist and pulled him off of Floch.

Floch thought this was a good idea to take a sucker punch at Eren.

Zeke let Eren go but before either Eren or Zeke could do anything, Niccolo gave Floch a swift kick to the groin.

Floch fell to the ground.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Niccolo smirked.

“When you can stand, get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back,” Zeke ordered. “I’ll get you something for your face, Eren.”

Zeke disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared with an ice pack for Eren’s face.

Eren and Zeke sat on the large couch that had originally been in Grisha’s basement. Niccolo sat down on the loveseat across from it.

Floch stayed on the floor for a bit before he got up. He angrily put his bass into the case and then stormed out of the house. He slammed the door behind him.

“He did not just slam my door,” Zeke said as he stood up from the couch. He walked over to the front door. “Hey asshole! This door costed more than you fucking car! Don’t slam shit that’s not yours! You could have broken the glass in it!”

“It’s probably good that your brother lives in the middle of nowhere.” Zeke heard Niccolo say as he went out the door.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eren replied as Zeke closed the door.

Floch scrambled to his car.

"You are out of the band, you fucker!" Zeke screamed at Floch.

Floch got in his car and drove away.

Zeke sighed as he pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket.

Just as he had lit the cigarette, his phone began to go off.

PIECK FINGER showed up on the scene. Zeke sighed again as he answered.

“How is your morning going? Because I just had a brawl in my living room,” Zeke replied.

“Not nearly that exciting. What happened?” Pieck’s voice rang out.

“Floch was being a fucking asshole. Eren punched him, then I stopped him from really hurting Floch. Then Floch sucker punched him so Niccolo kicked him in the groin. Then the bastard had the nerve to slam my front door. I could have fucking killed him.”

“There is a lake outside your house...but it might be suspicious.”

“So I have no bassist currently.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to begin with.”

“Because you are always busy. Between the galas and your photography. Not to mention the art commissions you have been recently taking on.”

“Can we not talk about galas right now?”

“Why? Did you not meet your latest lover at one?”

“Ugh! Do not call him that.”

“You still owe me details about how that whole situation came to be. Oh. I got a voicemail from Levi this morning. It was about my mother. I am heading over there to pick up the information.”

“What? I thought he said he didn’t have any.”

“I knew he did. There was no way Kenny Ackerman would not have information on my mother.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

“I will. I will call you when I get back.”

“Okay. Talk to you then,” Pieck replied before she hung up.

-------------------

Eren removed the ice pack from his face. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing too bad. Just red. Does it hurt?”

Eren shook his head, “I’ve had a lot worse but I’m not going to argue with Zeke about putting ice on it.”

“Yeah, I won’t either,” Niccolo laughed.

Zeke calmly reentered the house and shut the door behind him.

“So do we have a body to hide now?” Eren asked.

“No, I just kicked him out of the band. He was shit anyway. Then I smoked as I talked to Pieck. I have to go to Levi’s today. You’re coming with me,” Zeke said before he grabbed his coat off of the coat rack.

“Why do you have to see Levi?” Eren was confused. He didn’t even know Zeke and Levi ever really talked.

“Stuff,” was all Zeke replied.

“Can I tag along too? Sasha lives there too and we haven’t got to hang out much,” Niccolo asked.

“Sure,” Zeke shrugged.

“Okay, but what stuff?” Eren asked as he stood up and grabbed his coat off of the rack.

“I’ll explain once we get there,” Zeke replied as he walked back towards the front door.

Eren looked over at Niccolo who just shrugged as Niccolo grabbed his coat.

They made their way over to Zeke’s car before heading off in the direction towards Levi’s house.

[yikesharringrove]

you mentioned the possibility of Steve getting a c-section for their second pup? what if he did have to go through that and was stuck in the hospital for close to a few weeks aftee? sometimes a c-section can cause some near death situations for the mother giving birth so what if that happens to steve? and afterwards Billy ends up bringing his mango and sweet pea home but then instantly calling everyone in hawkins and telling them the news of sweet pea and also of steve? maybe some of 'em are the

Masterlist

Part 27.5

-

There’s a bunch of medical stuff right at the beginning. No gore but the doctor is describing in pretty graphic detail what happened to Steve.

-

Steve blinked awake in a recovery room.

His brain was all foggy.

The doctors hadn’t told him much before putting him under.

He was still unaware of what they had even done.

A nurse was checking his vitals when he looked up at her.

“Hi! You’re awake! I’ll get the doctor.” She smiled at him.

“My, can you get my husband? Billy Hargrove.” He didn’t know where the pup was, it they were even alive. He wanted Billy to be there if they had bad news.

The same nurse led Billy back in. He tossed the bag next to the chair, scooting the chair right up to the bed. He ran a hand through Steve’s hair, his other hand on his chest.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy you’re okay. I love you, Stevie.” Steve put one hand one his cheek.

“Mango?”

“Maggie came to pick her up.” Steve nodded. They both turned as the doctor came in.

“Do we get to know what happened, now?” Billy snapped.

“I apologize, we were unsure of what was really happening. We made a deep incision on your lower abdomen in order to get access to the uterus. The pup was breech and you were suffering from placenta previa. As you know, the placenta naturally detaches during the lat stages of pregnancy, however sometimes, as it is thinning out and detaching, blood vessels connecting the placenta to the uterus may tear, causing bleeding and pain. Your placenta had pretty much ripped in half, and was actually blocking the birth canal.” Steve’s eyes were wide.

“And, the pup?”

“You’re pup is perfectly okay.” Billy slumped forward, his head on Steve’s arm. He felt like he could breathe.

“Can we, can we meet them?”

“Sure, I’ll have a nurse bring them in.” He left the room again.

“Holy fuck. I am so relieved. That was the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever been through.”

“How long was I in surgery?”

“About two hours.” Steve scoffed.

“I can’t even imagine. I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It just sucked. Nobody would tell me shit. I didn’t even know if either of you were okay.” There was a short knock on the door before the nurse pushed in, wheeling a cart with him, bringing in their pup.

“Here’s your little one!” He handed the little bundle to Steve, who just fucking melted. He was beginning to tear up, looked at Billy to find he was in the same boat. “She weighs 7 pounds and four ounces and clocked in about 19 inches. We’ve taken all her vitals and ran some tests, but she is perfectly healthy.”

They were just staring down at their new little pup, the slope of her tiny cheeks, her long eyelashes.

“She’s got your nose.” Billy’s voice was soft as he ran delicate fingers over her head.

“Mina got outta that one.” He leaned down to her. “Sorry for the beak, Sweet Pea.”

“Come on, your nose is cute.” Billy kissed the end of his nose.

They took many pictures of each other with the pup, had the nurse take several of the three of them. They ended up going through an entire roll of film the first day.

Steve was told he would have to stay in the hospital for about two weeks for observation. They had to cut through tissue and muscle, wanted to make sure his sutures didn’t rupture. Hop and Joyce arrived the next morning, met Billy at the entrance.

They had picked up Mina on the way to the hospital, told her that her sister had been born.

When Billy brought them into Steve’s room, their little pup was kicking up a fuss while Steve tried to get her to nurse.

“Sweet Pea, I swear to God.”

“Put your tits away, we have guests. Don’t be obscene.” That had become their little joke ever since Steve had been told off in a restaurant by some assholes that said breast feeding a tiny Mina in public was indecent.

Steve just rolled his eyes.

“She’s being a baby.” He snapped the gown back over his shoulder. Joyce swooped in, taking the little pup from him.

“We got a name yet?”

“Zara Laurel Hargrove.” Billy had read that Zara meant princess, felt like it was perfect for this little pup who was such a little drama queen she needed to come into the world through emergency surgery.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” She opened her mouth in a tiny yawn as Joyce passed her to Hopper. He kneeled down so that Mina could peer at her. Billy took a few pictures as she gently rubbed her soft head.

“Sweet Pea! You’re so pretty!” She scampered to her backpack, digging through it to pull out a soft white stuffed bunny, with big floppy ears. “For Sweet Pea!”

Steve looked at Billy, his fingers covering his lips, was looking at him like this is the sweetest shit I’ve EVER seen.

“I should probably call the Hawkins folks. Did you two tell anyone? Not that we mind, I just gotta know who to call first.”

“We told Will and El, they send their love.” Billy nodded, excusing himself to make the rounds, call everyone they knew with the birth announcement.

-

I think you should go home tonight.”

Joyce and Hop had taken Mina to their hotel with them.

“And do what? Be by myself?” Steve shrugged. Billy had wormed himself onto the bed with him, they were laying next to one another, their legs tangled together.

“Take a shower.” Billy grinned at him.

“What, Pretty Boy? You think I smell?” He shifted to get his armpit in Steve’s face. “Is my nervous sweat permeating your sensitive nostrils?” Steve weakly bat him away.

“Bill, don’t make me laugh! I’m gonna pull my stitches.” Billy laid back, kissing Steve’s cheek. Zara started making choked off little cries next to them. Billy lifted her out of the bassinet, passed her to Steve so she could eat.

“I’m good to stay here tonight.” He snuggled closer to Steve. “Wanna stay with you and the pea.”

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Tma season 2 notes baybeee

I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.

ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one

ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon

ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.

ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!

ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!

ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr

ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.

Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.

ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body

ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao

ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim

ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.

ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before

ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay

ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?

ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!

ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please

ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1

ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.

ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.

ep 60: the eye go brr

ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires

ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?

ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.

ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him

ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.

So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.

Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye

ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?

ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.

ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.

ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.

ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.

ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)

ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!

ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?

ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.

ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.

ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.

ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?

ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.

ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.

ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

... Spy on the Sky’s

Alien’s Base’s Exist all Around the World and are one of the Mode Hidden thing’s and most dangerous thing’s t find more Dangerous then Fuck’n area 51 

Area 51 is a Joke 

i Mean thay got real Gun’s n thay Will Really shoot ya Ass or Arrest u for going there but it’s a fuck Joke 

the real shit to be Fuck’n up be the alien base’s .... Man fuck them ! 

Listen, i Be Check’n  Quick 

them there Alien Base’s Need to be SHOT THE FUCK UP ! 

but You Need to Be carful Some of tho mother fucking Base’s got Human’s in the Willingly ... Thay  from the Government n thay Work With the Gray’s as Part of the Agenda 

.... there Has Gotta be a Way to Pop dis Shit off and fuk thay shit up ! 

.... right no i’m Swamped out of Idea’s ... but if i see A Way to, Pop that shit and Keep the Police away, i Wil 

But i Bet i’ll Only Be Able to get back at the Gray’s n Another life becuz the( Usa ) Police have the Most solid and Omnipotent, Police force in the Entire World .... 

Keep that n Mind When thay swarm to fight = Death n the fact thay there = 75% you still Gonna die, Weather you White Black, Red Yellow ... Pale White ... Don’t Matter the Cop’s be Kill’n every Mother fucker ... ever your dog .... 

Human’s ... Not the enemy I’m gunning for ... but the Alien, Piece’s of Shit ..... 

that Put me here ... n the first Fucking Place 

Cal me Crazy ... n i Really Don’t Give a fuck .... 

I’ll find them and ..... 

... 

I’ll Not Leave the Base till there Craft is dead thay Dead n the Base n Burning 

Like i Said ... i’ll Never Give Up ... i’ll Never Give it .... 

I’ll Sacrifice My Fucking Soul in the Name of Revenge ! 

i type these Warning’s n the net So many time’s n Yet every now n then as a Heads up ... if you See some Crazy Shit Pop off ... later in Life 

And i bet the Cop’s be there .... Like a fucking, Worm U Ya ass there Alwasy where thay don’t Belong .. n Cop’s think Karma don’t work for them Cuz thay Cop’s n thay Magic Angel of God .... Btw god don’t got any Angel’s ... dat all Bullshit from the Mason’s as thay Created the Church ... the book is a Lie ... 

n This ain’t About that 

i Swear to god, i’ll not die till thay take them Mother fucker’s down With Me ... or i kill them 

i Won’t rest in till i Know the alien Gray’s are all dead .... i Swear to God n Vow it 

i Won’t Rest in till i Kill all of the Alien Gray’s 

n Yah ! to the reader of thsi ... i Kno thay be Nigh Omnipotent behemoth’s ... 

Every knight had to Learn at 1 point or another to Slay a dragon 

dragon Ain’t a Easy thing to kill n Neither is a fucking Gray alien Insectoid 

but i ain’t never Given up becuz thay ...... Done fuck up my Entire soul ... my fate and all that is me 

Thay fucked my soul up over there own Bullshit thay Agenda 

I’ll Never give up .... Never ......... 

I’ll Never, rest n even after i die ... i’ll Hunt those Mother fucker’s 

i Want Blood .... i Want Revenge n a Level so power only God with the Maximum of It’s Omniscient can Understand it ....... 

. . . 

I’ll Never rest .... 

.... Never 

. . .  

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/that-time-subterranean-al_b_5182945 

i’m ready for the fight .... Like a Fucking Rambo or a Turok ...  

Cuz i Ain’t Got, No Paranormal Power’s Like Like a dragon ball Z 

.... i’m as Raw flesh as u Can get ... No Power’s No Magic Ability’s BITCH I DOJN’T EVEN GOT GOOD LUCK ! 

IGGER ! I AIN’T GIT SHHHHHHIT ! 

n Even if the Agenda Work’s ... Witch is Highly Unlikely .... im’ma Still .... Wage War with them .... 

WhaT do these Shit for Brain Alien’s think i’m Not going to fuck them up Just cuz i Free n With my Kin After al the shit i Went threw .... n even if thay try to Wipe My Mind .... i’ll Never really forget becuz my Entire self is Obsessed  with Revenge n a degree No One Can Ever Understand . . .  

iz Obeying the Agenda .... but i Away .... 24/7 Ready to Pop off n Kill thay Ass .... 

Igga !