#fucking blue and yellow teenager from hell

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Back to Here - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Author's Note: One-shot request from the amazing @afroslacks! Title from Shade of Yellow by Griff

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place in Chapter 14. We once again face the horny fluff.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

When you’d told Ben you were okay with him touching you in front of everyone, your exact phrasing was as long as you’re not gross. You’re absolutely positive he’d heard you as well, because he’d rolled his eyes before kissing the words out of your mouth.

But the man doesn’t listen. On purpose. You know it’s on purpose, because usually he’ll grunt and grumble but do what you tell him, and right now he’s not even pretending to remember.

What’s annoying is that you’re not even that mad about it. What’s more annoying is that he knows you’re not mad about it, because he’s not even worried about you making him stop. Ben never pushes your lines to tries try see if he can make you budge, because he knows you won’t and he’ll get in trouble. But that also means he’s impossibly good at knowing what lines aren’t real. What things you tell him to do that you say because sometimes you just say stuff. Sometimes you’re just trying to pretend that you’re not always thirsty for him, don’t always want him at your side.

And the asshole has you figured out. He knows that when you say we’re going to team dinners every night you mean it, but when you say play nice with everyone you’re talking about everyone except Butcher. Ben knows that if you tell him clean up after yourself you’re serious, because that’s the start of it. Ben cleans up once and now, months later, you somehow trust him with your life and every part of you he’ll take. He also knows if you tell him we need to get out of bed he can just hold you tighter and you’ll immediately give in with a sigh.

He knows when you say not everything, not yet it’s important that he listens. That he can take everything else he wants except that, and he does. Ben touches you everywhere you’ll let him, but waits for you to give him the clear to take more.

He knows that when you said don’t be gross you just meant don’t make me visibly horny in front of everyone. Don’t make me grind into you or pin me on top of the table. 

And he is walking that line very precariously.

“Bloody fuckin hell,” Butcher mutters, and you can feel his glare from across the table. “You twats can’t keep it in your pants for one hour? Some of us are tryin to eat.”

“They are still in their pants,” Frenchie’s words are muffled from a mouthful of pasta. “And I am eating just fine.”

“That’s cause you’re a fuckin pervert, Mate.” Butcher snaps. “I didn’t come here to see two supes neckin like teenagers. I came here because Hughie gets all bloody puppy faced when I don’t.”

“You promised-“

Butcher cuts Hughie off with a scoff. “I’m here, ain’t I? And I would appreciate it if I could fuckin eat my shitty ass spaghetti without worryin that Soldier Boy’s gonna cum all over the table!”

A chorus of groans echoes through the room, and it’s almost enough to make you push Ben away.

Almost. But he drops his mouth to your neck, pulls you closer in his side, and you decide you can find a way to live with yourself.

You’re starting to worry that he can read your mind. Because before that brief hesitation even fades, Ben sucks the skin at the base of your throat once—sloppy and wet—and pulls away. You’re grateful, half because you can bury your flushed face in his shoulder as he gives Butcher a lazy grin, and half because you were getting dangerously close to climbing on top of him.

“It’s not our fault all you pussies have blue balls.” Ben drawls, and you kick him under the table, glaring up at his stupid, smug, handsome face.

Don’t be an ass.

He rolls his eyes. They’re being fucking prudes.

Benjamin.

“You two care to have this conversation out loud?” You turn to see MM looking at you with a bored expression. He’s never really pissed about this anymore, and you think he just gave up on being disgusted. He doesn’t like it, but he’s not mad. It’s honestly more than you could ask for.

“No.”

You whack Ben’s arm. “Sorry. We’ll stop.”

Ben scoffs, and hunches over his plate. His arm over your shoulders drops down, tugging you into his side so you can only move your hands—everything past that trapped against his body—and you don’t care. He’s touching you, and he’s warm, and you can feel his annoyance but it’s nothing compared to his desire. It’s nothing compared to the affection you can feel rush through him when you give him a smile, even if he just grunts and glares at his pasta like it’s the one that cock-blocked him.

You know it’s a lie. You might not lie to Ben, but you lie a lot to your team. You lie to Hughie when you say you like certain Billy Joel songs because you don’t want him to gape at you and try to convince you otherwise. You lie to Frenchie when you say you’d love nothing more than to hear about his latest supe-killing weapon, because he gets really excited—it’s kind of adorable—and sometimes it’s actually pretty interesting. You lie to Annie when she picks you up for lunch and asks—every time without fail—what’s going on between you and Ben. You say it’s complicated, but it’s not. It’s actually really simple: You want Ben more than you’ve ever wanted anything and he wants you but not like that, just as a friend he can fuck. And that kills you a little, so you’re trapped in this limbo where Ben can almost make you moan at the dinner table—but you won’t let him just carry you back to your bed and make you scream and fall apart under him—and Annie can give her a look that tells you she knows. She knows you won’t stop doing this. There won’t be more tonight, because Butcher’s still glaring at you and Hughie’s whole face looks like a tomato, but tomorrow the exact same thing will almost certainly happen. Ben will kiss you once, innocently enough if you’d only seen it in passing, and you’ll taste him, you'll feel the want pounding in his chest, and immediately pull him closer. The absolute fucking asshole always anticipates you keeping yourself against him—he plans on it—and his arm will immediately move over your shoulders, hand reaching your jaw to angle your head where he wants it. And then he’ll go and go and go until someone coughs—Hughie or Annie—or makes a remark—Butcher or MM—and he finds whatever line you have for the day. Then he’ll pull back and you have to pretend you’re fine with it. Like your pouting is because he’s being cocky and annoying and not because you wish he would pick you up and lay you on the table. 

It’ll happen the after as well, then again after that, then every night until Butcher either shoots one of you or you figure out a way to just attach Ben to you forever. 

End Note: They really can make any situation horny. Also if you've noticed I'm re-using gifs, yeah :( I am. Please sign my petition to make Jensen Ackles just do stuff in character so we can have more gifs.

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles

[ditizygirl]

Editblr is a breeding ground for idolatry, ableism, racism and so much more all for a community about putting images together.

I've been here for only a year but I feel like I've seen it all, and the excuses oh my god the excuses. You are all 15-19, you should not have the mental capacity of a 8 year old. Your common sense is non existent and almost all of you guys are so fucking stupid it's pissing me off more than any god can understand. You are old enough to have logical thinking skills, you may have a disorder and it may be a reason but not an excuse.

Alot of you have forgotten the saying "Think Before You Talk" and I've sure as hell done alot of thinking. This is my deep dive into editblr.

Ableism

Typing quirks are a way of personal expression but why do so much of you hate to add plain text. I can understand to extent because plain text hates my head because of how long it can be but I'm not gonna act like a little bitch about it. I'm gonna add my typing quirk or even fonts itself to it.

I'm gonna ask someone to help me, or to do it for me. Stopping making excuses for ableism. Alongside with the typing quirks, your psds are ugly and eyestrainy. Psds also fall under racism because I have no idea why you guys are ignoring the fact some make dark skin characters lighter but in the case of ableism most of them are really bright and makes it hard to see.

Orange and brown? Green and yellow? Blue and brown? Why are you putting colours that can be so much eyesore together? And won't even tag as eyestrain and when someone does ask you only do it for one post.

Romanticization

This one is weird as fuck and I see no one mentioning it. Editblr highkey has a ddlg problem, this "little girl" aesthetic you guys have going on borderlines ddlg alot and its icky. The baby talk typing quirk is disgusting, stop it.

I'm not one to judge how someone copes with their trauma but what I DO judge is how you act when majority says its uncomfortable. Now this section I'm a bit unsure how to phrase it, gotta love dyslexia, but that isn't going to stop me.

There's alot of very uncomfortable romanticization of stalking which I've seen so much of alongside abusive relationships and the justification of these things.

Racism

Really can't escape this one unfortunately. Many of you are like kpop idols, you're too dyslexic towards the difference between appropriation and appreciation. Incase you forgot let me remind you.

You can not gift japanese names. Gifting names is a native practice therefore you can only gift native names. Also I've noticed you weirdos befriending people just to use their cultural names. I can't even say it east asian fetishization because its only Japanese.

Also for the love of God can you guys stop saying nonmem and non women especially when referring to sexualities. It's not hard to simply say "queer attraction to women" and "queer attraction to men".

Coming back to the "gifting" names thing, I think it's interesting how all of you conveniently have a Japanese friend who "gifted" you the name of a cute pink anime girl. Maybe I'll do a post later on how much of a bad liar you guys are.

Closed symbols is also another big problem you all have. No matter how much times you're told you can't use something you always cry "but my friend from xyz culture said it was ok!" One person can't speak for a whole culture. You're nothing but a coloinzer in disguise hiding behind the idea of aesthetic. If you want to know if a symbol is closed just use this site.

Goddess Personas

Yea this one is getting a whole section of its own. Like any people I am uncomfortable with goddess personas, especially being someone with biblical sources. Now the idea that a teenager on the internet is making people call them a goddess is strange isn't it?

In my opinion, they're all annoying, copy and paste, and I think not a lot of people talk about how the really bad ones get. You all love to indulge them, make them think they have power over them. You put them on a pedestal and praise them and get surprised when it all goes to their head?

Stop giving 14 years old power, stop indulging in their habits and letting it go their head. Forcing people to refer to you as their goddess? Their Lord and saviour? Their idol? Someone they must listen to? It creates a power inbalance which always leads to the weirdest of manipulation. Also all the engagekiss copiers are so obvious why would you want to copy the identity of a groomer? It says alot of about yourself if that's what you think is ideal.

Callout Posts

Now, personally, I believe that the only reason a callout post happens is because someone was affected, does it not? Very rarely would a callout post would be a fake one, especially if someone has more then one. If you defend someone who has more than one call out post that's on you and you're gonna end up making one some day I can genuine you that. People don't make them for no reason.

This is all I have to say for now. I hope you guys really consider what I have written here, or not, considering the fact you guys have shown multiple times you lack reading comprehension

@starriesse @dollicous @doveinne @firstgf @kiochisato @lamboll @cherryshh @narcbf @lavendergalactic @npditary @sprinkleoverdose @necroangelz @eskeys

[greetings-humans]

suo hayato - martial arts rant

(minor plot spoilers for up until episode 4/chapter 8)

(all the stuff here also otherwise spoil suo's fighting style which you first see at ep 5/ch11-12)

now do you see this? (from ep 5)

and this (chapter 12)

so I have some experience in martial arts, like im a black belt in zendo ryuu karate do (a decently niche style of karate and like I also did a bit of jiu-jitsu, tho no competitions for any of these) but anyways this feels wrong.

now I don't claim to know all there is about martial arts but um. given the power behind even the weakest of punches (and kanumo (the opponent) survived shishitouren during its extremist phase so he can't be that weak), putting your hand in front of an incoming fist is a recipe for disaster and so much pain. the same can be said for attempting to... grab (??) the fist from above with your palm and your extended fingers, like you can see in the panel.

my poor, abused, tendinitis-ridden arms feel the pain for you, suo, please stop it.

we know from the manga, that suo isn't one of the people with "monster strength" (and those people also shouldn't be doing moves like this but I'll assume that monster strength also comes with insane muscle support on their arms/forearms/hands and they're also not trained in martial arts so whatever. let them make their mistakes since it doesn't hurt them that much) because suo is never described as having "monster strength" so him doing this is just off.

but, dee, you might say, this is a fucking manga/anime about teenage gangsters were you expecting realism??

as of episode 5 / chapter 12 (?), suo has confirmed that he's dabbled in mixed martial arts. you cant have him making these sort of mistakes for the shits and giggles.

and these feel like a decently basic mistakes, too. i asked my brother his opinion on this as a blue-belt in karate and he agrees with me that suo is off here. i asked my bsf (who has like a yellow belt in taekwondo but hasn't practiced martial arts in like nearly a decade) on an opinion on people using their palm to block an incoming punch and he thought that's weird. I asked google and even fucking wikihow disagrees with the palm thing.

like. use your opponent's momentum against themselves yes. but also.

nowhere is there a mention of stopping the momentum with your palm. your fucking palm??? hello??? or stopping the momentum by grabbing the fist like that?? who grabs a fist from above😭😭 suo look at your goddamn wrist. joints are scared of you.

out of the top of my head, suo is in danger of breaking his fingers or spraining/breaking his wrist or fucking up his elbow, or some funky combination thereof. and he's also definitely getting in some sort of trouble with his tendon. but c'est la vie, ig.

and btw. he has pulled this off correctly a few times in the manga.

chapter 11

in the bottom right corner you see him deflecting properly and safely. and then rushing ahead to get out of Kanuma's range (wouldn't want a falling Kanuma to grab him on his way down lol). no clue what his left hand is doing tho. even if he was attempting to assume a ready stance. what the hell is his elbow doing that high? and why is his palm open and looking away from him? fuck if I know, this doesn't look like karate but there are like thousands of schools of karate with different variations so who knows. it's vaguely giving king fu or jiu jitsu but take this with a grain of salt.

or this from chapter 68. also correct technique. don't come at me for spoilers btw, I've literally given you zero context.

tho to be fair, I'm a little confused as to the angle that he's hand is at? like it seems like his torso is in front of the punch (which vaguely makes sense because the other guy can presumably aim towards center mass aka torso), but like suo should already be moving his torso away so his arm shouldn't be reaching out from that angle. whatever. I'll forgive this. it's super minor.

10/10 for just grabbing the damn wrist instead of what he was doing before.

tho once again to be fair, I'm also a little confused about what his free hand is doing but whatever. and how did the other guy lose his balance? idk suo tagged at his punching arm hard ig. and giving the "whap" sfx then he might have somehow hit the other dude's leg? certainly not with his free hand cause given his stance, he's still not low enough to hit the foot or shin of the other guy (which is what the panel insinuates). unless he ducked? like crouched down while holding the dude's wrist and used his free hand to 'whap'? or maybe suo used his front leg? idk. whatever. still better than before.

nii satoru (the mangaka) so far seems great, because windbreaker has a nice plot and a fun, diverse cast of rather realistic teenagers (given the plot). he does seem to have a weakness when it comes to official martial arts styles, though, and that transferred towards the animation, as well.

hey wbk fandom give me your thoughts. idk if there are more ppl into wbk that also dabble(d) in martial arts but I'd love to hear your thoughts, especially!

[eldritchdiplomacy]

Bottom Table OT3: The Playlist

We, like Jinnah, will mourn our lads forever

(click for song explanations!)

Take Me Out To The Ball Game - Ed Meeker

"Eldritch Harrahs," He says, fingering the bright red laces on a baseball like a rosary

Team - Lorde

Classic poly theme, living in ruins.

"And everyone's competing For a love they won't receive 'Cause what this palace wants is release."

Ravenous - Autumn Orange

Impeccible vibes.

Eat Your Young - Hozier

Post-war heroes left in slums with their ghosts

"Come and get some Skinnin' the children for a war drum Puttin' food on the table, sellin' bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young"

Rhiannon - Fleetwood Mac

A shiny jade jewel in said slums

"She rings like a bell through the night And wouldn't you love to love her? She rules her life like a bird in flight And who will be her lover?"

Boats & Birds - Gregory & The Hawk

Children without souls

"If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea A depth of pure blue just to probe curiosity Ebbing and flowing and pushed by a breeze I live to make you free, I live to make you free…"

Hearts a Mess - Gotye

Sean Fucking Finnerty

"You have lost too much love To fear, doubt and distrust, it's not enough You just threw away the key to your heart Don't get burned 'cause nothing gets through It makes it easier, easier on you That much more difficult for me To make you see."

Love In The Time Of Socialism - Yellow House

Teenagers all in love with each other

"But I am home wherever you are near There's no life in anything When you're not here."

Whatever Fits Together - Skullcrusher

I mean…

"Do you ever look back? Does it all fit together? If we're here, does it matter? (If we're here, does it matter?)"

Marked For Death - Emma Ruth Rundle

Marion & Jean

"Who else is going to love someone like me that’s marked for death? Who else is going to be with me when I breathe it all?"

Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists

Marion & Sean

"And here I dreamt I was a soldier And I marched the streets of Birkenau And I recall in spring The perfume that the air would bring To the indolent town Where the barkers call the moon down The carnival was ringing loudly now And just to lay with you There's nothing that I wouldn't do Save lay my rifle down"

Hard Times - Ethel Cain

The Exorcists' Daughter

"Tell me a story About how it ends Where you're still the good guy I'll make pretend 'Cause I hate this story Where happiness ends And dies with you."

Edith's Theme - Crimson Peak

The Lighthouse

Say Yes To Heaven - Lana Del Rey

Sean & Jean

"If you go, I'll stay You come back, I'll be right here Like a barge at sea In the storm, I stay clear 'Cause I've got my mind on you I've got my mind on you…"

Sunlight - Hozier

Sean & Jean & Marion

"All the tales the same Told before and told again A soul that’s born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And, at last, can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight."

Your Protector - Fleet Foxes

The Circle of Needle & Thread

"As you lay to die beside me, baby On the morning that you came Would you wait for me? The other one would wait for me."

The Mother Road - Chelsea Wolfe

The doc who knows she'll never lead a normal life, have a normal love.

"I do not have a child But I'm old enough to know some pain And I'm hell-bent on loving you Women know what it is to endure."

Running Up That Hill - Placebo

All too stubborn to let each other die.

"Oh, come on, baby Oh, come on, darlin' Let me steal this moment from you now Oh, come on, angel Come on, come on, darlin' Let's exchange the experience…"

A Vampire's Heart - Peter Gundry

Doplegangers

Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

Jean, Sean, & Marion

"I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you…"

Oh, To Dream Of Such Eldritch Things - Autumn Orange

The Compromised Lightkeeper

A Shot Rang Out - Emily Jane White

Sean FUCKING Finnerty, Marion, Jean

"Dreamers we aren't few But I don’t want to bury my dreams with you."

The Ghost On The Shore - Lord Huron

Man down

"Die if I must, let my bones turn to dust I'm the lord of the lake and I don't want to leave it…"

Call Your Mom - Noah Kahan

You can't do this to Peggy, bud.

"Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me?"

Funeral - Phoebe Bridgers

War boys wearing the same face, so many hearts.

"And last night, I blacked out in my car And I woke up in my childhood bed Wishing I was someone else, feeling sorry for myself When I remembered someone's kid is dead…"

Francesca - Hozier

Jean & Marion re: Sean

"Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm since I was born How could I fear any hurricane?"

Is Your Love Strong Enough? - GWTDT

"Just one beat of your heart And stranger than fantasy I knew from the start It had to be the place for me Someone that I would die for There's no way I could ever leave."

Death With Dignity - Sufjan Stevens

The Survivor

"Spirit of my silence I can hear you, but I'm afraid to be near you And I don't know where to begin And I don't know where to begin…"

My Love - Florence + The Machine

The Next Step

"My arms emptied, the skies emptied The buildings emptied…"

[woomeme-land]

Undertale: A domino effect and a fucked up situation and people are stupid

Huge fukin swears and Undertale and Undertale Yellow spoilers and exaggerations also Undertale Yellow is all you mfs think about huh

I just wanna ramble about the lore and the moral implications of everything I can remember after playing the game and having a major skill issue on Undyne the Undying.

Ah, Undertale, the game where no one has to die... For the most part.

And now it's time for the domino cycle.

Starting from the beginnings, humans and monsters lived in relative peace until a war broke out. Why? Because humans were afraid of the monsters' ability to absorb their souls. How the fuck would they even know this? Did it happen before? Did somebody tell them? Either way, it led to a war (or just a massacre) and the subsequent sealing of monsterkind under Mount Ebott, the mountain Where None Returns.

Some time in the 2010s a kid named Chara fell down and didn't automatically die on impact with the hard ground. The prince Asriel finds them and brings them to King Asgore and Queen Toriel. Even though Chara was of the same species that almost wiped their own species out and imprisoned them under a damn mountain the monsters accepted Chara as their own. A symbol of hope for peace between humans and monsters.

Until Chara and Asriel (mostly Chara manipulating tf outta Asriel) come up with the botched plan to collect the human souls necessary to free monsterkind (and potentially start another war (or just another massacre))

It fails because Asriel chickened out last minute as he (they? Chara is a part of him, right?) was attacked by the townsfolk because Chara as Asriel decided to take their own body back to the village without thinking of the consequences of people seeing what could've been a horrific beast holding the body of a child. Even if the people could see that there were no signs of being attacked or resisting attack, they probably assumed that Asriel poisoned Chara.

Anyways, Asriel dies in front of Goat Ma n Goat Pa. Goat Pa makes a declaration out of anger and grief that any human that falls afterwards must die so that monsterkind can be free... And also destroy humanity. Asgore you fucking idiot.

Toriel dips when Asgore and the entire kingdom needed her the most, and considered she was the brains of the Royal shit, things wouldn't be so good. Toriel you fucking idiot.

Also going back to the All Humans Must Die thing

All of the humans who fell afterwards were children.

Or teens.

Teenagers are merely big children.

Okay, they sure as hell weren't adults though.

The situation with Asriel and Chara could've led to monsters being aggressive to the humans who fell, especially during the early moments since the declaration

And the humans would've been aggressive back, causing a cycle

One of the children, let's say Integrity (because we love the silly blue ballet dancer) entered the underground during a highly aggressive time, possibly because of one of the previous humans' aggressive actions. The aggression from monsters might've led Integrity to believe that all monsters were vicious bloodthirsty beasts, causing them to get aggressive towards monsters.

That in of itself caused a domino effect: Integrity gets into a fight with Dalv with Kanako being in a close proximity. Either Dalv or Integrity fled, but Integrity went to Waterfall and faced a gruesome death at the hands of AXIS. Chujin commits treason by harboring a human soul and experimenting on them, using himself as a test subject. Integrity's extract killed Chujin from the inside out, either because of the 'corruption' or because of Integrity violently lashing out at the guy who played a massive role in their death. Chujin you fucking idiot.

The Jin's final wish to The Roba is to complete his work. Problem: The Roba knows jack all about anything relating to STEM, so what was she gonna do? The Jin's other final wish is for Kanako to not get involved in this situation. She gets involved because she's a child who possibility can't comprehend the situation properly. Also gets injected with the Integrity juice and falls down because she was insistant on helping.

Time skip to when our favorite cowchild Clover jumps down looking for the other kids (clover why would you look for kids that would be long dead by now you fucking idiot. It wouldn't even matter if there's wasn't a whole century) Clover is Doomed by the Narrative and damned to die no matter what. Except for the ending where they COMMIT MASS HOMICIDE. Had Clover just not reset at the end of the Vengeance Route, they would've made shit so much harder for Frisk when they fall.

Oh yea, Frisk. The CHALD. The kid is attacked alot. And that leads them to kill. That could cause a domino effect. A post UTY Vengeance Underground could be highly hostile towards humans because well... A human decimated a large portion of the underground just like the several other times.

Holy shit this is so fucked up

[mrhyde-mrseek]

I know I just showed y’all my favorite OC, but does anyone want to see my OLDEST OC?

It’s Libra Nox! I’ve posted a drawing or two of her here before, I don’t know if anyone remembers the few posts I made about my WIP The Haunted and the Hollow, but it took a WHILE to get there

2018-2019

I was a warrior cats kid in 7th grade, and I loved wolves, so obviously I made my own warrior cats ripoff trilogy with wolves instead of cats (I don’t remember what it was called though unfortunately)

Libra/Twig was originally a boy, and his name was Twig (but I’d planned on changing it later in the story for plot reasons)

He had two moms (yay lesbians)

I made so much art for this I WISH I still had some of it 😭

In the story there were these magic wolves with wings that were basically gods and controlled different elements (like fire, water, plants, light, etc.)

Libra/Twig was one of these (I think he controlled the stars which was how he got the name Libra??)

Originally I was gonna name him Virgo but decided that sounded too feminine (oh how the tables have turned)

Fun fact, this story birthed ANOTHER character I’ll probably talk about in another post

2019-2022

Libra was still a guy but now he’s a human with fire powers

I think he was like 14?? He barely had any adult supervision though, the only technically adult around him long enough to be considered supervision was 18

This story had the same winged wolf gods from the previous one and was also a trilogy, I don’t really know how to explain what the plot was because it was complicated as fuck and constantly changing

It was called Nox Chronicles

Yes that was his actual outfit, I know it’s boring as hell, I wish I’d chosen a different color for his shirt because it looks kinda weird with the light blue

He didn’t have two moms anymore, he had an adopted family who hated him for literally no reason (I was still on the Harry Potter hyperfixation train in 2019)

I think he was the only one of his superpowered friends who could communicate with the wolf god creatures?

It was at this point I decided he was bi

He might’ve had wolf ears at one point, I don’t remember

Edgy badly written teenage protagonist

2022-present

Libra’s a girl now!! Yay!!

She’s still bi

(THIS is the Libra from The Haunted and the Hollow I was talking about btw)

She has a GOOD FAMILY NOW with a TWIN SISTER and a LOVING SINGLE MOM and is MUCH more fleshed out character-wise

She’s a witch, as is the rest of her family

THIS. STORY. HAS. PROPER. COHERENT. LORE. AND. WORLDBUILDING

She’s autistic and has social anxiety

She’s gonna have a girlfriend!!

Her special interest is cryptids and cryptozoology

I gave her cute little glasses and an actually decent outfit/color scheme

She’s still 14 but she has actual adult supervision (she goes to a summer camp)

I kept the fire but but changed it from controlling fire (too destructive and flashy) to divination using fire

She loves the color yellow. Just thought I’d share that :)

[kogetaikid]

A False Awakening is a phenomenon where one thinks they've just woken up when they're clearly still dreaming

Sup guys, gals and nonbinary pals! Feel free to call me KogetaiKid, Kogetai or Kiddo!!!

ALT/OC BLOG (Not in use at the moment.)

MY DEVIANTART MY YOUTUBE MY BLUESKY

I'm currently NOT taking any art requests at the moment.

-she/her; 🩷💛🩵pansexual🩵💛🩷

-Time Zone: PST/PDT

-minor.

-Only child (and I fucking HATE IT)

-Part-time conspiracy theorist

-I like Anxiety from Inside out two and Perseverance soul form Undertale :)

-Diagnosed Neurodivergent (Got that autism ✨D R I P ✨)

-Interacial

-Nihilist

-Psychology nerd

-Cross Country Athlete

-Very cynical

-No DNI, but will block anyone who makes me feel uncomfortable.

-I post both fanart and original art

-Self taught artist/writer (currently working (and possibly failing) on multiple projects)

SOME OC REFERENCES

(Not like anyone will care, but good to have them anyways)

D!0X!D3: TR!0X!D3 and X3’3N (Prologue-Chapter 3) Web Hell: Enera (Modern Utopia) IMLS Chronicles: Darla My Snowy Orphanage: Main Cast

WEBCOMIC STAND

D!0X!D3 HAS OFFICIALLY MOVED TO DEVIANTART

D!0X!D3: Prologue 1 D!0X!D3: Prologue 2 D!0X!D3: Prologue 3 D!0X!D3: Prolouge 4 D!0X!D3: Prologue 5 D!0X!D3: Abandonment; Part 1 D!0X!D3: Abandonment; Part 2 ILMS: Just Like Mel; Part 1 ILMS: Just Like Mel; Part 2 ILMS: Just Like Mel; Part 3

Epiccc Storiez!!

ILMS Chronicles: Yahaira's story ILMS Chronicles: 4/22/** ILMS Chronicles: Out In Nature ILMS Chronicles: Watching the Sunset

WRITING (Also EPICCC!!!!)

Sunrise Heights An Insect Before Its Death Contemplation Compilation Accidental ILMS Lore The Thirst for Cheap Dopamine

epicness gaLORE!

Epicland Studies #1: Universal Ketakomian Beliefs

TUMBLR OC MAKING CHALLENGES!!!

(My greatest success of getting something that was my own idea popular!)

LUNA

*Y don’t ‘cha see what ur gonna see in the future? (READ PROJECT DESC)*

EPIC CLUB (Main Project)

(TLDR: Some alien lore shit that involves goofy ahh aliens, goofy ahh adventures and trying to avoid nihilism)

No one knows how they've got here, but they have. In the middle of the universe in the andromeda galaxy, in a planet called Epicland. exist the color spirits to fight evil and bring colors to the world. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple and gray. (Andris, Lorgzee, Kedmile, Yodion, Imimika, Sotti, Zaxregea, and Enieu) One day, the red spirit wanted to become human-like. What happens next

…

Gray skin, red eyes, what the hell am I...?

Andris, now a nine year old girl named Melody Cohen, nothing much to say about her. Unless she was able to meet up again with someone, who might ve been, a secret true sister...

DIOX!D3 (On hiatus; pronounced "Dioxide”):

D!0X!D3 (pronounced “Dioxide”): ANARCHY AGAINST CONTROL. On an alien planet called Epicland, and abandoned child called Melanie gets adopted into an anarchist society called Syr-Ko’s Children Anarchist Society! (SKCAS for short). No adults allowed, you get kicked out when you’re 30. In this society, children run the game, with a plan to eliminate the ones who control us and make their world r0b0t!c. You’d wonder to yourself:

WH0’S THAT L!TTL3 R0B0T FR3!ND 0F Y0URS, K!DS?!

I Love My Sister Chronicles (Secondary Project)

(It's honestly more like a saga, but it wasn't until a few days ago that I remembered that word...)

Dreams are weird, especially when two simple hours could sometimes feel like an entire lifetime. April 22, 20**: A girl named Yahaira falls victim to this unfortunate phenomenon, thus creating me, us, everyone. In my early years, I always wanted a sister, but the never happened. My mom always says she wanted two girls. I tell her she ended up with me instead; an amalgamate of what could've been her two girls.

As I entered my teenage years I noticed something very off about the world, so very unreal, and I start to become lucid in this dream world.

I remember that I'm someone's little sister. Melody's little sister, Yahaira. I'm now piecing together the complicated puzzle of who I was, who Melody was, and what happened before I entered this dream. The first and most important thing I keep in mind:

I LOVE MY SISTER

(Coming "Soon")

VQ895

Welcome to LABORATORY! Here, many fusions of multiple organisms for all over galaxies called hybrids live. To these hybrids, Laboratory is the entire world for them, but to a hybrid named Vertā Quantin (half Artificially Made Human, half Wolfcat) unveils this lie. But it could it be…

SHE WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE?!

WEB HELL (TW: Dark humor)

8/5/2255 - The World Covered in Screens.

“WELCOME TO MODERN UTOPIA! THE MOST GYATT OHIO MEGATRONIC THEY/THEM UWU PLACE IN DA WORLD!!!!!!!! MY NAME IS FINLEY (they/them, if u m!$g3ñd3r u a h8 cr!mer)”

“T0DAY, HERE ARE [[10!]] REASONS Y U LOVE MORDEN UTOPIA!!!! :):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):)(( “

…

In this world, you only have an illusion of humanity. You only have an illusion of decision, an illusion of freedom, an illusion of bargaining, an illusion of friends, an illusion of creativity, diluted by algorithm. You can’t escape, there’s no need to escape. YOU LOVE IT HERE…

One-off projects (coming soon):

My Snowy Orphanage: A VHS horror about a group of cartoon kids teaching children to kill.

A Very Necessary Story On A Very Lonely Kid: Born 4/23/1999. A young boy named Brayden Mendez. No friends, no sibling, Brayden hasn’t meet anyone besides his parents until kindergarten. Isolated from humanity, he’s left to rot in his loneliness until he finally breaks.

And even his afterlife doesn’t spark a friend.

The Last Feeling Child: In present day time, a young teenage girl named Esme Adler, mourns over the past she’s never experienced. A past before phones, IPads and immorality.

There are a few more in the making, but that’s all for now :)

[xx-meat-clown-xx]

its so strange that so many people think that their identity is static and never changing. so many people are terrified of queer kids being wrong about their identity and it being a "phase" and like? everything is just a fucking phase man.

not to be all dipshit bleeding heart hippie on main but everything that we are is transient. right now i identify as an adult. in 10 years I'll be middle aged. after that ill be older, then ill be elderly.

we were babies, then children, then teenagers, now adults. the you that signed up for a psychology major and switched to business (you monster/j) is still you. the you who realizes that your favorite color was actually blue instead of yellow is still you.

the you who loved blue is still you, the you who has a passion for psychology is you, and it's a part of your story.

so the fuck what if a teenager identifies as a lesbian and grows up to realize he's a straight man? so the fuck what if the enby asexual 13 yo grows up and realizes they're cisgender and bi?

nothing about us is static, we are in a constant state of flux. we do not owe it to anyone, even ourselves, to be something easily definable. we are a collection of all our past experiences and we are molded by time.

14 years ago, I was a bisexual trans man. 10 years ago, I was an asexual trans man. now, im a demisexual non-binary man. the past labels i used aren't some sort of tragedy, i wasn't harmed by coming to the wrong conclusions. we are always discovering new parts of ourselves, why are demonizing giving names to our own experiences? why are we cautioning against self exploration and discovery?

idk man i just think, like, the world won't end if some cis person realizes they're not trans in the same way the world won't end if a 50 yo man realizes she's a woman. and maybe she wasn't a woman before, maybe she was a man until today--last year she changed careers from IT to accounting and she survived that too. and you too can survive being wrong about who you are. if you can't be wrong about at least who you are what the hell can you be wrong about?

[wizardofarles]

Lord, You Keep Me Crawling

Chapter Five: The Devil You Know — Part One (Auguste)

Cold stars stared down on Auguste from the great bowl of blue-black sky like a thousand uncaring eyes. He tore down the sidewalk, passing through intermittent pools of yellow streetlights and black night; never remaining long enough in either for his eyes to fully adjust before he burst through to the next. His breath was coming hard and fast. He could not put that house, and Laurent, and their uncle, and that whole mess of a dinner behind him quickly enough. He felt like such a fool. He shook his head roughly. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t think about it; the betrayal stung like grief, and Auguste had no room in his heart for more grief.

A chill wind was rising, tugging at his clothes and hair with cold fingers until he shivered. A drink will warm me up, he thought, as well as clear my head. I need a drink.

With a mind to call Jord, he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer. His heart sank as his hand closed around nothing but the empty inside of the pocket. “Oh, fuck me,” he swore aloud. He’d left his damned phone at the dinner table.

Tugging at his hair, he spun in a helpless circle. Jord’s apartment was in the city, and Auguste was still in the suburbs, not yet a mile from the house that now belonged to the DiAkielos family. This area was sleepy at night. No one else was out on the sidewalks, and only a handful of cars had rolled by since he’d left the house. Even if he’d had any way to pay them, there weren’t any cabs crawling these streets at this hour, and without his phone, Auguste couldn’t even call an Uber.

He grabbed a stone from someone’s rock wall—a ragged thing about the size of a baseball—and hurled it into the blackness of the road with all his might. He let out a wordless scream of frustration, followed by a string of colorful curses that would have made the devil clutch his pearls, if Auguste had still believed in such fanciful things as heaven and hell.

A bang like a gunshot rang through the dark street. Auguste ducked, his heart leaping into his throat. His hand flew reflexively to the back of his waistband, reaching up under his blazer where his fingers curled around cool and reassuring metal. He strained his eyes against the dark but saw no movement. He listened, and heard only the blood drumming in his ears. Then he remembered the stone. Relief swept over him like a warm breeze. It had only been the stone, crashing into the pavement somewhere far ahead along the road.

Just like that, he came back to himself, remembering where and when he was. The sound of gunshots was unknown to uptown Arles suburbia. There was no enemy lurking in the shadowed street. A breath of embarrassed laughter rushed out of him. He uncurled his fingers and smoothed his blazer back down into place, reconsidering his current predicament.

There was nothing to be done for it, he realized with a kind of bleak acceptance. He couldn’t go back, so Auguste walked forward, toward the lights of the city.

He showed up at Jord’s some hours later; cold, sore, and thoroughly miserable. His friend didn’t need to look at him for more than two seconds with his wise gray eyes before he declared, “You look like you could use a drink.”

Auguste had never come so close to kissing another man on the lips in his life. Instead, he tried a weak smile. “You could say that.”

The bar Jord took him to was dirty and loud. Some trashy song Auguste didn’t recognize blared from unseen speakers, competing with the sounds of various sports game reruns on the television screens hanging above the bar, and boisterous waves of human laughter and conversation. Auguste’s shoes stuck to the floor with every step as he followed Jord to a booth at the back.

Auguste had always liked places like this. He had started going out to seedy bars and clubs back when he was still a teenager using a shitty fake ID to buy his booze. Jord had been by his side then too, as well as Orlant, with shitty fake IDs of their own.

Though, much of the appeal back then had come from the knowledge that he wasn’t supposed to be there, and that places like that would frighten and repulse his old-money parents. Now, all he cared about was the beer in his hand. And Jord, he reminded himself belatedly, I still care that Jord’s here.

He took a slow swig of his beer. It was a thick stout, dark and yeasty just the way he preferred. It wasn’t strong enough to get him truly drunk on its own, he knew—even as he worked on his second pint—and the hangover would be killer, but the buzz was pleasant and it calmed his mind. He took another long gulp, savoring the rich taste and feel of the beer on his tongue. Hangover-be-damned, he thought to himself, that’s a good beer.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” he said around a thick swallow of beer. He had been recounting the events of the disastrous dinner to Jord. “He’s so good, you know. He’s really fucking good—like, prodigy good. And he’s throwing it all away. His whole future.”

“He’s just a kid,” Jord reminded him gently.

“I know. I know he is,” Auguste sighed. “I just always thought that his future was secure. That was one thing I never had to worry about. He had such a clear place in the world. And now … now what’s he going to do?”

“Anything he wants. Look, Gus,” Jord said and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “If I can be blunt here for a second?”

Auguste bowed his head in a go ahead gesture.

Jord rubbed his chin idly, his watchful gray eyes on Auguste’s face. “I don’t think that Laurent quitting the violin is what’s making you so upset. I think this has more to do with him not telling you that he quit.”

“He should have told me,” Auguste agreed. “Something so important …” He ran his thumb through cool beads of condensation on the side of his glass. “We used to be so close.”

“Maybe he was worried you’d be disappointed in him. Shame makes people do all sorts of things that don’t make sense.”

Shame? Auguste shook his head. “No, not Laurent. He does what he wants and doesn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks of him.” I wish I had half his confidence, especially at his age.

Jord shrugged. “Maybe he was afraid you would be angry.”

“I am angry,” Auguste bellowed over the din, causing patrons’ heads around the bar to turn in his direction. He lowered his voice, “Why shouldn’t I be angry? He lied to me for years.”

Jord gave him a long, knowing look.

“That’s not the same,” Auguste jumped to defend himself. “What happened in Marlas—”

“You nearly died.”

The scar on his chest itched accusingly. “Well, clearly I didn’t.”

Jord did not relent. “You don’t think your family deserves to know? You don’t think Laurent deserved to know a year ago that he might have lost his brother?”

“I kept it from him to protect him,” Auguste growled. Heat simmered beneath his skin, boiling up into his face.

“Protect him from what? His chance to say goodbye?”

“I didn’t die!” Auguste didn’t realize he was shouting again until three burly men seated at the bar turned to stare. One was a giant of a man with lank black hair and a grisly beard. Judging by the crookedness of his nose, he’d seen more than his fair share of fistfights. His two companions were dwarfed by him, though they were not small men by any other measure. One had close-cropped red hair and red cheeks to match, and the other had a jaw so square it could be used as a straight-edge. Those two quickly went back to their drinks and conversation, but the huge man with the grisly black beard continued to stare.

“What?” Auguste snapped at him. The man slowly raised a thick black eyebrow, then treated him to a blood-curdling grin. Auguste turned back to his beer with a shiver and took another long swallow.

“But you could have died,” Jord said, expertly ignoring the man at the bar. “By all rights you should have. I saw the shot. I saw you fall. And all the blood. So much blood … Half an inch to the left and your life would have ended before the sound of the gunshot hit my ears. It’s a miracle you’re still here.” Jord’s voice had gone soft and tight. He was no longer looking at Auguste, but off toward the windows with a distant look in his eyes.

Auguste was struck with a wave of guilt. “I don’t believe in miracles,” he replied, suddenly feeling deflated. “It was you who dragged me out of there. But I don’t want to talk about Marlas.”

He visited that godforsaken place every night in his dreams, and sometimes even when he was awake. Those times were scarier. One moment he would be sipping coffee on his back porch, and the next he was caught in the ambush on that dusty street in Marlas, pinned between the enemy troops advancing from the east and a barrage of unexpected gunfire exploding out of the forest on the far side of the river, with no cover and no escape but south, through a village full of blind spots and potential hostiles. He was running blindly through a rain of a thousand tiny metal deaths, shouting to his men as they dropped in droves around him with twitches and violent jerks as clouds of blood and gore burst from their bodies like grotesque red fireworks. No hand of God reached out to shield them. Auguste had buried his faith that day, along with twenty-three of his brothers-in-arms.

Worst of all were the dreams of the alley behind the church in the village. Every time Auguste’s nightmares brought him to that alley, he was terrified that this time Jord wouldn’t find him, he wouldn’t get out, and he would be trapped there forever with blood dripping from his hands while those wide brown eyes stared into his soul accusingly. Perhaps I do believe in hell after all, he reflected with a shudder.

Laughter exploded from a table at the other end of the bar. Auguste expelled a ragged sigh, rubbing his palms roughly over his face. His cheeks were scratchy with stubble he’d have to shave off in the morning. “I just didn’t want Laurent to worry,” he said at last. “I wanted to save him some pain.”

“Gus,” Jord said, placing a warm hand atop his own on the table, “it’s his right to worry about you. That’s love.”

“Love is exhausting,” Auguste said wearily.

Jord breathed out a laugh. “It is. And it’s invigorating.”

Auguste smiled. “You and your contradictions.”

Jord’s tone was solemn. “I’m not the only one. You say you were protecting your brother. What about now? Why have you still not told him? He’s not in danger of losing you anymore.”

Auguste pulled his hand back, feeling his mood turn sour again. A small, vigilant part of his mind registered that the man at the bar was still watching him and Jord. The hair along Auguste’s arms stood up. His fingers twitched, itching for the cold grip at his lower back.

Jord didn’t seem to notice the men, or didn’t care. He caught Auguste’s eye again. “You know what my therapist says? He says that we don’t keep secrets to protect other people. We keep them to protect ourselves.”

“I don’t think I like this therapist of yours,” Auguste grumbled. “And I don’t want to talk about Laurent anymore either.” He chugged the last of his beer and flagged down a waitress for another.

“All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“How are things with Orlant?” Auguste asked.

Jord sighed deeply. “Oh, you know,” he said. The vinyl booth squeaked as he slouched back against it. “Great. Except he still doesn’t want to tell anyone that we’re dating.”

“Jesus, it’s been how long now?”

“Four years in November,” Jord said with a bitter smile.

“I thought the hiding was supposed to be over once he signed with a team.”

“That’s what he always promised, but now another year has passed and,” Jord spread his hands helplessly, “here we are.”

A waitress glided over to the table with Auguste’s beer. She was beautiful, with a dancer’s perfect posture and long blonde curls. She smiled at him when she set down the glass, but it was a shy smile. Auguste couldn’t say why he found that disappointing, or why he had expected her eyes to be ice blue, but when he saw that they were hazel and guileless, he lost interest. He offered her a tepid smile in return, which seemed to leave her almost as disappointed as he felt.

“I’m sorry, man,” he said to Jord when the girl had gone. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Nah,” Jord said, and smoothed his palms over the table. “I’ll talk to him. My therapist says I need to work on confronting the conflict in my life rather than avoiding it.”

“Speaking of which,” Jord said with forced brightness and pulled a small white card out of his wallet. “I have something for you.”

He held the card out between two fingers, and Auguste took it hesitantly. Silver foiled letters were printed onto the thick card.

Dr. Paschal

Adult, teen, and child psychiatrist, family therapist, marriage counselor.

A phone number, address, and email were printed below. Something sour twisted in Auguste’s gut as he stared at the little card.

“I’ve got all the therapy I need right here,” he grumbled, raising his glass of stout in mock toast.

“I think you would really benefit from what he has to offer,” Jord plowed on, heedless of Auguste’s darkening mood. “His advice is really solid. He could just be a friendly, professionally-trained ear to talk to, at the least. Someone who’s paid to not judge you. He could help you deal with Marlas, and your—”

“I don’t need a shrink, there’s nothing wrong with me,” Auguste cut him off sharply, his temper shortened by the drink. Then, seeing the hurt on his friend’s face, he backtracked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“That there’s something wrong with me? No, it’s cool. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can’t say I ever imagined hearing it from you, though.”

“Jord,” Auguste began. He searched for the right words to repair the damage he’d done. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Actually I don’t, Auguste. You haven’t been yourself lately. Maybe not for a long time.”

“What are you talking about? I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

Jord’s gray eyes were full of sorrow. Auguste was overcome with an absurd wave of guilt. He had no intention of using the card or going to therapy, but he slipped the card into his pocket anyway.

“We should go,” Jord said. “Early report at the base tomorrow, remember?”

Auguste hadn’t forgotten, but he wasn’t nearly as drunk as he needed to be before he could even consider going home. “Not yet. Come on, let’s stay a while longer.” Then, with a grin he wished was real, “Let’s do shots.” He waved the pretty waitress back over enthusiastically.

“No, no way,” Jord protested. “I can’t handle hard liquor like when we were young.”

In the end, Jord acquiesced and allowed Auguste to order a double round of tequila shots, but when he tried to order another round, Jord cut him off.

“No, Gus, that’s enough,” Jord said through his tequila-induced grimace. “Besides, I didn’t inherit deep pockets like you.”

“Come on, Jord,” Auguste pleaded, “I’ll pay you back. You know I’m good for it.”

Jord shook his head. “No, I’m calling it. It’s time to go.”

Auguste leaned back in the booth, the vinyl protesting with a squeak beneath him. “Go, then. I’m staying.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jord flashed him a mocking grin. “How are you going to pay without me? You don’t have your wallet. How are you going to get home? You can’t show up to base tomorrow hungover.”

“Fuck you, man,” Auguste grumbled. “You used to be fun.”

Anger flashed in Jord’s gray eyes like lightning behind a cloud. “Fuck you. You used to be my friend.” He scooted to the edge of the booth, as if to leave.

Auguste slid along with him, holding out a hand in a request for Jord to stay. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Something bumped hard into his elbow, jostling him in his seat. “Watch it,” Auguste barked at the big man who’d brushed by their table.

The man stopped and turned around slowly. It was the black-bearded man who’d stared at him from the bar. “You watch it, prettyboy,” he grumbled in a voice like gravel poured over a mountain.

“Excuse me?” Auguste felt his blood rising.

Jord grabbed his wrist. “Gus, don’t.”

The man lumbered closer, eyeing Jord’s hand on Auguste’s wrist. A vicious grin split his face. “I’m curious,” he growled. “When you two fairies fuck, which one of you is the man, and which one takes it like a woman?” His two companions moved up behind him, snickering.

Auguste shot up from the table. “The fuck did you say?”

“Auguste, please,” Jord hissed between his teeth.

The black-haired man’s laughter was cruel and mocking. “Why so angry, princess? You got something to prove? I bet your little boyfriend here is the man, out of the two of you. You act real tough, but I bet you squeal like a sow in heat when he fucks you into the mattress.”

Auguste sprang at the man before he had finished the last word. He had quick reflexes for such a large man, and caught Auguste’s fist in the air, clasping it in a meaty hand as big and hairy as a bear’s paw. Auguste pushed against the iron grip, and shoved at the man’s other shoulder with his free hand. They struggled, grappling with each other’s arms. The burly man’s arms were like corded stone beneath the rough sleeves of his jacket.

Jord was tugging on his sleeve and shouting at him to stop. Auguste ignored him, grit his teeth, and threw his whole body weight into the struggle, feeling the strain in every burning muscle, but his feet were starting to slip backward. The other man was stronger than him. He wasn’t going to win a battle of brute force.

To drive the point home, the burly man shoved hard, seeming to gain more strength out of nowhere, and sent Auguste reeling backward. He slammed into a table, the edge of it bruising his tailbone instantly as dishes clattered and a glass shattered to the floor.

A woman who was seated at the table shrieked, and her companion fell backwards out of his chair. Other voices added to the cacophony; wordless cries of shock and excitement, and others yelling encouragements or dissuasions.

“Fuck him up, Govart!” the red-haired, red-faced man shouted as Auguste pulled himself to his feet.

The black-haired man—Govart—took a menacing step forward, but Auguste ducked up under his guard, swinging his fist. His knuckles struck home, connecting with Govart’s mangled nose with a satisfying crunch.

Govart’s head reeled back, and he stumbled a few steps backward, clutching his nose. Thick blood poured out between his fingers.

The bartender was shouting something Auguste didn’t catch, likely calling for security.

Auguste’s victory didn’t last long. His next swing was clumsy, which he had his three beers and two tequila shots to thank for—plus the wine at dinner, and Govart dodged it easily.

The blow that Govart landed on his left eye nearly took his head off his shoulders. Auguste went sprawling to the floor, ears ringing. The bar was spinning around him. He grasped at the sticky wooden floor for support, but it didn’t stop, only kept on spinning. His stomach lurched dangerously.

Pain burst along his side as a boot slammed into his ribs. He barely had time to register the first kick before another followed, and another, each more brutal than the last. He curled into a ball in a primal attempt to protect himself.

The ringing was fading from his ears, and he heard Jord screaming, “Stop!” Then Jord was down on the floor in front of him, falling on his ass with a thud that Auguste felt through the floor.

Auguste didn’t remember losing consciousness, but when he came to he was on his feet, being herded out the door by the bar security guard. He glanced around frantically for Jord, and was relieved to find him shuffling along behind him, seemingly unhurt.

Govart and his buddies were nowhere to be seen. Hopefully they’d already been thrown out, or left the bar on their own.

Outside the bar, the blue night rushed up to meet him, enveloping him in its cool embrace. Auguste took in a deep breath, allowing it to refresh him.

Jord brushed past his shoulder, storming down the sidewalk in a silent fury.

“Jord,” Auguste slurred, jogging to catch up to his friend, “I’m sorry.”

“Your goddamned temper is going to get one or both of us killed one of these days,” Jord snapped, but he slowed down to allow Auguste to fall into step beside him.

“That guy was an asshole,” Auguste protested.

“Yes,” Jord agreed, “a very big, very strong, very violent asshole. Not someone to pick a fistfight with.”

They turned a corner down a quiet alleyway. The hairs on the back of Auguste’s neck stood up, but Jord seemed confident in his navigation, and Auguste trusted his friend’s knowledge of the city above his own, so he followed without complaint.

“I could have beaten him if I was sober,” Auguste said.

Jord slowed and leveled him with a significant look. “But you weren’t sober.”

Anger clawed up Auguste’s spine. “You’re the one who suggested drinks.”

“A drink. I suggested a drink, in the singular” Jord retorted. “And how the hell are you planning to explain that black eye to—”

“Did you hear that?” Auguste cut him off, spinning around. He thought he’d heard a noise behind them, but when he squinted into the moonlit alley, he saw nothing but shadows. They listened in tense silence. Distant laughter rolled down the street they’d come from like thunder, and music was playing faintly from somewhere far off to the right—the bass thumping like the city’s heartbeat. “I thought …”

“It’s nothing,” Jord decided. “Let’s go. I’m tired.”

They hadn’t taken two more steps before Auguste heard it again. It was unmistakable. Footsteps echoing behind them, moving just slightly out of pace with their own. He whirled around again, without warning, and this time, he saw the shadows move.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Show yourself, coward!”

“There’s no one there, Auguste,” Jord said with a hand on his elbow.

“No, I heard footsteps,” he insisted. Adrenaline was hammering in his veins, making it hard to hear anything now over his own heartbeat. Fuck it, he thought, and pulled his gun from the back of his waistband.

“Show yourself, or I start shooting,” he bellowed, creeping toward the shadow with his gun trained on the shifting darkness.

“What the fuck?” Jord’s voice was shrill. “You had a gun on you this whole time? Why the hell do you have a gun? Put it away!”

Auguste heard another sound, closer now, like gravel shifting beneath a shoe. He stepped closer to the shadow, not even daring to breathe, his finger hovering over the trigger.

An ambulance raced down the street at the mouth of the alley, temporarily flooding it with light. Two more guns materialized out of the darkness to match his own, the barrels reflecting the flashes of red and blue emergency light, and both pointed directly at Auguste’s face.

“Freeze,” Square-jaw shouted, as the redhead yelled, “Drop the weapon!”

The world slowed to a crawl as the redhead pulled out a badge, and Square-jaw pulled a pair of shiny silver handcuffs out of his pocket. Moonlight glinted coldly off the metal.

Govart emerged from the shadow last, and stepped up behind his two gun-brandishing cop friends, smirking. “Oops.” Blood dripped down from his crushed nose into his mouth, painting his teeth red.

The ride to the jail in the back of the police car was a blur. He’d lost Jord somewhere along in the process. Which was good, he supposed, because if Jord wasn’t here, it meant he hadn’t been arrested.

Auguste stood in front of the wall-mounted rotary phone, where an officer had told him he could make his one allotted phone call. By now, his eye was beginning to swell and his head throbbed with every slight movement. The handcuffs had left angry red rings around his wrists that burned. Auguste picked up the grimey black receiver, and hesitated.

He almost called Jord, then stopped himself. While he didn’t think Jord was the kind of man to let his best friend rot in jail just because he was angry with him, Augsute knew he couldn’t afford the bail. Orlant could, but probably wouldn’t answer the phone, and there was no way Auguste was going to call his uncle. He floundered for a moment, racking his brain for another friend with deep pockets he could call, until the answer came to him like a ray of sunlight in the dark, and he dialed the number. The phone rang three times, and Auguste began to worry that he wouldn’t pick up.

“Hello?” His godfather’s voice came through at last, clear and steady, untouched by sleep. Auguste vaguely wondered what he was doing up at this hour.

“Berenger,” he breathed out with palpable relief, “thank God. It’s Auguste. I, uh, have a small favor to ask.”

Within the hour, Auguste was ushered through the release process and handed over to a very disappointed-looking Berenger.

“What were you thinking?” Berenger chastised from the driver’s seat as he drove them down the streets of Arles. The night grew darker as they left the city behind and drove farther into the suburbs. “This kind of behavior will get you kicked out of the military, Auguste. I imagine you’re in for a world of trouble as it is.”

Auguste ground his teeth and tried not to pout like a child. In truth, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He had been specifically trying not to think, but he couldn’t say that to Berenger.

The song playing on the radio caught his attention. He cranked up the volume to its maximum.

“Rocket maaan,” he belted along with Elton John, “burning out his fuse up here alone!” He drummed on the dashboard, grinning at Berenger and encouraging him to join in. “And I think it's gonna be a long, long time, ‘til touchdown brings me 'round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home, oh! No, no, no! I'm a—”

Berenger reached across the steering wheel and hit the button that controlled the radio, killing the song instantly. Auguste blew out a long breath through puffed cheeks. “Okay,” he muttered.

After that, they rode in silence for a while. Berenger had always possessed a grim, stony sort of face, though handsome in its own way, but it was made grimmer now by the disappointment etched into the lines on his forehead and beside his mouth. Shadows hung beneath his eyes. He looked a decade older than when Auguste had last seen him, two years ago.

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” he finally asked, keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

Auguste scratched at the base of his neck. “A few,” he mumbled defensively.

Berenger’s sigh was deep and weary. “I worry about you, Auguste. You know what I see here? I see you walking in your father’s footsteps, and not down a good path. I loved your father like a brother, and there was plenty to love about him, but he wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes. Mistakes that hurt the people who loved him. I don’t want to see you making the same kind of mistakes.”

Auguste’s head was suddenly full of his father’s roaring voice. His muscles twitched—his body trying to cower from remembered fists. The smell of alcohol on his own breath turned his stomach. He ground his molars together, his jaw tight as a steel trap. “I’m nothing like my father.”

“Aleron raised you to fill his shoes, Auguste,” Berenger said, matter-of-fact, but not unkindly. “He created you in his image. That doesn’t mean you have to pray to him every night, or follow the path he laid out for you. You are your own man. Make your own mistakes; don’t repeat your father’s.”

Auguste had nothing to say to that. He stared out the passenger side window, watching the streetlights zip by overhead like falling stars. It was beautiful, and dizzying—or maybe that was the alcohol. Sleep tugged at his consciousness like a siren, pulling him slowly and sweetly under the waves.

He had almost forgotten Berenger was there when he spoke again, shaking Auguste free from the siren’s grip. “Jord told me you walked straight to his apartment from a dinner party.”

“Jord talked to you? When?”

“He called me just before you did,” Berenger said. “Why did you have a gun on you?”

Auguste shrugged, feeling embarrassed about it now. “Never walk into enemy territory unarmed.”

“Enemy territory?” Berenger repeated softly. “The war is over, son. You’re home now.”

As if to prove his point, Auguste’s parents’ house rolled up into view, the blue paint ghostly gray in the moonlight. My house now, he reminded himself. But he was pretty sure he would always think of it as his parents’ house, regardless of the name on the deed.

The car ambled to a stop in the driveway. Berenger had a pensive look on his face and seemed as though he were going to say something more, so Auguste waited. Drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, Berenger asked, “How’s Laurent doing?”

“Oh, he’s good,” Auguste said, “yeah. I mean, I just found out that he quit the violin years ago, but yeah, he’s, uh … No, he’s all right, I think.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Berenger studied the house through the windshield, a frown creasing his forehead. “It must be lonely, just him and your uncle in that big house. Not an ideal situation for a young boy. I’m sure he’s thrilled to have you back.”

Don’t ever leave me again, Laurent had whispered into their hug at the airport. But he felt colder than the bright little brother Auguste remembered; a distant star, his light only a thin memory by the time it reached earth and human eyes. And there had been that look he’d exchanged with their uncle the night of Auguste’s return. It had been only a little glance, but Auguste had felt the weight of it like a freight train slamming into his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said, staring at his hands in his lap. The knuckles on his right hand were split and bleeding. He hadn’t noticed that until now. “Uncle and Laurent have their own … whole thing. I’m an intruder in my own house.”

Berenger sighed again. This time, it sounded pained. “Nonsense. Auguste, look at me.”

Auguste did. Berenger’s expression was solemn, his brown eyes holding Auguste’s gaze with intensity. “I work in journalism,” he went on. “It’s my job to see the truth behind the smoke screens. And if there’s one truth I’m certain of above all others in this world, it’s that your brother loves you.”

“Sure,” Auguste said with a sad smile, “but loving someone and wanting them around aren’t always the same thing.” His gaze fell back down to his bloody knuckles. “I make him nervous.”

The purring of the engine was the only response. Berenger seemed to have run out of life-lessons and reassurances, or maybe he was cooking up a big one. Auguste decided to change the subject before he had the chance.

“Speaking of Laurent,” he said lightly, “can you make it on Saturday?”

“Saturday?”

“The thirtieth. Laurent’s birthday.”

“I remember.”

“He’s having a party. Well, really, our uncle is having a party and using Laurent’s birthday as an excuse.” At the mention of his uncle, Berenger’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Did you not get an invitation?” Auguste asked.

“I didn’t.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Well, consider this your formal invitation,” Auguste said with a grin. “Brunch is at ten, can you make it?”

“Auguste,” Berenger said slowly, “I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“What? No, I’m sure your invitation just got lost in the mail or something. Come on, Berry,” he pleaded, “we haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you, and so does Laurent. He would be thrilled if you came to his party.”

Berenger considered in silence, frowning out at the house. He looked back over at Auguste, something in his face softening, and he sighed. “I suppose I could make time to stop by.”

“Fantastic,” Auguste grinned. “Laurent will be so happy to see you.”

“All right, off you go. Be sure to ice that shiner,” he advised.

“Yeah, I will,” Auguste said as he climbed out of the car. “Thanks again, Berry. I’ll pay you back in full.”

“No, really. Don’t worry about it.” He cut off Auguste’s protest with a wave of his hand. “I’m serious, I won’t accept repayment. This is the least I can do for you and your brother. Let me do this one good thing.”

Auguste was going to protest, but the earnestness in Berenger’s face and tone of voice made him drop it and accept the kindness. “Thank you,” he repeated, more solemnly this time.

Berenger nodded. Auguste closed the car door and started walking away toward the house.

“And stay out of trouble!” Berenger called out his window when Auguste had the handle of the front door in his grip, “Next time I will ask for repayment! With interest!”

Auguste laughed and waved him off. He stood on the front step and watched Berenger’s silver car disappear down the road, leaving him alone in the pre-dawn hush, with only the pale moon and fading stars for company, and the promise of a sunrise on the horizon.

He struggled with the front door until he remembered that it was a push and not a pull, and fell stumbling forward into his house, laughing. The darkness inside the house reminded him to be quiet, so he swallowed his laughter and tried not to slam the door as he closed it. Only after did it occur to him that he had no key on him, but luckily the door had been unlocked.

He saw soft light in the living room, a lamp turned low. A shadow shaped like his uncle sat on the couch in the near-dark, blocking the lamp from view.

“Uncle—”

“Shhh,” the shadow shaped like his uncle shushed. It sounded like his uncle too.

Auguste teetered into the living room and threw himself over the back of the other couch with a sigh. When he rolled over to look at his uncle again, he was no longer blocking the lamp from this angle. Auguste was able to see him where the light fell on one side of his pale face, cutting his profile as sharp as a knife. His eyes traveled down, pulled by a spill of pale hair in his uncle’s lap. Laurent was curled on the couch, using their uncle’s thighs as a pillow. His face was smooth and peaceful with sleep, and his breaths were deep and slow.

“He wanted to wait up for you,” his uncle whispered. He stroked his fingers through Laurent’s hair like he was petting a cat.

“Well, I’m—”

“Shh!” Uncle snapped.

“I’m here now,” Auguste whispered.

“Better that we don’t wake him,” his uncle said softly. “He sleeps little enough these days. You’ve been drinking.”

“I went out with Jord.”

His uncle hummed without expression. Auguste wished he could tell what the man was thinking. Laurent was always better at reading people, especially reading their uncle. The two of them had some sort of connection that Auguste didn’t understand. It seemed even stronger now, like it had grown in his absence. He had been jealous when he first noticed, but now, watching Laurent sleep in his uncle’s lap, he realized he’d been selfish.

“Thank you,” Auguste said solemnly, “for always being there for him. For protecting him when I wasn’t around.”

His uncle tucked a wisp of Laurent’s hair behind his ear with a slow trail of his fingers. “I only did what anyone would do for someone they love,” he murmured.

“No,” Auguste insisted. “You did what I should have done. You’re a far better man than me.” Maybe he was drunker than he’d realized. The warmth of the alcohol in his blood had loosened his tongue, making it easier to say things he had never put to words before. “When Dad died, I thought … Part of me was relieved,” he said with a laugh that was half a sob. “I thought, ‘there’s one less thing to protect him from’. That’s horrible, I know. But I was only thinking about … I should have stayed with him a little longer. He was only a kid … He’s lost so much. I’m glad he never lost you.”

Laurent’s long golden eyelashes fluttered. Auguste wondered what the boy was dreaming about. He hoped it was a pleasant dream.

“Here,” Auguste mumbled as he staggered to his feet, fighting against the way the room swayed around him, “I’ll take him upstairs.”

Uncle smiled. “You just worry about getting yourself safely up the stairs. I will take Laurent to bed.” He placed a proprietary hand on the crown of Laurent’s head.

Auguste was relieved. The stairs did seem daunting enough on their own in his current state, without having to worry about dropping his brother. “Thank you, Uncle. Good night,” he said, and began stumbling up step-by-step.

In his room, he belly-flopped onto his bed with a sigh. As an afterthought, he pulled the card Jord had given him out of his pocket and tossed it onto his nightstand. His eyes closed heavily, and he careened toward a deep and dreamless sleep.

Auguste woke to violent explosions of pain in his head. It took him several seconds of agony to realize that the source of the pain was a sound—and the sound was coming from his alarm. Groaning, he squeezed the lock button on his phone to snooze it. A knife of white light streamed through the seam where his curtains met in the middle, stabbing through his eyes directly into his brain. He wrapped his pillow around his head to shield his eyes and snoozed his alarm again.

The third time his alarm went off, he peeked an eye open to check the time. 6:18 a.m. He had to report to the base today at 0700 hours sharp. If he had any hope of making it on time and not looking (and smelling) as thoroughly hungover as he was, he had to get up now. When he dragged himself to his feet, the room lurched and swayed around him like a ship caught in a storm.

I need a drink, he thought foggily. A little hair-of-the-dog should steady me.

He rummaged through his desk. At the back of the lower right drawer was a bottle of rum he had hidden there before leaving for active duty. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. The burn was satisfying and seemed to lessen his headache immediately—though that was probably just the placebo effect, but Auguste didn’t question it. If it worked, it worked. He replaced the cap, then hesitated. He removed it again and took another gulp of rum, just to be sure he drank enough to rid himself of his hangover.

Drinking before breakfast wasn’t a habit Auguste was proud of. Though, it did provide him with some insights. For one, he finally understood why his father used to pour whiskey in his coffee in the mornings.

Auguste studied his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. His left eye was throbbing and swollen almost fully shut, the skin around it puffy and purple.

“Just like old times, eh, Dad?” he asked the mirror with a bitter smirk.

He spit and rinsed his mouth and vowed to never get so bad as to drink his daily coffee with whiskey. A little rum before breakfast once in a while was completely different. He needed it today.

He scrubbed the bar stink off himself in the shower until his skin was pink and stinging. Then he dressed and rushed out the door without a word to his uncle or Laurent who were sitting at the kitchen table, refusing even to turn around when Laurent called out to him so that his brother wouldn’t see his bruised face. That’s a problem for later, Auguste told himself in the solitude of the garage, and climbed onto his motorcycle.

[complete-idiot-in-love]

Once Upon a Witchlight: Episode 43 (SPOILERS)

This episode is so good because of the mushroom people curse, I've included some lines my S/I would say and the songs they're riffing off

ANDY AND DEREK SWITCHED SPOTS, I DON’T LIKE IT AHHHHHHH

MUSICAL EPISODE??? MY S/I WOULD BE SO HAPPY

Frost singing rainbow connections YESS, I LOVE THAT SONG

I love it when Andy does his lil dancy dances, he is so gender

Shroombek is a moldy mushroom lmao /j

Imagine my S/I's mush-sona, mushroom with horns lookin ass

Michael Jackson Gideon!!

I love all of Derek's references, bro is so good at comedy

Death metal Gricko is so FUNNY!!

I swear to god if Twig is dead again bc of mushroom shit I will scream

TWIG NOOOOOO, WAKE UP!!!

I love this episode already because of singsong Torbek and Death metal Gricko

Torbek and my S/I would definitely be duo dancing, besties who binge musical theatres are besties forever (more like I force him to watch them w me >:3c )

Gideon is so sad because of his rhythm being stolen, F’s in chat for my fire dad

"Just dance! It'll be okay, gid a do do. Let's dance! And kill that hag fam do do do do!" - My S/I (Just dance)

Bard era in this episode fr fr

"So tell me do ya wanna go, kill a fuckin hag tonight? Run away after we fight? Impossible maybe to you, it's what we gotta do whoa! This is the greatest curse!!" - My S/I (Greatest Showman)

Torbek talking naughty as usual with his "hairy mushroom"

Are we lost in the forest lmao

CANON TORBEK HEIGHT? HE'S 7FT?? (If Andy has mentioned this before, I'm fuckin stupid /j)

Gricko trying to day-o (The banana/beetlejuice song) the bird and therefore getting disadvantage on his roll is so FUNNY TO ME, LIKE HE WOULD USUALLY BE SO GOOD AT ANIMAL STUFF BUT WITH THIS MUSICAL CURSE HE SUCKS ASS!!!

PLUS 8??? GRICKO IS OP AS HELL WHEN IT COMES TO ANIMAL SHIT (makes sense tho cause of the whole “druid w an owlbear daughter thing”)

“Torbek! Is a big hairy mushroom!” is gonna be my new stim phrase I swear to the gods

In my mind, their mushroom colors are: Torbek = Pink, Gricko = Blue, Frost = Green, Kremy = Purple and Gideon = Red (I'd be yellow because my two fav colors are already taken)

“This is little green to purple bird” YES, I LOVE THAT NICKNAME FOR GRICKO AND I LOVE THAT IT KEEPS COMING BACK!!

“Help! We are stuck as shrooms, I don't wan’t to sing to death!” - My S/I (Stop! in the name of love)

Oh no, pixies! Please Gideon, don’t fuck them!

“Bumpin noses” sounds very suggestive coming from the bird

“I've got candles and rations galore, you want makeup? I've got plenty!” - My S/I (Part of your world)

Is she a phoenix now? Because that's cool af Nikkie

“Roll Athletics or Acrobatics” HAHA JOKES ON YOU I'M PROFICIENT IN BOTH!!

“They'll bust in your mouth, watch out” HAHAHA YEAH AND SO DOES FROSTY!!!

BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM BUM “ARE YA READY??” ARE YA.. REAAAADY??” I love my alligator dad so much

Torbek and Gideon are pixie attracting CHADS

Mikey's commitment to still trying to say deez nuts jokes is so good, like Gricko would definitely forget about the fey pact and try to do it

“PULLON DEEZ NUTS!!” *Gricko and My S/I high five*

Kremy being really good at makeup is CANON IN MY HEART. WE GIVE EACH OTHER TIPS ON FOUNDATION AND EYELINER AND SHIT (We both have disguise kits)

Torbek reminiscing about Reada Flaugh and Gricko reminiscing about Busty

YOOO, ARE THE WITCHLIGHT PIXIES FAKE???

Torbek is a teenage boy with his horniness and libido /j (I still love my bestie tho)

THE BEEZLEBERRIES MAKE A CAMEO YESSSS

GODS DAMN IT KREMY, DON'T HURT TORBEK FOR MORE “WITCHES BREW”

Frost and Kremy talking about meta stuff in their voices just makes me think of an “Actors Au” where this is all a movie that they’re acting for and ITS SO FUNNY TO ME

Torbek, dear. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOU “Squeeze out some Torbek juice.”

Torbek’s one hard no is house piss kinks?? Bro is wild fr fr

Torbek and Andy are so deranged, I love the gremlin activities

YOOOOOOO NAT 20 FOR TORBEK!!!!!

Torbek eats a cigar and my S/I has to find the fey equivalent to bleach for their eyes after watching him “Milk” himself

Alligator husband offers to make fire husband uwu death whey protein powder, very cute

CARLFISH RETURN YESSS (also carlatafish omg!)

Pixies love my fire dad (-_-)

Kremy and Gideon are a poly couple where Gideon gets all the babes and then Kremy swindles them out of their money /j

Disgruntled wife Kremy is so damn funny

Divorce arc for my dads /j

Gideons home depot asshole XD

Family dinner of Carlfish :)

Uh ho, Frosty teleported us in his sleep /j

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Veronica + apocalypse AU

this ask is SO old. but–

1. Dear diary, the answer was hell. We were never going to make it to prom. Hell is much easier, though, because we were already headed toward it before Heather ever died. Even JD couldn't have known. I definitely didn't. Westerburg High is gone. So's Heather Duke, I think. Bitch that she might have been, she still didn't deserve to die. None of them did. I haven't prayed since Heather's funeral but I'm doing it again now.

2. Westerburg is one of many. Veronica is so caught up in bloodied hands and a boy who was a bomb that she misses the ones falling all around, darkening the sky. Ms. Fleming even goes silent when she realizes what's happening, foam finger falling from her hand as she gestures wildly to call the gawking teenagers inside. Heather Mac has a panic attack in the bathroom she was about to kill herself in, and Martha Dunnstock falls, her scooter tipping over in the chaos.

Veronica catches Martha even though soot gets on her purple sweatshirt, and they stake out a corner underneath the bleachers next to the goths. Teachers are screwing with the P.A. system to try and address the school, but feedback nearly pops a few eardrums. Betty Finn stands stock-still in the middle of the room for five minutes watching a smoke-darkened blue form settle a round, purple one, and when she realizes what's missing (the little sunshine, yellow-bright cheerleader to everyone but herself), she goes and fishes Mac out of the bathroom stall herself.

3. Dear diary, I miss my parents. They never really knew me, or at least not the me I really am, but they knew me, you know? They're my parents, and I don't even know if they're still alive.

It's been two weeks, and there's a new quartet at Westerburg — me, Heather Macnamara, Betty Finn, and Martha Dunnstock. I didn't realize that taking Chandler's scrunchie from Duke would be the last thing that ever happened to her. I don't even know how she died. Maybe she panicked and ran outside. I hope it wasn't painful.

I still have the gun from with JD, and his knife. I hope I don't have to use them. Everyone's been pretty civil, so far, and the teachers have organized people pretty well. It isn't the cutthroat culture we had under the Heathers. I don't know what it is now, but I think I'm helping build it.

4. Westerburg High School becomes a center point in the midst of a falling world. Heather's red scrunchie becomes a beacon for everyone who gathers there — Veronica Sawyer started a war, and came out the victor. Veronica Sawyer is a tragedy in oversized sooty clothes. Veronica Sawyer has the respect of everyone in that mangled gymnasium by virtue of a dead girl's hair tie and a living one's voice. Veronica Sawyer is a dead girl walking who made it through a bomb and a gunfight and stalks through the school halls with a cigarrette and smile for anyone who needs it. She never had a chance to tell anyone the war was over because a bigger one began just after hers ended.

Veronica Sawyer stands on a blocky speaker and says "Listen up, folks!" and they all do.

"We're all freaks and we're all damaged and we're all terrified, and that's alright."

She turns to the girl sitting on the stage, clad in purple, who nods, and Veronica nods back.

"We have a stovetop and we have Jiffy Pop and we have a movie Martha rented a month ago. Tonight, whatever else happens, we're going to watch a movie. Something with a happy ending."

5. Dear diary, my teen angst BS seems really stupid nowadays. Even Heather's death, even Ram and Kurt, all that seems so long ago and so, so stupid. Everything got so big so fast and I don't know when my world blew up, except that it started when JD did. I wish I'd spent more time softer, before, instead of having to go through all that and the end of the entire fucking world to figure it out. I wish I'd been better before, been nicer to Martha and to Betty and to Mac and not just because they're all I have. Now we all have each other, though, and I don't know if that would have happened otherwise. So.

I think my parents are dead. They may not have understood all the time but they loved me. If they were still around, they would have come looking by now. It's nearly Christmas.

At least we still have electricity. One of the younger boys found decorations in one of the storage rooms, so we have lights everywhere we can reach. Ms. Fleming brought the cinnamon candles from her office/bedroom into the gym yesterday, so it smells like the holidays, too. I don't know if anyone will have gifts, but at least we have the lights. We can still make it beautiful.

~ V.

[kathyprior4200]

Helluva Boss S2 E7: MAMMON'S MAGNIFICENT MUSICAL

Part One: The Prelude

“Alright, folks! Give it up for the king of all things greeeen!”

A cheering demon crowd had gathered for a spectacular concert in the Greed Ring. Green-colored spotlights hovered over the heads of the crowd while strings of round green lights arched up into the sky. Large glowing spiderwebs of magenta and neon green were spread out across the stadium and over circus tents and flags. The round stage was made of old moss-covered ship parts that jutted out haphazardly in every direction above it. Pink rectangular speakers stood on either side and Mammon’s sigil glowed magenta upon the curtains. A tattered flag of Mammon’s smiling jester face waved from the very top of the stage. Green flames sprang up in a circle around the outside of the stadium as the crowd grew excited.

A female imp with short black hair did a “horns/rocker” gesture with her hand next to another demon wearing a green and black jester hat. A pink succubus wore a neon green bra, while another imp wore green glasses, a green shirt and two glowing bracelets on her arm. A male imp with white hair and a nose-ring waved his fist in excitement.

The announcer boomed, “Hell’s number one clown! The money-maker himself!”

A screen popped out from under the stage floor and “MAMMON” appeared in bold green letters with white dots that lit up, spun, and dinged like a casino sign.

“The sin you all looove most: MAMMON KING OF GREEEED!”

Among the crowd of demons dressed in dollar-sign shirts and Mammon hats, was the teenage duo of Blitzo and Fizzarolli. The two imps had gone to the concert as friends together before the horrific future circus accident. Teenage Blitzo had braces on his yellowed fangs, a black spiked collar on his neck, green-yellow pants, black boots, and a black tank-top with “Mammon” in green-yellow letters. Teenage Fizzarolli, with red face and large stripped horns intact had a torn short green-yellow shirt with a black “M” and a dollar sign on it, along with green-yellow bracelets, dark pants and green-yellow boots with black puff balls on them. He had neon green eye make-up over his red-yellow eyes.

Four green firework flames shot out into the air from the stage. In a bang of green lightning and smoke, the towering jester appeared in showers of confetti.

“Heya, implings!” he greeted. He wore large high black boots, a layered white jester outfit and in the center of his chest was a gold button with a dollar sign on it. He had four slender arms, one of which held a yellow-green electric guitar with a gold star on the end and a gold jester crown shape on the head of it. Green and black striped leggings covered his legs and a white and black large jester hat with a black dollar sign on it was perched on top of his head. Yellow bells hung from his hat. Sunglasses were over his eyes. He slid down to the ground in a pose, holding the guitar in three of his hands. Two hands were white and two were black.

“How’re your little (*clown HONK sound*) doing tonight?! I hope you’re ready for the best fucking show you will ever see in your shit lives!”

Mammon peered close with a sharp-toothed grin as more flames shot into the air. His tongue was long and purple with yellow stripes.

Blitzo, Fizzarolli and the crowd jumped up and down, chanting “Mammon! Mammon! Mammon!” Blitzo did “rocker” gestures with his hands.

“Right,” Mammon continued. “I got tons of really fuckin’ cool shit for you ‘ere tonight, but first…”

He twirled his guitar in one hand and slammed it upright on the stage. Mammon’s sigil glowed neon green behind him.

“How many of you worthless bitches wanna be big clowns like me someday?”

“I do, I do!” yelled Fizzarolli.

“Me, me, me, me, me!” yelled Blitzo. The teens jumped up and down.

“Well, I’m happy to announce that I will be starting up a new, yearly clown pageant!”

A screen above him read “MAMMON’S SUPER RAD AS FUCKING SHIT CLOWN PAGEANT!” “Fucking” was in red, “rad” and “shit’ were teal blue, and the other words were green.

“YEEAAHH!” the crowd cheered as the green fireworks shot from the stage again. Dollar bills rained into the crowd.

“You know like one ‘a them fucked up beauty contests, but for clowns, so it’s BETTER!”

“IT’S BETTER!” The sign flashed the words as pointed arrows pointed at the sign. More green fireworks, raining money, and hollers from the crowd.

“Just for all you aspiring clown kids out there!” He picked up a small boy imp (a younger Wally Wackford) with thick round glasses and overalls. “A new chance to work with me, Mammon!” Mammon pulled the kid to his face in a hug, the boy smiled, eyes wide.

Blitzo flinched. Fizzarolli stared at Mammon with wonder-filled eyes and an agape expression.

“And to be the new face of my clownish brand!” Mammon continued. Wally Wackford yelled as Mammon shot him back into the crowd like a rubber-band.

“I can’t wait to see all the new talent I can exploit…um…fuck.” Mammon stuttered, almost revealing his greedy intentions. “Wait I mean…enjoy!” He laughed nervously. “Uh, watching me grow my empire!” He spread out his arms before putting his hands on his hips.

“Also, if you’re a chick, maybe give up on your dreams now. ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie: women just ain’t funny.”

Comically, the show’s producer, writer, and director Vivienne Medrano’s name appeared briefly on the screen.

“ANYWAY! My plan is to find the new face of my brand! YEAH! So, they gotta bring the good shit! The winner will get to be like the son I never had! And I’ll be like the stepdad that will love you when it’s convenient!”

Blitzo was disturbingly reminded of his own manipulative father, Cash Buckzo, who loved money and Fizzarolli more than him.

“Wow!” admired Fizzarolli, Blitzo giving him a look.

Mammon continued. “You might be a lunchbox, an action figure, Saturday morning cartoon. Hell, I might even make a sex robot of ya! I don’t know! I mean, if it’ll make money, sure. But it’s not weird.” He glanced around nervously.

He then pointed to a short white-haired male imp wearing glasses, and a yellow-green Mammon hoodie, “You’re weird, you sick fuck!” Next to the imp was a female wearing a bra with dollar signs on them and a green streak in her black hair.

“And if you say it’s exploitation, fuck you!” Mammon stuck his nose in the air. “It’s not exploitation! If you think that then you’re a dickhead!”

Crickets chirped as the crown went awkwardly silent.

“Anyway, CLOWNS!” roared Mammon as the crowd erupted into cheers again.

“ALRIGHT, LET’S GO, YEEEAAAHH!” One of the imps had a ring on his horn.

The cheers turned to panicked screams as an army of clowns pounced onto the crowd.

0 0 0

In the dark green Greed sky, a glowing neon green coin spun slowly like a moon. It had an “M” and a dollar sign on it. Blitzo and Fizzarolli walked home after the concert, old warehouse buildings around them. Overhead were round streetlights shining red still spotlights.

“Alright, I’m gonna say it,” Blitzo began with a chuckle. “That was too many clowns.”

“I have to win that pageant someday,” Fizzarolli exclaimed. “Can you imagine how amazing it would be to get to work with him?!”

Blitzo glanced at his friend. “What’s the point? Isn’t being the star of our imp circus enough? Plenty of people already know who you are, Fizz. You don’t need to go work for Mammon like some creepy mascot.”

“It’s not about that!” Fizzarolli said. “It’s getting to work with my idol. I just love that he’s giving someone new the chance to be in the spotlight! He’s an inspiration!” He stared dreamily at the sky; hands clasped together.

“Well, he’s…definitely something alright,” Blitzo mentioned as they walked under a red streetlight. “I mean I dunno, was it worth all our savings just to have him put on an over-hyped commercial, and then bitch about taxes, and then assault us with clowns, vomit, and pass out on stage?”

Fizzarolli laughed. “So worth it!”

Behind a streetlight post, a horned figure with glasses spied on the imp duo. The streetlight flickered ominously as the shadow darted off.

Fizzarolli sighed. “Blitzo, do you think I could win if I worked really hard?”

“I think…” Blitzo began and smiled. “I think if anyone’s gonna be the new clown face on everything…”

He rubbed Fizzarolli’s face affectionally with his fist and laughed. “…it’ll be you, Fizz.” Fizzarolli smiled.

“Holy shit, you’re Fizzarolli!” cried a voice in front of them. Blitzo and Fizzarolli stopped short with surprised expressions. “Oh MAN! Your stuff is great!”

A red streetlight shone on a tall lanky imp wearing a green shirt, black pants, and square glasses. He had white hair and a beard stubble. His name was Arick “Burnie” Burnz a.k.a. “Creepzo”.

Fizzarolli took a step back. He laughed nervously with a wave. “Oh h-hey there. Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Blitzo and Fizzarolli began to walk away, but the avid fan rushed forward to block their path.

“Whoa…oh…okay…” Fizzarolli breathed, hands up.

“After seeing your shows, I wanted to get into clown performing, too!” Creepzo exclaimed. “I’m really good!”

Fizzarolli chuckled awkwardly and walked toward him. Blitzo glared, arms folded.

“Hey, aren’t you that creep who’s always trying to sniff around our dressing rooms?” Blitzo asked in suspicion.

Creepzo grabbed Fizzarolli’s wrist, hard. “I have the best idea for a duo performance between us, that should spice up your act.” He pulled Fizzarolli to his chest, showing a sharp-toothed yellow grin. “Picture this: we start it like a romantic ballroom dance or a…”

“Dude, weird fuckin’ pitch! Fuck off!” Blitzo yelled.

Creepzo gripped Fizzarolli’s wrist harder. “I was talking to the clown, asshole!” He spun Fizzarolli around in a twisted dance. “I’m sorry Fizzie, I’m not normally so aggressive, I promise. I’ve just waited my whole life for an opportunity like this!” Fizzarolli froze in fear, his face reflected in Creepzo’s glasses. He continued. “With your fame, and my raw undiscovered talent, I know we can…”

“Hey shit-dick, beat it now, or I’ll make ya swallow your fangs!” Blitzo yelled, raising a finger and fist at Creepzo and walking forward.

Creepzo then turned to gaslighting. “Fizz! You don’t want me to leave, right? Tell him you don’t want me to go!”

Fizzarolli’s eyes darted around. “I-um…” Gathering courage, he pulled his wrist from Creepzo’s grip. “We have to go now! Thanks, though!” Blitzo gave Creepzo a shove as he followed Fizzarolli.

Creepzo dramatically crouched under the red streetlight. “Eugh! Fizz! FIZZAROLLI!” He spread out his arms.

Fizzarolli briefly looked back, before walking with Blitzo.

“Fine! Fuck you!” Creepzo spat. “You think you’re better than me, you elitist prick? Your act’s fucking trash anyways!”

“Cheeeese and hot sauce, Fizz,” Blitzo interrupted. “Your fans are something else.”

“What if my acts are trash? What if I’m never good enough?” Tears formed in Fizzarolli’s eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t let one asshole get to you, ‘kay?” Blitzo said. “You’re, you’re plenty good enough.”

“But I have to be perfect,” Fizzarolli said.

Blitzo groaned. “Do you?”

Fizzarolli walked assertively. “I’ll just have to keep practicing, and someday, maybe, I’ll be good enough for Mammon.”

0 0 0

Mammon appeared on a TV commercial, wearing a green jester outfit with dollar sign tinsels on his hat. His eyes glowed yellow and his face appeared in confetti.

“It’s me, Mammon! And I’m here to announce the amazing new brand: Fizzie!”

Under a spotlight, Fizzarolli posed in his colorful jester outfit as confetti and dollar sign confetti sprinkled around him. There was a sound effect of children cheering.

“We got a Fizzie for every occasion!” announced Mammon. “We got fluffy toy Fizzie…”

The ad showed a Fizzarolli toy being stepped on.

“Fireman Fizzie…”

A Fizzarolli robot seductively posed lying down in a fireman suit, holding a hose that sprayed water onto the floor in an arc.

“Therapist Fizzie…”

The next clip showed an incubus in a business outfit sobbing on a green couch chair as a Fizzarolli robot wore glasses and took notes on a clipboard.

“Wait in line for you, Fizzie.”

Another Fizzarolli robot held two big grocery bags in his hands as he stepped in line, wearing heart sunglasses. The grocery bags read “Hellmart” on them with pentagram logos.

“Doctor Fizzie…beeps every time it senses cancer!”

A Fizzarolli robot beeped in a white doctor’s outfit as he scanned a concerned male imp in a hospital gown sitting on a table. The scanner turned red and read “LOL, RIP.”

“Fat Fizzie, skinny Fizzie…”

A Fizzarolli robot blew up like a balloon before going skinny.

“So many Fizzies!”

A pile of Fizzarolli toys grew as Mammon sat on top.

Mammon added. “And if you wanna fuck ‘em, YOU CAN!” “YOU CAN FUCK THEM!” appeared in green letters along with “Dishwasher safe.”

“We got Fizzies for the kids…”

A dog kid and a goat kid were pulling on a Fizzarolli toy’s robotic arms and hat as they fought over it.

“Fizzies for the teens…”

A teenage imp wearing glasses sat at a desk with computers and sat on another Fizzarolli robot. The Fizzarolli robot gave a thumbs up.

“…and Fizzies for you sick fucking degenerate adults!”

A succubus with hearts in her eyes, a fat female imp and a purple male demon wearing glasses kissed and hugged a smiling Fizzarolli robot. The robot made a gesture with its hands of a penis going into a vagina.

“We got ‘em all!” called Mammon as his smiling face appeared again with a purple background. The advertisement description appeared on the screen. “69.99! ORDER NOW!!! NO REFUNDS! IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

“All based on my new face, Fizzieeee!”

He pulled the real Fizzarolli close to him. Sweat appeared on Fizzarolli’s face and he grinned nervously.

“That’s me!” Fizzarolli pointed to himself and laughed uncomfortably.

They posed in front of a large “BUY” word which was green and decorated with yellow round theater lights. Mammon did rocker signs with his four hands as fireworks of pink, teal and purple appeared on the screen. “Buy yours now! Do it!” The ad ended with Mammon disappearing in a cloud of green smoke, confetti, and gold dollar signs.

“Oh fuck, Mammon is gonna notice that!” Fizzarolli cried in fear. He stared at himself in a large mirror and wore a yellow house robe with a pink scarf that had red hearts on it. A white heart inside a pink heart was on his forehead. A lighter-striped jester hat covered his horns. The mirror was decorated with round theater lights and a pink frame with hearts on them. The drawers also had pink heart designs and a large lavender heart was on the back of the long chair. Lipsticks, makeup, foundations, perfumes, and other products filled the desk in front of Fizzarolli. The vanity area also had a fancy heart-themed tent over it.

“Ozzie! Where did my foundation go?!” Fizzarolli panicked as he picked up various bottles. He was in Asmodeus’ palace in one of the elegant spacious rooms.

Asmodeus stared at Fizzarolli from behind, looking concerned. He put his hand on his hip. “This is the tenth year in a row you’ve done this stupid pageant, Froggie. And you win every time!” He folded his arms. “How come you’re always so dead set on this?”

Fizzarolli held his head with clenched hands. “I wanna make Mammon proud, okay? He’s…really passionate about the craft of clown. He expects perfection, so I-I gotta be perfect.”

Asmodeus walked over and chuckled. “Fizz, you ain’t perfect! Nobody is!” He put a hand on Fizzarolli’s shoulder and gave him a playful poke on his face. “How aboooout, you sit this one out and let someone else take the spotlight?” He spread out his arms. “You deserve a break. Or a vacation where you don’t have to…fend off creeps the entire time.”

Fizzarolli scoffed. “I had to fend off creeps before the robots. I just have thirstier ones, now. Besides, I…just have to do this!”

“Lemme rephrase,” said Asmodeus, annoyed. “I don’t like how many creeps you have now, thanks to Mammon. And I don’t like designing sex toys with your likeness for him! Pretty sure you feel the same.”

Fizzarolli did secretly feel that way. His eyes glanced around. At the same time, he didn’t want to drag Asmodeus into his problems.

He looked back at Asmodeus. “I just don’t think about it, a toy is a toy!”

He looked away. “Look, Ozz, I’m fine.” He looked back. “Working for Mammon is a big deal to me. He’s been my idol since I was five, I can’t just…not compete! I’d be letting him down! Th-the fans down!”

Asmodeus leaned forward, jabbing a finger. “Mammon can eat my ass! In a bad way. Fizz, I’ve known that guy since the start of Hell and He. Fucking. Sucks! Always has! He doesn’t even do clown shit anymore.”

Fizzarolli glanced downward. Could Asmodeus be right?

Asmodeus looked at Fizzarolli and sighed…some teal-blue flames came out of his mouth and vanished. He held a purple striped foundation bottle for Fizzarolli. “I just don’t want you doing all this for someone’s approval.” Asmodeus looked at his partner sadly and added, “Sometimes heroes let you down.”

Fizzarolli grinned and took the bottle. He opened it and puffed foundation onto his head, getting rid of a dark spot.

“I know, Ozz, but this i-is for me,” he stuttered. “I don’t wanna lose.”

Knowing that he wasn’t going to convince Fizzarolli to change his mind, Asmodeus gave him a last sad look. He put a finger to his chin and departed to another room…he suddenly had an idea.

Meanwhile, back at his apartment, Blitzo sat on his worn striped couch, eating cereal with a spoon from a bowl. A bag of chips – “plain ass flavor,” was on the floor, next to two bowls and more chips. Another red bag of chips read “spicy” on it, and a plate of Swiss cheese was on one of the couch arms. Blitzo chewed furiously as his cellphone rang. His cellphone cover read “Ride me” on it as he picked it up. “Yello?” he asked, mouth full.

Asmodeus peered at Fizzarolli from behind the curtains. “Is this…Fizz’s former bestie, then lifelong enemy, then recent hero, now newly rekindled sort of friend, Blitz?”

“Ehh, that is a weird way to put it, but eeyup that’s me.”

“This is Asmodeus.”

Blitzo’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, the big Ozz himself! Heh, is there a reason you’re calling me on the weekend your sin-sinness? Sinfulness? Sin…royal big man?”

“You’ve lived rent free in Fizz’s head for years, so I can’t help but feel he values your take on things.”

Blitzo watched two cartoon ponies fall in love and kiss on TV. He was like a kid enjoying a Saturday morning cartoon. “Yeah, I was the one who usually had the stronger opinions. Yeah like, like one time, he tried convincing me that juggling was cool, but it’s only a little cool at best.”

Asmodeus continued, walking down the hall near blue walls with gear designs. “Look, he’s dead set on re-entering Greed’s yearly clown pageant.”

“Wow, big fucking surprise there,” Blitzo said sarcastically.

“I was hoping to have some…backup in convincing him that this thing is a waste of time.”

Blitzo happily ate his Swiss cheese after pouring hot sauce on it. He swallowed it whole, then asked. “What? Why? Doesn’t he always win?”

Asmodeus growled. “’Cause Mammon is a selfish, manipulative piece of shit! And Fizz…doesn’t listen to me when I try to tell him that.”

“Well, my special skills are killing things without giving fucks, and pointing out people’s flaaaws…” He beamed. “Alright, count me in!” Asmodeus smiled.

0 0 0

A huge crowd gathered near Mammon’s stadium, excited to see the stars of the show. The show was taking place in the same spot that Mammon’s concert had been held: around the parts of an old ship. Two large circus tents had black and red stripes and glowing yellow spider-web designs on them. The flags on top were part orang and part green. There were smaller tents nearby that sold popcorn, drinks, and other concessions. The main tent was decorated with strings of light, orange, and blue flags. It displayed a glowing sign that read “Mammon Theatre” in green letters, the gold border designed like Mammon’s jester logo with purple eyes. Mammon’s large green sigil glowed on the ground underneath the tent. A long red carpet led to the tent entrance.

Cameras flashed as a black limo decorated with blue flame designs on the side rolled up.

“Hup-hup-hey!” Fizzarolli did a roll out of the limo and posed with his arms in the air. Confetti rained down on the jester as Asmodeus appeared next to Fizzarolli from a teal ball of fire. Asmodeus waved, dressed in a purple suit with vertical red stripes. Fizzarolli wore his usual jester outfit, with a puffy white collar and a striped jester hat with red on one side and light blue on the other. The front was red and dress-shaped, decorated with yellow hearts on the bottom. Three black tassels hung from his neck with yellow bells on the ends. Large bells hung from the end of his hat. The heart on his forehead was teal, black, and red.

“Fuck!” Blitzo fell flat on his face on the carpet. Yet again, he was playing the role of a bodyguard in Hell.

“We love you, Fizz!” yelled the crowd. “Yeah, baby, yeah!” Fizzarolli smiled and waved as he made his way down.

Blitzo stood up and brushed himself off, wearing a tattered black suit and dark sunglasses. He ran to catch up. “Wow, I have not been to a crowd event in years.” He held out his pistol with teeth as part of the design.

Fizzarolli glared at him. “Can you remind me why you’re here, again?”

“I…uhh…invited him,” Asmodeus mentioned, as Blitzo pointed his gun and ran off. He leaned down and whispered, “To help you, with extra security. You know your fans. Since I can’t be with you, I felt he’d be the next best thing.”

“He’d be the next best thing?” Fizzarolli flinched in disgust.

“Well, he kept you safe when I wasn’t able to, so I trust that.”

An angry Blitzo pressed his double-barrel weapon near the cheek of an imp boy fan who were cheering “Yes!” He and a girl imp were wearing green. Asmodeus laughed nervously.

Fizzarolli grumbled in suspicion, assuming Asmodeus’ and Blitzo’s behaviors were quite odd. “Mmm-hmm. L’il sus, babe.”

Asmodeus frowned before he and Blitzo accidentally bumped into each other. They briefly nodded before Asmodeus flew away to the sky in a teal comet of flames.

“You’re doing an awesome job, Fizzarolli!” cheered the crowd heartedly. Fizzarolli forced a wide grin as he waved. Blitzo appeared by his side.

“Come on, it’s just like old times,” Blitzo mentioned. “I’ll make sure no one gives you shit, today.”

“You mean besides you?” Fizzarolli retorted.

Before Blitzo could respond, the ground shook and the ruler of Greed himself appeared in a blast of green smoke. He was dressed in a large green jester outfit, with a jester hat with gold dollar signs dangling down. The outfit was black and green, with diamonds on it with gold trim. The black part on his jester hat looked like a crown. He carried a green and gold cane with a green dollar sign on it. He put two fingers on his cheeks and grinned. He also had black pointed boots and striped, green pants.

“Aaay, there he is!”

He gripped Fizzarolli’s chin with a thick white hand. “Now how’s my bright, shiny, brand baby doing?” He squeezed Fizzarolli’s cheeks and shook him hard. “Ready to reclaim your win another year? Yeah?” He towered over Fizzarolli, eyes glowing green.

Fizzarolli answered, his voice muffled, “You know it, Mammon, sir.”

“Goood, cause, you know…” he bent down to look at Fizzarolli’s face. “I saw your competition, and it’s pretty stiff, right? You are gonna have to try extra-hard like-fixin’ that posture. Not gonna lie, you’re looking a bit chungo, yeah?” He waved his arm near Fizzarolli’s belly. “Maybe lose a few so we don’t gotta make any more adjustments to the Fizzies. People like ‘em skinny as FUCK.”

Blitzo hid his weapon away, took off his sunglasses and seethed at Mammon talking down to his friend.

“Oh, right, sir. Of course! I’ll work on that,” Fizzarolli stuttered.

“What?!” Blitzo spat.

“Oh. And who’s this dumpster-diver ya got here with ya?” Mammon asked, glaring at Blitzo.

Blitzo stormed over to Mammon. “Hi, yes, nice to meet you, I’m the one who saw through your fake-ass bullshit from the day I had to spend all my savings on the shit covered dick show you called a performance. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Fizzarolli laughed nervously. “Haha-ha-ignore him, sir. He’s uh-he’s like this all the time. He thinks he’s funny.”

“Offended,” Blitzo glowered.

“Riight, yeah. You can shut you (HONK) ass mouth, boy,” Mammon shot at Blitzo. He turned to Fizzarolli and spread his arms. “I’ll see you on stage! And don’t forget to fucking smile, Fizzarolli.” He shook him hard, gripping his arms as Fizzarolli did a nervous salute.

“The smile is the face people like to seeeee from you!” He grinned and Fizzarolli forced a grin of his own. Mammon vanished in a cloud of green smoke and gold dollar signs.

“Wow, that guy sucks so hard,” Blitzo glared.

“Look, Blitz,” Fizzarolli barked. “I don’t know why Ozz brought you here, but can you at least not talk back to my boss?! I need this gig!”

“Why?” Blitzo asked. “Don’t you have the world’s best sugar daddy?”

Fizzarolli was incredibly lucky to have a partner like Asmodeus in his life. But now that he was back in Greed with the spotlight on him again, he could think of nothing else but winning the contest and pleasing Mammon…if only to avoid failure and abuse…

“I just need it, okay?!” Fizzarolli yelled, then sighed and turned away. He put his hand to his forehead then stood and took a deep breath. “Smile inside and out,” he told himself. He knew deep down that Blitzo had been right about his obsessive, damaging need to be perfect, but that didn’t matter now.

Fizzarolli waved and walked down the carpet as the crowd cheered, “We love you, Fizz!”

“Ready for another win, Fizz?” asked the crowd.

“Oh, pfft, well,” Fizzarolli began. “I don’t wanna assume, but as always, I have an act that’s without a doubt gonna…”

“Fucking lose!” called two female voices.

A tall slender lionfish-like woman walked over and flipped back her long black and green hair, her skin a tanish-green. She had long black leggings with green diamonds on one side and a green stripe on the other side. She had a neon green short skirt with jester tassels on her waist. Her gloves were neon green, and her black sleeves had green dots on one side. Her dark green crop top with an upside-down heart at the top, revealed her belly. Her hair was black with green spiky highlights on the top and green diamonds on the outside. Thin tan horns with black tips jutted straight up from her head. Around her glowing grey/blue eyes were black eyelashes decorated like the jester tassels and bells on her skirt.

The other twin woman posed beside the first, wearing matching black leggings with green diamonds and a green stripe. She wore a short dress, light green on the top with a dark green pointed design on the bottom. Her crop top and long sleeves were black and on the top was a small green puff ball. She had fingerless gloves on and a black collar around her neck. Her long hair in a ponytail was light green on the outside with a black stripe and black dots and dark green on the inside with spiky bangs. The light green hair at the top of her head resembled lionfish scales, as did her eyelashes of neon green fins with black trim around her glowing grey-blue eyes. Black crosses went through her eyes as part of the design.

The first twin was Glam and the second was Glitz, the two fish twin performers from the Envy Ring. They posed and with a gasp, the crowd cheered.

“Oooh, fun,” Fizzarolli began, unsure. “You gals gonna be competing as well? That’s really nice.”

“You can shut up now, you fugly imp,” mocked Glitz with a sharp-toothed grin.

“Yeah, see we didn’t come to chat, we came to win,” Glam added. They circled each other and posed again.

“Wow what attractive attitudes you got,” Fizzarolli sarcastically remarked, hands on his hips.

“Like we care what your opinion is Fizza…ah…” Glitz began, trying to come up with an insult.

“…rotty!” Glam laughed.

Glitz stomped her foot at her sister. “Shut up, I was thinking of one!”

“Should’ve been faster,” Glam remarked as the two twins stood back-to-back, arms folded.

“Whore!” Glitz spat.

“Slow-ass bitch!” Glam fired back.

“You know it’s pretty telling that you snatches can’t even keep your stupid mirror schtick together,” Blitzo deadpanned, standing by Fizzarolli. He put out his fingers in an “L” loser gesture. “It ain’t cute.” The twins sort of reminded Blitzo of the snotty suburban lady from Envy he had met in the Sloth Ring hospital.

“We don’t need to,” replied Glitz as the two women both turned to their sides and put out their hands at the same time.

“We put our energy towards our performance,” added Glam. They swirled around each other in seductive sways.

“And winning Mammon’s favor,” bragged Glitz.

Fizzarolli did a strained grin. “Oh well. I look forward to seeing what you do, and may the best clown w…”

“We plan to!” interrupted the twins who laughed maliciously. Glam flipped them the bird as Glitz laughed maliciously. The sisters strutted away between the imps.

“…win,” Fizzarolli somberly finished.

Blitzo growled, folding his arms with his sunglasses back on. “Aw man, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about this competition, but Christ on a stick, Fizz, pile drive those sluts!”

Fizzarolli grew more pressured and nervous as the circus music began. It was showtime!

0 0 0

Part Two: The Contest

The stage was located inside an old ship…the opening looked like a giant mouth with sharp teeth. Strings of lights and orange and blue flags were hung all around for decoration. A glowing green spider web held it all together.

“We’ve certainly got some quality up here tonight, folks,” called the announcer. Seven spotlights shone on Fizzarolli, the Glam Sisters, a succubus with a green clown wig and green overalls, a fat clown imp in white, a thin green clown with a white face, and a fat clown with orange hair.

The announcer called, “Will Mr. Ten Years Running come out on top? Or is it time for fresh meat?”

Like a giant spider eager to catch prey, Mammon lounged on his green glowing spider web, flanked by two female jester robots with glowing teal eyes. Their jester caps and outfits were black, green, and yellow, also decorated with dollar signs. One was fanning Mammon while the other held a bowl of chicken legs. Mammon ripped into a chicken leg in his hands and chewed with excitement. A green lollipop with horns, a hamburger, blue cotton candy, a cupcake, and a spilled bag of popcorn were stuck on his spider web.

A song described the exciting contest.

“Juggling, it’s objectively cool.

Our returning champ is nobody’s fool!”

Fizzarolli smiled as he rode a unicycle with a pink pentagram design on the wheel. He rapidly juggled five balls under the spotlight and the balls then bounced off his head. Mammon’s sigil cast a neon green light in the background.

“But what’s this?

The twins bring it up to the wire!

Also, they’re on fire!

Points for style!

(Points for style)”

Balancing on a high wire, Glitz and Glam posed on their own pentagram unicycle. Glam rode the unicycle and held up Glitz who posed upside down on her sister’s hands, while juggling balls with her feet. Glitz lowered the balls for Glam to balance on her knee. They both glowed with white-teal flames, a dazzling pyrotechnic effect. Glitz spread out her legs and then bent down to grin with Glam as they got points.

“The crowd goes wild!

(Crowd goes wild)”

The scoreboard showed Glitz and Glam at 123 points, Fizzarolli at 115 points, Kevin at 13 points and Frank at 3 points.

“It’s the pie gag and the twins want a taste.

But what’s this?

It’s Fizz in the face!”

The twins were about to throw white pies with cherries on top into their faces. They swayed their hips and grinned, holding hands. They wore identical dark green suits, Glitz with a right-side up heart and Glam with an upside-down heart on her suit. They wore bunny ears over their horns, Glitz’s were dark green with a little light green and Glam’s were light green with a little dark green. Fizzarolli grinned as he stepped between them, both pies comically hitting his face. The sisters fumed as Fizzarolli headed over to a purple chair with a rainbow heart on it.

“He takes the cake, and he eats it, too!

He’s hungry to win and he’s covered in goo!”

Fizzarolli wore a yellow top with two black hearts over the nipples, a small red heart, and an orange bowtie. More cream pies were thrown at Fizzarolli, covering him in cream from head to toe. Fizzarolli grinned and seductively posed as he kicked his leg in the air, cream pie hitting the sisters on their heads.

“That’s points for cream!

The crowd screams!”

The scores were now 375 for Fizzarolli, 327 for Glitz and Glam, 13 for Kevin and behind Kevin was Frank. Kevin had 101, Frank had 103 and Pierrot had 3.

Then started the third act.

“Ba-ba-ballons, he’s pumping them out.

From where I’m sittin’, you can hear the crowd.

(Ah-ah-ah-ah)”

Fizzarolli grinned as he held eight balloons in his hands. He made a giant balloon face reminiscent of Mammon. The white face had sharp teeth, red eyes, and a green flower-like mane. More balloons floated.

“Not give a shit, ‘cuz the twins are here!

They’re full of sin and they’re here to win!”

The twins made a large, two-layer crown made of gold-colored balloons. They both lifted it up and it landed on the Mammon balloon head. An ecstatic greedy Mammon laughed and pointed in approval.

Glitz and Glam and Fizzarolli were now tied at a demonic 666 points! Kevin had 404, Frank at 103 and Pierrot at 3.

“Holy moly!

Things are not looking good for Fizzarolli!”

The twins leered at Fizzarolli, who grit his teeth nervously. Sweat fell down his face.

Four green spotlights and two blue spotlights revealed Mammon who appeared from the air in green smoke, rainbow confetti, and yellow dollar bill signs made of electricity.

“And now you (HONK) we are down to our clownly finalists!” he yelled as he grabbed the microphone. He lifted the microphone stand in the air with a pose as green firework sparks ejected from the stage. “GRAND FINALE” glowed in bold yellow letters on an overhead screen. A nude pink succubus was sitting on the head of an imp, squeezing his face. Her breasts were painted with green dollar signs. She wore green striped clown caps over her horns with dollar sign bells on the ends. She held a sign that read “CHARGE ME, MAMMON! 6669-966966 – 69996.” Her eyes caught on green fire as she stared into the light and fell off the imp.

Mammon continued. “My very own pride and joy, the marketable son I never had, Fizzarolli!”

He lifted up Fizzarolli from his neck with his arm, patting his face with a hand. Fizzarolli forced a big grin and a small wave from up on the screen.

“And the surprisingly funny women act that made me reflect on my earlier statements…”

Fizzarolli rubbed his behind as Mammon rushed over to the sisters.

“…the Glam Sisters!” The two sisters posed, fingers pointing out in gun-like gestures and revealed evil grins toward Fizzarolli. Mammon roughly pulled Fizzarolli to the front of the stage by his arm. The twins held hands.

“Now we’re gonna have a quick meet and greet with our finalists!” Mammon announced before vanishing in smoke and dollar bill signs again.

0 0 0

Mammon made a “gimmie’ gesture with his black hand. “…so fork it over, kitties! You know it’s worth it!”

He laughed manically as he tossed bags of money into a bin with his logo on it. He kicked a bunch of fans into the room. There were glowing green spider webs in the corner and the ceiling had a design of glowing magenta diamond spider webs. Round strings of lights and flags decorated the room from above. Fans lined up to hand Mammon their bags of money to see the stars of the show. Mammon danced on his leg as he took two bags of money with two of his hands and tossed them in his bin. A white and gold treasure chest was also in the bin. An imp dressed as a clown bowed to Mammon and handed him a pile of dollar bills. He kicked the fans some more before glancing at his hand. He looked in disgust at a pile of dust, a paperclip, a coin, and a stick of gum. He glared at a small imp boy with one of his horns broken and wearing worn brown clothes and a worn magenta hat. He smiled with wide admiring eyes. Mammon snapped his fingers and a paper bag labeled “Poor sap” was placed on the boy’s head as he was taken away by a muscular hellhound with clown makeup on his face.

A brown dog demon wearing round glasses handed Mammon some money and walked inside.

The twins posed for the cameras, Glam lifting up Glitz. Glitz posed on her side on her sister’s hand, making a peace sign. They basked in the attention and spotlight.

Meanwhile, Fizzarolli was nervously sneaking around behind a cardboard sign of him. Cardboard Fizzarolli posed with a wink, holding a red duster with a seductive caption: “I clean EVERY nook and cranny!” Nearby were crates of Fizzarolli themed merchandise: a body pillow, “soop/soup” cans, an alarm clock, Industrial Grade, a baseball cap with horns, a Fizzaropoly Monopoly board game, a jack-in the box, soda, Piss in a Jar, Fizzarolli Funko-Pops and action figures, chips, Fizzi-O’s cereal, magazines, and hot-sauce.

Mammon tossed in a purple goat demon with bat wings and a candle on their head. He roughly pulled in a pink succubus with a black skirt, a yellow shirt, and a pink tail with a heart on the end.

Fizzarolli wandered over to his boss and peered from behind the cardboard cutout.

“Hey Mammon, uh, I may not be, uh…i-in the right headspace to interact with the fans right now.” Fizzarolli stuttered. “Is it okay if I maybe skip the whole thing?”

“Psh, of course not,” Mammon turned around. He tossed four bags of money into his bin.

“I just don’t think that I’m really…”

Mammon shoved Fizzarolli off to the side, putting a hand over the imp’s mouth.

“Aaaw, come on Fizzie, my boy.” He patted Fizzarolli’s head with two hands. He then lifted him up and gripped his arm, hard. “Don’t you wanna do this for your fans?” He shook Fizzarolli and turned him around.

“Listen to them! They’re dying to meet you!”

Hordes of imps, succubi, and demons raced toward the gate, wearing green Mammon shirts. A giant dog demon with hearts over its breasts roared in excitement behind the cheering eager fans.

Mammon lowered Fizzarolli. “Dying to see your little Fizzie face!” He jabbed him in the chest and pulled him close. “You gotta make a good impression, mate. The better the impression, the more they’ll want a piece of you they can take home and fuck!” He gripped Fizzarolli’s head, leaning in uncomfortably close. “Don’t you want that, Fizzie? To be fucked?!”

Fizzarolli stammered. “Uh, I mean…no, not really, actually.”

Mammon posed with his head up and did a dramatic frown. “Fizzie, I-I’m not gonna lie…”

He then gripped Fizzarolli’s face, sharp yellow teeth bared, “I want that! So come on, just do this one thing for me.”

“Okay, sir,” came Fizzarolli’s muffled voice after Mammon squeezed his face against his own.

Mammon let go and did rocker signs with his hands. “Aw, you’re a bloody legend, Fizzie!” He pulled hard on Fizzarolli’s arms and swung him around. “They’re gonna wanna fuck you, like you’re fucking my heart with joooy right now!” Fizzarolli could barely breathe, he was being crushed by Mammon’s chest and arms. Mammon turned Fizzarolli’s face again and stretched his lips. “Now get out there and make me proud, you stupid little (HONK).”

Mammon vanished in green smoke, causing Fizzarolli to cough.

“Wow, Fizz, you let him talk to you like that?”

A stunned Fizzarolli turned around to see Blitzo behind him. Blitzo was upside down attached to a wire, wearing sunglasses, and holding a rifle. “You got some secret kink I should know about of something?” He spun around in a slow circle with a tattered red cape.

Fizzarolli folded his arms and looked away. “It’s just how he is.”

“I mean shit, if he talked to me that way,” Blitzo began.

“Ugh, it’s fine,” Fizzarolli sighed in annoyance and stomped away.

Fizzarolli spread out his arms and smiled nervously at the large fan group.

“Heya folks, where ya from?”

 Fizzarolli flinched as a pink muscular succubus flashed her breasts at him. “Oh, Lust, love it there, obviously.”  An orange goat demon with bat wings and an orange candle on his head, smiled at Fizzarolli. Fizzarolli signed a card from a dark orange goat. “Wet-Dreamsville! Hah! Best pharmacies in Hell!” Fizzarolli signed a toy Fizzarolli from a brown dog boy with black and white striped floppy ears and red and white eyes.

A tan muscular dragon-demon wearing a yellow and black jester cap, grinned as Fizzarolli signed his chest.  “Ragesburg, Wrath, well.”

Fizzarolli went up to a fat, white-bearded cowboy imp. He spoke in a Southern accent, briefly putting a piece of straw in his mouth. “Nice to meet cha, partner.” The cowboy spit. Fizzarolli said, “Ha, ha, I don’t do accents! Fun!” He nervously ran off. More fans lined up, a gray goat with a candle on his head, a succubus with a purple bra, and a tan goat wearing a Mammon hoodie. He hugged the goat and the succubus. “Ah, nice to meet you, too!”

Fizzarolli went up to the front and spread out his arms with a bow. “Thank you so much for coming to the show!” Mammon’s green sigil glowed behind him.

“Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! Fizz!” chanted the crowd. “We love you, Fizz!”

Fizzarolli then gasped softly as he spotted a cute little imp boy in line. He had white hair, a pointed tail and wore a green Mammon shirt. He carried a pen and paper with him. His horns were broken, reminding Fizzarolli of his own broken horns and limbs. The boy did a small wave, then spoke with his hands in sign language.

“FIZZAROLLI! I’M A BIG FAN!”

No longer nervous and stressed, Fizzarolli felt his heart warm up.

“COME ON OVER HERE,” he replied in sign.

The boy smiled with excitement and raced over to Fizzarolli. With the pen, Fizzarolli signed the boy’s paper and handed it to him.

“I WANT TO BE A CLOWN JUST LIKE YOU,” signed the boy.

“YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO,” Fizzarolli smiled and signed back.He tenderly placed a hand on the boy’s back and called to the crowd, “I hope you’re excited for the biiiig finale!” The crowd applauded in response.

“Boo! Boo! Sellout piece of shit!” yelled a voice.

Fizzarolli glanced around nervously, before gently sending the boy on his way.

“Uh, wh-c-come again?” he stuttered in confusion.

“Ugh, your act is such fucking trash, always has been!”

To Fizzarolli’s horror, the narcissistic Creepzo was crawling up to seethe at Fizzarolli from the back of the crowd. He had his square glasses and wore a stained green shirt and black pants.

“Except now,” he pointed an accusing finger at Fizzarolli, “I have to see your smug face plastered on everything, everywhere! And you can all read all about it on my review blog: “fuck-Fizz-but-not-in-a-sexy-way.complainer.com.org.gov!”

He stumbled and fell forward.

Fizzarolli stepped back and chuckled nervously. “Heh, well anyway folks, heh.”

Creepzo clawed toward Fizzarolli on the ground, bent red fingers like sharp claws. “You’re not even a clown, anymore.” He stood up. “All you do is work at that overpriced, sleaze joint, and then every year, you come back here to put us though the same old tired routine.”

Blitzo seethed as he looked through his gun’s telescope piece…he spotted Fizzarolli fearfully stepping back from Creepzo, who inched toward Fizzarolli, fists clenched. “Is there a single original idea in that head?” Creepzo asked.

Fizzarolli laughed shakily as he backed up against the curtain. “I-uh-uh-uh…” Creepzo’s demonic shadow towered over Fizzarolli, with glowing red eyes. “You fucking suck, and so do your products. Your sex-bots can’t even get me off right, you know…”

Blitzo jumped in between the imps, aiming his rifle at Creepzo’s chin in warning.

“What? Still think you’re too good to even talk to me?” Creepzo spat. “Still gotta get this chump to stand in for you? You’re fucking pathetic.”

“To think what we could’ve been together if you hadn’t been too up your own ass to listen! Ugh!”

In Creepzo’s imagination, he and Fizzarolli jumped for joy on a grassy hill with purple flowers. The clouds were shaped like purple hearts. They held hands and gazed at each other romantically. In another fantasy, Fizzarolli was dressed in a dark purple slave suit, wearing a dog collar connected to a chain leash attached to Creepzo’s waists. He smiled with his tongue out and held a golden trophy with #1 on it to Creepzo, who was dressed like a king.

Blitzo aimed the barrel in Creepzo’s mouth. “Yeah, one more word out of you, twat stan, imma blow your head clean open in front of all these fucking kids.”

Fizzarolli hyperventilated, clearly sacred of Creepzo and his insults. He gripped the curtain and his fluffy white clown collar.

Creepzo laughed evilly in response to Fizzarolli’s fear. Blitzo jabbed his face with his rifle, sending him backwards and stumbling.

“You’re not done with me, Fizzarolli,” swore the envious, vengeful Creepzo, rubbing his swollen cheek and running off.

Fizzarolli collapsed to the side and Blitzo caught him.

“Hey, hey, woah, woah, you good?”

Fizzarolli let out a startled scream as Mammon appeared from smoke again behind them. He swatted Blitzo aside. “Yeah, mate? You alright, Fizz?”

Fizzarolli looked fearfully into Mammon’s glowing eyes. His eyes narrowed and his mouth sneered. As if to say, “You better not mess things up.”

Fizzarolli smiled forcefully. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m-I’m fine, yeah, heh.”

Mammon’s eyes narrowed before he declared, “Tell you what, I’ll let the hotties go on before ya, give ya some time to get your shit together.” In a frightening moment, Mammon gripped Fizzarolli’s face and spoke in a low voice. “Get your shit together, Fizzie. You’re a bloody legend.” He grinned evilly, his sharp teeth giant as six small glowing yellow eyes appeared on his forehead.

He then stood up and spoke in his regular voice. “You’re a bloody legend, ya bitch!” He spun Fizzarolli around and he twirled toward the stage side entrance. Four green round lights decorated the open curtains.

“Oh shit, that guy got to you, didn’t he?” Blitzo asked. “You know you don’t have to…”

Fizzarolli was too stressed and scared to deal with Blitzo’s annoying attempts to stop him.

“I do, Blitz, I do.”

“Fucking, Hell, Fizz, this is stupid. That clown shit is not this important.”

“This job is!” Fizzarolli yelled in his face. “Without it, I’ll lose…”

“Everything!” the twin sisters mocked from atop the stairs. They laughed evilly and backed away toward the stage, glowing eyes flashing before vanishing.

“Seriously, that guy is a fucking dick,” said Blitzo bluntly, as Fizzarolli somberly climbed the stairs. “And he’s using you for everything cause you’re likeable, and he’s a fucking trash fire.”

“No, he’s not!” Fizzarolli yelled, not fully convinced. “He’s just trying to make me good enough.”

“Good enough for what?!” Blitzo deadpanned, holding his rifle, growing more concerned about his friend’s wellbeing.

 0 0 0

The audience waited eagerly for the next performance. A white-faced woman demon with horns and blue hair that looked like octopus tentacles, smiled next to a green and white dragon-like demon wearing a yellow shirt with a bone on it. Two little dog-Hellhound demons ate popcorn together. A blue fish demon male held a camera. A large brown dog wearing a baseball cap held a toy Fizzarolli in his mouth, sitting next to a pink dragon lady wearing a black bra. A smug male imp with a broken horn sat as his imp girlfriend kissed him on the cheek. Another imp held a green sign with a dollar symbol, a large white muscular demon with heart tattoos held a hamburger and a Mammon flag and an imp wearing a tank top sat next to him. A yellow goat demon talked with a pink succubus wearing a green dress with dollar signs on it. Next to an incubus with white braided hair was a gray-skinned demon with thick hair, gold earrings, and an orange bandana. She wore an upside-down cross necklace and was looking at her cell phone with a green seashell on it.

The lights dimmed and the audience grew excited.

Ta, ta-da-da, da, ta-da-da, ta-da. Electronic pop music played as the stage was bathed in teal, blue, and green light. Water fell in a column to the center of the stage were a figure of a woman posed. She swayed her hips in a dance and waved her long hair around. With her hair and her arms, the woman parted the water, making it spill onto the stage floor. Two spotlights shone on Glam. In the lights, her hair glowed black on top, dark blue in the middle and sea green on the end of her ponytail. Her leggings with diamonds on them looked black on one side and dark blue on the other. Her jester skirt was indigo, and her upside-down heart crop top was black. Her gloves appeared indigo, and the top bang of her hair had glowing dots and stripes of black and blue.

She walked through the puddles of water, swaying her hips and swatting back her hair. She sang with the alluring voice of a siren popstar, her eyes glowing.

“Get ready for the new look.

New rhythm and a new hook”

In a puddle reflection, she swayed seductively, moving her butt, and putting a finger to her lip.

“Not here to cuddle.

More like leave you in a puddle.

Little double trouble got ya boy shook.”

Glam splashed the water and moved her arms in sync with Glitz, who revealed herself beside Glam in their synchronized dance. They held hands up in the air and posed together. Glitz also appeared green, blue, indigo, and black in the light, her bangs glowing with black and teal stripes, glowing teal fin eyelashes, glowing dots on her long indigo hair and flowing diamonds on her outfit.

Glitz leaped into the air and called, “Ha ha! Here’s the stitch!”

The lighting changed to a bold orange, purple, magenta and pink as the song shifted to a faster pace. Glitz’s hair and outfit tuned red, pink, orange, and yellow. Lines of light spread out as Glitz grinned, beginning her rap.

“Feed sin with ya taxes

Greedy greed wins where the cash is.”

She made money gestures with her fingers.

“Wanna sell my funny, slutty body to the masses!”

The sisters moved their butts against each other and Glam leaned down in a seductive pose, her long tongue out and finger to her mouth. They swayed around each other in a circle and posed as the crowd cheered. Water ejected out from the stage, shooting toward the sky.

Glitz and Glam then sang together, synchronizing their dances and twirling their hair.

“Feelin’ lonely on a Saturday night

Well money can’t buy happiness

But it can rent you paradise.”

The lighting changed again, this time to a deep purple. Glitz and Glam turned neon teal, deep blue and purple, slowly lifting into the air, trailing water from their feet. They slowly twirled around each other gracefully as they sang.

“Give in to temptation.

Take your time, I’ll be patient.

Be my little piggy let me

Scratch your dirty itch.”

“I’m a klown, bitch!” They both sprouted large succubus-like bat wings that glowed teal and white. They flew over the adoring crowd who were transfixed by their alluring song and beauty.

“Fix up your frown, bitch!” They flew and put their fingers to their mouths, purple spider webs glowing in the background. Glitz and Glam then spun around in circles Yin-Yang style at the center of the purple glowing spider web. “Gimmie the crown, bitch!” They posed with their wings out again as the crowd danced and swayed to the pink moving lights and the gushing water. They sneered at Fizzarolli.

“You hear that sound?

You’re goin’ down!”

Fizzarolli ran away in tears from his mocking competitors, Blitzo glancing back at his friend in concern.

 “Cause I’m a klown, bitch!”

Glam added: “Special occasions, splurge on the urge to go make a mistake.”

Glitz added: “Give you a birthday reward if you can afford all this cake.”

Glam added: “Dollar by dollar you got me romance and lovin’ is fake.”

Glitz added: “Max out your expense account, you’re paying for a…”

They both sang: “…klown, bitch!”

Glitz harmonized (“I’m a klown, bitch, imma klown bitch, yeah!)

“Fix up your frown, bitch!”

Glitz: (“Fix up your frown, bitch! Fix ya frown, bitch!”)

“Gimmie the crown, bitch!”

(“Gimmie the crown, bitch! Gimmie that!”)

“You hear that sound

You’re goin’ down

(Yeah)

‘Cause I’m a klown, bitch!”

Glitz laughed manically. (“Oh”)

“Gimmie the crown, bitch!”

Glitz added an(“Ooh”) and laughed again.

“‘Cause I’m a klown, bitch!”

The sisters sat on each other’s laps as water gushed down on them. They flipped back their wet hair, letting their hair fall naturally in an alluring style. They grinned evilly, their sharp teeth glowing teal in the darkness.

0 0 0

Part Three: The Revolution

Fizzarolli breathed heavily and slammed the door to his darkened dressing room. He leaned back against the door, staring at his frightened face in the mirror. His mirror had the design of Mammon’s giant green jester face with a dozen sharp teeth surrounding the borders. A picture of Mammon’s grinning face with “<3 you cunt!” was taped to the mirror. The lights on the sharp teeth blinked on. On the vanity desk stood bottles and makeup products. A Mammon poster hung on the wall of Mammon posing in the air with his guitar and a microphone. Fizzarolli was holding Mammon’s feet in his hands, blue-teal flames shooting off the stage.

Fizzarolli ran up to the mirror.

“O-kay, Fizz, you can do this.” He placed a hand over his heart. “You can do this. You can do this.”

He wiped his forehead. “It’s okay, it’s fine. You gave a show to do soon, it’s fine.”

Fizzarolli then gasped. “Oh-oh no, oh no, no, no, no.”

He frantically swirled a brush into some cream and dabbed at his face to cover up the dark spots on his forehead. “No, no…” Piles of Fizzarolli merchandise, including a body pillow, the Fizzarolli Monopoly game and hot sauce littered the room. The merchandise covered a small couch and a fun-house mirror stood off to the side. Circus flags and lights decorated the ceiling. There was a fluffy fashion scarf on a stand and a three-headed Venus fly trap plant in the corner. The wallpaper was green with figures of Mammon on it.

His hands shook and he breathed rapidly. He then slowed down a bot as he glanced at a purple and lavender heart in his hands with “OZ” written on it in teal letters. He opened it up, revealing a small heart mirror.

“It’s okay, you’re fine, you need to be fine.”

“Fizz! Are you okay?” called a familiar voice from behind him.

Fizzarolli turned around in shock to see Asmodeus peering inside. Fizzarolli turned around. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” He sat down, dabbing his face. “You shouldn’t be here, Asmodeus! I’m fine, please!”

Asmodeus struggled to fit his large body through the door. Annoyed, he snapped his fingers and teleported behind his lover.

“Froggie,” Asmodeus breathed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Fizzarolli held up his hands and moved out of his grip. “I’m fine! I’m fine! Just needed a minute!”

Asmodeus tried to steady Fizzarolli. “You aren’t okay, you’re shaking.” He pulled down his arm.

“Ozz, I’m about to go on for the finale, I need some time to mentally prepare.” He stood up and walked around his room. A poster on the wall advertised a “never stain Fizzy Scarf, it’s so washable, cum will never stick to it.” Fizzarolli juggled dildos in a “New dildo juggling update” on another poster. Another poster advertised “Fizzarolli clown juice.” A large Fizzarolli doll sat off to the side.

Asmodeus sighed and put a hand to his forehead. “Fizz, come on! I’m trying to talk to you, you can’t force yourself to…”

“Ozz,” Fizzarolli interrupted, “I have to do this. This could be my last chance to prove that I’m still good at this. That it’s not over! That I’m still good enough!”

He stared at the Mammon concert poster. “It’s not just Mammon. I’m fine. I just…need to be better.”

“You think you need to be this perfect, model performer…” Asmodeus began as Fizzarolli stomped to the vanity mirror, “…but that’s because Mammon is always forcing that image onto you!”

Fizzarolli stared at himself sadly. “But everything I have is because of Mammon. I have this life. I have security. I have you.”

Asmodeus looked at Fizzarolli sadly.

Fizzarolli said, “Without Mammon, I wouldn’t be…I wouldn’t have…I just…I have to win this…”

“Fizzie,” said Asmodeus, cupping his chin. He hated to see his cherished partner feel so broken and stressed. He wanted Fizzarolli to know how precious their relationship was, how it went beyond Mammon’s influence. Asmodeus knew that Fizzarolli wouldn’t live forever, nor would he be his last lover. But he knew that in his immortal life, Fizzarolli was one individual who brought such a unique passionate joy to it.

He wasn’t about to let another ruler of Hell take that away from him.

Fizzarolli pulled away.  “I don’t want to lose. Because I feel like if I lose this...” his voice choked. “…I lose you.”

Asmodeus scoffed. “How would you lose me?” He placed two hands on Fizzarolli’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, Froggie.”

Fizzarolli stepped away. “You’re with me because of who I am at my best! I’m barely worthy of working with a King of Sin…”

Fizzarolli cried out as he removed his jester cap… “cause THIS is who I am!” He revealed the broken stubs of what was left of his imp horns. Tears welled in his eyes as he held his cap. “Without all this, I’m just nothing, and Mammon made me this. I owe it all to him.”

“Fizz, Mammon didn’t do shit,” Asmodeus deadpanned. “You already were this.”

Fizzarolli slowly turned to look at his partner.

“You’d be this no matter what! You are the most inspiring demon I have ever known, and meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I adore your inventiveness, your attitude, your resilience.”

“And…” Asmodeus added, “You’re just the cutest little thing alive.” Asmodeus nuzzled Fizzarolli’s face with his furry head and he laughed. They held hands and stared into each other’s eyes.

“Also, you are a waaay better performer than Mammon ever was, and thaaat’s just facts.” Fizzarolli teared up and blushed at Asmodeus’ genuine compliments.

Fizzarolli had almost forgotten how great he was at performing, with his mind locked on pleasing Mammon, who always seemed so perfect and dominant.

Fizzarolli sighed and closed his eyes with a somber expression, more tears falling. “It’s-it’s hard, you know? T-to trust that. I-I just…”

Asmodeus wiped away Fizzarolli’s tear with his finger.

“I love you so much, Ozzie!” He smiled as he embraced Asmodeus in a hug.

“And I love you too, Fizzarolli. And I would whether you win this bullshit or not.”

“Well, I kinda spent my whole warmup having a panic attack, haha.”

Asmodeus smiled down at Fizzarolli and began to sing.

“Crooked horn, crooked grin

You’re a crooked horny, freaky little joker.”

Asmodeus playfully snuck up behind him before Fizzarolli answered in song,

“You’re a deadly Sin.”

He sadly walked away.

Asmodeus continued.

“And I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word about

Win, win, win.”

Fizzarolli put his jester cap back on over his horns as Asmodeus continued, walking toward Fizzarolli.

“Oh, oh, oh, I think you’re messy, but I’m messy, too,” Asmodeus sang as he pulled Fizzarolli into a dance. Sunlight shone on a round pink rug with a yellow heart in the center. The room appeared brighter as Fizzarolli and Asmodeus danced to the music.

“No, no, no, I wouldn’t clean a thing, when I ended up with you” Asmodeus sang as he spun Fizzarolli around. Fizzarolli smiled as he danced and leaned close to Asmodeus’ chest.

“I don’t know, you waste your time on me,” Fizzarolli sang. 

“Baby, all I got is time,” Asmodeus mentioned.

“When there is so much I’ll never be,” Fizzarolli sadly reached up in the air, trying to grasp at his dreams. Asmodeus laughed.

“Holy shit, babe,” Asmodeus sang as he and Fizzarolli held hands, fingers intertwining. “There’s so much you can’t see.”

“What can’t I see?”

They sang together as Asmodeus lifted Fizzarolli into the air.

“Oh, oh!”

“You’re a broken record,” Asmodeus began. Fizzarolli did a cartwheel down to the floor.

“Don’t ever shut your crooked little lips,” sang Asmodeus as he carried Fizzarolli before lowering him almost to the floor. Fizzarolli smirked and said, “What do you want me to do with my lips? Heh-heh.”

 They spun around together and sang some more.

“Oh, oh, oh, you sure are lucky.

You make my crooked heart do

Freaky little flips.”

They touched each other’s faces and leaned close. They stood still, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

“You make my crooked heart do…” Asmodeus sang softly before finishing with “’Froggie’ little flips.” He nuzzled Fizzarolli’s head.

“Ribbit,” Fizzarolli playfully responded. They both laughed and embraced. Fizzarolli was thankful to have Asmodeus support him. Fizzarolli sighed happily, his eyes wide. They did passionate French-kissing…everything was finally perfect.

“You’re gonna listen to me now, BITCH!” roared Creepzo, who burst into the room, waving a dagger, and rushing forward.

BANG!

One shot from a gun and Creepzo’s head exploded off his body in black blood. The mirror cracked in two and a bullet hole was in the wall. A stunned Fizzarolli and Asmodeus turned to look at Blitzo who was standing in the doorway with his sniper rifle.

Blitzo removed his sunglasses. “Oh, so you two are an item? Well congratulations you fucking hypocrites.” He put them on again.

Just then, Fizzarolli suddenly realized how he was going to do his big finale. Being with Asmodeus had given him the courage to finally be himself…fully himself. Racing past his friends, he went behind the curtains and got to work.

0 0 0

Meanwhile outside, the audience was getting impatient, sad, and confused. On imp wearing a green jester cap gasped with his arms out, next to a succubus holding a Fizzarolli action figure. A green demon stood next to her. An imp with clown makeup on her face sadly clenched a clown horn, making it toot.

“Uuh, d-don’t worry, folks,” Mammon announced nervously, peering from behind the curtain. “I-I’m sure Fizzarolli will be out soon with a grand fucking performance.”

Mammon did rocker signs with his four hands before blue smoke emerged from an explosion from behind him. The crowd roared, clapped, and cheered as Fizzarolli’s performance began. A puzzled Mammon soon grinned before teleporting back onto his green glowing spider web between the jester female bots.

On the set was what appeared to be an old dimly lit office, lit only by a round teal light. A figure sat with boots propped up on the desk. The teal glow of a cigarette end lit up…Fizzarolli took a slow drag and smoke floated away. Fizzarolli lounged in an office chair as a ceiling fan slowly spun overhead. A mug and papers were on his desk. Dramatic French-style music started as Fizzarolli somberly sang.

“I have wasted time.

I have seen my use.”

He put out his cigarette on his desk.

“I have packaged and sold every part of me!

Suffered a lifetime of abuse.”

Four pictures showed Fizzarolli’s brutal history with Mammon. The first one showed Fizzarolli riding on a unicycle, smiling nervously, and juggling a torch with green flames, chainsaws, sharp throwing stars and lit bombs. A smiling Mammon was tossing up the dangerous items to Fizzarolli.

The second one showed Fizzarolli tied to a scale with Mammon measuring him. “Heavy!” was typed in red on a screen and a red light glowed on top of the scale. Mammon was scrutinizing his already tiny waist.

The third picture showed A frightened Fizzarolli dancing on stage, holding a cane in his hands. Mammon was yelling into a megaphone with a dollar sign on it and holding a red sign that read in yellow, “DANCE CLOWN BOY!!”

The fourth picture showed a grinning blindfolded Mammon blindly throwing knives at Fizzarolli. He leaned against a spinning wheel frozen in fear as several knives were stuck in the wheel around him.

“I have lost myself.”

Fizzarolli made a show of chugging down a bottle of beer in the dark and emptying it.

“I have worshipped at your feet.”

Fizzarolli prostrated on his knees at the dark figure of Mammon against the glowing green web. He then stood up with a determined look on his face. A teal spotlight shown on Fizzarolli.

“And here I am standing on top of the world

With some bitches to defeat!”

Fizzarolli grinned and looked to the right as a spotlight blinded Glitz and Glam who flinched behind the curtain. The sisters flipped him off before pulling the curtains closed. The office set was wheeled off the stage.

“I’ve played the game, I’ve won it all.

They’ve screamed my name…”

Fizzarolli mentioned to the adoring crowd…an imp with square glasses, an imp couple, a hellhound woman doing rocker signs…

“They bought the doll…”

Fizzarolli flinched as a large grey canine demon pulled a Fizzarolli robot toy down to his crotch.

“I’ve seized the day.

Now I’ve got one thing left to say-ay-ay…”

Fizzarolli grinned and happily tore off his sleeves, revealing both his robotic arms. He no longer hid his so-called disability.

“Fuck you!” Fizzarolli lifted up both middle fingers as fireworks boomed over the stage. In an orange explosion, “FUCK YOU” appeared in white letters. The whole area was now brightened.

“Here’s my two minutes notice, fuck you!”

Fizzarolli rolled, twirled, and spun on a large teal ball with pink hearts on it. He flipped into the air and revealed both middle fingers again as he fell back down. Pink spider webs pulsed behind him.

He gracefully landed back on the ball, doing acrobatic flips, and then balancing himself on a second ball underneath the first, a pink one with teal stars on it.

“Time to quit and smell the roses…”

He conjured a large bouquet of pink roses and flowers in his hand.

“Say goodbye…”

He tossed the giant bouquet into the crowd, several imps screaming and running as it fell on them. He rolled on the balls some more.

“…While I look you in the eye and say ‘fuck you!’”

He leaped off the ball, spreading out his legs in midair before gracefully landing back down. He raised his middle finger again as four jets of green fire ejected from the stage. The crowd was delighted!

“Interesting song,” Mammon muttered.  “I wonder what fuckin’ this is about.”

“Fuckity, fuckity, fuckity you!” Fizzarolli chanted.

Mammon held popcorn in one of his hands. Three pink hearts swirled above his head, creating a flaming portal. Asmodeus poked his head through and smirked at Mammon who was eating, “It’s about you.”

“Wait, what?” Mammon asked with his mouth full as Asmodeus disappeared.

“Fuck you!” Fizzarolli continued.  

“I have taken shit.”

Fizzarolli’s arms were pulled by a glowing pink chain. A pink figure of Mammon yelled at Fizzarolli and pointed off to the left. Pink mammon slapped Fizzarolli hard, and he tumbled to the floor. Four teal horned demons held their heads back in a choir around Fizzarolli.

“Been crushed under your heel…”

A yellow and green Mammon apparition grinned as he stomped on Fizzarolli. The real Mammon spat and laughed out loud, pointing at Fizzarolli.

“I have suffered for profit…”

The four teal demon figures “ooohed” again in song before Fizzarolli’s limbs were tangled in glowing green string like puppet strings. He was twirled around erratically in the air under a yellow spotlight as figures of demons laughed.

“…And suckered for fame…”

“Made a fortune you could steal…”

A Mammon shadow grinned and spiraled to consume a green light.

“I’ve had enough!”

Fizzarolli broke free from the shackles binding his hands and feet. He landed back down on stage. A green spotlight was above Fizzarolli.

“I’ve hit the wall,

I’m tired of taking your calls…”

He pulled out his ringing cellphone with a “Queen Clussy” (clown and pussy) cover on it and a yellow fluffy keychain. The screen read “Incumming call: Master. (A picture of Mammon holding his long striped tongue with two fingers.) Under two upside-down pentagrams it read “PICK UP” and “PICK UP, YA CUNT.”

He tossed the phone aside to the floor.

“It ends today.

Now there’s just one last thing to say-ay-ay…”

Fizzarolli grinned as he lit a match by striking it against his robotic arms.

“Fuck you!”

Fizzarolli drew in the air and posed with outstretched arms as “Fuck You!” appeared in fiery cursive above him.

“I wish I had said it sooner, fuck you!”

Off to the side, Asmodeus breathed teal fire onto a stick and tossed it to Fizzarolli. Fizzarolli grinned as he tossed the baton through the air, both ends on fire. He already felt love and confidence surging through him as Asmodeus’ sigil glowed golden behind him on the curtains. He raised his middle finger again and tossed the baton in the air.

“Cut you off, just like a tumor!”

He spun around and posed on his back; his shirt purposefully ripped. He stroked a finger up his stomach and chest, making a seductive smirk. Asmodeus smiled as Fizzarolli skillfully caught the flaming baton in his mouth.

“Hope you die!”

Fizzarolli made a slicing motion with his finger over his throat, leaning his head back to mimic his head being cut off. He twirled the baton in his other hand.

Then on the screen, he playfully slapped his own ass.

“Kiss my ass goodbye, you cuck, fuck you!”

Fizzarolli blew the teal Lust Ring flames into the crowd. Asmodeus smiled from behind the curtains.

Fizzarolli jumped down into the crowd and began a rap as circus music blared.

“Have you ever felt sick and tired

Of doing the same shit everyday with your anger brewin’

Eatin’ shit for a boss that you’re sick of obeyin’

If you ever felt the same, let me hear ya say it!”

He placed his arms around an imp and a gray demon lady with a sharp tail. He poked a pink demon lady on the nose. He smiled at an imp girl, then leaped over a giant dog. An imp with male horns wearing a black mammon dress grinned at Fizzarolli. Imp kids and teens admired him as he sang. He cupped his hands around a demon with a fishhook in his nose and they smiled. Fizzarolli’s charisma was helping to being demons from many Rings and cultures together. Fizzarolli flipped back onto the stage as an ensemble supported him with the next lyrics.

“Did you really think I was gonna stay?”

Fizzarolli swayed up a flight of green stairs coming from the stage floor.

“Spending my life bent over with your fist in my “a.”

Fizzarolli wiggled his butt out and then raised a fist. The crowd clapped before briefly becoming puzzled/disgusted.

“Slander me, say I’ll never work in this town,” he sang as he raced to the top of the green stairs. Two tall candles with green flames appeared and a purple striped coffin rose from the ground. Green light shone from the coffin as Fizzarolli jumped and posed on top.

“If I stick around, I’ll be six more feet under the ground!”

He made a show of placing his hands over his chest and falling dead into the coffin.

 “FUCK YOU!” the ensemble cried as Fizzarolli leaped out of the coffin and harmonized, “Wo-oh-oh!” He tore off his puffy white collar in midair as green spotlights crisscrossed over Fizzarolli.

(“Here’s my two minutes notice, fuck you!”) The ensemble sang as Fizzarolli swung across the arena on a trapeze bar, finally feeling free. He let go and spun in the air near the glowing green Mammon coin/moon in the sky.

“Suck it, greedy bastard!

You’re a fucking ass clown!”

(Time to quit and smell the roses!)”

An oblivious Mammon happily clapped along with his jester bots.

(“Say goodbye!”) Fizzarolli and the ensemble sang, “too late to apologize!” The crowd cheered as Fizzarolli leaned down his arm to give them high-fives.Fizzarolli gasped as a dog demon happily grabbed onto his legs as he swung. The dog fell off Fizzarolli dead in a gory mess thanks to a blast from Blitzo’s rifle. Smiling, Fizzarolli looked up at Blitzo, who grinned with a thumbs up.

“So this is it…”

Fizzarolli flipped several times in midair and landed on top of the stairs. He knocked down the coffin as the spotlight on him turned pink. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath at his ultimate act of courage. He pointed at Mammon and yelled,

“MAMMON, YOU SAD SACK OF SHIT!”

The crowd stopped clapping and looked up at Mammon with worried looks.

Mammon froze, then growled loudly after realizing that his star performer was now mocking him. Briefly looking around puzzled, he then bared his teeth and yellow electricity sizzled around him.

“FUCK YOOOOOU….” Fizzarolli sang.

The lighting turned a heroic golden and violet as Fizzarolli triumphantly held up his middle finger again. In a dazzling display, blue fireworks boomed out in both directions and green smoke and confetti exploded from nearby cannons. “FUCK YOU” appeared in blue bold letters with gold trim as more sparks sprayed out from the sides of the structure. A pink F and a U appeared over the words and neon green middle fingers lit up and moved. “Fuck you” was also written in teal cursive on a magenta sign with a teal heart on top. To top it off, neon teal lights at the very top showed two hands mimicking a penis going into a vagina.

“…YOU BITCH! YEAH!”

Fizzarolli posed under a teal spotlight and caught the microphone as all the signs lowered into the floor.

Fizzarolli bowed as the crowd stood up and gave him a roaring demonic encore! One of the jester bots clapped and an angry Mammon slapped it off his web. He took a bag of popcorn from the other fanning bot and angrily chewed. Fizzarolli stood up and blushed at Asmodeus, who gave him a thumbs up behind the curtain. Fizzarolli had never felt so jubilant in his life.

“Thank you all so much. You know, it’s always been one of the greatest thrills of my life performing. And I’m so glad to bring you all one, last show.”

Fizzarolli smiled down at the waving imp boy he had met earlier and signed “THANK YOU.” The boy gasped and grinned, amazed to be recognized by his role model.

“Cause now…” Fizzarolli closed his eyes…and then grinned hugely with a shrug, “I quit!” He dropped the microphone and the crowd gasped.

Mammon vomited on the other fanning bot. “WHAT?!” he bellowed in rage.

In a flash, the king of Greed teleported in front of Fizzarolli. Fizzarolli flinched as Mammon pointed his dollar sign staff under his chin.

“QUIT?! You miserable piece of shit! What do you mean quit?!”

Fizzarolli smirked and moved the staff away with a finger. He waved his hand.

 “I meaaaan, I quit. I’m done.” In an Australian accent, he mocked, “G’day, mate!” while flipping him off with two middle fingers.

Mammon’s eye twitched before he seethed, his face darkening. Smoke bellowed from his mouth and six smaller glowing yellow eyes appeared on his forehead. He vanished in smoke and rushed toward the flinching Fizzarolli. With low growls from inside enormous clouds of smoke, Mammon lifted up a giant sharp yellow bug leg that almost stabbed Fizzarolli who backed away. Asmodeus peered from behind the curtain, grabbing it in his fist.

“Oh that motherfucker…”

Mammon pulled back his sharp leg. He wiggled out of a slime-covered larva sack that resembled the design of his jester outfit.

He let out a low demonic growl. “YOU FUCKING UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!”

He rose from his sack, growling until the growls intensified into screams. Mammon was in his true demonic form, slamming down his eight bug legs on the ground. He had the appearance and traits of a spider and a parasite, thinking of nothing but consumption. He even had a striped bee-like bug bottom with stingers and spikes.

“I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!” he screamed at Fizzarolli in a distorted demonic voice. “YOU ARE PRACTICALLY IN MY IMAGE!”

Fizzarolli just crossed his arms and glared unintimidated by his former master. Mammon jabbed a giant finger at him.

“I RAISED YOU LIKE THE SON I DIDN’T WANT!”

Fizzarolli slapped his giant finger away and narrowed his eyes, causing Mammon to narrow his eyes in return.

Asmodeus appeared protectively behind Fizzarolli in a roar of teal and red flames. He towered high and his three heads roared and turned red, speaking in a demonic voice.

“YOU’D BETTER BACK THE FUCK UP, MAM!”

In the stands, Wally Wackford laughed out loud and pointed with his cane. “Holy shit! I say, I say!” He was dressed in a green, black, and gold suit and his green top hat had yellow teeth as the rim. Next to him was a hellhound with a small imp appearing out of a bowl of popcorn.

Mammon chuckled darkly before turning to Asmodeus.

“Look who’s acting like a big fuckin’ hero.” He crawled over to Asmodeus, placing a finger under his chin. “Careful what you say, Ozzie. Wouldn’t want your little secret getting out, would we?” He smirked while pointing down at Fizzarolli.

Asmodeus yelled into his face, flames turning red. “I don’t care anymore!” The two Sins butted heads.

“Ozz?” Fizzarolli asked in concern.

Mammon smirked and backed up. “Because if you let him quit, I could tell everyone hereee that you…”

“What?” asked Asmodeus. “That I love him? Well I do!”

To Mammon’s surprise, the crowd erupted into fangirl screams and yelled “I knew it, I knew it!” They all excitedly typed on their cell phones. One male imp wearing a green striped jester hat and a white goatee had three cell phones attached to his arm.

 The first phone was “Louie” texting a partner who soon broke up with him.

“Babe I can change. PLEASE!”

“You don’t get it. Don’t talk to me, don’t message me, don’t call me ever again. We’re done, asshole. Have a shitty day.”

“I AM THE ONE TRUE SHIPPER AND I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!”

“YOU CALLED ME A FOOL? WELL LOOK WHO’S LAUGHING NOW! EXPECT FAN ART SOON!”

The second cellphone showed Twitter texts.

“Clarisse @ simparolli: Ozzarolli confirmed guys! It’s fucking REAL! #ozzarolli #fizzaozzie”

“Yannah @mamdonaldsaddict: OZZIE FUX FIZZ? LOVINGLY???”

“LooLooBro @looloolooland: I CALLED IT! I TOLD YOU ALL! (Gif of Fizzarolli yelling and saying “YEEESS!”

“Minnie @downiecookie: I honk but no one listens. (Clown emojis).”

The third cellphone showed profiles on a “ClownEmporium” website, “Greed’s #1 forum for clowns and clown adjacent Hellborns!”

“HAWT NEWS!! OZZIE AND FIZZIE IN LOVE? EW!”

xxHonkiexx: “I am pleased to announce that my collection of multicolored combs continues to grow! I am forever grateful to all my followers who helps me make this possible. And to the haters who like to shit on my collection, you’re just ugly and jealous, touch some grass.”

Doug…Dugs: “Anyone have a good website where one could find quality high res vids of clown feet for research purposes? The only ones I can find are in 480p, I can’t even see the wrinkles. 4k or higher, otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

Mammon looked stunned and scratched his head. “Oh-uh. Shit.” Then he put his hands on his hips, coming up with an insult. “Ah-you dirty bitch!”

He crawled on all his legs and smirked near Asmodeus’ face. He spoke in a demonic voice, whispering ominously into Asmodeus’ ears.

“You are gonna regret revealing that, Ozz!” He chuckled darkly and snorted green smoke into Fizzarolli’s face. He then broke out into loud sinister laughter, revenge brewing in his eyes. He disappeared in smoke and dollar bill signs one last time. The crowd screamed and flinched as the arena, stage, and circus tents came crashing down in explosions.

Asmodeus held Fizzarolli protectively in his flaming teal hands, sitting up after the explosions were over. Fizzarolli stood up and coughed in Asmodeus’ flaming hands. Relieved to see Fizzarolli unharmed, he brought him close to his face, the lovers nuzzling and sighing happily.

Glitz lay on top of her sister and lifted up her head.

“So does that mean we win?”

Glam also lifted up her head. Both sisters smirked at each other before a slab of rock fell on them. “ACK!” they yelled from underneath the rubble.

A poster showing dancing on a ball and Mammon grinning in green light was run over by the wheels of the limo. Mammon dollar bills lay in the street. Meanwhile inside the limo, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus were nuzzling and making lovey-dovey giggling noises, Fizzarolli cradled in his partner’s arms. Blitzo smirked next to them and asked, “So, um, who tops?”

Fizzarolli groaned and Asmodeus blushed. They both looked at each other, implying that they each took turns being dominant in bed.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Clarity 9

Obito took a moment to wonder at how the hell Bakashi, the Kyuubi container, and his youngest living relative had managed to end up in that dreadful Fuin woman's film.

'I don't care,' he decided viciously, stuffing popcorn in his mouth in lieu of glowering at his companion. 'I absolutely do not care at all that even now, Bakashi is spiting me by contaminating perfectly banal entertainment with his stupid big head. That's fine. I'm above that.'

Hey, there was some small bit of good out of this venture, though. Aiko seemed enthralled and got caught up in the energy of the film (at least, the parts with fighting) but she didn't say, 'oh, that blond boy is probably my brother.'

"What did you think about the fight scenes?" Aiko nudged him playfully, snicking a bit of popcorn out of the nearly empty bag on his lap (which put her hand in places it definitely should not be oh god no). She barely blinked when Obito abruptly shoved the snack over to her, used to sudden movements that made no sense to her.

"What about the fight scenes?" he tried. His honest answer; 'they make me incomprehensibly angry,' would probably just raise more questions for her.

The teenager shrugged, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her as the lights came on and the other movie-goers stood. She was getting plenty of dirty looks for her rudeness in critiquing the film right away, but seemed barely aware. "Well, they were awfully dramatic," Aiko huffed, waving a hand in front of her face. "Wasteful, too. No ninja fights like that, with all the boring 'feelings' talk and pointing and shouting out the names of their techniques. The writing was sort of bad, but at the same time it was fun." She shrugged, making a wavery 'so-so' gesture with her hand.

'No ninja fights like that,' rang in his head mockingly. Obito stifled a Tobi-giggle, swallowing. 'Ha! So there, Bakashi. Apparently, you're not even a ninja'.

That did lift his mood a bit. Aiko had a point, he decided generously.

"If you ever meet a ninja like that," he counseled gravely, "get them while they monologue. Konoha nin do that sometimes."

He actually laughed at the appalled way her jaw dropped.

'I feel better now.'

Still, they were absolutely never going to see one of these grotesquely indulgent Princess Fuin movies again.

"And here I was thinking that we were never going to get along," Aiko chirped without looking up from the blade she was sharpening. "Yet here we are, spending time together socially. Tomorrow, I expect we'll be braiding each other's hair. The day after, we'll get friendship bracelets. I want blue and yellow on mine."

Kakuzu shot her a withering look, but didn't respond. They had been sitting in somewhat pointed silence ever since Obito left on his super-secret-not-telling-Aiko-mission.

'Peachy. Just peachy keen. Getting stuck with this guy is exactly what I wanted.' Resentfully, she scraped her whetstone with just a little more force than was habitual. 'What's Obito's deal lately, anyway? I'd rather work with Zetsu than Kakuzu. He's suddenly acting like Zetsu's going to eat me whole if he leaves us alone for ten minutes.'

Lately, Obito had been just plain fucking weird. He was terribly jumpy.

'And dramatic,' she reminded herself. 'I need to talk to you when I return from this mission,' Aiko mocked internally. 'Why not talk to me now? I don't know what he's so nervous about. Obito's been acting like he's nervous about something.'

Poor love. It'd been three days since his little fit, and he didn't seem much more stable. She didn't really want to leave him alone. He was quite possibly a danger to himself.

But telling him that she was worried about him hadn't stopped him from setting off on whatever job he had in mind. If anything, Obito had just seemed oddly guilty. The next day, Kakuzu had showed up in the safehouse with a disgruntled look, apparently under the impression that he was to babysit her while Obito was gone.

Which was just silly. It was called a 'safe' house for a reason. The only people who even knew where it was were her, Obito, Kakuzu, and Zetsu.

In other words, Obito was being really weird for no apparent reason.

'It probably wouldn't hurt to humor him by keeping Kakuzu around,' she tried to convince herself. It was annoying, sure, but not harmful.

"I need to go into town," Aiko spoke up, narrowing her eyes at her finished product as she held it up to the light. She tilted it slightly, letting reflections flash. "I'd planned on going alone to pick up some product for the next trip, but I suppose I'll have to ask you to come with."

Kakuzu offered an unenthusiastic grunt in response. She didn't mind or press. He eventually spoke up unprompted.

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow," she shared idly. She tested the sharpness of her blade on a fingertip—blood welled up instantly. Aiko made a sound of satisfaction and slipped it away, reaching for another dull kunai.

"Acceptable. Your initiative does you credit," Kakuzu admitted gruffly.

'Is he… being nice to me?'

She stilled, but didn't offer a smile or turn to look at him. Aiko was gathering the impression that Kakuzu didn't like being nice. Or at least, he didn't want to think he was kind. Calling excess attention to his statement would be unnecessarily disruptive.

"Thank you," she said carelessly. "I've been trying. There's not much challenge in the legal operations that Ando-san runs. She hasn't yet summoned up the courage to talk to me about using her organization as a cover for moving narcotics."

Aiko rather doubted that the civilian would mention a damn thing, assuming she knew. Ando-san was so twitchy. And thorough about keeping Aiko away from her son, actually. Hmm. What was that about? Aiko'd never threatened her even a little. That was all Kakuzu and that was like, forever ago. Weeks. Months, actually. Silly Ando-san.

"Narcotics are profitable," Kakuzu said approvingly. "How do you acquire your stock?"

She shrugged distractedly, working on her second blade. "I've made friends with a bartender who has a lot of contacts. We have a nice thing going on where I make troublemakers disappear, and her herbalist friend in Grass hooks me up."

There was a great deal of money to be made moving illegal substances into shinobi nations, which had a lot more restrictions and border surveillance than the other countries. Military states were just so silly about little things like recreational drugs, or medicines that hadn't been made in certified facilities, or odds and ends of counter-culture. They could afford to be selective like that, because the shinobi villages were fucking loaded (and needed to be intellectually controlled in order to maintain the hegemonic status quo). The quality of living and health care for a resident of a ninja village was so far above that of the people in outlying areas that it wasn't even funny.

That meant there were a lot of people desperate to get their hands on contraband for half the price of heavily taxed goods imported from the capitals. And Grass was a rich resource without years of infrastructure that she'd have to muscle aside to make space for herself: it hadn't been that long ago that Grass had been subject to restrictive policies itself. There was a lot of money to be made and only small fry like herself jostling for it.

"How is your accounting?"

She actually paused at that and looked over. "I don't keep hard records," Aiko admitted sheepishly.

Kakuzu looked downright appalled at that. "How do you know how much money you are making? You cannot devise strategies to improve profit and productivity without data."

"I don't really know how to go about compiling that sort of information," she had to confess. If she'd ever learned, it wasn't something that had come back to her yet. She expected it would eventually, though. She was remembering a lot of things.

The man at her side was still. Dangerously still. His voice was gruffer than usual when he managed to unhinge his jaw long enough to order, "Come. I have spare accounting books. You can have a set for two Ryo."

'That is ridiculously expensive. Like, three new outfits expensive. Twenty times what the cost should be, easily.'

Aiko gaped.

"I would suggest that you acquire your own materials upon the next time that you enter a place of business," Kakuzu said archly with an expression that was almost a smile.

"We could bump our trip up to tomorrow," she said a bit weakly.

He shook his head. "No. If I am going to get any information through that skull of yours, I must begin immediately. I have time now." He started off for the house without saying a word. "This project of yours is a superior beginning to anything that the other cretins have endeavored to undertake. Failure to improve upon it through record-keeping would be a pity."

"Oh." Aiko stood and followed, a little perplexed by Kakuzu's sudden interest and helpfulness. "So," she ventured as he extracted two small blue books from a drawer in his room. "Has no one else in Akatsuki ever-"

"Taken it upon themselves to pursue a useful endeavor? No," he said shortly. "Our previous associates were all addled simpletons."

At that point, he began muttering something angry about art and hobbies that she thought it would probably be best to pretend she didn't hear.

"What's your hobby?" she prodded. "I mean, I assume smuggling is a little pedestrian for your tastes."

Kakuzu made a noncommittal sound. "I hunt bountied shinobi. When someone else has gone to the trouble of compiling convenient lists of people whose heads they would pay for, it is a simple matter to memorize their faces and keep an eye out."

Wait. People would pay for-

"That's kinda cool," Aiko noted, morbidly interested. "Do I have a bounty?"

Her companion grunted, extracting a cheap pen and stalking out to the kitchen table. "You should. You had an unofficial one when you were a member of Konoha's military. Put out by Kumo, I believe. Or perhaps Iwa. In any case, now that you've defected, it should be replaced by an official one from your country of home origin."

'I wonder how much Konoha is willing to pay for my head…'

Well. There was a way to check that.

"Those bounties… how do you get a hold of them?"

"Your information broker would probably have a copy," he said shortly. "Now, pay attention."

Talking to Sayu was a mistake. Or at least, adding the new topic was a mistake. An unsettling one that brought up things she'd really rather not consider.

'That doesn't make any sense.'

"That can't be right," Aiko said slowly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

The short woman shrugged. A streak of something suspiciously like mud moved on her cheek when she made a face. "That's what I have, kid. Your bounty hasn't been updated in years. It's still in the sketchy book, too." She waved said volume about pointedly. It was indeed not the official copy that Aiko had spent the last few minutes rifling through unsuccessfully. "It's not a bad number," she admitted grudgingly. A speculative look crossed her face. "Maybe I should turn you in and pay off my debtors, eh princess?"

"Very funny," Aiko grunted. She was too preoccupied to really enjoy banter at the moment, grabbing at Sayu's wrist to hold the book still so she could read it. The information was interesting. Seal master? Since when was she a seal master? And—she already had the chakra chains? That was a laugh. She thought that she would know if she'd activated a bloodline that made her eyes get all weird and purple. Clearly, these books weren't that accurate. And huh. She trained under Hatake Kakashi? That name was awfully familiar.

Maybe he was in the book too.

Sayu pursed her lips and flipped the book around to investigate it. "It's a seriously old picture, too. Look at the geeky smile. What are you, twelve?"

"No," Aiko muttered resentfully. Still, she had to squint at the date on the edition and count under her breath to put it together. "Fourteen? That can't be right. That's not a picture of me at fourteen."

God, she hoped not, at least.

The older woman snorted. "Shouldn't you remember? This looks like an official picture."

She knew perfectly well that grinding her teeth together was a terrible habit. It took conscious effort to unglue her jaw. There was no way she was going to admit that no, she didn't remember the picture, or in fact much of anything.

Who cared? It didn't matter anyway. She knew all she needed to know.

'Yeah, just keep telling yourself that,' Aiko thought bitterly. 'That'll make the weirdness here go away.'

"Thanks." Aiko bent, using her legs to lift the box of goods she'd come to pick up. "I'll see you in a few weeks, hotstuff."

"Am I going to get my book back?" Sayu asked, bemused. "I kind of need that, for that job that I do. You know, people pay me for information and I hook them up, pass over IOU's and verify kills. It's not fancy, but it pays. We can't all be in a super-special club that buys the dango, princess."

Aiko paused for a moment, before realizing that she'd tucked the little hitlist under her belt. "Oh, sorry. Can I-can I pay you for it? I'd like to keep that."

Sayu sighed. "Two ryo," she listed unenthusiastically.

Aiko's eyebrows shot up. "Why don't you just hit me over the head and rifle through my pockets? Jeeze, I thought we were friends."

"We're not that good of friends." The older woman cracked a wry grin, tucking the cash away. "Those are hard to get a hold of, if you're a civilian."

That actually made some sense.

"You took long enough," Kakuzu said gruffly, walking as soon as she exited the dank little building.

"Sorry," she apologized absently. "I got caught u-"

"I don't care," Kakuzu sighed.

Aiko pressed her lips together, trying not to let her eyebrows shoot straight up on her brow. 'At least he can be counted on. He's predictable.'

She'd thought that Obito was predictable too. But this put a wrench in her perception. She wasn't stupid. What he'd told her… well, now it didn't add up.

'If Konoha knew I was a traitor, they would have put out a bounty for me.'

Ergo, Konoha didn't know she was a traitor. Either they were spectacularly ignorant, or they knew something she didn't. That didn't fit with what Obito had said.

Wait. Don't get emotional. Don't be hasty. Think it through. Aiko licked her lips, attempting to consider every angle.

'I don't have all the information,' Aiko knew. 'I can't rule out either extreme: that Obito was telling the complete truth, or that he was completely lying. Not without more information. I can't think of a reason that Konoha wouldn't have put out a bounty on a missing nin, but that doesn't mean there isn't one. I need more data.'

Of course, getting the needed data would be very difficult while she was being watched (and how did it just now seem suspicious that Obito hardly ever left her out of sight, and needed to know where she was, and checked up on her? For all she knew, he or Zetsu kept an eye on her whenever she went off 'alone')

'I'm an idiot. I wouldn't know. They're both much better at hiding than I am at detection, and I haven't even been looking for watchers of their caliber. And now I can't check. If they have been watching me and I just now start looking, they'll want to know what's changed. That'll lead them to Sayu.'

"Hurry up," Kakuzu graveled out. "You're falling behind."

'It'd be a little faster if you helped carry. This is what, thirty pounds? That'd be nothing to a big guy like you,' Aiko thought resentfully, her bad mood spilling over to her current companion.

She didn't bother to apologize, focusing on moving and pushing her pace a little. Her arms were shaking and in outright muscle pain by the time they returned to the safehouse. She really should take the time to catalogue what she'd just brought and store it safely.

Aiko didn't care about that at the moment, so she dropped the box on the kitchen table and went to her room, barely hearing Kakuzu mutter about moody teenagers.

She locked the door and settled on her bed, desperate to put together a picture. All the time that Obito spent training her took a somewhat sinister cast when she wondered if he intended to use her rather than use her skills. Perhaps it was pathetic, but the nuance mattered a lot to her.

Shinobi were tools, in a way, yes. Aiko didn't mind being a valuable resource for reasons other than her intrinsic value as a person. That was different from just her skills being useful.

Then again, if what he was looking for was just a useful tool, it would have been stupid to pick her. There had to be people out there who would require less investment—she'd had to be retrained in her apparent specialties of mid-range weaponry, for kami's sake. No. It wasn't just her skills Obito was interested in. It was her; it had to be her.

'I don't want to believe that Obito lied to me.' Aiko rolled over onto her side and hugged a pillow to her chest. 'Or at least, not about the important stuff. I… I don't think he did. He really does like me. We're friends. He didn't lie about that. I can't totally distrust my own perception. He definitely does enjoy spending time with me, and he wouldn't spend so much time with me if he didn't care. He'd pass me off on someone else.'

So if she kept the assumption that Obito wasn't lying about feeling friendship with her, that left her with two options to extrapolate from. A. He had formed those feelings recently, after she had joined him in recent memory. B. They had been friends before what she remembered.

'Think it through, girl,' Aiko told herself, tugging on a bit of hair. 'Does it matter which of those two things is true? If so, why, and what difference would it make to my prospective course of action.'

Her intellect told her that it mattered. If he had only come to care about her in recent months, then that meant that he hadn't cared about her at the time that she remembered 'meeting' him in the hospital. That meant that whatever he had wanted from her at that time had not been coming from a place of concern for her best interest. If he had just been tricking a sick, confused girl into coming with him, then Aiko should be frightened, or at least interested in what he wanted from her.

Whereas if he had been emotionally attached to her before she remembered meeting him, that possibility seemed much less likely.

'Is friendship the only way to look at it, when the issue is better summed as emotional attachment?' She rolled over onto her back and dug her heels into the bed, pouting unconsciously. 'He would already have been emotionally compromised if he's telling the truth about being my dad's student. That would be much easier to verify than whether or not I really was secretly meeting Obito and narking on Konoha.'

How hard would it be to figure out who Obito's sensei was? He might fork over the information, and she could cross-verify it. Student-teacher relationships were probably well-documented somewhere, and someone somewhere would be willing to accept money for handing over information that seemed innocuous enough.

She felt a little better, having decided what she would accept as evidence that Obito had been emotionally compromised before eight months ago. Assuming that panned out, she could be reasonably certain that he wouldn't hurt her and hadn't planned to.

Of course, Obito could thwart that plan by refusing to tell her about his sensei, but she doubted that. He'd had much looser lips lately, though that might be due to his instability and emotionally compromised state than trust.

Those loose lips presented another plan: he'd let the name of his teammates slip. Assuming 'Kakashi' was still alive: well, that name couldn't be common. She could look up his sensei and teammates and verify Obito's story that way.

Actually… She twisted just enough to tug the book out of her waistband and rolled onto her stomach to flip through it. Obito hadn't said anything to make her think that his old teammate had defected, so he should be in the Konoha section if he was still active. She frowned when she didn't find anything under 'Kakashi', but some bit of stubbornness caused her to keep looking until she ran into 'Sharingan no Kakashi.' She huffed.

'That sounds about right, actually. Lines up with what Obito said and collaborates why Obito isn't with Konoha anymore, in a way. He's gotten famous off of Obito's eye? That's a little depressing.'

Really famous, apparently. He looked like that actor- no, that was backwards. The cute extra in that Princess Fuin movie had definitely been modeled off of him. That kind of resemblance was not an accident.

She shrugged off the tangent about his apparent presence in pop culture for more productive lines of contemplation. There was nothing listed about Sharingan no Kakashi's teammates, but his sensei had been—Namikaze Minato, the fourth Hokage? Aiko let out a low whistle. Nice. That was her dad? Hopefully, she bent the corner and went looking, but of course there wasn't still a page for the Yondaime. He was long dead.

'That's another thing I could check,' she decided. 'If I see a picture of him, I might be able to see any family resemblance. If I look enough like him, then Obito's been telling the truth.' Aiko paused thoughtfully, biting on her lip. 'Well, at least some of it.'

Aiko felt a little better as she calmed and worked through the logic, probably more content than she should feel. She now had an idea of what she wanted to investigate and several plans for how to get that information. Finding out whether or not she'd been lied to for over half a year wouldn't be impossible. She could do it.

But… god forgive her: despite what her brain told her, she had a hard time really believing that it made a difference if Obito had kidnapped and tricked her as opposed to being her friend rescuing her from Konoha's clutches.

It might be different if she had any reason to viscerally feel the betrayal. But she didn't. Aiko remembered bits and pieces from before Obito, but that was it. She didn't feel an emotional connection. So he just seemed more real to her than people she might have known in Konoha. Who cared if there were people out there missing her, if she didn't miss them?

That sounded awful, even in her head. But what would happen if she decided that Obito had kidnapped her and ran to Konoha? Even if she made it—and what were the chances of making that long trip, when she was watched— what would it be like to find herself in a place she didn't really remember, with people who had expectations and fond memories of her? What would they want from her—was she even the same person, in an appreciable sense, and would she measure up to what they wanted? Would they hold any changes against her?

'I'm getting overly defensive about the imagined reactions of people I don't remember.' Aiko huffed a little laugh, bringing the pillow on her chest up to cover her mouth. 'I'm ridiculous. I'm emotionally compromised, aren't I? Still. I feel like my life is here. I have hobbies, I have a friend, I have a job, and I have a- what the hell is Kakuzu, anyway? Is he friend number two?'

He probably wouldn't agree, but she thought that he was. So, yes. Friend number two.

That had a good ring to it. She grinned into her pillow. 'So, that's an emotional reason to stay. This is terrible form to come up with logical reasoning after I'm leaning towards a decision, but I still think my logic is sound in that I couldn't leave anyways. Obito checks up on me if I'm so much as a day late, which could indicate concern for my well-being just as much as it could be an attempt to keep me from running off. I wouldn't get very far if I tried to leave—not without help, which I appear to have no way of obtaining. So, following through that I have no apparent pressing need to escape… that seems like a lot of risk for low potential benefit. I can re-examine the issue if it seems that I am in danger or if additional resources present themselves, but as of now I seem to be both stuck and unmotivated to change my position.'

In other words, she'd pretty well concluded that without any game-changing information, she wasn't going to do anything drastic.

There was really only one question left, but Aiko had no idea to answer it. She couldn't help but feel that… Well. Now that she'd basically decided that Obito had probably lied to her in some capacity, shouldn't she resent him? Resentment would be one reason to leave, if only to spite him.

She couldn't muster up the emotion, however. It seemed dishonest to get huffy and indignant. If it suited her purposes, she'd do worse than convince an amnesiac that they were friends. Aiko had done worse. On her very first mission, she'd inadvertently led a man to his death and not lost a night of sleep over it.

(That would have been impossible. The nightmares already kept her up, or at least they had at that point. They were losing their effect now that their brutality was a bit passé.)

Aiko and Obito were shinobi, and that meant they were hired killers (and therefore not the greatest people already). Whining about a lie seemed a bit petty at that point. Although that didn't mean she had no sense of morality or things she wouldn't do. There had to be a line somewhere, of course, or else they'd just be gibbering loonies. No- not loonies. They'd be like wild dogs that needed to be put down, and not really people. Something separated even shinobi from mindless animals.

That line seemed like loyalty—to her chosen companion, at least, if not a cause or ideology.

'And I suppose I've chosen my side. Obito's been good to me. I want to stay with him.'

The thought of leaving him alone… Well, it made her sad.

He wasn't well, after all. Kakuzu was surprisingly decent, but there was no chance in hell that he would look out for 'Obi if Aiko took off. He just wasn't the touchy feely type.

Besides, if he had tricked her… He'd done a damn good job, actually, and she could appreciate the artistry there. From a professional standpoint, if nothing else.

'So,' Aiko decided firmly. 'If I find out that Obito was telling the truth, and I am therefore in little danger from him, I'm staying.'

The corollary being, of course, that if he didn't have her best interest in mind, she was going to run screaming in the opposite direction.

It was good to have that all figured out. Especially since it was Wednesday, Obito should be coming back soon for the weekly accounting paperwork party. (Obito called it a 'meeting', but Kakuzu had approved the name change). Anyway, she was just going to act normally.

His cycas revoluta were hardy and lush this year. Zetsu fancied that he could smell hints of the toxic sap as a break of new leaves was beginning to erupt from the base of the plant, but it was his imagination. They were beautiful, though, and this specimen was a fine plant that had been flourishing for hundreds of years. Convincing bees to pollinate had been a fuss that required other, more traditionally decorative plants to be relocated nearby, so he was well invested in the project. He carefully removed a pup, ready to transfer it to soil of its own. Beautiful.

Zetsu stopped his work when he heard the crackle of Obito's holographic communication jutsu, swiveling out of the sand to face the much younger being.

Black Zetsu might have snarled if it had possessed features at the moment. The child was a necessary tool in order to revive his mother, but taking orders from one so transparent and short-sighted did grate occasionally.

White Zetsu had no such thoughts, nor was he aware of the reasoning behind his companion's derision. If he had, he probably would have gotten in the way.

"As it turns out, it's a good thing that you put those spores on the girl."

"Oh?" the wood-clones asked in unison. They had already known that: the point had been to force Obito to finally commit to a course of action. That was transparently a beneficial course of action.

The image of their supposed master flickered. "Yes. I'll contact you telepathically when Aiko uses her chakra chains. Use up the spores draining her chakra to about 10%, but do not allow her to realize that the drain is being caused by anything but the activation of her genetic birthright. Time it so that she loses consciousness as soon as possible, before she has a chance to realize that her eyes are not changing naturally. I will bring you to her and conduct the surgery at that point."

"There are worse plans," Black Zetsu acknowledged.

It was a neat solution. Almost suspiciously neat, coming from someone with such dramatic flair. If efficiency had been Obito's du jour tactic, then his chosen aliases would not have been so ridiculously flamboyant. There would also have been no superfluous waste of Amegakure, Otogakure, and Mizugakure, countries that had all been under his indirect control at one point. World domination had been in the grasp of one man, and he'd carelessly tossed it aside in favor of pursuing a dead man's ambition for a genjutsu that only Kaguya could truly master.

(It was mildly entertaining that one man who was dead to the world could have so much power and use it so poorly).

The projection nodded, shadows covering the curved mask. "Oh, and Zetsu? Don't undermine my decisions again."

With that, the Uchiha cut short the technique and flickered out of sight. White Zetsu huffed. "It wasn't me," he pouted.

Black Zetsu didn't bother to respond.

At least Obito was making progress towards the ultimate Tsukyomi, in the defective and faltering way that Obito accomplished anything. As soon as that was cast, Black Zetsu wouldn't need him any longer. Kaguya would be revived and the worlds made anew.

If there was a problem, Black Zetsu couldn't see it. He might have suspected Obito's stalling was a hint that he'd become attached to the sacrifice, but that didn't seem to be in Obito's character. If that was going to happen surely he would have shown signs of that weakness in relation to one of the Akatsuki members in the past years.

He unclenched his hand, letting the pup that he'd crushed fall to the ground. White Zetsu made a mournful sound, but no comment.

[tsuki-sennin]

It's time for episode 21 of Kamen Rider Geats!

Oh, excuse me, Kamen Rider Geezer!

...oh, pardon me, I meant Kamen Rider Gazer!

No, no, hold on, I'm sorry-!

Enter Password: Spoilers, I guess...

Gazer, log in!

Install. Innovation and Control.

Booting... VisionOS

Error! TAURI-MORTAE.exe has been identified by VisionOS as a harmful program. Immediate action required.

-Buffa camera!

-Who's filming him, I wonder?

-"I'll massacre all those motherfuckers, just you watch!"

-Beroba-chan, hello!

-Goddess of Creation.

-That's Mitsume, ain't it?

-Change the world to be Rider free but Jamato infested.

-OHHHH NADGEY'S BACK.

-Run, Sae-san!

-Ohhhhhhh, we're doing this again.

-Less than five hours until her family's shop is blown sky high.

-"GIVE ME THE FUCKING BUCKLE SKINNY BOY"

-"...yeah okay"

-Ace and Keiwa are left to deal with the rest of the fruit basket on their own.

-Suika bomber!

-Nice shot!

-"Lying saves a lot more people than you realize, Keiwa."

-Boost!

-"You can have this one, Keiwa-kun."

-"Oh cool, thank you Ace, I appreciate it :)"

-"KEIWA YOU FUCKER, YOU'D BETTER TAKE THAT FUCKING BOOST BACK RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA SHIT-"

-Seems Na-Go and Lopo are faring just fine.

-"You hand that Zombie chainsaw back over to me right now you BITCH!" (literal)

-Jelly bean

-Ohhhhhh, Daichi did his homework.

-...is he perhaps a DGP fan?

-Beroba-chan's got high tier backer rewards.

-Holy shit, Michinaga

-Crush all Kamen Riders indeed.

-Ja-Ja-Ja Strike!

-Neon!

-Goddamn, she took that.

-Y'know, producer guy's got a point. This is investing drama.

-Ace with the interruption.

-"Bitch took your gun."

-"Yo, Na-Go. I need me some connections."

-There he is. Niram-P.

-Griefing is not an epic gamer move.

-"There's this teenage girl with nothing better to do. You know how it is."

-Ohhhhh, Niram's our key.

-"And you? You're too good to be a human from now."

-Shared mysteriousness.

-Selective breeding.

-"Good thing I'm not dead, huh~?"

-Melonless.

-Goddamn, Na-Go's been carrying you, huh Sae-san?

-You were the sussiest baka all along!

-Here we go, in the thick of it all!

-It's gambling time!

-"What took ya so long, idiot!?"

-Set Fever!

-BOOST!

-HOT DAMN, SHE FASTER THAN EVER

-"Just you fucking wait, Geats."

-"You're dead! And yet you LIVE! You are ruining my VISION!"

-I didn't expect to get a Glare retool so soon, but... I'm gonna be real, Gazer looks just as sexy a suit.

-Boostriker~!

-Kon-chan~!

-Ohhhhh, bike action! Hell yeah!

-Hot damn, that's a lotta boost.

-I didn't realize the Jamato were made of nitroglycerin.

-KEIWA UHKHJG

-"Blue and yellow."

-For an executive, Niram's certainly got a lot of hands-dirtying on him.

-Forcefieldin'.

-Y'know, that painful seeming Jamato Buckle might've been best left at home. Just sayin'.

-Or maybe not.

-Delete!

-Blue and yellow!

-Ohhhhhhhhhh

-Ohhhhhh they're dead dead

-Oh whoops, never mind. Neon with the save.

-Think you'd like to give up, huh Sae-san?

-Ohhhhhhhhh

-Zombie Man lives.

-"This isn't fiction any more~! You're a real boy."

-By unanimous decision, Sae Ganaha has chosen to forfeit the Desire Grand Prix. She's pretty dang okay with it, if I'd say so myself.

-NEON

-OKAY

-I GENUINELY DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING WHAT THE FUCK

-She blew them the fuck up.

-Neon...

-Honey, you're breakin' my heart here.

-Glad you took so much out of this, Sae-san.

-See you on the outside, Sae-san.

-Buffa's got fans again.

-"It's just a prank, brooooo~!"

-Chirami, you shrewd bastard.

-"So tell me sweetheart... if you were to boil one of those boys alive, would you prefer kitsune udon or tanuki soba~?"

-Hot damn, Neon's discovered her girlboss era.

-GAME MASTER FIGHT AGAIN

-Oh! The

-The Glare suit survives!

-Oh shit, new character.

-Hot damn, the Divergence Game is closing in on a horrifying climax.

[noooooooabsolutelynot]

Mammon x Reader; 10 Minutes to Hide

Here's the start of my Obey Me! Pieces! Don't hesitate to recommend some good fic ideas... I am currently taking submissions, as well as commissions.

Hide and seek with the avatar of greed... What could go wrong?

WC: 3.5k

New terrain for me to prey upon. An invitation to the Devildom wasn’t a surprise to me, as I had been rather nosey in its business for the last few years of my life, and I had half-expected that with my wit, I’d be chosen… Truth was,

As much as I wanted to prance in and act like I owned the place? I didn’t know a damn thing. Then again, I wasn’t going in for an education. I wasn’t going in for a passion for learning and educating myself on the many other worlds other than the human realm, no— The brothers had been predators for so many decades, seeing themselves as higher than us humans, as if the fate of the afterlife didn’t rest in their clammy fucking palms.

So… I was going to rip each brother limb from limb.

Or– One brother, that was.

Respect left the rulebook the moment I rolled my packed-tight suitcase through the portal so graciously opened for me via the king himself, who was rather sweet, really. I had always had a thing for older men.

“Diavolo,” I looked at him as he held my hand in his large, tanned palm, looking at me with a fatherly sense of concern. As if I could be eaten up by even the smallest of critters littering the grimy floors of the Devildom. “We’ve spoken over letters, but… I’m not… entirely sure what the starting steps of transitioning to the Devildom are.”

In fact, I did not know ANY of the transition steps. I waltzed in with a dream and the urge to cause some problems, and, well– A lack of information.

As I awaited Diavolo’s response, I felt a set of eyes lock onto my figure from afar. A set of familiar amber eyes burned holes through my ego and slashed my picture-perfect persona in half as I pulled my lips into a firm purse and nodded at the response I had entirely blurred over as I made eye contact with the one and only… “Are you paying attention there? Hey, wake up newcomer,” Diavolo set my hand to rest beside me as I turned and popped on a smile. 

“Sorry! So sorry, I’m just so exhausted from packing…”

“Packing what? One damn suitcase?”

Apparently, those eyes came with a mouth, too. The very mouth I planned on spoiling the moment I stepped through the sparking circle that had led me into my future…

“Mammon! So glad you made it to meet our new human. Surprised you answered the message.”

“...Message?” I turned to him, raising a brow. We had been communicating from scrolls and old parchment, what the hell did they mean by… Message?

“Ya haven’t told em’ about their D.D.D yet?” Mammon’s eyes leveled with mine,  as if he were somehow blaming me for the situation Diavolo had placed him in. I had heard rumors of his attitude and looks… But I never expected something like this.

His white hair toppled over his tan forehead, contrasting in a beautiful, flashing array that was entirely unmissable. The eyes that had been on me before revealed themselves to be a mixture of blue and yellow, one fading into the other as his fingers raised to snap right in my face, pulling me from my daze. 

“Shit, sorry. Just tired.” I mumbled, blinking rapidly and looking away to meet Diavolo’s comforting eyes as he patted my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. Your D.D.D is in your dorm, along with the rest of your luggage I had escorted for you. Mammon will happily show you there! Won’t you?” His eyes flicked from me to Mammon, his deep, echoing voice somehow more terrifying when being sweet. Perhaps he was luring me into a false sense of security. Either way, I was nudged forward. “Go on, he doesn’t bite.”

“Usually.” I heard Mammon mumble under his breath as he motioned with a flick of his wrist for me to follow him. “Right. I’ll lead em’ RIGHT to their dorms, as per fuckin’ usual! I don’t understand why I’m always the damn tour-guide.” His tone was that of an angry teenager, with an attitude as sharp as a blade.

“Maybe it’s your charm,” I said in a sarcastic whisper, venom dripping from every syllable that earned a glare from the figure to my right. “Avatar of greed must have some form of charm in order to get away with all the things you do,” I clicked my tongue, taking a step towards him, which caused him to take a rather animated step away.

“I see ya chose to do some research on the great Mammon, huh? Can’t blame ya, I’m one hell of a subject,” he brushed his hair out of his face and huffed, walking along the poorly paved path toward the House of Lamentation. “Say, how much, uh… How much have ya done?”

“Enough.” I looked at him with a toothy grin and offered up a wink, which spurred on a disgusted look from my white-haired companion. 

The rest of the walk was rather boring, consisting of Mammon kicking rocks and whistling as I tugged my luggage along an uneven path, but eventually, we approached the overwhelmingly large housing area, and I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Seriously? How many demons go to this damn school?” I bit my bottom lip in nervousness and ended up mimicking Mammon’s previous actions, kicking a rock across the darkened ground to bounce off of one of the many walls ahead of me. “You’d think with how long they live they wouldn’t need to…”

“Aye. Just because we’re still in school doesn’t mean we’re stupid.” Mammon retorted, reaching out to snatch my bag from my grasp. “N’ don’t think you’re somethin’ special just because I’m doing this. It’s part of my damn curse.” He pushed the retractable handle down and picked the suitcase up with a grunt. “Diavolo almighty– What did you pack in this fuckin’ thing?” He hissed, slowly but surely making his way up the steps. I chuckled softly, simply watching him struggle all the way to the conveniently placed elevators. Elevators in hell. Who would’ve guessed?

After a painfully silent elevator ride other than the casual demonic music playing to appease those that had similar experiences, we were out and down the hall, heading towards my dorm for the next, what, year? I hadn’t a clue. I came here on a whim with some information on the demons I’d be attempting to gain control over, not how long it’d take— A flaw on my end, surely.

He read through the numbers, standing in front of a door and going entirely rigid. His entire face seemed to grow red with anger, and his knuckles yellowed over the grasp he had on the suitcase. “This can’t be right…” He hissed under his breath, eyes narrowing at the door.

“...I was told they had adjusted the dorm to my liking? Maybe if you just open it, I can tell you.” I offered, walking up and standing just behind him so that my words pressed harshly against his ears, even with the height difference between the two of us.

He gripped the doorknob with growing anger and opened the door slowly, to reveal a forest-themed room, with soft gray walls and climbing vines, plants hanging from shelves of books that seemed ancient, and a bed that looked hand-carved, with poles that clung to soft green curtains. It was like a fantasy novel— This most definitely was my room. 

“This it?” He said, jaw clenched as he hesitantly let go of the silver doorknob. I nodded slowly, brushing past him to enter. 

“It’s stunning! Yeah, I think it is–” The scent of fresh flowers filled my nose as I collapsed onto the most comfortable mattress I had ever felt and groaned in satisfaction. I pressed my back against the cushion while my heels dug into the wooden base, causing an arch. I felt that same burning gaze hit me, if not harder than before. “Fuuuckkk– This is nice. I didn’t know they truly took requests in the devildom.” I looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, only for him to quickly look away with cheeks that were ever-so-slightly stained pink.

“Take your damn suitcase and get unpacked… Then meet me outside in thirty.” He grumbled, tossing the thing inside to collide against the floor with a bang. I scrambled up into a sitting position and paused.

“Hold on— Why were you so tense about this being my room? Is there a problem with i–” The door slammed in my face and I heard rapid footsteps rushing away before another sound of a door slamming. 

Mammon and I were neighbors.

—--------------------------------------------

Thirty minutes passed like wildfire. I had unpacked everything in a rush during the last ten, seeing as I had spent the first twenty struggling with the D.D.D that I had been gifted so kindly by Diavolo. It was rather easy to set up, but I had to find out how to silence certain apps, get contacts filled out, blah, blah…—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Would ya open up? It’s been more than thirty minutes, ya fuckin’ idiot! I told you to be out here!”

Maybe having Mammon as a neighbor wasn’t going to be as helpful as I had originally imagined. “I’m coming! If you’d hold on to your damn hat for just a minute… I’m changing.” A lie, but I figured it’d shut him up long enough for me to slip on a jacket and toss the rest of my stuff into the unorganized dresser drawers I’d have to fix up later. “Alright. If you’re gonna blow the door open and yell at me, I’m fully clothed now, so go at it.”

To which he did, opening my door and barging in as if it were his dorm, too. “We have dinner in an hour, and I still have to show ya around the school– Quickly, since ya don’t have a watch.” He spat, leaning against the doorframe and staring at me through meticulously placed shades that hid the true emotions within his eyes.

“Okay, one, I do have a watch, the time here is just all wonky. Two, I’m only like– Two minutes late? Can you not wait for more than two minutes, Mammon?” I zipped up the sweatshirt halfway over a black sports bra and some shorts I had slipped on previously, to which he seemed to grumble. I could assume it wasn’t the fact that I was covering up, but more so that he enjoyed the sight.

“Just get the fuck out here so we can get started, yeah? Don’t make me drag ya.” He motioned for me to leave with a circling hand, to which I obliged, listening as he closed the door behind me.

“Oh, what a gentleman,” I joked, earning a dissatisfied groan from the butt of it. 

“Looks like you’ll be closing your own doors from now on.” 

—---------------------------------

I was forced through another section of a quiet, awkward walk, ten or so minutes until we approached the school’s large, dramatic entrance. “So you said we have about an hour?” I asked, eyeing him from the side as I paused, not daring to enter without my guide.

“Less than, now that you’ve chosen to walk so slow.” He walked up, turning to stand in front of me with his back faced towards the school’s doors. “What, you wanna quit on me now?”

“...Actually.” I paused, grinning, “I was thinking we could do something more… Fun. We always have tomorrow for you to tour me around, and fifty minutes is much more than what we need for a gambling game like this–”

It was as if his tail had perked up at the sound of gambling. His eyes widened and his hands gripped the sides of his burnt sienna and black striped jacket, overlaying a black tank tucked into black slacks— Very Mammon. “...Gambling? Ya have the great Mammon’s ear, go on, go on.” He stepped forwards, closing the minimal space between us as those sunglass-covered eyes met mine through their orange tint.

“A little game of hide-and-seek to get to know the school– With a catch.” I hummed, “...I go inside, search around, find a place to hide. If you find me within ten minutes, I’ll go ahead and convince someone else to tour me around, and get you out of this little situation. If you don’t…” I tapped my chin, as if I truly had to think about what I’d want from him when I won… “...We make a pact.”

His stance went from cocky to slumped. I could feel the temptation lingering within him, craving that sweet, sweet escape from a long day of touring and answering questions, while the other half feared what might happen. What would happen, but he didn’t quite know that yet.

“Ya mean to say, you want to play a game of hide and seek in unfamiliar territory with almost no chance at winning in the slightest, just to get a small chance to create a pact with me?” He raised painted nails to lower his shades along the bridge of his nose, just far enough for me to catch a glimpse of the competitive look glossing over his eyes.

“Damn right I do.” I smiled with full confidence, not afraid of losing such a petty challenge. Having Mammon as my tour guide or not, I’d still get toured— It was purely him that had a win-lose situation, here.

He shifted his weight, considering it for a moment. More than a moment, really, a good minute of counting his fingers, staring off into nothingness, anything to not meet the glare I gave him.

“Alright– Fine. Ya get five minutes to find a place… And only five minutes. Not like the thirty-two, ya took earlier. Got it?” He flashed his pearly whites in an intimidating array. I grimaced.

“Fine. Five minutes, no exceptions. If you catch me, you have to walk me back, though. No leaving me on the spot.” I raised my finger, shaking it slightly. He rolled his eyes at the gesture and pushed it out of the way, leaning forward so that our faces were nearly touching. 

“Do I look like I cheat, Darling?”

No response. I turned before he saw my cheeks set ablaze and got to running, sprinting to the doors and pulling them open to skid into the main entrance that led into a hallway, after hallway, after hallway…

“Oooh… Shit.”

 I had not thought this through. I thought it was a normal school, just– Dark, or a bit scarier. It was like a labyrinth of classes, and lounges, and cafeterias that split into kitchens– It was a nightmare! 

“Better start runnin’! Time’s starting now!” I heard Mammon holler from outside, pushing my feet to press against the gleaming tiles and forth into the hallway directly in front of me. Maybe if I hid somewhere obvious he wouldn’t expect it? Or if I hid in a cubby of some sort– Could demons smell humans? Did we have a scent? Or could he hear my breathing with some sort of super-demon hearing? Lord Diavolo… Save me now.

Had a minute passed? An hour? Was Mammon already on my tail? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that I was in some random classroom on the second floor, pressed against the back wall of a pantry full of school supplies. Or, what looked like school supplies, anyway. With the light off I couldn’t quite tell, and honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to, with the other things I had heard so far. One thing I was not excited about was dinner, that was for sure.

Fuck. Dinner. My stomach growled at the thought. I began to slump down onto the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. It had to have been five minutes, right? 

My D.D.D beeped, prompting me to pick it up and swiftly silence the upcoming message. It read;

Mammon; 20:42 - Today

Timer started. Consider yourself warned. I’m gonna find ya in a minute, if not less.

9:52…9:51…9:50…

Mammon had attached a timer to our messages to time his little seeking adventure. I groaned quietly and placed my D.D.D. face down, leaning back to listen. He wasn’t difficult to make out from the other eerie sounds of the school. I could hear his rushing footsteps from a mile away, fading in and out as he opened doors and menacingly cooed soft phrases that I couldn’t quite make out. Such thin walls for such a large school– How did anyone get any learning done at all?

I glance at my phone after what seemed like hours, to see the timer ticking down once more…

 7:33…7:32…7:31…

Another seven minutes of this agony. Just for one damn pact. I knew I needed it, and that in the end, it’d be worth it, but honestly– It felt like some sort of horror movie with the off-and-on silence and the thumping of my own heart against my ribcage as I heard him climb the stairs smoothly.

“Come on, would ya at least give me a hint?” I heard him call from a few hallways down. “This place is too damn big, even with your lack of knowledge ya can still shimmy into the little spaces that I can’t reach– How does this work, anyway? Do I need to tag ya?” A moment of silence as he searched for an answer, to no avail. A huff and the scraping of his dress shoes against the polished floor neared closer, door after door being opened and shut. “I swear, if ya went off the grounds I’ll have your head…”

Another door, closer to me, this time.

6:27…6:26…6:25…

“We could just call it a day and head back now…? Hell, I’ll still be your guide, if ya really want me to, just– Come on out! Who wouldn’t want the great Mammon as their tour guide, anyway?” His voice seemed to be rising in panic. Something that brought a sinister smile to my face. If I could only hold out for five more minutes… Just five more…

5:45

“This is starting to get really boring.” He kicked the wall, stumbling along the hallway and reaching the neighboring classroom to the one I sat so quietly within. At this point, I could hear his every move. It was just he was doing it on purpose, but… He wasn’t exactly smart enough to do so, and in the realization of that, my shoulders slumped and I raised a hand to press against my mouth, preventing my breathing from being heard.

A minute of searching that room passed.

4:37

“Diavolo have mercy, I’ve lost already.” A defeated Mammon groaned, swinging his arms towards the door of the classroom I rested in the closet of…

I might’ve gotten a bit too into the whole cat-and-mouse game. My hand clamped down over my mouth as my nails dug into my thigh to keep me quiet. It felt as though the world could end right then and there as he slowly opened the door.

“Something’s different…” Like a dog sniffing the air, Mammon entered, eyes scanning every corner of the room. Or at least, that’s what I assumed he was doing, as he was remaining entirely still after entering. Pain shot through my body as my nails buried themselves deeper into the flesh of my thigh. “C’mon, we can work this out civilly, y’know? It was fun at first, but my patience is running thin, n’ ya don’t want to see me without some sort of patience,” footsteps approached the closet door, casting a shadow beneath the crack that separated me from the demon outside. 

I pressed myself back against the wall, sneakers gripping the ground for dear life as I silently begged everything to remain just as it was, entirely silent. I needed to win.

3:22

“Surely ya wouldn’t be so stupid…” Fingertips raised to press against the wooden door, cracking it open slightly.

3:00.

“...To leave doors open when ya look for places to hide?”

…Shit.

The door burst open and before I could react, he was on top of me, his chest pressing against mine while his fingers gripped my wrists in a threatening hold, pressing them against the floor– Pressing me against the floor, with my hair sprawled out beneath me in what he must’ve thought was a delectable display.

“Found ya.” That shit-eating grin greeted me, smacking the fright off of my face and replacing it with disgust. He frowned at the sight, yet stayed over top of me, tilting his head. “Were ya scared, darlin’? Can’t imagine someone like you could be scared in a situation they started.”

I licked my lips, turning my head to spit to the side. “I’m not scared of you.” I looked back up at him, at his glowing, revealed eyes under the shadows of the barely lit closet. “...For the most part, anyway.”

“Mm, is that so?” He slid my hands together over my head, gripping both with one hand while the other went to grab my chin, lifting it so that I was forced to look into his predatory stare. “Why don’t we test that theory?”

[oranges-arent-fruits-idiot]

this is for the whole system but it's ara rn

lock screen is dirk strider fanart cause he's so babygirl

chocolate we fucking hate cheese

i mean we have like 20+ nicknames but mainly kae (short for kaeso, our system and collective name)

we last listened to joyful girl by ani difranco (it's so good u should check out ani she's epic)

yes we write fanfic for fun sometimes but it's just a continuation of things we like

we are not on discord :/

we have our ears pierced lol

we think someone's long term behavior says a lot about them, not first impressions

we would be a triple chocolate cookie cause we're a bad decision who keeps you up at night ;)

we have had dogs all our life but we like cats more cause they don't bark and we're incredibly noise sensitive

headphones 100% cause it's hard as hell to break them but we don't own any

"is that biblically accurate freddy fazbear?" in response to a photo of a cat with a top hat

weird fact: if bunnies get wet they die

we are a bit of both since we sleep from midnight-4am est and get up immediately but function really well at night

we nap in bed lol

of course we're every flavor of gay what did you expect

insomniac goat child

jeans 100000% we fucking hate sweatpants

we don't go to starbucks but if we did it would probs be a hot chocolate or one of those fucking energy drink fruit things they keep advertising

we can't stand yellow, wdk why

our most prized possession is probs our guitar we named jessicaa. she's our prized possession.

tea 10000000000%

we fucking love mesosaurs they're epic look them up

we've been on tumblr for a couple months now and we intend to be on here til the end of time

we would bring snans unddertheale (there's gregory, why the fuck is he wanting to bring sans.)

our aesthetic is 70's teenage gay canadian bimbo

our dream job is either a:

music/history teacher

sole creator of our different art projects (animated tv show about DID and mental illness, books, other sitcoms, creepypastas, music, giant fucking epic paintings, etc)

criminal justice lawyer

full time engineering/gaming content creator

and/or sole owner/employee of a small plushie/accessory/kandi/cosplay/giant fucking mecha kaju suit making business

a few of us are very taken with the best person we've ever met they're so amazing we're so fucking happy to have an awesome gf. the rest of us are either adult fictives who are aroace/involved with someone in their source or a child.

our fav outfit is a green and blue and brown and white striped shirt with long navy jorts, a brown belt, tall white socks, black vans or converse with handmade platforms soles and beaded laces, a old digital watch our mom got in the 80's, a silk hair tie to tie up our hella long wolf cut/mullet, our crocheted cross body bag with ~15 fnaf keychains, and our fucking awesome kandi collection.

we know all the lyrics to all the songs on our 75+ hour playlist which has 1,400+ songs caus we're fucking crazy

our hair is a dark blonde but we wanna dye it light pink with platinum roots

we talk to ourselves all the fucking time cause we're a system and we also have some alters who are hyper verbal (we think that's the word) who don't shut up ever

we wear makeup sometimes but it depends on who's fronting and what our gender is at the time

best compliment was probably when our best friend genuinely wanted to hang out with us. sounds really sad but the fact that anyone would even like or respect us is fucking insane to us cause we got really fucking bullied lol (sorry to get deep but that's just the truth)

@bloodyraremedium ily /p

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!