#might force you to watch jackass with me too

[restingcorpse]

Asking you out on a date just to force you to watch the footage of Nine inch nails performing at Woodstock '94 with me.

[cu7ie]

!! ( ｡> ᯅ <｡) ~ʷᵃʰʰ⠀⠀⠀ PLAY PRETEND // statue ⠀⠀⠀... loading file

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ (⊃´｡• ᵕ •｡`)⊃ the one where you're sleeping beauty.

⠀⠀⠀cw ☆ consensual somno (sorta, reader is pretending) ☆ mikey being a jackass ☆ clothes ripping ☆ oral (male receiving) ☆ large insertions ☆ reader has a punani and gets some fingers in it.

Your mouth is overflowing with saliva as you try and suck the cock that's making it gape, trying and not succeeding to avoid choking on the dick in your throat, shallow thrust's of your boyfriend's hips accompanied by his whining.

"Not enough," spittle trickles down your cheek as Manjirou's desperation begins opening up more of your mouth. He's hardly hitting the back of your throat and yet you can barely catch a breath. You're trying to breath through your nose but his hip thrusts are shaky and erratic and when the head of his cock brushes your uvula you can't help but choke just a little.

"You gotta get more in there." And if you could speak to utter a protest you would but you've already got your proverbial hands full, sucking with all your might and stroking off whatever you can't reach. Manjirou looks down with intensity, hair curtaining his face as he watches you struggle and decides it's for the best if you just stop, right now.

Your mouth has the residual shape of an 'o' as Manjiro grips your head and slides you off of him with a wet pop. You look up, bleary eyed with remnants of tears hanging near your waterline. Manjiro is flushed, his mouth gaping in awe of your cutely swollen lips and the dull look in your eye.

"Just let me fuck you." Your shoulders heaving, your heavy pants the only thing that register as a sound at the moment. You force yourself to remember what he said to be able to respond to it, subconsciously licking the cum from your lips before you do so.

(So salty.)

"No, no no. That .. wasn't .. the deal." You frantically shake your head and try to pull on his thigh for leverage. Manjirou pushes you down and keeps your eyes level with his cock, the swollen head leaking a lot more than when you first started. "Asshole,"

"I'm not trying to be! But this isn't gonna work. It's your throat or your ass and' you can barely even take half of me. You can't suck dick for the life of you-"

"Oh fuck off, then. 'f that's what you think, stick it up your own ass, how about it?" You take his hand off the back of your head and leave the guy standing there feeling dumb, dick bobbing and swaying like he's some kind of sex doll, uncomfortably stiff between his thighs. "Noooo. Wait-", 

He hears you slam the door (presumably the one to your bedroom) and he follows behind like a kicked dog, his dick in one hand and his pride in the other. "I didn't mean it you know…" he's saying as he opens the door and pokes his little head in and feigns innocence, like you're going to fall for his sweet words this time. 

"You suck dick just fine-"

"Manjirou. We're not having sex." He groans and stomps his foot like it's gonna make you change your mind, trying to convince you with his eyes that you ought to sleep with him tonight.

"No no no no no. Figure out what to do with your dick on your own. M'not fucking you." And with that final word, you turn the bedroom lamp off and turn over. Not convinced of his rejection, he tucks his boner back into his drawers and tries getting comfy beside you. You check him in the ribs and lean into your body pillow.

You're asleep a few minutes later, breathing heavy yet peaceful as you make distance with Mikey's impudence within the comfort of your mind palace. Mikey's breathing heavy, too. 

For an entirely different reason, angrily fucking his fist beside you in bed as he tries to curl into a pillow groaning as the velvety sheet drags along the head of his penis and makes him sigh, wishing you would have just let him fuck you. You're always nice and tight, with this whiny pitch to your voice whenever he's balls deep and just going at it; the wet sound of your sex emboldening him and embarrassing you. 

You always underestimate his strength on account of his size. He's managed to hold you up and fuck you just like that, no problem.

He can even laugh to himself, remembering the look on your face.

(That shaky gasp as he pressed your knees to your chest, holding you up with both hands, back against the far wall of your bedroom. Astonished, confused, horny. You're moaning like some whore as he grabs the fat of your ass for leverage, fingers carefully gripping the curves of you and positioning the head of his cock so it catches on the lips of your pussy. And baby you're shaking like you're coming down with something.)

He can't see your sleeping expression now but bets it wasn't nearly as adorable.

"..hmph." he sighs deeply through his nose, pausing a moment before the schlick shlick resumes and he's back to furiously getting off, his impudence crackling away as he is consumed by fire, arousal making his dick pulse and his body fidgit like he can’t be asked to sit still. You stir beside him but he doesn't regard you for the time being, too focused on finishing to notice how you've stopped breathing as deeply, how you're frigid and still and listening to him jerk his cock like it's his last day on fucking earth. 

"...haah." a shuttering gasp and more weight dips the bed. He's holding his shirt under his chin and feeling his balls tighten, his shaft throbbing in his hand - slick with his own precome, some of your saliva still. "Fuuuck."

Something about his desperation flips a switch inside you.  You listen to him pant and moan as arousal twists in your belly, and it goes straight to your pussy. You're not touching yourself yet but you feel arousal trickle out of you, your pussy getting slicker and wetter and you subconsciously grip the pillow tighter, Manjirou's groaning riding up higher and higher. Subtlety cast aside, Manjirou reaches out for you.

You tense up. And maybe that was a dead giveaway to the voyeur in you. Maybe it was a sleep response that Mikey didn't register. His hands are straightening your back out and you don't know what he's thinking until he speaks.

"You don't have to do anything. Just go back to sleep, you little whore. I'll handle it," He sounds a little tired himself as he pulls on the back of the frilly panties you wear, tugging once and shivering when he hears the elastic pop. "Oops! Hope you didn't like those too much. Not like you can complain. You're asleep." And you must be, because when his animal instinct has him resorting to pulling your panties to the side with a finger, you're still not moving. And while he kicks aside the covers to get a better look at your glistening lips, thinking about how badly he wants to spill this load in your pussy and watch it spill out,

You don't move. In any way he can observe. Your eyelids are twitching but your head is in the pillow. Your lips are trying not to quirk up into a smile, you're trying not to belt out in wanton moans as his finger buries itself into your folds and he smears the slick against the pad of his finder. But he's narrow mindedly focused on the snatch that his palm heel grinds into, your clit swollen from his eager ministrations. You groan into the silk cover on your pillow. Manjiro pretends he doesn't hear you.

He spreads your legs and his hands curve around your thighs, plush flesh bulging from between his fingers as he squeezes you. Raising and repositioning your hips until he can see your pussy quivering with his own eyes.  Your panties are taught like a cloth cage, they're being sucked in by your greedy little pussy and he wishes it was him, so as one does, he goes about making dream reality.

He licks his lips.

"Wrap your legs around me — just like that. Oooh.." he bites his lip as if to say 'you little tease', when he's still doing most of the work on his own. 

"I knew you were eager for some dick." His cock slides along your thigh with the barest of touches and you can hear the excitement build in his throat. "Ya didn't have to pull back on me earlier. You could have just said how badly you wanted me to…" He crooks the fingers he's lodged inside of you into the soft tissue of your walls. 

"Oh - ho, shit. We've got a bit of a leak down here." His tone is condescending, even. But he's not lying, your pussy is soaking your panties and he really does riiiiip them right off you, the broken remnant around your hips but leaving your sensitive lips on display for him oogle.

"What to do about that.."

He peers at your pussy and mulls over a solution. You notice he gets silent and leans into you, maybe trying to glean your thoughts from the way your Adam's apple bob's as you forget that sleeping people breathe deeper than that.

".. you think I should plug it up?" The sound of a smile leaks into his voice. He holds the base of his shaft and moves your hips a little this way, a little that way.

His cock teases at the fold, rubbing up against your clit and making you fidget in your 'sleep'.

"Okay!" Mikey is deceptively cheerful, the words on his tongue sharp like the devil's horns. "Whatever you think is best."

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀don’t be shy !⠀send this user a message!⠀૮ • ﻌ - ა⠀

[zikkytheblicky]

hii! how are u?? Hope I'm not bothering<3

could u do (separate) headcanons with Alastor and Vox x a chubby Male Reader who is kinda insecure and very sweet and kind?

if u only do for one character for request, i prefer alastor

have a Nice day/night!

HIII IM GOOD YOURE NOT BOTHERING ME LMAO I JS SAW THIS 💓!!

(A LITTLE WARNING I DIDNT HAVE ANY TIME TO DO VOX N DIDNT WANT THIS TO COME OUT TOO LATE/DIDNT RLLY HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR HIM SO IM SO SO SORRY 😭!! )

anyway this idea is so AGGGGH its so adorable ☹️☹️☹️ also some characters might be a little ooc ! im not too sure that’s kinda ur pov!! :3

SORRY FOR THE bit of lore i js inserted for the angst

c/w:

you and charlie have a little brother older sister relationship. very loving <3.

for the french/creole i used google translate so im sorry if its wrong :(

ALSO YES ALASTOR IS HALF HATIAN LETS GOOO 🙏🏾 CARIBBEAN HUSBAND 🙏🏾🙏🏾

everything about the little niffty part i had to google cuz i genuinely thought niffty was 5..

husk is so black coded idc idc idc

sir pentious holds such a special place in my heart i love him. ☹️☹️💓

alastor’s is kinda crack like until you get to the NSFW and the angst part!!

mentions of cannibalism.

ALASTOR

MEETING A GENTLEMAN.

the first time alastor met you was the day after the meeting with the overlords. charlie mentioned you were one of her best friends and somethings about you and how you and her clicked like two puzzle pieces because of your similar personalities.

alastor, like the gentlemen he was, introduced himself first, complimenting your looks and calling you sweet names off the bat..

you obviously caught his interest. may it be because of your calm aura, your gentle eyes, or the sweet tone of your voice… or maybe the plushness of your body?

as the sinners finished trampling you with questions and introductions, alastor spawned right in front of you- you didn’t know he was watching or even there for that matter. “hello there my dear! it seems charlie has friends besides her girlfriend after all!-“ “hey!” you heard charlie interrupt, a pout on her lips. their antics caused you to giggle into your palm which immediately caught alastor’s and the rest of the sinners’ attentions. “you are quite the adorable thing aren’t you?” alastor whispered, his tone holding what seemed to be a seductive tone behind the static that filled the room. “huh ?!” you asked as your face became flustered, refraining the urge to hide your face into your palms and slowly sink into the floor of the hotel. alastor just smirked, standing up to his full height (wait.. he was leaning down this whole time? what the fuck is it with overlords and there overbearing heights ! you thought bitterly, craning your neck to look up at the (sadly) much taller demon.) later on when everyone went to there respectable bedrooms you went down stairs for a nice, tall glass of water. unknowing of the pairs of red eyes that stared hungrily at your abdomen.

that day you went into your specially made bedroom with a teeth mark on your tummy.

after a few months he got to know you better.. and better.. and ended up dating you. which wasn’t a shocker to charlie since she’s noticed the overbearing and possessive stares alastor has sent you and the bashful glances and flustered faces sent alastor’s way.

but the others..

“toots theres no way you’re dating that jackass.. though he’s good lookin’ though.. got taste.” angel dust had said with a disgusted yet amused look on his face, faking a gag as he stared at the claws massaging your scalp and the toothy grin on alastor’s face. “tsk. gays.” was all angel said before turning away from you both and going back to bothering husk.

“i know already. you guys don’t think i haven’t noticed the bite marks on m/n/n (male names’ nickname) thighs and stomach ?” husk had huffed out, rolling his eyes at the look that was sent his way from charlie and forcing himself not to laugh at the way blush that was already on your face sprouted from your face to your neck. “i had to keep it a buck. sorry.” (husk was definitely not sorry he likes seeing you flustered it’s funny to him.)

“oh! sssso i guess the eggssss were right!” sir pentious slurred out, a grin in his face. “you too make such an interesting couple! one a nice, kind and sweet sinner and the other a… a..” sir pentious stuttered as static started to fill his ears. “a..a very well put together gentlemen overlord!” sir pentious rushed out before going back upstairs to his pet eggs.

“wait men can impregnate other men ?” niffty had asked curiously. all you did was sigh, clasping your hands together as you shook your head while alastor let out a staticky cackle, clutching his chest as he leaned over in laughter. “thats- thats not what we said niffty .” you murmured, rubbing your temple gentle before playfully hitting alastor. “it’s not funny she’s like 5.. or something!” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. “she-“ alastor coughed- “she was in her 20s when she died, mon amour (my love). and that was in the 1950s.” alastor corrected you gently with a toothy grin and a pat to your head. “oh..” you mumbled leaning into the touch with a pleased sigh. “gay people!” niffty blurted out, raising a rainbow flag she clearly stole from charlie in the air in front of you both. “oh my god. so out of pocket.” you gasped out, a slight giggle coming out while alastor cackled even harder than before

ALASTOR ver 2

(IN)SECURITY.

when alastor found out about your insecurity he was very confused. very. who cares about how you look? you’re so beautiful to him and that’s all that mattered. who cared if someone wouldn’t date you because of your weight? most people like that are still lonely masturbating themselves on valentines day while listening to those break up songs.

though that’s what he wanted to say, he was actually very gentle with you and was so sweet and practically worshiping your body when he found out (not like he didn’t worship your body on the daily.) though he was a little silly.

“what’s all this nonsense you’re saying, Mon pécheur ? (my sinner)” alastor cooed with a frown, pulling you into his lap and gently squeezing your stomach. “you see this? this is what keeps me sane.” “and these?” alaator grabs your thighs pressing small kisses to them. “these keep me from killing everyone in hell.” alastor mumbled into your thighs, resting his head on them as you combed through his hair. sitting in comfortable silence despite the happy tears that flowed down your chubby cheeks beautifully.

the time you fat shamed yourself in front of charlie and he got so mad at you. (he comforted you by being scary as fuck and then complimenting snd practically worshipping your body.)

“‘m so.. fat i need to start starving myself again.” you murmured quietly. so quietly. so quietly the sinners you say near didn’t hear you. but who did? charlie. she was standing across the room talking to vaggie and she STILL heard you. the only reason alastor didn’t hear you along with charlie was because he was out taking “care” of the eggs (you made sure he listened to vaggie by threatening to revoke his permission to bite your thighs and stomach.) charlie turned your direction and furrowed her eyebrows. “hold on, vaggie. i’ll be right back..” charlie mumbled as she strutted her way towards you where you, angel, husk, and sir pentious were in a group chatting.. well except you. you only sat with them because you were lonely and didn’t want to disturb charlie and vaggie- that’d be rude. charlie pulled you away with her to the second floor of the hotel in a dark corner. “m/n/n..” charlie started, a knowing frown and glance in her eyes. no. not this again. “charlie- charlie please..“ “listen, m/n/n. i don’t wanna have to tell him but i kinda have to. alastor will never trust me again if i dont tell him this… but seriously, amour (platonically.) going back to starving yourself? you remember what happened last time?” charlie whispered, cupping your cheeks with her soft palms. “‘m sorry.” you mumbled into her palm. “it’s ok. now are you ready for me to tell al?” charlie asked as she slowly took out a bracelet that had “INCASE OF EMERGENCY” written on it. “yes..” you mumbled, slowly moving towards al’s room as you got ready for a feral alastor to appear. “now.” charlie clicked the button on the bracelet, flashing a smile at m/n before disappearing back downstairs on the main floor. almost immediately alastor appeared behind you, grabbing you by your waist rather roughly and taking you inside of his room. “al, please i didn’t-“ “silans (hatian creole; silence).” was what you could make out- he was glitching slightly and his voice was very staticky. and also- oh god he’s speaking creole. he usually only spoke creole when he was pissed or was cursing someone out. you felt a shiver down your spine as alastor’s shadow locked the door- hell even it looked mad. and it’s a shadow for hell’s sake. “Wi mesye (yes sir)” you mumbled back in his native language, pulling your legs closer to your chest and resting your head against your thighs, sniffling slightly. you felt like such a disappointment (your nails digged into your thighs), why couldn’t you just listen for once? so useless. useless, useless, useless.“are you crying, love? what are you thinking?” alastor pulled you hands away from your thighs, watching the skin heal in a split second. “‘m such a disappointment. why can’t i just listen to you and charlie? im so fat too- why can’t i be as skinny as-“ you were immediately shut up by the cruel, almost scary laugh alastor let out. when you rubbed your blurry eyes full of tears you could see al’s eyes glowing, his regular toothy grin was now a scary, painfully fake (even more fake than his usual one), and prey-like. “silly boy. so stupid yet sweet and bashful yet so careless. do you not know how much your body is worth? in the city i practically was born in (cannibal city) your body is worth over a million. and i get to have it all to myself- every curve, every freckle, every birthmark, every bump and every hair. just to myself. do you know how nice it feels to know that, little deer?” alastor hummed out, pulling his coat off and pulling you up onto him to sit on his chest, his hands roamed around your chest and thighs, treating each and every curve with so much love it hurt.

ALASTOR ver 3

NSFW HEADCANNONS (SHORT)

he uses your ass or thighs as a pillow sometimes and likes to bully you by telling people he’s friends with on how much he recommends your ass or thighs to his friends (as a joke of course).

“i truly recommend this pillow to you, dear !” alastor lifted his head up slightly, grabbing your ass in his sharp claws and squeezing it gently. “very soft and squishy too!” al gave his signature toothy grin as rosie chuckled into her palm. eating another piece of human legs that she had boiled up nicely and was seasoned to perfection; just the way she liked it.

purposefully does doggystyle just to see your ass jiggle (very much an ass man imo.)

loves your kind personality. one time you told him not to go to hard because charlie wanted you to help her do documents the next day and it required you to move a lot. alastor purposefully fucked you into the stars (his excuse was, “i don’t like getting told what to do.”). you didn’t realized though. you just thought he was really pent up and didn’t mean it.

alastor added special noise cancellation to his room once he started dating you. you never asked him why when you started dating but now..? you understand.

alastor loves watching your ass idk why.

alr that’s it bye bye!! :J this is a lil late (๑´·.̫ · `๑)

[featherandferns]

Prompt 2 with angst

2. I blame you for this.

I lost the original ask (which was from ages ago - sorry!) but they added extra information along this line: JJ cheated by ‘accident’ and wants reader to forgive but having hard time trusting. Fluff ending, possible smut.

a mistake - prompt 2

JJ is hot on your tail as you storm into the chateau. You can’t believe he followed you back. Can’t believe he had the nerve to. No, not the nerve. The audacity. 

“Baby, come on! We can just talk about this!”

“Talk about it?” you echo. Spinning around, you can’t help but laugh humourlessly. “What the hell is there to talk about?”

JJ falters in his step. You watch as he swallows, slow and thick, and you shake your head, lips down turning into a painful, deep frown. 

“JJ. You slept with another woman.”

You’re surprised you keep yourself from gaping in shock when he raises a finger, pointing at you accusingly. 

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t say it like that! Like I cheated on you or some shit!”

Another laugh bubbles up through you. You’d never been good with shock. Some people freeze, some people cry, and some people laugh and cackle and grin. The whole situation is so absurd to you, so far from what you could ever imagine, that it doesn’t feel real. 

“You did!”

“We were on a break!”

“You think you’re getting out of this on a technicality?”

“I think it’s an important dissertation,” he loudly replies. 

You grit your teeth, eyes narrowing. “It’s distinction, and no, it is not.”

You want as much space between you as possible. He could be on another continent and it still wouldn’t be far enough. The thought of having him near you, having him talk to you- it all just makes you feel sick to your stomach. Storming into the hallway and into John B’s (thankfully empty bedroom), you go to shut the door. JJ forces it open, stronger than you. Tears begin to sting your eyes. Why can’t he just leave it alone? 

“Look, can you just try to understand things from my perspective?” JJ says, the anger morphing into desperation. 

You stare at him, lips parted. He takes your silence as cause to continue. 

“I thought you’d left me forever, and I was spinning out, and freaking, and didn’t know what to do.”

“So you fell into another girl’s bed?”

“It was a month later!” JJ snaps, throwing his arms up. “You hadn’t spoke to me for a month!”

The thing is, you and JJ had a rather dysfunctional relationship. Neither of you had very good role models growing up of what a healthy, happy romance looked like: your dad had cheated too many times to count on your mom, and JJ’s mom and dad were a nightmare before the former up and left. That meant codependency and challenge and combativity. I’m not happy if you’re not happy, and you’re never fucking happy type beats. So, you finally broke. You told him that you both needed a break and some space to think. And now it seems that whilst you were actually trying to reflect and work on yourself, JJ had been getting his yips from other chicks on the island. Beneath all the anger and rage, you were breaking inside. Since JJ admitted it after a more than bizarre interaction with some brunette at a kegger, all you can picture is her lips on his neck, and his hands on her figure, and their writhing, sweaty bodies intertwined…Your stomach is sick. 

Finally, the tears begin to fall. Your heart shatters as you let out a shaking breath. JJ’s own face crumbles with that. He closes the distance between you, grabbing for your arms and hands, refusing to back down until you relent. 

“It was a mistake. It meant nothing, okay? And I know jackasses always say that, and it’s a cheap line, and it sounds like a cop-out, but I swear on my ma’s grave that it’s true. I swear on my fucking life.”

Your lip quivers. You can’t help but look up at JJ. Darling, sweet, troubled JJ. You knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. And as you stared up at him, you knew he was telling the truth. Maybe some might say that you were being wishful, or too forgiving, or running back to a bad thing…But you’d seen JJ lie plenty of times to know when he was being honest. To you, the difference was as clear as night and day.

JJ tries to steal himself. His voice is quiet, vulnerable, prepared for rejection, when he speaks. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

“I blame you for this,” you hear yourself say. You’re not entirely sure what you by it. Blame him for cheating? For making you walk away? For making it so hard for you to say no, here and now? 

His eyes slip shut, ready for the final blow. You can see him mentally preparing to depart from your life forever. 

But no. 

No. 

Slipping your hands up, cupping his face with each palm, you lovingly stroke a finger over his damp cheek. At the tender action, JJ forces his eyes open. 

“But I don’t know who I am without you either.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 1

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Part of The Club AU

The lights smear in your vision, music pulsing through your body, senses both dulled and magnified by the alcohol. You sway and rock to the rhythm, like a puppet dancing on unseen strings. You let the night guide you, shrugging off the stress as you let drunken ambivalence take over.

You drain the last of your vodka and tap the plastic cup. You signal to Faye and Heidi that you need a refill, offering to get them one in another gesture. Heida shakes her head, showing her unfinished cooler and Faye gives an eager nod. You wink and whirl away, weaving between the bodies that crowd you.

You leave your empty cup on a random table and hope down the single step from the dance floor. You cross over to the glowing bar and sidle up between two other patrons as you wave to the bartender. It’s busy and the voices of those clustered around the counter nearly overwhelm the bassy music.

You're a bit unsteady, a bit buzzed. You feel good and you want to hold onto that. Forget the world, burn it all.

As you try to get the attention of the burly blonde mixing drinks behind the bar, you’re caught in the crush of the impatient club goers. A man bulls in next to you, keeping his back to you as he forces you close to the stool on your other side. What a dick. Totally oblivious.

You stare at the wide shoulders that stretch the dark fabric of a bomber jacket beneath his short ponytail. Typical.

“Hey, what can I get you?” The bartender taps your arm, still floating above you, forgotten.

“Oh, uh, vodka cran and er… gin and soda,” you holler above the raucous noise.

The man goes to work and you fish around in your wallet for a bill. You should really not be spending all your money like this. You look up and watch him pour the drinks, blond strands coming loose from his low bun. His button-up is undone to the middle of his chest. He must get killer tips. Hmm, bartending might be a good idea for a new gig.

The man beside you shifts on his heel, further smothering you. You keep your arm firm until your elbow jabs in his back. You wish he’d get the fucking hint. Did he just come over here to have a fucking conversation? Go somewhere else.

You pay for the drinks and leave a tip. The blond man grins at you. He’s pretty damn cute but a bit too busy for your liking. You grab the cups and slowly raise them over the lip of the bar. The man to your right turns and his arm hits yours, the vodka exploding across your front. You look down at your shimmery dress and gasp, a spritz of cold liquid up your neck.

“What the hell, dude? Why don’t you watch where you’re fucking going?” You shout and drop the empty cup on the bar, “FUCK!” 

The guy looks at you and scowls. He wipes a spray of alcohol from his sleeve as if you did it on purpose. What the hell is his problem?

“You owe me a drink, jackass," you sneer at the stranger.

His dark hair is drawn back from his face, a scruff of stubble along his chiseled jaw, and bright blue eyes. He's not half-bad on the eyes, if not a total asshole.

“Whatever,” he waves you off as he steps away from the bar.

What? He didn’t even fucking order anything and now you’re covered in wasted vodka! You shake your head and turn back to the bar, once more waving for attention.

“Napkins?” You call out.

It takes a few tries before the bartender gets back to you. He approaches and reaches under the bar, handing over a stack of napkins.

“Everything okay?” He calls over as he works on uncapping a bottle.

“Some guy ran into me,” you roll your eyes.

“Shit, let me make you a new one. No charge.”

“No, it’s fine–”

“No big deal, busy night,” he insists before spinning to grab some smirnoff and some juice.

With your new drink in hand, you carefully back away. You look around before you turn, overly aware of every move and the chaos all around. Maybe you shouldn’t have another drink. Shit is getting real wild.

You make your way back up to the dance floor, balancing your drinks with a considerable effort. Your focus breaks only as you approach Faye and Heidi, handing over the gin before greedily sipping your vodka. Fuck your job and fuck that dude at the bar.

You knock back almost half the drink in a single gulp and fall back into the beat thrumming from the speakers. You spin with your cup held high, sipping as you bop and swing your hips. Your boss ruined your day but no one is going to ruin your night.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 4: Eddie

Word Count: 619/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: bullying, brief violence/Tags: Eddie Munson, Jason Carver, Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, Hawkins High 1985

Divider credit to @silkholland

“Watch it, Freak!”

Eddie Munson winces as he nearly collides with Tommy Hagan. The jock’s muscular form is no match for his scrawny one, and Eddie’s back smashes into the row of lockers. He grips his notebook tight, not willing to let anyone get a glimpse of the song lyrics inside. 

Especially not a jackass like Tommy Hagan. 

Tommy notices the way Eddie quickly draws the book to his chest, his growing smirk holding nothing but malice. “Whatcha got there?”

“Probably his list of potential sacrifices,” Billy Hargrove chimes in, snapping his gum loudly. Eddie’s never been so repulsed by the smell of spearmint in his life. “Do you just do animals? Or humans, too?”

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters under his breath. A hand reaches out and snatches the book from him. It doesn’t belong to Tommy or to Billy.

Jason Carver, a junior on the team and the heir apparent to Billy’s douchebag throne, cracks the book’s spine. “Aww, what do we have here? Love songs?” His cackle has Eddie shrinking into himself.

Tommy peers over his shoulder, reading the lyrics aloud. “Gonna fight every enemy, won’t let them get the best of me…what the fuck is this shit?” His eyes blaze with challenge when he stares at Eddie. “What enemies do you have? Y’know, besides a hairbrush?”

“I think the Freak’s writing songs about us.” Billy presses a hand to his heart. “I’m touched.”

A muscle twitches in Eddie’s jaw. Confirming what they already know would result in instant mortification, and they wouldn’t believe a lie anyway. He opts to stay silent, only grabbing for the notebook.

Tugging it just out of Eddie’s reach, Jason grins at him. “Sometimes I forget that your name isn’t actually ‘Freak.’” 

“Pretty sure it is,” Billy chimes in, “but we can ask his parents–oh, wait. He doesn’t have any. Just that weird-ass uncle.”

Red flashes before Eddie’s eyes. He’s used to the constant barrage of half-witted insults from guys who would certainly peak in high school, but he’ll be damned if they speak ill of Wayne.  

Tommy’s the first one to catch the sudden shift in Eddie’s composure, but he continues holding himself with unfounded confidence. “Guys, be careful–he might get sad and write another mean song about us.” He slips into baby talk, which only makes the others laugh harder.

Already bored with the taunting, Jason flings the notebook back in Eddie’s general direction; it hits the tile floor with an unceremonious thump. “Later, Freak.”

Before he can think better of it, Eddie’s hand shoots out and grabs the collar of Jason’s letterman jacket. The second he wraps his fingers around the fabric, he’s tugging him back with enough force to slam his head against a locker. “My name,” Eddie seethes, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, “is Eddie Munson. Eddie fucking Munson. You got that, jockstrap?”

Jason’s Adam’s apple bobs, filling Eddie with a strange sort of pride. Wielding his newfound courage, he hisses in the junior’s ear, “And if you ever say another fucking word about my uncle, I will personally nail your balls to the gym wall. Got it?”

“F-Fine, whatever.” Embarrassment blooms in Jason’s cheeks and neck, having been bested by Eddie. He wrangles out of Eddie’s grasp and retreats back to his friends, not bothering to even glance back. “Prick.”

Eddie allows himself to breathe, even if just for a moment. Is ‘Prick’ a better nickname than ‘Freak’? Not much, but he’ll take it, if it means shutting them up.

One day, he thinks as he shoves his lyric notebook back under his arm, everyone will know his name. His real name, with no whisper of The Freak attached.

Just him. Eddie Munson.

--

[antianakin]

I don’t know if you’re actually watching the Ahsoka series or not, but I was very curious on your thoughts on the newest episode, and the confrontation between Anakin and Ahsoka.

Bro traumatized her again. Lol. 😒🙃

I’m actually kind of satisfied that she showed a little resentment, but I still don’t like that she didn’t cuss him out or something.

Anakin not apologizing is infuriating at first glance, but I also think it fits his character.

It’s funny, if I think about it in a certain way: I wonder if Anakin himself views his “redemption” kind of the same way his fans do. He’s just like, “Why are you still pissed at me? I died stopping the Emperor, didn’t I?” 🙄

The only one I think he’d actually feel sad about is Leia, because of course he’d want his daughter to like him, but she never will now, because he fucking tortured her and blew up her planet.

You know… I don’t really view Anakin’s final moments as a true “redemption” in the eyes of the galaxy. George Lucas has a quote where he says parents are redeemed in the eyes of their children. I guess you could argue that Anakin redeemed himself in Luke’s eyes, but not the galaxy’s own.

And then there’s Leia, who will never forgive him or think of him as her father.

In a way, it’s almost fitting for Anakin, that each of his children represent something for him.

Luke represents forgiveness, and how it’s never too late to do the right thing.

Leia represents his mistakes and sins. As long as she lives, he’ll always look at her and remember the damage he’s done. She’d never let him forget it.

Which is funny, when going back to the recent Ahsoka episode, and how he was acting like a dick to Ahsoka.

Personally, I think he was purposely trying to piss her off to make her fight to not die.

Still though: he’s such a jackass. 😒

Anyways, I guess my main point is that I don’t view Anakin being a Force Ghost shows that he was “redeemed.” I view it more as a type of salvation. Like the Bible story where Jesus is on the cross with two other men next to him. And then one man decides to “believe in him” or whatever, and his soul is saved by the skin of his teeth.

This is kind of how I view Anakin’s act of saving Luke. His soul was saved, because he did a heel face turn at the last second. So The Force was like, “Good enough, I guess.” *Throws up hands*

Anyways, sorry for the long rambling. I hope you don’t mind the message. Haha. 😅 I just have found your blog really therapeutic, because while I like Anakin as the fascinating character that he is, it still just kills me how fandom woobifies him and blames the Jedi for their own genocide.

I don't mind this message at all, thanks so much for sending so many of your thoughts, this was great! It's going to be a long reply back, though, since there's so much to respond to and if you've been going through my blog, this probably won't surprise you.

I AM watching the Ahsoka show, I'm just putting my thoughts about it on a different blog to this one (this blog was created for me to be negative so I usually only review things on here if I KNOW I'm going to be negative about it, but I was hopeful I'd have positive things to say about the Ahsoka show lol).

I think I'm feeling RELATIVELY mediocre about the show. Like I don't hate the whole thing, I can see why it appeals to people, but it's not really hitting at what I would've wanted from a narrative perspective. It seems to be relying on fan service and pretty visuals rather than genuinely good writing to get them through. If you happen to be the fan being serviced, you probably like it fine. But if you are someone more like me, then you might be noticing that there aren't a lot of stakes, the character motivations are weak or missing, the two storylines aren't being spliced together very well, and the dialogue's just not that great. There's also several more nitpicky things that are really pissing me off about the show (the way they're treating Force sensitivity, Sabine being a Jedi at all for no good reason and how her character is being butchered, the very distant and aloof acting I feel like we're getting from everybody, and of course the requisite anti-Jedi bullshit that we can all expect from Filoni at this point).

But as for how I felt about Anakin and Ahsoka's scenes in the latest episode this week, I am personally of the opinion that it WASN'T Anakin at all. I know it's left ambiguous, so if people feel like it was truly Anakin in some way shape or form, that's fine, but I think it makes more sense to me personally that it wasn't. This is Ahsoka's manifestation of Anakin in a moment where she's literally drowning and emotionally at something of a low point and has to decide if she's going to live or not and that conflict plays out in her head the way we see it. I'm also open to the idea that this is one of those things where the Force "tests" the Jedi not unlike what we see happen on Ilum and Mortis and the Force is just utilizing Anakin's visage to bring Ahsoka's deepest fears out into the open.

What makes it interesting to me is that then we can look at the interactions as THIS IS HOW AHSOKA SEES HIM. Whether she thinks about it that deeply or not, THIS personality is how she remembers him. The immediate choice to be violent with her and test her fighting skills rather than talk to her more gently, the dismissive attitude he has towards her, the flickering back and forth between Anakin and Vader because she doesn't truly know which one he was most. He wasn't necessarily a great teacher and his way of teaching wasn't very Jedi-like, it's ruthless and merciless and unkind, and we see that reflected in their interactions in this episode, which could be a really interesting look at how Ahsoka still remembers him even if she didn't see it negatively at the time.

So him not apologizing isn't like... an indication of how Anakin might actually handle this interaction if it were truly him so much as just... Ahsoka being unsure sure if he WOULD apologize because she has no idea how much of him was Vader the entire time and Vader would clearly never apologize. I think the Anakin we see by the end of ROTJ probably would apologize at SOME point, especially if we're supposed to see him as redeemed and acknowledging/accepting of his sins, etc. But Ahsoka doesn't know that. Ahsoka probably kind-of knows through Luke that he turned back in his last moments, but she wasn't there for that, she didn't get to see it, and she obviously still has no idea what caused him to turn on the Jedi and become a Sith to begin with. Why did he come back for Luke and not her? Was it because she abandoned him? Did he just not care about her the way she thought? Was there something intrinsically wrong with her that he recognized from the beginning?

There's just too much uncertainty perhaps for Ahsoka to know if he'd actually apologize and she doesn't even necessarily need or want an apology so much as she just wants to UNDERSTAND. Because of course it leads into her doubts about HERSELF and whether being his apprentice (even for as short of a time as it was) has somehow influenced her to be more like him and if she should be worried that she'll go dark or cause a student of hers to go dark. If she doesn't know why HE made that choice, how can she trust herself? It's not entirely dissimilar to the statement she made at the end of the Wrong Jedi arc where she claims she's leaving the Jedi because if the Council couldn't trust her then she isn't sure she can trust herself, either. And now with Anakin going dark, she has to wonder if the Council saw something of that in her when no one else did, saw a future for her that she hadn't been able to see for herself yet.

I think personally I'd just rather look at this episode as the closest we're going to get to a "deep dive" into Ahsoka's psyche and character rather than try to analyze it as like "what does this say about Anakin." It's not Anakin's story anymore, it's Ahsoka's. Or it's supposed to be, anyway.

That all being said, I don't think it went far enough and I do dislike that we didn't get to dive into OTHER aspects of Ahsoka via other relationships in order to round out who she actually is. I don't think we know any more about her at the end of the episode than we did at the beginning. I don't think she really grows or changes through the episode at all. I don't know what the whole "choose to live" thing was about or how it connects to her overall arc because while, yes, she's obviously literally drowning in the moment, "choosing to live" is not something they've been exploring as an issue for Ahsoka throughout this season so far, so it didn't feel like this cool end to her character journey so much as just a really shallow one-liner made to sound badass without anything particularly profound behind it.

I think gffa said that one of the things you can tell about this show is that it's been percolating in Filoni's mind for so long that there's things he's leaving out because they're just totally obvious to him now and he's forgotten that the audience won't know some of it without being told or shown. If Ahsoka was depressed or suicidal or something like that, it never came across in the first four episodes. She barely seems to be struggling at all to me, personally. So maybe that's what Filoni wanted us to understand about her, maybe that was the intention, but it just didn't quite make it from his head into the writing or onto the screen.

And I keep going back to the Obi-Wan Kenobi show and the way they handled his character arc. They started him at a really low point where he's so CLEARLY depressed and just moving through life without actually living or finding any way to be happy. They spend so much time showing us how OUT of character Obi-Wan is in order for the pay off by the end and the slow growth of his character throughout the six episode story to feel satisfying. And while he's out of character in his depression, it's done in such a way that that's the POINT. We all know WHY he's out of character, we know what's causing him to be that way, it doesn't need to be explained because it didn't happen off-screen, it's literally the plot of an entire trilogy of films. It felt like a pretty natural extension of the state we last saw him in and it allows him the ability to actually have a journey that makes sense.

We've gotten NONE OF THAT for Ahsoka. Her relationship with Sabine is nonsensical and comes out of nowhere with zero explanation. Her weird thing about Padawans comes out of nowhere with zero explanation. Her aloof attitude is coming out of nowhere and does nothing to help us understand the state of mind she's in. She never seems to be acting SO out of character that it tells the audience how much she's struggling, but she's also SO flat that she no longer feels much like the Ahsoka everyone knew and loved from The Clone Wars. They're inventing new problems for her to have that make no sense instead of giving her a journey to actually deal with the problems she already had and hadn't gotten any resolution for. And they're unable to actually connect her problems from before into the Rebels storyline in a way that makes any real sense or feels genuine and meaningful for either Ahsoka or Sabine, so both storylines are getting half-assed and butchered in the attempt.

Personally, I think Ahsoka should've had a season set closer to ROTJ or even before it, just after she gets off of Malachor and 2-3 years prior to ANH, to explore her immediate reaction to Anakin's betrayal and have her overcome that on her own. Use original characters primarily, throw in Bail Organa or something if needed just to give her a quick plot, but let it be about AHSOKA. And only once her journey to finding herself is complete do we then move on to the Search for Ezra, which should be focusing WAY more on the Rebels characters than we're actually getting and should not involve any of the Rebels characters (except maybe Jacen) learning to be Jedi. Ahsoka would be a side character in this story because she has now had her story told and we can let Sabine and Ezra and Jacen and Hera be at the forefront of the story. (I also think we could've done something with Sabine that wasn't being a Jedi or her entire family being murdered off screen so she has an excuse to do a characterization 180 and act like a bratty teenager all over again.)

If I had to just change THIS episode a little, I have a few alternatives I've been thinking about. For one, I do just think we should've gotten to explore OTHER relationships beyond Anakin to emphasize the other things that Ahsoka is that aren't just "Anakin's Padawan." Rex, Barriss, Plo Koon, even Kanan or Ezra to try to make that connection to Rebels. She's been a friend, a commander, a rebel, a student, a mentor, an ally, a Jedi. She's been so many things that have nothing at all to do with Anakin and I think that might've been nice to explore as well. Yes, Anakin was important. Yes, she's fucked up about it. But that's not ALL THAT SHE IS. So I think starting off with her fears about Anakin is great, but then have her move on and sort-of go through it a little like Charles Dickens' A Christmas Story to show that she's more than this, too. This probably would've worked better if it had been a two parter thing rather than one 30-40 minute episode, depending on how many characters you wanted to throw in.

I also would've appreciated seeing her break and shatter at seeing Anakin. I wanted her to be ANGRY, to refuse to forgive him, to throw his betrayal in face. And then by the end of the episode, she lets it go. She's seen that she doesn't need to hold onto that anymore and it doesn't matter what choices Anakin did or didn't make, she's her own person and can make HER own choices. And so Anakin comes back at the end, and she's no longer angry. She can forgive him. I also would've wanted her to have been more snappy and frustrated and angry earlier in the season, as well, so we can TELL there's something simmering underneath that she's trying to keep repressed until it finally boils over in this episode.

The other alternative I came up with was the OPPOSITE idea where Ahsoka is basically just kind-of... in denial about it. She isn't acknowledging her own anger and pain and betrayal at all and she just wants to spend this time with Anakin the way they used to and Anakin is sitting there provoking her and trying to get her to break so she can let it all out. Eventually he gets her to admit it and get angry and yell at him and acknowledge her own pain finally so she can see how it's impacting her relationships in the present day. She's been trying up until now, but as Yoda's always said, sometimes trying isn't enough, and you just have to do or do not. She doesn't reject him at the end of this, but she can at least acknowledge what he did to her and how it's made her feel. You could even include some of her anti-Jedi bullshit in this and have her justifying Anakin's betrayal by saying the Jedi failed him the way they failed her and Anakin pushing back on that idea so that by the end of the episode, she can recognize that she's been blaming the Jedi because she's been uncomfortable with her inability to understand Anakin's choices and it was easier to blame the Jedi than live with that uncertainty.

I've discussed my feelings on Anakin's redemption a lot and they're definitely not in the majority. Personally, I just don't think he's redeemed at all. My definition of redemption is along the lines of "you can fix/undo the thing you broke/damaged" rather than just... "you decided to stop breaking things even if there's no way to fix it." It doesn't mean Anakin can't keep being a better person if he'd lived, or that he can't find redemption in more specific places (like Luke forgiving him for chopping off his hand), but that there is no redemption for what he did to the Jedi, to the clones, and to the galaxy at large. None. It doesn't matter what he does, it doesn't matter that he stopped himself and Palpatine, it doesn't MATTER. The Jedi and the Republic are still gone, the clones were still enslaved, the galaxy is still in shambles and traumatized from 25 years under the Empire.

You aren't the only one who's chosen to separate your definition of "redemption" from something else to make it make more sense. Someone else went for redemption being different from an absolution wherein you are just immediately forgiven of all of your sins because of one act or whatever, while redemption is the process of doing better. If that works for you, go for it. Personally, I just think Anakin isn't redeemed. He cheat coded his way into being a Ghost and the Ghosts don't make any sense anyway. I think it's definitely intended to represent his redemption IN THE NARRATIVE, like that's the point of the visual, but it just doesn't work for me, so I choose not to see it that way. It's ambiguous enough and the Force Ghost lore confusing enough that it's not that hard.

Your interpretation of Luke and Leia as the two sides of forgiveness is intriguing. I do think Leia could get to the point of forgiveness that basically looks like letting go of her anger because the man's dead anyway so there's no real point staying angry and understanding the history that may have led him to become the monster she knew, but that doesn't mean she has to LIKE him or ever consider him a father.

I think you could kind-of throw Ahsoka and Obi-Wan in there as different reactions to Anakin, too. With Ahsoka as someone who sort-of clings to who Anakin used to be and can't truly reconcile the two versions of him that she knew, and Obi-Wan as someone who rises above. Unlike Leia, he did know and love Anakin, but he is also able to let go of his anger and betrayal and accept Anakin for what he is now rather than pining for someone who no longer exists. And Ahsoka is the opposite of Luke as someone who also knew Anakin and loved him, but struggles a lot MORE with the revelation of who he was and his impact on her life. Everyone approaches Anakin and his relationship to them and his choices in a different way.

I wish the Ahsoka show wanted to explore any of that at all lol.

[aztarion]

oc in 15 (lying)

tagged by @nightwardenminthara thank you cole 🫶🫶 might be obsessed with their gideon after his oc in 15 but lets not get into that 👀 unless..

Rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

**after realizing Deva is not an articulate woman i chose to include other details alongside dialogue to get across her general “same shit different supernatural” scrappy doo-ness and what she gets herself into. these are all bits and pieces from a longfic milk teeth

…

1. “Ten minutes already? Time for a break,” she announces, rising like a phoenix from the chair Felix had similarly abandoned ten minutes prior.

-

2. “Oh, fuck you,” she says, precisely – as precisely as the blood runs rivulets between her teeth.

-

3. “You know there’s going to be complaints to Agency HR about us.”

-

4. Dev throws a mock-salute and opens the passenger door with a deputy cluck. "All forces now protecting our collective ass.”

-

5. The door thuds in its frame again as she arches, hands tugging on his hair. He hums at the pleasant ripple it sends down his spine, even as she demands: “Bed,” in a breathy whisper, with another pull.

-

6. “That's my job, Bobby—debate it, pick at my words, but don't conflate your issues with ours. What you're doing," Detective Deleón scoffs, flicking her finger back-and-forth, "has nothing to do with the case. This is about a dead boy. This is about an order you were given to stay the fuck away and a concession I had to make."

It’s slight, but Nate shifts uncomfortably. Felix, however, looks like he is watching good TV.

-

7. “Lose the shirt.” Her voice is even and demanding — it always is when she wants something, he’s coming to realize. Mason's also been realizing he’s kind of into it.

-

8. “Well.” Deva takes a step back to survey. The trapper’s head is black, misshapen, and greatly reduced, as if shaven away. “That didn’t work.”

-

9. The Mother Deleón looks a little forlorn. The Daughter Deleón wants to say something smart, nonplussed, but her throat is too thick and sour. She keeps her gaze on the volt burn in her jeans. Her palms, hidden safely by the clench of her fingers, throb. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore, mom."

-

10. “You need two for a game of Good Cop/Bad Cop," she says, scowling around a busted lip and a black eye. “So if you’re going to make threats just fucking make them. Don’t waste time pretending to look out for me.”

-

11. Deva pauses suddenly, drawing back a few inches so she can meet his eyes. Her lips press into palpable wickedness. "Make me."

-

12. Mason snorts and lazily rolls his neck to look at the second-in-command. “Just say it looks like shit, Nate.”

“And it smells like ass,” says Deva.

“It does smell like ass,” Felix agrees.

-

13. “No, it’s nothing like that,” she says, then pauses for a beat. “I mean, I don’t know – fuck, maybe it is like that – look I’ll explain later. I’m fine though, but I think – well, um, I think someone’s been here. In my apartment. While I was sleeping.”

-

14. “Kinky.” Deva shoots a jackass grin at Adam. “How medieval of you.”

-

15. “This is as good as you’ll get,” she whispers to the bathroom mirror. The reflection that looks back is merciless, staid — milkiness with a suggestion of something hollow, like a baby tooth.

hehe title reference nudging myself

tagging: @sorceresslodge @devilbrakers @nsewell @saintalessia @dietgabbana @nat-seal-well @serenpedac @swordbards @recents @wetusb @deepinifhell @fauville @agentnatesewell and anyone else w OCs out the wazoo‼️👯‍♀️

TLDR;

[braineater444]

To Be a Princess

Chapter 4

Last/Next

fem!reader x kokonoi/bonten

TW: Disordered eating, Mass murder, Depersonalization, Poor proofreading

A/N: This is pretty heavy because I've been in a rough place recently. Read with discretion.

The last two months have effectively blurred into each other. It’s been all the same. You wake up, Hajime dresses you, and you go nowhere. He leaves and if you’re lucky, Haruchiyo is forced to watch you. If you’re unlucky, you’re cuffed to the bed and stuck in your room all day. 

“Eat this and we can go.” Hajime slides you a decently sized pork cutlet sandwich and you get to work on it without a second thought. 

It hurts your stomach to eat so much after such a long time of eating so little. Your throat is even rejecting it a little. It takes more energy to chew and swallow than you’d anticipated. You definitely should be taking it slower, but you need to get out of this place. You’ve been going stir-crazy. 

At least it’s a really good sandwich. Even if it pains you to eat and give him what he wants, you can appreciate a good piece of meat.

When you’re done, you slide the plate to him, and he kisses your forehead.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

✮✮✮

It’s good that Hajime is letting you tag along today because you’ve started to eat the stuffing in your pillow. Not a lot. Maybe a fistful. A decent fistful every day for about a week. He hasn’t noticed, or if he has, he’s kept his mouth shut. But you try your best to hide it. You re-fluff the pillow you keep pulling down out of and flip it, so the torn side isn’t showing. If you eat any more feathers, you might get sick though, and that’s not ideal. You should be sick, right? If you are, you haven’t noticed.

“So, do you like Haruchiyo?” Hajime asks, not taking his eyes off of the road.

“He’s alright. Weird. But he smells good. I think his teeth are fake.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” It’s a lot to explain. You realized it once when the Haitanis were over. Rindou has charmingly, somewhat crooked teeth and Ran’s teeth are perfect. Sanzu’s teeth are good at passing for real when you don’t look too hard or have anything to compare them to. 

“Not all of them are fake.” Hajime says matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” You rest your head against the window.

“I took him to go get the implants.”

“What? What happened?”

“Ran knocked three of them out. All in the front of his mouth.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean?”

“He does a lot of drugs. His teeth were on their way out, anyway.” Hajime smiles at the thought. “I didn’t want to see him missing so many teeth, though, so I took him to start getting them fixed the next day.”

“Yeah, but why did Ran hit him?”

Hajime shrugs. “There could be several reasons. I think he needed it either way.” He thinks for a second. “I just remember that Haruchiyo came to me with his teeth in his hand and he told me Ran did it. There was so much blood, he kept choking on it when he cried.”

Hajime seems amused by recalling it. He tries to suppress smiles and keep seriousness in his tone, but here and there it sounds like he’s telling you a pleasant dream he had. 

“Why don’t you like him?” You prod. It’s not your business, but in the past months you’ve developed quite the attachment to Haru and while you can see tons of reasons for someone not to like him, Hajime seems deeper than the surface level.

He goes quiet in thought and then starts. 

“He’s a jackass. I know I’m far from being a good person myself, but he takes it to a whole different level. His personality is grating. He doesn’t listen. And while he’s second in charge, it’s only for show. His bullshit falls on me all the time and I’m stuck with work I don’t want.” He clenches his jaw, and his hands tighten around the steering wheel. He seethes, “If being second in command was as simple as sucking Mikey’s dick, anyone could do it.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’d be easier to not hate him if he was incompetent. Okay? But he’s not. He’s very smart, and that��s what gets on my nerves. It’s like he does dumb shit on purpose, and I always have to fix it.”

“Must suck.”

“It does, but it’s fine. I’m going to outlive him.”

✮✮✮

A black-haired man slides up to your open window and starts talking before you can process who he is or what he’s saying. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, uh, they’re in his glove box. The cigarettes. I just need one.” He’s a very polite man. Very handsome too. Even with the scar marking a solid quarter of his face. 

You’ve met him before, right? At the club? Had to be.

“Here.” You hand him the cigarette.

He starts to walk away but stops in his tracks. “You don’t want to get out?”

He’s opening your door and offering you his hand before you can think about it. You take it. How could you not?

“It’s weird that he left you in the car when it’s so hot.” He guides you to where a group of people are standing and talking.

For the first time in the fifteen minutes that you’ve been here, you realize that you’re in the middle of an empty shipping yard.

You look around at all the faces and then turn around to take in the entire scene. A bunch of well-dressed men in an empty shipping yard? What the fuck is going on?

“Calm down.” A friendly voice cuts through all the noise.

Rin. Why?

He checks his phone. “Kakucho, Mikey needs you. Keep your phone on you.” He says to the man that guided you here.

Kakucho walks away.

Something’s not right. Where’s Koko? Why are you here?

“Rin, I want to go home.”

He looks at you as if he’s considering helping you. Your eyes dart around, and you see Takeomi laughing with a man who has severe eyebrows and a goatee. You’ve seen him before. Other men are laughing too, but you’re not acquainted. You should leave.

“Let’s go over here,” Rindou says as he leads you to the side of his SUV where no one can see you.

“What is going on?” You ask plainly. “Why are we here?”

He scratches his head. “We have to kill a couple of people.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

The sun feels hotter. Your palms feel sweatier even through your sheer black gloves. You want to run, but you can’t in these heels, so you walk. Or so you start to walk. Rindou grabs your arm and pushes you right back against the door.

“I can’t. I can’t. Please.” Your nose tingles at the onset of tears. 

“You will be fine.”

“No. I won’t. Rin. Please.”

“Stop fucking crying.” He forces out, irritated. “Do you want something to make you calm down a little? I might be able to find a pill.”

You shake your head.

“Then calm down.”

You try. Your hands smooth over the cotton fabric of your minidress. Once. Twice. Three times. Again, and again and again. But the tears don’t stop. Your head falls to your chest. 

“Fuck.” He grunts. There is a split second where he’s all but throwing you into the backseat. You can feel your dress ride up and you know you flash him and when you’re situated, he looks at his watch as says, “You have about fifteen minutes to cry and then you have to be out there.” Before slamming the door.

You beat at the headrest in front of you and sob. He stands with his back to the door as if nothing is happening. This is why Hajime didn’t put any makeup on you. He saw this coming.

You scream into your hands and the fabric of those sheer polyester gloves burns when it rubs against your eyes. 

You’d give everything not to be you.

The rest of the tears are silent. You lay your head back and just let them fall with the occasional hiccup here and there. There’s no more relief in screaming after it starts to hurt and it never got you anywhere, anyway.

✮✮✮

It’s more people than you’d expected. You count all the way up to twenty-five. Twenty-two grown men in their underwear, heads bowed in shame and their knees pressed to the shipping yard dirt and gravel. One woman and her two kids are in the same position but wearing the clothes they’d go about their daily lives in. Elementary school uniforms and nursing scrubs.

The two kids cry. They’ve done nothing wrong, and they can’t understand what’s going on. 

At least one hundred people are standing around watching this, and you are the only one who seems to feel anything. Rindou has his arm resting over your shoulders and when you look at his face, it’s blank. Ran’s too. 

Kakucho brings in a last man. He’s been beaten. Some of his nails are missing. He limps when he walks. Rindou and his brother titter. Of course they find this is funny. How long has it been since they’ve been full people?

The man bows to the detained before turning his back to them and getting on his knees. There’s a moment of breathlessness before the kids run to be at his side, hugging his half-naked body. They’re screaming and crying and begging their dad to tell them what’s happening. He stays silent. Everyone does.

Twenty-six people in total will die.

Mikey, Haruchiyo and Hajime appear. You can hear every one of their footsteps.

“Apologize to the team you let down.” Hajime isn’t yelling, yet his voice is strikingly clear.

The man yells. “I’m sorry for steering you all wrong and now you have to die because of my mistakes.” He’s shaking. Despite his confident voice, every inch of him is wrought with fear. There’s no denying it.

“Now apologize to them individually,” Hajime commands. The warm wind lifts his hair, and he almost looks like God. Mikey stands silently beside him and Sanzu stalks back and forth between the rows of men with a gun in his hand. You can tell he’s eager to do this. He’s more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. Everyone is.

“Nakamura Touma!” There’s a loud wail at the sound of the name. “I’m sorry!”

Haruchiyo is quick. There’s the sound of a gun being fired, the woman’s scream, and grown men crying.

It’s real. You see the brain matter splatter on to the people nearest to Touma. You watch everyone flinch at the sound. The kids cower into their father. The woman folds in on herself to sob.

You stand in shock.

“Maekawa Yuichi! I’m sorry!”

It’s nothing for Haruchiyo to kill again. It’s just as fast as the last time. He executes the man with a smile. There are no second thoughts or regrets. He just lines his gun up and pulls the trigger.

This time, you’re not frozen in fear. You turn away at the sound of another namel. You’re faced with Ran’s chest and there’s a scuffle between you and both brothers. They force you to turn around.

It’s just in time for Haruchiyo to locate the man and put him to death. 

“Don’t you ever turn your back. It’s bad manners.” Rindou jeers into your ear. 

Your head falls as you start to cry again. Rindou’s hand comes to your hair to force your head back up. You’re met with an unreadable glance from Hajime. 

The bodies fall name after name. Some men pee on themself before being done away with. It’s too cruel for you. You’ve never wanted to live in a world like this.

The numbers whittle down until the man is left with his wife and kids. 

“Say sorry to your family.” Hajime sounds actually angry. The man doesn’t speak. It seems like the impact comes before the actual kick to the head Hajime delivers. The kids scurry away as Koko yells.

“Tell your wife you’re sorry!” He leans into the man’s ear. “Are you deaf?”

“Emiko!” He projects over the shrill screams of his children. “I’m sorry. Our financial troubles are my fault and I should have told you what was going on. I did this behind your back and it’s my fault—“

The sound of Sanzu’s gun going off is its own sick timer. He’s killed the wife before her husband can fully apologize.

Hajime is stoic. Unbothered. The kids’ screaming explodes into something worse. Something indescribable. They’re the type of screeches that claw at your insides and assure you’ll never be well again. 

“Dead or orphaned?” Sanzu shouts to the man. It’s a question that’s impossible to answer.

✮✮✮

The screams have died. Non-executive members clear out. The Haitanis stay right next to you. Your feet are cemented into the earth. They gather around you as if you’re leading them.

Mikey speaks.

“Mochi, find someone to clean this up by tonight.” His voice is low, the wind is louder. He speaks calmly and precisely. “Rindou. Ran. Find the oldest son and ex wife. Kill them.”

They don’t object. They just nod. 

“I’m going home.” Is the last thing he says before turning away. Haruchiyo trails after him.

They all disperse like nothing happened

Ran pets your head before heading to his car. Rindou bumps you with his elbow before leaving, too. 

It’s like nothing happened.

Blood, piss, the salt of your tears, cologne. You can smell it in the air as you’re dragged back into the car. 

Your stomach churns and your mouth feels like it’s full of slime. There’s spit filling your mouth and in place of crying, you vomit. 

It’s stomach acid and that sandwich. You cough and then more stomach acid comes up. Hajime rubs your back as you lean over. All stomach acid comes up the next time. 

You hyperventilate, trying to catch your breath. Spit drips off of your lips. You start to shake and you’re finally able to make a noise for the first time in minutes. 

You let out a caterwaul. It rips itself through your vocal cords and punches out all the air in your body. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Hajime helps you into the passenger seat as you howl. It’s agony.

When he takes his seat you try to speak, but all you can do is let out tortured noises. 

Your hands reach out to grab him and you bawl into his chest. When his hands come up in an effort to comfort you, something snaps.

You’re swinging without thought, and you don’t stop. You hit everything, but you know you mean to hit him. You punch and slap him over and over. Even the steering wheel is a victim of your fury.

For a moment, Hajime is letting you have this. Then there’s a switch where he’s on top of you with his hands around your neck and your heeled feet flailing to kick him.

It’s cramped, and every sound feels as loud as Haruchiyo’s gun.

“Stop.” He speaks gently as he strangles you.

You manage a sound resembling “why?” but you don’t know what you’re asking it for.

What?

His hair drapes like a beautiful curtain around you. You’re running out of air and your fingers are gripping at his wrists. Your dress is up your back. You can’t calm down.

“I said stop.”

You quit flailing. He lets you go. You hack and sit up as he returns to the driver’s seat.

You sob the entire way home.

✮✮✮

“There’s vomit on your dress.” He speaks softly as he unzips you and drops the new dress to the floor.

He slides your gloves off and takes a chance to feel at each of your hands. Next, your bra. He gropes your breasts with fervor. He hasn’t been this rough before a bath, ever.

You can only let it happen. You can see yourself from above as it happens. Your hair is messed up and you’re slouched over like a broken animatronic. You don’t move.

From above, you see him drop to his knees and kiss your stomach. You hear his voice like it’s being played on a shitty speaker.

“I couldn’t think of another way of showing you how well I protect you.”

You see yourself nod.

“You’ve been difficult lately, and I wanted to- I don’t know.” His hands grip at your hips. He puts his forehead against your stomach. “There’s people like that man that would’ve killed you.” He says, muffled.

He looks back up at you with teary eyes. “I’m just trying to keep you safe and I want to take care of you, but—” He searches for the words. “I don’t know how to show you that you’re better here with me.”

Your body nods.

“Please forgive me. I’m sorry.”

He hugs your waist with his face to your stomach.

You stand frozen as you return to your body. 

[kittlesandbugs]

FHR: Just a chat (AO3 link here) Pairing: Sidestep/Ricardo Ortega (hints of Chargentstep), Sidestep & Hollow Ground Warnings: None, they're just chatting lol Word Count: 1720 Summary: Ortega takes Sidestep to the park to get some fresh air after being cooped up with broken legs in his apartment for a couple weeks. When he steps away for a few minutes to take care of something, someone else swings by for a talk.

It's a peaceful day at Memorial Park. The sun is shining through the carefully maintained trees, dappling the green grass. The air is cool and calm, balmy even with your multiple layers. The birds are chirping around you and every so often, a squirrel darts by. The air is full of children's laughter as they play on the jungle gym. People are calm and content around you, enjoying the nice weather. 

You haven’t been this tense since the last time you were hauled into a lab and strapped down. 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," you hiss at Ortega, sitting on the bench next to your wheelchair. 

He's lounging, at ease, though still alert. You see it the way his eyes roam around through the back of his sunglasses, watching everyone and everything around you. "Relax, Riley. Nothing is going to happen here," he chuckles. His hand starts towards your knee to give what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring pat before stopping and redirecting to your arm. You don't like it when anyone touches your casts. "You need some fresh air and sunlight once in a while. You were going crazy in the apartment."

"You could have at least waited for Argent to come over," you growl quietly. "Four eyes are better than two."

"We got four eyes. Hell, four hundred probably, if we count your telepathy." 

"Fine, four working legs." You roll your eyes at the pedantry. 

"We're in broad daylight in the good side of town, no one knows we're here. Relax." 

There's a little note of a plea in there that makes you sigh and nod. He is right, but you aren't going to tell him that. The chances of anyone coming after you in broad daylight on this side of town are almost nonexistent. And if they knew where you were, they would have gone for the significantly easier hit on Ortega's apartment by now. 

So you try. Take in some sun from the sky. Some sun from the carefree kids running past in a game of tag. As good for your brain as dogs, and they're here too. You sink into the padded chair and close your eyes, trying to focus on them rather than the itch of your healing bones that reminds you just how helpless you actually are. 

"Hey, wait here a moment," Ortega says after a few minutes of peace and quiet. You open your eyes to find him perched at the edge of the bench, eyes honed in on something. Your gaze follows but you can't make out who or what he sees at this distance. Are his sunglasses enhancing his vision? Probably, knowing him. You try to follow his line of sight with your telepathy, but what you find that might be getting his attention is strange. Foggy. Nebulous. It's difficult to latch on to any thoughts. Not blocking you like numbers, no, that's closer to the static of Ortega's brain. But someone that is definitely strange. Who is it? 

"Ric, what do you see?" you whisper harshly, the anxiety you felt earlier returning in full force like a hammer strike to your skull as he starts to rise, gesturing with his hand for you to stay put. Like you have a choice

"Just an old friend," he says, the cant of his lips saying the opposite. "I'll be right back. You're safe here."

And then he's off at a swift jog before you can protest, leaving you fumbling for the locked brakes you can't easily reach on the wheelchair handles. 

"Wait! You stupid fucking jackass—" 

"He is, isn't he?" A laugh behind you, and it takes all you have not to scream as a familiar lanky figure folds into Ortega's vacated seat. She's dressed in a finely woven linen jumpsuit, warm sepia with matching leather loafers, her gold piercings sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Her too similar face looks at you with a too similar crooked smile. 

Hollow Ground. 

How the fuck could she sneak up on you like this? You didn't sense her at all. You still can't. Not even so much as a thought void, just nothing. You've never seen anything like it. How is she concealing herself? What the fuck does she want with you? Your chair is still half-locked, trapping you here. Should you scream? Should you—

" Relax," she says, and it's almost a command as she meets your gaze with your own gray eyes. Still, you try to rein in your heart attempting to race its way out of your ribs. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" Your voice betrays the tension tight in your spine, much as you wish otherwise. If one more person tells you to relax, you think you might actually snap. You need to regain control of yourself. You are Reckoning, for fuck's sake. You're not some helpless child. 

"You," she says simply and then pauses. Frowns. Like she's no longer quite sure of what to say. Like she had a plan, but now she doesn't know if it should be executed. 

You try to touch her thoughts again, and again you're met with less than nothing. Are you hallucinating? No. The man walking down the path sees you both. He isn't worried by what he sees, two sisters having a conversation that seems tense. You aren't going to dig into the implications of that one. So she's here. She wants something, wants it enough to approach you about it. You realize the benefit to her closely kept secret identity means she can approach you freely as long as Ortega is not around. The weird presence you felt before, you realize that was Jake, you felt the same nebulousness of his thoughts when you went to meet Hollow Ground at Parkside. Irresistible bait to lure Ortega away. But you have no idea what it is she wants. So you wait. Ortega is right. No one is going to try and do anything in public in broad daylight. She won't, not like this. 

"What about me…?" you prompt when the quiet of her gets to be too much, impatient to find out what this is about with her mind giving you no clues. 

"How… are you?" she asks, surprisingly tentative. 

That reserved inquiry catches you off-guard, but you recover swiftly, her odd nervousness making you feel more confident despite your obvious weakness. "Oh, you know. Peachy. Just out for a stroll," you drawl, gesturing at your propped up casts. 

She snorts and the corner of her lips twitches. Somehow, your snark steadies her. "I should have expected that."

"Why do you care?" you ask sharply. She's being weird, and you don't like it. What is this about? Why would she risk meeting you like this?

"You're a mystery, Riley Owens. I'd hate it if you died before I could solve it." She smirks as you feel your blood run cold. Something about the way she says your name makes you feel jittery. But even more importantly, how could she possibly know who you are? You never gave your name before, to anyone at Parkside, you were there as your villainous alias. Argent scrubbed all records of your surgery at the hospital, though you have no doubt Hollow Ground knew who had been involved in the wreck. How does she know your name? Do the Rangers have a leak? 

As your brain stumbles over what this could mean, she holds out a small white card with something scrawled on it. An address. You recognize the area. Rich and residential. Very rich and residential. Is this… She can't possibly be just handing you this… 

"Got it memorized?" At your nod, she pockets it with a smile that's a little sharp for your liking. 

"What is your g—" 

"Fuck." Her hand shoots up, silencing you as her head tilts slightly like she's listening to something. You can just make out the outline of a small clear low profile receiver in her over-pierced ear. "We lost your pet Ranger, and he's on his way back. I have to go." She rises from the bench with the grace of a crane, giving you a conspiratorial wink.

"Wait, what— Fuck!" You swear, fumbling for the other lock on your chair before she can get away. 

As she strides away, she calls back, "You should stop by sometime, when you're back on your feet. We have a lot to catch up on."  

For someone so tall, she disappears far too easily into crowds. By the time you can roll after her, she's gone, as traceless as she appeared. What the fuck did she mean, catch up on? You're left sitting there, stewing in your own bile, until Ortega finally returns. 

He's sweaty, looking a little tired and roughed up. You think you can see the outline of a bruise blooming under the edge of his bearded cheek. He's definitely been in a fight. You don't know if you should be pleased or pissed that he learned to leave civilians behind for these kinds of escapades after his stunt with Jolene went awry. "Hey," he says with a little wave as he catches his breath. "Everything okay?"

 "Just dandy," you snarl, playing into being pissed that he left you. If he knew who just stopped by to pay you a friendly chat, he'd shit his own generator. "Sitting like a duck while you go haring off to go fight some rando."

Luckily, you think he's getting the right message, because he holds his hands up, placating, as he talks to you in the same tone he uses with his unruly horse at the ranch. "Hey, c'mon. I was just gone a few minutes. Nothing happened, right?" 

"Yeah," you lie with a sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "Nothing happened."

He grabs onto the handlebars of your chair, and if he notices you've unlocked it, he doesn't comment on it as he starts walking you through the park. "Angie texted me about meeting us at the ice cream stand. You want to get some ice cream before we go home?" 

"Yeah." Sugar will help steady your nerves. Get your mind off what just happened. “Let’s get some ice cream and go home.”

You have a lot of thinking to do later.

[toopimpabutterfly]

making my INTRO!!!!! or this is my intro. ykykyk. (meet my shitty way of designing intros and stuff too,)

HIHI call me Jésus I'm 16 Apache Mexican American. With some other stuff cause yeah. just mentioning that cause. I will say a lot of stuff yk. I'm autistic and scitzohenic but PLEASEEEE I NEED FRIENDS and PEOPLE TO talk to about my current interests!!!

MOVIES

Oh to go. on ABOUT THIS.. here's my letterboxd I fucking love movies.

DOGMA, MOONLIGHT, CLERKS, NATURAL BORN KILLERS, GOOD WILL HUNTING, FIGHT CLUB, NAKED LUNCH, FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS, CONSTANTINE, HELLBBOY, GUMMO, MAD MAX + FURIOSA, GODZILLA, I SAW THE TV GLOW, AVATAR, JACKASS, MID 90S, STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON, I LOVE YOU PHILIP MORRIS, WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S, FRIDAY, THE MATRIX, JAY AND SILENT BOB STRIKE BACK, THIRTEEN, REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, TRAINSPOTTING, THE PEOPLE VS LARRY FLYNT, DUCK TILL DAWN, THE WATERMELON WOMAN, DONT BE A MENACE TO SOUTH CENTRAL, BOYZ IN THE HOOD, 12 MONKEYS, MENACE II SOCIETY, WATCHMEN,MALL RATS, KIDS and a lot more.. coughs.

TV SHOWS

PREACHER, THE BOYS, THE MAXX, ÆON FLUX, THE BOONDOCKS, LOITER SQUAD, CLERKS ANIMATED, AQUA TEEN HUNGER FORCE, BOJACK HORSEMAN, BEVIS AND BUTTHEAD, JACKASS THE SERIES, SMILING FRIENDS, THE ERIC ANDRE SHOW, FUTURAMA, KING OF THE HILL, MORAL OREL, BLACK DYNAMITE, HOME MOVIES, SPACE GHOST COAST TO COAST, THE OBLONGS, and more stuff again. Assume that a lot tbh.

MUSIC

THE BUTTHOLE SURFERS, KENDRICK LAMAR, ICE CUBE, N.W.A, BLACK FLAG, DEAD KENNEDY'S, LEONARD COHEN, NINE INCH NAILS, OUTKAST, TYLER, THE CREATOR, NAS, DR DRE, BONE THUGZ, QUASIMOTO, EAZY-E, KMFDM, ALEX G, WEEN, CHEMLAB, JANE'S ADDICTION, GERMS, ANGRY SAMOANS, NEW ORDER, JOY DIVISION, COWBOY JUNKIES, JESUS LOVES JUNKIES, PIXIES, DINOSAUR JR, HOOTIE AND THE BLOWFISH, THE VELVET UNDERGROUND, THE DEAD MILKMEN, NECROS, CIRCLE JERKS, HOLE, and a lot more. I love hardcore punk, crust, hip-hop, rap, and basically everything tbh.

MISC + FIXATIONS

I love comics like the Punisher, The Maxx, Preacher, Bratpack, the clerk's comic, Watchmen,little things. I like reading, TOO . I LOVE HUNTER S THOMPSON!!! Mostly Fear and Loathing in las Vegas, Hell's Angels, and the Campaign Trail 72, and other books like Revolt of the Cockroach People, Get in The Van. Little books like that sorta. GAMES TOO I like Faith the unholy Trinity, DOOM, POSTAL, GTA, DUSK, and a few others!

I collect DVDS, games, VHS tapes, books, CDs, records, laser discs, literally any piece of physical media . All of it. I like conspiracy theories, civil rights activists, some art history, Malcolm X. I'm a punk I go to local shows and stuff and might sometimes post that when I can. I have a HUGEEE fixation rn on Dogma(1999) and Kendrick Lamar. But I heavily enjoy the viewaskew universe rn and want to interact with more of the little fandom please... my dad got me into the movies and we watched them all together n stuff. I do powerlifting as a hobby and like to go on walks around my town and say nonsense please interact. I will post whatever I want here really tbh.. BYE.

[spacepiratenemo]

Hello! My Name is Nemo! Welcome to Jackass!

MEME-TIME! MUHAHHA! 😂💯👾

Lol, this was "supposed to be quick, easy and literally just a meme" and now it took nearly a week and drove me nuts 3.14 times XD 😂

I had this in mind for ages and pushed it to the back of the shedule all the damn time, now it's finally done. *20th century fox proudly presents* Nemo being grounded! 😂

Two weeks of kitchen service is way too nice for all the non-sense and chaos she caused on board - and of course she just gotta provoke, eh? Push one button and BANANABEARD CAN GLOW WITH LED LIGHTS! ISN'T IT BOOTIFUL???! 😂😂😂

I'm surprised Pops didn't throw this girl over board a single time... XD

Anyways, hope this short memetic content amuses you as it amused me! XD Which punishment do you think Nemo deserves? How long would you ground her for? How many dishes would you let her wash? ><

LOL

Nemo loves to prank others! From glueing Pops to his seat, to putting chilli into Marco's pineapples - everything is possible! And since she is a horrible influence regarding this on Ace, he often tags along with her shenenigans! In a nutshell, so far in the story they pulled off:

Roasting a Seaking with an alien-weapon

Spilling glitter everywhere

Using yellow paint to make Pops mustache become banana

Glue Pops to his throne

Make Blamenco smell his own feet

Let Deuce run in a circle for one hour to find his mask

Hide Vista's hair-care products and let him suffer to find out

Fireworks ala Firecracker!

See if you can cook faster than the oven! (Faster apparently does not imply better...)

Use watermelon-seeds as ammunition against everyone!

Make Haruta admit to his love for rubber duckies

Find out who Jozu's secret crush is

Arrange a date between Whitey Bay and Izou, don't tell either of them though!

Surprise everyone with a loud, cheerful party at 3 AM for a whole week!

Sulk at the Crew when 3 AM parties are suddenly forbidden.

Make the sulking as dramatic as possible and pretend to die.

Shock the Crew by jumping into the sea and let them believe we drowned!

Jumpscare them all with a trumpet.

Make them fear the trumpet.

Make them wish the trumpet was a nightmare that would end.

Place fart-pillows everywhere.

Tag "Kick me!" pictures to everyone's back.

Make the world believe aliens exist.

Fake an alien invasion.

Make headlines!

Use narcolepsy as an excuse for literally everything fifty times in a row.

Make them believe you don't understand socialising.

Put too much wasabi into all beers.

Sew Marco a feather-dress.

Put eggs into Marco's bed every day.

Ask Marco if he's already a chicken-daddy every day.

Test: How long and how intense can you annoy Marco until he fries?

Will he taste like chicken when he fries?

Force everyone to do maths!

Put the alpahbet into the maths once they think they're safe.

Let Ace believe he is safe from the maths, but then make him do maths anyway.

Make everyone be scared of numbers!

Make everyone scared of numbers and letters in combination!

Put hidden numbers everywhere to cause paranoia.

Replace Satan.

Paint Pops a pretty make-up while he sleeps.

Also do his fingernails.

Put a bow on him.

Make Namur believe he might be an alien as well

Make everyone believe they're aliens

Establish a conspiracy and laugh about the idiots who believe it

Fake a UFO crash

Fake found-footage of alien abducting pirates to cause global panic.

Shoot confetti-rockets at Mariejois and make them beliebe it was the Marines.

Estabilish A.M.A.B as a Slogan: "All. Marines. Are. Bastards!"

Create hundreds of robots, fake loss of control and prank'em by thinking A.I enslaves mankind.

Clone coconuts.

Clone a huge amount of coconuts.

Establish coconut as super fruit and throw them at everyone who disagrees with you.

Polish Jozu to make him Shiny-Jozu.

Make Blenheim believe Fossa has a crush on him.

Watch chaos unfold.

Mess with the cacti-juice.

And so much more...

... to be continued!

[witchy1life]

ATLEY HEADCANONS

OR IF YOU'RE UNFAMILIAR, ATLANTA x HERRY

I'm bored, it's almost 3 AM, and they're rotting my brain; some of these were brought to you by the COTT discord server.

STARTING US OFF

` Dumb jock who doesn't know his strength x Mean athlete who reminds him

` "I might hurt her, I need to be gentle." "I'm not made of glass jackass, kiss me." relationship

` He kisses her bruises after every fight, she calls him sappy but secretly loves it.

` Extremely gentle due to the vast size difference, always shows her affection so sweet and easy that it can be compared to that of a new owner and a baby kitten

` Their dates consist of going on runs, exercising, training, and fast food.

` Holds Atlanta on his shoulders at any given chance, she rests her arms on his head and her head on both; sometimes naps there and Henry won't move a single muscle

` Herry is the groups medic however will only ever treat Atlanta first if it's not a dire situation, if they all got some scrapes and bruises however he checks on her first. "Did I bump you too hard? I'm sorry babe.." "YOU TOOK A LEFT HOOK TO THE JAW FOR ME, I AM MORE THAN FINE."

` He does everything for her, carries her bags, her books, and her equipment. She tries to do it herself and tells him that she can but he just shakes his head and takes it back from her.

` Buys her 7 balloons for the Valentine's day grams, the limit is 5 but Herry can be pretty threatening if he wants to.

` Atlanta isn't a big pda girl, small kisses, short hand holding, hugs, and that's about it. But at home especially at night she wears one of his old shirts, some sleep shorts, and face plants his chest to go to bed at night. Only Neil knows this, she holds his mirror hostage because of it.

` Atlanta is scared of thunderstorms due to one killing her mother in a freak accident (This will be explained in another post), so whenever a storm rolls around Herry gathers all the blankets and pillows accessible to him, lets her hide in his chest when loud cracks or booms fill the sky, and plays his TV on 50% volume; pretending he doesn't hear her whimpers or feels tear stains on his shirt, just hugs her closer to him and rubs soothing little circles into her back.

` Big gentle boyfriend, small angry girlfriend.

` He plays with her hair on the weekends they get to sleep in.

` Didn't tell the others they were dating until a few months went by and they got caught kissing in Atlanta's room.

` Introduced Atlanta to Granny as his girlfriend and she instantly started referring to Atty as "My girl" or "My Atlanta" and saying things such as "My little Atlanta is the perfect lady for my grandson, keeps him safe.. Yes, I do love them both."

` Watches shitty romcoms and cackles like witches before mimicking them while giggling and choking on popcorn.

` The couple ever

` Carries her around at the wild life saftey protests, screams the loudest during the deforestation prevention rallies.

` Rough houses on days Herry isn't self conscious about hurting her, not afraid to chase each other through the rain and fall in puddles.

` She helps around on the farm, drives places for granny, the only person allowed to drive Herry's truck off mission,

` Atlanta loves when he calls her Atty or His lightning bolt, often refers to him in private as Her warrior

` Herry will drop everything to help Atlanta, especially if she's injured or worse.

` He's like a natural heater, so cuddles early in the morning are mandatory before they start any classes / training.

` Will find ways to sneak away from their mentors to walk through Athena's garden.

` Atlanta jokingly tells him he should do the Atalanta's footrace to win her heart, he takes it serious and actually trains to do it still to this day.

` Although Atlanta is a vegetarian/vegan, Herry still loves taking her out to meat themed restaurants (He never forces her to buy any meat, often pointing out which are vegan safe options on the menu.)

` Messy rooms, both of them, they play MK and the loser has to clean up both rooms. (They end up just helping whoever loses anyways.)

` The type of girlfriend to cover her boyfriend's eyes when she's losing in a video game.

` His lap is like a second seat to her, she casually sits in it whenever without realizing.

` Loves to prank the others together.

` Atlanta was scared of a relationship at first, but over time Herry carefully introduced the aspects of it to her; taking his time to let her adjust which she was grateful for.

` Cuts her hair for her so she doesn't have that spikey fuck ass bob.

` Get a puppy together and name him Zeus so that they can mess with the god.

` Talks to Theresa and Jay for advice but realizes their friends relationships aren't too stable and stop doing it.

THAT'S ALL FOLKS, HAVE A LOVELY NIGHT

[zillyeh]

From the Cracks

companion piece to this one

Characters: Zipper Anthem, Castel Baclef

The near open walls of the Serpent’s Hands breezy cathedral let in every sound from the Old North. The repairs that had been done over the sweeps were never structurally sound enough to keep out the elements. It seemed like this time the ON was really putting in some effort, though. They had the funds and manpower for it now. Crumbled walls had real supports jutting out from the top, reaching past where there once may have been stained glass windows to touch the well abused roof.

At the base of the construction, looking far too long and gangly on the floor, squatted a purpleblood. The old drone-brick that still stood strong behind the pulpit interested him, much to the chagrin of the Undertaker.

She thought she was doing enough for him- keeping his uppity little south city bakery from getting Smiles branded bricks through his window- but no. His little bestie twisted her arm with another bribe to let him up here. In her church. 

If money weren't such a problem she never would have entertained this.

"Have you found what you're looking for yet or what?" Undertaker Anthem demanded, her voice rough and annoyed through her mask. Castel flinched at the sound of her voice, but let out a gentle hum in response.

"I may be getting close," he said, leafing through his old, battered book. "It is supposed to be low enough for the damage not to have reached…" The lilt of an Enfaris accent kissed the edges of his words, making Zippie grimace more. Clowns. He lacked the paint, but that didn’t matter. It couldn't. She couldn't afford to not be on edge.

"You could always help," he continued, "It might be-"

"No. I'm staying parked right here." For all her posturing and glares, her voice nearly gave way to the fear underlining her behavior. 

"Relax your shoulders, then." 

"Excuse me?"

"I feel your tension from here," he said with a flippant wave of his hand. "Even if I did bite, my teeth are rather flat, no?"

When she didn't respond, he turned. He flinched once more, struck by one of the daggers she was glaring into his head. He huffed, making some show of not looking away, pretending she wasn't scary. She was. Even seeing past the hardness in her silvery eyes- to her exhaustion- didn't change that.

Castel tilted his head curiously, fixated on her for a moment,  before shaking his head back to the bricks.

“It’s a spiral of names,” he started as if she’d asked. “Small, barely meant to be noticeable. Etched with an errant piece of metal off of one of my ancestors’ companions’ hands.”

Ancestors. The ones that truly existed were nothing but trouble. Bessba’s? Jackass. This guy’s? Forcing him into her church to look for more clues about his silly little existence. Those who could trace their lines like that- who knew that someone specific was responsible for them- were just so…

Annoying.

He traced his long, skinny fingers along the brick, continuing to talk to her (or himself, it was hard to tell) as he scooted further down the wall.

“It's supposed to be at about sitting height, thank goodness. It would be helpful if these walls weren't so dusty, but who am I to- oh!”

Castel's sudden noise and spring to action made Zippie jump. The purple grabbed a brush from his pocket, enthusiastically sweeping at a cracked brick near the middle of the wall. Zippie clenched her teeth, watching him with something beginning to approach curiosity. Some dusty graffiti was that exciting?

“Find what you're looking for, finally?” Zippie asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Shush- I mean yes, sorry, I just don't want the integrity of the brick to be compromised. Oh look at that, that must be all of them…” It sounded like he found what he was looking for. As much as she didn't want to turn her back to him, she had other things to do. He'd be done soon enough. Zippie turned back to her pulpit as he talked to himself, sketching in his notebook.

“Baclef of course, Payark, Sclera, Humera… Goz…. jam or is that silent? H sound maybe, Aarika-”

 Castel’s mumbling suddenly felt like a brick to the back of the head. For a moment she thought she misheard him, but the goosebumps on her arms were too solid for that to be the case.

“What did you just say?” she asked lowly, dangerously. She did not turn to face him.

“...Aarika? Sorry, I know I shouldn't speak that name too loud, but-”

“Before that.”

“Oh! Goz-Gozjam?” The sitting purple adjusted his glasses on his long broad nose. “Am I pronouncing that incorrectly?”

“No, you're not,” Zippie said before she could stop herself.

“Okay!” he said cheerily. He then paused and looked to the Undertaker, who'd turned to face him. The purple's fear of her had been overridden with curiosity. He looked at her, really looked at her and said:

“Your eyes… your pupils are teardrop shaped.” Given his tone, that meant something to him. Zippie hissed lowly behind her mask, straightening her posture further. He flipped through one of the weathered old journals he brought with him, but didn't look like he was reading it as he continued.

“‘It's a funny thing, seeing Gozjam with her eyes uncovered. Rare a sight as it is. So many of us have heavy eyes, it's the nature of our species, but the droop of her lids and the shape of her pupils truly ice the cake of her melancholy. Were she anyone else, I'd only call them droplets- but with her? To refer to them as anything but tear drops would do a poetic disservice to her character.’”

“Stop it,” Zippie ordered as he took in another breath to speak. He stubbornly opened his mouth again.

“‘It's a shame she has to hide them, and the unfortunate rest of her face. She is more lovely than-”

“I said enough,” she snarled this time. She felt something dangerous under her skin. Electric. Defensive. “Are you done over there? Did you get what you wanted? I didn't say you could be here all night.” He paid her bristling no mind, fully facing her on his knees. Examining her from his distance away. Seeing her.

“You don’t even know, do you?” There was something soft to his voice that made her want to punch him. “Anthem, my intention is not to distress you, but-”

“You’re failing, Baclef. I think it’s time for you to go.” It didn’t sound like she’d take arguing well. He sighed, glanced back at the wall, and began to stand. In that same instance, something dawned on her that turned her blood to ice- and her behavior violent. She tugged him up by the collar while he was still knelt down. Her eyes were wide now, showing off the entirety of those teardrops.

“What else does it say about her in those books of yours?” she asked with a panic that didn’t suit her. The rasp in her voice was more prevalent when she raised her voice like that, making her all the more terrifying. Castel stammered. He was unused to being roughhoused, even more so at this angle.

“N-nothing, they were friends that’s-”

“Physically,” she growled, shaking him again. He let out an honest-to-Messiahs eep. 

“He didn’t- tall? Skinny, robot arms-” Another shake interrupted him. He frantically searched his memory for the correct answer. When he looked her in her eyes, damaged red sclera and silvery pupils above a tight leather mask, it clicked.

“Oh, oh- nothing, nothing. I swear on my life he never described her past shape. It was a secret that he kept until they destroyed this place. I always thought it was rather obvious, since- ah!” 

Zipper shoved him back, looking like a snake about to strike. Castel dusted himself off, scrambling back towards the wall as she approached. Unbidden sparks lit up the rivets at the back of her neck, letting off small, ribbon-like bursts of electricity.

“I could be wrong?” he offered, clearly wishing he was less motor mouthed. “I could be way off. It doesn’t matter. Even if I knew I wouldn’t- I couldn’t. For the obvious wrong it would be of course, but-”

“But?” she said through clearly clenched teeth behind that zipper. Her sparking wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t stopping.

“...Our ancestors were friends.”

That stopped her in her tracks. The Undertaker swayed on her boots, clenching and unclenching of her fists without taking her eyes off of the heap of giant purpleblood on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of my church,” she said, something almost airy about her tone this time. The shift startled him enough to grab his things in one swift motion.

“Yes ma’am. Sir. I’m- I’m sorry.” Castel scrambled to his feet, still making her wince when he was drawn to his full height. He nearly dropped his books in his haste to leave.

“I’ll have, um, our mutual contact compensate for the trouble,” he called back as he strode towards the doors. “I really am-” He stumbled a bit over a piece of rubble that hadn’t been moved yet, making more of a show of leaving than this already was. 

Zippie stayed unmoving where he left her, staring at that corner of wall. The slam of the church doors woke her back up, and with a shake of her head she said:

“Annoying.”

[cpacs-blog]

I Never Told You

An angsty af Petruo short-fic

Eld is sweaty and gray. He smells awful… like dirt and iron and rot, and this entire stupid hospital smells the same. Petra forces herself to sit close and to not throw up.

“You don’t have to speak,” she says quietly to him. She’s quiet because she doesn’t want to wake Eld’s nameless roommate behind the curtain, but that scout is dead already so it doesn’t really matter. “You’re healing. You don’t have to entertain me. You can rest.”

Rest… that’s selfishly the last thing she wants for her good friend. Eld’s serrated leg and his decimated arm are weeping blood and gathering infection and flies in this humid hell, but she can’t let him go just yet. If he rests, he might rest forever and that is unacceptable. She can’t bear his suffering but she can’t bear his loss either. She won’t get to choose.

He speaks, mouth gummy and slow. “-Y-You?”

“Me.” She holds his hand through her splints. “Broken arm. Broken wrists. Broken ribs. But I’m fine. It will heal.”

Eld surveys her and sees it is all true, she is broken, but she is still in one piece which is more than he can claim for himself. “Th- the others?”

“Eren’s safe.” That nosy, insolent shit. “We did it, Eld,” she beams. “We kept him alive. He can still fix the wall. Levi is fine too. And, well, Gunther…” She can’t pretend. They all saw it… Gunther’s swinging body, exsanguinating a faucet of blood. Eld’s delirious, but not to the point of true stupidity yet so she knows she can’t deny the obvious. “We cut him down and brought him back,” she reports instead. “He’s home. His grandparents have him now.”

“Quick? It was quick?”

“It was quick,” she assures.

He is only a little mollified and he tries not to think too much about it. “Ruo?”

Petra smiles, heart bursting. “He made it, Eld. He’s okay. He’s downstairs. He’s still a jackass.”

Good. That idiot annoyed Eld beyond what he thought was possible and yet Eld loved him completely. “Did he tell you?”

Petra squeezes Eld’s hand tight, fierce. “Yes. He did. He told me everything.”

Eld’s mouth lifts and he finally feels peace settle in his minced bones. “Thank god. I’ve been asking him to for years.”

~~~

The last thing she truly hears is Eld crashing to the ground in several pieces. He crumples and breaks; his limbs leave a gingerbread trail to his hemorrhaging body.

And Petra- young, idealistic, spritely Petra- is left to contend with a wash of adrenaline that freezes every muscle in her exhausted shell. She is in thin air but somehow underwater as sound and light delay their path to her senses. She watches the giant move towards her but she is a spectator outside her body, frozen and doomed.

So she doesn’t see or hear it. All she knows is she was middair and in the way for one heartbeat, then cartwheeling off course to safety the next. The moss receives her fall but she hits the ground hard enough it feels like cobblestone. Her arm is at an odd angle with the bone tenting her translucent skin. Her mouth pools with metallic blood.

Distantly, one explosion rocks the trees, then two titans. Goddammit, Eren. Petra rolls herself to look at the perfect blue sky and tries to tame her thundering heart. She is alive. She was in the way, but now she is alive.

He is too far away to properly see, kicked and painted across the forest trees. So she never sees him again, never hears his sarcastic and wry humor, his poorly concealed insecurities. He is gone from her, and she would lie to her last dying friend in the hospital a week later because they never brought the dead home. The cart never came; they left them where they lay. So she never sees or hears from him again, but she has the bruise of his handprint on her back that tells her everything she needs to know.

~~~

Eld dies before the oil lamp does. His fever breaks him and he sweats so much, Petra is sure he is deflating in front of her. It’s not noble or heroic: he weeps, thrashes, and relieves himself as his story closes around him. She sits and holds his hand until the end and covers him with a white sheet before she leaves the room.

Author’s note: thanks for reading my fic! I am procrastinating on real work and loooovvveee imagining/writing the angstiest, most emo shit imaginable when I’m tired. I hate that the og squad is dead: they would’ve been so cool to see develop in the later seasons. But as a hoe for unrequited love stories and someone who loves putting her favorite characters through hell for sport, I had to do this.

[rainbowfey]

Day 1: Magic

This is written for @madatobiweek.

Madara shielded his face with his arm while hurrying along a dimly lit street, the ice-cold rain piercing the sleeve of his jacket like a myriad of tiny needles. He growled when his foot slipped in yet another puddle, almost sending him to the ground. He barely managed to keep his balance but he felt the water soak through his shoe, feeling like as if his foot was only seconds away from turning into an ice cube. Madara cursed under his breath and quickened his pace even more, sending a hint of chakra into his feet so that he wouldn’t stumble again. The sky had already looked rather dark when he had entered the training ground but he hadn’t expected a downpour like the world was about to end. Wind was howling through the empty streets of Konoha, rustling the trees between the houses aggressively until they were swaying like monsters preparing to attack.

Madara shook his head and ducked when he heard yet another loud crack, followed by a thud when the broken branch hit the ground only a couple steps away from him. If the storm decided to rage even a bit more furiously, falling branches wouldn’t be the only thing Madara had to worry about. He risked a peek at the closest roof from under his arm but he didn’t see any shingles trembling just yet. He sighed and rushed around a corner – when he suddenly hit something big. With a muffled yelp, someone stumbled backwards while Madara desperately tried to keep his footing. When he had caught his balance again, he angrily looked at the person who was straightening their clothes where they had bumped into each other. The other person looked up and Madara felt a wave of contempt washing over him when he noticed the red markings on a pale face.

“You,” he hissed without thinking, his eyes narrowing at the unwelcome sight.

Tobirama Senju’s face twisted with repulsion when he recognized who he had run into. “Ah,” he said in a voice that sounded like as if he had stepped into something particularly gross. “Madara.”

Madara felt his anger grow at this disrespectful tone. Out of all the people that lived in this village, of course the only other one outside in the rain was the most insufferable person imaginable. “You should better watch where you’re going,” he growled, staring at Tobirama. “Or else you might one day have an … accident.”

Tobirama furrowed an eyebrow and looked up at him with undisguised scorn. “As if you stood any chance against me,” he spit out, a sardonic smile playing around his lips. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I get scared of a jackass like you.”

Madara clenched his fists. The only thing keeping him from bashing Tobirama’s head in was the fact that it would be hard to explain to Hashirama why he had murdered his brother. Especially since Hashirama was the Hokage and probably wouldn’t take it easy if he followed through with his fury. Instead, he forced an unfazed expression to his face and stared at Tobirama unblinkingly. “This doesn’t mean much from a person who’s too stupid to know what’s good for him,” he said calmly while raging internally. “Just you wait, Senju.”

Tobirama shrugged, his eyes full of disgust. “Go spew your bullshit somewhere else, Madara. Maybe you’ll find someone who’s willing to listen to your stammer.”

And before Madara could come up with an appropriate retribution, Tobirama had already walked past him, boldly jostling him in the process. Madara’s hand darted to his pocket which was filled with shuriken but he stopped himself just in time. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tobirama’s ghost like figure disappearing behind the corner he had just turned.

It took Madara a moment to collect himself again. His whole body felt like it had been set ablaze and he gritted his teeth, Tobirama’s scornful smile still fully present in his mind. He didn’t even remember when or how their feud had started but what he did know was that each of their encounters brought him closer to ambushing Tobirama and giving him the whipping he deserved. Over the past couple of months, they had had a handful of fights disguised as training sessions and each of them had only fueled Madara’s disdain for him even more. Tobirama was not only an insufferable person but he was also keen on playing foul, gloating over his own strength whenever one of his insidious strategies had worked. But the worst of it all was Tobirama’s contemptuous smile whenever he thought he had the upper hand.

Madara clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his skin. Only when he felt the sharp pain, he forcefully released his grip. This prick wasn’t worth the air he was breathing – and standing in the rain fuming also didn’t bring him closer to his own place. Thus, he set himself in motion again, heading for his place with big, aggressive steps. The rain kept coming down hard, washing against his body like a surge of icy water and a shiver ran down his spine. It was about time that he got home and changed into some dry clothes.

Madara tried to banish the thoughts about his fiend from his mind and fixed his gaze on the hazy shadow of a house at the end of the street. He would’ve recognized its silhouette everywhere. Like a silent threat, his house loomed over the other buildings of the street, its dark color seeming to devour all of the twilight that was left around it until it appeared to be a bottomless shadow. Madara smiled at the thought and he finally felt some of his tension fade away. When he was halfway there, he broke into a sprint, dashing through the heavy rainfall, water splashing from the puddles he stepped into. The closer he got to his place, the more it felt like as if the rain started pouring even worse, almost like as if someone or rather something wanted to quicken his steps, chasing him away from the outsides, luring him to the supposed safety of his home in the process.

Madara shook his head at this menacing thought and jumped over an enormous puddle right in front of his house. He climbed the slippery steps and already fumbled for his keys, when he noticed something strange. His doorstep was still dry, protected by the meager porch roof that barely even covered the steps. But in this small dry spot lay a narrow wooden box. Madara paused and stared at it. It was rather flat and not much bigger than the palm of his hand. The wood was entirely untouched by the rain but the tiny hinges seemed worn. He could see hints of silver between the scratches and tears and he was fairly sure that this box hadn’t been here when he had left his house earlier that day. He glanced at the empty, now almost entirely dark street but he couldn’t make out any movement or trace of someone having been there.

A sudden gust of wind made him shudder and he shrugged. He would surely find out eventually who left the box there. Madara grabbed the wooden box and noticed absentmindedly that it felt surprisingly heavy when he finally fumbled his keys out of pocket and unlocked his front door. He stepped over the threshold and for a moment, his body started trembling. A bit confused he paused but after a moment he concluded that it must have been due to the warmth of his house engulfing him and driving off the unhospitable weather behind him. With another shrug, he closed the door behind him and set the wooden box down on a cupboard next to his coatrack. With cold, stiff fingers he pried his jacket open and slipped out of it. Next were his shoes that he carelessly shoved into a corner where they would slowly dry without making a mess.

He sighed in relief when he had finally gotten rid of his wet clothes but he quickly noticed that his sweater and pants also felt rather damp. With an annoyed grown, he went up the stairs and grabbed a dry change of clothes, quickly putting them on and throwing his damp clothes into the hamper in his bathroom. Afterwards, he walked down the stairs, feeling a lot more comfortable now. He was about to head for his kitchen when he caught a glimpse of the wooden box that forlornly sat on his cupboard. Now that he wasn’t out in the pouring rain anymore, the box started to pique his interest. It was fairly odd for him to find something on his doorstep that he hadn’t known about before. Sure enough, sometimes Hashirama made a joke out of sending him random stuff but this didn’t seem to be the case this time since Hashirama had been on an extended mission for almost a week now. This did pose the question who had left it for him to find – and why.

Madara carefully lifted the box and this time he noticed how heavy it felt. If he had closed his eyes, he would have thought he had just picked up a flat stone, not a wooden box. His curiosity grew and he decided that the kitchen could wait. Instead, he carried the box to his living room and sat down on his sofa, the box in his lap. He switched on the lamp that sat next to his sofa and examined the box thoroughly. Now that he was out of the rain, he noticed the fine cut of the box. Its edges were soft, almost like as if countless hands had wandered over them. He noticed that the box didn’t have a lock and when he carefully lifted the lid, the box opened with a faint clicking sound.

Madara’s eyes widened when the lid revealed black velvet that filled the wooden box. He carefully grabbed one edge of the velvet and tugged at it. To his surprise, it gave way immediately – revealing a brilliant silver amulet. Madara held his breath and marveled at the delicate ornaments which formed a wheel around an obsidian in the middle of the amulet. Everything around him seemed to fade away when he examined the amulet, mesmerized by its beauty. The obsidian attracted his gaze and he leaned over it, staring into the black abyss that seemed to deepen with every second he looked at it. But somewhere deep down, seemingly at the bottom of it, he noticed a faint light. Madara leaned closer and closer until his face was almost touching the amulet. His body started feeling lighter and the world around him became quiet, the sound of the rain pattering against his windows drowned out by the all-embracing silence that had befallen his house. The light deep down in the obsidian started dancing and somewhere in the depths of his mind, Madara heard a faint voice calling for him, beckoning him to come closer.

“I’m coming,” he murmured to himself, his gaze lost in the abyss growing in front of him. As if in a trance, he slowly lifted his hand until it hovered directly above the amulet. The voice took on an urging tone, luring him in, growing louder with each second. And just when Madara felt like someone was standing directly behind him, his finger touched the amulet, grazing the obsidian in its middle.

Something surged through his body and his limbs started trembling violently. His eyes widened in horror and his mouth opened but the scream suffocated in his throat. He started seizing and choking on his own gasps for air. The world around him grew dim and shadows formed in the corners of the living room, closing in on him. His whole body shook and he desperately tried to move but something had taken over. Madara screamed silently when the world fell back, the abyss engulfing him.

And all at once, he was calm again. His body stopped trembling and he took a deep breath and then another one. After a moment, Madara glanced down at his hands that were still holding the amulet. And slowly, very slowly, a faint smile curled his lips.