#v; truce and mannequins

[themosthatedbeingg]

"Mnfmmmfhpg mhmmbhpfff-" How long can this go on? Long enough to end up resembling a large sack of potatoes being held bridal style by a literal tea cup Chihuahua.

Why is this happening ?! Why does he suddenly have handfuls who knows and who cares all that matters is he knew this bitch was service top if that, and pillow princess for damn sure especially with that dump truck of an ass in his hands .

How is he holding him up .. fuck you that’s how he’s strong you asshat !

We’re they making out or just trying to eat eachother’s face ? Kinda hard to tell right now .

[themosthatedbeingg]

More hissing and growling from the cloud and bits of horn and tail poking out here and there followed by some very Sussy baka noises but whatever no one can see shit .

Till it clears and ya whatever happens in the dust cloud stays in the dust cloud .

“Mmnnph!!”

@themosthatedbeingg xxx

“You better not pull out! Give me every last bit of it !” He means don’t you dare pull your punches on me cause he won’t be pulling his either . His tail is out and flicking back and forth behind him like a smug cat waiting for the lazy dog to finally chase after him. “Your only Jerking me off cause I let you —“ and there they go, squabbling again. “Is that all you got?! I can barely even feel it!! Come on give it to me already !!— oh you fucker! We using teeth ?! “ The dust cloud is growing larger and their combined destruction even more so.

"You're going to feel it IN THE MORNING, BITCH!!" More dust, more squawking, more occasionally falling out of the dust cloud dazed while the fight still rages on inside only to leap back in with a renewed vow to kicking ass.

"That's right- CHOKE ON IT! CHOKE O-oWHah?!! You FUCKER! Stop chewing- I'LL POKE YOUR EYE OUT. YOU'RE A DICKED MAN, MORNINGSTAR!" Which is clearly more insulting than a 'dead' man, especially when he didn't pardon him with the royal 'no homo'.

And all at once the battering sounds within the cloud stop. When the dust clears, all that remains where the terrible tornado twirled is... a curious sight unfolding to the soundtrack of too many marshmallows stuffed into one's mouth-

"Mrmgnphhf-"

[7fics]

Jackbum: Jackson goes to the woods to bury a body but Jaebum is already there burying a body.

Warnings: Character Death, Murder, Other stuff that comes with burying dead bodies in woodsdisclaimer: I do not promote murder, I do not hate any of the characters that die in this fic, it was just for the sake of this fic

Word Count: Just under 2k

Author: Chewt, the writer formerly known as Chewy (I changed my name because author Jenni called me Chewt on accident)

an: this is, honestly, crack with a dash of murder. characters may come off as slightly ooc because i’m making them into murderers and they are not (i don’t think) murderers irl.

Reccomended music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HORkT4a2MhQ

“Duuuuuuude. You’re like a marshmallow. ROASTED!” Jackson pats himself on the back for a very good comeback.

“You didn’t roast me,” Mark reminds him.

“Oh, that’s awkward. I could have sworn we just had a conversation,” Jackson pouts.

“No, I haven’t talked since our first hit a while back, buddy. We’re high, not chatty,” Mark corrects, surprisingly sincere given the subject matter at hand.

“Well fuck you, I’m higher than you!”

“No, I am!”

“Prove it!”

“I can jump off this fucking cliff!”

“Why are we getting high on the side of a fucking cliff?”

“I don’t know but I’m gonna jump!”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhh! Do it! OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY— Wait… Mark?” Jackson calls out into the deep recesses of the void.

There’s no response but the echoes of a loud, resounding crunch. Jackson isn’t sure whether to cry in fear of what might have happened to Mark, or celebrate because he actually remembers the word “onomatopoeia” from 8th grade. He decides to do both as he scrambles down the cliff.

Really, it isn’t very high of a fall, and Jackson is sure Mark will be fine. What Jackson hadn’t bet on is Mark’s thin skull taking on the brunt of his thick-headedness. Yes. Mark didn’t jump off the cliff. He dived, like a swan, but without the grace and water to greet him at the bottom.

“What is the point of a brick head if it crumbles on impact?” Jackson laments.

Jackson really isn’t sure what the given procedure is in this scenario, but one thought does resonate. Is he an accomplice to Mark’s murder if Mark murdered himself and technically Jackson egged him on? And, if police come to investigate, surely they’ll arrest him for possession of marijuana. The situation is only looking worse.

Jackson digs around in his pocket for his phone and also inspiration. The fates must surely be looking out for him, because inspiration greets him in the form of tiny beige speckles.

“Mark always wanted to be buried as one of those tree things. I’ll do just that,” Jackson narrates, as now Mark isn’t around to tell him that his life isn’t a movie.

Jackson shakes the seeds back into his pocket, never mind that they’re tomato seeds and not acorns for oak trees. Mark looked best as a redhead anyway. Then, he gets to work tugging, dragging, and lugging. (He rhymes so well because he listens to Jay Z all the time.)

Jackson doesn’t get too far into the woods before he’s panting heavily. “I’m a fencer! We’re based on speed, not stamina!” he cries into the darkness of the forest. “X marks the spot— oh that was totally a pun, get it?” he mutters to himself, slowly spiraling into what must be shock, or maybe he’s still just high. Regardless, there is a task at hand, and Jackson is determined to finish before sunlight. It would be really awkward if somebody caught him digging a grave for a dead body in the middle of the woods.

—

And that’s why Jackson stumbles across another person not even a minute later. Ridiculous, really. Why must the fates play him in this way, always?

“This isn’t what it looks like! I promise!” He lets Mark thud back down on the ground so he can hold up his hands in the air for good measure.

“It looks like you killed someone, and now you’re trying to cover up the mess,” the other man deadpans. “Even if that isn’t it, you’re still lugging a dead body through the woods and I’d like to see you explain your way out of that one.” The man flicks his hair out of his eyes and at that moment streaks a splash of red across his forehead. Even with Jackson’s nearsightedness, he can make out the bright, foreboding color contrasting against the man’s pale skin in the moonlight.

Jackson contemplates the probability of vampires for a second before his eyes catch sight of the lump by the stranger’s feet. For a moment, Jackson thinks its a leopard, but then realizes that a) leopards don’t live here (he thinks) and b) it’s actually a faux cheetah fur coat that looks pretty shredded (in the literal sense; he can distinguish no muscle mass appearing from beneath the fur. The creepy stranger, on the other hand, is rocking the no-sleeves.)

“Wha-what about you?” Jackson stutters out. He tries to keep his cool in front of a fellow possible kind of murderer, but it’s hard being a newbie to the game of burying a body sketchily in the woods. “Is that a body?” (The question is obviously directed at the cheetah fur pile, because murderer or no, that is definitely a bod and a hot one at that. Now is not the time to think such things though, so Jackson gives himself a small slap on the face for good measure.)

“Yes.”

Taken aback by the blunt answer, Jackson coherently responds, “Oh. What? Illegal!”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m not an illegal alien that’s what I’m not. No way.” (Nobody has to know that once Jackson went to America for a tournament with a visitation visa instead of a work visa.)

“Ok, but are you or are you not dragging a dead body through the woods and trying to bury secretly without the knowledge of the police?” the man presses.

“Well, if you put it that way… I didn’t kill him though! And still, so are you!”

“Fine, truce, we’re both dragging bodies through the woods and if the police find out, we’re going to get in trouble. What did you even do anyway?”

“Why would I tell you that? You’re a complete stranger! And you could be an ax murderer for all I know! In fact, all evidence points to the fact that you most definitely are at least a murderer, if not an ax murderer!” Jackson is in hysterics as this point. He’s still not really sure what even is going on anymore, just that he needs to move on from this place and bury Mark in some tomato seeds, or something. (But he really can’t help it if the stranger’s arms look positively ravishing.)

“You’re kind of annoying for a fellow murderer, you know? I don’t think I’ll invite you to the Murder In Trees Club after all. It’s MInT for short, you know. I’m Jaebum, by the way.”

This is the hook line sinker that reels Jackson in. “Oh. There’s a CLUB? Why didn’t you say so before, of course I’d love to join! I love making new friends! There is a contract though that says you won’t kill club members, right? Oh, do you have a secret code name? Jaebum? Jaebae? JayJay? JayBee? JB? JB! I’m Jackson, but call me JFlawless.”

Jaebum, or JB now, in Jackson’s mind, looks a little taken aback, but decides to roll with it for now. Because that’s what seasoned murderers are trained to do. “So. What happened to that body?”

Jackson’s face flickers into a thousand expressions before settling on fake smirking. (Jackson isn’t a seasoned murderer but he was a public figure for some time, so not he knows how to deal with these things.) He also realizes that now is not the time to tell the truth if he wants to join the club MInT. (The acronym is cute enough that he forgives the crime required to initiate.)

“Oh, you know,” Jackson begins, casually attempting to lean against a tree (although, being Jackson, of course he misjudged and fell over into the tree), “I was out with this kid, Mark, and we were smoking pot but he was totally hogging so I pushed him off the cliff.”

Jaebum smiles, showing all of his teeth. “Lovely.”

“Thank you, and you?”

“Ah well, really it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill this one,” Jaebum does the tree lean, and it works perfectly for him and his long limbs. “I work in retail, you see. It’s a kind of hipster clothing brand so most of our customers are already really annoying kids. But this kid, man, his name is Bambam, always comes in with his boyfriend, this other tall ass kid, Yug-something or other.

“Well, they come in all the time. And they’re annoying as hell. Well, Bambam’s just plain annoying, Yugyeom is fine but he always asks for sizes that we don’t have. Usually, Bambam comes in five minutes right before closing time, which, ugh. Blazes through, fucks up all the nicely folded clothes, only buys one or two of the cheapest items and tries to stack as many fucking coupons on the counter as he can fit in his tiny, pre-pubescent hands.

“I can handle rude customers, up to some point. But then one night, he comes in and asks me to put on ‘the mannequin challenge song’ as if I’m some DJ, which I’m not. But he’s the customer, and there’s the boss’s motto, make the customer happy, so I do it. Takes some effort, but it works. I keep on my fake smile, keep my anger in check. Fine. But then he starts dragging the mannequins to and fro, stacking them up so he can ‘to the mannequin challenge but legit’ and then he tries to leave. And that’s when I snapped. I was not having it. Simply not at all.”

“And then what happened?” Jackson ventures. He’s a little fascinated and awed by the fury of JB’s rant. He’s pretty sure he heard a few actual real live growls, and JB’s chin seems to have elongated over the course of the rant as well.

“I’m not that good at controlling my anger. This happened,” and he kicks the dead body over, the shredded cheetah print pimp coat falling apart.

“Huh. Or maybe you’re just a gross necrophiliac. Why is the poor boy half naked?” Jackson questions.

“Because that is a horrendous coat. Would you ever wear something like that in public?”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Jaebum continues, “I only like to fuck warm bodies like yours.”

Jackson opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly he can’t get out a single word and they’re pressed up against each other, making out with a passion that Jackson has never experienced before. He’s almost sure they’ll end up doing the do in the woods, when there’s a loud crunch as Jackson stumbles across Mark’s hand.

“Oh.” He’d forgotten about the dead bodies part. “You know what. I’m way too high for this. We’ll just promise each other that we’ll keep this a secret between the two of us, and go our own ways. Thanks for the invitation to MInT, but I’ll pass.” Jackson turns to go, and then collapses where he stands.

—

“I’m sorry,” says Jaebum, standing over Jackson’s prone body. “The only way to keep a secret is if nobody knows it happened.”

Jaebum decides he’s not really that sorry. Jinyoung’s birthday is coming up, and he’ll need more than just Bambam’s thin body if he wants to harvest enough human skin to print a single edition book for Jinyoung. It really doesn’t help that Jinyoung tends not to go for the shorter books, either.

[themosthatedbeingg]

Charlie is too mortified to speak @hellsdisneyprincess

“What? What I say? .. Adam started it .. not my fault he can’t fist me properly “

( he means can’t hit him properly )

[themosthatedbeingg]

“Ooh I’m so scared one pump Adam is gonna fist me~~ “. He means one hit Adam, he doesn’t move away , arms crossed over his chest as he watches the other with a bored look.

“ uh in your wet dreams bitch, past Eden games don’t count , I pounded you into the ground so hard last time! “

“Bring it pencil dick! You can’t pound me for shit! “ ( he means beat him)

@themosthatedbeingg xxx

“I don’t want my favorite shirt to get torn dumbass! “ what an idiot !

“Oh please you know what , come inside I want you to come inside right now! You can’t even fist me! “ he means punch him.

"Your ugly shirt doesn't have to worry about me TEARING ITS ASS-" he means 'up' "now does it?!"

"But you can bet your ass, I'm coming! IM COMING FIRST- even!" Which is just him stomping over and rolling up his sleeves. "Fucking please, bruh, I fisted you so fucking hard last time, it broke the fourth wall. Now bend over and take this!" He means an ass whooping.

[themosthatedbeingg]

“You better not pull out! Give me every last bit of it !” He means don’t you dare pull your punches on me cause he won’t be pulling his either . His tail is out and flicking back and forth behind him like a smug cat waiting for the lazy dog to finally chase after him.

“Your only Jerking me off cause I let you —“ and there they go, squabbling again. “Is that all you got?! I can barely even feel it!! Come on give it to me already !!— oh you fucker! We using teeth ?! “

The dust cloud is growing larger and their combined destruction even more so.

@themosthatedbeingg xxx

“Ooh I’m so scared one pump Adam is gonna fist me~~ “. He means one hit Adam, he doesn’t move away , arms crossed over his chest as he watches the other with a bored look. “ uh in your wet dreams bitch, past Eden games don’t count , I pounded you into the ground so hard last time! “ “Bring it pencil dick! You can’t pound me for shit! “ ( he means beat him)

"You'd best be, cunt! 'Cause I don't pull out early. "

He means pull his punches, of course. Knuckles crack as he rolls them around each open palm just for talons to flare once properly warmed up and curl in like the claws of some hunched over beast lurking closer.

"And the seraph shit they don't- you can't just block out what doesn't count! Besides, I already decided the last time didn't count, sooo ~ " Talons twitch, the anticipation of wringing a neck as concentrated as a plump cat prepared to jump a mouse.

"Say that again when I'm JERKING YOU OFF-" He means jerk him off his feet. Though it's more like a tackle that just happens to weight like two tons. Cue the dust cloud of conflict and the fighting of cats and whores. "HOLD STILL YOU SLIPPERY- RAUGHHHH...! TAKE IT! TAKE IT ALL!!" All the blind fisting and pounding, that is.

[themosthatedbeingg]

Was it really suffocation when you didn’t really need to breath also you are the one moaning sir with that tongue trying to find it’s way deeper into Lucifer’s throat ( if he was moaning too shut up no he wasn’t ) it seems he wasn’t the only one with a flexible appendage .

A small gasp leaves the Eden Serpent’s mouth as Adam pulls back his tongue half way out trying to ignore the glistening string of salvia that connected their lips .

“Bleh— unless it’s Pour some sugar on me I’m not playing any other def leop—Urk! Hey asshat !!” His snark was cut off as a full palm shoved his head back even further .

He gripped the other’s fat ass even tighter in retaliation .

“You crawled on top of me dipsit of course I’m gonna pick you up— Honestly I could singe fist it no problem despite how fat it is.. you aren’t that heavy you know ..” he snapped .

"Mnfmmmfhpg mhmmbhpfff-" How long can this go on? Long enough to end up resembling a large sack of potatoes being held bridal style by a literal tea cup Chihuahua.

Why is this happening ?! Why does he suddenly have handfuls who knows and who cares all that matters is he knew this bitch was service top if that, and pillow princess for damn sure especially with that dump truck of an ass in his hands .

How is he holding him up .. fuck you that’s how he’s strong you asshat !

We’re they making out or just trying to eat eachother’s face ? Kinda hard to tell right now .

[themosthatedbeingg]

He frog blinks not really getting it yet, “ multiple meanings ??” What other meaning could you can’t even hit me have … “hmm that might explain why he’s acting weird, I mean seriously he wants to make love ( up) but the moment I agree with him he’s yelling at me that he’s gonna come inside ( come over there ) cause I agreed to our little game, like do you want to make love ( up) or fist me ( hit ) make your up mine dumbass !!”

Charlie is too mortified to speak @hellsdisneyprincess

“What? What I say? .. Adam started it .. not my fault he can’t fist me properly “

( he means can’t hit him properly )