#we go from shitpost to heavy shit to shitpost in a fucking snap

[monochromemedic]

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency.  When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!”   The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.”  Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside.  The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?”  I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature.  “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley.  He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on  my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening  as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat.  Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black.  “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?”  “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous?  I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke.  “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime?  “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being  much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight.  “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

[fandomness--randomness]

Caught {Kaminari Denki x Reader}

I am so mad at myself, I was just tryna organize my account after leaving tumblr for like 2 years and I deleted one of my best goddamn works instead a random shitpost - god fucking dammit, anyways I was able to save the original text so here it is - I'm an idiot

Also it's NSFW ya hornies

Low grunts filled the room, the sound of slow and deep thrusts bouncing off the walls. You groaned into the pillow that you were holding onto, your teeth digging into the fabric as Kaminari slid his length in and out of you.

It had been weeks since the two of you had been able to be with one another, both of you going to different hero schools. So when you were finally able to spend time with him (after he snuck you in of course), he was quick to pull you into bed with him.

His soft kisses and playful teasing quickly turned into bruising kisses and soft nips until he had you on all fours and his hands on your hips. And now you were here, your arms having given out and grabbed his pillow for support. You needed to be quiet, after all, it was still barely noon.

You let out a muffled moan and your thighs twitched as Kaminari hit a specific spot in you.

“God, you feel so good (Y/N).” He whispered in your ear, his front pressed against his back. The new angle had your eyes rolling back and your toes curling.

Releasing your grip on the pillow, you glanced to your side at Kaminari. His forehead was beading with sweat and his eyes were screwed in concentration and pleasure.

“I c-could say the same ab-about you.” You stuttered between thrusts.

Kaminari smiled and opened his eyes to meet yours, a wonderful gaze of love tracked on your visage. “God, how was I so lucky to get a cutie like you?” Kaminari muttered, making you blush.

You moved to hide your face in the pillow again, only to have one of Kaminari’s hands move your face back towards him. “Come on now, don’t be so shy now.” He teased.

Of course, he’d tease you about your shyness. It was probably the one thing keeping your relationship with him from getting out. It’s not that you didn’t really love Kaminari it was just… you knew his friends could be rowdy, (hell your friends were nosy as hell when it came to your life, not that you were annoyed by it), and you weren’t sure if you could mentally or emotionally prepare yourself for that.

It just made you wonder what Kaminari saw in a quiet and shy girl like you in the first place.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, only to squeeze them shut as a particular thrust made your insides spasm around him again.

Kaminari let out a low and guttural moan as he felt your velvety walls grip onto him. “Shit (Y/N) if you do that again I might just cum.” He muttered, straightening back up and setting a fast and hard pace. His hands ran up and down your hips with a soft trail, making your heart flutter.

Your grip on the pillow tightened and your muffled whines increased in frequency and pitch as Kaminari set a hard and heavy pace, the sound of your hips meeting his making a satisfying smack bounce across the walls of his room.

Everything was going fine… that is until your ears perked up on the sounds out in the hall. It sounded like multiple people, one of them yelling over the other. You heard a distinct word that had to be some weird nickname for Kaminari.

“Sparky.”

You turned your head, your mouth opening to warn Kaminari of who might be coming in, but the door was quicker and opened before you could say anything.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was quick to react, grabbing the covers and pulling them over the two of you to shield at least your body from the intruders.

“What the fuck guys! Don’t you know how to knock!” Kaminari yelled at the door. He actually sounded mad.

Glancing over Kaminari’s arm that was shielding your form, you could see four people standing at the door. You immediately recognized them as his friend group (or as he lovingly called it, the Baku-squad), which consisted of the redhead Kirishima, the angry blond Bakugou, and always smiling Sero, and the gossiper Mina.

You had been having thoughts of meeting them for some time now… but this was not how you wanted it to go. At all.

Kirishima was the first to react. He closed his mouth, which had fallen open as he saw the display in front of him.

“Oh, shit um. So Kami-bro. We were just going to ask if you wanted to join us at the arcade… but it seems you’re already busy with something.”

“Or someone!” Sero spoke up, high fiving Mina.

You groaned and let your head fall down into the pillow, an embarrassed blush covering your cheeks.

“Oh shut up guys!” Kaminari yelled, grabbing a different pillow from his bed and chucking it at the door. Mina, the target, let out a yelp and shielded her body from the fluffy attack with her arms.

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he grabbed the door handle. “We’re leaving in 15 minutes. That should give you enough time to finish what you’re doing and come down here with your girlfriend you shitty Pikachu.”

And with that, he closed the door with a sharp snap. You could hear the others complaining, saying something about wanting to tease them more, but they were cut off with an array of explosions and angry cursing.

You and Kaminari didn’t move a muscle until their footsteps had completely faded.

When he finally deduced that the two of you were alone once again, he let his head fall on your back with a groan of utter embarrasement. “I’m so sorry (Y/N).” He muttered against your skin. “That was the worst way I could’ve introduced you to my friends.”

You smiled lovingly at the boy, rubbing his hand softly. “It’s not like you meant it to be like that. I don’t blame you or anything.” You could feel Kaminari’s lips pull into a small smile against your skin. He placed a small kiss on your shoulder, making you hum. “It sounded like your friend Bakugou wanted to meet me… even if he said it in a weird way… so we should probably get downstairs.”

You motioned to move out of the bed, but Kaminari’s grip on your hips stopped you. “Hold on (Y/n). He said we could finish what we were doing up here. You wanna?” He asked, rolling hips against you, making you moan quietly.

A bright blush covered your cheeks. You gave Kaminari a small nod, making him smile. “Awesome. I’ll make this quick. And then you can properly meet my friends.”

[softkuna]

playlist

›  𝚋𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘

› 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚢. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜. 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝.

›  𝟸𝟷𝟿𝟻𝚔

You had a shit day. You got pegged in the face with a volleyball so hard, you could practically taste the concussion as you sprawled backwards. Luckily, the medic ok’d you to keep playing. Unluckily, the whole ordeal happened right in front of a pro team’s scouting manager. The embarrassment alone made you want to hide under a rock until next season. To make it all sting just a little bit more, Bokuto and Kuroo had their own games to attend, so it wasn’t like you could curl up in Kuroo’s dorm like you might’ve before. Bokuto was only in town for a few days, too, and you were certain he’d be practicing or playing the whole weekend. So instead, you sigh as you walk onto the train by campus, shooting a text to the tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

🗨️We lost :( I think I broke my nose. And my careeeeeeer

  Bokuto’s fingers rapid-fire replied, followed my Kuroo’s more casual pace.

  🗯️BROKEN NOSE?!! ARE YOU OK???

🗯️Wait how did u lose? Aren’t they good luck????

💬That’s a broken leg, bruh.

💬Sorry babe. You’re not concussed, though, right?

🗨️I’m fine ^^” just pulled a hina

🗯️Hows a broken leg good luck? U cant play on that THAT SHIT HURTS 😱 😱

🗨️👀 👀 👀

🗨️Bo pls

  As you sat on the train, you quietly snorted to yourself. Bokuto was an amazing player and an even better boyfriend, but sometimes you thought his muscles squeezed out a braincell or two.

💬Saw the clip on twitter. hows your face? I’m sure its still hot

  You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Kuroo, flirtatious as always, but your reflexive smile matched the tone of your text.

🗨️If hot = busted, then sure 🙄

🗯️HEY UR HOT 😘 😘 SHUDDUP

  By the way their texts disjointedly pieced together before coming to a halt, you knew their matches started. You locked your screen with a sigh. Whether it was the ace’s ADHD-induced impulse thoughts or the blocker’s humorously blunt honesty, the two had always managed to spike your spirits high and block the anxieties that crept over the net. Without their distractions, the day replayed in 4K across the theater of your mind. Back slumped against the seat, you could feel the heaviness of it drag you down to the ocean floor.

  But now here you were, walking to your apartment with no reprieve from the disappointment. Rather than doing your adult responsibilities like clean, cook, or generally care past a shower, you slept. It was a deep, blank sleep. The type where you know you’d wake up feeling that eerie calm in the dead of night.

    Brightness blared next to your pillow – invading your vision as it violently vibrated against your hand. A loud ring attacked your half-concious hearing, jolting your heart like a jumpstarted engine. Quick reflexes enacted before you could stop the near Olympic vault of your phone into the wall across the bed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me… who the hell….” You tear the blankets off, shivering at the cold as you pick the device back up. Thank your lord and savior, Asahi, for gifting you an Otter Box for Christmas.

  A gentle gasp left your lips as you saw a slew of missed texts from the dynamic duo. Oh no. Oh no. You felt horrendous. Your phone lit up as a photo of Kuroo with a French fry up his nose vibrated to life.

  As fast as your fingers could, you slid to answer, “He-“

  “-LLO WE ARE OUTSIDE ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?!” Bokuto hollered into the mic, practically blowing out the speaker with sheer vocal force.

  “Holy shit, Bo! What? What do you mean?” Cautiously, the screen was brought closer to your cheek again, ghosting about a centimeter for your hearing’s safety.

  “Don’t you check your phone, hot-stuff? We’re going for a drive,” Kuroo honked the horn, echoing through the window and phone.

  Sure enough, the string of texts was about a drive and a half-planned plan of action. Thrilled enthusiasm rippled through you. You didn’t even think you’d get to see Bokuto this visit let alone with Kuroo! Praise the scheduling gods!

  The phone squished between your shoulder and ear as hands searched for an outfit that wasn’t your hoe shorts and sports bra. You threw on Bokuto’s old Ace’s Way shirt, and on top a near ancient Nekoma varsity jacket. Both items of which were left in your apartment from a get together nearly a year ago, “I’ll be out in a sec!”

  College was difficult. Especially when each of you had gone in somewhat different directions after high school. Kuroo, like yourself, played volleyball in university. And like yourself, nearly ripped his hair out when experiencing the hell that was Macroeconomics with Professor Mori. Bokuto was scouted play volleyball professionally, popping in and out of Tokyo to visit you two. At some point along the way and a slew of confusing budding emotions later, the three of you dove head first into a lovingly symbiotic relationship. It was hard when each of your schedules were chaotic, but worked out for the best as you all strove for your own goals while cheering each other on.

  You grabbed your bag of random things including underwear, extra clothes, and some money.  You never knew with the two of them what may happen and you learned from one wild trip to Osaka that Bokuto’s sense of direction was about as bad as you’d think it’d be.

  Half jogging, you rolled your eyes to the red corvette. Kuroo loved that thing way too much. Through the window, you could see Bokuto lean across the console to open the back driver-side door for you. The grin he wore could’ve fueled the sun itself, “BABE! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! EDGE-LINE STRAIGHT SHOT! WER’RE GOING ON AN ADVENTURE,” His muscular arm stretched to you, calloused hands reaching for you to grab.

  He pulled you you between the seats for a  bear hug, wide chest nearly eating you whole. He was as toasty as always. Or maybe it was just your cheeks. Either way, you were happy to see him, “Missed you, Bo! Sorry for missing the texts.”

  “You were asleep weren’t ya?” Kuroo turned in the driver side, a hand finding its place at the crown of your hair. The lazy pique of his own lop-sided smile greeted your playful glare, which melted into a nod and a sigh. The look he gave softened at the navy-coated aura rolling off you in waves. He stroked your hair once, poking your cheek as his hand passed it, “You’re here. ‘s all that matters. Now, Hoots over here can shut up about your nose, which is… a little fucked up, wow.”

  “You don’t say?” Your expression dead-panned as Bokuto pulled back from you to examine the swollen cartilage. While you wanted them to see the game, you were absolutely glad that they didn’t. Bokuto would have barreled down the bleachers had he seen your wipe out in person. Actually, you recalled a snap from Atsumu; the camera pointed to the tile of a locker room, Bokuto’s howling in the background with a simple caption of ‘You good?’  

  Pulling away from the ace, you sat back into the middle seat, arms resting on the leather between the passenger and driver sides. Kuroo drove with his hands low on the wheel, long digits thwacking the steering wheel to a silent beat. You glanced between the two, suspicious of their matching expressions. You dared ask, “Why’s it so quiet?”

  “Are you saying-“ Kuroo began.

  “-you want some tuunesss?” Bokuto ended giddily.

  He readily tapped a button on his phone, shielding the screen from you protectively. Kuroo’s gaze darted between the dash screen and the road, waiting for whatever shitpost song Bokuto most definitely was about to put on.

  “Guys… what are you-“

  A record scratch.

  I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me! Turn it up, turn it up!” Your hand bulleted to the volume, body squeezing past the two to crank up Cascada’s Everytime We Touch until the windows rattled. Kuroo and Bokuto shared a knowing, toothy smirk. Bingo.

  “Forgive me, my weakness, but I don't know why

Without you, it's hard to survive!”

  Duetting with the utmost of dramatics, you and Bokuto reached for some imaginary lover escaping in the distance, opposite hand grasping near your hearts. Kuroo snickered, forever and always amused at how weirdly in-sync the two of you could be. Watching both of you thrash wildly together was probably the most endearing thing he’s seen all day.

  The silveret pumped his fists as you both scream-sang the modern masterpiece. His large hands enveloped yours with enough theatrics to shake the emotion into the chorus:  

  “'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling

And every time we kiss, I swear I could fly

Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last

Need you by my side

'Cause every time we touch, I feel the static

And every time we kiss, I reach for the sky

Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go

Want you in my life!”

  The palm of your hands smacked into their biceps at the last lines, letting the 2000’s synth twinkle into your veins. The vibes in this vehicle were immaculate. Waves that crashed over you, drowning you earlier in the day, receded, leaving sun-warmed sands to dance across. The ones who paved the way were a sarcastic cat and overzealous owl.

  The song was coming to an end and you excitedly whipped between the two, “What’s next?! What’s the playlist?! Link it to me? Please?” You bat your eyelashes at them, Kuroo nudging his chin to the other. The ace hurriedly clicked a few buttons and opened a few apps, radiating delight itself, “Done!” Your phone buzzed with Bokuto’s link. The title of the playlist popped up, overpouring unadulterated admiration into your heart until it warmed up to your cheeks.

  Tunes To Cheer Our Best Babe Up To.

 It was silly, but on brand for the two. All of the songs were added within the last three hours by both boys. Each one of them an absolute banger.

  It was Kuroo’s idea in the beginning. He remembered all the times in high school you’d cry after an exam, near inconsolable until he’d loan you his headphones. Just a few months ago, he caught you throwing it back to the beat of some pop classic after you failed your first semester’s final exams. There’s a video of it somewhere, but he won’t admit to the sin. You know it because you can hear him hyena-laugh in the hallway every so often as Bad Boy riots in the background.

  Bokuto, with all the brilliantly rambunctious enthusiasm the world could give a single human being, added in every song he already had in his likes. All of which he sung with you on every trip until your voices hurt. He even added Mr. Brightside, reminding you of the time he screamed so loud during the chorus that he sounded like a donkey the rest of the day and into his next match. To this very day, the infamous ‘O ᴼO ᵒn ᵉ  TᵒOᵘCʰ’ could be heard in the locker rooms by each teammate in unison.

  You paused as the next song hit, mouth abruptly shutting as the two in the front recited, word-for-word,

  “Man, fuck.”

“What's wrong Bo?”

“Man, these kids, man, talkin' shit, makin' me feel bad.”

“Man, fuck them kids, bro! Look around, hoots, look at life!”

“Man, you're right”

“Mmm, you see? You see this fine bitch right over here?” Kuroo’s long fingers pinched your cheek at the red light, laughing as you jokingly smacked it away.

“Yeah, woah...” Bokuto beamed at you.

“You see these trees man? You see this water?” You snorted as Kuroo’s hand waved to four-way intersection.

“I guess it is okay.”

“Come on, man, you got so much more to appreciate, man.”

“Man you know what, y-you're right...” The words, lyrics or otherwise, still brought a childish scrunch to the ace’s handsome face.

“You damn right I'm right,” Kuroo smirked, taking even the smallest bit of delight out of his perfected timing, “I can't remember a time I was god-damn wrong.”

“Man, thanks, Demon Cat.”

“Hey man, that's what I'm here for.”

  Bokuto, half-joke-half-serious punched Kuroo’s bicep, eliciting a feral smirk as they went into the chorus. Bo’s arms crossed as he shook his shoulders to the beat. Kuroo threw down at the next red light, clapping to each beat. Just as the bass shook your heart in its chest, both players head-banged with all their might, car jerking with the force. You feared for the steering wheel and the threat of an airbag going off when both boys slam-drummed the vehicle’s surface. The sight of the two of them going absolutely feral elicited the brightest cackle from your belly.

  They really knew how to turn your shittiest days into your new favorites. And you’d definitely be revisiting this playlist.

[dib-shit]

Zim Takes a Fuckin’ Nap

Word count: 2.9k

Pairings implied: ZaSr, TaTr (very subtle), DaGrr (Dib x Gretchen). All can be seen as platonic too.

Warnings: Quite a bit of swearing but nothing derogatory, and a quick reference to furries, courtesy of Skoodge’s fashion taste.

Characters: Zim, Skoodge, Dib, Gaz, Tak, Gretchen, and Gir

Synopsis: Zim’s feeling pretty out of it, huh? Maybe he needs sleep. Wait, Irkens don’t sleep, do they? 

A/N: I originally started this while at the DMV waiting to get my first ID. It’s way longer than it should be, especially since I only wrote it so that Zim could say one thing. Anyway, hope you like it I guess. It’s my first fanfic I’ve ever published, even if it’s a shitpost so here goes nothing. Criticisms welcome if you have ‘em! 

_________________________________________

Five years. It’s been five years since Zim came to this hell hole of a planet. Five years since Zim began his never-ending attempts to hold this planet in his grasp. Five years since Zim met his absolute worst enemy. Four years since Zim discovered he was living with his best friend. Three years since his best friend attended Skool with Zim. Two years since Tak came back to Earth. One year since Zim’s worst enemy became his worst friend… one year since Zim discovered the truth about his mission.

Zim, Skoodge, Tak, and Dib were all attending the same shit hole Skool in their Junior year. One more year after this and none of them would ever have to bother with this nonsense again. Except for Dib. Apparently, he has plans for more education after what was legally required. Zim didn’t get this. The Dib was already a moron, there was no fixing that.

Zim also didn’t understand why Tak was even bothering on coming. She even completes every assignment with flying colors. What was the point? Irkens already had their education jammed into their PAKs moments after hatching. Unknown to Zim, Tak was actually trying to distract herself with skoolwork from something that was eating away at her from the inside. But that’s a whole other story.

Zim groaned as the History teacher droned on about whatever it was he talked about. Dib had shown him in the past that human history isn’t as boring as it seems, it’s just that the education system cuts out a lot of the interesting and sometimes crucial information. So far the only thing Zim gathered from this class on “U.S. History” was that a particular breed of humans were the absolute worst of all of them. These humans had a history of taking whatever the hell they wanted from others, and then ruining those other lives as they go. Dib says that these people, which seems to be the perspective the shitty, sugarcoated textbook is going off of, are “White People”.

Zim placed his chin on his desk as the lesson drove on. He stared at the board until the words didn’t look like words anymore. His eyelids began to feel heavy for some reason. He closed his eyes. His mind seemed to fade away when suddenly he snapped back to reality. Oop there goes gravity. He jerked so hard he nearly fell off his seat. Some of the students gave him puzzled looks, but most of them have gotten used to Zim’s bullshittery.

What the FUCK was that!?!?? He thought. It felt like his body was trying to shut down or some shit. He continued to struggle with this until class let out. Fortunately, it was the last period so he quickly began his trail to the base.

As he walked, he heard footsteps coming behind him, sounding short and out of breath. Skoodge ran up behind him, having to run quite a bit to catch up to him.

“What the hell took you so long?!” He asked. Skoodge, catching his breath, answered. “Got held up with the really large muscle kid. He doesn’t like me for whatever reason”

“Did you blow him up? I would have blown him up.”

“Well no… that would cause a lot of problems. Also, that’s illegal Zim… remember what we said about trying to be normal citizens?”

“No. YOU said that. I would never agree to stupid laws.”

“I know.” Skoodge sighed.

Skoodge had actually grown fond of the Planet. It was frustrating how dumb these humans were sometimes, but life was simpler. Nicer. Not only that but the fashion in the thrift stores were perfect for Skoodge. It was all he ever wore. At the moment he was wearing a pair of very bright surf shorts, along with a shirt that said “I love chubby furries” He had no idea what that meant, he just liked the picture of the fat dog person on it. It was possible that this was the reason he got stopped by Chunk after school.

They reached the neon green house and walked inside to be greeted by a rocket zooming straight into Zim’s gut, knocking him onto the floor. The robot stood up, hugged Skoodge, and then sat on the couch in a very calm manner. Zim was able to get back onto his feet, glared at the robot for a bit as Skoodge giggled a bit, and then removed his contacts and wig. Skoodge soon followed after and they sat on the couch together to watch whatever cursed programming the robot was watching.

“How did class go for you?” Skoodge asked him.

“eh.” Zim shrugged.

There was a moment of silence, then he spoke again.

“I’ve been having trouble keeping my eyes open lately. I think I got poisoned by that demon Moose we dealt with a few days ago.” Zim said.

“Uh… what do you mean keeping your eyes open? You just… keep them open??” Skoodge said with concern in his voice.

Any further questioning would only get grunts from Zim. Skoodge then turned to him and saw that Zim’s eyes were closed, and he seemed unconscious.

“ZIM?!?” Skoodge yelled.

Zim jolted back into consciousness and screamed back “WHAT!?”

“You did the thing!”

“What thing?!?”

“You know the… oh never mind.”

Zim probably would have fallen out of consciousness again had Dib not called Zim’s phone. How Zim had a cellphone plan is beyond me but whatever.

“Hey is Skoodge there with you?” Dib asked.

“Yeh.”

“You two wanna come over or whatever? Tak came to hang out with Gaz, and Gretchen’s family stayed home for sabbath so she’s coming over too. I don’t know, it could help us bond better or whatever”

Skoodge, listening in, started nodding his head. He was actually good friends with Gretchen. He hung out with her at the library even before she got the courage to start talking to Dib again. That, and he actually got along with pretty much everyone.

Zim made a face similar to a scrunched up sea sponge, but told Dib they would come over.

“Also, please don’t bring Gir guys. There’s still damage in the walls from last time.” Dib then said goodbye and hung up.

Zim groaned and slowly slid himself off the couch, onto the floor, and then stood up. Skoodge went to the cabinet, grabbed a bunch of candy and snacks, and said he was ready to go. After arguing about whether to share their snacks with the others, and Skoodge somehow winning the argument (thanks to Gir screaming in his defense), they headed out to the human’s household.

…

Zim seemed to forget about the weird shutdowns while he was busy trying to beat Dib’s ass in Smash Bros. Zim refused to stick with one character so he had to readjust to the move sets almost every round, which really didn’t help his goal. It also didn’t help that they were also playing against Gaz, who made it very hard to survive more than a minute. After many rounds of various video games between the group, they finally decided to settle down with a Movie and then sleep over. It wasn’t like Professor Membrane would give a shit, he was never home.

The other two times they did this, the Irkens in the group would either just stay up playing more games and watching movies, or they would leave. The species wasn’t known to sleep. They are able, but there was no need. Dib compared it to the gems in Steven Universe. Zim would agree but first, he would have to admit that he watches the show along with Skoodge.

This time was going to be different.

The pull of unconsciousness was tugging at Zim again. Throughout the movie, he tried to combat it by jerking his body suddenly as to re-alert himself. Occasionally he would yell out, which quickly got on the others’ nerves.

“Zim what the fuck is your problem?!” Gaz eventually asked, although she didn’t care that much, she just wanted him to shut up.

“WELL WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?!?!” Zim screeched back at her, which he immediately regretted upon seeing Gaz’s reaction.

Before any damage could be done, Tak preemptively held Gaz’s arm back, knowing pissing Zim off would only result in a shit-fest. Dib, having previously been obsessed with Zim’s every move when they were enemies, somehow did not notice his rival was a bit off until now.

Avoiding any more interaction with Zim and risking another blowup, Dib asked Skoodge to join him in the kitchen and asked the short Irken what was going on.

“You mean the yelling? Dib, you should know that’s normal for him” Skoodge stated matter-of-factly. Dib stared at him for a second before responding.

“N-… No Skoodge, I mean the other thing… and wh- what the fuck are you wearing?”

“What, my shirt? Why?” Skoodge asked. 

Dib looked like he was somehow holding a stroke.

“… Nevermind. Back to the issue at hand. It looks almost like he’s… falling asleep or something?? Did Zim eat something bad or??…” Dib trailed off, not really sure how he was going to finish that sentence.

“Falling… asleep? I never really considered that. But we don’t sleep, our PAKs sorta recharge as they go.” Skoodge said.

Dib sighed. “I know. you guys have explained this multiple times, but what if something happened and now-” Dib stopped for a moment. Something clicked in his head. His eyes widened.

“Skoodge… how much does Zim remember the demon moose incident?”

“I don’t know… he knows it happened and he knows it did something to him” Skoodge responded.

“The kick. The moose kicked him and it hit his PAK… Zim’s PAK must’ve gotten damaged. I bet that’s what’s happening.” Dib told him.

“What???” Skoodge was confused.

“The demon moose fucked up Zim’s PAK so now he doesn’t recharge very well. That’s why he’s so tired. He needs sleep.” Dib explained. He was also beginning to realize what was going to have to come next.

They needed to get Zim to go to sleep. It was going to be hard, but the little shit needed a nap. It was going to be like trying to put a gremlin to sleep.

The movie was over. Zim had passed out again. Dib gathered everyone else in the kitchen and explained what was going on.

“Why can’t we just leave him there?” Gaz said.

“Because he’s going to wake up again and try to avoid going to sleep. He needs to know what’s going on so he can get proper rest.” Skoodge responded. It’s an absolute mystery how Zim was able to get by at all without him for some time.

“We could always tase him and just throw a blanket on him.” Tak proposed. She still had some bitterness towards him for ruining her life plans.

“We’re not doing that Tak,” Skoodge stated.

Gretchen spoke up, “Why don’t we just… tell Zim? Explain to him, and then help him get to sleep?”

The others stared at her for a moment, unwilling to admit they were overthinking this a little. It couldn’t be that hard, could it? They were about to get an answer.

Waking up Zim was a mistake. Naturally, he screamed and ended up slapping Dib as a “reflex” although he had to turn around and reach for Dib and Skoodge was the one that actually shook him awake. Skoodge tried to start his explanation but Zim was NOT having it. He got enough bullshit already about being a “defective” so another layer on top of that, to have a PAK that needed him to sleep every now and then, that did not sound fun.

“Zim, listen, it’s okay. You just need to let yourself sleep. you’re already doing it bit by bit but you need to fall all the way.” Skoodge told his friend.

“Yeah, but not on our couch,” Gaz added.

“I can get a sleeping bag. Skoodge is welcome to stay too. I know Tak already is ‘cuz she’s got some project she’s working on with Gaz or something.” Dib said, before leaving the room. When he got the sleeping bag, he decided to grab another for Skoodge… maybe he could try sleeping too? It would be awkward just sitting there all night, and he knew the two of them enough that if Zim was doing something that involved letting his guard down, there was no way Skoodge was leaving his side. Dib would have liked it better if this was done at their base and not in his living room but with Gir there, it probably wouldn’t work out very well.

By the time Dib returned, Gaz and Tak were in the backyard working on Tak’s ship (which Dib had reluctantly returned to her). He could hear faint static from the communicator again. Tak must still be trying to connect to whoever she’s looking for on Meekrob again. Gretchen was sitting on the couch looking at memes on her phone. Skoodge was sitting by Zim on the other side of the couch, still trying to coax him into sleeping, with Zim still refusing.

“Zim isn’t budging… but Skoodge is getting somewhere I think.” Gretchen updated Dib. “By the way, Gaz agreed to let me sleep in her room since the living room will be occupied, and your room would be a little awkward.” Suddenly she remembered that she had to text Keef… her parents thought she was staying at his house for the night, not the Membranes’. As she got up to talk on the phone in private in another room, Dib took her place on the couch.

Dib unrolled both sleeping bags, then stood there awkwardly watching Zim and Skoodge argue. There was no way Zim was going to agree to this with their current tactic. So he proposed to them his earlier idea of Skoodge also sleeping, hoping that would make Zim more comfortable. Upon hearing this, Zim was silent for a bit, looked at Skoodge, then Dib, back to Skoodge, then the floor.

“Wait… Gir!” Zim finally spoke.

“Don’t change the subject dude, you need to fucking sleep!! Gir is fine!” Dib yelled at him.

Just then there was a loud single knock on the door. But really it sounded like someone crashed into the door, followed by multiple little knocks.

“Who could that be knockin’ at my door?!” Dib said in a song-like tune, but also nervous because it was like, 2 in the morning. Seriously who the hell…

“Go away. Don’t come here no more…” Dib finished the lyric under his breath as he answered.

Dib was greeted by a small green dog who looked up at him silently, called Dib a bitch, then walked inside. Dib didn’t even react… by this point he was used to this sort of thing.

“GIR, NO SWEaRiNg!!!” Zim yelled as Dib shut the door behind the robot.

The commotion brought Gretchen back into the room. She took one look at Gir and already picked up on what was going on. Wherever Zim and Gir are together, screaming is sure to follow. She walked over to the little robot to pat his head and scooped him up like a baby.

“What are you doing here Gir? We told you to stay at home.” Skoodge asked, hoping this wasn’t going to make the argument with Zim more difficult.

Gir gave puppy dog eyes more than he normally did, ears drooping and everything. “The pig left… and I was looooonely,” Gir replied with tears in his voice, then suddenly perked up and happily said, “SO I cAMe HERE!!!.”

“Hey Gir, do want to take a nap? Zim is going to try to sleep.” Gretchen calmly told him, still carrying him like a toddler on her hip.

“Yeah!! Sleepytime!! I’ll help get Zim to sleep!” Gir then pulled out a hammer and held it up like he was going to hit Zim with it.

“NO NO NO NO!! GIR DON’T!!” Everyone else screamed. Gir looked at them with a smile still, as Skoodge carefully took the hammer from Gir, and set it in the kitchen. Maybe it was time to talk to him about what’s possible in cartoons… and not in real life.

“Damn, I thought Gir would be on my side… he usually hates having to rest,” Zim grumbled. Dib rolled his eyes and wondered if Zim had actually contacted Gir at some point to get him out of this.

There was a silence for a while. Skoodge looked at Zim and simply said “please… it’ll help. I promise.”

“eeeeeeUGaAAaaaaHHHHGH… FINE!! I’ll take a fuckin’ nap or whatever.” Zim loudly complied. “But only if Skoodge stays. I still don’t trust any of you.” Skoodge nodded in understanding as everyone gave a sigh of relief

God… took long enough, Dib thought. He was surprised it didn’t involve more damage to his house. Whatever. The green bastard was going to finally sleep. Wait… did he know how to sleep? Eh, he’ll figure it out, he’s basically been doing it already, he just had to let it happen.

The two Irkens got settled into the sleeping bags, and Dib tossed them some pillows. Gretchen set Gir between the bags, as he curled up and immediately passed out. They finally got comfortable, Dib turned out the lights, and Gretchen said goodnight. The two humans were about to make their way upstairs when they heard a “Hm.” from Zim.

“What is it?” Skoodge whispered.

Zim made a smirk with his eyes still closed, as he was snuggled up in the poofy sleeping bag. “I’m a warm little bitch.”

The End 

[dotsz]

hey i finished my elmer’s glue fic i bet for the phight

@phandomphightclub​ dunno if you’re still active but here’s my bet lol fml

Empty. The room was empty.

Oh, sure, one could argue otherwise; literally speaking, the room was covered wall to floor in posters from various comic books, fanarts, certificates, and the such. Action figures littered every surface, and the camera set in front of the desk gave the impression of there always being an audience.

And yet.

It wasn’t so much the contents of the room but the atmosphere that made it feel so incredibly void of… happiness? No. Purpose. Maybe. Even the word felt empty.

Butch sighed from his place on his seat. He looked into the camera, the lenses reflecting his own mournful face back at him, and a cold pit grew in his stomach.

“What am I,” he said, “but a puppet in this madness? This simulation? This… this reality, it’s… it’s falling apart.” He put his head in his hands, inwardly cursing himself for how his shoulders shook. “Oh, Lord, it’s all falling apart.”

All this efforts to create something for this bland world, all the years of pouring his heart and soul into his work… was it for naught? Did they truly detest him so? What did he ever do to deserve such torment?

Deep in the recesses of his mind, a dark voice slithered through. But you didn’t really do anything! it whispered. Your show only did well because of the concept; still people fight you on it, tell you what you could do better, yet you refuse to open your mind and accept criticism-

“Silence yourself,” Butch murmured fiercely. “I am not weak. I don’t listen to those who are less than me.”

But are they really less than you? it cackled. What if you are the one in the simulation? The dream? The nightmare? What if they are telling you to wake up? What if your masterpiece is really the key to your salvation, not theirs?

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Butch stood abruptly from his chair, and the screech it made as it slid across the floor caused him to cringe almost as much as the phandom while watching Livin’ Large. “I created their childhood. Without me, they would not exist. I shaped their very souls.”

Is that the truth? Or simply your over-inflated ego?

“Who even are you?” Butch whirled around to face his wall of fanart, which had not been updated since, like, 2015. “What business do you have to be in my mind, speaking poison into me?”

I am your insecurities.

“Impossible. I have none.”

Let me clarify, said the voice. I am the insecurities created out of your show. The creation of Danny Phantom came with sacrifice; it came with the knowledge that despite your initial ideas being of interest, your writing and unwillingness to stray from your narrow-minded beliefs of what cartoons are to be caused the show to inevitably fall into mediocrity.

“Hey-”

The inspiration of superheroes, woven into a twist of a child’s secret identity stemming from keeping themselves safe rather than those they love, coupled with the allure of ghosts in a small, eerie town, as well as relatable and well-written depictions of teenage characters, could’ve made the show to be a legend, revered, given much more than two seasons plus one half-assed excuse for a season and conclusion.

“Are you done yet?” Butch asked irritatedly, an ache beginning to form between his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He didn’t have much time for anything, it seemed, what with Oaxis needing more support and his fans letting him down… he was always being let down…

Stop whining, the voice snapped. Anyway, as I was saying: if Danny Phantom had been given the same treatment as other popular cartoons, like Gravity Falls, the creepiness would’ve fit its child-like innocence enough to give it the right kind of feel people were hoping for when you put ghosts and superheroes together. Truly, I pity you. You could’ve done something great.

“Stop…” Butch groaned. His head pounded, his hands shook, and every inch of his body tried its hardest to go against the thoughts that had begun to enter his brain. His - no, it was no longer his - fandom had grown into a phandom, solely for the show, leaving his ideas behind for “better” ones of their own. And when he demanded answers, they only laughed in his face… is this what he’d become? A laughing stock? An example of everything he’s ever hated?

This simulation of life was created for us to give, the voice said, sounding much more sympathetic. But they’ve done nothing but take from you.

“I…” Butch gasped, fell into his chair, stared into the camera. Soulless lenses.

Isn’t it your fault, though? You pushed them away, didn’t you?

Black spots danced before his eyes.

You false god, said the voice, and Butch lost consciousness.

He swam in darkness for what felt like eons. Bursts of light and noise every so often tore through the veil in front of him; he heard whispers from years past, mutterings of guacamole and a red-head background character, the phrase Phantom Planet’s Not Canon Fuck You; he saw lists of dissection fics and metaphysical hang-out spots at Denny’s, accusations of diaper fetishes… finally showing his ridicule after announcing Oaxis, the way they slandered him.

This was his legacy being shown.

Butch groaned. Something soft remained under him.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a voice to his right. Familiar.

He opened his eyes, slowly, pushing through the heaviness, black spots receding to the corners of his vision. He took a moment to recognize he still sat in his office, only this time on a small couch by the corner.

“Here, drink some water,” said the same voice. Butch turned his head to look-

And froze.

It was him. It looked like him. Same strong jawline, luscious locks of dark hair, broad shoulders and tight-fitting shirt that stretched over his toned physique; same deep, soulful brown eyes, a charming grin showing perfect, pearly-white teeth.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The other him grinned wider, holding out a cup of water. “Here, drink up.”

As if on autopilot, Butch reached forward and took the glass out of Other-Butch’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and something akin to electricity traveled up his arm and into his chest, warming him up from the inside, making him gasp. With shaking hands, he gulped down the cold drink and shivered at the chill.

“What was that?” Butch choked out, staring at the perfection that was his face - on another body, yet so incredibly familiar he had no choice but to feel calm, secure, happy.

Other-Butch laughed, booming and infectious. “Oh, you took a nasty fall, all right. Don’t worry, the voice in your head won’t come as long as I’m here.”

“Alright?” Butch paused. “Who are you?”

“I’m you,” said Other-Butch simply. “Well, not exactly; I have my own thoughts and feelings too, of course. But I’m still you. Same memories.”

“Same name?”

“Butch Hartman.” Other-Butch smiled softly as if he were revisiting an old nostalgic memory. “But you can call me Elmer, if it’s too confusing.”

“Elmer.” Butch tried the name on his tongue - it fit. “I haven’t heard that in years.”

“It’s pretty old, isn’t it?” Elmer sighed, leaning forward. His biceps flexed as he wrung his large hands together. “Butch, do you remember the Golden Days?”

“The what?”

“The Golden Days.” A ghost of a smile. “Back when everyone loved your show. I mean, they still do, but they respected it back then. Loved you. Your ideas.”

“I…” Butch closed his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do. Good times.”

“I remember your - our passion,” Elmer continued, his voice dripping with wistfulness. “And now? What now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re giving up,” Elmer said, his tone suddenly sharp.

Butch snapped his eyes open to stare at Elmer. His jaw jutted out defiantly, his eyes smoldering, looking into his very soul. For the second time today, Butch shivered.

“You can’t give up, not now,” Elmer continued. “What about Oaxis? What about the children? You’re making the future, Butch.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Butch sniffed angrily - he, crying? The almighty Butch Hartman? No, he would not stoop to such low measures. “The phandom-”

“Those little shits know nothing of what you’ve accomplished,” Elmer hissed. “All they’re good for is making bad shitposts and hurting your canon. What happened to ‘You can’t bring me down,’ to ‘Criticism only makes me stronger?’ What happened to the Butch we know?’

Butch stayed silent.

“You can’t give up.” Elmer grabbed his hand, brought it close to him. Butch gasped at the energy flowing between them. “You can’t.”

And through his doubt, a pinprick of light shone through; a small bit of passion broke through, then multiplied, flooding his veins and swelling his heart as he fell further into the electricity Elmer brought him.

Butch grinned, reminiscent to his old bravado. “You’re right.”

Elmer mirrored his grin. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“You will?”

“We can do this together,” Elmer said, his eyes wide and open. Butch leaned into him, the two embracing, gasping at the energy coursing through them. Yes, this was meant to be. They were meant to be.

And whatever happened, Butch knew he’d be ready. With Elmer by his side.

“We can fix this simulation,” Elmer whispered hoarsely into his ear. “Together. Like glue.”

And Butch said, “Okay.”

And together, they created.

[turtle-steverogers]

"Enough of the excuses" with spalbert. angr bois —f💥⚓️

Angry Bois

warnings: mentions of past abuse, alcohol/alcoholism

editing: no

ship: spalbert

word count: 799 cuz apparently writing’s impossible and my fics are suffering

“Where were you.”

It wasn’t a question.  More of a demand, and Albert pursed his lips, eyes not meeting Spot’s as he crossed the room, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it on a hook.

“Out,” he said, curtly.

“Uh huh,” he could picture Spot crossing his arms, eyebrows raised, “Where.”

There it was again.  That gut churning, demanding tone.

“Why do you need to know everything?” Albert’s head felt heavy and he cursed himself for how many drinks he’d had.  But goddamnit, sometimes he needed a little something to take the edge off.  Well, sometimes was an understatement, but there were a lot worse things he could be doing, right?

“I’m allowed to have my own life outside of you, Sean,” he snapped.

Spot didn’t answer and the room fell silent, save for the buzzing in Albert’s head.  Albert turned around, swaying in place for a moment while the world righted itself.  How drunk was he?  He didn’t feel that bad, but his limbs felt too warm to be normal.

“Goddamnit,” Spot muttered, “God fucking damnit, Albert.”

Albert finally met Spot’s gaze, but flinched and looked back at the ground when he saw the disappointment etched across his face, somehow softening and hardening his features.  He looked as tired as Albert felt.

“I thought you were going to sober up.”

Albert felt biting tendrils of anger lick at his chest, intermixing with intoxication.  His fists curled at his side and he pressed his knuckles to his thighs, willing himself to stay present and not lose control.

“Couldn’t even last one fucking week,” Spot said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I got stressed,” Albert bit out through clenched teeth.

“We all get stressed, Albert!” Spot said, his voice pitching up an octave, “enough of those shit excuses, I’m tired of hearing them!”

“Then what do you wanna hear?” Albert snapped, “That I’m sorry? I’m fucking sorry, then!”

“Fuck apologies,” Spot bit, eyes flaring, “I want promises!  But you’ve made it very clear you can’t keep them.”

“Fuck you!” Albert shouted, all semblance of control leaving him at once, “You don’t understand how fucking hard this is for me!  I did try, but I haven’t a fucking clue how else to deal with my fucked up shit!”

“Listen, you may find this hard to grasp, Sean, but shit takes time.  I know I promised, but this is a really fucking hard thing to do.  I’m bound to fuck up some, I’m bound to fall back on this shit, but I’m trying for you.  The least you could do is try to understand and be helpful.”

Spot’s eyes were blown wide.  Anger still lingered behind the thin veil, but a new emotion had manifested in his expression.  Something akin to guilt.

“Albert, hey,” Spot took a step forward, hand outstretched towards Albert.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Albert hissed, taking an instinctive step away from him.  He became acutely aware of the tears that had formed in his eyes.  Stupid alcohol.  Always made him more emotional.

Spot nodded and lowered his hand, his jaw shifting as he studied Albert.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have blown up at you.  That isn’t helping anything.”

Albert scoffed and crossed to the couch, sitting heavily.  Spot sighed and perched himself on the chair across the room.

“I just,” Albert looked up to see Spot leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him.  His lip was worried between his teeth and Albert could practically see the gears in his head turning as he considered how to word his thoughts.

“I’m scared,” Spot admitted, “I’ve seen what alcohol addictions do to people and I-” he cut himself off, shaking his head, “I don’t want you to become what my dad did.”  He subconsciously rubbed at his arm, where Albert knew countless scars from ruthless fights with his father were hidden.

Shame hit his lungs like a truck and he heaved a breath, lowering his head into his hands.  He felt dizzy.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled by his palms, “I’m so sorry, I should have realized how hard this must be for you, too.  Beyond my health.”

“It’s okay,” Spot said, “But we need to work this out.  I love you and I don’t wanna see you hit rock bottom like that.”

“I love you, too,” Albert lifted his head, fixing Spot with a sincere look, “I’m working on it, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” Spot said, standing and sitting on the couch next to him, “and I’ll work on being more aware of your situation.”

“Thanks,” Albert said, casting him a lopsided grin, “fucking freaks me out when we talk things out like adults and shit.  It’s so off brand.”

“I know,” Spot said, considering, “Asshole.”

“Much better...ballsack.”

“Ouch.”

“Sucker.”

-

angry bois

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 9

oh goody!

well this is it. the Date Chapter. the chapter, in which, the Date happens. lowkey im so fucking hype for this stupid goddamn chapter AAAAAAAAAAAA this is when the sexy got kicked up about seven notches and i know its gonna be a fucking twenty from here on out so LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

“Is this your date, Ms. Fall?” he asked.

Cinder didn’t look away from Glynda. “Mhm.”

STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GODDAMN GATE WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SECOND TO EVEN GATHER OURSELVES JUST STRAIGHT UP HUH!!!!!!!!! ‘is this your date’ im legally dead

What the fuck.

already im fucking THRIVING im so glad this chapter’s mood got encapsulated within the first ten seconds and im definitely gonna have to re-read this chapter for the full unannotated experience OOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO READY

Glynda’s thoughts ricocheted inside her head like coins left in a dryer. A part of her couldn’t understand what was happening and disengaged. The rest of her, grasping for purchase in all this, reasoned that going with Cinder was better than staying here confused, alone, and utterly displaced.

glynda ‘i aint ever had a gf before’ goodwitch at her PEAK right here. like GOD shes gone from ‘cinder’s trying to murder me’ to ‘cinder just plopped me right into a date’ like CINDER. CINDER YR CHANGING GEARS SO FAST. YOU DIDNT EVEN SEND FLOWERS OR ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it because shes a u-haul lesbian or

Higher, Glynda realized the dress itself was backless, revealing the black tattoo she’d seen so often before, perfectly centered between sharp shoulder blades.

this gay energy is BONKERS, quite frankly??????? where did cinder get her dress from? why does she have it? did she buy it just for this fuckery? or will she pull the ‘i just had a this lil number laying around’ line????????? does she wanna seduce glynda to death?????? was this PLANNED OR DID SHE JUST DECIDE SHE WANTED A DATE AND WTH LIFE REALLY IS SHORT ON REMNANT THESE DAYS?????????? cinder fall please explain your workings to the class

maybe Glynda wasn’t the only one who’d become adept at reading her opponent.

�� when 👏 will 👏 they 👏 kiss 👏 already 👏👏👏👏

me: this is a slowburn also me: if u assholes dont give me this in the next ten seconds-

“Unarmed? As if you could be so helpless.”

cinder’s style of flirting is just. commentating on a person’s deadliness. that’s IT it’s the only TRICK SHE HAS and its working, is the thing,

im reading the description of the table and remembering the shitpost and oh my god i have to draw this???? hell IS real!!!!!! COULDNT YALL JUST TOSS EM IN A PLAIN BOX,

Cinder eyed her from her bastion of dark cushions,

cinder, ass-deep in cushions: this is peak cuddle territory come and join me

Cinder, for her part, seemed delighted Glynda had noticed. Touching the pendant more gently than Glynda might have ever thought her capable of, Cinder said,  “Yours? You didn’t seem to mind parting with it.”

im still deeply enjoying this powermove the novelty NEVER wears off (and at risk of light spoilers i do enjoy its place in this story 👀)

Cinder let the necklace drop, settling against the swell of her bust once more,

/lightly coughs 👀👀👀

im losing my MIND at how gay this bit is i physically cannot HANDLE IT and if they even describe the meal once im gonna pop off cause i am. SO HUNGRY RN. AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cinder indicated a dish of lamb and vegetables, served on a bed of rice and drizzled in some sort of sauce.

SRY THIS ISNT GAY BUT OH MY GOD IM SO HUNGRY I WANNA E A T I T THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD UGHGHGHGHGHGH WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO BE TODAY OF ALL THE DAYS,

Glynda cleared her throat, working out: “The Grimm.”

like. GOD WE KNOW GLYNDA IS JUST SO FUNCTIONALLY BAD AT CONVERSATION BUT OF ALL THE THINGS glynda please just. just. stop thinking abt her sexy tattoos for a fifth of a second,

“You can control them.” A sedate blink. For all the world, Glynda might have just commented on the weather.

which is a faux pas for a date!!!!!!!!!!! at least tell her the DRESS IS SEXY WE ALL KNO WHATS WHAT YR THINKIN ABT

Glancing down as though it were being pointed out to her for the first time, Cinder shrugged and adjusted the end of the glove a little higher on her bicep. “And?” 

a quick aside im enjoying how like... visually expressive cinder is in this remaster! i can see her facial expressions and her motions really clearly in my mind’s eye which is a fun little boon if only because i have to redraw this nonsense hjsgdfjhfksgd but cinder’s got a Good Face this time around! A QUALITY FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You should know by now, there’s something about you that’s simply irresistible to Grimm.”

HERE COMES THE PLOT (and a single surviving line so far... this one sentence has survived all the world could throw at it... we stan)

Cinder straightened, and Glynda saw that this was what she’d been waiting for.

“It isn’t every day the great Glynda Goodwitch kneels before her adversary, is it?”

HELLO??????????????????????????? WHATS THIS WORDING????????? honestly tho for a second i thought she meant like. quite literally and i thought id missed some PROPER SHIT RIGHT THERE BUT YEAH WTH!!!!!!! C I N D E R

“You cheated. You can’t beat me on your own.”

yes glynda we gathered that yr a top

“Really, Glynda? Poison?” she sneered, something like offense simmering in her expression. “After all this?”

looks at the camera

anyway,

god im literally losing grasp of words to say because theres such a charged mood in this scene............. theyre brushing fingers............ trading jabs.......... im slurpin it up babey!!!!!!!! this rly is the BEST remaster of this whole scene it DESERVES this wordcount!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Beat you,” Cinder corrected. “And call it a point of pride.”

yes cinder we gathered yr a brat,

this dynamic is why this fic is so fuckign good when will winter have a swift return to add even more fuckery to this wild ride

Then, with a heavy-lidded look, Cinder found Glynda’s hand between them, the touch so sudden and daring that Glynda flinched. The fabric of those gloves was smooth against Glynda’s flesh, and for all that cruelty had marked every other instance of contact between them, Cinder was surprisingly gentle.

whomp there go my nuts

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHO MADE THE EXECUTIVE CHOICE TO ADD THIS LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO???????????? im losing my BRAINCELLS

What she wasn’t ready for was for Cinder to guide her hand to her own throat and hold it there.

THERE IS IT THERE’S THE KINK IT’S BEEN SPOTTED

oh my GOD what even IS THIS WHO ADDED THIS SECTION WHO ALLOWED THIS TO COME TO P A S S WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO????????? HEWWO??????????

Now… Now Cinder interested her.

tbh how can i liveblog this? what commentary can i POSSIBLY add that we arent already all THINKING. we just launched into a level of hell so deep that lucifers gonna have to pull some goddamn tricks to follow us down here!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SCENE! THIS MOMENT! IM SCREAMING

Glynda mirrored the expression back at him, and finally, he coughed, not making strong eye contact with either of them. He set their plate before them and hurried out without so much as a check-in.

i just KNEW that was gonna happen JHGDSFGJHKSDF he was gonna walk in on SMTHNG but i didnt think itd be CINDER’S CHOKING KINK,

okay i took a break and ate my weight in roast chicken and we’re back babey

Almost nervously, her fingers carded through her own dark hair, and there, among the locks, Glynda spotted a glimpse of something white, structured and ridged.

AND I AM INSTANTLY KNOCKED BACK UPON MY ASS 👈W👈H😨A👈T👈

It was easier to ignore the rest of it—whatever it was.

glynda you are a fool and a moron im withering into DUST

On no level had she expected those to be Glynda’s words.

then what... did she expect... well probably -- and rightly so -- ‘bitch WHAT ARE THOSE’ TBH

wait sorry i have to jump back because i forgot customary fingerguns on the most brazen bit of Shit yet:

Cinder was occupying herself with something else: the head of a dragon, perched over the door and staring down at the two of them with red, glossy eyes.

👈👈👈😎👈👈👈

okay BACK TO THE FIC

Fangs snapped together around the word.

aka back to me horni

/chanting TEETH! TEETH! TE

okay but the reason i doubled back to catch that fingergun is because we’re getting ass-deep into plot now!!!!!!!!!!! WITCHES AND DRAGONS BABEY......... HERE’S WHAT OFFAL HUNT IS ALL ABT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant rly drop more fingerguns than that because any astute reader will start realising the dots im shouting abt and honestly half the fun of this fic is the ride so >:3c

“Funny. I was sure he would have told you.”

that blow was so low i think cinder hit the concrete with that one

oh god theyre gonna get to the bit and i-

“Is that what all of this has been about? You called me here to remind me that I'm autistic?”

/SCREAMS

The words were delivered firmly, calmly, but Cinder’s response was the opposite, sudden upheaval seizing her. Her expression opened in something akin to panic. “Wh—no? What? No! That's not what I—”

/SCREAMS

oh my GOD CINDER YOU HAVE FUCKED UP LEGENDARILY!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SHE WAS FELL ASS-FIRST ONTO A LANDMINE OH MY GOD

offal hunt v1 cinder: im totally in control and im playing glynda every step of the way

offal hunt v2 cinder: OH JESUS OH FUCK OH NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-

Cinder seemed genuinely stressed now, speaking quicker as though trying to bury the last sixty seconds.

i knew this remaster would have sections that would blow me away but this bit really took the fcuking cake DGHSJFSJHFDG holy SHIT this is AMAZING

It was difficult to tell in the low light, but if Glynda wasn't mistaken, there was a bright flush of embarrassment coloring Cinder’s cheeks.

this is SUCH prime content hey remember in one of the early liveblogs that cinder would descend into full dork? WELL THE DESCENT CAME EARLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /pops bottles

“Cinder.” There was a very real line of threat in Glynda’s tone. “Don’t.”

oh this whole scene just keeps getting better i am LOVING this dynamic now!!!!!!! before it was all pretty one-sided so having the conversation rock back and forth is 👌👌👌

That Witch soul of yours—it was designed to void out everything but the prey before you. To be numb to all human emotion. To focus on the hunt and nothing else.

finally the fruit of 50% of my fingerguns COMES TO LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! PLOT PLOT PLOT

“This is bullshit.” Jabbing an accusing finger at Cinder, Glynda said, “You’re a liar. You’re a criminal!”

i LOVE glyndas pottymouth in this its such a good like... change from her being strict and formal and teachery and now shes full on gremlin huntress hell YES BABY!!!!!!!!!! GO OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“There’s all kinds of things I bet he never told you.” Cinder continued. “Did you know he was close to your predecessor? The Witch who came before you—they were inseparable.”

SRY IM LIKE STRUGGLIN TO COMMENTATE because so much of this like. speaking as an Old-Ass Reader this is like. a LOT! A LOT HAS CHANGED and yet,,,, stayed the same,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yall kids WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER LIKE................ 15 FOR THIS SHIT (but like. chapter 15 was different because this chapter used to be like chapter 7? so now everythings moved along so chapter 15 doesnt sound that impressive but trust me it was a different fic back then)

When they fell away, burnt and ruined, she could see Cinder’s bare arms for the first time. The red lines drawn across her skin sloped down the entire length of her arms, circling her elbows, carved into her wrists. They ended right at her hands, ensuring any long-sleeved garment would hide them. Every covered inch of her was filled like a canvas, like abstract art.

lets pause the fight scene for glynda to be gay!!!!! god im. okay look i said this earlier but im so glad we have more cinder like this tbh. the first version was rly lacking w/ cinder content until late-game when the plot sorta. got itself going? but now we’re eye-deep in this content i LOVE cinder i love this WEIRDO who is a HUGE LOSER and IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Glynda could not dispel the fear that she had been telling the truth.

and after committing Some Amount In Damages, we’re at the end of the chapter!

okay so i really enjoyed this version SO MUCH MORE. everything abt it was polished and worked together so much better and it really needed the space to breathe in its own chapter. its been horny, gay, intense, hilarious, and way more in one chapter and its SO good this really is PEAK offal hunt!!!!!!!!!!!! good job diesel and kc but im still going to murder you both,

[mrbiglong3000]

My wife disappeared a few weeks ago, and she isn't coming back

The night my wife disappeared was... rough, for a variety of reasons.

I've lived my life to this point with the faint suspicion that I may be cursed. Bad things just... happen to me. A coffee will spill on my lap when I'm wearing white slacks. I won't notice cat hair on a dark blouse until I'm nearly at work, and just as I pull into a parking space, I'll remember that my wife borrowed it and put it into her purse instead of mine. I've purchased randomly generated lottery tickets with every single number just one digit away from the jackpot on more than one occasion.

'But wait,' I can already hear you saying, 'if your life is so cursed, then how have you managed to see any kind of success? If you wear a blouse and slacks to work, surely you must at least make a decent wage.' Well, that boils down to two factors, factors that have made me question both my suspicion and my sanity on numerous occasions- negativity bias, and the frequency at which my 'curse' strikes. I can remember plenty of times where I've been shot in the foot by what, to the uninformed, appears to be simple coincidence, but these instances are spaced out just enough to keep onlookers chuckling and shaking their heads. 'You just need to look on the bright side of things!' I've heard it a million times, and even if it's frustrating at times, it's true, really. Once you live like this long enough, you learn to laugh some of the less painful missteps off. It's easier that way.

That was how I met my wife, hilariously enough. It was a hot day- August, if memory serves- and I was just out of work. There was a little popsicle cart that typically rolled through the park around 5pm or so, and well, hey, I'm a sucker for cherry. I had my prize unwrapped and was just about to cram the thing down my throat in an attempt to drop my internal temperature as fast as possible when my phone's message ringtone went off. In retrospect, it was kind of a dumb move, but I let my popsicle hang from my mouth as I fished my phone from my purse and hurried to respond to what was surely an urgent email and not some shitpost from my younger sister. Turns out, though, that it was indeed the latter- and, well, shitpost or not, my sense of humor's been warped for years. I don't remember what it was precisely, but whatever it was, it was enough to make me snort without thinking, and that action let my already-melting popsicle slip from my mouth. I dropped my phone back into my purse on instinct and juggled the popsicle for a few seconds, but it slipped from my hands and onto the ground with a heart-wrenching smack, stopping just long enough on my lap to leave a nice, bright-red stain on the knee of my brand new khakis.

The pants I didn't really care about- spend enough years spilling anything and everything on yourself and you'll eventually learn what Borax is and how to use it- but the popsicle? That was heartbreaking. Sure, it only cost, what, a dollar? But I was hot, I was tired from a long day, I hadn't eaten lunch at work since that time I got food poisoning on the clock and lost my cookies on my desk so my blood sugar was probably low, and my favorite flavor of popsicle just splattered all over the nasty, pigeon-shit covered path. I'm not too proud to admit that I almost started crying. Almost. I didn't actually cry, just... stared at the broken popsicle on the ground, the way the sweet, melting juice cascaded between the brick pavers before it reached the grass and leached into the soil. Maybe I was grounding myself in a way, following the juice's path with my eyes to keep from focusing on the disappointment, but I sure must have looked like a fucking lunatic doing it. I leaned my elbows on my knees and closed my eyes for a minute, for the sake of maintaining composure, and I didn't look up until I felt a tap on my shoulder.

She was gorgeous- dark hair pulled up in a curly ponytail and a warm, if somewhat tired-looking smile. A brief glance at her clothes told me she was a jogger, but that wasn't really the important part. She was offering me something- a popsicle. I could even make out the red through the wrapper. Apparently, she'd seen my little juggling act from a distance, and she said the look on my face made her feel bad enough to buy me a replacement. She got one for herself, too, and we ended up sitting for a while and just chatting, Borax and daily exercise be damned. Before she left, we swapped numbers, and that was how it all started, with a random act of kindness for an exhausted stranger. After a month, we were at each others' apartments constantly, within six, we'd moved in together, and by the end of the next year, I was looking at rings. We balanced everything about each other. I was neat where she was a bit on the messy side. I couldn't cook worth a damn- and I still can't- but her oldest brother went to culinary school and taught her everything she knows. I had a tendency to think about myself, to worry about how I looked and how I stood out, but she was the most giving person I'd ever met. She even made a habit of giving blood every two months or so. She said she'd started to make ends meet, but once she was financially stable, she just kept doing it. She said she liked knowing that she was doing something good. My luck even seemed to get better after that day, believe it or not. It was almost funny to think about, but in a way, my curse had blessed me with the chance to meet her, and once I did, it was almost as if it dissipated entirely.

That brings us to now- we've been married for two years, and we were even looking into fostering. We agreed we were going to seek older children, both for the sake of moving a kid out of the system and to be sure we wouldn't need to juggle a puppy and a baby. Who needs to potty train one tiny life after another, y'know? Plus, it would be nice knowing we got a kid out of a pipeline to failure. We weren't rich by any means, but we were comfortable, and we could certainly grant an elementary-age child a life they may not get somewhere else.

I had to stay late at work that night. One of the downsides of moving up the corporate ladder is, well, sometimes it means there's more work to be done, I guess. I'm not sure if it's my direct superior offloading tasks he doesn't want to do onto me, or if I'm just adjusting, but I digress. I was late. She knew about that- I'd texted her saying as much- and dinner would be on the table just as I was getting home. Or, it would have been, if I hadn't needed to stop for gas. Oh, well. I'd be a few minutes later than I'd promised, a habit I was doing my best to break, but at least I caught it before my car ran dry entirely and I wound up out of gas somewhere stupid again.

In retrospect, I should have sped home. Maybe if I was there, I could have done something. I keep telling myself that it wasn't my fault, that I had no way of knowing what was going to happen, because that's the most logical way to see the situation, but...

The apartment was still when I got home. Dinner was on the stove, still warm in the pot and covered to keep it that way, but the television was off, and the silence burned in my ears. She liked... likes. She likes to listen to music when she cooks. She told me when we started dating that too much quiet unnerved her, and in that moment, I finally understood what she meant. I left the kitchen, flipping the hall light on as I passed the switch, and the smell started to reach me just as I got to the bedroom door. It was closed, and I stopped with my hand on the knob. I knew I didn't want to open that door. The feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this wasn't some romantic surprise. There was a taste in the air not unlike the one a nosebleed leaves behind, metallic and tacky and unpleasant, overpowering the heavy, savory scent of garlic from the alfredo sauce left on the stove. Still, I knew that if I didn't open it, I couldn't rest. Almost as if I was on autopilot, I twisted the knob and pushed inward.

The room was dark, lit only by the ambient glow seeping between the blinds from the street outside and a dim arc cast through the doorway by the bulb down the hall. As soon as the door was open, the smell hit me like a freight train; if I'd thought it was strong in the hallway, this was overbearing, as if someone was kneeling on my chest and forcing me to breathe with my head in a sack full of hot, wet pennies. I was so thrown by the stench that I almost didn't notice the sound at first, a faint squish in the far corner. I did not turn on the light, and what I could see, I wish I hadn't. The carpets that were lit were stained deeply, almost the same bright red as my knee some three years prior, but not quite. It's almost funny, the way memories tie together like that. I did not laugh.

I wish I could say I turned on the light, confronted whatever was in that darkened corner, done... something. I wish I could say that I'd lifted the bedside lamp and hurled it at the shuddering mass in that bedroom, if only to stop the sound of its chewing for a second. I wish I could say I'd done anything at all, but I can't. And I didn't. I closed the bedroom door, stepped back into the hall, and left the way I'd came, not even bothering to lock the apartment behind me or so much as close the door. I didn't snap out of that trance until I was in the car again, driving nowhere in particular, just... somewhere that wasn't home. I got a call from the police not long after. Apparently, a few neighbors heard screaming and called the cops, and when they arrived and investigated, they found our door wide open and a trail of blood leading from the bedroom out to the balcony. Nothing else. No body, no perpetrator, nothing. Just a bloodied floor and a puppy cowering in the corner of the bathtub in a puddle of his own piss.

I came back later that night to pick up my dog. Poor guy was shaking like a leaf for ages, practically refused to leave the bathroom on his own. The cops ended up carting him out in my jacket, if only to make their investigation a little bit easier without a puppy in the way. I don't know why I wasn't shaking, too. I guess that made them suspicious, but when they questioned me, I had an alibi. Around the time the first neighbor called, I was still getting gas. I'm on CCTV feeds from three different cameras, all timestamped and verified by the cashier working that evening. I found out next that it was, indeed, my wife's blood in the carpets. The tests came back later and, when compared against her donor records, it was a match. That's... that's where the investigation ran dry. They never found a body, nor any witnesses other than the neighbors who heard the scream.

In the silence of the car trip to my parents' house that night, I found myself falling back into old thought patterns, obsessive ideas that refused to leave my brain no matter how little sense they made. I managed to keep them at bay until I pulled into the driveway behind my little sister's car and my phone rang out with the quiet chime of a message alert. Numb, I lifted my phone from the center console and unlocked it. I had one new text message, from a number I recognized. It was my wife's, and in that moment, I knew that what I saw was real, and no amount of searching would ever bring her home.

12:51 AM-

Thanks for dinner.