#wily bastard

[theartingace]

I am FASCINATED by Kayne as a character and the way HE is fascinated by John and Arthur, makes for a fun dynamic that surely wont end in fire and brimstone.

[seventeeneightyfine]

in the grim darkness of the far future there is only traffic

[kalena-henden]

Dongjae, The Good or The Bastard | October 2024 ➳ Lee Joon Hyuk

[existennialmemes]

"New Year's" is just a fancy way of saying that once again we've been duped by the

Inexorable Flow of Time

[taraxippos]

I have spent much of my life at war with various rodents

[sapphic-luthor]

Is there anything quite as wonderful as returning to your own bed after two weeks away?? I’m finally back from vacation, had the best sleep, and on top of it all it’s nicely chilly today while I run my little errands it’s shaping out to be a great Sunday. Music for the week is “Summer Clothes (Acoustic)” - Marc Scibilia! Sending you lots of good end of the summer vibes! - SMA

oooo i’m currently away as well and REALLY looking forward to getting home because i am currently afflicted with the worst sickness i have ever had in my whole fucking life and i am nearly in the “start praying to deities” stage of inability to sleep and coughing

so i promise i will listen to this song later when i’m in better form and able to actually appreciate it !

[kabutoraiger]

i wish i could stop having so many geats thoughts when it is not a show i particularly enjoy other than the cute old man frog

[equalseleventhirds]

if u thought i was annoying abt the isekai game just u wait

[knifeforkspooncup]

This is my Aziraphale Roman Empire and I will die on this characterization hill.

I've been rolling around in Good Omens thoughts again and a gifset made something jump out at me.

This is where the Metatron is going to come undone. He's got the same binary thinking as Heaven. Good or bad. Heaven or hell. Coffee or death. So predictable.

It reminded me of the scene in S1 when Aziraphale is confronted by the angels and they tell him "it's time to choose a side" and this is where it gets chewy and delicious.

Aziraphale points out "there obviously has to be two sides. That's the whole point, so people can make choices. That's what being human means - choices, but that's for them. Our job as angels should be to keep all this working so they can make choices".

He's already arguing for humanity all the way through S1, which is a problem, but it's something he's done consistently. Not questioning. Very much, not questioning. Just... offering suggestions. So this isn't news. He's even made these kind of suggestions to the Metatron before, so not new.

At the end of S1, Crowley points out that he thinks the real 'big one' is coming "Heaven and Hell against humanity". Aziraphale has been sitting with that knowledge for years. He and Crowley have been dancing on the edge of disaster with Heaven and Hell turning up whenever they wanted, invading their space, demanding their time and compliance even though they are seen as rogue agents.

Everything in S2 is Aziraphale trying to maintain the veneer of everything is fine while still dealing with the terror of it all falling apart. The "or death" has been hanging over them the whole time. He saw the attempted execution. He's been told by Heaven that Crowley is under threat.

But the thing about Aziraphale is that he never ever does the predictable thing. Yes, he agreed to go back to Heaven. Yes, the Metatron leveraged Crowley's safety against him to guarantee it. The statement of "I don't want to go back to Heaven" turning around as soon as Crowley's safety is brought into it. Yes, he'll be the Archangel.

But this is the angel who gave away his flaming sword and lied to God's face. This is the angel who interfered in a bet between God and Satan to save the lives of three children. This is the angel who collaborated with a demon so they could have more down time. This is the angel who was swayed towards saving the world because he loves his life there and all his favourite foods and music and indulgences. This is the angel who flipped the bird and dive-bombed out of Heaven to possess a medium and fly a scooter to the end of the world.

Whatever the Metatron thinks he's done by separating Crowley and Aziraphale, he has no idea what he's unleashed. Crowley's bee metaphor comes to mind here. Angels are fiercely protective of Heaven but once you're inside? Well, that's another story. Aziraphale may look like a bee, but he hasn't been a bee for a long, long time. They knew it at his trial.

And Aziraphale can't say he didn't warn them:

"So you're probably thinking if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do and very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out"

Heaven's got a big storm coming and they let it right in through the front door.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Could we get a love triangle where the rivals fall in love with each other instead of the intended love interest? (Would love if it's m/m and enemies to lovers)

"Tell me," Cassander murmured. "Is it that you don't like my hands on her, or simply that you wish I had my hands on you instead?"

Azael glared at the other fey. His jaw clenched with the sudden horrible realisation that the truth wanting to slip passed his lips wasn't "her" immediately and without question.

Cassander, bastard that he was, smirked at his silence. He sauntered closer, his gaze fixed on Azael with the disquieting familiarity of any good enemy. He wasn't like the human. Cassander didn't look at him he was some beautiful, otherworldly and magical thing. All positive qualities and power. A dream within a dream within a fantasy. Cassander looked at him like he knew every filthy, dark thing about him and still wanted to sink his teeth in for the rest. Rake out every lingering secret with clawed hands. Rend and own and conquer.

Cassander was not fragile and caring and brave. If Azael shoved Cassander into a wall, if he grabbed him by the shoulders, experience told him there would be no need to be gentle. No fear of breaking something fleeting and perfect.

It should have been about her. She was the better choice in every way. She should have been what he wanted.

"I think you're very quick to physically put yourself between me and her," Cassander continued, in a confiding sort of voice. "Quick to get in my face and see if I'll put you back down . I think, when the three of us are in a room together, I'm the one that you're always watching."

"That's because you're the one who can't be trusted."

"She's drawn to me."

"You're a high fey. She's a human. She can't help it."

"How very patronising and mildly misogynistic. Does she like that about you?"

"I'm trying to keep her safe!"

"Maybe she does," Cassander mused. "Certainly, it's been centuries since I've seen you so worked up. It's an excellent look on you, possessiveness. It reminds me that, no matter how civilised and cold you pretend to be these days, you're still just the vicious little scrap willing to fight every other member of my court. Aren't you?"

Azael seethed. Still, no good response could leave his mouth without damning him. He'd never envied the human's ability to lie quite so much as when Cassander was in the room. He'd never felt quite so much like his very blood was burning up in the heat.

Cassander's smirk grew.

"But what about you, Azael?" His head tilted, as he paused on the other side of the dining table. His voice was ancient music, fey-tongue, home. "Can you help it?"

"It's not my fault you're - maddening."

"Maddening, am I?"

"The worst."

Azael realised, abruptly, that he'd leaned in across the table to snarl the words into Cassander's beautiful face. There were mere inches between them.

What would Cassander do, if it was the human, standing where Azael was? No doubt he'd be charming. He was never charming to Azael.

Their eyes met.

"Kiss me," Cassander ordered.

Without thinking, savagely, Azael did. He tangled his fingers in Cassander's hair and yanked, half hauling him across the table. He bit down claiming at Cassander's lips. He only stopped when he felt Cassander laugh with feral glee against his mouth.

They broke apart. Cassander's eyes were dark, devouring.

"I guess you can't help it, either," Cassander said. He licked his lips. Slow. Taunting. "So how can you hold it against her? Maybe you should apologise."

"Stay away from her."

"Why?"

"Because -" Azael drew in a breath. He could still imagine the heat of Cassander beneath his hands, the scent of him, the wily danger of the summer court's most favoured son. "Because I said so. And you're in my court."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"I'd like you bloody well kiss me again."

It slipped out. Too lacking in the silver that was supposed to coat his frozen tongue.

Cassander grinned with the same triumphant smile he'd once had on the battlefield. He rounded the table, pushing Azael down into the chair and straddling his lap.

"I'll have to send our sweet girl a fruit basket," he said. He mockingly, gently, tucked Azael's hair back from his flushed face. "She might just make an honest thing of you yet."

"You-"

Then he kissed Azael, and Azael realised he was well and truly screwed.

Him.

Maybe it had always been about him.

Damn it.

[kalena-henden]

Dongjae, The Good or The Bastard 좋거나 나쁜 동재 (2024)

‘이런 기분이구나, 주인공이 된다는건?’ ['So this is how it feels to be the main character?']

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | A sore and tired Toji visits Japan's famed pleasure district for a much needed massage. Maybe getting older does have its benefits!

Content | mdni 18+, Toji x f!reader, mention of Shiu (because of course), smut, sex, piv, hot oil massage, candle oil, happy ending~

Word Count | ~2.4k

Toji stood with a groan, several audible "pops" accompanying his stiff movements as he hoisted himself from Shiu's passenger seat.

"You going to make it, old man?" Shiu asked from behind the steering wheel.

"Yeah, yeah. Look who's talking." Toji waved him off, closing the door behind him, Shiu's voice coming through the open window.

"I'm not the one about to snap in two like cheap chopsticks." Shiu studied him for a moment before searching through his wallet and leaning over to hand Toji a business card.

"What's this?"

"A little place I go when I need to unwind."

The sleek card indicated some type of therapeutic health club. A woman's name was scrolled on the back.

"Ask for her. Tell'em Shiu sent you."

"You know I ain't about to pay for some ritzy day spa." Toji laughed, handing back the little card.

Shiu's eyes narrowed for a moment before he reached once more for his wallet, pulling out a few large bills and shoving them into Toji's outstretched hand, forcing him to take both the money and the unwanted business card.

"For real?" Toji asked, surprised by Shiu's gesture.

"Consider it an investment in your health... cheap bastard." He added under his breath. "Need you in top condition so you can keep making us money."

Toji glanced at the cash in his hand, taking note of the little numbers in the corners, then back at the name on the card, letting out a small huff.

"She that good?" He asked, quirking a brow.

Shiu smiled, inhaling deeply on his cigarette, heavy lids fluttering shut on the smoky exhale. "You'd be amazed what a good massage can do," he said before rolling up the window and driving off.

He thought about gambling it. Getting a nice meal for once. Buying some actual furniture for his crummy one-room apartment. But when the simple climb up the stairs to his front door had him creaking worse than the old wooden steps themselves, he decided a massage might be just what he needed, afterall. One quick shower later, he was back out the door, card and cash in hand.

~~~~~

He arrived in Shinjuku's entertainment district, the red lights of Kabukichō bathing him in a crimson glow. Tokyo's "sleepless town" cried out in a cacophony of buzzing neon, flashy slot machines, and the biting scent of cheap booze. Toji's scar stretched in a wily grin as he imagined the kind of trouble he could get into in a place like this. He tried to picture Shiu wandering the streets of the pleasure district, snickering as he envisioned the half-wasted handler navigating the narrow alleys in search of Korean soju and a pretty face to share his cigarette.

"You old dog." He smirked. Sorely tempted to blow the money elsewhere, he looked once again at the name on the business card. It was your name. "This better be worth it." He sighed.

~~~~~

Nicer than its seedier counterparts, the building had a sleek design, revolving doors of tinted windows framed in golden brass. The subtle trickle from a tranquil water feature and the smell of white orchids working in tandem to fill the sultry atmosphere. Toji let out a low whistle as he entered, the black marble interior echoing his appraisal as he approached the front counter.

Two women, each dressed in white linen tunics tied in a neat bow to one side, giggled softly to one another, cupped hands concealing their quiet exchanges. Toji was fairly certain he already knew the topic of discussion, their eyes boring holes through his tight black shirt and tracing the veins along his biceps. He was used to being gawked at, but always found himself feeling a little hot under the collar nonetheless.

"I uhh..." His mouth felt numb and awkward as he struggled to find the right words, pulling the cash and card from his pocket and laying them both on the marble countertop. "I'm here to see her." He said, tapping the name on the back of the card with a large finger. The two women leaned in, eyes growing wide as they read the name. They exchanged a skeptical look, before glancing worldessly back at Toji.

"Oh...uh.." Why was he suddenly so nervous? It was just a massage, right? "Shiu Kong sent me..." he finished lamely.

At that the women burst into a fit of flirtatious giggles. It was clear they knew the name. Perhaps a little more intimately than Toji anticipated.

You dog. He thought to himself once more.

They beckoned him past the counter, escorting him down a hall into another low lit room. Light danced along the walls from the dozen or more flickering candles scattered tastefully about. At its center, lay a large and rather comfortable looking massage table.

"Once you've undressed," said one of the women, handing him a warm, plush towel, "you may lay face-down on the table with this."

"Un. . .dressed?" The penniless man had never stepped foot in a health spa before, and certainly no place as upscaled as this. The closest he'd come to a real massage was the way he sometimes used the bothersome spring from his broken-down mattress to dig into his sore muscles after a long day as he drifted uncomfortably to sleep.

His question was met with another fit of giggles. His ears burned red, not realizing he'd said something funny. "Like...all the way?"

"Yes. All the way." The other woman clarified with a sly grin. Toji shifted uncomfortably. "We'll leave you to it. Your masseuse will be in shortly."

Their quiet laughter followed them back down the hall as they gossiped about the good-looking man all the way back to their post. Toji, meanwhile, made quick work of peeling off his snug-fitting shirt and grey sweats, the candles’ warm glow illuminating his chiseled features. He looked down at his body, hesitant hands pausing along the hem of his boxers before dragging them down the length of his thighs and around his ankles. Cheeks flushing at his own indecency, he wrapped the towel snuggly around his cinched waist and quickly laid himself face down on the lavish table.

He didn't even hear you enter, flinching slightly as your cool hands made contact with his broad back. Tiny bumps prickled where your cold fingers trailed between his shoulder blades.

“Sorry, dear,” you said softly, reaching for one of your flickering candles. "Let me fix that."

Toji flinched again as warm droplets trickled down his spine. Tilting the candle, you allowed small amounts of oil to rain down on his back, pooling and dripping around his well-defined muscles. The touch-starved man shivered as your fingers deftly worked the warm oil into his rugged frame.

Most clients were greedy - hungry. This one was different, you thought to yourself. His reactions, almost innocent in nature, forced you to surpress small giggles. His little grunts and groans as you found his tender knots, were contrastingly cute coming from such a brute of a man. It was...refreshing.

Toji lay, focusing on your touch and doing his best to relax into the sensation. Warm oil beaded in places, rolling down his skin and forcing him to shudder against the featherlite feel. The weight of your hands on his rigid shoulders was already worth the trip. He had almost forgotten how it felt to be touched by another person.

He was learning to relax, settling in as you moved around the table, working your way from his ankles up his calves. But as you made your way steadily higher, reaching the sensitive skin on the backs and inner portions of his thighs, he began to tense once again, growing increasingly aware of the pulse now thrumming between his legs.

"Shhh. Just relax," you whispered. Turns out it's quite difficult to relax when you're fighting a massive hardon. Thankful he was on his stomach, Toji focused his breathing, and his thoughts, until the grinding pressure against the table below softened, proud of himself for reeling it in before you were any the wiser.

A short while later, just as he thought he might drift to sleep, you gave him two small pats on the shoulder as you asked him to roll over. The large man shifted his weight with surprising ease, turning so his back lay flat against the table.

Staring upward, his eyes gave a soft twinkle in the candlelight as he saw your face for the first time.

His smile was sweet - almost boyish, his signature scar curving playfully at the edge of his lips. You were cute, he thought, easy on the eyes in your silken robe that hugged your curves just right.

"Hey," he said with the awkwardness of a teenager, finally realizing he'd been staring.

"Hey," you giggled, finding his complete lack of suave oddly alluring. "Shall we continue?"

"Mhm," he nodded, puffing his chest out slightly in a way that left you stifling more laughter.

You worked his shoulders, his biceps, his strapping forearms, and even his hands. With the help of the warm oil, you intertwined your fingers between his, sliding your small hands almost playfully within his large ones. It wasn't until you made your way back up to his chest, leaning over him to reach his sculpted abs, that an indecent rush returned to his lower half.

You stood behind his head, bent forward at the waist, tender arms outstretched across his chest. But your breasts... Your breasts were just inches from his face. Their warmth radiating down against his cheeks. So close, he swore he could hear your heart beating. Or was that his?

He squirmed against the growing pressure, trying desperately to stave off what he knew would soon be futile. He could feel his length growing against the towel that shrouded his hips.

Thankfully, mercifully, you withdrew your hands (and your sumptuous tits) just in time for him to talk himself off the proverbial ledge. His breathing steadied. His body relaxed. The sweat that now formed on his brow glistened softly in the candlelight. But as you moved to his ankles, repeating your previous path up his calves and across the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, an impressive bulge began to grow beneath his towel.

He tensed. Hot embarassment creeping its way up his neck. "Relax..." you whispered again, trailing ever higher.

He was a goner, towel now strainging against the force of his twitching length, his own shadow betraying him as the candles cast his throbbing silhouette in a mutinous display against the adjacent wall.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I-"

You cupped his balls in one of your hands, rubbing them gently against your palm.

"Sorry for what?"

Toji froze, mind reeling. You continued your work, carressing his supple skin, fondling the base of his shaft.

"T-this..." he began to say.

"Yes, handsome?"

"This ain't a normal massage place...is it?" He concluded.

"No, baby," you giggled again.

"Hm."

Moments later, your shadows danced against the wall, parting and rejoining as you kissed him passionately, his scant towel falling to the floor as he sat up to meet your lips. Your silken robe quickly joining it. He cupped your ass, scooping up lustful handfuls and placing you squarely on his lap, your legs wrapping nicely around his hips.

The two of you rocked, both sat upon the massage table, a mix of sultry purrs and moans escaping your lips as they intertwined. You rolled your hips, soaking his lap in your honeyed nectar, soft pussy lips gliding along his length in a way that was making him feral. With his strong hands, he lifted you just enough to line up his glistening tip before lowering you slowly, deliciously, onto his aching cock.

Toji hissed as you bottomed out, plush walls gripping him almost painfully. With a moan, he held you closer, pulling you in against his chest and pressing his lips into your neck. Leaning back slightly, he rutted up into you, rolling hips bucking up against your tender folds.

He was big. Much bigger than the average client. Each hungry thrust sent stuttering breaths spilling from your lungs, soft moans keeping time with his rythm.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, nearly laughing as he said it, the difference in size almost humerous, but ultimately euphoric.

Suddenly he hoisted you, lifting you effortlessly in his arms before laying you carefully on your back against the massage table. Your eyes widened with the shock of the sudden change and he couldn't help but think once again how cute you looked. Grabbing himself at the base, he pumped his way back into you, leaning over to meet you face to face with a large hand on either side of your head.

And there was that smile. Even as he fucked you mercilessly into the table, he managed an innocent smile. That was all it took.

Your orgasm washed over you in pounding waves, your fluttering walls crying out in ecstasy as they swallowed Toji's thrusting cock.

With a groan that matched his force of will, he pulled himself from your heat, warm cum hitting your cheek, having covered a surprising distance. He glazed your tits and your tummy, painting you in streaks of creamy white. You gasped, shaken, both by your climax and the sheer amount that spilled from the hulking man.

Coming down from his high, he looked down at the mess he'd made, finally meeting your startled gaze.

"Hey," he said.

"H-hey," you breathed, soft giggles building steadily into full and bouyant laughter.

Bending down, he grabbed the forgotten towel, cleaning you with surprising tenderness.

"Thanks," he said softly, wiping your cheek. "I mean it."

There was only one other client with such good manners.

"Oh no. Thank you," you said with a small wink. "And hey," you added as he pulled on his shirt and sweats. "Give Shiu my thanks, too."

~~~~~

As Toji walked back through the black marble hall, past the front desk, he was met once again with the shared whispers of the two women who swooned and giggled as he gave them an awkward wave goodbye.

Stepping back out onto the sidewalk of the bustling pleasure district, he felt like a new man.

Amazing, he thought, what a good massage can do.

Tags ~ @queentoji

[helpmeimblorboing]

I love Odysseus because the interpretations of his character vary so greatly.

Like, with Diomedes, Achilles, Patroclus, and what have you, you have general baselines of what kind of person they are, and most adaptations tend to stick to them

Odysseus ? People just go buck-wild with his characterisations, like to a hilarious degree

Sometimes he’s a genial, story-telling merchant king with a penchant for killing and trickery.

Sometimes, he’s a wise old mentor with a wily bent, more akin to Phoinix and Nestor

Sometimes he’s an absolute rat bastard of a man, who’d sooner stab you in the back than shake your hand

Sometimes he’s a man, who, despite a penchant for lying and trickery, is ultimately a good person who loves his wife and family and longs to return home

Sometimes he’s a loving husband, who only sleeps with women other than his wife when put under duress and forced to

Sometimes he’s a womanizer, who, while he still loves his wife, sleeps with both Circe and Calypso willingly, without any form of coaxing or duress

It’s hilarious. Polytropos, indeed

[mayurisleftnut]

The date went good! T shot did NOT give me self confidence boost (it actually gave me really bad gas instead which I was just. holding in during the entire date👍) but they are really cool and want to see me again:3

Have a date tomorrow night with a sexy nb person who is dtf but also sober which means I'll be sober. My only solace is I also take my t shot tomorrow so I'm hoping it will magically imbue me with self confidence

Help me t shot..

T shot save me...

[lethxia]

the first pet name shouta allowed hizashi to call him is love.

hizashi started calling aizawa “aiz” or “ai” for short in high school, where he would literally go “aiz. my guy. my dudee. lunch together? aizzzz. cmonnnn” and it just kinda stuck.

years later, they’re officially together Together, and one day mic is on his usual annoying aizawa quest in the teachers lounge , being all like “shoutaaaa. listen to meeeee. aiz. aiiiiii cmon give me attentionnn. :(((( ai. ai please i swear that concert wont take long. its just like four hours. ai. please”

and toshinori whispers to kayama, “i never thought aizawa-san would be one for pda. love truly changes people :)”

kayama is like, “all might ik you dont have time for relationships but. thats not pda thats just mic”

toshi just says, “but. but mic is just straight up calling aizawa his love. in public. affection in public?”

kayama feels the fucking pieces Slide Together. ai = love = hizashi has been calling shouta “love” two weeks into meeting each other. and none of them have Ever realised that. what the fuck

hizashi is still all “aiiii… pretty please, ai? go to that concert with me? :((( ai,,,,,” and aizawa finally sighs and smacks hizashi while hes at it, “fine i’ll go. if youll just shut up.”

and hizashi looks kayama in the eye and fucking smirks.

so maybe there was One person who was aware what was happening from the very beginning.

kayama, in joy: yamada you wily bastard

[hitchyboi]

🦴Fleeting Bliss🦴

FINISHED VERSION, Again very sorry to those that saw it before I finished it XD Accident

Nubbins let's himself try a favorite pass time of his twin and it doesn't go so well

Content Warning: Drug Use, Self Harm, Descriptions of gore and violence. Unhealthy family dynamics. Unwell mental health. The usual Sawyer Family Fun

Word Count: 4, 433

Dust covered boots trudged themselves up the stairs of an old farm house. Wooden slates creaking under the added weight threatening to snap, once white paint chipped away and yellowed with age. Nubbins cursed and grumbled to himself as he ascended the steps on a path to his room. Once he shouldered the door open he tossed the ratted pillowcase he used as a sack to the ground. Filled with new treasures and finds that once brought excitement now served as a downer that left a bitter taste in his mouth and caused another wave of pain to surge from the yellowing bruise covering his temple, just over his eyebrow.

Words echoed over and over in his head of the recent beating and berating by his older brother. Hog bitch. Dumbass. Rat bastard. A lowly no good waste of space... Another curse and kick that sent his door closed and he made his way towards the rat eaten mattress in his corner of the room. Falling onto the abused material Nubbins finally felt a scolding trail fall from his eye and down his cheek. Inhaling quickly with an attempt to prevent more from following he pulled a ball of matted racoon fur he kept by his pillow close to his chest. Pressing his face into the fur and welcoming the familiar scent of hot tar and decay. It was a recent find on one of his hitchhiking sprees, the coons' corpse was still fresh when Nubbins found it though rigor mortis had already set in. Giving the animal a permanent position of laying on its side as if merely resting for a moment rather then forever. Nubbins could feel his cheeks burning, blood bubbling under his skin and threatening to break it wide open. Eyes burning and throbbing with hot tears he finally relinquished his hold on with none to see. Buying his face further into his furry friend's body, small bones twisting under the tight grip of his lanky fingers. Dry fur tickling his nose and mixing with his scruff serving as his only form of comfort in the silent house.

Why did it matter so much to Drayton if he visited the graveyard? He needed more supplies for some of the bigger projects he planned on crafting. Those beeves don't even need their bones no more! Or their skin! But Nubbins had many uses for them, they'd just rot away or fall apart if he didn't collect them. They'd just be useless... like him...

A yell ripped itself from his throat as the words grew louder in his head. Pulling his legs up towards his chest, trapping the coon even closer, he tried to hide from it all. Hide from the words, the whispers. The disappointment. The beatings. The eyes, the eyes, how he hated the eyes. Always staring and always glaring. Always looking down on him, belittling him like an ant to be squashed. He wanted to turn those eyes into ones of fear, despair. Eyes that were looking at a nightmare, wet and bloodshot from crying. But there were no eyes for him to change, no victim to mock and torture. Just himself.

A snapping sound pulled Nubbins out of his thoughts, looking down he saw the now severed jaw of his furry friend loose in his hand. "No! No.. no no.. why?" He gasped and sat up, desperately trying to piece the jaw back into place. The detached lip falling back to his lap with each try. The burning in his face returned but from rage this time as the critter kept refusing to listen. Why would the critter choose now of all times to leave him as well? Leave him just like Bobby did when Drayton has to drag his wily ass back home after the first test. Leave him like Sissy did when she decided California was more her taste then home. Why couldn't just one person just stay?! The coon husk was thrown to the other side of the room, hitting the rotted wall with a heavy thud before sliding down to the floor. No doubt breaking more brittle bones. Nubbins glared at the darkened spot on the wall as his fingers twitched and danced, arm still held out in front of his body.

Heated brown eyes slowly trailed from the spot to one of the posters hung up close by. The bright colors and complex images serving as a more pleasant distraction then the dead animal he'd just thrown to his brothers side of the room. That's right.... Bobby came back... he came back in the end. And so did Sissy... they didn't leave him forever. Furrowed eyebrows slowly relaxed as he let his arm drop back to his side, observing the different decorations his brother had added to his corner. His bed has became more a nest of pillows and blankets, the wall was lined almost completely with different band posters he had acquired along with the addition of little colorful lights strung up here and there. They weren't overly harsh as most lights were to Nubbins, they were softer almost like the stars sitting up in the sky. His gaze soon landed on the ashtray kept near his bed with a few pre-rolled joints Bobby had excitedly talked about sneaking past Cook earlier that week. Nubbins has seen Bobby and Sissy smoke together quite a few times now, it was one of their favorite pass times. Even before they had left. Mention that it helps them to relax and Nubbins always enjoyed how giggly they tended to get not long after.

Springing off his mattress Nubbins quickly closed in on his target and grabbed one of the joints, head whipping around to check the closed door. Nancy had called with the news some of Johnny's victims were being a handful and needed assistance. Ending a beating short Drayton has brought Sissy, Bobby and Bubba with him. Forcing Nubbins to keep his ass at home or worse was to come. That.... meant Nubbins has some time to himself until they came back... and he really wanted to feel that level of enjoyment and rest he'd seen on his siblings faces. He didn't want to rot in his mattress is pain until morning again... not when he had an option now. Grabbing a sticker covered lighter and plopping his ass back onto the mattress, he lit the blunt.

Lifting it towards his lips, Nubbins inhaled. Smoke invaded his senses and burned his throat, ripping hacks and wheezes from his chest. Nose wriggling at the burning taste as his body doubled over, Bobby and Sissy made it look so easy. A few coughs here and there sure but they barely reacted otherwise. He could already hear Bobby's cackle at his pathetic attempt, through laughs he'd slap his back in an effort to help alleviate the wracks just past his ribs. Boney knuckles rap against his own chest instead as he straightened himself out, ridding himself from the worst of the coughing fit. Tongue running over cracked lips Nubbins looked back down towards the joint, eyes hardening with determination at the insulting object. He was gonna have a moment... a moment to relax and feel as happy as his siblings did.

It took a few more attempts before Nubbins was able to pull a hit without hacking up a lung. Pushing past the assaulting burn in his throat, like ashes coating the inside and relighting with each intake of oxygen. The bitter and earthy taste on his tongue was near retch pulling at first but grew more tolerable and then Nubbins finally felt a lightness. Like a rush of blood towards his head but instead of pooling and causing mind numbing headaches, the rush didn't stop. Didn't pool. Flowing up and past his head leaving him feeling lighter then ever before. Tipping his head back with shaking lips, Nubbins let the smoke flow back out. Watching the blurred lines float up towards the ceiling, swirling and dancing together at the same altitude he felt. Nubbins' head felt like it had been cracked open, skull split letting everything that's been locked inside and crammed together out. Emptied until there was nothing left but himself. Never had his mind felt so open. As the head rush plateaued he laid back fully on his bed, the soft fabric melting underneath his weight and cradling his body. Idly spinning the joint in his fingers a lopsided grin stretched across his cheeks, no wonder Sissy and Bobby enjoyed smoking so much. Nubbins normally would be pissed off at them for leaving him out but at the moment, he didn't care. He couldn't find a reason to care when he could lay here and continue feeling good instead. Eagerly lifting the joint back up to his lips, Nubbins inhaled more as his free hand slipped under his favorite loose shirt. Scratching the skin along his stomach lazily.

The bruising on his face long forgotten as he continued to watch the smoke dance around his room, moving like a waterfall in the wrong direction. Like how blood would pour out of a piggy's neck after he broke the skin with his pocket knife. Instead of painting the ground with a pretty shades, these flowed up towards the ceiling and probably past. Nancy always mentioned a place up in the sky, perhaps that's where they were going? What was that place again? Nancy always seemed to speak highly of it, something she rarely ever does bout anything. When was the last time Nancy said anything nice about them? About here? Sure she always feeds Johnny's damn ego, how 'perfect' and 'wonderful' her darling boy was. She never talks about home like she does about the sky place. Would she rather be up there rather then here? Grandpa wouldn't like that... should Nubbins wanna go there? He really don't wanna... He can't see how there'd be any pigs or beeves to toy with in the sky. No weird magical place in the sky could be as comfortable as his bed right in this moment. His body felt heavy, sinking further into a stained material as if trying to meld with it. The touch on his skin felt so soft and so comforting, Nubbins needed more of it.

Heaving himself back into a sitting position, Nubbins felt his body was lagging behind. Half a second behind his mind as he grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off clumsily. Dropping the fabric to the side and eagerly diving back to the welcoming embrace of his bed. Wrapping his lanky limbs around one of the stray pillows still intact he had, nuzzling his face into the plush material. A pleasant tingle dancing across his skin from his face, down his arms and along his stomach. His skin felt alive and buzzing, not the usual energy that had him moving and bouncing but a kind he enjoyed just laying in. Laughter easily flowed out his mouth. Nubbins absolutely could get used to feeling like this, get addicted to it... who knew one person was able to feel so amazing. And all it took was smoking some weird plant? It pulled even more laughter from the depths of Nubbins' guts.

A burning licking at the tips of his fingers brought Nubbins' attention back to the joint, now barely a stump worth holding onto. When had he finished it? Blowing a raspberry at the brief disappointment he flicked the stub to a forgotten corner of the room. Aiming towards Bobby's side but he couldn't tell if his aim was successful or not. Sluggishly running a hand through his greasy strands his attention was attracted to the warm red glow of his dark room set up in the bathroom. Vision blurred as his body continued to move in slow motion, Nubbins could feel his heart pick up pace before he even was able to recognize what he was looking at.

Then his blood ran cold.

Eyes... the eyes were back. They were back and staring right down at him, blocking the comforting light and shrouding Nubbins in a thick shadow. It's inconsistent figure buzzing and pulsing like static as it stood at the end of his mattress. Its skin like a burlap sack filled with fleas all jumping underneath the surface, eager to get at his blood. Back pitched forward to loam over the young man. No sound escaped from either being. A bead of sweat dripped down Nubbins brow despite the goose pimples lining down his arms. Why was it here? Why now? Usually.... usually the didn't bother Nubbins until he was asleep. Was he asleep? When did he doze off? His head began to spin as his heart started pumping even faster. And yet... neither figure moved. A challenge to see which broke first. Which would cower and writhe under the pressure and everything was stacked against Nubbins. His throat started to tighten as he stared back into the figures gaze. Two white pinpricks being the only form able to fully solidify. He needed to get away... he didn't want to be stared at again. To be mocked and judged. Body now shaking and matching the pace of his heart Nubbins forced his body to move as quickly as he could. Throwing his blanket up at the figure and scrambling off his mattress and towards his dark room. Knees and palms scrapping against old splintered wood as he ducked inside the bathroom. Grasping onto the sides of the sink, the cold porcelain feeling like a shock to his burning skin. Desperately sucking in as much air he could now he was hidden from the figures' gaze. His chest heaving as he struggled to hold himself upright.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be scared... cowering. He was supposed to be happy. Enjoying a moment why... why couldn't those figures just give him one damn moment! Always lurking in the corner of his vision then disappearing when Nubbins brought attention to them. Like a cruel joke, a game to see how far they could push him. Grandma used to say they were spirits or such.. not meant to do harm but yet they consistently followed, stared, mocked. Tormenting him and enjoying the fool he'd make out of himself at their sights. Nubbins lifted his head to look at himself through the cracked mirror above his sink. In that moment Nubbins' blood turned to ice one more. Heart dropping to the pit of his stomach to be eaten away at by acid. His chest started to heave as his lungs tightened. Looking towards himself in the mirror all he could see were the hundreds of faces surrounding him. Their gazes locked on him much like the figure still lurking within his room. Turning to press his back against the sink he whipped his head around in an effort to find solace. Yet every wall was adorned with moving eyes that thrived in his panic. Pictures he had taken for his own pleasure taking a life of their own, to jeer at their creator. He could hear the maniacal laughter as their one still images followed him. Surrounded him.

His heart hammered in his chest, beating against ribs and threatening to broke them at any moment as his lungs desperately tried to work. Dropping to his knees Nubbins grasped at his chest as his bones tightened around the offending organs, caging them more and refusing their functions. Moist fingers clawed at his chest desperately as he felt the room start to spin around him. Too tight. His chest felt far too tight, how was he supposed to breathe? How was his heart supposed to beat? Every attempt to suck in air seemed to make his ribs squeeze harder. They needed room... He could feel bruises starting to form where his heart was fighting against bone. Skin was snagged by grimy nails as Nubbins slammed his head against the floor. Splitting angry red lines down the length of his chest. Yes... it was too tight inside and he needed air. One way or another, Nubbins needed air.

A wet sob played for his audience as Nubbins started to tear at his skin with fervor. Nails scraping away layers of skin, only growing more vicious once blood beaded to the surface. It wasn't enough. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. It wasn't enough. With a down right feral snarl Nubbins tug his nails into his chest. Breaking past the skin the aiming deeper, pulling and tearing away at what he could. The sound of flesh tearing was dull to his ears, the blood that pooled onto the ground and seeped into his pants a mere afterthought. If a thought at all. He yelled. He yelled and cried until his throat ran raw, threatening to start bleeding and drown him. His body rocked with heaves as drool and bile fell from his lips adding to the stain pool beneath him. A muffled screech came from the confines of his room, the obstructed vowels vaguely resembling his name. The figure... it had to be the figure calling for him, trying to lure him back out. Panic flooded his veins at the implication, screwing his wet eyes shut with a cry. The tightness hasn't gotten any better, he couldn't dig his claws deep enough. He couldn't pull back enough meat to free his heart and lungs. Still they sat confined and strangled behind uneven bone. His arms burned with exhaustion as his body trembled like a possum soaked in the rain. A lightness pulled at Nubbins' head, lifting the pressure in his spine as his body collapsed. Darkness danced along the edges of his sight as he gazed out the doorway back into his room. The murmuring yelling was still droning in the back of his mind.

"Chop..." Nubbins weakly called as a new wave a tears coated his cheeks. The word breaking and barely audible from overworked cords. Vision blurring as familiar sneakers reached the doorframe.

~~

An irritated grunt was followed by the slam of the old wooden door as Chop returned home. Usually the young man enjoyed being drenched in the blood of an innocent victim, delightfully playing with them as they screamed and writhed under his hammer but today the bloodshed barely pulled forth more then a half energetic grin and occasional chuckle. The wellbeing of his twin was all he could focus on. Damn Cook didn't give him a moment to even check on him before dragging his ass to the truck. Chop made his displeasure very evident in hopes it would get him kicked to the curb. Luck just wasn't on the hippie's side this day as the rest of his siblings sat through his incessant complaints. When they made it to Nancy's he didn't waste time in wrapping the problem pigs up as quickly as he could. Nancy was pleasantly impressed with him yet he couldn't care less at the moment for his aunt's rare approval. He started walking. Down that dirt road back towards home with Drayton yelling at his heels for not helping with clean up.

Chop had only made it three steps into the house before he froze with his eyebrows jumping in concern. The house was quiet. A quiet house and Nubbins never coincided. Nubbins was just as loud and energetic as he was, being quiet never was a strong suit of theirs.

"N-Nubbins? Where... Where's ya at?" Chop called into the eerily still home. There was no reply, no response and that worried him more. Nubbins would avoid Drayton, avoid Nancy and sometimes Johnny if he was upset with him but Chop? Bobby? Nubbins never avoided him. Grabbing onto the railing Chop pulled himself up the stairs towards the second floor, knocking against the wall occasionally to announce his presence some more. Perhaps Nubbins was just invested in something and didn't hear him? Like one of his projects. He could faintly make out the sounds of movement coming from their shared bedroom, releasing some of the worry in his shoulders.

"Nubbins! What're ya so quiet for? House was to-to... well it was to yerself. I'da be... I'da be blasting some Iron Butterfly by now! Or.. or some Humble Pie! You know those guys... heh, well they're always good." Chop laughs as he shoulders their bedroom door open. His gummy grin slowly fell as he was met with the sight of an empty bedroom. The usual disheveled mess it's been with no twin in sight. A pungent order hung in the air, the sour skunk like scent mixed with smoke very familiar to the hippie. Blue eyes quickly clocking the roach that laid left on the ground between their mattresses.

"H-hey... hey Nubbins!" Chop called once more, the worry and concern remaking their home in his chest as he walked further into the room. Just barely catching a weak croak coming from the black room. Making a beeline towards the lone sign of life he crossed the threshold. Nubbins laid face down, barely conscious on the wooden slates, his face red and splotchy from obvious signs of crying. Making the birthmark painting the right side of his face almost unnoticeable. Blood and pile stained the ground around him with an arm outstretched towards the doorframe.

Cursing, Chop quickly dropped down to kneel next to him. Hooking his arms under Nubbins' and lifting his limp body up. A multitude of cuts littered the surface of his chest. Blood smeared across his flesh making it difficult to see how deep they went. Guilt starting to chew its way up as Chop propped his brother's body against the tub as gently as he could.

"N-now now, it'll ah... It'll be fine! Ol' Chop's gotcha now. Grandma 'n Grandpa shoulda- shoulda have something!" He gave a pat to his brothers shoulder, noticeably shakier than usual, before sprinting towards the neighboring bathroom. Ripping open the mirrored cabinet to rummage through the collection of poorly kept first aid. Chop winced slightly hearing the glass mirror slam into the wall, Grandpa surely woulda tan his hide if he were close by, that was a problem for later however. Grabbing the desired items Chop ran back to his brothers side and began dressing his wounds. If there was one thing Chop ever would be grateful about getting drafted... learning on the fly first aid came in handy. Some poking and prodding at the blood slick skin thankfully revealed the cuts weren't that bad. For Nubbins at least, little fucker's had plenty worse. Chop didn't even need to use the glue this time.

"Ya know! Heh, Johnny's in a.. in a lotta trouble now!" Chop laughed as he wrapped old bandages around Nubbins' chest, gauze placed firmly against the cuts as he glanced towards his brothers face. Eyelids drooped low but not fully closed as his gaze held a distant glaze. A nervous tongue swipe against his own lips Chop looked back to his task. "Nancy wasn't all happy with the girls he brought back this time. They was.. they was real squirmy too! You woulda had fun chasin' them! Couse she was being a.... a real bitch to us all night too! She- She tried snatching o' Sonny Bono here- Ha!" A small sound. So soft and quickly Chop almost missed it with his own presence but he saw the quick jump of his brother's chest. A small chuckle. Sure enough, distant eyes seemed as far this time as lips twitched to pull a weak grin.

"... Y-you look like an egg without him...."

A blink. And then another.

"I aint no egghead! Just cause.. Just cause I don't got my do no more! Oh! You hush up, r-ratface!" An unserious smack to the brunette's head followed before Chop hooked an arm under Nubbins' shoulder once more. Lifting his brother back to his feet and helping him out of the darkroom. Helping was an understatement. Chop practically dragged him back out as Nubbins' steps were still shaky and uneven. Leaning a majority of his body weight onto Chop which, admittedly, wasn't much. An occasional wince followed closely by a giggle escaped the younger twin as Chop helped him lay back down on his old mattress.

"Is Drayton still mad at me?" Nubbins' voice was a whisper, throat still raw. Chop ran a hand through his wig with a heavy breath, when wasn't Cook mad? Seemed like just breathing these days would set the old man off on any of their asses. Chop would say he was even worse than before he left, just when had he taken that turn? How long did Bubba and Nubbins have to deal with him before Chop came back? Grabbing the forgotten blanket off of the floor and chucking it back over onto Nubbins' curled up form he waved his hand dismissively.

"Probably more mad at a- at a me now." He couldn't quite tell how Nubbins felt with that reaction. Tired eyes stared off with a small hum in the back of his throat. No doubt exhausted from the episode he went through on his own.

"Y-ya know! Walking all the way back here gave me ah... a new idea! For a song! Thinking about calling it Wasteland! Cause like... cause there's no one on these roads, like a wasteland!" Chop grinned widely as he started talking about his newest idea. Turning back towards his side of the room and starting to arrange some things outside of Nubbins' vision. A small tired smile returned to Nubbins face as he listened as best he could, he really was trying but he couldn't deny how sluggish his body felt. How difficult generating enough energy to even blink, a sensation that always unnerved the always buzzing man but with Chops' eccentric ideas as a calming constant in the background. Nubbins felt more at ease.

"And then something like- Like ah... God! Where is god, where is god, where is- and it goes like that a few more times. Something like 8 or 9 times, yeah! Where is god, where is god, where is-" A snore breaking through and interrupting Chops' words redirected his attention towards Nubbins who now laid asleep. Finally at rest for the night. Walking over to his side Chop leaned over and softly placed the abandoned racoon carcass back in Nubbins' arms. Jaw now securely reattached with some safety pins and spare beads.

"I'll tell ya the rest in the morning."

Now... to find a hiding place for the rest of his joints.

(Credit goes to @cemetery-sunset for the headcanon of Nubbins collecting and using animal/human corpses as stuffed animals basically.

Also I pretty heavily referenced my own experiences with sleep paralysis hallucinations for Nubbins' episode. I may have needed to project just a lil bit)