#i cant fill these fucking CLOWN SHOES man

[psrj]

demon king of salvation

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #orv ruined my fucking life like two years ago #stupid fucking webnovel rewired my brain changed me as a person etc #and i cant come back from it so we're trying belated fan art as coping now #my art #fan art #art #oh this is gonna be another stupid fun reverse isekai i thought #this is gonna be so bad its good i thought #i cant fill these fucking CLOWN SHOES man

[sunascumdoll]

For the tiktok trend event , slamming their car door with megumi , gojo and nanami?

ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄᴀʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ

a/n: nanami's is really short bc i felt like i was repeating myself a lot. regardless i hope you enjoy

as always reblogs are appreciated ♡

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴛʀᴇɴᴅ & ᴋɪɴᴋ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ

gojo

i can't necessarily see gojo getting upset with you slamming his car door

like i cant

gojo is a clown

so if anything, he'd take it as a challenge 

and try to like

out slam you 🧍‍♀️

you've seen the trend before, and laughter never failed to seep from your lips seeing the different reactions - death glares, people scolding their significant others, all-natural responses to their door being slammed shut.

satoru sits in the driveway of your home, his car in park, and his foot lightly resting against the brake. 

you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt, grabbing the bags that rest beside your feet before turning towards satoru, "thank you for the day out, babe!"

you lean over and press a kiss to the white-haired man's cheek. you open the car door, stepping outside of it, before grabbing the remaining bags. you silently chuckle to yourself as you slam the door shut with enough force to make the car shake. you slowly ascend the steps to your front door, giggling to yourself as you wait for satoru to call you back.

but it never comes. 

instead, you hear a familiar chuckle, a loud bang, and the sound of glass shattering. your head whirls around, and there stands your 6'3 boyfriend, glass surrounding his feet and his car door partially resting in his hand and hanging off the hinges. 

your eyes practically bulge out of your head, and your mouth drops open, "...what the fuck happened to your door, toru?" 

"i thought we were seeing who could slam it the hardest… i think i won."

megumi 

another baby i think wouldn't yell at you

he’d just sit silently in his seat

turn the radio up or something

megumi honks the horn before grabbing his phone, shooting you a quick text to let you know he has arrived. you slip your shoes on and walk out your front door to his car. you grab the door handle, yanking it open and slamming it once you're comfortably inside. megumi sets his phone down inside the cupholder, eyebrows furrowed as he looks over at you. dark navy blue eyes survey your figure, only to turn away and focus back on the road. 

the two of you sat in silence for over 10 minutes, the sound of the radio filling the empty space. megumi's hand finds its way onto your thigh, gently squeezing it as he pulled into a familiar drive-thru: McDonald’s. 

you tilt your head in confusion, “ ‘gumi? what are we doing he-”

megumi cuts you off and partially leans out the window to speak into the speaker, “could i get a cheeseburger? could i also get a ten count nugget, thank you.”

megumi drives around the building, paying for the food, then pulls into a parking spot. he unbuckles his seatbelt, taking a nugget from its container before turning towards you. 

you hum happily, accepting the nugget into your mouth, “what’s this for?” 

“you slammed my car door, i thought you were upset. i didn’t do anything today, so i figured you were hungry,” he responds. 

nanami 

unlike gojo and megumi

nanami would just ask you what’s wrong

why tf are slamming my car door

did someone upset you

date night with kento. 

you stand in front of the full-body mirror, a pout present on your lips as you smooth the wrinkles from your dress. after trying on numerous outfits, you decide on this tiny black dress. it’s not what you wanted to wear, but it would have to do. kento sits in the car, warming the interior as he waits for you. you rush out of your shared home, plopping down onto the warm leather seats. your manicured nails grab the door handle, yanking it shut before crossing your arms across your chest. kento turns the radio down before turning his body towards you. 

two fingers reach to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, “what’s wrong?”

“this isn’t what i wanted to wear! my original outfit looked weird, and so did everything else,” you whine in response. 

kento nods, sharp eyes roaming over your figure. he leans forward, pressing a firm kiss on your soft, supple lips. 

“you look beautiful. nothing looks weird on you,” he retorts, “but still, that doesn’t give you a reason to slam my car door. please, don’t do that again.”

#[ 🍯 ]honeys.event #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo saturo x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[angelthebedsheet]

“lip gloss kiss marks”

a/n: im making another oneshot so thank you to my broski jay ❤️

rengoku x genderneutral! black! reader

contains kissing, slapping kyo’s ass bc why not, kyo is technically up at an ungodly hour, reader doesn’t like the outside world, reader is a kyojuro ass enthusiast

modern au. f l u f f and some crack bc i cant resist

lets get it

_______________________________________________

You lazily leaned against the doorway with your arms crossed. You watched Kyojuro put on his white button, admiring how his back muscles moved as he adjusted his shirt. “I can feel your stares burning into my back, my love.” Kyojuro said with a slight chuckle as he looked at you in the mirror. You smiled. “What can I say? I’m simply a sucker for my husband’s muscles. Sue me.” You commented earning a hearty laugh from him. You lovingly watched as his eyes crinkled as his shoulders slightly shook. “Ah. You never fail to surprise me. Casanova in the sheets and a shy lil thing in the streets.” He said as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “It’s called me hating the outside world.” You sang while doing jazz hands.

“My brother is in the outside world.” He sang. “Shut up. Senjuro is my baby and I love him. Baby doesn’t count. I mean strangers and other shit like that.” You said, scrunching your nose. He hummed as he tucked his shirt into his pants. Your eyes trailed down his back to his snatched waist then to the main prize. That ass. Your man had a whole junk in the truck. Shawty was thick. You gotta tap that. You quickly shuffled forward and winded your hand back. You slapped it. He gasped and quickly held his bottom. He looked back at you with a bewildered expression and pink cheeks. “I touched the butt.” You said as you stared at your hand. “Y-Y/N! You can’t just do that!” He exclaimed. “Oh yeah? Who’s stopping me? There ain’t no law stoppin’ me from slapping the absolute dog shit out of my husband’s ass. You can’t just wear those slacks with that glorious ass and expect me not to pounce like a cat. Nu uh sir. You walk into a room and that ass walks in 5 minutes later.” You said passionately as you poked your finger into his chest. He huffed out a laugh as he glanced at your plump glossy lips. He could smell the coconut scent and he already wanted to kiss it all away.

“I walk into a room and my butt walks in 5 minutes later?” He questioned as he gently swatted your finger again. “That. shit. is. phat. It fuckin’ jiggles for fuck’s sake, Kyo! It’s mandatory! Let me get my daily dose!” You reached behind him and lightly patted his butt. He swatted your hand away. “Stop it, Y/N! I have to get ready for work.” He whined. “Need I remind you it’s only like what 5 am and you have a whole hour and a half before you even have to clock in?” You said as you adjusted your bonnet. “The early bird gets the worm! It always sets a nice example to be early and prepared for work!” He chirped before putting on his watch. “Sure, but there’s a thing called being too early which you’re doing right now. I don’t get why we couldn’t cuddle for just a few more minutes, sunflower. The bed is so warm and comfy while outside isn’t as warm and comfy.” You whined as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around you. He cupped your face and used his thumb to gently carress your s/c cheek. “Becauseeee my sun, a few more minutes for you means hours. But, don’t worry! I’ll be coming home at a reasonable hour! So after work you’ll have me and my cuddles all to yourself.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your bonnet. He scrunched his nose and gently moved the elastic band of your bonnet back to kiss your forehead.

You hummed. “Still doesn’t make it better. Kyo I think I’ll die without my proper amount of cuddles and affection.” You said dramatically as you made your best puppy eyes. Kyojuro could feel his resistance breaking as he looked at your big bright eyes that he never failed to get lost in. “I’m sorry, my sun! But I can’t stay as much as I’d like to. You also have to start your day fully as well.” He mumbled. You cursed under your breath. “Fineee I won’t ask anymore.” You looked away and grumbled, very unhappy with the fact your puppy eyes didn’t break him like they did on multiple occasions. He nodded and tilted your face back to him. He looked down at your glossy lips and then back up to your eyes. You smiled gently and nodded, giving him permission to let his own gently meet yours, not caring if your lip gloss rubbed off onto his own.

He smiled against your lips as he continued to press short kisses against your own, moving his arms to fully trap you in a hug. You felt yourself lean back slightly due to the repeated kisses (not that you hated it. No no, it was quite the opposite. Kyojuro’s kisses honestly felt like a drug as his regular scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled your senses.) pressed onto you. He hummed as he pulled away. He glanced at your lips and stared in disbelief. “It... It didn’t rub off that much.” He said, surprised at the durability of your lipgloss. Usually, by the time he was done your lips would be ridden of any balm, gloss or lipstick you wore. But this right here? Props. It was actually Kyojuro proof. “Mhm. I’m wearing a thicker one so I don’t have to keep reapplying after you basically eat my lips off each time. Keeps em soft too.” You mumbled as you looked at his glossy lips. “Smart move, my sun.” He said, letting you go. You slightly groaned at the lost of his warmth. (I mean seriously this man was like a human heater why would you let go?)

After he was finally able to finish putting on his clothes and eating with you, he grabbed his knapsack from the couch. You watched as he adjusted the strap on the bag before slipping his shoes on. As he stood up, you fixed his tie. He smiled at you. “I have to go now, my sun.” He said as he cupped your face with both hands. He pressed a kiss to your plump lips and pulled away. You whined, making him press a couple more kisses. “I love you. Remember to call me if you need anything.” He said as he let you go. You nodded as you watched him turn to unlock the door. You held the door for him as he stepped out. You suddenly got an idea. You smirked as you quickly grabbed the back of his collar, pulling him back. He gasped as you twirled him around, grabbing his tie. “Stay for just a little longer? I don’t think I got my daily dose of your kisses.” You said with a devilish innocent smile. You watched as his cheeks reddened.

“Y-You’re evil.” He mumbled as you pulled him back into the house, closing the door behind him. “But you married me.” You cooed, satisfied he was under your spell. “But I married you.” He whispered as you pulled him to kiss you by his tie. Yeah no, he wasn’t going to come in to work by the time he wanted to leave with your stunt you just pulled. He kissed you back, shrugging off his knapsack. With a light thud, his knapsack fell onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck. He kicked his shoes off and quickly lifted you up by your thighs. You squealed as he walked to the kitchen and set you on the island. “I have to go now, my sun.” You mocked once you pulled away from your liplock. He chuckled slightly. “You’re just a little too intoxicating. You little manipulator.” He joked. “Can’t hate the player, hate the game, sunflower.” You said as you pressed kisses all over his face. “Can you call in late today? Just this once?” You asked as you gave your best puppy eyes with a pout.

Damn you and your puppy eyes. He groaned as he pulled his phone out and sent a quick text before gently tossing it on the counter. “The things I do for you.” He leaned forward to get a deeper kiss in. You pulled him closer.

Kyojuro ended up coming into work slightly late with some glossy kisses marks on his pink cheeks.... He was clowned by Sanemi and Shinobu.

#demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyoujurou #kny rengoku #rengoku kyojuro x reader #x black reader #x gender neutral reader #sanemi and shinobu are bros that tag game clown ppl lmao #rengoku is a sucker for you #yall got that magic spell over kyo #kimetsu academy au

[deadpooly]

Iron Man Bingo 2019

Word count: 1222

Tony was many things, but gullible was not one of them. He shouldn't have been scared or startled. Especially after hearing the trademark giggles of Peter Parker and Shuri. But honestly what was he supposed to expect? Those two are like mystery boxes filled with gummy worms rolling around in actual mud.

So it wasn't really his fault that this happened, and according to the two teens, it was their fault either. It was the clown. Yeah okay, whatever. Blame the clown.

OoOoOoOoOoO

In hindsight, it was mostly Shuri. It was her idea to hire the clown, somehow break it into the tower and have it act like a statue that magically moved to scare the living shit out of Tony. Peter was there to laugh at Tony and record it so that's the part he played.

It started when Tony was slowly walking into the  kitchen like a zombie to get coffee because it was like 5 in the morning and he saw the clown standing in the corner. The clown didn't move it just stood there. 

“What the hell?” Tony grumbled as he turned around to the kitchen counter to finish getting coffee. He was probably hallucinating. Scratch that. He was definitely hallucinating, probably from lack of sleep, and lack of coffee. When he turned around the clown was sitting at the table and what the hell, why is a statue clown switching places and in the tower in the first place? “Yep, not awake enough to deal with this.” Tony said as he turned around and started walking towards the stairs to go up to his lab.

As he was leaving he didn't hear the small quiet snickers coming from the vents, nor did he see the clown moving to his next move.

Tony was gradually coming to life while walking up the set of stairs to get to his lab and once he got there he was awake enough to put in the lab code and navigate his way through his tech to get to his main job so that was good.

Except once he got there the clown was sitting crossed legged on the floor by the vent and the air coming through the vent was blowing his big rainbow afro. He had jean overalls and thos big stupid clown shoes and a red striped long sleeve under his overalls. Of course there was also the trademark happy clown make up on his face. Tony did a double take and just stared at the clown. What. The. Fuck. Why is there a clown there and wasn't it just in the kitchen?

At this point Tony ignored it and moved on, assuming it was a hallucination and he was going nuts or something.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Tony kept being startled whenever the clown was. He would run into it and let out a rather loud squeak, because now it was freaky. Why was he still hallucinating a clown. Also, every once and a while he will hallucinate the sound of very familiar giggling that belonged to only two people, but apparently this wasn't enough evidence for him to believe he wasn't hallucinating. Because this shit was just crazy. It happened all day, it was in the kitchen, living room, his lab, literally everywhere he was going to be. He was just lucky that Rhodey or Pepper wasn't there to make fun of him for not sleeping enough and saying “oh we told you so” in his face. However that didn't stop Peter from coming in at about 4 in the afternoon. 

“Hey Mr. Stark!” the boy excitedly greeted when entering the lab. “Anything exciting happen today?”

Of course Peter couldn't see the clown. Tony was finally going crazy. Or maybe he installed a clown statue into each room? He was so confused right now and had no idea what was going on.

“Nothing really, just the same old things. Except maybe I didn't sleep enough last night.” he said but started grumbling towards the end.

They were in his lab and Peter came in and set his suit on the table and went over to the book shelf to pull out his binder of blueprints. Tony had holograms set up around him and he was looking at some of his plans for the Spider-Man suit. Peter was smiling wide and really bubbly today so that was nice. Must have been a good day at school. And the clown was standing against the wall by the bookshelf. So there was no way Peter could see it if he didn't react to it. 

Tony was using all of his will power not to react to the clown in front of Peter, because that would not set a good example and it would be very embarrassing.

“Wait, isn't it a Saturday? Why have you not been here all day?” Tony asked Peter, who’s face went blank for a second before he answered.

“Spider-Man stuff and I had to clean my room.” was what Peter said before he turned away. But as Peter turned away he didn't notice the clown walking up behind him.

So he was looking at holograms when he heard a very loud, unsettling shout that scared the shit out of him. This also made him drop the coffee he was holding and let out a very loud curse.

“What the hell!” he shouted loudly and when he turned around the clown was standing behind him and very much in his space. Tony backed away and turned around to see Peter laughing his ass off.

“Oh my God.” the boy was on the floor pounding a fist into the concrete as he laughed. “You should have seen your face!” he pointed and him. It was at this second he could hear laughing in the vents and the vent screen opened and Shuri crawled out and fell on the floor beside Peter. Except, she was holding a camera. The third thing he saw was the clown shut down like it was some kind of robot.

“This is priceless!” Shuri said, she was still screaming with laughter beside Peter. 

Tony was still wondering if the clown was real, why Shuri is here and is it a Saturday, also why is Shuri holding a camera? Tony’s heart rate was still racing and he dropped into a nearby chair and let out a long suffering breath.

“Okay, what the hell is going on.” he asked still shaken.

“We,” Peter started but he broke out in laughs again. “Built a clown and,” the boy couldn't handle himself and took a deep breath so he could talk.

“That was amazing.” Shuri said beside him. “We built a robot clown and made him follow you around all day.” she was still giggling but she was sitting up on the floor now.

“Okay why?” Tony was still shocked and his head was resting in his hands.

“Because we thought it would be hilarious to watch a clown follow you around all day and see how you would react.” Peter said and he settled down.

“Okay but now I cant trust you guys anymore.” he said, jokingly of course because he is not a poor sport.

“What! But it wasn't me, it was Shuri’s idea!” Peter whined was starting to laugh again.

“Hey! It wasn't me! It was the clown!” 

#tony stark #peter parker #shuri #peter parker and shuri #tony stark and peter parker #tony stark and shuri #ironmanbingo3000 #ironmanbingo2019

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 6

Last Time on Grand Theft Auto:

Tsubasa recovers from the world’s gayest coma as Hibiki trains her mind while putting aside such silly concepts as “the love of my life” and “literally being with my girlfriend.” After cooling Miku’s paranoia with her brand new washboard abs, Genjuro prepares the team for a pizza run across the city to deliver a dangerously hot pizza pie named Durandal. Chaos emerges as the delivery is intercepted by a rival pizza gang, lead by the nefarious Gremlin known as Yukine Chris. But, before the pizza could be claimed, dedicated pizza deliverywoman Hibiki not only steals it back, but eats it, harnessing the power of the pizza and unleashing cheesy pasta based chaos around the location.

Ryoko is so into it that she taps into her superpowers and protects Hibiki after she passes out. The delivery is considered a failure, and no tip is given.

And so, the journey continues...

Meanwhile, in this weird, tricked out mansion...

Chris meditates on some water metaphors of her own.

“that pacman colored freak took only touching it to activate a cheap ass french sword that gave her weird demon powers and its taken me YEARS to use this dumb stripper outfit and the funny cane that goes with it, what the FUCK man, what even is my life”

“maybe... maybe honeybaked hams ARE that powerful...”

“NO! turkey is the superior meat! it’s healthier, lower in fat, and way more tasty! fuck you! i’ll get my goddamned revenge!”

Chris begins musing about Fine’s motivations to capture Hibiki; during these, we’re treated to some brief image flashbacks of Chris’s life.

Suddenly, those jokes about food are a lot less funny.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together as to why this young woman is helping a strange nudist dominatrix spread alien terror across the city of mumblednoises, Japan. She doesn’t really have many an option on the table. It’s either help the weird kinkster with her plans, or die.

Despite everything, she has a high opinion of Fine, for the same reasons someone might have a high opinion of a television show if it were the only show they were ever exposed to. She is deeply afraid of being alone again, because she has lived through such misery that the very thought of existing out in the cold again terrifies the shit out of her.

The Sun rises casually amidst Chris’s thoughts.

“ah shit. it just hit me. i literally have spent the entire night standing here instead of actually going the fuck to sleep. goddamnit.”

On such a devious metaphorical twist, Fine stands behind her as the Sun rises.

“yeah, jokes on you. i couldnt sleep for shit either. turns out, all nude, no blankets? in japan? real bad idea.”

“thats why i decided to GO GOTH, babey! whattaya think? do i give those witchy vibes, huh? real ‘black magic woman’ santana hours? feeling cute, gonna head out with the girls and summon satan in the woods kinda aesthetic looking shit? come on, be real with me. does this not look baller?”

“you look like morticia decided to go to the grocery store to buy some wonder bread, but other than that, its a step up from your usual pussy out attitude, so sure”

“you know i decided to get some brain cells on loan from Brain Cells R Us, and ive been thinking this solomon cane stuff is solomon lame. i dont need this dumb oversized harry potter cosplay prop to get shit done. also, murder is... sorta bad? im still trying to get the brain cell stuff down.”

“i can punch just as good as goody two shoes if not better.”

“lol go do it then champ, im gonna go cut down a forest of trees now”

And so, they both just kinda... stand there.

“QUACK, NEXT SCENE, QUACK”

Meanwhile, Tsubasa is rapidly trying to rehabilitate herself from her wounds like walking like a madman, her IV drip presumably filled with Taco Bell brand Doritos Locos Tacos super spicy nacho cheese. Taco Bell: Live Mas.

“im gonna clear every fucking taco bell in your goddamned memory, kanade”

“think outside the bun! wait, what? that was a taco bell slogan? ah fuck it, im dead. what nerd’s gonna try and correct me?”

“i would, kanade. i am that nerd.”

Tsubasa is hell bent to try and understand Kanade’s simple philosophy of helping others selflessly. Unfortunately, when Kanade died, she took all the brain cells between them in the process, so coming to this epiphany is a work in progress.

“listen its a fucking miracle you are 1. alive and 2. able to have your blood run on the garbage melted plastic taco bell tries to dupe people into believing is cheese so why dont you just lie down and think of better franchises to eat from”

“no! you dont understand! taco bell is a franchise of the PEOPLE! their meals are cheap and filling and- and the chicken quesadillas are of good quality for their price! i promised kanade- my vow to the death. taco bell... ergh... now and forever... i-”

“wait. my gay senses are tingling.”

It’s Hibiki, probably running track with Miku.

“oh yeah... her... i should probably apologize to her. about trying to kill her. and then letting her almost be kidnapped. and just giving her a general hard time about something that wasn’t explained to her in the slightest for months. she’s a good bean.”

Tsubasa proceeds to never canonically apologize to Hibiki throughout the entirety of all 4 seasons of Symphogear.

Look at em run. See, it’s a metaphor, because they haven’t communicated yet and they’re running from their problems! But they’re running towards Tsubasa, who is part of the representative problem these two share! Clearly literary genius.

It’s like someone went halfway into writing an NTR plotline and went “maybe this isn’t a good idea to market our songs on.”

Hibiki is still thinking about her Hellshake Yano moment with Durandal. Mainly how she nearly killed someone with it. Hibiki is very starkly in the “killing is bad, and wrong” camp of morality, a trait currently unique to her that she’ll wind up teaching literally everyone else she meets one way or another.

Some could argue the L stands for Lydian, and they’re wrong. It stands for Lesbian.

“that was one hell of a run, hibiki! im pooped! why dont we go to the locker room and call it a day, have a nice shower and just get some dinn-”

“this is the last straw.

i clean your plates. i cook your food. we eat, shit, shower, and sleep in the same FUCKING area, and this is how you repay me? huh? you think being your wife is easy shit, hibiki? half the damn time you’re running off like clark kent having food poisoning and the other half ive gotta babysit you, the emotional equivalent of a preteen clown, to make sure your life doesn’t self destruct harder than Atlantis sinking into the ocean. im done! i am DONE. im reopening my tinder, im slamming my ass BACK into okcupid, and im gonna date some CUTE ACADEMY GIRLS that treat me BETTER than this ABSOLUTE BETRAYAL OF HEART AND IM NOT CRYING I SWEAR ITS JUST THE SWEAT IN MY EYES AND HIBIKI HOW COULD YOU-”

“oh yeah, sure! hey, lemme just do a few more laps, ive just been feeling judgmental about myself and my figure, you know? gotta push myself further...”

“o-oh yeah, sure. no worries, ill wait for you. love you too, hibiki...”

The girls bathe together, as good friends typically do.

“hey you ever notice the showers here have like, weird psuedo-luxurious minipools to bathe in? like, how rich is this school?”

“whoever made this place is either rich or a pervert. or both, probably!”

Miku remarks that Hibiki has changed since she’s entered Lydian, in a manner most unheterosexual.

“oh FUCK you really DO have washboard abs now! ohhh my god.”

“damn, those abs were heavenly. let’s get pancakes later.”

I won’t screenshot it but something to note is that they actually wear each other’s corresponding underwear colors (or even, if you want to examine more closely, each other’s underwear). Here’s an equivalent scene to give you the mental image.

This is the face of someone who knows what they want and already have it. Such is the power of Kohinata Miku.

Meanwhile, Genjuro comes back from the funeral of the guy the Americans filled violently and with impunity.

“yo that all black look looks baller. i should borrow that look... id look pretty gothy in it.”

“ryoko i sympathize with your sharp, fashionista eye but this was for a funeral, i was paying my respects to the dead. thats the usual dress code.”

“didnt know they updated that. i remember back in my day, we just went in white garments and chanted in latin!”

“shit was fire. literally. lots of funeral pyres.”

“lmao ryoko buddy your larping sessions arent actual history”

“hey dont shit on larping around me. i used to be a professional larper while i was majoring in acting. helped really sell my career when i had to pretend to slay the Dark Lord Jyarloen atop the mountain of skulls in Hargobor after my family was killed by the Dark Army. asshole.”

“haha yeah, larping, thats cool yeah, i do that

i...

i larp.”

“oh yeah? you wanna join my larping session sometime then? we’re gonna do an ancient babylon plot thats inspired by some anime, itll be fun”

“.....................................im super into realism.”

“i know im dressed for a funeral but id like to not part ways with my dignity yet. besides, we’ve got serious shit to talk about. basically, we’re on the verge of getting shitcanned.”

As it turns out, the death of this politician removed the last obstacle of opposition to maintain the 2nd Division, as the average criticism against the 2nd Division is “why are we funding this mystery division when we don’t know what they do”. Of course, the sensible idea for an organization that defeats the Noise is to declassify it, given people of different jobs and positions have physically seen the Symphogear in action, but you know. “Oh no, the other governments will come after us” stick gets shaken.

“im in a union. i know my rights. you’re not taking my acting job here away from me.”

“im not going back to be a preschool teacher. its been ten year. the bites on my ankles still havent healed...”

“yeah man, shit sucks ass. i cant fund my adoption habits if im fired.”

Look at these cinematic parallels. Symphogear truly is a franchise made by someone living in 3030.

“worst part is the new minister is super into america. he’s a... westaboo.”

“a westaboo?”

“westaboo?”

“did he just unironically say westaboo”

“he said westaboo. oh my god. this is the hell timeline.”

“i mean people kept calling me that for worshipping all these fighting flicks so i guess it fit? i dont see the problem here”

Meanwhile, in Lydian Academy...

“so it hit me, right? we’re ALL girls. and we ALL sing. now, humor me a moment. what if... what if we’ve all been recruited to potentially be superheroes... through our singing? like, there’s no coincidence that all this shit happens around us, right? and a famous singer LIVES here? i saw the black cars outside! weird shit is happening here- im not even gonna eat the all you can eat bar anymore!”

“kathy there is literally no such thing as superheroes who sing. this place is more likely to be a organ harvesting op than whatever madness you’re saying”

“what? you need me, a singing superhero, to go stop a problem happening underneath the school, a location meant to recruit young women into potentially becoming fellow crime fighting singers?”

“yeah im too busy poppin’ caps in asses so go kick ass in my place”

“sure!”

“.....................................who ya talkin to, hibiki?”

“the boss! gotta go do a thing again...”

“hibiki, i dont like the fact that capitalism is tearing us apart.”

“you’ve gotta join me in the revolution, hibiki. you. me. luxury automated gay space communism. aint it the dream? share my vision, hibiki. its glorious.”

“n... no...? no gay space communism today? well, what about tomorrow? or the next day? or... maybe the next day? baby steps, you say? but, direction action, hibiki! we’ve gotta strike now!”

“it’s okay hibiki. when i take over the world and destroy all first world government leaders, and unite the globe in my encompassing reign and love... ill make sure to spare you, and be my bride to be.”

“thanks miku. im just not ready yet for the globe to burn in an unending ball of fire as the continents fuse into a new utopia composed of our combined wills. also, ive really gotta go, its genuinely an emergency.”

“for the cause!”

“yes hibiki... for the cause...”

Admittedly, you can see the stages of grief Miku goes through when she sees Hibiki say she can’t join her for pancakes. It’s sad. This side story sucks.

Meanwhile, as it turns out, the problem Hibiki needed to resolve was checking on Tsubasa to see if she hadn’t dissolved into Taco Bell brand hot n’ spicy Tabasco sauce.

“god, cant believe taco bell was closed. now i gotta deliver these lame ass flowers”

“cant wait to get threatened again. wonder what she’ll say. ‘hibiki, i should have killed you when i had the chance.’ or ‘you’re so goddamned weak. i could break your spine with my fingernail’, or some other stuff about metaphors. oh, my stops here”

“HEY BITCH WHATS GOOD-”

“HOLY SHIT”

“you are already”

“dead.”

#symphogear #recap #anime #comedy #sponsored by taco bell

[waitinginthedarke]

The Hammock

Summary: Your adventures with Jay Park and a Hammock

‘Babe? Are you home?’ 

You’d been waiting for that voice all day. 

Ever since you’d woken up that morning to see that he wasn’t laid next to you in bed, having already got up, had a shower, and left for work, you’d been craving the sound of his scratchy, tenor pitch tone. When you’d rolled over to grab your phone from the dresser and checked it for messages, you’d found his usual morning greeting staring back at you; a selfie sent on snow, of him with puffed cheeks and widened eyes, today appearing to be a human peach, which was a great improvement on the day before when he’d scared you with a terrifying clown filter.

But after a day of hectic schedules and meetings that didn’t interest you in the slightest, yet demanded your presence, the sound of him kicking off his shoes and slipping into his monster foot slippers, humming as he drops his bag beside the entry way before making his way to raid the fridge, has you smiling happily as you’re pulled out of the reaches of sleep just as it was about to catch up to you.

‘I’m in the usual place.’ you call out tiredly, stretching your eyes wide to try and keep yourself awake as you feel yourself sinking into the cushion filled hammock Jay had set up in his snug a few months before. He’d used the excuse that you were ‘always falling asleep on him when he was trying to show you his music’ in order to construct the cozy, delightfully warm hanging, saying it was easier to just climb into it with you than to carry you back to bed after he’d finished his work. But more often than not, you’d found yourself making your way sleepily to the hammock in his snug instead of your own bedroom after a long day, enjoying how it felt like sleeping on clouds, and how, because he spent so much time there, the room smelt more like him than your actual bedroom, the scent comforting you as you’d fallen asleep.

‘Hammock?...again?’ 

His voice appearing in the doorway makes you realize you’d almost fallen asleep again, and you scrunch your eyes in playful irritation as you hear him chuckle at you, the sounds of crunching and chewing speeding up the time it takes for you to open your eyes as your stomach growls eagerly for food.

‘What are you eating?’ you mumble.

‘Yah! Where’s the ‘my handsome boyfriend, i’m so happy you’re finally home! How has your day been? I’ve missed you all day’-’

You raise an eyebrow at him mocking you, waiting for him to finish and smirking when you catch his eye, causing him to trail off with a sheepish smirk, before pushing himself off of the door frame and walking over to you.

‘Hey!’ you whine, when he suddenly drops himself into the hammock with you, making it swing wildly for a moment and causing you to squeal quietly in your surprise, until you fall into him in your quest to find out what chips he had, the two of you chuckling and laughing as you continue to wobble and shuffle, until you’d come to lie beside him, both at an awkward angle, but finally comfortable as he slips his arm around your shoulders.

‘Ahh man! You didn’t even pick up a good flavour.’ you whine when you catch sight of the chip packet label and you smell the bag, wrinkling your nose in distaste, but snatching a chip from the packet anyway and shoving it into your mouth before he could steal it back from you, giggling when you catch sight of the scowl he sends your way.

‘Hey! If you’re going to complain at my choice of food, you can always go and get your own! No-one’s stopping you!’ he argues, smirking smugly to himself, and because he’d teased you so much you’re quick to shove the packet into his face, laughing wickedly at his look of surprise, before scrambling to get out of the hammock when he turns his narrowed eyes on you.

You squeal and cry out playfully when he grabs your hips, batting at his hands as you try to get away, and finding yourself getting twisted in the fabric of the hammock when you think you’d made it to safety, dropping unceremoniously to the floor as your feet fail to make contact with a stable surface and groaning when your knees crash dully to the hard ground.

When you hear his proud chuckle the urge to smack him rises quickly within you. But its just as you go to voice your complaint that he’s suddenly rolling out of the hammock towards you, dropping down beside you on the floor, and turning his head to look at you with a smug smile, his lips pulling back from his gums as his black hair flops in tousled mess above him.

‘Jagi...im horny.’

Its the bold way in which he makes his statement that causes you to scoff, the sound getting cut off when not even a second later he’d moved quickly to hover over you, his thump of his knees either side of your hips, and his hands either side of your head surprising you a little, yet also causing adrenaline to flood your veins in the most pleasant way as you stare up into his eyes that were full of excitement.

‘I’m serious, Jagi...lets fool around...’

The smirk he flashes you before he presses his lips to yours was the first breaking point for you; Jay knowing the look always had you weak kneed for him. 

But its when he smooths his hands down your torso, his fingers stretching over your body languidly until his palms spread against your hips, and the heels of his hands slowly stroke toward your core, that you know you’re not going to be ending that night without him getting what he wanted...

Not that you minded in the slightest.

‘Not the floor though, its too uncomfortable,’ you murmur around the kiss, experiencing an inner turmoil as you grab at his shoulders to pull him closer, whilst also wanting to move somewhere else so that you could really enjoy him, his hot breaths huffing from his nose across your face making tingles riot between your legs.

‘Sure thing, babe.’ he whispers, suddenly wrapping your legs around his waist, and you immediately get the hint, locking your thighs tightly around him as he picks you up, struggling to keep you close enough to not break the kiss, but you make sure to knot your arms around his neck so that you could continue crashing your lips to his, feeling the craving for him that usually awoke when he suggested sex rise within you rapidly, and the ferocity in your actions instantly increases as your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders.

‘mmmfph, no...I need you now.’ he huffs as soon as he takes a step in the direction of the door and he cottons onto your need for him, his comment confusing you as you go to argue that the bed would be the best place, before he’s suddenly letting go of you, and you yelp as you drop down, expecting to hit the floor, but instead finding yourself dropping into the soft...comfortable confines...

...of the hammock.

‘We cant do it here.’ you argue immediately, making to try and get back up despite your semi-folded position in the hammock making it almost impossible, but you’re stopped anyway as soon as you look up to see him removing his tshirt, his bronze skin glowing back at you as soon as its uncovered and captivating you with its beauty.

‘Why not? You love the hammock...and its got to have more than one use right?’ he grins devilishly, leaning back over you, straddling the hammock as he reconnects your lips, and despite knowing it wasn’t going to turn out well, you find your argument being dragged away as his tongue sweeps it out of your mouth.

‘Fuck. Its real bad, baby. I need to fuck you...now.’ he pants, his hands already having roamed under your tshirt to find your breasts, and you breathe harshly as his mouth moves to your neck and he roles and tweaks your nipples between his fingers, grip tightening and pulling with the more needy he got for you, and you keen quietly into his mouth, the sound enticing him enough to have his hips rocking forcefully into yours despite the barrier of your clothes.

‘Damnit, why are we still dressed.’ he mutters, retracting his hands from you momentarily, which leaves you to whine in frustration, but after a second of him hopping off of the hammock to strip himself down, he almost instantly turns back to you and pulls you so that you were laid sideways, eyes flashing with mischief as his fingers immediately curl in the waist band of your lounge shorts. 

‘I need you so bad, Jay.’

They were the words that always got him moving faster, tempting the devil in him which couldn’t help but roar excitedly at the offering before him, and so in less time than should be imaginable, you’re stripped of your clothes, and are left butt-naked on the hammock in front of him, just as he leans over you once more.

‘Damn, im so lucky you’re mine. ...You’re so fucking hot...beautiful...delicious...’ he whispers raggedly between kisses that slowly trail from your mouth to one of your breasts, the feeling of his teeth teasing your nipple causing you to gasp, but its not until you feel his fingers suddenly drift through your moist folds that were aching readily for him, that you moan needily into the quiet of the room which before had only been disturbed by your heavy panting.

‘Fuck...thats my favourite sound.’ he growls against your breast, the feeling causing your whole body to tremble in want as your hands clasp desperately at his neck and shoulders, the words to beg him to go further on the tip of your tongue, but not managing to leave you as you get lost in the sensation of his mouth suckling almost harshly at your nipple, and his fingers sliding from the tantalizing patterns they’d been tracing around your clit, to sink into you knuckle deep.

‘Fuuuuck...’ you moan, the word getting cut off as the air gets caught in your throat at the unbelievably delicious feeling of being able to tighten around him, although even coupled with the way he moves his mouth from your breast to bite possessively at a patch of skin just below your jaw as he begins to curl the digits within you, you already knew you wanted...you needed...more of him.

‘Do you know how jealous the other guys got when they met you for the first time and saw how hot you were?’ he pants against your neck between kisses, beginning to thrust his digits in and out of you as you spread your thighs as wide as you could for him, the hammock beginning to swing the tiniest bit in time with his movements and causing his breath to skim over your skin as he leans up a little to look down at you as he goes on, eyes pitch black with lust.

‘They’re always going on about how hot they think you’d look during sex, but i only ever laugh at them, because they have no idea....’ he states, his free hand now groping your breast obscenely as you writhe at his touch, pulling his head down to you desperately so that you could crash your mouth against his, sloppily kissing him and biting his lip in the process, which ends up exciting him even more than he already was, and causing him to withdraw his fingers from you just as you felt the stirrings of your high ignite within you.

‘No-Jay-’ you go to protest, just before you open your eyes where you’d shut them in your deliriousness, to see him stroking himself as he looks down at you devilishly, eyes raking your body till his gaze comes to a stop on your core.

‘You’ve had your fun baby girl...now let me have mine.’ he growls, glancing up at you darkly, before positioning himself correctly, and using the hammock to slowly slide himself into you, the sigh of fullness you let out sounding obscene in your ears, but its quickly swallowed by his own as it echoes around the room.

‘Fuck. ...how do you always feel like fucking heaven?!’ he moans, curling over you momentarily, his hands resting on the wall above you as he appears to get lost in the feel of you wrapped tightly around him, and you cant help but clench yourself teasingly as you watch his face through your light-headed happiness, smirking when his eyes snap open to look down at you and see the way you were teasing him.

‘If you weren’t so damn adorable I’d fuck you into next week.’ he mutters, as his hips rock quickly in repayment for your teasing, dragging a moan of want from you at the friction it brought, before his own smirk has you pulling his head back down to you so that you could lock your mouths together, your legs wrapping around his waist, and your heels digging into his back encouraging him to begin moving...

...and thats when you realized the true worth of the hammock.

Each rock of his hips is followed by a gentle swing of the hanging, which allows him to easily speed up the pace, the rhythm being tricky to get right at first, but after a few moments of you whining when he pulls away from the kiss to get his stance right, and a few practice thrusts, you’re tumbling into another realm of ecstasy as your grip pulses on him, desperately trying to hold onto him whilst you float away on a cloud of lust.

‘Ooh fUck, babe...you gotta warn me before-’

Your loud moan of his name cuts off any complaint he was about to make as you clench around him, your walls spasming happily as you pant harshly with the orgasm that rushes over you, causing stars to crowd your vision, and air to struggle its way into your lungs, your nails sinking into his shoulders desperately seeking purchase to stop you from getting taken away on the tide of your high.

‘I could-n’t...I its-’ you try to explain the overwhelming high of your orgasm, tripping over the words as he continues to thrust aggressively into you, the hammock beginning to rock wildly with his movements, until you feel your first high rush into the next and you accidentally whine so harshly at the sensation that the sound slips into a scream as you feel his shoulders bunch under your touch and his hips snap purposefully against yours as he begins to spill into you, the hand that had moved to hold your thigh being painfully tight, but not being able to filter in through the sounds of groans of satisfaction and pants seeking air desperately to rake into your overwhelmed lungs. Your chest continues to heave with the effort of coming down from your high, and your vision is so blurred that you barely see the way he slides out of you, instinctively responding to the feel of his lips suddenly on yours as he leans down to connect your mouths in a lazy kiss, before suddenly the hammock is once again swinging wildly as he collapses down into it next to you.

You smile languidly as he throws a leg over yours, the feel of the moisture beginning to coat in between your thighs making you feel slightly grim, but you’re too tired to move right then, even though you knew he’d be pissed if you ended up staining the hammock- although technically, it was his fault anyway.

‘I’ve achieved the dream;....do a whole day of hard work, and then come home to have sex with a beautiful, hot-as-fuck girl that is yours...’ he mutters sleepily next to your ear, his words making you snicker as you tiredly shuffle slightly so that you could turn onto your side, allowing him to curl around you, and his arm snaking around your waist as he sighs happily and presses a kiss into your shoulder has the all too familiar butterflies that he conjured in you battering at your insides.

‘I love you, Babe.’ he murmurs quietly, fingers drawing small circles against your skin, and you cant help happily laying your arm over his and interlinking your fingers as you murmur those same three words back at him, both of your minds thinking the same thing as you finally slip into the clutches of sleep.

You couldn’t wait to use the Hammock again.

THE END

#jay park #jay park fanfiction #jay park smut #aomg #aomg smut #kpop #khiphop #khiphop fanfiction

[afiendwithadream13]

Last words that left my lips to your ears....

"Hey... ya know, you're the best Dad I could've ever had"

You cried, and I wrote it off as you being emotional as always...

You called it passionate. I thought that was a cop out. Till you were gone and I couldnt feel you emotion... but I could still feel your passion.

Shoulda and coulda's are infinite. I'm supposed to be a man now?

Fill your big ass clown shoes??

Dude... how? Wtf man. Mom is broken in a way that I see preperation for death in her eyes.

Something I cant touch. I haven't gotten out in ages, Dad. Cannot stand walking into this house and you're not here.

I begged for silence for so long, between our screaming and poisonous venom spewing from our mouths, I just wanted peace.

Moms talking about her life insurance lately. She told me she needs me to take the money and move myself and buy property in Alaska. I dont think she realized I caught her saying something about me finishing Probation when she dies.....

That's only a couple years dad.... does she know something I dont?

I met a Woman. Well I didnt meet her but I think I have met her before.

Remember us talking about all the impossible things I want in a woman.... the things I gave up on ever having? Not like you and mom anyways...

Shes been taking care of my soul.

Not solely focused on my dick.

And I dont even need to explain what that means to me cause you and I have already talked about it a lot.

I definitely got your charm and good looks. But I've been attracting demons. And I'm dying. So I cant explain how refreshing she is.

That last one I had... i can only say I'm so sorry Dad. So sorry.

I'm so sorry she was anywhere near you when the doctors were screaming Code blue.

But I know you dont care about that. I do.

Anyways .... I sure did get all your endurance and perseverance if anything else.

My eyes have been blue since you left.

I only need one thing from you Dad.

They're telling me my memory is really damaged and that due to this illness, it will potentially get worse. It's not just one or 2 things. It's so much and it's all black.

Its teaching me to live in the moment because my daily memory has become so fragile. My acting skills are superb because I'm kinda out here alone and I'm not going to subject myself to the danger of not remember SHIIIIIT.

It's been less than a year since you moved on... and I know my brain will attack the features of your face soon.

I sit for hours and watch your slideshow of selfies and study.

I need you to maintain my memory of you please. How crushing this life is, especially in this head.

I still remember laying on your chest and not feeling the rhythm.

I still remember screaming but nothing came out of my mouth.

Did you fucking see me down there 😂

Standing like a Military Man beside your body as people took their turns crying over you...

People still cant figure out wtf I was doing.

I was a statue dad.

Cause statues dont feel shit. They are cold and solid. Long stare casting glares upon the world it looks upon.

I'm not a statue anymore.

I know you asked me to stay sober.... and I'm doing everything possible to get high as fuck on life experiences.

Sorry bout the recent arrests and shit. You know I hate those fucking pigs. Ya boy put up a fight But I suppose that mentality is what got me here aye?

"I met the devil in the hills last night. I was Driving by myself alone. He said boy what you running from? I said... I DONT KNOW"

Come to find out.... I was just looking into the waters reflection.

I was pretty set I would die this year.

Thanks for sending Her. Needed some reassurance. Better yet, I needed somewhere to invest all this Love you taught me... cause the worlds been trying to strip it from me again.

Aye But

ONLY LOVE KILLS THE DEMON.

I love you Dad.

[keevaroisinharkin]

Bullet in the Brain By, Tobias Wolff.

 Anders couldn’t get to the bank until just before it closed, so of course the line was endless and he got stuck behind two women whose loud, stupid conversation put him in a murderous temper.  He was never in the best of tempers anyway, Anders – a book critic known for the weary, elegant savagery with which he dispatched almost everything he reviewed.

With the line still doubled around the rope, one of the tellers stuck a “POSITION CLOSED” sign in her window and walked to the back of the bank, where she leaned against a desk and began to pass the time with a man shuffling papers.  The women in front of Anders broke off their conversation and watched the teller with hatred.

“Oh, that’s nice,” one of them said.  She turned to Anders and added, confident of his accord, “One of those little human touches that keep us coming back for more.”

Anders had conceived his own towering hatred of the teller, but he immediately turned it on the presumptuous cry baby in front of him.

“Damned unfair,” he said.  “Tragic, really.  If they’re not chopping off the wrong leg, or bombing your ancestral village, they’re closing their positions.”

She stood her ground.

 “I didn’t say it was tragic,” she said.  “I just think it’s a pretty lousy way to treat your customers.”

“Unforgivable,” Anders said.  “Heaven will take note.”

She sucked in her cheeks but stared past him and said nothing.  Anders saw that the other woman, her friend, was looking in the same direction.  And then the tellers stopped what they were doing, and the customers slowly turned, and silence came over the bank.  Two men wearing black ski masks and blue business suits were standing to the side of the door.  One of them had a pistol pressed against the guard’s neck.  The guard’s eyes were closed, and his lips were moving.  The other man had a sawed-off shotgun.

 “Keep your big mouth shut!” the man with the pistol said, though no one had spoken a word. “One of you tellers hits the alarm, you’re all dead meat.  Got it?”

The tellers nodded.

“Oh, bravo, “Anders said. “Dead meat.” He turned to the woman in front of him.  “Great script, eh? The stern, brass-knuckled poetry of the dangerous classes.”

She looked at him with drowning eyes. The man with the shotgun pushed the guard to his knees.  He handed up the shotgun to his partner and yanked the guard’s wrists up behind his back and locked them together with a pair of handcuffs. He toppled him onto the floor with a kick between the shoulder blades.  Then he took his shotgun back and went over to the security gate at the end of the counter.  He was short and heavy and moved with peculiar slowness, even torpor.

“Buzz him in,” his partner said.  The man with the shotgun opened the gate and sauntered along the line of tellers, handing each of them a hefty bag. When he came to the empty position he looked over at the man with the pistol, who said,

“Whose slot is that?”

Anders watched the teller.  She put her hand to her throat and turned to the man she’d been talking to.  He nodded.

“Mine,” she said.

“Then get your ugly ass in gear and fill that bag.”

“There you go,” Anders said to the woman in front of him.  “Justice is done.”

“Hey! Bright boy! Did I tell you talk?”

“No,” Anders said.

“Then shut your trap.”

“Did you hear that?” Anders said.  “’Bright boy.’ Right out of ‘The Killers’.”

“Please be quiet,” the woman said.

“Hey, you deaf or what?” The man with the pistol walked over to Anders.  He poked the weapon into Anders’ gut.  “You think I’m playing games?”

“No,” Anders said, but the barrel tickled like a stiff finger and he had to fight back the titters.  He did this by making himself stare into the man’s eyes, which were clearly visible behind the holes in the mask:  pale blue, and raw red-rimmed.  The man’s left eyelid kept twitching.  He breathed out a piercing, ammoniac smell that shocked Anders more than anything that had happened, and he was beginning to develop a sense of unease when the man prodded him again with the pistol.

“You like me, bright boy?” he said.  “You want to suck my dick?”

“No,” Anders said.

“Then stop looking at me.”

Anders fixed his gaze on the man’s shiny wing-top shoes.

“Not down there.  Up there.” He stuck the pistol under Anders’ chin and pushed it upward until Anders was looking at the ceiling. Anders had never paid much attention to that part of the bank, a pompous old building with marble floors and counters and pillars, and gilt scrollwork over the tellers’ cages.  The domed ceiling had been decorated with mythological figures whose fleshy, toga-draped ugliness Anders had taken in at a glance many years earlier and afterward declined to notice.  Now he had no choice but to scrutinize the painter’s work.  It was even worse than he remembered, and all of it executed with the utmost gravity.  

The artist had a few tricks up his sleeve and used them again and again – a certain

rosy blush on the underside of the clouds, a coy backward glance on the faces of the cupids and fauns.  The ceiling was crowded with various dramas, but the one that caught Anders’ eye was Zeus and Europa – portrayed, in this rendition, as a bull ogling a cow from behind a haystack.  To make the cow sexy, the painter had canted her hips suggestively and given her long, droopy eyelashes through which she gazed back at the bull with sultry welcome. The bull wore a smirk and his eyebrows were arched.  If there’d been a bubble coming out of his  mouth, it would have said,

“Hubba hubba.”

“What’s so funny, bright boy?”

“Nothing.”

“You think I’m comical?  You think I’m some kind of clown?”

“No.”

“You think you can fuck with me?”

“No.”

“Fuck with me again, you’re history.  Capiche?”

Anders burst our laughing.  He covered his mouth with both hands and said,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” then snorted helplessly through his fingers and said, “Capiche – oh, God, capiche,” and at that the man with the pistol raised the pistol and shot Anders right in the head.

The bullet smashed Anders’ skull and ploughed through his brain and exited behind his right ear, scattering shards of bone into the cerebral cortex, the corpus  callosum, back toward the basal ganglia, and down into the thalamus.  But before all this occurred, the first appearance of the bullet in the cerebrum set off a crackling chain of ion transports and neuro-transmissions.  Because of their peculiar origin these traced a peculiar patter, flukishly calling to life a summer afternoon some forty years past, and long since lost to memory. After striking the cranium the bullet was moving at 900 feet per second, a pathetically sluggish, glacial pace compared to the synaptic lighting that flashed around it.  

Once in the brain, that is, the bullet came under the mediation of brain time, which gave Anders plenty of leisure to contemplate the scene that, in a phrase he would have abhorred, “passed before his eyes.”

It is worth noting what Anders did not remember, given what he did remember.  He did not remember his first lover, Sherry, or what he had most madly loved about her, before it came to irritate him – her unembarrassed carnality, and especially the cordial way she had with his unit, which she called Mr. Mole, as in, “Uh-oh, looks like Mr. Mole wants to play,” and “Let’s hide Mr. Mole!”  

Anders did not remember his wife, whom he had also loved before she exhausted him with her predictability, or his daughter, now a sullen professor of economics at Dartmouth.  He did not remember standing just outside his daughter’s door as she lectured her bear about his naughtiness and described the truly appalling punishments Paws would receive unless he changed his ways.  He did not remember a single line of the hundreds of poems he had committed to memory in his youth so that he could give himself the shivers at will – not “Silent, upon a peak in Darien,” or “My God, I heard this day,” or “All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?”

None of these did he remember; not one. Anders did not remember his dying mother saying of his father, “I should have stabbed him in his sleep.” He did not remember Professor Josephs telling his class how Athenian prisoners in Sicily had been released if they could recite Aeschylus, and then reciting Aeschylus himself, right there, in the Greek.  Anders did not remember how his eyes had burned at those sounds.  He did not remember the surprise of seeing a college classmate’s name on the jacket of a novel not long after they graduated, or the respect he had felt after reading the book.  He did not remember the pleasure of

giving respect.

Nor did Anders remember seeing a woman leap to her death from the building opposite his own just days after his daughter was born. He did not remember shouting, “Lord have mercy!” He did not remember deliberately crashing his father’s car in to a tree, of having his ribs kicked in by three policemen at an anti-war rally, or waking himself up with laughter.  He did not remember when he began to regard the heap of books on his desk with boredom and dread, or when he grew angry at writers for writing them. He did not remember when everything began to remind him of something else.

This is what he remembered.  Heat.  A baseball field.  Yellow grass, the whirr of insects, himself leaning against a tree as the boys of the neighbourhood gather for a pickup game.  He looks on as the others argue the relative genius of Mantle and Mays. They have been worrying this subject all summer, and it has become tedious to Anders:  an oppression, like the heat. Then the last two boys arrive, Coyle and a cousin of his from Mississippi.  

Anders has never met Coyle’s cousin before and will never see him again.  He says hi with the rest but takes no further notice of him until they’ve chosen sides and someone asks the cousin what position he wants to play.  

“Shortstop,” the boy says.  “Short’s the best position they is.” Anders turns and looks at him. He wants to hear Coyle’s cousin repeat what he’s just said, but he knows better than to ask.  The others will think he’s being a jerk, ragging the kid for his grammar.  But that isn’t it, not at all – it’s that Anders is strangely roused, elated, by those final two words, their pure unexpectedness and their music.  He takes the field in a trance, repeating them to himself.

The bullet is already in the brain; it won’t be outrun forever, or charmed to a halt.  In the end it will do its work and leave the troubled skull behind, dragging its comet’s tail of memory and hope and talent and love into the marble hall of commerce.  That can’t be helped.  

But for now Anders can still make time.  Time for the shadows to lengthen on the grass, time for the tethered dog to bark at the flying ball, time for the boy in right field to smack his sweat-blackened mitt and softly chant, They is, they is, they is.

#rrp