Dropthebeat127

For after all what is man in nature? A nothing in relation to infinity, all in relation to nothing, a central point between nothing and all and infinitely far from understanding either...  He is equally incapable of seeing the nothingness out of which he was drawn and the infinite in which he is engulfed.    ― Blaise Pascal, French philosopher, "Pascal's Wager" Author's Notes: [HEAVY manga spoiler warning, violence] An angst fic written (or spoken, should I say?) from the viewpoint of Bertholdt Fubar, and how his world is turned upside down when the Reader comes into his life.  Deals with alienation, dehumanization, self-identity,

    The first time Yuri ever stepped foot on the ice was a memory you knew and cherished so much. At such a young age, the two of you would skate together for fun even though you knew it wasn’t something you were good at. As each of you would skate more and more together, it was obvious that this was an activity that he enjoyed dearly. Soon enough, he was taking lessons to compete in ice skating competitions.    You enjoyed watching him skate, every day he skated the better he got which always fascinated you. Even if you didn’t dare try skating with him, you loved supporting him from the sidelines, being the one person to compli

“For the love of-! Are you trying to scratch my scalp off?!” “Oh, don’t be such a baby. The less you whine the quicker this gets done.” Jean groaned. Again. You were both standing in the courtyard next to the water pump, Jean leaning against the closest wall with his palms, head down and squatting ever so slightly so you could have access to the incredible amount of mud that had gotten stuck in his hair from his latest squabble. His clothes weren’t faring any better, mud drying all over the front of his shirt and jacket. Jean was thankful mud didn’t stain easily and could be washed out later. Ere

“You ready, dollface?” Al asked You smirked and met his crimson eyes.  Stretching your body over, you planted a quick kiss on his lips. “You know it, stud.” You replied The last light in the bank went out and the two of you moved simultaneously.  You slinked in the shadows next to your boyfriend, prepared to strike at the correct moment.  The two of you were unstoppable.  You were known around the country as phantom thieves and heartless murderers.  Well, you did the stealing and Allen did the whole ‘bashing-peoples-heads-inwards- with-a-bat’.  But who were you to complain?  You always got off the hook si

  [I think this would be called a lime? Perhaps not... I don't know XD Try playing "Pony" by Ginuwine. It's hilarious.] I walked into Alfred’s house, and the first thing I noticed was the loud music. The closer I got to his bedroom, the louder it got. I tried making out the lyrics the best that I could, but it was hard. “Alfred?” I called out. I got no answer. “Alfred?” I shouted. Still no answer. I knocked on his bedroom door. The door opened slightly, so I peeked in. I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Alfred was dancing in his room with a cowboy outfit on. He was doing body ro

  Theme Song – 2p!America x 2p!Male!Reader Warning: There’s a few curse words, but they’re all in the lyrics of the song “Stupid American Trash” by Innerpartysystem. Allen will be serenading you! ;) “We need a theme song.” I said and flopped down on the couch. “Speak for yourself. I already have one.” Allen said. He tossed his bat down and sat on me. “If you take off those shades, you’ll see that I was on the couch first.” I growled. “I don’t care. This is my house. I’ll do what I want.” Allen said and applied more pressure to my stomach. 

You hated spring. It was the worst season out of them all, you thought. For whatever cruel twist of fate, whenever spring would roll around your sinuses would be blocked something fierce, your eyes would water, and your throat would inflame and close up. Most nights during this you weren’t able to get any decent amount of sleep. Though, you supposed spending days upon days in bed with endless treats and Netflix was infinitely better than sitting at your desk for eight hours. That was a benefit, you couldn’t deny. Perhaps the only benefit. But the worst part about your sickness was the snarky information broker who’d follo

Stalked: Izaya x Reader (placed during Izaya and Shizuo’s high school years) [Y/n] scowled heavily as she heard a trash can clatter behind her. So apparently added on to her other more pressing problems, she’d gained a stalker as well? She glanced up at her tall blonde friend, who was also scowling beside her. “Shizuo-kun? Would that be Orihara-san behind us?” Shizuo’s already drawn eyebrows came together even more, showing his obvious anger. “Argh! Izaaaayaaaaa!” He whipped around and headed for the dark-haired shorter boy. Izaya squeaked playfully, before dodging the trash can he’d been hi