ego big deal

anonymous asked:


they were PREPARED with spare bullets!!!!!!!!! yg came, yg saw, but in the end a.c.e conquered!!!!!!!! like donghun rlly didnt have to go in like that ………. first calling him out for being a hypocrite, and Then going on to be like, “oh we have two other members, the leader and the most popular, but they’re on the other survival show” like ,,, god they really did that!!!! IN THEIR FIRST YR OF DEBUT THEY REALLY!! Went for the jugular on one of the Biggest entertainment CEOs!!!!!! They Did That!!! i honestly cant even begin to explain how much i adore them and love them and im so proud of them and i hope junhee and yoochan are watching from wherever they are high fiving their new friends and bragging about how that’s their group!!!!!!!!!!111

When the lights fade out all the sinners crawl

Okay so this is only my second ever ego fic and it’s kind of garbage but whatever :)


*A churning feeling rolls in his stomach, a lead weight tugging at his gut. An ink stained hand runs through his hair and Flynn struggles to focus on the cool metal between trembling fingers, the unfinished doll sat on the table - anything other than the thin black stream trailing down his arm and sticking the hairs together. The toy maker bites his lip as he attempts to steady the thin bristles, resting his stubbly chin atop one hand.

Darkness spills across icy irises as the workshop door bursts open, the toy maker’s pitch black glare snapping up to the intruder*

D'you know how to feking read?

*Shawn snarls, rolling back his shoulders as if somehow that might rid him of the metallic taste creeping up his throat, the corrupted void that’s so much harder to control in moments like these. Blinking offers at least a moment’s clearance from the thin oily film, enough to make out a backwards ball cap and a deer in the headlights expression that fits Chase about as well as a suit*

“Haha, uh, sorry dude, was just…”

*The other ego trails off quietly, his gaze fixed on the toymaker’s as he backs out of the small room. A faint squeak accompanies the closing of the door and he can hear the clank of the “Working” sign knocking against it followed immediately by frantic footsteps and then…

…silence. An eerie stillness swells against the walls, pressing everything closer together around the few messy countertops.

It’s not until a few minutes later that Shawn once more lifts his paintbrush, settling into the numb agony of familiar and almost mechanically routine motions.

Move the doll.

Pull out the next one.

Attempt to brush slowly darkening hair back with one hand.