he must really like his couch. look at him giggle

anonymous asked:

can you write me literally anything scriddler?? thanks

I’m shit at writing these two but at least I tried. I dub this work: Bathole.

Written to Hasley’s Hold Me Down which is a fucking great scriddler song oh my god.

****

“AND I FIND IT KIND OF FUNNY, I FIND IT KIND OF SAD, THE DREAMS IN WHICH I’M DYING ARE THE BEST I’VE EVER HAD-!!”

It had been the seventeenth time that week that “Mad World” and other assorted tunes of such a cheery nature had been blared by Edward through the asylum’s old stereo in one of the two rec rooms. The doctors and orderlies had done nothing to stop it, mostly because they enjoyed seeing the patients suffer from the safety of their mostly soundproof offices.

Jonathan was in the other rec room, thankfully, contemplating how hard he would have to smash his head against one the walls in order to kill himself and whether he’d be able to do it the first time round before the guards threw him in solitary. A stunt like that might mean Edward was revoked his recreational privileges which included access to the sound system so maybe the brain damage that would incur if he attempted such an act would be worth it.

From the other rec room, a commotion started. Enough of a skirmish that even Jacobs, the laziest guard in the asylum, looked up from his National Geographic magazine and took out one headphone.

Bang – Bang – Bang – CRASH!

A well missed silence filled the asylum, if only for a moment, as the inmates breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then an unholy shrieking rose through the asylum walls like a demonic beast clawing its way out of hell. There was another thud and the music was back, earsplittingly loud.

“IT’S A VERY, VERY MAD WORLD-!!”

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