So the Jokers are Owl Seidou, Arima and Suzuya. Any word on who’s the fourth one?

Depending on who the fourth one is, I have a hunch what could be the connection.

i actually genuinely love those aesthetic blogs that are just like…pictures of artisan bread on distressed wooden tables and coffee and swanky, all white lofts with exposed beams and tanned girls with thigh gaps holding those jars filled with water and strawberries that i’ve literally never understood the point of. you know the kind where everything is super tasteful and colour co-ordinated and they’re all identical to each other. they are the most soothing things ever. i scroll through them while hunched on the couch, wearing a giant school leaver’s hoodie and eating instant ramen and every SINGLE fucking time i’m like “i’m gonna start getting up early! i’m gonna drink fucking iced macchiatos out of jam jars! i’m gonna change my life!” like it never happens but i fall for it every time. these blogs are magical


Hunching low, he pushed the last piece of furniture into the living room before he stood up straight, a hand pressed against his bare lower back at the strenuous work, even with the assistance of magic. But the deed was done. Their house was finally built along with all necessary furniture and accessories it needed. With a content sigh, he plopped onto the sofa he had just moved, tilting his head back. “We’re done..Gimme a bit to rest.”

Preference #2 “He’s Sick” Ashton/4

You wake up to a half empty bed and realize that Ashton isn’t there. You hear noises from the bathroom that sound less than pleasant and you immediately know why you woke up alone. You quickly make your way to the bathroom and open the door revealing a pale and very sick looking Ashton lying on the floor next to the toilet. Before you can say anything he’s hunched over the toilet, vomiting profusely. You quickly kneel down beside him and comfortingly rub his back, trying to soothe him at least a little bit. After a few moments he stops vomiting and he sits back against the wall trying to catch his breath. You wipe the hair off of his sweaty forehead “Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve been in here with you.” You ask him sweetly. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” He croaks and you stand up to wet a towel for his forehead. “It’s my job to help you ya know.” You giggle and he chuckles a bit. You kneel again and put the cool rag on his forehead and dab his face with it as he sighs with relief. But that only lasts a few moments and then he is suddenly grabbing onto the toilet once again. You just kneel next to him keeping the cool rag on his neck and simultaneously rubbing his back. Soon after he is leaning back against the wall again, looking completely exhausted. “Do you think you can go lay down again or do you want to stay here a little longer?” You ask. “I-I wanna go to bed.” He says weakly. You help him stand up and you let him brush his teeth before you help him back into your room. Once you get him situated under the covers you go and grab a bucket bringing it back to your room just in case. You make sure he’s alright before quickly leaving again to get a cold ginger ale and some Advil to try and help him feel better. You go back into your room and place the ginger ale on his nightstand. “Ash.” You whisper. “Do you want to take this?” He looks at the pills and shakes his head. You sigh, “Do you need anything then?” You ask and he opens his arms and pouts. You climb into bed and he cuddles into your chest. He moves his body a bit and you can tell that he’s not comfortable. He moves back a bit and you can see his face along with his glassy eyes. “What’s wrong Ash?” You ask brushing some hair out of his face. “I just really don’t feel good.” He says closing his eyes as a few tears run down his face. You heart just broke at the sight of him, knowing there was nothing you could do to make his pain go away. “Just try to go to sleep ok? I’m sure you’ll feel better when you wake up.” You say softly and he nods, moving into you again and snuggling his face into your neck as he soon drifts off into a peaceful slumber.

Yeah, I realize “dad comedy” is extremely passe at this point but my new idea for a show may be excusable. Take: a group of college or post-college aged people who are extremely entitled/inept/lazy/rude and can’t find a house to rent so they contact their parents for help. The parents enter the house with vacuum like devices on their backs (which never get explained) and inspect the house while their children are facetiming them and complaining about certain features of the inside. They also do this weird hunched running thing while they’re inspecting. Of course also there is an element of ghost hunting in this which does not seem to amuse the kids. 

Ficlet for NaLu Week, Day 3 - Transformation


Natsu’s roaring.

That’s the only way she can describe it. And Lucy has never heard this kind of sound coming from him. She’s heard him scream in grief, and in rage and in the heat of battle. But never anything quite like this.

His voice seems to echo. It’s guttural and worse than even Acnologia’s to her ears. Fire and magic swirl around his hunched form like a shield.

She tries to reach him a few times, after calling his name repeatedly fails to work, but she keeps getting pushed back. From where she’s half lying on the ground, she can see his profile, his face twisted in a snarl, eyes shaded by his hair.

And she’s starting to notice the changes.

At first she thinks it’s just her imagination, but when she looks closer, Lucy can see dark marks creeping all over what she can see of Natsu’s skin. Black, angry things, that remind her of Future Rogue’s shadows, wrapping themselves around his arms and legs and fingers and neck and face. And all of them seem to start somewhere around the inside of Natsu’s right forearm. She vaguely takes notice of his usual bandages in tatters on the ground. 

His usually bright pink hair is marred by ash and grime and blood, and there are two gnarly, horrifying horns growing from in between the rosy strands. His ears are now slightly pointy and his nails have turned into sharp claws that are as black as the night. Lucy thinks she’s gonna throw up. 

And then everything stops. 

The roar, the fire, the magic. Everything. And the silence is deafening.

Lucy breaks it tentatively (and against her better judgment).


The panting figure in front of her seems to only vaguely hear her. He raises a hand and studies it - its claws, the markings (which, now that she can see them clearly, look akin to rippling pitch black scales, darker than even Acnologia’s). Lucy inhales sharply and Natsu - or rather E.N.D. - turns his eyes to her.

And they shine like molten gold.

And the grin that spreads on his face is both malefic and playful, and it chills Lucy to her core.

“Yo, Lucy!”

VMon- Things you said from across the room

for justonetae

Happy Birthday Bailey. May you always have laughter in the midst of pain

“Don’t move!” Namjoon shouted across the room, arms splayed wide to keep him away. Taehyung froze, one bare foot in the air, shoulders hunched, looking around warily.

“Ooooooookay. What’s going on?” Taehyung asked, starting to wobble.

“I broke a glass this morning and I thought I got all the pieces, but I just saw a glint. Stay still.” Namjoon was on his knees note, tilting his head and squinting.

“Can I put my foot down at least?”

“Sure, just don’t take any steps.” Namjoon was running his hands along the floor, scooting slowly, clearing a safe path as he went. He stopped in front of Taehyung and stood, brushing his hands on his pants. “Alright. Now, follow me and only step where I step, you understand?”

“Understood. Follow the leader. Literally!” Taehyung smiled wide at his own joke, eyes disappearing in adorable crinkles. Namjoon stepped carefully and Taehyung was right behind him.

Right. Behind. Him.  "Taehyung, you don’t have to be so close,“ he said, squirming away from the press of Taehyung’s shoulders against his.

“But how else will I be able to walk in your footsteps,” Taehyung said, breath hot in his ear.

“Just look where you’re putting your feet.” Taehyung giggled but lagged a half-step behind. Namjoon squinted at the floor and placed his feet with care. They had only gone a few steps when Taehyung shouted and Namjoon turned to see him holding one foot in his hand, glaring at it with a look of utter betrayal on his face. Namjoon sighed. “Looks like you found it. Stay put and I’ll go get some tweezers.” Taehyung sat down with a grunt, still holding his foot in the air. Namjoon rushed to get the first aid kit and returned to see Taehyung tugging at the shard of glass. He slapped his hand away. “Quit it, you’ll just make it worse.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Taehyung said softly. Namjoon looked up at Taehyung through his lashes. Crouched down by his feet, looking up at Taehyung’s pout, Namjoon was reminded how young he really was, in heart as well.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry.” Namjoon gripped the tweezers tightly, tugging the small shard out and holding it up triumphantly. “Should have swept better,” Namjoon explained, rubbing a bit of antibiotic ointment over the tiny cut.

“Eh, I should have been wearing shoes.” Taehyung shrugged.

“And I could have not broken the glass, but look at us. Are either of those things likely to happen?” Taehyung shook his head and Namjoon was relieved to see his smile returning.

“So, now that I’m injured, will you give me a piggyback ride to my room?” Taehyung asked, waggling his eyebrows. Namjoon dropped his foot and stood quickly.

“Don’t push your luck.”

me: *is hunched over on the ground, violently punching the dirt in an attempt to trigger an earthquake*

Distort #41

Featuring interviews with The Hunches, Night Prowler and Aaron Aspinwall (The Repos).

Writing on Harry Crews, Repairs, Lost Domain, Waste Management, Factorymen, Jackman, Harald Grosskopf, Whores, Inservibles, Vile Gash, Schizophasia, Bits of Shit, Salvation, No Balls.

Cover art by Arturo Medrano.

Centrefold art by Shiva Addanki.

Illustrations by Elias Martinez.

Buy it here.

Local subscriptions ship next week, overseas week after.