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About | Headcanon | Tags | Rules
Other blogs:
Haematophiliac | Shayochism | Bannai
Google docs document

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// Moved to @utagau
Pain changes people.
(via zustin)
                           SoĐźeŃΚПeŃ,                 ПeĐźorΚeŃ ŃÉ´eιĸ oĎ Ń Đźy 
                      Aɴd            roll dowɴ Пy  
my aesthetic is looking mean as hell but being the nicest warmest person you ever met so you feel terrible for judging and become a better person thru it all

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I used to rebel by destroying myself, but realized thatâs awfully convenient to the world. For some of us our best revolt is self-preservation.
Mitski (via avidxreader)
[ when are they going to stop judging everybody and start worrying about the bigger issues ? ] . . . [ via pinterest ]
Quote of every other day
In a world with cruel weapons, an act of kindness is an act of rebellion.
Rebel // By @jackodyssey (via jackodyssey)

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mnstcrbnllâ:
ââŚtsk.â
How pathetic. Once again, he proved he was far too emotional.
âAnd I already told you. Words mean nothing. Not these, at least.â
Still, he lets go, giving a quick look to his Pokèmon for it to do the same. Not out of a sudden moment of morality, not because heâs convinced, of course. Was it pity? Maybe the knowledge that he would die anyway as soon as their plans came to fruition?       Maybe, both.
âYou say youâre willing to kill, and yet all you managed to do is kill my patience.
Get out of my sight. Do us both a favor.â
   With a breath of relief, heâs finally released, slumping off of the table and wobbling until his ass hits the floor. He sits there for a moment, head hanging forwards as he debates what to do or say. Continue to fight... Or succumb...?
   âThen... gimmea chance to prove myself...â He breathes, running a bare arm across his nose to wipe away some blood. âIâll do anythinâ. Yâknow this. Iâve always tried to make yâhappy. Until I got cocky as fuck.â
   With a sniffle, he stands up, shaking slightly before standing still.
   âJusâ tell me what I gotta do.â
mnstcrbnllâ:
âŚand there we go. Digging his grave even more.
Perhaps, this time, literally.
Kane barely has the time to finish talking before his former leader, now once again filled with anger found himself forced to keep in a yell. Instead, he simply moves his hand again, letting the Dorvilence know itâs time to strike.
Itâs not a proper move. Itâs not to hurt. Not too much, at least. All the Pokèmon does is sliding in the shadows before reappearing behind the other, moving its sharp tail around Kaneâs neck before slamming his head against that poor table.
âHave you ever considered, instead,â Debito hisses, standing up once again and grabbing the other by the hair, lifting his head just enough to make sure heâll have his complete attention âthat perhaps, youâre the defective one?
Out of all the grunts on this ship, nobody dared to even raise their eyes when I told them not to. Not even Radio is as rebellious as you are. You did nothingââ he slams Kaneâs head down again, before lifting it ââbut complaining. Nothingââ and again ââbut talking back, and even now that I allow you a second chance you do NOTHINGââ and again, pressing hard Kaneâs forehead on the wood ââbut PISSING ME OFF. But youâre right. Thatâs on me. A good leader shouldnât give more and more chances to someone who didnât deserve a single one of them.
I changed my mind. Donât give me a reason to bring you back in the Team anymore. You wasted that one too.
Give me a reason I should let you live, Kane.â
   Thereâs only a split second before the PokĂŠmon is upon him and he raises his hands to its tail in a futile manner, only for his face to strike the desk which in turn causes him to yell out in pain as thereâs a blatant crack heard. Blood soon pools from his nose and lip and he wants to cry so badly. So, so badly. But he refrains from letting the tears flow, even as Debs grabs his hair and looks at him.
   Defective. Heâs been called that before and it hurts as much as ever.
   Each time his head strikes the surface, he has to force himself to remain quiet, as much as he wants to yell, to writhe and have it stop. So when heâs simply left there to bleed out, he welcomes it, allowing Debs to press him down.
   He knows heâs pissed the man off. But what can he do now?! Heâs tried the strong tactic. Heâs tried yelling back and all that shit but it didnât work. He feels so helpless, useless, defective...
   âBecause...â He breathes, puffing to the side so as to rid his mouth of blood. âBecause...â
   Because...?
   âI jusâ... ... Wanna be good for yer...â
   Energy sapped, he feels like falling to the floor if Debs would let him, as would the PokĂŠmon, but he remains stoic in place, legs shaking so gently, eyes screwed shut. The pain in his face is immense and he wants to cry again. But he doesnât let himself. No. He canât. He feels like a scorned dog kicked to the kerb right now. Which he knows he deserves.Â
   His eyes flicker open, casting a glare at Debito from the angle heâs at.
   â... Anâ Iâd kill tâdo that.â
first commission of the year! thank u @utagau
commission for @utagau uwu
mnstcrbnllâ:
Should he be⌠surprised? Maybe impressed heâs finally showing some balls?    Bah. All he did was simply lifting a hand so his Pokèmon wouldnât attack after he dared to hit his bossâ table and raise his voice, staring coldly at the other.
âYou said that right. Once you had potential. Once you took down an entire base. Â Â Now, you spent most of your day being a depravate with people you donât even like, throwing mud on the name of the Team youâre so desperate to get back into.
Youâve proven more and more than youâre weak. Emotional. Unstable and unable to control yourself. You prove yourself to be much more than a bet gone wrong. Youâre a disappointment.â
He remains silent after a few seconds, after that. Taking his time to sit down and rub his eyes, before returning to glare at the other.
âWords mean nothing, then. I want facts. The proof that youâre more than the pathetic good-for-nothing you were for the past months.â
   âThen let me prove it.â Comes a simple sentence, a blank tone. âDonâ think me weak. Yâknow when I come into play I ainâ. Yâknow what? Maybe itâs yer fuckinâ discipline. Maybe thaâs why I became oh so fuckinâ WEAK. Because yâjust sit around in âere, wankinâ to whatever shit material yâfind, anâ donâ lift a damn finger at me! Yâtell me to scrub the decks? Oh no, big owch!â
   Heâs getting worked up again.
   âJusâ because I ainâ an emotionless cunt like yerself donât mean Iâm weak. Emotions fuckinâ suck but yâknow? Iâm human. Unlike some! I actually care for me job no matter wot yâfuckinâ throw at me. I do bad? I pay fer it. I know I should. So I do it. I actually fuckinâ do it. I donâ complain. I just DO IT!â
   A deep inhale.
   âOr did yâget so fucked over yâforgot how to be a good boss?â

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highrollingheirâ:
â Surely you have a home ⌠right? Uh, as for the manor, it has eight rooms with their own personal bathroom each, a front, side and back yard, a private car park and indoor pool. Not that theyâre really used all that much, I tend to keep the space for my PokĂŠmon to roam. â
   âNow thatâs somethinâ impressive, man. I live in, like, one lil room with a bathroom attached to it on a friendâs boat. Itâs nice but like Iâd love a huuuuge home like thaâ. I âave tâ wait until we dock somewhere before I can play with me âmons anâ let âem roam. Ya lucky!â
mnstcrbnllâ:
He keeps rambling. And rambling. And rambling, is that all he can do?!
âShut UP!â the leader finally snaps, slamming his fist on the table once again âYou really think you being drunk was all? That it wasnât simply the straw that broke the Cameruptâs back?! You may have bled and cried for the Team, but you also skipped your job, you also spent your days fucking every single person who breathed your same hair, you also got into fights with other teammates and kept complaining and questioning me every single time I repremended you.
Even now, all you do is standing there and coming up with excuses, stuttering like a fucking child!
I asked you a question, and I expect you to answer me without beating around the bush.â
With a quick movement of the wrist, still keeping his eyes on Kane, Debito let his Dorvilence leave the Pokèball, appearing behind his Trainer. Towering over him. Glaring at the other.
       âAnd be quick.â
   The yelling scares him at first, only to then suddenly fuel him with blind, hot anger. He clenches his fists as he looks at the ground, teeth gritting. Heâs been shit. He really has. But... But...
   ... But what? There are no excuses. No damn excuses. He feels shit all of a sudden, that built up confidence and anger quickly evaporating into the tension filled air. He hates being so damn weak. Well, physically anyway. His PokÊmon are strong. He can do shit. He really can. But he did slack of a little towards the end.
   ââcause yâknow I can do me work else yânever wouldâve made me a fuckin enforcer. I were great once. I can do it again. Did yâforget I took down that stupid base? That I destroyed it? Iâll do it again tâshow y if I âave to.â He starts, knowing that he will have to change some things about himself to ever be that good once more. Over the years he never realized heâd become so... so fucking soft. So weak and pathetic. Itâs making him cringe. Heâs changed a lot and he hates it. He almost wants to cry but know thatâs a bad option, plus it almost physically hurts him to know he wants to cry. That is pathetic as fuck.
   ââcause Iâm fuckinâ great, yea?â Comes a deeper tone, head jutting back up. He swallows hard.
   âBe-fucking-cause Iâm the damn best enforcer there can be when I stop fuckinâ slackinâ anâ fuckinâ around!â
   His hands slam into the desk akin to how Debito did it earlier.
   âI will rid myself of this shit, alright?! I will be better again! No slackinâ. No fuckinâ. No weakness! No whatever else! Iâll change back to how I were anâ yâwonât be fuckinâ disappointed!â