(no subject)
guys.
I'm writing a Handmaid's Tale AU of KHR
With Hibari as Offred- or rather. Ofdino.
Dino is, of course, the Commander
Yamamoto is- Nick
Reborn is involed. As in Chrome. Mukuro. There is even yakuza in this shit wtf I- and there's Gokudera
There is genderswitch and fucked up AU and this is going to be so- crack. Except it's not really crack because dshdh ANGST
Reborn why are you in this thing
WHY IS THERE PLOT
/sobs
And uh, ficbit or something:
I let myself into the room. I'm not supposed to - there are a lot of things that I'm restricted from - but he has broken the rules already and I try to rebel as much as I can. Even when chained, I can still move; can still strain.
He is seated behind his desk. There's an ashtray on the table - my eyes are drawn to it and I think how easy it will be to brain him with it. It looks heavy, made of ceramic and none of it is plastic. His skull will crack, I think, blood and brain matter flowing into blond hair, muting that disgusting colour.
But I have been careless; he notices my gaze. His finger moves the ashtray away, into a drawer and I take note of it, slot the information inside my mind. He is my ringmaster, and I intend to break him; break my chains.
I'm writing a Handmaid's Tale AU of KHR
With Hibari as Offred- or rather. Ofdino.
Dino is, of course, the Commander
Yamamoto is- Nick
Reborn is involed. As in Chrome. Mukuro. There is even yakuza in this shit wtf I- and there's Gokudera
There is genderswitch and fucked up AU and this is going to be so- crack. Except it's not really crack because dshdh ANGST
Reborn why are you in this thing
WHY IS THERE PLOT
/sobs
And uh, ficbit or something:
I let myself into the room. I'm not supposed to - there are a lot of things that I'm restricted from - but he has broken the rules already and I try to rebel as much as I can. Even when chained, I can still move; can still strain.
He is seated behind his desk. There's an ashtray on the table - my eyes are drawn to it and I think how easy it will be to brain him with it. It looks heavy, made of ceramic and none of it is plastic. His skull will crack, I think, blood and brain matter flowing into blond hair, muting that disgusting colour.
But I have been careless; he notices my gaze. His finger moves the ashtray away, into a drawer and I take note of it, slot the information inside my mind. He is my ringmaster, and I intend to break him; break my chains.