#my little scoundrel 👍

[weedlekaart]

i need help, thoughts on these?

i dont know anything about cat colorations 👍 other suggestions are very welcome 👍

[good-beanswrites]

A little comedy drabble for @kyanako5972 in return for their very impressive musical skills! (The Jailbreak mix wouldn't have fit together without ya👍) Fuuta gets his hands on some slime... They've done some art for it here :3

[I couldn't think of something funny enough, but insert broadway bootleg Milgram Slime Tutorial joke here]

Fuuta was open-minded. Of course he was. He was the most open-minded guy here. He knew that vengeance could come in many shapes. Sometimes it took the form of beautiful, poetic violence. Sometimes it was cutting words and a grand victory. And other times, it appeared as sticky craft slime. You just had to have an open mind to see it.

Not everyone was in as receptive of a mood. 

“A-are you sure it’s not a, a toy?” Haruka asked.

“It’s not.”

“B-but,” he pointed, “it’s --”

“No! It’s a weapon.”

“I don’t know if you know what a weapon is…” Amane looked down at the table. “You couldn’t have requested something a bit more… sharp?”

“Eh!? This is a pri-son. Like they’re gonna give me something like that. I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.”

To prove his point, he picked up his creation. The color wasn’t as flashy as the others’, but it held the perfect consistency for what he needed. It had taken some time to formulate the perfect plan of attack. There were rules he had to work around, after all. (No matter how open-minded he was, rules were rules.) There was a no-violence ban. Fuuta had already tested that one -- several times, actually -- and was sure he couldn’t get around it. Their requests were monitored, and it wasn’t as if he could go and order weapons. And then, even if he did get his hands on something truly dangerous, the original ban would stop him from using it. That left him with only one option.

“It’s definitely a toy. The others are playing with it.” It was true, Haruka, Muu and Yuno had their own colorful creations. Amane herself hadn’t grabbed any, though she sat with her eyes glued hungrily on the others’ projects. Her interest in it wasn’t helping Fuuta’s case.

“Exactly, it’s the perfect disguise! They’ll never see it coming.”

“There’s nothing to see coming…”

Muu poked at hers. “Look~ Mine’s cute and pink, see? I’m even going to add some glitter when Haruka’s finished with it.”

“I-I Uh, I think I added too much… sorry…” Haruka’s slime had lost all appealing texture, turned into a clumpy, sparkling mess.

Fuuta heaved the loudest sigh he could manage, but the others continued paying him no mind. He was doing this for them, shouldn’t they care? Es had slapped Haruka during his interrogation, for god’s sake! That was child abuse! Yuno was only a year older and returned from her interrogation with complaints of violence! And Fuuta --! Well, he actually hadn’t experienced any of that, but that didn’t matter. No hero of justice would let all that go unpunished. 

His moment came quicker than expected. He’d planned on ambushing Es coming in or out of their room, but they surprised everyone by coming into the common area. It was fate.

“I heard you all were playing with some crafts in here.”

Amane glanced at Fuuta. He shot her a look back that meant “don’t say a single word.” His exaggerated expression only drew Es’ attention.

“Something to say, prisoner three?”

“Yeah!” He wound up his arm. 

He had an open mind, but not necessarily a quick one. With more time, he could have come up with a righteous cry, something along the lines of: “this is for Haruka and Yuno, you damned scoundrel!” Or even: “meet your judgment, tyrant!”

But as the slime came careening toward’s Es’ face, the only thing he managed was, “fuck you!”

Splat.

The common room fell silent. Fuuta froze. The slime had hit its mark perfectly. It hit Es squarely on the side of the head. It splattered onto their hat. A good deal had tangled itself in their hair. It oozed toward their shoulder, clumps falling onto the uniform. As they tried to wipe it from their face, the material clung to their gloves, getting stuck between their fingers. 

Their eyes moved slowly from their ruined clothes to Fuuta’s still outstretched hand, to his face. “I see.”

They turned on their heel and left.

“That’ll teach ya!” He called out, a moment too late after they’d gone. He turned to Amane, who was watching with a mix of amusement and disappointment. “There’s no way that stuff’s washing out easy. Maybe they’ll have to put on a spare uniform in the meantime.” 

“You shouldn’t have made them so mad,” she said.

“Pah! What’s the brat gonna do? Name me guilty over it?”