Pico

RP Blog for Pico from Friday Night Funkin'! Follows back from @tinys-muses!

[funkin-merc]

Semi-selective, low activity, RP blog for Pico from Friday Night Funkin’.

Must be 18+ to interact!

🔫  RULES  |  DOSSIER  |  MUN  |  STARTER  |  VERSES  |  BF / GF BLOG   🔫

Follows from @tinys-muses​

[funkin-merc]

DM / Plot call for Pico and any of his listed verses!! Especially Soft AU, let me write my boy Mateo!

[funkin-merc]

Not that I have much Tumblr muse for Pico currently but…. Adds a Soft verse. Theres some deets about my soft verse that differs from the canon but nothing major. Toughie’s name is Mateo! Some art of mine of the boy is below!!

[funkin-merc]

[ Voicemail from Pico. 4:03 AM. ]

“Hey. I know it’s 4 AM but…” Sleep, or the lack of it, made his voice low and groggy. Each word rumbled from his chest. “I dunno. This is dumb.” Rustling filled the dead air as Pico rolled over in his bed. Fighting his blankets. Scooting Mac over so he didn’t feel suffocated. One part of him refused to hang up, the other screamed to end the embarrassment. Seriously? Calling in the dead of night? What was he doing? Frustration made him scowl at the ceiling of his bedroom. 

An entire minute of silence. He hadn’t forgotten to hang up. Pico’s skull was the backdrop for a vicious mental battle for those 60 seconds. Finally, a forced exhale. 

“I just... really need to hear your voice.” That kind of vulnerability made him cringe. It felt like peeling open his chest to expose his scarred heart. “Sorry.” He chuckled, a pathetic sound. So stupid. 

[ End of voicemail. ]

@songlost

[funkin-merc]

@songlost

Sad eyes and pitied looks. Distant figures darkened his bedroom doorway. Unspoken words hung in the air like flies. He wished he could swat them away. They didn't know how to help. Pico couldn't fault them for that. He didn't either.

It had been a while since the fabricated obituary posted. Pico was ‘dead’. Darnell and Nene texted or called nearly everyday, hoping he'd answer and tell them it was a sick prank. It wasn't. He couldn't let them know. This was all for them. Mercs didn't have friends. Especially when they were as rotten as him.

Pico refused to get out of bed right after. Only moving when he had to. No appetite. Ignoring his (found family) crew when they came to check on him. He waited for the moment where he’d magically stop feeling so he could move on with the next chapter or his life. It was either that or atrophy away.

"Pico. Ya gotta get up and do something. Anything. You won't get outta this funk until you get outta bed." Concern raised from the edge of his room.

A middle-finger raised sky-high was his answer. Enough to get them to leave. He laid there, coiled in his plaid cocoon, ready to stay until his metamorphosis into the carefree, stone cold killer he knew he was. Heavy lungs filled with a relucant intake of oxygen. When would the callouses cover his heart? Any minute now. C'mon. Please.

Tired eyes peeked out from his blankets. The world felt as if it'd come to an end but ... nothing outwardly changed, it was his same old room. Untouched. Memories ghosted every corner like LCD burn-in. His gaze settled on the console only a few steps away. You can't move on until you let yourself. Maybe he needed to distract his brain until he forgot how to ache.

Pico stretched out to turn it on. Just a little further. Fingers grazed the plastic case, centimeters away from the power button. Gravity took the opportunity to grab his shoulders and yank.

THUMP

Ugh. The ginger sat up, frustrated, and struggled to get out of the blanket he’d accepted as the mummification wraps for his soon to be tomb. Unfortunate that Egyptians believed the soul resided in the heart and didn’t remove it. He wanted it gone. His brain and other organs had definitely been pulled and jarred. His skull felt empty and he felt hollow inside. The only thing reminding him he was even alive was the dull, repetitive throb in his chest.

Once free, he switched the console on, snatched the controller, and fell back against the frame of his bed with a huff.

Wait a fucking second. Pixelated cherry blossoms greeted his scowl. This wasnt — Nene. She did this. That thought surged a sibling-esque annoyance before melting into sad remembrance. Well, there was no changing the game now. It was a stupid reason, he wasnt bound to it, but it was something Nene had done. That comforted a little. Like she wasn’t gone of his own choice.

She swapped his go-to FPS for some game he bought from a bargain bin. Pico sat on the title screen for a while, mindlessly watching the looping Sakura petals dance in artificial wind and drown him in pastels. It reminded him of her. With a sigh, he pressed A and started a new game.

[ ENTER NAME. ]

A small smirk. The first thing closest to a smile on his face in a long time.

> NARUTO SEPHIROTH

A strong, cultural Japanese name for this anime-esque game. Yep, he’s really feeling like a true protagonist now

[ ARE YOU SURE? ]

> YES

[oopsprompts]

“You can’t murder people just for being ignorant and obnoxious.”

“Maybe you can’t.”

[leneemusing]

morning after starters

“  last night was nice.  ” “  lets do this again some time.  ” “  i’ll leave my number.  ” “  i gotta go, sorry.  ” “  can’t you at least stay for breakfast?  ” “  i’ll make coffee—don’t go anywhere.  ” “  next time, maybe i’ll buy you dinner first.  ” “  if we do this again you better buy me dinner first.  ” “  i don’t think my legs work again yet.  ” “  i don’t wanna get up.  ” “  no don’t move, it’s too cold outside the covers.  ” “  there’s no way i can hide these marks…  ” “  this was probably a mistake.  ” “  this can’t happen again.  ” “  you always say that, and yet we wind up right back here.  ” “  are you watching me sleep?  ” “  you look cute all frazzled like this.  ” “  why are you looking at me like that?  ” “  keep kissing me like that and we’re gonna end up back in bed.  ” “  something wrong? ” “  i’d stay if i could, i promise.  ” “  so if i put my number in your phone, you actually gonna text me? ” “  i made breakfast.  ” “  how do you take your coffee?  ” “  fuck! i’m late—  ” “  did you turn the alarm off?  ” “  if you don’t turn that alarm off i’m gonna throw it out the window.  ” “  i can’t find my shirt.  ” “  babe, we slept in.  ” “  i know you’re awake.  ” “  i’ll stay.  ” “  why don’t you stay?  ” “  i like waking up with you.  ” “  i like having you here at night.  ” “  you know, if you moved in we wouldn’t keep having to say goodbye like this.  ” “  so when are we gonna actually go on a real date?  ” “  do i smell bacon?  ” “  you made pancakes?  ” “  come on, come back to bed.  ” “  you weren’t there when i woke up.  ” “  i thought you left.  ” “  do you want me to go?  ” “  just let me sleep for five more minutes.  ” “  you’re really beautiful/handsome. even if you drool.  ” “  you talk in your sleep, ya know.  ”  

ACTIONS:  1. for one muse to surprise the other with breakfast in bed 2. for our muses to go another round in the morning 3. for your muse to join mine in the shower while getting ready for the day 4. for one muse to stop the other from trying to sneak away 5. for one muse to invite the other to spend the rest of the day with them  6. for one muse to convince the other to stay in bed the rest of the day 7. for our muses to have sex in the kitchen instead of finishing breakfast 8. for our muses to spoon 9. for one muse to wake up with morning wood  10. for one muse to wake the other up with oral  11. for lazy morning sex  12. for one muse to wake the other because they’re having a nightmare  13. for one muse to distract the other from getting ready by kissing/groping them 14. for one muse to kick the other out of their home  15. for our muses to wake with no recollection of the night before  

[funkin-merc]

💗 from cherry!!

💗 repetitive lip peck kiss   |   Kiss Meme (accepting)

There’s only so much a guy can take. 

A ‘not date’ to the mall was routine. Cherry waltzed around, picked out what she wanted, flashed her dad’s credit card, Pico carried what he could, then they’d stop at the food court. Walking in heels all day had to be killer. The things people did for fashion. He was convinced she was trying to kill him. The multiple passes through Victoria Secrets said so. There was no where he could look without being embarrassed. 

At least his favorite part of the trip was here. From the moment their asses touched the uncomfortable plastic chairs an old couple next to them felt the need to chat. Cherry, being the bubbly personality she was, thrived off interaction. Orange eyebrows twitched. He hid a scowl with the thick straw to his smoothie. 

A world record was about to be set in this very mall; how many times a guy could roll his eyes in 10 minutes. Anytime the brunette turned to him for affirmation, he’d offer a nod. Just one. Nothing more. 

Maybe he was jealous -- and maybe you should mind your damn business. 

After literal-fucking-eons of small talk the walking dinosaurs stood to leave. Thank fuck. Go back to the museum ya crawled outta, he thinks. Now it can just be him and Cherry. 

That is… until another couple sits down at the table next to them. Oh fuck no. Slamming his smoothie down, he snatched a stupid travel brochure left on their table, unfurled it with a snap of his wrist, and held it up to act as a privacy screen. 

A rough hand rose to cup soft cheeks and turn Cherry to him. Her dumb face looked so damn kissable. His gaze lazily dropped to her lips, pursed and on the verge of forming a question. 

What flavor of lip gloss is she wearing? That’s suddenly the most important thing in the world. Pico had to know -- for science. Yeah. 

“Hey.” Kiss. “Pay.” Kiss. “Attention.” Kiss. “To me.” Kiss. One he holds for a second longer. Childish? Probably. Fuck off. Satisfied, the merc fell back into his seat and swiped his tongue across his upper lip. Strawberry. 

[sphinxmemesmusings]

Send a Heart for a Specific Kiss!

Send ❤️ for a romantic kiss. Send 💝 for a plationic kiss. Send 💞 for a awkward kiss. Send 💓 for a heated kiss. Send 💟 for a delicate kiss. Send 💔 for a interrupted kiss. Send 💘 for a static shock kiss. Send 💗 for a repetitive lip peck kiss. Send 🖤 for a forced/harsh/firm kiss. Send 💚 for an eskimo kiss. Send 💙 for a spiderman kiss. Send 💜 for a quick kiss. Send 💛 for an air kiss. Send 💕for good night/morning kiss. Send ❣️ for a kiss to a specific spot. <insert location> Send 💑 for a first kiss. Send 😍 for a surprise kiss. Send 💋 for a random kiss. <receiver’s choice>

[funkin-merc]

[ 🔥 ] pyrobeat​:

Pico expected a lot of things. Yelling, crying, betrayal, maybe even a well-deserved punch to the face. Immediate kindness wasn’t one of them. Stop. Stop it. Disgust rose in his throat like bile. Hands lifted to rip off the coat while lips parted to snarl something he’d definitely regret later, but Darnell’s voice cut him off. 

      No .. you’re gonna stay right here. 

That begging undertone stopped everything. Worn hands dropped, leaving the coat around his shoulders. He simultaneously hated and enjoyed how it comforted. It smelt like Darnell. Whatever he products he used mixed with extinguished matches and a hint of earthy smoke. 

Stupid. He felt stupid standing here, gawking at the ground like a scolded child. It didn’t help when his friend started in about his plans. I know, he wanted to yell. I fucking know. That anger wasn’t at him directly, just his stubbornness. How he refused to let go. It killed him to learn that Nene and Darnell had insisted on holding a service for him. That they met up every year on the anniversary of his ‘death’ to mourn and cope. Fuck! It just wasn’t fair. His hands gripped the edges of the jacket and balled it up. 

      I don't understand. 

I don’t expect you to, Pico silently replies in his head. He didn’t understand it either. It just felt like the right thing to do at the time. Rough laughter pulls his gaze back up. White eyes widen with horror. 

Those questions were straight out of the nightmares that plagued him when he dared to sleep. If he didn’t dutifully work himself into an exhausted, dreamless slumber; the night terrors came for him. Nothing about Darnell’s glossy eyes or grimacing smile were a dream he could wake up from. This was real. It was happening and Pico had never felt more distant. Spectating his own life unravel from afar. The beating of his heart against his ribcage flooded his ears. 

When he snapped back into his body, he reeled so hard he staggered back as if Darnell had thrown a mean right hook. The merc tugged against the desperate grip to keep his ghost here. No, no, no. Pico wasn't ready for this. Never would be. This is why he should’ve stayed dead. He couldn't stand watching hurt flicker like flames in those brown eyes, ready to ignite him. It burned at his heels and fingertips, smoldering regret choked his lungs. 

“I—  Darnell….” He sputtered, wincing at the lame sound of his own voice. No good answer came to mind. Nothing he could say would ever fix this. So why bother? A part of him thought. Just run away. 

Another pull. More desperate. A wild animal fighting tool and nail to be freed from its cage. “I don’t know.” The words came forced through a clenched jaw. “It’s what I’m good at.” It’s all I’m good at, he wanted to say, but he knew better. That kind of answer wouldn’t fly with Darnell. 

“Had to… I had to keep you both safe.” Guilt played his voice like a god-damn fiddle. Peaking and dipping in inexperienced hands. “I’m--” The words couldn’t come. Not as easily as his practiced villain speech with Boyfriend. Darnell was so much more. They had years of history. Pico finished the sentence by lifting the empty gun. He kept it pointed away but made sure it had been seen.

He kills people, pal. This gun has been the cause of so much death. His finger always on the trigger. So just, fucking, get it already. He’s wicked. Rotten to the very core. On that fateful school day he killed a monster but became one to replace it. That’s his lot in life. 

It’s okay. Really, it’s okay. 

“You can let go.”

[funkin-merc]

Me, looking at my extensive list of BF drafts: hehe pico

[funkin-merc]

[🔥]  pyrobeat 

It was never supposed to be Boyfriend.

Cowering, clinging, begging while an uzi pressed to his temple. The gun wasn’t even the reason for the visceral reaction. He had been pleading with Pico to stay. The hit turned rap battle was Pico’s reveal that he wasn’t dead like the media portrayed. It was also a warning to the other that Daddy Dearest wasn’t against hiring hitmen to get rid of him. 

That was that -- or so he thought. 

Boyfriend followed and broke down on him. Pico didn’t know how to react. He was a bad guy. Simple as that. The threat of gun violence should have scared him away. Sobbed beeps filled his skull. Little hands tugged at his jacket. It didn’t. 

       Click click click.

He pulled the trigger knowing the clip was empty. Might as well have been loaded. The reaction Boyfriend gave him was worse than murder. Pico had the luxury of dying multiple times in his short life. On the day of the school shooting. When he faked his death. And when he pretended to shoot Boyfriend to convince him he was the villain of this narrative. 

Well. He proved it -- and it wasn’t anything like he thought it’d be. The invisible weight of ‘being a good guy’ hadn’t lifted from his shoulders so he could be free and morally gray. It just felt like sludge sat in his gut and festered. What should’ve been butterflies in his stomach felt like flies circling something long dead. These open wounds were never going to heal. They’d continue to scab over and be picked at. It was his burden to carry. Why couldn’t people understand? How had he surrounded himself with such stubborn people?

Pico had to tear away from the sobbing boy. Body numbly stumbling down the sidewalk. Faster and faster until he fell into a sprint. No matter how far he ran, how many blocks he put between him and the singer, the wails followed. Hunting like a pack of dogs. He, nothing more than a fox, could use fancy footwork and wit in an attempt to get away but it was never enough. He could feel their jaws around his neck.

      Snap. 

In an instant it had been 24 hours. Shock refused to let go. The very gun that had been pressed to Boyfriend's forehead never left his grip. He couldn’t get his hand to unfurl from around it. It was stuck. The clip was empty but the weapon had never felt heavier. 

Life blipped in and out of focus. Stress switched on auto-pilot. Blink. He was strolling aimlessly through the streets at night. Blink. Sleep and hunger were shirked for hours of staring at blank walls. Blink. He was standing in front of a door. One that wasn't his own. The light coming from inside as it opened momentarily blinded. 

      Pico?

Distant eyes, fogged with trauma, cleared. Darnell. In his sorry state he’d taken himself to the stoop of his old pal’s home. Of course he knew where the pyromaniac lived. Pico kept tabs on all his friends. Sure, they thought he was dead, but he didn’t want to be truly out of their lives. Sending unsigned cards from unreturnable addresses to congratulate them on accomplishments. Anonymously surprising Nene with flowers on her birthday. Paying a black market fireworks vendor to set up near Darnell's route home around the 4th of July. 

The tug pulled him physically inside and mentally into a new mindset. Welcomed by the warmth of a properly heated home made him realize how cold he was. Shivering, even.

Emotions surged to the surface and tightened around his throat. Pico couldn’t stop staring at Darnell. There he was, after all these years. Standing next to him, even if he seemed upset, was so fucking comforting. Tears are for people who deserved to cry, he quickly reminded himself. People not like Pico. As cathartic as it sounded he knew he wasn’t allowed to. Bad guys didn’t. 

“It’s really you…” Useless words tumbled past chapped, blue-tinged lips. Of course it was. This was his house. He swallowed and let his gaze fall to the floor. Trembling fingers tightened on the uzi that hadn’t left his hand since…

He didn’t know what to say. This was the worst time to reunite with anybody from his past. The human part of him wanted comfort. It went to what he associated with that feeling. Darnell. Teeth grit in frustration. He looked and felt like shit. He faked his death for what? To come back when he felt a little sad? Pathetic. The merc turned in an attempt to backpedal. This was a mistake. “I need t’go.” Darnell’s vice grip stopped him from getting far. “Please.” A whispered plea. 

[funkin-merc]

daemuzi​:

❥    “ i said, do you lift? like – weights and stuff? or is it just all natural beefcake? “ she repeated herself like he hadn’t heard her – completely seeming to miss that he was just flatout confused by how sudden of a question that was. there was a beat of silence between them as cherry awaited his reply, curious as to what the answer was – but what she got wasn’t quite what she was looking for. 

❥    however, before she could open her mouth to clarify what she’d meant, pico’s hand was promptly smacked over her mouth to keep her quiet, and she didn’t move it – too surprised by the action to do anything other than blink those large eyes of hers at him as if asking hey man, what was that for? 

❥    his arm loops around her waist and she’s dragged back into the alleyway, and she can’t help but think, man dad really got me one of those good bodyguards huh? the type with hidden mics and grenades that they’d throw to make cool explosions! wait – does he have grenades and hidden mics? she’d have to ask him about that later! for now, one of her hands moved to place against his arm, softly squeezing it. yep, definitely real! she looked impressed, at least, as impressed as one could look with someone’s hand over her mouth. 

❥    pico mentioned someone across the street, and girlfriend finally seems to get what he did all this for. a soft mmm sound leaving her as he kept her from talking with his hand. not that she minded, it was all cozy tucked over here in the alley! however, after a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder .. who was it?? she was kind of curious about that, and that lead to her trying to poke her head out of the shadows to get just a quick peek. 

All natural beefcake. . . ? 

Eugh. The last word makes his skin crawl. It took Pico a second to recover from the psychic damage that did to him. “I ‘unno. Is all that,” white eyes not-so-subtly flick down before darting back up, “all natural pillow?” Hmph. Serves her right for asking such a dumb question. She deserved a taste of her own medicine. 

. . . . . .

OK, yeah, no. Immediate regret sunk its talons into his shoulders and stiffened them.

“I lift.” He tacked on in a feeble attempt to move the conversation away from the question. How do you say that without sounding like someone who drives a yellow, hitched-up hummer with a bunch of obnoxious stickers on the back? He cringed hard enough to look away. Some part of him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge, was flustered. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Her blinks were loosely translated Morse code. What was that for? Half-lidded eyes blinked back to answer. Shut the fuck up. 

Squeeze. Pico’s entire body seized in a trained reflex. The hand resting on Cherry’s waist tightened into a lengthy squeeze of his own. “StO-” Did his voice just crack? Oh god. “Stop.” Better. If Girlfriend listened hard enough she might be able to hear him screaming internally. The merc wasn’t used to soft touches. Being punched in the face or pistol whipped? Sure. Typical tuesday. Gentle pinches and honeyed voices? He couldn’t process such fuzzy actions. 

Movement yanked him out of his mental echo chamber. The curious brunette was trying to lean out of the alley, probably to glimpse at whoever Pico was talking about. Holy shit. Maybe slasher flicks weren’t so unrealistic. Dumb dames looking to get themselves killed with no regard for their own safety. “Hey--” He hissed, pulling her back against him firmly. “Quit that. You tryna get me to murder somebody today?” 

The occasional pedestrian breezed by the opening of the alley. The flicker of their shadow dipping into the path caught his gaze every time. Pico’s eyes met with one passerby. The look they gave him wasn’t good. The bigger picture of how the two of them looked exploded into the front of his mind. Oh fuck. It looked like he was-- 

Pivoting his body and pulling Cherry with him, he shoved her against the brick wall and trapped her in place by slamming both hands on either side of her. “Not. A. Word.” A meek threat. This is so damn embarrassing. He didn’t need attempted kidnapping charges added to his extensive record. I’m never taking another bodyguard job after this. 

[funkin-merc]

@miles-of-muses  cont from here!

His exhale teetered between annoyed and concerned. It was hard to pick just one. This was Boyfriend, he ALWAYS came out fine. It was infuriating, actually, how he practically skipped out of any situation smelling like roses. 

Shaking hands tightened on Pico’s jacket, pulling him back into the moment. 

Boyfriend was still human, even if he felt he was an alien most of the time. That’s where the concern came in. Nibbling away at his stubborn resolve. What if this time it’s something serious. But Boyfriend couldn’t be taken out by a little headache, another part of him yelled back, refusing to accept that anything less than world-rending could stop this guy. 

Ugh.

“Okay.” Pico muttered after a minute of silence. “Guess I can carry ya this one time. It’ll cost ya and I ain’t cheap. C’mere.” Scarred arms slid under Boyfriend's legs and back, hoisting him up with a silent huff. “You wanna go home?” White eyes trained on anything other than the blue boy propped against his chest. He was too close now. Residing in Pico’s personal bubble by his own choice. Such warmth was not deserved.  

[funkin-merc]

I was opening Pico’s playlist for background noise as I wrote replies and forgot I made this his voice claim. Enjoy 😏

[miles-of-muses-deactivated20241]

( from @funkin-merc ! For BF! )

👎

Meme || Accepting

👎 to catch my muse when they fall over

[🎤] His head was killing him. It pounded and ached, and it was getting harder to ignore and put up with. Boyfriend let out a pained moan, holding his head with his hands, eyes squeezed shut to stop the world from spinning around him. Motion sickness never did help when dizziness happened.

His balance was all off on top of it, and he would have fallen over completely had someone not caught him in time. Boyfriend opened his eyes briefly to see who it was that now held him, before closing them a second time with a soft whine.

"...Pico..." he whimpered, clinging to him.

@funkin-merc

[funkin-merc]

Oddities, things that threatened routine, never got past battle-worn eyes. Boyfriend had been acting different. Less annoying than usual. Concern kept Pico's attention leashed to the singer. It never strayed far. No matter how hard he tried to smother the feeling it never went away.

He didn't ask. He wanted to, but he didn't.

Boyfriend's body tipped forward. Further and further. Gravity planned on doing the rest of the work. Pico intervened without thinking. His arm shot out to loop around the other's chest, suspending him mid-fall. The whine earned an eyeroll.

"Fallin' for me again, beeps?" He teased, this was clearly the perfect time to get snarky, before gripping his shirt. He lowered Boyfriend to the ground and crouched next to him. Yeah. He was gonna make this as difficult as possible. More fun that way.

"What'd ya do?"

[insinirate]

when boys