#N word warning

[itspeekomeeko]

monokuma sings moshpit by Lil barnacle ai cover

Credit goes to my friend who made this ai cover, warning: this song contains bad language and the n word so if you're sensitive or offended, then do not listen to this ai cover.

[b1mbodoll]

gabi ‘m having thoughts about fairy!leehan. idk much abt fairy traps n things in the forest, jus’ that leehan would do whatever it takes to lure u into his realm so he can keep u forever and ever :( gets obsessed the moment he sees you out on a walk, twitches in his pants when you stray too close to his realm, dribbles pre all over his closed fist when you see the berries he enchanted just for you! he thinks you’re so naive :( anything could happen to you on these little strolls you take, you should be thanking him for always watching over you, protecting you. ur curiosity gets the better of you after passing his berry bush one too many times and u try one after an extensive google search to identity them. leehan grips his base to stop himself cumming seeing that juice staining your lips :( when the berries make you fall asleep, bind you to his realm and make you alllllll his, he carries you home. slicks his fingers up with honey and plays with every hole he can find, hooking his fingers behind the gummy insides of your cheeks, pinching and playing with your soft folds ‘til they slick up with something so sweet he wants to bottle it. gropes painfully hard to satisfy himself with the marks his rough touch leaves, abuses your skin with dark, blotchy bruises and drools all over you. jus’ imagine waking up covered in his spit and cum, all marked up by him :(( it’s all over your cheeks and eyelids, pooling in your belly button and every little divot in your pliant body leehan could find :( your nipples are so sore from his sharp teeth and he’s slobbering over your sensitive clit with his fingers curling experimentally in both holes :((( i don’t even know WHERE this idea came from but it’s haunting me it’s so hot and messy thinking abt being his little pet, having no choice but to let him experiment with your body while you sniffle and blubber about being stuck on his realm! jus’ imagine begging him to tell you how to leave and he looks up at you from between your thighs wide eyed n’ tells you maybe he’ll think about letting you go if you let him stick his cock into ur soft slick mouth and swallow his cum like a good little pet :(

pairings: leehan x f! reader

warnings: fairy! leehan + foodplay (the berry thing got me) + fingering + oral + squirting + somnophilia + monsterfucking (just in case)

💌: i think i’m going to pass out.. this is so delicious ‘m drooling

leehan’s cock throbs as he eyes the berry juice dribbling from your lips and down your chin, it stains your skin and the way your tongue darts out to lick the spillage makes him groan, his wings fluttering slightly behind him as lust clouds his mind.

it isn’t long before the enchantment takes its toll on your body; you grow sleepier, passing out soon after eating a handful of them and that’s when he makes his way over, admiring your beauty before taking advantage of the situation. he strips you of your clothing and it takes everything in him not to fuck into you immediately, it’s almost as if your wet cunt has him in a trance but he snaps out of it, wanting to use your body to play out his fantasies.

leehan kisses and licks your lips, moaning when the taste of sweet berries fills his mouth. he trails his tongue over your throat, stopping to suck hickeys onto the soft skin and he preens at the marks left behind, claiming you in his own way.

he kisses down your body, taking his time when he reaches your breasts, one of your nipples in his mouth as his fingers twist and pull the other, even palming your tit when he gets overwhelmed at the feeling. he’s never had the opportunity to touch a human like this and he’ll be damned if he doesnt explore every inch of your body.

the fairy grabs one of the fruits and bites into it, allowing for its juices to drip onto your pussy; drool slips from his mouth as well, a mixture of juice and spit making a mess of your hole.

he presses the berry against your folds, pushing and dragging it to spread the sweetness over your pretty cunt, eager to find out how you’d taste. lithe fingers make their way into your empty hole, coated in the wetness and leehan curls them inside of you, manipulating your body however he pleases.

the feeling of your walls clamping down on the digits is enough to drive leehan crazy, pulling them out and bringing them up to his mouth, cleaning his fingers of your arousal and you taste better than he could’ve ever imagined, swiping his tongue from knuckle to fingertip, savoring the flavor.

he grunts in annoyance when his fingers are free of the remnants, spreading your hole before eating you out; his nose bumps your clit as he pushes his face deeper between your thighs, tongue delving between your folds and slurping audibly to collect every bit of your mixed juices as he can.

despite being unconscious, your body reacts on its own; the pleasure causing you to subconsciously tighten your thighs and clench around his tongue. you whine softly as moans escape leehan and the vibrations are felt on your clit, sleepily tossing and turning the closer you get to your orgasm.

leehan thinks there’s absolutely no way he could ever set you free; not after tasting your cunt mixed with the berry. the taste on his fingers is nothing compared to the one straight from the source and his eagerness to make you cum sends you tumbling over the edge, your release painting his pretty face when you squirt for him.

hm, seems like you’d the perfect human pet after all.

[inkly-heart]

please don’t be sad little sprout, you are loved 🌱 🖤

🌱

[technikki]

BLAST IT TO THE BACK ROW!!

[from-beyond]

You guys the movie Threesome from 1994 is a new favorite. I don’t think most of the gay people on tumblr could handle it but I think it’s one of the most authentic and bittersweet narratives about the blurry lines in friendship, sexuality, and romance that I’ve ever seen

[valiantstarlights]

[Priest Hob AU sequel] Some Months Later, December 24, Evening.

Tagging @alexxuun because they deserve credit for the AU. 😊 I can't tag the anon who requested a sequel in an ask, but here you go! I hope you like it. 🖤

--

"I don't...I don't understand." Hob clutches at Dream's arm when he realizes where Dream has transported them. "Why are we here?"

'Here' was the corridor they got married in, months ago by now. Nothing has changed. The fourth window left of the door was still cracked, and the tile near the first pillar was still placed unevenly. Time has passed, surely, but Hob doesn't know the time difference between Hell and Earth. For all he knows, only a few minutes have passed since he was last here with Dream.

"To pray, I suppose," Dream replies, sounding amused at his question. "Is this what being in my presence does to you, Father Robert? Have you forgotten the purpose of churches?"

Panic flared bright in his chest. "No, please, don't call me that. You know I'm not...I'm not that person anymore. I'm your husband now. Right? Dream?" His heart was suddenly beating so quickly. Dream was looking at him strangely, all traces of humor gone from his handsome face. "Why are we here? Have you...have you grown tired of me? Is this you returning me to my old life?"

No. No. Anything but that. Anything but the crushing loneliness, the prayers that ring hollow when he recites them, the misguided belief that suffering brings you closer to heaven. That it is worth being miserable your entire life, giving and giving until you have nothing left, for the sake of having a place in God's kingdom where it would be more of the same: worshipping an absent, indifferent being, the air filled with songs of zealous, nauseating praise, fake beatific smiles on the face of everyone you meet.

Hob would rather die than live that life again. He would rather starve in the streets and die a peasant's death than leave Dream's side. If his husband has fallen out of love with him--

"Hush, my love," Dream says, and then Hob is enfolded in his strong arms, Dream's dark wings also moving to shelter him. Hob immediately clings tight. If Dream wants him to let go, he's going to have to break Hob's arms first. "I am here. I will not leave you. You are mine until the end of time."

"Then why?" Hob asks against the rich fabric of Dream's robes. He still sounds panicked, short breath coming in gasps. "Why are we here? I don't want to be here."

Dream rubs Hob's back comfortingly, up and down and up again, sometimes brushing his long fingers through Hob's hair, until Hob calms down. Until he can breathe normally again. Hob doesn't know how much time has passed, but their surroundings are undisturbed and not a single person walks by them.

And then Dream asks, "Are you sure?"

What?

Dream sighs but continues his soothing gestures. "I know you miss it. I hear you hum sometimes, when your mind is focused on a task. Religious melodies. Christmas songs, of late. I don't think you notice it, but some of the staff do. Lucienne tells me you must have wanted to visit, but are too afraid to ask me." He leans away from Hob so Hob could see how sincere he looks, but all Hob reads in Dream's face is the sadness in his eyes at the thought of Hob not trusting him enough to tell him his wishes.

"I do not want you to think that you can never visit again," Dream tells him, soft and a little vulnerable. "I do not want you to think that by marrying me, you have lost your freedom." He looks around them, at the high ceilings and the tall windows. "And so here we are."

"Dream," Hob says as earnestly as he could. "It's just a habit. I hum when I feel like it's too quiet. It just so happens that the songs I pick are...well. But if you enchant a violin to play by itself and follow me around, I assure you the humming will cease, or if it persists, then it would be to the tune of Mozart or Bach or whichever composer you pick."

He places his hand against his husband's cheek and watches as Dream leans against it before turning his head to kiss his palm. Hob's heart breaks at the tender movement. How long had Dream been worried about this?

"As for my freedom," Hob says, "You did not clip my wings. You unbound them. And since you have, I have never felt happier. With you by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything. You opened my eyes and taught me better. Helped me unlearn all the false teachings I grew up believing to be true. You have made me into the best version of myself I could ever hope to be, and I would not have anyone else by my side. I'm glad I'm spending my eternity with you."

Dream's eyelashes flutter in pleasure at his words before he leans in and gives Hob a soft kiss on the lips. Hob returns it with a passion, wanting Dream to understand that Hob has already decided his fate, and that he has chosen Dream. Will always choose him. Each and every time. Hob needs him to understand that. But how..?

An idea forms in his mind, and as soon as their kiss reached its natural conclusion, he pulls Dream towards the church proper.

"Hob?"

"Come, husband," he says, still filled with a giddy kind of joy whenever he says the title. "I want to make something clear to you."

Dream follows him.

A few moments later, the two of them stand in front of the door that would open to the main hall of the church.

"Is it empty?" Hob asks.

"Yes," Dream says. "The midnight mass won't be starting until later this evening."

"The midnight mass?" Hob repeats in shock. "Is it already Christmas Eve?"

Dream nods.

"Good," Hob says firmly. "Even better." He opens the door, and indeed, there was no one inside.

Hob marches them past the rows of votive stands, past the carved wooden pedestal holding the lit advent candles nestled upon a wreath of evergreen, and right up to the altar. Then, with only a moment's worth of hesitation, Hob shoves everything on the altar crashing down on the ground: the book stand, the large Bible it's holding open, candelabras with unlit candles, and a couple of flower vases. He winces as the objects make a dreadful amount of noise, the water from the vases seeping onto the pages of the Bible, the heavy book stand crushing the flowers, the candelabras dented in a couple of places, the candles placed upon them rolling across the floor.

"Is there a point to this destruction?" Dream asks behind him, sounding adorably confused as to why his usually mild-mannered husband is acting this way.

"No," Hob says, then turns back to Dream. He wants to see his husband's face for this. "I just wanted to clear the altar for my offering."

"Your offering?"

Hob starts to strip, and Dream immediately shuts his mouth, eyes darkening as he understands what Hob is trying to do.

"I am offering myself to you," Hob says, and starts reciting Dream's many titles. "--King of Dreams and Nightmares, One of the Seven Rulers of Hell, and my beloved husband. I would have you stake your claim on me in front of all the angels and saints, right at the altar of the god I used to worship."

Dream stares at him, now fully naked and slightly shivering from the cold air, his nipples pebbling. "You do not know what you're asking for, Robert Gadling," he says, though if the echo of Nightmare's voice tainting his is any indication, then Hob knows exactly what he's trying to do. "This would be unlike our marriage. Offering yourself to me in this way..."

"Can I be any more owned by you?" Hob asks, genuinely curious. "Am I not offering you myself, body and soul, so in the future you will not do stupid things like think I would want to be away from your side? Away from our home?"

"You would be offering yourself body and soul to me, Hob, this is true," Dream says. "But you must know that in offering yourself to me the way you are planning, naked and willing upon an altar, you are also offering to bear my children."

"Your chil--" Hob gapes at him and looks down at himself, at his own body, which is still very hairy and very male. "You can get me pregnant?" He asks, only sounding slightly hysterical.

Dream nods gravely. "And now you see why offering yourself this way to me would be unwise. However, I have noted your intention, and will try not to do...foolish things in the future."

"And if I want it?" Hob asks, unwilling to leave just yet without being fucked here, in the place where he went through life like a ghost, upon the very altar he stood behind and spoke words of faith while having none in his heart. He feels his cock growing hard under Dream's eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained. "If I want to become pregnant with your child?"

Dreams eyes are turning so dark, it was like the stars in them have started to go out one by one. The end of multiple universes. "Hob."

"I am willing," Hob says. "And while I am no longer a virgin, I had been when you first--"

"You should not say these things," Dream says in Nightmare's voice, stepping forward into Hob's space. The shadows were gathering around him and slithering around Hob's feet like snakes. "Not unless you want me to fuck you pregnant in the house of your god."

Hob steps closer until his naked body is flush against his husband, precome staining Dream's dark robes, then leans upwards so he could kiss Dream's and Nightmare's fanged mouth. They nip at his lips and push him back against the altar, the stone cold and hard against his back. Hob moans and twines his arms around their neck, letting them lift him so he could sit on the altar. "Haven't you heard, my husband?" Hob murmurs against their lips. "I worship a different god now."

--

"More," Hob begs, an indeterminate amount time later. Dream's cum drips from his hole and onto the altar, but still Hob spreads himself open. "Again."

Dream kisses him lovingly and obeys. Half of his face is Nightmare and the other half is Dream. He only gets this way when he's feeling so much pleasure that both sides of himself come out to play. Hob loves him like this. Dream is generally a gentle lover while Nightmare prefers a hard fuck. But both of them at the same time means petal soft kisses from Dream while Nightmare chokes him with a hand around his throat as his cock jackhammers into Hob.

"Insatiable," Dream says in Nightmare's voice as he thrusts hard into Hob. It's good that the altar is made of stone or else it would have broken under their vigorous fucking. "Do you really intend for me to breed you here? Are you not going to be satisfied until my seed takes?"

Hob moans. Yes. That would, in fact, be the ideal outcome. He spreads his legs wider.

"And to think you had been a virgin when I married you," Nightmare says in Dream's voice, possessive and fond at the same time. "Your hole was so tight I had to spend hours with my tongue between your legs to loosen you up. And now your body knows my cock so well you can take me with minimal preparation."

Hob squeezes him as much as he could in retaliation, though it was a weak little thing, his hole already fucked sloppy and loose.

"What a slutty husband I have," they tell him. "Uncaring that at any point now, the deacons and the sacristans will be arriving to do last minute preparations. I doubt they'll have anything to say about the mess you made on the floor, not when they see a former priest of this church getting fucked like a whore right on top of their sacred altar."

Hob mewls at that, aroused beyond belief. He knows he probably shouldn't feel that way. How he should instead feel humiliation flooding his veins at the thought of being found in such a position by the people who used to respect him.

But oh, to be found pleasing his eternal husband, undeniably marked with his teeth and claimed by his large cock...

"Want it," he gasps. It was so hard to speak and his thoughts are a scattered mess. "Show. I'm yours."

"You want me to continue fucking you in front of them?" Nightmare asks, delighted. "You want me to laugh in their faces as they wield their wooden crosses at me when they try to banish me? Shall I bathe them in flame and watch them burn alive when they do?"

Hob doesn't care. He could barely remember them anyway.

"It is tempting," Dream admits. "I want to see the look on their faces when they realize that Father Robert didn't just disappear mysteriously, but was instead granted a better life. However," and here he grinds harder to emphasize his point. Hob keens, toes curling and legs shaking. He has lost count of how many times he came, but he could feel the pressure building in his stomach once more. He'll probably cum dry this time. Or totally lose control of his body and squirt all over Dream. It's already happened once. "I do not want anyone else to see you like this. Only I should have that privilege. Don't you agree?"

Hob nods frantically. Whatever his husband wants. Fuck, his cock feels so good. Hob wants him to fill him up more until he grows round with his cum.

"No, I think we'll just leave them a nice little Christmas present." And with that, Dream wraps his hand around Hob's cock and starts stroking him to the rhythm of his thrusts. Hob practically seizes, wailing, cumming dry, as Dream pounds him harder through his orgasm before shooting another batch of cum straight into Hob's newly formed womb.

--

When the first group of deacons arrive to make the final preparations for the Midnight Mass, the mess on the floor that Hob created is not the first thing they see. Nor do they notice that the altar was desecrated by a truly overflowing amount of both human and demon cum.

They would have noticed these things, but Dream kept his promise and left them his Christmas present, to help make the church look more festive at such an important time in their liturgical calendar.

He did this by covering every interior surface of the church, from ceiling to floor, and not missing a single statue, with fresh, bright red blood.

[ceramicbeetle]

'Changeling,' she thinks about texting, wishing against all reason that it was here for her now. 'I went on a walk and got hit by a car. I came all this way, and did not even get to look through the stupid card packs. How is that fair?'

words: 12,865

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"Of all the things that happened there / That’s all that I remember."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[oloovia]

skin and bones

if i could survive off of happiness and smiles i think i would do it this useless evolution of requiring food causes me so much fucking pain. if i could live off of experiences and activities i think my heart would leap out of my body but the recklessness of calories and nutrients screw it all up. i think what bothers me the most is that it all stays it shows up and gathers in awkward places. my stomach, thighs, arms, cheeks, all things i wish i could cut off. i miss when my skin was see-through, when my friends called me a skeleton. they’d say it like it wasn’t a compliment. what they didn’t even think to consider was what if i wanted -no, liked- being a skeleton? my collar bones like sharp, jagged, mountains my arms so thin, my elbows jutted out like knives, and that oh-so desirable thigh gap. i miss when i got hugs and my shoulder blades dug into somebody’s skin i miss when my back looked like a series of bumps in a straight line and my ribs were wrapped up so tightly, they peeked through to say hello i miss when my face looked like bones and skin when my hip bones went out farther than my stomach when body checks consumed my brain and camera roll when the number on the scale mattered so much and the amount of calories were documented like a crime when i would pass out, skip periods, have my hair fall out all of which seemed horrible yet i wore them with a badge of pride. i miss being that skinny and skeletal. i miss my bones. i want to see them again.

[sugar-on-fries]

thinking of unblocking my opponents bc I lowkey don’t gaf that they banned me without reason anymore, maybeee

[cold-red-venom]

Disrespectfully,

YOU NEED TO SPECIFY WHAT KIND OF READER IS IN YOUR FIC AT THE TOP OF THE FIC OR IN THE TAGS

I REPEAT, YOU NEED TO SPECIFY WHAT KIND OF FUCKING READER IS IN YOUR GODDAMN FIC

Thank you.

[i-am-distressed]

Imagine like noritoshi comes out of his dorm in sweat pants and t shirt and everyone is like OMG HES NOT IN UNIFORM FOR ONCE

And y/n is just like haha let me love you 😭

👁👄👁

Anon u don't understand I would actually die.

I would collapse.

Combust, if you will.

Okay but imagine kyoto gc y/n specifically- cause like ohmygosh he looks like a normal teenager, and his hair is down and oh wow look he's on his phone lounging on the sofa in sweats and a t shirt and dear goodness is he well built. He just rolled his eyes at something todo said and yeah he does that like everyday but it hits different when he's doing it while he looks like he's just a normal 18 year old. Curse that t shirt for showing off what years of training with a bow does to someone's biceps.

And then BOOM- noritoshi asks her what she's staring at, and in a moment of panic she blurts out "uhm- A BEE!" and now the entire dorm is thrown into chaos because todo is scared of bees, miwa screamed which caused momo to flinch while she was cooking and now the kitchen towel is on fire. In an attempt to get the fire out, noritoshis shirt catches on fire- rational and quick thinking as he is he tears the shirt off and throws it on the ground and stomps on it- effectively stopping the fire. And causing y/n to evaluate and rethink the last 3 years because holy cow noritoshi is jacked but thats not even why he's attractive- he's smart and kind and- uh oh, is she in love with noritoshi???

[elifalvey]

4:26 AM. June 30th, 2023. Providence Peak Memorial Hospital.

Elijah wakes up uncomfortable and sweating.

The first thing that he feels — outside of frustration, since this is at least the third time tonight that he's woken up this way — is a throbbing ache in the back of his neck, and he reaches his left palm over his right shoulder to rub the area in hopes of alleviating some pressure.

Stupid fucking hospital chairs.

He groans quietly as he adjusts, moves his head to search for his phone that he left on the small table within arms reach. A giant, bold 4:26AM stares back at him as he finds it and unlocks the screen, along with a recent photograph of Aslihan and Alex in the sunroom back home, taken probably no more than three weeks before they came here that he set as his wallpaper immediately upon taking it.

He stares at the combination groggily for a long second, like all of his thoughts are still buffering and getting used to his new state of consciousness, and he takes a deep breath.

One that immediately feels as though it gets sucked back into his body as a wave of adrenaline washes over him, and he practically jumps up out of the seat before he can fully register what exactly he's doing. He takes a half-step towards Aslihan's bedside, sees her sleeping there, and stops in his tracks.

Thank God.

Relief. He gives breathing another go, and although it's considerably more successful than his attempt before, it's still shaky and full of leftover uncertainty.

Why wouldn't she be there? He thinks. Don't be a fucking idiot.

He doesn't make any effort to move closer to her bed, nor does he make any to stumble backwards to the makeshift bed of his own — he just stands there, in limbo, feeling uncomfortable and sweaty and a little bit ridiculous now. His eyes, momentarily focused on the rise and fall of her chest, drift to the monitors slightly above her head. He squints as if he can read the numbers, as if he knows what any of them really mean in relation to the health of his girlfriend or his baby.

They're alright, he tries to convince himself. Nothing is wrong.

"Just go sit down," he mumbles softly, like it's a thought that slips past the filter in his head. Despite his own reassurances, though, he can't bring himself to listen — he can't move, can't stop staring, can't convince himself that Aslihan won't disappear from thin air the second he turns around.

A different machine from the hallway faintly beeps in the distance, effectively startling him as he jerks a little in place.

"Fuck off."

Obviously, it doesn't listen. It beeps once more.

Stupid fucking hospital.

Breathing still isn't doing all that much for him, and ironically, he wonders if a cigarette will help — not that it has in the past two weeks that they've been here, when this exact scenario of on-and-off-panic-and-sleeping has become something of a routine for him under the moonlight, but he figures it's worth a shot (he says that frequently).

Finally, he moves in a middle direction. Not towards Aslihan's bed, or towards the chair, but towards the table to grab the pack of American Spirits he left there beside his phone. He gets as far as the doorway before he stops mid-movement again. He can feel a similar sort of adrenaline from before building up in the pit of his stomach, like anticipation, like when something bad's not quite happened yet but you're expecting a tornado to touch ground at any moment. He tries to ignore it, but for the second time, he finds that he can't move.

A drop of sweat falls from his forehead, cascading down his temple, and he wipes it away with an annoyed huff and turns around.

You can leave, he thinks. You've left before, you can leave again.

The rational part of his brain is clearly working overtime to compensate for the lack of cooperation from his body, but it's proven to not be enough to overpower him as a whole; a sinister, unwanted part of him chimes in.

What if she's gone when you come back? What if you leave, and she's not there?

He swallows air, feels another bead of sweat, and decides.

No, I can't leave.

Dark hues settle on Aslihan, and she hasn't moved an inch, hasn't even rustled underneath the thin blankets covering her, but he imagines his worst fears all too vividly. He imagines leaving, even if only for a minute, and returning to an empty hospital room. No, no. He imagines leaving, even if only for a minute, and returning to a room filled with nurses and doctors and beeping machines and so much yelling he doesn't know how to digest it all. He imagines her being here, physically, yet being gone at the same time.

The longer he stares, the more her silhouette morphs in his mind.

Her petite frame turns shorter, more muscular, and long, dark locks get traded for messier, looser curls. Brown eyes somehow become darker, almost black, and her skin looks rougher too — Elijah's looking frantically, still frozen, trying to make some sense of this.

The faint beeping that came from outside the hall gets louder, and more frequent, like the frantic sound of medical equipment that popped into his mind without warning before. It gets louder. And louder. And louder. The silhouette only becomes more detailed — the vague outline of a man becomes more personalized; he can see a crooked smile, and a splotchy birthmark, and a thin, pale scar just above a bushy eyebrow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harrison.

Elijah realizes that he's seeing Harrison in the place of Aslihan, sprawled across the drab hospital bed, attached to wires and machines and Jesus fucking Christ, why the hell is he sweating so goddamn much? Everything is so horribly clammy, and he reaches down to grab a giant fistful of his shirt. It scrunches between his fingers but he gains little relief from the motion, and the next time the sinister devil chimes in his mind it sounds a bit too much like him.

Don't leave.

There's a damp sensation — not just on his temple, but all over his face — and he's unsure if it's sweat, or tears, or an overwhelming mixture of both. His chest feels much, much heavier than it did just a few seconds ago and once again, before he even registers what the hell he's doing, he all but leaps in the direction of the chair across the room. He settles as far away from the doorway as possible, distress looming over him, as his knee bounces in agitation. He sits there for awhile, just tapping his foot on the tile, rubbing his palms against his legs, forgetting every single breathing exercise that he's ever been taught in his life, with his eyes trained to the bed only a few feet away.

I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving, I'm not fucking leaving —

"Is everything alright, Mr. Falvey?"

His attention snaps up to land on the door and he sees the young, sweet nurse standing at the threshold. He can't remember her name — Melanie? Tiffany? Kelly? — but he recognizes her face, having seen her more times than he can count with how much he's been awake at night. She has a smile etched into her face, innocent and unsuspecting of the chaos rattling against the cage within him. Her words are genuine, he can tell, and he almost feels guilty upon the realization that he can't exactly answer right away.

Glancing from her, back to the bed again, he notices that the silhouette looks more normal. More like Aslihan. More like she's actually in front of him, and not some sort of transformed manifestation of the fears he's been holding onto for years. It looks like she's sleeping. There. She hasn't gone away.

"Early morning, isn't it?" she speaks as the silence ticks on.

His attention snaps once more, but instead of silence, he nods.

"Y-Yeah, mhm," he interrupts himself with a cough, momentarily forgetful of his sleeping girlfriend. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. All good. T-Thank — yeah, thank you. Uh —" he squints to try and see the badge attached to her scrubs, but his eyes feel puffy and his vision is slightly blurry and he gives up way too easily. He nods again, like a final thought, and forces a smile to stretch on his lips. It must look horrendous given the state of him, but he can't bring himself to care. If she's suspicious of his answer, he can't see that very well either.

"Alright. If you need anything, just let us know."

With that, she turns on her heel and exits into the hallway, hopefully to check on some other patient's room somewhere, and Elijah . . . sighs.

He's not too confident that he can stand without an unreliable wobble to his legs at this point, so he just sinks further into the chair he previously placed himself in. He feels better — not good, or calm, or normal by any means, but better in that he's not actively hallucinating the figure of his dead best friend anymore. So there's that.

From the window behind him, he can hear birds chirping, the tiny creatures settled into the branches that nearly brush up against the glass. Soft sunlight slowly trickles in through the curtains. He has no idea how much time has passed since he woke up in the first place, but there's no shot that he's going back to sleep any time soon. He knows that much.

"Stupid fucking hospitals," he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. The back of his head thwacks against the wood of the chair as he throws the weight of it back, unable to even muster a whine of pain as the ache returns in the back of his neck.

As it turns out, therapy might not be the biggest waste of his time after all.

[jascnbrody]

i rly rly like the songs ice cube has done with korn. obviously. they did a good one w nas too. also i like this album listen to this album

if you don't listen to it I'll kill u

[patsypsyop]

donnie you are really making me want to read dog sees god. i love peanuts & when things are bad. will update you later this week

NOOOOOO I SWEAR ITS THE AUTISM ITS NOT GOOD AT ALL

[aito-mation]

“afab language” “amab language” KILL THE WHITE AMERICAN GENDER CONTRUCTS IN YOUR HEAD THERE IS NO SUCH THING !!!!!!