#Trypanophobia cw

[grislyintentions]

|| HC: Sting ; Kiss ||

Yaoshi has plenty of methods when it comes to dispensing their blessings to others.

One such method is to, quite literally, kiss the recipent and 'breathe life' into them. This is done in tandem with a sting from the ends of their hair (shaped like a scorpion's tail) to exacerbate the blessing's effects through modifying molecular structures with their 'venom'.

Most recipients compare the sensation of being stung to being pricked by an injection needle and anesthesised. Which is dangerous in itself.

They have also claimed that Yaoshi's 'kiss' tastes different, reflecting the taste of seasonal fruits and flowers.

[Yaoshi is designed to comprehend/appeal to humanity on a physiological level. They comprehend the differences of needs and wants, for they are the closest comparison to humans. But they can never/no longer truly *be* human or comprehend how it feels, what it means, to be one.]

[humanpotassium]

So I have pretty bad insomnia, and I ran out of my normal meds last night but I found my old jar of melatonin gummies... I KNOW okay, but I actually cannot physically sleep without help and I figured it would be better than nothing, but man was I wrong. My love for my current stuff is so much stronger now, I hadn't really noticed that I no longer had sleep paralysis but taking that melatonin sent me on the craziest cycle of hallucinations, then nightmares, and then sleep paralysis with hallucinations. Not fun at all. But good news is I picked up my meds today so no more creepy old lady's trying to stab me with a bunch of needles or just literally giggling from a dark corner of my room ...

Like a weirdo 🙄

[teaboot]

I hope it's okay that I took a screenshot, cause I felt that this deserved it's own post.

It's a good question, and as someone with a needle phobia myself it's one I have some experience with and feel I can speak on.

It's going to sound stupid, but it's this:

First, keep facing your fear. I personally elected to start donating blood, which sucked ass, but helped me get used to the feeling of having a needle in in safe environment, and celebrating the small victory every time I finished was a good motivator to keep going back.

What I did then was focus on what my body was doing. Was I breathing fast? Tensing up? Sweating? Going cold? Was I shaking? Where? Was it better to fidget, or hold still? Did closing my eyes help? Plugging my ears? I got familiar with my own physical reactions so I could start to separate them from my mental reactions.

Now when I experience a panic response, I'm not just objectively aware that my body is doing it's own thing- I genuinely feel that my body is acting on it's own. I'm stressed, but not SCARED, because my brain doesn't just know that it's safe- it FEELS safe. I'm emotionally strung out and on edge, but I'm not totally losing myself anymore. I can have a conversation while it's happening.

Now, sometimes I can see someone use a syringe for small procedures without flinching and closing off. Not often, but it's miles ahead of where I used to be. I can hold an epipen. I can use safety gear to dispose of abandoned needles outside my work. I don't think I could give myself an injection if I needed to, because I know I still lock up, but the idea of someone else doing one on me isn't viscerally repellant.

So... not cured here yet, but better.

TLDR: Baby steps, keep trying, pay attention to your body, celebrate successes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Taking steps to confront a phobia has to be a choice. Forcing someone else to confront their phobia when they ARE NOT READY, WILLING, OR PREPARED is incredibly distressing and can make things way worse. And with how completely fucking miserable and exhausting a panic response feels, choosing not to "just confront it" is a totally valid and understandable choice. Like choosing not to run a 100 mile marathon barefoot. If you find yourself tempted to trick or pressure someone into amateur exposure therapy, don't. I'll fucking find you

Again, this is just what's been working for me, but if you wanna try it, I wish you luck! ♡

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

I’m back in my silly nonsense again and I do have a request, if that’s ok, I seriously don’t wanna annoy or stress you out hun but I do have a specific request in mind.

A sadistic yandere doctor x reader

It starts out simple enough like the reader goes in for a simple checkup and there’s a new doctor taking care of them and it escalates from there, every appointment with the new doctor becomes more unnerving and unhinged until escalating to abducting his “patient” and keeping them to himself

I dunno this sounded better in my head and plus you’re more creative than I am😅 I had this lil idea for a while and I’d figure it was worth a shot to ask, thanks for putting up with my silly shenanigans 😅

CW: Abduction, drugging, obsessive yandere, former bully reader, foul language, trypanophobia and mild iatrophobia

I took this ask and fucking R A N

The line between hatred and love is much thinner than one would like to believe.

(Reader) sat stiffly in the waiting room, staring at their phone while scrolling, not paying attention to anything that passed their eyes. Time was not moving fast enough, and it felt like they were about to have a heart attack while waiting for the doctor, fifteen minutes past their scheduled appointment time. They nearly jumped when the nurse finally called their name, not bothering to offer even a polite grin to the nurse as they were led back to get weighed, praying to whatever was listening that their deodorant didn't fail them. Sweat glued their shirt to their back, but (Reader) refused to take off their jacket.

Going to the clinic was always a hassle, and if it wasn't for the pain in their neck that refused to ease up they would have continued to avoid it like the plague. The nurse brought (Reader) back to an empty room, and left them there again, now waiting on a paper sheet that crinkled obnoxiously whenever (Reader) shifted and was ten times colder than they were in the waiting room. (Reader) took a shaky breath and continued to scroll absentmindedly on their phone.

A soft knock at the door was enough to make (Reader) drop their phone, diving for it as a nurse wheeled in a cart. "Hello, dear, how are we today?"

(Reader) popped back up, flushed. "Peachy."

"Lovely." The older woman grabbed a chart and read over (Reader's) information. "I'm going to take a quick little blood sample and get you checked in for Dr. Campbell."

Their face felt cold with how quickly their previous embarrassment faded into fear. Both at the thought of getting their blood drawn, and in confusion at hearing a new name. "Actually, my doctor is Dr. Kowl." (Reader) tried to correct the nurse.

The nurse smiled brightly. "Dr. Campbell is our newest doctor, he'll be taking over for Dr. Kowl when he retires. Can you remove an arm from your jacket please?"

(Reader) slipped their left arm out for the nurse, holding in their breath and averting their eyes while she pulled out a clean needle. Even if they couldn't see it, just knowing that it was getting closer to their arm sent a rush of adrenaline up and down their body so quickly that (Reader) was afraid it would knock them out. They swallowed a lump of snot threatening to choke them, rolling their eyes back to look at the ceiling as they ignored the tiny prick of pain.

"All done."

The sleeve was rolled down before (Reader) turned their head, a tight grimace plastered on their face. "Great."

"Dr. Campbell will be with you shortly." The nurse's demeanor was warm, but (Reader) couldn't feel it past the cold crispness of her scrubs. Clinic doctors weren't as bad as hospital or ER doctors, but they still were not pleasant to be around.

• 17 years ago •

A chubby boy with dark curly hair obscuring his eyes nervously watched (Reader) from afar, working up the courage to go speak to them. (Reader) had a bruise on their neck, partially hidden by their hoodie, and the young man was worried for the stranger in his high school. Tugging on his baggy shirt awkwardly while shuffling his feet, he made his way to the sad looking teen, struggling not to lose his nerve. "Hey.." he struggled not to stutter. "I was just, uh, wondering if everything was.. okay?"

The look of loneliness and emptiness on (Reader's) face was gone so fast that the boy thought he imagined it, now only seeing disgust and rage.

"The fuck you just say?"

• Present •

A young doctor with wavy brown hair stepped into the room, his downward turned eyes widening every so slightly, a bright, welcoming smile contrasting his surprised gaze, as he entered (Reader's) view. (Reader) was equally shocked, taken back by how handsome their new doctor was. "How are we feeling today?"

Hearing that typical doctor's greeting paled (Reader's) complexion, reminding them that no matter how hot this man might be, he was still a doctor. "I, uh, got a pain. It won't go away."

Dr. Campbell nodded, gently touching (Reader's) jaw as he tilted their head, watching their face carefully as they grimaced at certain angles. "Have we already taken X-rays?"

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong. Urgent care said it was a pulled muscle, I'm just here for a follow up." (Reader) noted how the new doctor searched their eyes uncomfortably; it was as though he was looking for something specific. "Is there something wrong?"

The doctor removed his hands, smiling again, but this time the smile seemed disingenuous, almost melancholy. "I'm sorry, I just.. you look like someone that I used to know." His jaw clenched under his smile. Dr. Campbell swiveled away, rolling to the computer and tapping on the keyboard for a couple of minutes before clicking his tongue. "I'm sorry, (Reader), but it looks like something went wrong with the blood sample we just took. Can you roll up your sleeve for me so I can get a new sample?" He asked while already reaching into his drawer, grabbing a fresh syringe and three vials.

(Reader) sighed, frustration displayed openly on their features. "Really?.."

• 17 years ago •

"Cry, bitch!" (Reader) snarled, kicking the new kid in his ribs. His only real crime was not knowing that, despite the lack of piercings, (Reader) was practically the leader for the high school's most notorious delinquents. The only reason (Reader) hadn't been expelled was because their grades never dropped below an A-, and the school prioritized their placement as the second best school in the country over a few accusations of harassment.

"Hey (Reader), who's your new friend?" Nate asked while sauntering over with the rest of (Reader's) friends.

"Dunno. Hey new kid," (Reader) bent down, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and yanking his head up, "what's your name?"

The kid could barely speak through his sobbing. ".. Ichabod."

"HA! What kind of name is that?!" Lily cackled hysterically.

"From now on, I think you're going to be my new best friend.. ain't that right, pussy?"

His dark brown eyes couldn't help but fixate on (Reader's) neck as they glared down at him, the bruise shaped like fingers was so dark that in the lighting it looked like it was bleeding. "Well, that's the worse fucking name I've ever heard in my life. No wonder you're such a pussy.

• Present •

"I'm here for Dr. Campbell? I have a twelve-thirty about some blood results?" (Reader) grumpily muttered, pissed that they had to be back at the clinic only a week after their last appointment. Hearing Campbell's name, one of the receptionists smiled, fluttering her lashes and biting her lip subtly.

Her colleague saw her reaction and made a noise of approval. "That new doctor, he's quite the charmer, isn't he?"

"Stop!" The younger woman smiled harder, rolling her eyes. The whole thing made (Reader) grossed out. Yeah, the man was cute, but not when you're on the job. "Besides, he's.. unavailable."

"What? I didn't see a ring on his finger."

'They have forgotten me.' (Reader) puffed out their cheeks and patted their sides loudly, hoping the two medical professionals would get the hint and just sign them in.

"Apparently, he only became a doctor because of his highschool sweetheart. He said he had somebody whose 'attention' he 'wanted'." She sighed dreamily. (Reader) sighed also, but only out of frustration.

"Hey." (Reader) snapped, embarrassing the two receptionists as they looked to (Reader), mouths open like (Reader) was an apparition. "Twelve thirty. (Reader). Is there any paperwork I need to fill out?"

"Sorry! No-"

"Great." (Reader) interrupted the lady, heading over to the horribly uncomfortable chairs a few feet away. However, nearly as soon as (Reader's) butt touched the seat their name was called out, startling them on the speed.

They raised their eyebrows but didn't complain, heading back past the smiling nurses with disdain.

Dr. Campbell met (Reader) in the hall, sneaking up behind them. "Not big on smiling, huh?" The tall man grinned, feeling immense joy at the way (Reader's) face blanched and their muscles tensed.

"I'll smile for some good news." (Reader) forced a smile onto their face, the faux sign of friendliness not reaching their eyes.

He held out a hand as if to say 'after you', directing (Reader) to an open door.

• 16 years ago •

Ichabod couldn't look away from (Reader), studying their shaky visage as (Reader) barely held themselves together, teetering in the corner of the dirty basement. It was interesting, the first real emotion Ichabod had ever detected from (Reader) besides disgust.

Fear.

The group of 'friends' all drunkenly sat around Lily's older brother while he tattooed the minors in his dingy home. (Reader) was trying their hardest not to barf as the gun entered their friend's skin rhythmically.

"(Reader), check it out!" The dumbass child held up his arm, proudly displaying a jagged dog. "What'd ya think?"

"It looks like shit." (Reader) spat. The horror was masked by their hatred, fooling everyone except Ichabod. He stared a little too hard, finally drawing the attention of (Reader).

(Reader) could see by the look in Ichabod's eye that he saw their dirty little secret. Rage buzzed throughout (Reader's) body. "Why don't you give one to the pussy?"

Gasping, Ichabod went weak, experiencing something close to betrayal. He never felt an ounce of companionship from his 'best friend' but he was always looking for something from (Reader), he just couldn't understand what. Nate jumped up, launching towards the group's punching bag with sadistic glee.

(Reader) went blank, as they often did, showing neither pleasure nor anger as their friends closed in on Ichabod. "What about it? Since you're not fighting back, I take it that means you want one?" They paused, almost hoping for a reaction other than fright. But Ichabod was frozen, pleading (Reader) with his large teary eyes.

• Present •

"Fine. Hey Marty, why don't you write-"

"This better be the last time." (Reader) finally opened their eyes, too blinded by their phobia to question why their doctor's face was pink; why his large eyes were half lidded; and why he was smiling at them like they were the most attractive person he's ever seen in his life.

Dr. Campbell shuttered, eyes glazing over as he watched (Reader's) face contort, sweat beading on their forehead as the needle pierced their arm. (Reader) was so focused on not crying that they had no clue the look their new doctor was giving them. Being able to see this side to (Reader) was a privilege, one reserved for best friends.

"This should be the last test." His voice which usually oozed like honey quivered oddly, tickling a memory (Reader) couldn't quite recollect.

"Yeah, well, bit aggravating that both times I've gotten my blood drawn, something went wrong and it needed to be taken again." They pulled on their jacket with a huff. "Arm's beginning to look like a junkie's."

"Well, I do apologize for that. You can schedule your next appointment at the front desk. Your results will be in by next Thursday, we'll discuss them together then."

"Great." (Reader) left the room as quickly as possible, the agitation felt from being trapped in a doctor's office trumping how woozy they were. The nervous adult left the doctor behind, unaware of his erection hidden under his clip board. Dr. Campbell pocketed the blood sample, casually readjusting his pants through his pocket as he did so.

His smirk faded into something haunting, something damn near evil. "Last appointment, huh?" The doctor couldn't help but roll up his sleeve, his hard on becoming almost painful in the position he was sitting. A faded blue ink tattoo fuzzy with age and poor in quality marred his arm like a beautiful blemish.

• 15 years ago •

Cigarette smoke drifted up towards the gloomy clouds, the senior leaning against the fence that separated student and faculty parking lit a new cigarette as soon as the last one finished. Ichabod recognized (Reader) from behind, and found himself incapable of running and hiding, pulled in to his tormentor's side against his will. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of (Reader's) face, one eye completely swollen shut and their skin dark purple. Their one good eye stared at nothing, unblinking and dead.

(Reader) didn't look at Ichabod, knowing there was only one person dumb enough to approach them when they looked like this. No matter how hard they pushed him, he never stopped looking at them with that pitiful sentimentality. "Don't hang out with us at lunch today." Nate failed another history exam, and would be looking for someone to take his anger out on. (Reader) didn't know why they were sparing such a little bitch from getting his ass beat. Maybe they were just bored of him.

Ichabod flinched like he had just been hit, trying to will (Reader) to look at him, to explain themselves.

"Actually.. I'm done with you." They finished off their cancer stick, and dropped it into the gravel. "Stop hanging out with us."

"Why?" It was the only thing he could force himself to say.

(Reader) wondered why themselves. Would a therapist have been able to understand? See past their anger, their disgust? The only reason why (Reader) started bullying Ichabod was because he was new, and no one told him that (Reader) wasn't worth his sympathy. They knew he saw it, the bruise on their neck, and they could see it in his stupid face. And it pissed them off. Everyone knew-

(Reader) wasn't someone to pity.

Watery eyes threatening to overflow shook under the force of his tumultuous feelings as the baby faced young man got in (Reader's) line of sight. Even getting decked would be better than being ignored. But there was nothing in (Reader's) eye. He was invisible to them. "I hate pussies."

• Present •

"So, just a pulled muscle?" (Reader) grimaced, raising their hands in annoyance.

Dr. Campbell smiled, showing off all his pearly white teeth. "Thank God it wasn't something more serious."

"Great." Slapping their knees, (Reader) stood, ready to leave and hoping to never come back again. However, their body was stopped at the door by a strong hand gripping their wrist painfully, a deep scarlet staining Dr. Campbell's face and what was visible of his neck. "What?"

"Have we met before?" His face was smiling but his voice was on the verge of cracking.

"Yeah. Three weeks ago. When I first came in."

Long eyelashes nearly pushed his glasses off his nose. The doctor had (Reader) trapped in his arms at this point. "Are you sure? Are you sure I don't look familiar?"

The rising feeling of anxiety quickly morphed into anger, just as it always did, just like when they were a little kid. It took every ounce of self control they had to not knee the new doctor in the nuts. "Am I supposed to?!" (Reader) raised their voice, clenching their fists, feeling their entire body tense as it prepared to fight.

A laugh escaped him, jerking uncontrollably as he felt himself nearly cum just from seeing the old (Reader) trapped in his arms, unable to escape him, knowing that they were just masking their fear, just like that day in the basement all those years ago. "Thank you.." The look in his misty eyes grossed (Reader) out. "Thank you for not changing."

• 15 years ago •

"What?" Ichabod asked in disbelief. The office attendant spoke clearly but her words just didn't make sense.

(Reader) had been missing for nearly a month before Ichabod had the courage to ask anyone where they went. His tan skin had already begun to heal, the bruises left by (Reader's) shoes and the cuts left from their punches had faded. The only memory he had left of them was the tattoo on his arm he kept covered up. If he ever wore a short sleeve shirt it would be over, the pain would end, but he would also never see (Reader) again, and he couldn't have that.

"(Reader) doesn't go here anymore, sweetheart. They got their G.E.D so they could graduate early. One smart cookie, that one."

'But that's impossible.' Ichabod thought to himself. He knew (Reader), knew them better than anyone else. He was special. There was no way he couldn't have known about this. He was closer to (Reader) than their piece of shit friends, and that's why (Reader) hurt him! Deep down Ichabod just knew that (Reader) only hurt him because he could see them for who they were. No one else knew how scared (Reader) was. No one else cared about (Reader's) home life. Only he did.

Only Ichabod knew how terrified (Reader) was of needles.

Through the tears and spit, hiding his body from his parents so they wouldn't know what was happening at school, lying to teachers when they voiced their concerns about potential bullying, Ichabod had convinced himself that what he and (Reader) had was special. Because only he saw how scared they were. He told himself that it wasn't because no one else cared about the "future criminal", but because he was special to (Reader), and only he was allowed to see them vulnerable. That was a privilege for best friends only.

'Was it because I didn't give them enough attention?'

He walked through the hallway without a limp, without a hunched back, just like a normal student. It disgusted him. The walls were plastered with students' artwork, motivational posters, and recruitment ads. A smiling man in a white lab coat caught Ichabod's attention, pulling him out of his dark emptiness and showing him the solution to his problem.

"I'll make you see me."

• Present •

"Stupid son of a bitch!" (Reader) moved at a fast pace through the parking garage, nearly jogging to their truck. They had been doing so well, such a good job, but one moment in a stranger's arms and their mind was invaded by a voice they hadn't thought about in almost a year.

Their mother's words tumbled from their lips as they fished for their keys, shaking with apprehension disgust. "Fucking coward, fucking pussy, goddamnit, good for nothing-"

The old familiar tingling of adrenaline, the need to punch something.

Reaching their truck didn't provide any relief. The keys they were searching for kept evading their fingers as though they had a mind of their own. In the black of their tinted window another figure approached their reflection. (Reader) angrily whipped around, ready to start swinging. Behind them stood Dr. Campbell, wearing a baby blue short sleeved polo tucked into a pair of black slacks. The collared shirt exposed his muscular arms and accentuated his broad shoulders. He would have been so attractive if (Reader) didn't know what he looked like in a lab coat.

"I'm glad I caught you! I didn't have a chance to apologize in there, you rushed off before I could explain myself."

"Don't make up excuses for being a pervert." (Reader) snarled, ready to lash out like a cornered animal. They still couldn't feel the keys in their pocket.

The man smiled so sweetly at (Reader) that it made them want to bite him. "It really hurt my feelings. I thought that maybe you just didn't remember me." His eyes looked down at his feet, but he wasn't an actor, and (Reader) could see plainly that there wasn't a drop of sadness in the man before them. "But I guess.. I do look different than I did back in highschool."

His right hand reached out towards (Reader) to caress their cheek. They almost smacked him away, but a small, shitty tattoo on his arm drained them of their blood faster than a gun shot wound, feeling their bravado leak out of them so quickly that they didn't have time to remember to be pissed.

(READER'S) BITCH

Before they could recover and throw the first punch the hand clamped over their mouth, and a needle was revealed from behind his back in the other hand.

They struggled, but Ichabod hadn't spent his years in med school working out to impress (Reader). Eyes wide with horror watched the needle approach their neck helplessly, and Ichabod could almost cry at the beautiful sight before him. The fear that only he was able to see, only he was allowed to experience, God he could have fucked them right there and then, but he controlled himself. This had all been planned out, and he couldn't fuck it up just because (Reader) was shaking beneath him so cutely.

The needle went into their neck, injecting a drug to knock them out for a few hours. (Reader) screamed silently into his palm, and he watched as they recognized the adoration in his eyes with terror. (Reader's) keys were pulled out from Ichabod's back pocket, dangling teasingly in front of (Reader's) face as they went limp. "You said you hated pussies." His smile was mocking as (Reader) went dark, unable to stay awake. There was so much they wanted to say. They wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. To tell him he wasn't a pussy, that they were never speaking to him when they called him that.

They didn't understand why he looked down at them so kindly. (Reader) hoped that if he killed them it would be a swift death. They felt that they deserved it after all this time.

What he had in store for them was much, much worse than death.

[harveylikestoart]

Welcome to Leon’s Medical Malpractice how may we help you?

[selfshipsnail]

thre he goes :0]] doodling him at therapy

IMSCREAMIGNGGG AAAHHHH?!!1) HE IS SO CUTESIT

I gluvgluv how you drew him WAHDHWH he’s gonna make sure that User gets their checkup shots!!!! (it’s concentrated serotonin in a syringe) Thank u so much this made me smile soso much :-) ANDBWHWG im picturing his voice saying it and my brain is melting /pos

[strawbbydraws]

Another pixel piece I did back in the day

This one was made for a contest iirc…

[angels-playspace]

gots m blud dwaw!!! it was SOOPER SCAWEE n weelee huwt BU I DIDS IT!!! madez me feel weel bad bu got wawa n dat make m betta. i also told mama bout m pacees n se was okee wi it, n even ncuriged i use it duwin da bud daw!!

[luv-n-chaos]

Galaxy is Anxious!

I've gotta get blood drawn today and I have severe trypanophobia wish me luck y'all ToT

[yamishimadness]

Wedding Veil of Vengeance

"Never worn"

...By le intended party, at least; fun fact, this is le piece that started this whole thing but it wasnt done first cuz jfirmrkerk9ekroe

Also, someone made a comeback... in a dif font but- X"P

[eventhorizoninwriting]

Crawl Out Through The Fallout

Word count: 2114

Tags: Cooper Howard/Reader, preghoul!Cooper, Bombs Drop Day.

Warnings: Self-sutures, alcohol as sanitizer, blood. If I missed any, let me know!

@whumperless-whump-event prompt 1: Emergency First Aid

Terror shredded your throat as you sprinted down the sidewalk of that perfect suburban neighborhood. Green grass, perfectly trimmed hedges, shady trees; all of it passed in a blur. Sprinklers ticked back and forth relentlessly, counting down with every spit of water over the sunlit green. Bees and mosquitoes hummed lazily in slow streams of sunlight, a requiem for all the autumns before.

Your ears ached to bleed with the pure cacophony around you. Tires squealed on the pavement as pastel beetle-shell-shined cars tore out of driveways, as other drivers swerved to avoid them. They yelled at each other from their rolled-down windows, but there was no anger in their voices. Somewhere down the street, a small child in a pink dress screamed and cried, not understanding the chaos that had erupted; just upset that her teddy bear had fallen on the sidewalk when she’d been scooped up and bundled into the family car.

Above it all, the sirens howled. Like angels of steel and gears, they trumpeted the announcement that everyone had feared hearing for years; the true end of days, heralded by nuclear fire. 

Attention citizens. Nuclear strike imminent. Please exit the area at your earliest convenience. Thank  you for your cooperation.

The announcement rang in your head, repeated by every radio station in every car that zipped past. Yet still you ran, determined to get home before the strike. Was that blood you tasted? Shoving through the garden gate, you raced to the back of your little blue home of the future. Truly, it was; the heavy,  lead-lined doors to your backyard bunker sat nestled at its foundation, under landscaping plants whose pruning had been optimistically neglected. 

A pained groan came from behind you as you gripped the bunker door handle. 

Turning slowly, you half expected to see someone standing there, perhaps beaten by the crowd, ready to ransom you your own bunker. Instead, a bloodied cowboy in gold and blue lay defeated in the hedge, as if he’d been discarded over the fence. Your eyes met his, and he feebly lifted his hands in a show of surrender.

“Just leave me here,” he croaked. “I won’t fault you for that.” 

Time froze. You couldn’t just leave him there. But if you tried to save him...was there time? Could you get him to the bunker too? Could you get yourself inside in time after? 

The ground shook under your feet, and the backyard vanished in white. Burying your eyes in the crook of your elbow, you prayed you hadn’t gone blind. The impact, the flash…

Dropping the handle, you raced towards where the cowboy had been with your eyes shut. The hedge came up faster than you’d anticipated, and you crashed into it, hands searching for him. A leg, a torso–his hand found yours. Dragging him out of the bush, you pulled him back the way you’d come. Your vision swam with black dots as you blinked, but you just barely made out the shape and color of the bunker door. You guided his hands to the handle. 

“Help me get this open!” 

Both of you pulled, and it swung open with a creak. 

A low rustle began to grow in volume as wind sped towards you. 

“I’m sorry,” you shouted over the rising howl.

“For what?” 

With a hard shove of your shoulder, you pushed him down into the bunker opening. 

The shockwave slammed into you with the force of a speeding truck, sending you flying. Your back cracked against the side of your white picket fence when you landed, and you found yourself unable to move against the tide of air. Debris crashed into your body; most of it dry leaves and dirt, but bits of metal and concrete stung your skin where they hit. It felt like forever, but the shockwave passed in less than a minute. 

Through your bleary eyes, an orange mushroom cloud curled over the neighborhood from its downtown epicenter.

Every warning you’d seen in recent years about nuclear safety came back to you. First comes the impact and light, then the shockwave…

Then the fallout. 

The pain in your body was only challenged by the fear of the radiation that would surely be falling from the sky any minute. Shoving off the ground, you stumbled towards the bunker, every step a marathon. You’d never felt anything better than the cool metal of the door under your hand. 

“You all right?” The cowboy had arrived somewhere in your blinded periphery. His hands guided you by the arm onto the ladder down, a courtesy you hadn’t afforded him. Darkness momentarily clouded your eyes with a heavy thud as he closed the bunker door behind you. Slowly, your eyes adjusted to the bunker, and the small lamp set out on the metal table.

“I’m fine.” Hands out and searching, you felt your way to a sleeping bag you’d left on the thrifted couch that you’d dragged in months ago. You flopped down on it gratefully, still gasping for breath. “I’ve had worse.” “Well, I’m hard pressed to believe that,” the cowboy countered, sinking onto your couch’s spiritual twin opposite you. “Need some help?”

“No.” You began feeling around under the edge of the couch, trying to ignore the considering gaze you felt burning your skin.

“Stubborn one, ain’t ya?”

“I should be asking you if you’re okay,” you retorted. “Seeing as I threw you into a hole.” 

“Short answer? No. But I’m fine.” His tone held a bitterness that warned you not to inquire further, shifting uncomfortably. “Horse bucked me and ran. I’ll miss her.”

Your searching hands finally found the metal case of the first aid kit. The labeled bottles were barely legible through your spotted vision, but you made out that the third one that you held in your hand was Rad-X. Popping one, you held out the bottle, and felt him accept it. 

Lost for words, you kept rummaging through the first aid kit. Was it enough to tell someone that you were sorry for their loss when their loss had been blasted out of existence? Probably not. The mournful silence that hung between you said enough.

“Here, let me.” The cowboy took the kit from you, some kind of gentleness in his voice. “What do you need?”

“Med-X.” Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, the soreness of the shockwave’s impact was starting to hurt. 

His hand returned with the syringe, and you wasted no time in injecting it. 

“Thank you.” Your vision was beginning to clear. “Why the Vault-Tec colored cowboy getup?”

“Don’t ask,” he grumbled.

“Kind of ironic, no?”

“No kiddin’.” He tilted his head, regarding you. “Name’s Cooper, by the way. And I may not be an expert, but I think you’re bleedin’.” 

“(Y/n).” Following his gaze, you confirmed his suspicions. Blood oozed from your side, seeping down your hip and across the plastic material of the sleeping bag. Untucking your shirt and pulling it up, you discovered that the culprit was a chunk of glass that had buried itself neatly in your skin. 

“Well, that’s not good.” 

For the first time since you’d met, Cooper laughed. “No, no it’s not. I don’t think you’ll be gettin’ to a hospital any time soon, either.” 

You knew he was right. Even if you could wait out the first two weeks of fallout, the likelihood that any hospitals would be standing, much less staffed, was slim. This had been the big one, there was no denying that. Accepting this, you gripped the glass. 

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“I don’t have much choice.” 

Biting the insides of your cheeks, you pulled. Your grip slipped on the blood, and the glass stayed lodged in your side. Cursing, you gathered a handful of your shirt hem and tried again. This time, it popped free with a noise that could only be described as broken fleshy suction. Just as the noise suggested, uncorked blood gushed forth.

“Here.” Cooper held out a different syringe. 

“No.” You waved the stimpak away. “That was expensive. There’s only one.” 

“So? You need it.” 

“Something worse might happen later.” 

Cooper looked between your wound and your face. “You serious?” 

“Yes. I might lose a hand or a foot now.” 

“I don’t think a stimpak will fix all that.” 

“It’ll be better than not having one.” 

Shaking his head, he put the stimpak back in the case. “Fine. But let me clean you up.” 

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“Do you know how to clean up and fix up wounds, then?” 

You looked at the concrete floor. “...No.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

“At least walk me through doing it myself. I’ll need to know this stuff.” 

Adjusting his hat, Cooper stared at you. “You’re a real stubborn one. Alright.” 

“That was fast.” You’d expected him to argue more. 

“You’re gonna bleed out otherwise. I’m not above making compromises to prevent a death.” 

You flashed him a glare, but he’d already busied himself with sifting through the saddle bags he’d taken off his shoulders. Out of the leather pocket came a few shot bottles of liquor. You couldn’t help but recoil at the sight.

“Oh, hush. You’ve got Med-X in you, you’ll be fine.” Cracking the lid of one, he leaned forward, and poured the contents of the bottle directly in your wound. Despite the branded morphine coursing through your system, you yelped at the sting. 

“Deep breaths.” Another bottle splashed its way over your exposed flesh.

“Hurts like a bitch,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

“It’s gonna. But you’ll survive.” Cracking open one of the cans of purified water that you’d kept on the shelving against the wall, he rinsed the liquor from your gash. “Now, do you still wanna do those sutures, or are you gonna buck up and let someone help you?”

With some effort, you leaned forward to take them from his hand, all but snatching them. “Still need to learn for later.”

“It’s a free country,” he ceded, showing you his palms in mock surrender. “Just clean your hands first.” 

Using the rest of the water in the can, you washed off the layer of dirt from your hands. Cooper watched you carefully. The blood had slowed to a sluggish drip, but your head swam slightly with the effects of what you’d already lost. “If you need help, let me know.” He gestured towards the package. “Go ahead and open that up, and get out a needle. Should all be roughly the same. Get one of the smallest eyes.” 

Following his lead, you picked the needle he suggested. 

“Now the suture.” 

Step by step, he walked you through the process with as much sterility as you could manage in your current environment and situation. Threading the needle, looping it in your skin–how to throw the knots. You nearly quailed when you first put the needle through the flesh of your wound, but you soldiered on. Who knew if he’d stick around–and if he did, you were certain it would be a bloodbath between survivors for a while that could take him. Grimacing through the process, you managed to close up your own wound. 

“So,” he said, handing you the supplies to bandage your sutured wound, “you sure you’ve had worse?”

“Oh yeah.” 

“Care to elaborate?” “Not really.” 

You considered telling him about your past a few times during the rest of the evening, but you didn’t, even as you shared a meal of Instamash and Pork n' Beans. The conversation was good, if a bit superficial, neither of you wanting to delve into your past, and you weren’t about to ruin it by going into detail about the accidents or the abuse you’d suffered in the past that made shrapnel small potatoes. Instead, you enjoyed his company until the Med-X and the toll of the day made your eyelids too heavy to keep open, and only then did you allow him to help you crawl into your bloodstained sleeping bag. Through your sleepy haze, you guided him to the blankets in the cupboard, offering assurances that he could borrow them to sleep on the other couch.

When you woke, the nixie lamp clock across the room told you that it was midday, and Cooper was nowhere to be found in your little bunker. Between the pain in your side, and the post-nuclear winds that whipped past outside and rattled the bunker door, you knew there was no chance of finding him, either. Not until the fallout cleared, or until you’d healed. Silently, you promised yourself that if you ever saw him  aliveagain, you’d return the favor of caring for a stubborn patient. 

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[chimerabytes]

just got a really random idea for a s/i concept who has a weapon that shoots nails and needles. (like sewing needles.) i dont know why. but its cool to me...

[omega-e123]

Hey! Welcome in.

Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.

Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)

Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

✧.* Reader is written as a Mobian in mind, but not explicitly stated or characteristics pointed out. Gender neutral.

✨: New

Masterlist:

𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics

✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion

✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him

✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?

✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive

✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.

✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.

✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence

✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better

✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word

✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.

✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.

𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons

✫ Physical Contact

✫ Jealousy

✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow

✫ When You’re Sick

✫ The Winter Season

✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias

✫ Allergies

✫ Chronic headaches

✫ Trypanophobia

✫ Shark Week

𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis

𓇻 Play Wresting

𓇻 Protecting you

𓇻 Chew Toy

𓇻 Softness of Your Hands

𓇻 His Tail

𓇻 First Time Affection

𓇻 Losing you

𓇻 Blood Transfusion

𓇻 The Ultimate…

𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !!

𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !!

𓇻 Anxiety Attack

𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.

⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig

⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias

⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?

[cbsxreader]

could i please have the mercs with someone who has severe trypanophobia, to the point of going into a fight or flight response upon being exposed to needles? sorry if this is dumb or otherwise Bad

Sorry that this took a while!!! 😭 Also, I don't know much about having phobias n stuff so, sorry if I wrote anything wrong

Mercs with an S/o who has severe trypanophobia

Cw: Needles, trypanophobia

Scout

Scout acts like he isn't afraid of needles himself and says they're not that bad, but in reality he has a fear of them too. So, he isn't too confused about his S/o's phobia.

Distracts his S/o by doing tricks and small stunts to get their mind off of the fact that they're getting a shot. Even if it rarely works or doesn't work at all, Scout doesn't give up on his S/o.

If they freak out, Scout freaks out too and there's not a chance either of them calm down. After a single appointment, Scout completely understands just how much his S/o is freaked out by needles. Also, they both go out to get something to eat to put the appointment behind them.

Soldier

Doesn't really understand why his S/o is so afraid of needles, like, not at all. He's seen and experienced way worse than a single, little prick to the skin and he doesn't understand what his S/o finds so scary in it.

Even if Soldier doesn't understand their fear, he still comes to appointments at their request. While he remains non-bothered, his S/o internally worries.

When Soldier actually sees how afraid his S/o is and how they cling to him for dear life, he goes wild and throws away and destroys all needles on sight.

Pyro

Is afraid of needles too, though not as much as their S/o. Pyro doesn't completely freak out, they're just a bit nervous. So when their S/o tells them they have a phobia of needles, they feel very sympathetic.

They try gifting their S/o a plush toy they can hold while getting a shot, maybe something to squeeze or pet while trying to stay calm. Sometimes that plush can be Pyro! They're more than happy to see their S/o overcome their anxiety even a little bit for the better good.

Pyro even tries to motivate their S/o by sucking up their own fear of getting shots and try to show that it's not so bad. Doesn't matter if it actually encourages their S/o or not, they're not forcing them to at all.

Demoman

Not a big fan of needles either. Though it's just a feeling of uneasy-ness and he shies away from the doctor if he needs to get a shot. So, he understands his S/o's fear of needles.

Demo might try to reason with the doctor if there's any way for him to hold his S/o still as they get their shot. It's all for their better health, even though he does feel a bit bad about restraining his S/o.

Demo praises his S/o and lets them know how proud he is of them after an appointment. All he wants to see is his S/o trying to live peacefully with their phobia and even overcome it a tiny bit, so he'll make sure he helps them in that journey.

Heavy

A big, tough man like him can't understand why his S/o is scared of needles which are just quick little pokes in their skin to make them feel better.

Heavy has to hold his S/o in a bear hug every time they go to a doctor's or Medic's office, mainly to catch them if they faint and to hold them still if a fight response gets triggered. They're clinging onto him like their life depends on it.

If his S/o freaks out, Heavy tries to keep them still with his strength, but secretly feels guilty about it. To try to calm them down to endure the prick to their skin, he speaks to them in Russian in a comforting voice to divert their attention.

Engineer

It takes a little while for Engineer to understand his S/o's fear of needles because he's a practical man, but he gets there.

He tries to reason with his S/o, trying to tell them that it's just to make them feel better but he eventually understands it's something more than just a fear.

If he's allowed, he'll hold his S/o's hand to keep them calm when they get a shot. Engie really only understands how bad his S/o's phobia is when he has to handle them as they're hyperventilating and panicking.

Medic

He doesn't know why his S/o freezes up and doesn't respond to him when they stumble into his lab. He stares at them in confusion before realizing what he has on a stool right next to him.

Medic scurries to hide them in a cabinet and welcomes his S/o in. If they've gone into a panicked state, he tries his best to calm them down

If his S/o wants to spend time with him but he's performing a surgery and needs to use a needle, he motions with his hand for his S/o to look away. Though they can still get a bit nervous.

Overall, it's made him dapper up his lab for his S/o to not freak out. Maybe he understands and doesn't understand his S/o's fear of needles at the same time because "It's just a little prick", but he tries, that's what matters.

Sniper

Sniper kind of understands his S/o's fear of needles because he's not the biggest fan of them either. Not to the point of being terrified but more like a slightly displeased feeling of when he needs a shot.

Will come to his S/o's appointments just to make them feel more safe. Sniper can only pull them closer to himself when they grip his forearm.

Awkwardly fumbles when his S/o actually freaks out and tries to calm them down by soothing them and petting their scalp. If he needs to, he will hold his S/o so they can get their shot.

Spy

Spy mostly understands why they're afraid, he's sort of the most understanding too, because he knows phobias can't easy to overcome and can't be controlled at times.

Promises his S/o to give them something nice like chocolates and stuff after an appointment. Basically, if his S/o tries to overcome their anxiety, even if it's just them shaking but not completely freaking out, he congratulates them and praises them that they tried to do something about their phobia.

If his S/o starts to panic because they've been exposed to needles, Spy will be quick to react and will try to calm them down the best way he can. He mainly talks French to them in a soothing voice to try to calm them down and reason with them.

[2aceofspades]

FEELINGS. EMOTIONS.

Y'all. 🥲

3k Comic//002D-Alpha 9 (10 years post-mutation)

Part 1 | 001D-Alpha 9

[batrogers]

LINK, PRINCE CONSORT Hyrule Warriors, [Tri Force Heroes]

[From my Link's Meet AU, That Broken Promise]

GENDER: Male (afab, has a gender-change ring) PRONOUNS: He/Him, Gerudo-She HEIGHT: 5'6" AGE: 25 HEALTH: Deaf (acquired at 17), severe PTSD (largely recovered)

WEAPONS: Magical Sword, Hylian Shield ITEMS: Hookshot, Ocarina of Time, several potions SPELLS: None

Prince joined the Hylian army in the face of the oncoming army of monsters from the witch in the Valley of Seers. He was discovered to have the triforce of courage the same day Zelda and the Castle was lost, and fought under Impa as her protege through their world touching so many eras besides their own. Other heroes fell through by various kinds of accident, but eventually, after Cia’s defeat and Ganondorf’s full return and transformation, they were all returned to their rightful place. Afterwards, once his family returned and some awkward conversations were had about him lying about his age to join the Hylian army, Prince travelled to give Zelda and himself space to recover and found himself stranded in a country whose Princess was cursed by an evil witch. With the aid of two other heroes past their own quests, they are victorious and all return safely home.

Prince vacillates between gregarious and somber, depending on his comfort and the situation he’s in. He often appears outgoing regardless of how he actually feels. He is passionate about working with Zelda to restore Hyrule to its former glory, although he would much rather do it without the burden of his reputation as Hero and General of the War. Much of his time, like hers, is spent on paperwork and meetings now although he hasn’t let his old skill fade. He is happiest when he’s physically active.

Prince does not speak, is literate in several languages, and uses mostly fluent sign language. Glossed as BSL.

Prince is bisexual but very selective about who he allows to touch him. He struggled with boundaries in the past, and still hasn’t fully recovered confidence in his ability to enforce them with others.

CURRENT MEDIA: [Note: some of Prince’s backstory fics have different gender & race headcanons. As they are meant to also be standalone pieces, I will not be updating them to match however events and relationships remain largely the same and are still relevant.] Reflections of an Unfamiliar Face, rated T for mature themes Eclipse of the Moon, Series, rated E for sex, consensual and non. Who Hurt You, rated G, discussion of trauma All My Fault (I Failed You), rated T, torture aftermath Dulce et Decorum Est, rated E for porn Mine, rated M for discussion of sex, including past assault Half-Conscious, rated G, cw for near-drowning

The First Broken Promise, rated T Running the Switch, rated T, trypanophobia warning Overflow, rated M for mature themes Don’t Be So Gentle, M to E rated short fiction Echoes, rated G

Songs from the playlist for Prince: Battlefield, by Svrcina People I Don’t Like, by UPSAHL Great! Big! Party! by eyeamki Drunk Dazed, by ENHYPHEN