#i have such a bad headache ive been at work all night

[mudandvodka]

can’t sleep

[harrykim]

need to calm down immediately or i will end up yelling and saying mean things and i really dont wanna do that. but oh fucking god am i pissed off.

[rimaiahwrites]

My sick little baby (a mini read)

Finally finished this, been sitting in my draft for about a year and a half tbh:( When reader gets sick and and anddd she’s super subby and eren is soo daddy (fave eren) and just wanna baby her :) Sweet 🧁 (not proof read mb lol I’ll edit later)

When y/n got home from school she didn’t feel the best but she still pushed herself to clean up a little and make dinner for her husband Eren before he gets home from work, but when she woke up the next morning her head was pounding and her stomach was dropped when she sat up and the next thing she knew she was up and running to the bathroom and leaning into the toilet letting the rest of last nights dinner out. When she was done her eyes were watering and she was dizzy as she walked back to her bed.

She pouted when she realized her husband had already left for work and laid on his side of the bed. It was not long before tears was streaming down her face because she hated being sick especially when her daddy wasn’t there with her. She grabbed her phone from the other side of the bed and called him. She was in no shape to take care of herself and she knew it. It rang twice before his smooth voice hit her ears. “Wassup baby?”

“Papa…I don’t feel good.” Her lip quivered and her voice cracked feeling her stomach cramp up. “baby what’s the matter?” He cooed stopping his hand movement from writing on his paper now feeling worried for his little princess.

“Can you come home? I think I have the flu.” She whined, wishing he was home already to make her feel better. “You did feel hot when I was in bed with you this morning…you need daddy to come home to take care of you?”

“Yes please I need you, I already throw up and I feel so weak..” she whispered. That was all she needed to say before he was packing his suitcase up and headed to his car to get to his beloved wife.

When he got home he found her curled on the couch wrapped in her pink and white fluffy blanket watching finding Nemo. When he sat his keys down her head popped up he could tell what kind of mood she was in with the pout on her lips, his subby whiny baby.

“Oh my poor babyy.” Eren cooed picking her up bridle style sitting her on his lap. Her bottom lip wobbled and she grabbed on to him tightly. “My princess doesn’t feel good?” She shook her head cuddling his neck. “Have you eaten yet?” She let out a quiet no in the sweetest voice and it melted Erens heart. He sat her back down and headed to the kitchen looking around for something to give her to eat then his mom’s chicken noodle soup recipe popped up in his head. Whenever eren was sick as a kid she would make him chicken noodle soup and crackers and it alway made him feel better..So he got to it, it was a easy and quick recipe and it took no longer than 15 minutes, He also made a her a cup of liquid iv in her pink and white teddy bear water bottle.

Erens pov—

“Here drink this princess…” I shook her awake and gave her the cup, her shaky hands reached out to grab it. My baby was so weak it broke my heart, she was mostly dehydrated from barely drinking or eating for the whole morning. I put my hand on her forehead and she was burning up, i cringed a fever was a good sign because I knew that her body was fighting off whatever it was but I definitely needed to check her temperature.

I went and got the thermometer and her medicine, soon as she saw me coming with the bubblegum pink bottle of liquid she whined loudly, being very overly dramatic. She hated taking medicine with a passion but of course I wasn’t going to just let her sit there with a runny nose and a headache and not do anything.

I poured her a big tablespoon of the medication and lifted it to her mouth, her lips sat in a pout.

I sighed, “baby please open up, it’s gonna make you feel better, promise.” She shook her head no, she was in no way ever a bad girl but as soon as she got sick she was very testy with me.

I hated to get stern with her at a time like this, her eyes glossy and lips pouted so prettily on her face.

“Open, now I’m not going to say it again.” I tilted her head up with my two fingers.

“But pap—“ soon as she opened her mouth I shoved the spoon in her mouth, her little dramatic ass gagged as she swallowed it down, scrunched up face like she just teated the most foul thing in the world. I chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

“This will make you feel better promise, now let’s get some food in you.” She whined and rubbed her stomach.

“My tummy hurts I don’t wanna’ papa” she whimpered but of course she still ate, because no way was I about to let her go all day without eating or drinking. She drank half her cup of water and was all ready feeling a little better.

I grabbed her and carried her up stairs to our bathroom to run her a hot bath.

My bath was a jet tub so when I poured some of her favorite bubble bath there was more bubbles than water at this point, I made the water hot because she normally liked to be boiled alive every time she takes a bath or shower.

“I just wanna lay down..” I turned around to see her standing in the bathroom door way, her teddy bear in hand.

“I know but you’re sweaty baby, C’mere.” When her head touched my chest her whole body went limp and supported its-self against me.

“Let’s get you outta these clothes” I mumble, tossing her shirt to the other side of the bathroom, into her hamper. I lifted her up and placed her in the tub. I smile, Her aching body begins to loosen up from the warm water, her chunky little cheeks squashed from pressing them against the cold edge of the tub finally feeling like she’s able to relax she lies her head down on the edge of the tub, whimpering every time I gently message her scalp. Her once fresh braids now a bit frizzed for tossing and turning on my cotton pillow case without her silk hello kitty bonnet.

“You feel good baby?” I smile, she nods her head only before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. I grabbed her bath rag and wiped her runny nose gently trying to not irritate it more than it already was, red and raw from blowing it all day. I wash her body, starting from face to chest, to her bottom half to her feet, trying not wake her.

I grabbed her towel and carry her, her legs dangling at my side secured with my hands interlocking under her butt. She let a huffed breath, coddling her face into my neck.

I putt lotion on her whole body, head to toe. I placed my shirt that looked like a dress, stopping mid thigh to her.

“Papa?” I heard softly, looking up from sliding her panties on. Her big brown eyes filling with tears. Worried, I moved up to her face and wiped them with my thumb stroking her face. Her skin so soft and clean

“What’s the matter pumpkin?”

“I..I love you so much, you’re the best husband I could have ever asked for, you take such good care of me.” She cried her lip wobbling, my poor baby was always so emotional whenever she was sick.

“I know baby, I know, I love you and I’ll always take care of you. Through sickness and health till death do us part baby I mean it.” I grin seeing a giggle creep through her pouty face.

“You’re so corny.” She smiled, for the first time today.

“I know as long as I get to see that beautiful I’ll say whatever.” I mumble kissing her lips softly.

“You feel better?” She nodded closing her eyes briefly before answering me with a quiet yes. “M’ sleepy ..”

“Yeah? Alright let’s go to sleep.” I pulled her to the top of the bed and wrapped my arms around her, her arms tucked between us both, while her head rests in my chest.

My sick little baby .. I thought before kissing her on the forehead and drifting off to sleep myself

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen take care of their sick s/o

requested by @cinnamoroxie : "agh i think ive been getting sick 😭 could u write svt w a sick reader / or just a reader w a sore throat and cant speak w out it hurting pls? love u hope youre doing well "

notes: i :(((( want :((( a joshua :((((

masterlist

seungcheol:

cancels all your plans for the rest of the day when you wake up in the morning barely able to speak. won't let you protest, saying that you need to prioritise your health okay bc these people you're meeting aren't as important to him as you are. if you've just got a sniffly nose n sore throat, he'll let you sleep on him but if you're coughing n sneezing everywhere then sorry, he loves you but maybe stay away from him for a few days? 

jeonghan:

will do everything for you. even tho he doesn't have the loudest voice, he'll try his hardest to yell over the other members to get them to quieten down so he can listen to your hoarse whispers n get you whatever you need <3 gives you so many cough drops that you constantly have one in your mouth the entire time. you can taste them still on your tongue for like a day after you feel better

joshua:

gives you head massages if you have a headache, makes you honey tea if your throat hurts, always has tissues on hand if your nose is running. The Best™ at looking after you. won't leave your side, even if you're spraying germs everywhere, and he has a cold that lasts for three weeks by the end of it, but you're happy and healthy n that's all that matters to him

junhui:

kind of a fluttery mess when you get sick, doesn't rlly know what to do. pats your head constantly, asking if you're okay, and swaddles you in blankets. also gives you so many painkillers and antibiotics bc he doesn't Know what else to do okay and please you sound so terrible n croaky pls take this medicine bc it's meant to make you better and he hates when you're ill :((

hoshi:

coos and baby talks to you when you're sick and a blocked nose mess. speaks in a whisper back to you if you have a sore throat and can barely speak, makes those canned soups for you and spoon feeds it to you. he's a messy feeder tho, n most of it gets around your mouth but he wipes it away vv gently afterwards. hoshi is probably so, so soft when taking care of someone when they're sick tbh &lt;3

wonwoo:

accompanies you everywhere you go. insists you lie down and sleep but if you don't, then he's hovering around you like a concerned mother to make sure you don't overdo it. tells everyone you meet that you have a sore throat and so you can't speak, and Will drag you away if you start coughing too hard, scolding you lightly and pulling a scarf out of nowhere to wrap around your neck

woozi:

wants to take time off working so bad to help take care of you but he rlly can't </3 sets medicine and a glass of water on the table for you to take in the morning, regularly calls you (or texts, if you can't speak) to see how you're doing. checks up on you at night, smiles and kisses you on the forehead if you wake up and blearily murmur his name. he's busy, but he'll still make time to be soft for you

minghao:

always has tissues. and hand sanitizer. and cough drops. and paracetamol. has literally everything, really. says well done and pats your head when you drain a whole glass of water while swallowing the medicine, bc drinking water and flushing out toxins is the best way to get rid of an illness. another person who baby talks you if you're all sick n pouty

mingyu:

makes soup. makes tea. forces both liquids down your throat even if you complain bc it's good for you and he spent so much of his precious time making it for you how dare you try and refuse???? it definitely helps with your sore throat the next day, though, and he looks so smug as he ladles you another bowl of soup to have in the morning. 

dokyeom:

almost starts crying when you tell him u have a sore throat through barely-there whispers bc the pain :((( of not being able to speak :((( that breaks his heart to think about. knows the struggles of runny noses So Well, whips out a tissue and presents it in front of your face if you so much as sniffle quietly. hugs you the entire time, wakes up the next morning with a sore throat and then Actually starts crying

seungkwan:

your personal megaphone whenever you're sick and can't speak. yells at the other members to shut up and listen when you have something to say, and then repeats what you whisper in his rlly loud voice. won't let you have meds (they are!! the demon's pills!!!!) but learns from mingyu how to make rlly good chicken broth for you

vernon:

gets so sad for u when you croak out to him that you can't speak bc your throat hurts so bad. makes you gargle with salt water after brushing your teeth bc it helps disinfect your throat (this is true actually n it really helps). randomly holds his hand to your forehead to check your temperature, but he can never tell if you're running hot or if it's just him

chan:

is all "oh no you're sick :(((( that's terrible also pls don't come too close to me" but pulls you in for a hug immediately if you even vaguely hint at wanting one. googles if throat massages are a thing when you tell him you can't speak bc it hurts, gives you lemon honey tea bc he finds out that helps. kinda ends up massaging your throat? his hands are always warm and they feel nice when placed on your neck

request guidelines

[kvrokasaa]

karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

[sheinsidemymindvro]

could you explain this entire situation because im only catching bits and pieces of it

im rlly confused :/

hey, so elusin is a woman aged 26. she makes music. at the start of september last year i followed her on ig. i didn't know it yet but she is psychic and by looking at a photo of me she used her ability to connect with my brain and she can see my vision, hear my thoughts and because psychics are in ones consciousness they can also manipulate electrical currents that we use to move around (how we function) they can send pulses to your body's muscles like an electrical massage machine and make the muscles tense. they use this to annoy me and to do things like give me headaches, and constipate me. elusin is a person that acts like she is nice but is a horrible ugly person and im not the first to be the victim of her and her sister and friends psychic attacks. my blog is made to bring awareness to my experience and to out her for what she is. ive decided that i will tell people around me about what ive learnt about psychic abilities. let me know if you wanna know more about other things ive learnt, when i followed her at the time i was a listener of her music and just started to learn how to make music. it has been a year since. for the first six months she kept silent on abusing me through non verbal abilities such as stopping me from sleeping, mimicking my voice to manipulate me into thinking her whispers were my thoughts. making my body tense to try and trick my brain into thinking its anxious. after six months of that she and her companion psychics went into full psychic attack, and i get all the abuse plus i have constant verbal attacks as long as I'm awake. elusin is obsessed with trying to destroy my mental health and has changed her sleep schedule to my own. she is in norway and i am in new zealand. she is a neet who receives money from her parents and lives in one of their spare houses. that is how she is able to do this to me regarding time. my music is what has kept her around for so long. she wants to copy it, but i have made it very difficult for her by raising awareness of what she is doing to me on the internet to leave records, aswell as posting demo versions of songs. I'm only a beginner and she has been making music for ten years. it sucks that my creative journey is starting like this but i have decided to stop making music until she leaves me alone so that she has nothing to gain by remaining in my mind. i have stopped completely for the last two or three months and am just waiting this out. she constantly taunts me with immature mockery and the easiest way to describe her is that she is 26 and is extremely stupid. what has stopped me from having my mental health damaged from this is realising she is an idiot. she revealed to me her identity because she thought i wouldn't talk about it. i deal with a 12 year old in a 26 year olds body is the shortest i could put it. I'm doing ok now, i've learnt to ignore her and the worst she does to me is keep me up night so that I'm tired at work. I'm staying strong and positive and focusing on other areas of my life right now. thank you for asking me about it, i'm here to share my story and what i've learnt about human psychic abilities. it sucks that she decided to use her ability to try and break people and make their lives worse. i know there must be a lot of psychics out there, and they aren't going to be like her. the things i describe are very real and if a psychic would read them they might be interested and check it out. once they connect to your consciousness, they feel your being as if they are you, and when that happens they know your thoughts as you think. which isn't so bad. when that happens they have access to also your memories and can look through them, its like how you are able to think about your own memories and know them. this means other psychics will become aware of what she is and what she has done. I feel like if there are any other idiot psychics going on psychic attack sprees for years, people are going to become aware that psychics exist, i hope to make a place where other people that have gone through similar experiences can talk.

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part iv- the hunt

“the moon in me finds the sky in you” - dikshasuman

summary: you and steven do a little bit of grave robbing. oh yeah, marc’s there too.

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: language, violence, red room talk, idk

a/n: yall i’m so sorry i dropped off the planet for a bit 💀 there’s been a lot going on like i’m in a situationship now w a friend from high school who moved to my college this semester, i finished my finals early, i see taylor swift tomorrow, i’m back home, but ANYWAY i hope y’all enjoy and pls forgive me ik it’s been 3 weeks 😭 love y’all

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl

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Hijacking a car is the easiest part.

Driving with a pounding headache isn’t that bad either.

On the other hand, watching Marc fling off his shirt is very hard.

“How did Harrow know those things about me?” you ask, averting your eyes back to the road. “He saw right through me.”

“He’s just trying to mess with you. You know, he’s trying to get in your mind,” Marc says. “No, don’t let him do that. He’s got this idea that he can see the ‘true nature’ of people or some baloney like that.”

He starts putting on a new shirt, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed as he continues. “If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

You tap the steering wheel. “But he knew.”

Marc’s face twists with sympathy. “I know.” He raises a hand to pat your shoulder, but he thinks twice and sets it on the headrest instead. “But he’s just manipulating you. Weaponizing your past.”

You glance at his hand.

“… You can touch me, you know?” It comes out a bit awkward, but meaningful nonetheless.

He gives you a small smile and rests it on your shoulder, a light chill going up your body. You didn’t receive a friendly touch in your life until the Red Room fell, and the first time Nat hugged you after a team dinner you had sobbed your heart out.

It had become your love language, in a way. You may be picky with who touches you, but every passing graze means the world.

And the weight of his hand grounding you feels nice. So you sniffle a bit before nodding sharply.

“Thank you.” Marc doesn’t take his hand back. You don’t want him to. “What did he tell you? I kind of zoned out.”

He shrugs and begins working a knot in your shoulder. “Nothing much. ‘You’re unlovable’ and ‘You’re a monster’. It’s all the same with him.”

You can hear the underlying hurt in his tone, but don’t bring it up.

After a few seconds, you pipe up, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Have I told you about the time I jumped off the collapsing sky base for the Red Room without a parachute?”

———————————————————————

Pulling off into some sand dunes, you drive across the sandy terrain in hopes of finding a place to put this tattered cloth together.

Under the light from the headlights, you and Marc lay out the fabric on the hood of the car and start trying to piece it together.

“Try that,” he says, passing you a triangle.

Working in tandem, you make little progress. It’s like a puzzle with no directions. It’s frustrating to come to so many dead ends, and it’s starting to grate on Marc.

“I’m not getting any whole constellations, it’s just little pieces and fragments.” He slams his hands on the car and walks to the side.

“Marc,” you begin cautiously. “I think we may need Steven. I know you don’t want to, but he understands all of this. We need to give him a shot or we’ll be out here all night.”

Suddenly atop the car, Khonshu chuckles. “I summon the gods, you summon the worm. He won’t return the body.”

“Why do you feel the need to do that?” you grumble, heart rate slowing after the bird practically jumpscared you.

Marc grabs the side mirror before ripping it off and gathering the strips of cloth.

“What is it with you and mirrors?” you ask.

He pauses his irritated work and points to the broken mirror.

“I see Steven in reflections. Figure he’ll be happy about this.” He holds up the cloth.

Sighing, he walks away. “Alright,” he says. “Go ahead. You’re in.”

You can see the change before you hear the British accent.

Steven crouches down in the sand, ripping tape and assembling the scraps faster than you or Marc ever could have. You step closer, unsure of how he feels about you. You did lie about your job to him.

“Steven?” you ask, sitting down next to him. He looks up, momentarily taken aback. He stares for a bit, different from Marc’s half-lidded gaze. His eyes are wide, taking in every detail.

Well, every detail of you. But you don’t know that.

“Egyptians invented modern navigation,” he explains. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert. So, they came up with a way to get about using the sun and stars. It’s bloody genius, innit?”

He holds up his work. A star.

You carefully take it, marveling at the cohesive map.

“Oh, woah, that’s amazing.” Steven blushes a bit at your words, but it goes unseen in the dark. “What do we do with it?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but if… Oh wait, hang on a minute.” He holds it up to the light. “You see that? You see those little pinpricks there? That’s a constellation.”

You nod. “Orion. We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right? Let me scan it.” With your phone, you pass over the star, letting it pick up the image.

“Well, um, actually… Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” That much is revealed when nothing turns up. “Yeah, you see, Senfu marked that tomb, like 2,00 years ago. And stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but it could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking.”

You pick up his insinuation. “So unless we know what the sky looked like on that date…”

“We’re buggered,” Steven finishes.

The god appears ahead of you, a warning before he speaks. “I remember that night. I remember every night.”

When he makes no movement, you and Steven begrudgingly head up the dune to meet him.

“I can turn back the night sky, but it will come at a cost.”

“Doesn’t it always,” you sigh.

He nods to Steven. “I cannot do it alone. Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me.”

Steven is wrapped in the same suit from before a few seconds later, eyes glowing. As the god raises his hand, he begins swiping it through the air. Steven mimics Khonshu’s motions, and before long, you gasp aloud.

The sky is spinning, whirling past as trails of stars blur together. The moon is little but glowing white dots, rapidly switching phases.

You’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“This is the night,” Khonshu says as the spinning stops, freezing the spiraling constellations on the night you were looking for.

“This is surprisingly painful,” Steven shouts.

You hurry to grab your phone, scanning the stars.

“I know, I’m sorry! But it’s working,” you call.

Khonshu collapses to his knees as Steven says, “I can feel my energy leaving me.” The head cover disappears as he loses control of the night sky. He reaches up again, holding it long enough for you to finish scanning.

“I got it! 29 degrees north, 25 east.” Steven collapses, and you tuck your phone away to hold him.

He crawls to you, coughing and trying to control his racing breaths. You help him stand, but it doesn’t do much. He faints as soon as you let go, falling face-first on the sand.

“Steven!” you shout.

“Hey, Steven?” No response. “Marc? Come on, idiots. Where are you? Marc, come on.”

You keep trying until you give up and start dragging the poor man across the sand, but it doesn’t last for long.

Headlights blind you as a car speeds toward the two of you. Shortly followed by gunfire.

“Shit, why do you have to be so heavy?” you grunt. “Oh my god, fine.” Reaching the top, you toss the body over the hill rather unceremoniously, racing down and hopping in the car.

The other car circles you as you duck down, grabbing any weapons you can find. The men step out and start inspecting Steven/Marc, and you take the opportunity to sneak out.

Striking up a flare, the red glow immediately catches their attention.

You hear them yelling before they make a sharp turn and start shooting again. You drop the flare and run around the other side, readying another.

Just as the truck pulls to a stop by the van, you run out, tossing the flaming signal onto the top of the bed, where there was plenty of ammunition just waiting to be exploded. It doesn’t take long for the fuse to spark.

It’s safe to say that you receive a small firework show, and both bodies tumble out with no sign of getting back up anytime soon. If at all.

When you turn around, you immediately shriek.

“OH MY GOD!”

Steven stares back at you, now completely fine and a bit confused.

“…What?” he asks.

You shove him lightly. “Don’t scare me like that, Иисус Христос [Jesus Christ]. I could’ve thrown a flare at you.”

Steven meekly apologizes and your anger dissipates, so you wave to the car.

“C’mon. We’d better get going if we’re going to catch up to Harrow.”

———————————————————————

By the time you’re almost at the tomb, the sun has begun to rise.

“We can’t lose more time,” you grumble finally, breaking the silence. “Harrow must be headed back to this tomb.”

You bite your lip, weighing your words on your tongue. “Listen, if he’s there, we’ll need Marc.”

“No,” Steven says.

You blink. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No. See, the thing is, we made a deal, Marc and I, that when he was done with Khonshu, he would disappear for good.”

Steven glances to the mirror where you figure Marc is yelling at him.

‘But that deal didn’t involve you getting (Y/N) and us killed. That’s not gonna fly with me.’

“You made a deal?” you ask, unaware of the words of the other alter. “That he would just, never come back? Never eat, sleep, live? I understand this is a complicated situation, but both of you belong in your body equally. Besides, that would mean he would also completely disappear from my life.” You add the last bit much quieter.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitate, gripping the wheel. “Yeah, well, the guy’s kinda grown on me. Both of you have.”

‘Steven, you’re gonna make her upset, stop. Give me the body.’

“Even if he would want to ‘lone wolf’ this whole thing,” you continue, waving your hand. “I’ve been there before, and I’m not going to let you dive into a suicide mission alone.”

Ignoring the frustrated man in the mirror, Steven nods. “Yep, it’s just you and me, and the open road.” You brake hard, stifling your amusement as he jolts forward.

“We’re gonna go on foot,” you say, more of an order than a suggestion. He agrees readily, and both of you trek through the narrow path to your destination.

The shadows are a welcome relief from the heat, yet every sound has you tense. Every bit of movement could be a sniper. Every crevice could hide a hitman.

“There.” You point down to a camp. “It looks like they’re already inside, so we need to find another way to beat them to- What’s its name?”

“Uh, Ammit. She eats dead people’s souls.”

“Great. Let’s check the camp.”

Steven heads into a tent, rifling through the belongings. It’s going well, at least until a glass table reflects Marc instead of himself.

‘You look scared.’

“I’m not.”

‘You should be.’ Marc gives a wry grin that’s barely visible on the glass. ‘Without Khonshu, there’s no more suit, no more healing, no more power.’

Steven shines a flashlight directly into his eyes and blinks away the dancing spots. “Yeah, and no more you. I thought. It’s what you said, innit? But believing anything that comes out of your mouth just shows what a plonker I am.”

‘Look, I wish I could just disappear, I really do. But unfortunately, I’m still here. If you’re gonna go through with this, you gotta be smart.’ Marc hesitates a bit. ‘For (Y/N)’s sake. I’ve been in situations like this before.’

Steven shrugs. “So have I. It’s the same body, innit? It’s in there somewhere. Muscle memory and all that.” Marc rolls his eyes from the desk.

‘Yeah, I’m not sure it works that way. Just-’

“Oh, whatever,” Steven huffs, cutting him off.

‘I’m here,’ Marc calls, voice permanently in Steven’s head, even as he tries to walk away. ‘You’re not alone.’

“I know I’m not alone! I know I’m bloody not alone, I’ve got (Y/N). She’s got my back.”

Marc’s snide response shocks both of them. ‘Oh, are you in love?’ he calls. ‘You’re gonna get all of us killed.’

“And you don’t love her?” Steven snaps back, stomping down his flustered-ness to prod at the other man. “Look, I appreciate your concern, mate, I really do. But we’ve got it from here.”

As he eagerly hurries out of the tent, Marc yells from a mirror.

‘If you touch her, I swear to you, Steven. I swear, I’ll throw us off a cliff!’

Meanwhile, searching the camp, you freeze when something catches your eye. A bloodied tool, but not something modern. It’s old as fuck, from what you can tell. But the blood is fresh. Like someone stole this from the tomb and stabbed the nearest person with little regard to the trail they’d leave.

Blood covers the nearby crates. Only more reason to get out of the open.

Charging up your Widow Bites, you head to the entry point where Steven is waiting. You quickly start putting on his harness, trying to ignore how close you are by constantly glancing over your shoulder.

“I have to say, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” he excitedly whispers. “The adventure, I mean.” Not surprising. His love for Egyptology makes this basically the most dangerous yet exciting field study ever.

You smile. “Yeah. We want what we’ve never had.” Tightening the buckles, you can’t help but notice his breath ghosting over your cheek. “You know, family, freedom. Relationships…”

There’s a moment of connection. Your eyes meet and you don’t look away.

He’d be really easy to kiss. You know he would be. And a part of you really wants to. But not right now.

You cough a bit and look away, grabbing some gloves as you clip his harness on the rope.

“I will go down first,” you manage, voice quieter than usual. “Before I belay.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steven says. “What’s belay?”

You chuckle and wordlessly drop, reaching the bottom with little issue. What you don’t see is Marc summoning enough control to punch Steven directly in the face, partially for almost kissing you and partially for not doing it.

Underground, the oppressive heat finally relents and you let out a puff of air.

Grabbing your flashlight, you scan the room and run a finger along the dirt atop the sphinx hidden in the dark.

Before you know it, you’ve traced the signature hourglass of the Red Room.

“Shit,” you whisper. Before you can focus on it for too long, shouting from behind you causes you to whip around.

Steven tumbles down the entrance, falling flat on his back with a grunt. You help him up, dusting him off a bit.

“There you go,” you chuckle.

He blushes a bit. “I kinda wish you hadn’t seen that.” You shrug, smiling.

He glances up, eyes widening. “Oh, wow, look at you…” It’s your turn to blush now, almost giggling at the feeling in your chest before you notice that he’s looking at the sphinx, not you.

“Oh, yeah. They really are… gorgeous, aren’t they?” You’re staring at Steven as you speak. “They’re just, they’ve been standing guard for centuries.”

He nods excitedly. “Right! Look, I just- If they sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I’d be thrilled. I’d shit myself,” he adds, “but I’d be thrilled.”

“Did… did you do this?” Steven asks, pointing to the hourglass drawing.

Reluctantly, you nod.

“Force of habit… the… The Red Room protocol was to leave the emblem wherever we went. A subtle reminder that Dreykov’s power went beyond borders.” You gesture to the symbol. “A reminder that he was all-powerful.”

You chuckle ruefully, pointing to the symbol. “Even without the pheromone lock, without his agents, he’s still controlling me.”

Steven notices the way you’re voice has quieted, how your usually-relaxed posture has slumped in on itself.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, as if the stone sphinx can hear him.

In an instant, you’re brushing it off.

“Yeah. No, it’s fine, really,” you say, confident once more and hurriedly striding down the dark hallway.

The path twists and turns, disorienting you until you freeze in a small room.

“It’s a maze,” you huff.

Steven can’t help his quip. “It’s a-maze-ing.”

“No,” you snort before pointing around. “Like, there are six paths.”

The man behind you starts muttering to himself as you scan the room. A familiar smell lingers in the air, one you would know anywhere, even if it is hidden by the smell of sand and dust.

Gunpowder.

A few bullet shells lie in the sand.

“What were they shooting at?” you whisper. No one else should be here except Harrow’s dig team.

Steven begins tracing on the center table, much like you had. When you notice a shape forming, you step closer to inspect it.

“This whole structure is the Eye of Horus,” he says. “Look at that. It’s the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife.”

You nod, keeping up with the research you’d done. “But, the resources needed…” The epiphany hits you. “Ammit’s final avatar was a pharaoh.”

“Woah, a bloody pharaoh,” Steven gasps.

“So, do you think this is a map?” you ask, not wanting to disturb the drawing.

“Right. The Eye of Horus is also the eye of the mind, yeah? Representing the six senses, six points. The eyebrow denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight, obviously.”

He continues pointing about the shape. “This point here is, uh, hearing. Smell, touch. And this long line ending in a spiral, is the tongue.”

“An avatar would be Ammit’s voice,” you mutter.

Both of you turn to the corresponding tunnel at once, heading down it together. It ends in an open room, still very musty smelling but less claustrophobic than the previous areas.

You explore for only a few seconds before Steven’s gagging.

“Oh my- Oh my god, is that fresh blood?” he manages. “Isn’t that little chunks of meaty bits?”

You nod in affirmation, really hoping he doesn’t hurl. That’s when you notice canopic jars, very full of organs and coated in very fresh blood. It hasn’t even crusted.

Another bloodied tool lies on the operating table.

You’d read about doctors and sorcerers buried with a pharaoh to protect him from intruders, but this? Checking down the exit hallway, you only see a thick trail of blood.

“Okay, okay,” you hiss, glancing up to the secondary level. “Steven, there might be a way out up there, go check.”

He clambers up with a bit of help from you, wood creaking and echoing around the stone walls.

“So, according to the ancient texts, Ammit should be bound to an ushabti, a little stone statue thingy.” You let him geek out a bit before gunfire stops your heart right in its tracks.

“Harrow,” you say, just loud enough for Steven to hear.

“What are they shooting at?”

You don’t have time to respond when a sickening clicking sound comes from right outside the door.

“Hide. Hide,” Steven calls.

With nowhere to go, you duck down by the table.

The clicking grows ever closer until you spot something, mangled and grotesque, tossing a barely-alive digger onto the stone surface.

The stabbing and squelching sound that follows is enough for you to know that some more jars are about to be filled.

In all honesty, you’ve heard worse, so you silently exhale and try to stay as still as possible.

That plan gets shot the moment you shift and bump a jar.

Wincing, you silently shift away from the table, steadying your breathing as the clicking grows more aggressive. From Steven’s hiding spot, a loud creak rises up and the creature -whatever is it is- jumps atop the table to search for the source of the sound.

You can hear it start climbing the wall, fighting to get to Steven. And that just won’t do.

With a click of a button, you fire off an electrical blast from your gauntlets. It stuns the mummified man, who falls to the table.

Steven shouts with a force you’ve never heard from him and topples a shelf, effectively crushing it.

“I squished it. I squished it,” he whispers.

“Yes,” you say, forcing an encouraging tone. “You definitely squished it, now come on.”

He clambers down the ledge with no semblance of grace, and you take his hand, rushing through the hallway to want you hope will be your destination.

As you’re stepping across shattered stones, a grin finally forms on your face.

This is it. The walls are lined with hieroglyphs, gilded statues line the chamber.

And a sarcophagus lies in the center, water surrounding it.

“Oh, my days,” Steven whispers. “First ones in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh. Thutmose II, Nefertiti, it’s gotta be one of the big ones.”

You point to the sarcophagus, eyes narrowing.

“Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“Those aren’t hieroglyphs. That’s…”

You speak at the same time. “Macedonian.”

He mutters to himself, inspecting the writing. Thoughts spilling out as his mouth races to keep up with his mind.

“I think we’re looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” he concludes. You understand why he’s excited, but a part of you also knows that now is not the time. Not when you’re in a time crunch.

Setting your hands on the lid, you nod for Steven to join you.

“Everything inside me is, like, screaming not to open this thing,” he says nervously.

“Well, it’s either us or Harrow. Your pick.” You know it’s a bit unfair, but it works.

He sets his hands by yours, bracing himself.

You raise a brow. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

[hannahssimblr]

I get suspended, but it’s not that bad. 

The last time, when I set the toilet paper dispenser on fire, it was a lot more of a traumatising experience than this. Everyone was so concerned about me becoming an arsonist that I needed to spend several hours speaking to a child psychologist about my motivations, which I explained was boredom and a fascination with watching little pieces of one ply toilet paper burn. It was likely the most worrying thing possible that I could have said. Still, through long, tedious conversation and a thousand boring questions and hypothetical scenarios we determined by the end of the week that I am merely troublesome rather than a deliberate menace and threat to the safety of teachers and students.

This is the same personality trait that got me kicked out of the boy scouts at ten. I am a disruptive influence, and the therapist simply recommended more supervision, which I did not receive from my casually neglectful parents. At least I never set a toilet stall on fire again.

This week is more about watching TV and playing my PlayStation. I do not have to go to a psychologist to go to, just the hospital to get a trio of stitches in my head and checked for a concussion, which I don't have, and then I am back, melding to the couch, playing Grand Theft Auto IV until I am jittery and my eyes are so manic I feel like I have to manually blink them. 

My mother is extremely kind to me, which is interesting. She panicked after I arrived at Trisha Bailey’s house to collect Ivy earlier than expected last Tuesday with blood pouring from a wound in my head and promptly fainted on the parquet floor in front of two eight year old girls. She had to leave work early to come and get me, and she barely even complained about it. She’s been treating me like I’m made of glass ever since, while I, in tandem, have been making an effort to play up my injuries and fake headaches as much as possible so that she is forced to make snacks for me when she’s home from work. This is a pretty good reason to develop something like Munchausen’s Syndrome, I think. I’m actually being mothered, though it's most likely that she's worried that my dying or having brain damage would mean she'll have to hire a full time nanny or bring in another au pair from France who'll lift individual diamonds from her tennis bracelet over a period of months like the last one did.

She even brushes my hair back and kisses my forehead at one point, which feels like it is crossing a line, and is so weird that I feel urged to make a joke about it. It pisses her off and she doesn’t come near me again for the rest of the day, but that’s fine. I wanted to be alone with the TV anyway. 

One evening I go to Jen and Michelle’s, who both coo over me until I part my hair to show them my stitches, which they act disgusted by, but still, they make me snacks and coffee and tell me I am brave for standing up to Fitzy. I don’t deny it even if it’s not what I truly believe. 

Evan joins us later and acts less disgusted by the gash in my head. He wants to know about Fitzy, who he thinks is a massive dickhead, and how badly I hurt him back. I exaggerate, but figure it’s okay because he is suspended too. It’s not like anybody will see him and call me a liar. I’ll tell them that the thumbnail scratch on his cheek was intentional and they will all believe me. 

He and I go out onto the seafront and smoke together, far away from Jen, who is supposed to be off them but will beg for one if she smells them, and Michelle, the daughter of a medical doctor who shuns them and judges anyone who doesn’t. 

“I kind of wish I’d seen the fight,” Evan is saying as we stroll along in the drizzle, and the end of his cigarette crackles and glows in the haze of the night, “Just to see Willy’s stupid face when you smacked it.”

“Yeah, I mean… he looked pissed off I guess. I don’t really remember, I was all adrenaline.”

“I’ve never been in a fight.”

“You don’t want to be. It’s horrible. I only did it because-” I break off and shrug, “Well, you know why, I suppose.”

I see him peering at me from the corner of my eye as I look over the bay, “Is she worth it?”

I sigh, “Yeah, sure. I don’t know. I think it’s complicated. I don’t regret it but I don’t know if she’d appreciate it either, like she might say that defending her like that is too intense.”

“Is that because you’re not properly together?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. She should be grateful,” Evan says around a mouthful of smoke, and I don't respond. 

“What’s she like?”

I don’t really know how to answer, “Um, she’s nice, she’s, like, sweet under this cool-girl exterior, and really smart.”

Evan laughs, “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m just asking, you know, since she’s supposedly pretty experienced and all that…I just was curious…”

“Oh,” I scratch my head, careful to avoid my stitches which itch almost constantly, “Are you, like, asking me what sex is like? I dunno, man, stick your finger in your mouth. It’s like that times a million.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’ve done it. Christ sake. I was just wondering if it ever gets better.”

I pause as I try to determine whether he’s really trying to have a heart to heart with me or if I'm just picking him up wrong. Either way it's a bit awkward, and I don’t know what to say other than, “Yeah, man, I mean, I don’t know what your situation is or anything but it gets a lot better,” I flick my cigarette onto the path and immediately start pulling another out of the packet. Not that I usually smoke more than one at a time, it’s just I am hoping my fumbling around will interrupt this conversation. 

It doesn’t. 

“Michelle is pretty shy, you know, during,” He admits, and my face burns. I really do not want to think about them that way. 

“Most girls are shy. We’re still pretty young.”

“Yeah but, I dunno, it bothers me a bit, and then I see guys like you and girls like Alison and I think that you must have it all figured out. Do you know what I mean?”

“We don’t really, we’re all just kind of muddling our way through.”

“Yeah, but you must have- I mean, you always have a girlfriend.”

I’m surprised he even paid that much attention to me, “Yeah, most of the girls I’ve gone out with never wanted to do anything more than kiss.”

His eyebrows vanish under his fringe, “Really?”

“Yeah, they’re mostly not ready for anything else. It’s fine, I’m okay with it because it’s just part of how it goes. I just focus on how lucky I feel when someone does want to… let me.”

“Like Alison.”

“Yeah.”

“I think everything kind of makes sense now,” he smirks, eyes flicking to my head wound, and I’m certain that whatever he is thinking about me now, my motives and my reasoning for fighting my friend in the changing rooms, he is most likely wrong. 

“Look,” I stop walking and wave my cigarette around vaguely, “you guys will figure it out, huh? I don’t know what to tell you about it. She really seems to like you, so,”

“Yeah,” he says glumly, “I like her too, it’s just that I wish some things were better. Like, she’s barely allowed to come out at night and hang out.”

“Yeah, I suppose that's because her parents are strict.”

“Right! Her mam always gets so annoyed about her being out too late, and then it’s a big drama, and Shell wants to talk about how annoyed she is, and I’m like, why does your mam even care about what you do? You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I get it. It’d be nice if it were different, but,” I shrug, “You know it’s not for nothing, right? Like, I hate to be the guy that defends someone’s strict parents or whatever, but if they’re not strict on Michelle then they can’t be strict on Jen, and if they’re not strict on Jen, well,” I exhale a lungful of smoke, “You know how it is.”

“It’s annoying though.”

“You’ll have to learn to enjoy Michelle in the light of day, and if you stay together until college then you can do whatever you like.”

“College?” He echoes, pulling a face as though the suggestion of waiting that long is ludicrous and unfathomable, but college doesn’t seem so far away for me. I’m counting down. Fifteen months until we are finished school, I will have one last long, empty summer and then I will leave, I’ll vanish into thin air leaving behind nothing but the shadow of a boy, an imprint on a couch cushion, an unmade bed and a cereal bowl in the sink.

I already have September 2010 circled in bold red marker on a calendar with arrows and asterixis all around it because that's it, freedom. That’s when I will get on a plane and go somewhere far from here and never speak to anybody from this town again. Jen and Ivy and a select few others are the only ones who will know my whereabouts. College, to me, has been aspirational before I was even a teenager.

Evan hasn’t even thought that far ahead. 

“You can probably stick it out until then,” I say flatly, “If you’re in love or whatever.”

“Uh, yeah totally, I think we are. I think we’re good together, so I can probably just learn to deal with it.”

“It's worth it,” I don’t know why it would be hard anyway. Evan is so lucky. If I was in his position and had a girl who loved me like Michelle apparently loves him I don’t think any sacrifice would be too much. I'd be on top of the world. I only get to see her during the day? Wow, how lucky I’d feel just to be able to do just that. Eighteen months until we have the freedom to do whatever we like with our time together? What’s eighteen months? If it was real love with someone then I’d happily wait years. Maybe Evan is just a bit stupid or something. 

I drop a hand onto his shoulder, forgetting that sudden movements shock him, and he leaps about a meter in the air. I clear my throat as he gathers himself again. “You’ll figure it out.” I say.

He wants to go back to Michelle’s house where it’s warm and dry, but I’d rather take a walk by the sea for a while. Several days of being cooped up inside have made me feel all soft and cosy, which Doherty would probably say isn’t a good way to feel. He’d want me to take a bracing dip in the sea or run fifteen kilometres in the driving rain just to feel life pumping through my veins on a day like this. Thinking of his big bald head and angry face prompts me to flick my half smoked cigarette away and leave it smouldering in the cycle path. 

I should stop doing unhealthy things. 

I take out my phone and text Alison. 

Are you around?

I’m at home

Want company?

ok come over

Beginning // Prev // Next

[decaydanceredacted]

BASEMENT BILVY.. I FEEL SICK. how ive never thought of basement bilvy before is genuinely shocking. i have. so many thoughts on this. he would be so pretty in chains. im crazy. i have too many things to say on this topic. im going to restrain myself. be glad. petes been alone down in the basement for who-knows-how-long now, save for the daily visits from gabe and the less regular visits from gabe + travie, when gabe starts talking about maybe getting pete a friend to play with. it's not right keeping a boy all on his own, the isolation isn't good for them! and hes got to be a responsible owner, after all, he's not a monster. pete, well trained as he is, never really responds to these comments, as hes not allowed to speak, but the idea scares him a little. maybe even more than it excites him. he doesn't want to share the attention he gets, but being all on his own whenever gabe has to go to work is always so scary. poor baby :( so he thinks maybe it wouldn't be so bad. theres still a part of his mind that doesnt want this happening to anyone else, but it's the part of his mind that tells him to fight back and run, so he knows not to listen to it anymore. gabes at a show one night, some random grimy venue, when he sees an angel in the crowd. this beautiful, tall, pale thing, and he knows he has to have him. as soon as he learns the name he ignores it to call him bilvy. william is too boyish and bill is too short. bilvy rolls off his tounge better. it makes the boy giggle. his hair is short, but every time gabe blinks he imagines him with long, wavy hair, curled in on himself in fearhatredlove next to pete, and he gets a little light headed. he hopes his hair grows fast. bill's easier to get drunk and alone than pete was, a proper lightweight, no fat on his bones. the bustle of the crowd makes it easy to slip something into bilvys drink, and makes it even easier to leave with him unnoticed. before bill knows what's going on, hes waking up on the cold concrete of gabes basement. he's getting nudged by someones boot, and has to sit up to avoid the pressure. the first thing he notices when his eyes adjust is the man standing above him, (the man from the show last night? he can't recall a name, though) staring down at him with an emotion he cant figure out. he's still groggy from whatever knocked him out, but the cold air hitting his body makes him realise that he's stark naked, and it wakes him up quicker than he ever has. he looks away, searching the room for an escape, maybe, but is immediately distracted by the sight of another person. he's in a similar state, naked and kneeling near the feet of the man, staring down at the ground. bill forces himself not to think about how long he must've been down here to be acting that way. he fights through his pounding headache and sore throat to ask where he is, why is he here, 'where am i? where am i? who are you?' he attempts to get on his feet, get away from the man towering above him, but kicks to his shins send him tumbling back to the ground. the tall man whistles, and the boy at his feet jumps on bilvy, pinning him to the ground. bills attempts at throwing him off are fruitless, and eventually he stops struggling and just starts screaming and sobbing. (it hurts petes head, but he knows better than to let go of the boy to cover his ears.) the tall man crouches beside them, grinning at tears. he knew bilvy would be a pretty crier. gabes feeling generous, so he decides to let the boy cry for as long as he needs. he can wait to start training until after bills tired himself out too much to fight back. he's so excited to have two pets to play with. i mean whatever im normal and dont want to see those boys tied up together on the floor. i dont even care about basement!au actually im cool and fine. - sweat anon.

.

[charklenee]

Im bored here is chase x y/n [house md] part 1

I have clinic duty today and I've never felt more exhausted. Working five to nine is already hard, but in addition to the headache I got from my hangover, it's a new kind of hell. I knew I shouldn't drink an excessive amount of liquor during a week day but what more can I say? I was in a state of absolute vulnerability and had a rough time processing an end to my two-year relationship, with my now ex-boyfriend. My head ached tremendously and I could feel a beating pulse on the back of it. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders and sat calmly on the chair in House's office.

He walked in his sneakers with his cane towards the coffee pot and poured a glass for himself.

Currently, I'm still closing my eyes and ready to pass out any moment. I had enormous eyebags in dark shades of brown and black. Slightly smudged mascara and eyeliner was still visible because I haven't washed my face since last night. My hair was scuffed in a bad way, but I managed to clip it so it wouldn't be unbearable. I looked like a mess, I sound like a mess, my hair looks like a mess, and I have clinic duty today. This day couldn't not get any worse, right?

"Patient is in a severe state of comatose," House said while sipping his coffee.

"And?" Cameron replied.

"What is the word "severe" implying?" Chase said with furrowed eyebrows.

"It means she is half-dead and in a state of comatose "

"Great.." I say. "Just put her on the IV and wait for her to emerge from her beauty sleep three decades later, easy-peasy."

House turned his head from the whiteboard and looked at me straight in the eye, "oh yeah, I thought of the same thing, well obviously - are you hungover, Dr.?" House said it in the most sarcastic tone he could possibly say and I was about to tip over the edge of my seat listening to his rambling.

"Yeah. I am, House. I'm going to literally faint any minute now -have you done a tox-screen on the patient, might've been drug related."

"Patient's tox screen was clear, no sign of anything related to drugs." House said.

"Organ failure? Kidney? Or maybe cardiac arrest?" asked Foreman urgently.

"So you meant to say that half-dead meant bruised and butchered?" Chase replied to House.

"She's full of scars head to toe and has nasty fleshy wounds, my guess is high blood sugar is an underlying cause of all of this." House said.

"Hyperglycemia as an underlying problem?" I said with my eyes closed and palms covering my face.

"Yes, three points to the alchoholic." House pointed.

Chase was looking at me all concerned but I honestly don't need that kind of attention. I need something like a rebound, alchohol could get me far, but not far enough to forget. Memories of him linger, linger so dearly, hauntingly.

Chase said coldly, "Wake up, House told you to draw blood." He tapped my back whilst I was covering my face.

"Yeah..I'll do it." I said, in a breaking voice.

"Damn, what did this guy do to make you look like this." He left to check up on the patient.

He stopped and looked at me before he went out of House's office.

After a few minutes, I got the sample and I did some tests. I was looking through the microscope at the office and examining the patient's blood culture. There he was, he walked in. He slided the door and tried to not make it obvious he was there for me, but I could tell the opposite from his glare piercing through the back of my mind.

"Yeah, I'm here for you. Are you okay? I brought some juice for your hangover. I know we don't get along and I hardly know you but please just take the juice."

I stood up and stray away from the microscope. I folded my arms, "it's nice to think that somebody is here for me during times like these, but I don't quite enjoy being somebody else's guilt. I don't want your pity, Dr. Chase. But I will accept this juice, thanks."

He handed me the juice and glanced down, this somehow made me guilty for treating him like I did. I keep blaming my shitty behavior because of a break-up. I guess it's somehow true that it did lead up to this behavior but it is also my fault I don't take care of myself.

"Chase. I'm sorry I was acting all bitchy, I-"

"Yeah, I get it. I did pity you, from personal experience I felt a need to help, I guess."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for the juice."

"Hey.." Chase said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you need a rebound, I could help you. It could ease the pain. No alchohol, no meds, just you and me. We could talk your feelings out. I don't want to smell your vodka scent anymore."

"Sure, whatever you say." I initially was thinking it would lead up to this but when I heard the words I just gave up and followed to his sayings because I think something like this could bring me some sort of rejoicement.

"I have clinic duty. I'll be at your place at seven."

"Deal."

[killergirlfuria]

Since I ended up writing a protocreed fanfic (work in progress) in the year of our lord 2023, I decided might as well share a snippet with you.

Under the cut you will find the first scene of the oneshot I'm working on. It's deslex, hurt/comfort, and fluff. Takes place after [PROTOTYPE] (the first) and Assassin's Creed 3; it assumes the events of [PROTOTYPE] took place right before events of Assassin's Creed series (1-3).

Bleeding Effect inaccuracies to follow, I'm making half this shit up.

•••

Desmond can’t sleep. 

He feels tired, exhaustion seeped into his very bones turning them heavy and aching, but he’s been awake for hours. Tried every trick he knew to fall asleep and failed each time, distracted by the dull pulsating pain in his right hand and the occasional translucent figure that only he can see looming over him. There’s a pressure behind his ears like his body can’t quite decide if it wants to hurt or not, skewing ever so closer to a headache with each passing minute. The crook of the elbow of his left hand also smarts, no longer hooked to IVs, tender and trying to heal.

Even the warm body besides him provides little comfort. Hands entwined together is about as much as Desmond is able to muster for physical contact, his skin tight and overstimulated as the memory-pain of touching the Eye haunts him still. He’s getting better, but it’s frustrating, because he craves contact but his body keeps recoiling from it.

He turns his head to the side.

“You awake?”

The pile of blankets next to him shifts slightly. Something hisses under all that fabric, distinctly inhuman, black tendrils wrap more firmly around the wrist and fingers of his left hand, themselves only barely in the form of a hand, clawed, skinless, and oily-black. Desmond only brings it close to his face, places a gentle kiss on the biomass. It shudders slightly, and then retreats.

“If you can’t sleep,” a muffled, raspy voice comes from under all the fabric, “you can go make me coffee instead of moping.”

Desmond chuckles. “I suppose I can. The sun’s already up anyway.”

It’s shining through the window, all the brighter for all the snow outside.

And if he moves, he’ll feel better. He thinks so, at least. Stagnation always bothered him more.

Desmond pushes his own duvet off—mercifully left alone for the night, though snatched into the pile by twined black tentacles the moment his feet hit the floor—and gets up slowly. He’s sluggish with the now-familiar ache, and the air in the van is certainly colder than under the covers for the winter outside. He maneuvers his hand into a sling, and then a cardigan onto his shoulders for warmth, and walks the two steps it takes him to reach the kitchen.

The van is spacious for what it is, with a bed at the back, small but fully equipped kitchen on one side and a small table and a sitting area right behind the driver’s seat. Everything else is shelves and cabinets, wherever they reasonably fit. Or unreasonably. Storage is good, though for now Desmond doesn’t have much to use it for. He never had much, always on the move.

Maybe it’s time to change.

It’s only been a few days, but Desmond has acclimated to this space faster than ever before. It’s cozy, a little tight but comforting. He always preferred big open spaces, clear skies and the wind in his hair, but here he feels safe.

It’s a first, for a small space with nowhere to run or hide. Might be in big part thanks to who he shares it with.

He steadfastly ignores a shining specter standing in the corner, hooded and silent. It can’t do more than hover in his periphery, anyway.

Even with only one fully functional hand, making a cup of tea and a cup of coffee each isn’t difficult. He’s done more elaborate tricks when he was bartending at Bad Weather, and—

Fuck, was it really only four months ago? He has lived at least three lifetimes since then. Died, too.

It didn’t stick, sure, but it was haunting him. All of it. It would, he knew, likely for as long as he lived.

Desmond shakes his head as he sets a mug of steaming coffee on the counter closest to the bed and lets it do its thing as he sits down by the window and looks out, tea with entirely too much sugar in hand. Outside is more of a painting than anything else, glittering and sleepy, trees and rocks and ground covered in snow.

The pile of blankets shifts, slithers ever so slightly towards the edge of the bed. It shifts a little more— a pale hand sticks from under it, then another, then a pale face with a mop of dark curly hair and bright eyes the color of ice, rimmed with red. Alex sits up, vaults one leg over the ledge, sets it on the floor, then the other, bundles the blankets more securely around his shoulders. Black tendrils frame his chin, cover the entirety of his neck and dip under his shirt, encroaching on his hands. Tendrils writhe both over and under his skin as he doesn’t bother to fully mimic a human just yet.

He’s wearing Desmond’s fluffy socks, the green ones. Desmond was looking for them last evening, damnit.

A red-and-black tendril sneaks from under the blankets and reaches forward, wraps around the mug and pulls it through the air into Alex’ waiting hands. He barely wraps his fingers around it and is already taking a big sip, completely unbothered by how scalding hot the coffee is. His frown softens as soon as he does so. The ripples under his skin settle just to the left of being human enough.

"How are you feeling today?" Alex asks once he’s done pondering his coffee, icy eyes zoning in on him. “Your sleep has gotten worse. How’s the hand? Any hallucinations?”

Desmond looks at his right hand, utterly mummified from bicep down, bandage bulky with ointment pads, resting in the mesh sling. It gives off a strong antiseptic clinical smell, but Desmond isn’t about to complain. It’s that, or the smell of burned human flesh.

"Radiating dull pain, and itchy to the bone like the whole week until now. Actually it’s been hurting a little less,” he says and looks at his hand. The scientist in Alex was endlessly fascinated by the fact that it was seemingly completely charred, yet somehow still healing. Desmond was a mostly regular human after all. “I’ve been Bleeding most of the time I’ve been awake today, though.”

Ice eyes narrow. “That’s very concerning.”

“It’s only the ghosts,” Desmond says dismissively. “I can ignore them.”

Alex looks like he just bit into a lemon, arguments barely kept behind his teeth.

“We can’t do anything about the Bleeds,” Desmond reminds him, and his face sours further.

“I know,” Alex says, fingers momentarily squeezing around his coffee. It’s a testament to his control that the ceramic mug doesn’t even crack; Desmond remembers clearly how he tore Vidic’s armored truck open with his bare hands without much issue.

He gets up, moves back to the bed, sits down next to Alex. Bumps their shoulders together, and is glad to find his body doesn’t make him recoil anymore. His skin still feels a little raw, but not overstimulated enough to shy from all physical contact anymore. 

“I shouldn’t be alive at all,” Desmond reminds him. “It’s a miracle that I am, and I can deal with some slight Bleeding in exchange.”

“Alright,” Alex says, tone frustrated. He lays his head on Desmond’s shoulder, and Desmond shivers but doesn’t flinch. “But if it gets any worse you need to tell me. I can’t do much about it, but there has to be something—”

“I know,” Desmond says and kisses the top of his head, lingers a little. “Just keep reminding me that I’m me, and that I’m real. We’ll figure out the rest. They’re much more bearable now that I’m not frying my brain in the Animus anymore.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll be okay,” Desmond promises, though he doesn’t know if it’s to Alex or himself. “I’m not now, obviously I’m not and I won’t pretend I am, but I will be.”

And he thinks he can, for once. That it’s not an empty promise.

Alex squeezes his bicep and then wraps his arm around Desmond’s waist in response, legs bumping together, and for the first time since Desmond woke up he doesn’t move away. His skin still crawls, overstimulated, but it’s slight enough for him to be able to lean into the touch. They stay like that, content to relish in each-other’s warmth and little else. It’s quiet and comfortable in the calm around them, enough for them to pretend the world isn’t out to get them. Enough to hope that it maybe really will be alright.

Desmond almost doesn’t mind the hooded figure standing in the corner, see-through and staring straight at him with its glowing yellow eyes.

[hyuge]

Hospital Blues and Fantasy Hues

The lights are too bright, and the smell of antiseptic constantly tickles his nose as Katsuki lays in the godforsaken hospital bed after the war. Everything aches and it’s hard to breathe most days. The doctors said one of his lungs collapsed when his heart exploded. Turns out threading the muscle fibers of a heart back together in the middle of a war zone is a terrible way to triage a fatal wound but if it hadn’t been done, Katsuki would never have made it to the hospital. He would have died long before the battle ended, and that thought terrifies him. The nurses have to sedate him at night in order for him to get any sleep otherwise the night terrors make him thrash violently, ripping out wires, stitches, and IVs. It's a headache for everyone involved and sometimes Katsuki wishes the pro heroes hadn’t sacrificed so much to save him. Edgeshot is gone, and for what? He’s a mess. He’ll never be able to use his quirk the same way again. He’ll likely never be able to go pro now. His power has been cut in half. A prosthetic can’t sweat, which means he can now only create explosive blasts from his left hand. He won’t be able to fly anymore. God, Katsuki was so elated the first time he successfully flew in the air. There was nothing more freeing than launching himself hundreds of feet above the ground in a matter of seconds. Even Bird Brain can’t go that fast.

It's one of his bad days, where he’s left alone with his thoughts, staring out the window as life goes on, when there’s a knock at the door. It opens without him responding. It still hurts to talk. The nurses and doctors tell him he needs to conserve his energy and rest. He hates laying in a bed unable to move. His gaze drifts slowly toward the door. His vision is blurry, but that bright red hair is distinguishable anywhere. Kirishima moves to sit on the left side of Katsuki’s bed where he can see him best. The doctors said they managed to save his right eye, but he’s going to need one damn strong prescription to see out of it properly again.

“How are you feeling today?” asks Kirishima, smiling softly. He asks the same question every day because he comes to visit Katsuki every day. Even his parents aren’t here that frequently. They make do but their architectural firm is even busier than before. They’re helping with the relief efforts to rebuild the country. They’re true heroes unlike the bedridden shell he has become.

Katsuki reaches for his oxygen mask and lowers it to his chin. “Wish I could leave,” he says, because it’s the truth. Maybe his mood would be better if he weren’t stuck in this bed all the time.

“They’ll let you out soon,” says Kirishima. He sets his hand atop Katsuki’s and lifts the mask back over his mouth. They both know it’s not true. He has months of extensive recovery work in the hospital before he gets out, but the warmth from Kirishima’s hand and the kindness in his voice are comforting enough that he almost believes it.

Katsuki lets his hand fall to his side and turns his head, cheek brushing against the pillow as he squints to see Kirishima better. He closes his bad eye, looking only out of his left and his vision clears. He’s wearing his school uniform. Class has been back in session for a few weeks. Kirishima must have come as soon as school let out. He’s talking about something, but Katsuki misses it. There’s a ringing in his ears that comes and goes—tinnitus, another wonderful side effect of having overworked his quirk the way he did. He tries to focus, and the ringing slowly subsides.

“—sent me flying but I was able to stop him. Man, I don’t want to praise a villain, but Rappa is so strong, and he just wants to fight other strong people. It really made me feel good that he saw me as a rival. Probably the last time I’ll get to fight him though… The government is doing a massive overhaul on all the high security prisons.”

Katsuki blinks, trying to register everything Kirishima was just saying. It’s slow. His mind is sluggish from all the painkillers he’s on. He reaches for the oxygen mask again, lowering it to speak. “You fought that big guy… from the yakuza?”

Kirishima nods. The sunlight filtering in through the hospital room window casts a halo over the crown of his head. It suits him. Kirishima has always been angelic. He shrugs, suddenly looking self-conscious about bragging and says, “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t be excited. Everyone was risking their lives and I know the battles were hard. There was a lot of emotional damage done on the others: Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki… I guess for once it was just nice to know that a villain thought of me as their equal and wanted to fight me.”

“You’re my equal,” Katsuki says but even as he says the words, he doesn’t believe it. Not because Kirishima isn’t strong enough, no, on the contrary. He’s stronger than Katsuki. Katsuki isn’t Kirishima’s equal.

They fall into silence after that, neither one of them sure how to carry the conversation from there. Katsuki’s mind wanders. He doesn’t like it when his mind wanders. The quiet scares him, so many new fears he didn’t have before. His eyes fall shut. He’s tired, always tired, but he doesn’t want to sleep, not with Kirishima beside him.

Kirishima clears his throat. “I—uh—I’ll go. You should get some rest.”

Katsuki snaps his eyes open to see Kirishima scratching the back of his neck. He moves to stand, and Katsuki reaches for him much too quickly. He winces, feeling his stitches tug on his skin, and grabs Kirishima’s hand. “Don’t go,” he says, beneath his oxygen mask.

Kirishima sits back down slowly and carefully picks up Katsuki’s hand, placing it back on the bed. “Okay, I’ll stay,” he says. “I’m not sure what to talk about.”

Katsuki moves the stupid fucking mask. “Anything,” he croaks. “Anything to fill the silence. Please.” He hates begging. His chest aches and his throat is thick as he fights back tears. He doesn’t want the quiet to come. Mindless rambling was always annoying but not when it’s Kirishima’s. His voice fills Katsuki with immeasurable comfort. He won’t tell him that though, not in the hospital hooked up to tubes and wires. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to Kirishima but not here, not like this. So, he’d rather listen until the day comes when he can be independent again and it doesn’t hurt to breathe, when looking at the void where his arm used to be doesn’t fill him with a sadness as deep as the Mariana Trench.

“Okay,” repeats Kirishima. He sits silently, contemplating, then smiles. The evening’s golden light makes him glow as he parts his lips to speak. “Have you ever heard the story of the barbarian prince and his dragon companion?”

Katsuki knits his brows together, studying Kirishima. “No.”

“Hah. Okay.” Kirishima scratches the back of his neck again like he does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about? “It would be so cool to live in a fantasy world with magic and stuff.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Our world is fantastical enough as it is.” He puts the mask back on and sucks in a deep breath. His lungs burn but they’re thankful for the added rush of air. “Go on,” he says into the mask. It’s stifled, but Kirishima hears him. Katsuki watches the bob of Kirishima’s Adam’s apple and the way he picks at his nails. He’s stalling.

“So, once upon a time—”

“Once upon a time,” Katsuki barks. It hurts to laugh. He coughs and Kirishima admonishes him for it.

“Be quiet and let me tell the story.”

“Fine,” Katsuki concedes. He relaxes into the pillow and shuts his eyes so that he can listen properly, envisioning the world Kirishima is about to create in his head.

“A long time ago there was this fierce barbarian prince. His family owned the largest kingdom in the entire land. They were well respected; feared by their enemies and loved by their people. The prince was strong and handsome and manly. Everyone wanted to be him or court him. He was very direct about what he wanted and while it rubbed some people the wrong way, others admired him for how straightforward and determined he was. His strength wasn’t just physical either. The prince was super smart and tactical. His magic was unmatched. So, he got bored easily. There wasn’t anyone he considered his equal because of how strong he was. He wanted to fight even stronger people to prove he was worthy of leading someday.”

Katsuki lowers his mask and speaks without opening his eyes. “He sounds cool.”

“Yeah,” says Kirishima fondly. “He really is.”

That makes Katsuki crack his eye open and peer at the soft expression on Kirishima’s face, the way the corners of his mouth are just slightly upturned, and the look in his red eyes is a little distant. Katsuki’s heart aches seeing him like that and not because of his injury. Kirishima clears his throat and continues.

“The prince decided to set out on a journey to find someone he could call his equal. He met and battled all sorts of people and creatures on his journey but none he would call worthy of being his partner. He slayed some ogres, fought some bandits, cleared out a cave of goblins, and while he enjoyed the fights, they never left him feeling satisfied. He had been traveling alone for a while when he heard rumors of a dragon nearby. The prince decided to check out whether or not the rumors were true. He wanted to take on the challenge of fighting a creature as big and strong as a dragon.

“He went to the forest where the dragon’s den was supposed to be and followed a trail that seemed too big to be anything but. The dragon was eating when the prince found him. He made a warning growl, but the prince wasn’t deterred. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the dragon, shouting, ‘Hey, you overgrown lizard! I want you to fight me and if I win, you have to become my partner!’

“The dragon huffed a breath of warm air and said, ‘If I win, you’ll be dead,’ which made the prince grin triumphantly.”

Katsuki snorts. “The prince sounds like an idiot.”

“Yeah,” says Kirishima, “but that didn’t stop him. He fought the dragon with his sword and with his magic, sending waves of fireballs at the beast. It was a heated battle.” Kirishima laughs at his own joke. “The prince used his spells to propel himself into the air to avoid the dragon’s lethal tail swings and the dragon spewed flames from its mouth into the air to keep from burning the forest. The dragon was enjoying the battle almost as much as the prince was. They both found someone worth fighting for once. The sound of sword clashing against scale echoed through the trees, and trenches were dug from the dragon’s massive talons scraping against the ground. The prince was getting tired and knew if he didn’t finish the battle quickly, he would die, so he landed on the dragon’s snout and swung his sword, slashing just above the dragon’s eye where the scales were thinnest.

The dragon shook him off and wrapped its giant hands over its face, covering its eye. Gradually, it’s size began to shrink until it was the size of a human man. The dragon stood in front of the prince with one hand covering his eye and the other held out for the prince to shake. ‘Looks like you win,’ said the dragon. The prince stared at him, surprised to see the dragon look so human. His eyelid was bleeding, but the dragon didn’t seem to care. He smiled at the prince and spread his large red wings wide behind his back.

“‘You can shapeshift!’ said the prince, taking the dragon’s hand. The dragon nodded and pulled his other hand away from his face with blood trickling down his cheek. The prince pulled his hand free and tore a part of his cloak, handing it to the dragon. ‘Here. Use this to help stop the bleeding,’ he said. The dragon took it and pressed it to his eye.”

A knock on the door startles them both and Katsuki looks to see the nurse walk in. “Apologies, but visiting hours are over now.”

Kirishima bows apologetically. “Sorry. I’ll go now.” He turns to Katsuki and smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bakugou.”

Katsuki pulls the mask off his face and takes a slow breath. “You better tell me the rest of the story.”

Kirishima beams at him, thrilled that Katsuki wants him to continue. “Promise.” He holds out his pinky and even though Katsuki rolls his eyes, he happily locks pinkies.

***

Kirishima returns the next day as soon as school lets out. He’s red in the face from running the whole way from the bus stop. Katsuki’s brows arch as he watches Kirishima stumble to take his seat next to the bed. “H-hey,” he greets, breathless.

Katsuki lowers his mask. “Why the rush?” His voice is raspy. He had physical therapy earlier in the day which resulted in an abundance of shouting and cursing from the pain.

Kirishima drops his bag on the floor and slides the chair up against Katsuki’s bed, placing himself inches away. “Just wanted to get here as quickly as possible. I know how lonely you get.”

“M’not lonely.”

They both know it’s a lie, but Kirishima doesn’t call him out on it. Instead, he smiles and says, “Where did we leave off yesterday?”

Katsuki buries himself in the pillows and holds his oxygen mask in his hand. “Shitty dragon lost to the prince.” The elastic on the mask snaps and smacks against his face. Katsuki scowls.

“You deserved that,” teases Kirishima. “The dragon isn’t shitty. He’s manly.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Kirishima starts to talk again, recounting the story as if he had been there in that fantasy land. The dragon and the barbarian prince travel together. They make the perfect pair and even though the prince beats him in battle, he doesn’t look down on the dragon. They’re a partner duo, not master/servant. They spend all their time together visiting new lands, fighting monsters, defeating bad guys, taking on odd jobs when one is posted. They don’t need the money, the prince brought a hefty amount of coin with him on his journey and the dragon has a lofty sum accumulated in his horde, but they take the pay. They donate it whenever possible. The prince never tells anyone who he is. He wants to see the kingdoms as a traveler, not as royalty, and he doesn’t fear death by anonymity. They’re too strong to be killed.

“—the dragon admired the barbarian prince. Everyone admired him. The people they helped showered him with praise, but they were wary of the dragon. Whenever they turned in a job, the dragon would stay back so that the villagers wouldn’t be afraid. The prince would collect their reward and head back to him. He always smiled after hearing how good of a job he did. When the dragon would tell him the same, he’d just shrug it off and say it wasn’t a big deal.

“The dragon would brush it off. He was happy enough just getting to adventure with the prince, so they’d head to the next town and take another job. They’d camp in the woods or find an inn to stay at. It was the two of them against the world.”

Everyday after school Kirishima would rush to Katsuki’s bedside. Work studies are canceled for the near future, so he has time to kill. The HPSC and the Japanese government are both in the middle of rebuilding. Because of that, they decided that student hero work would be put on pause indefinitely. That was one less thing for Katsuki to worry about falling behind at, not that he has any shot of going pro anymore.

He listens as Kirishima continues to tell stories about the dragon with his impenetrable scales and the barbarian prince with his explosive fire magic. With each visit, Kirishima becomes livelier with his storytelling. Katsuki watches as he jumps around the room, pretending to be the characters fighting. He watches the way Kirishima stands on the chair as if they’ve just conquered a battle. He laughs when the nurses chide him for his outlandish behavior, and Kirishima’s forced to apologize and sit down. It brightens Katsuki’s days, and he feels less like he wishes he had died.

They meet other people on their adventures, but in the end, it’s always the barbarian prince and the dragon. The two of them are inseparable and they don’t feel the need to have others around for exceedingly long. They explore caves, they slay monsters, and when one is injured, the other does everything in their power to tend to the wounds. When they camp, the dragon varies between sleeping in his full form or as a human. On cold nights, he takes his true form, allowing the barbarian prince to curl up next to him and leach off his body heat. When it’s warm, they sleep in bedrolls beside one another, the campfire crackling a few feet away. They never pitch tents—they block the view of the stars above.

It's romantic, though Katsuki won’t admit that thought aloud.

After two weeks of Kirishima’s storytelling, he gets to a part he has difficulty with. Katsuki watches him struggle to tell the story the same way he did when he first started telling it. He assumes Kirishima is likely running out of ideas for it, until he finally speaks.

“One night, the barbarian prince and the dragon got separated. They agreed to meet up later in the evening after completing a lengthy list of errands they needed to run. While they were a part, an evil warlock that specialized in torture and death magic captured the prince. He had apparently been watching them for some time. The dragon was devastated when he found out. If he hadn’t left the prince’s side, then maybe he never would have been captured.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure,” says Katsuki.

Kirishima gives him a sad smile. His lips are turned up, but his forehead is scrunched, and he shakes his head. “He should have been there. The dragon will never forgive himself for not being there.”

“It’s just a story,” says Katsuki, studying Kirishima carefully.

“Yeah,” says Kirishima. He sighs. “The dragon sent an urgent message to some of the people they met while traveling. They were able to help him find the warlock’s location and cause a distraction for him. When the warlock and his allies were distracted, the dragon swooped in from above and called out to the prince. He used his fire magic to launch himself into the air and land right on the dragon’s back. The rest of their friends withdrew, and the dragon scooped them up as well. They made a hasty retreat. When they were far enough from the warlock, the dragon set their friends on the ground, thanked them, and flew off into the night with the prince.

“They found an inn to stay at. The dragon didn’t want to risk being out in the forest, so they paid for a single room. It took a lot of reassuring from the prince that he was okay for the dragon to calm down. He kept getting worked up and starting to transform and the prince had to remind him that the fees would come out of his horde if they destroyed the inn because he went ‘full dragon’ while they were inside. The dragon didn’t sleep that night. He laid awake until the sun came up, watching the prince as he slept. Whenever his eyes shut for even a few seconds, he would fear the prince was gone again or that he failed to rescue him in the first place.”

Katsuki’s chest ached and not because of the open-heart surgery. Kirishima wipes away a few stray tears with the back of his hand and turns to look out the window, trying to hide his breakdown. Katsuki knows he can be dense at times but he’s not clueless. He sees the lines in the sand for what they are. He wishes he could reach out and properly comfort Kirishima, but Katsuki is limited to the small range of motion he has on his shitty hospital bed. So, he quietly waits for Kirishima to compose himself and carry on with the story.

***

Kirishima keeps telling tales of the prince and dragon each day he comes to the hospital. Katsuki doesn’t have any more bad days. There were tough days, but no longer did he wish he were dead. Instead, he stares at the clock, waiting impatiently for the redhead to arrive. His stomach flutters every time Kirishima walks through the door. It’s annoying as fuck because Katsuki still doesn’t have a deadline on when he can leave the fucking hospital. And it’s getting harder to stay quiet about it. He knows the implications buried in the stories Kirishima tells. The dragon and the prince are more than friends, even if Kirishima doesn’t outright say it. It’s also blatantly obvious that they’re a metaphor but he’ll play along for now. It’s all he really can do.

“They helped a pair of knights from the neighboring kingdom search for the lost prince of that kingdom. While they searched, the prince ran into someone he knew from his childhood. They hadn’t been on the best of terms growing up, but as they worked together to search for the prince who had apparently run away from home after a fight with the king, they had finally managed to work together and grow a true bond of friendship. The dragon was proud to see how much he had changed in such a brief period of time, and the barbarian prince’s friend knew all sorts of facts about dragons that even the dragon himself didn’t know. The dragon couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about that.

“They escorted the prince back to his palace. He thanked them. Even though he ran away, he was glad to be home. The neighboring prince had gotten into a lot of trouble on his own. He said people kept getting mad at him for no reason and he was covered in scratches and bruises from wandering in the forest. The barbarian prince said it was pretty obvious why people hated him. He was scolded for that, but the neighboring prince didn’t seem to get what he meant. That was probably for the best.”

Katsuki snorts. That idiot has to be Kirishima’s personification of Todoroki. It makes sense. The fucker is as dense as a board of plywood. Kirishima will never admit it, but he obviously thinks so too. Katsuki’s gonna pocket that one for later. He knows it’ll come in handy eventually.

Kirishima stays until Katsuki finishes his dinner, then he leaves so that the nurses don’t yell at him. They like to hover outside the door, lacking confidence in a teenage boy doing anything on time. They’re not wrong. Given the chance, Katsuki is certain Kirishima would stay long after visiting hours end. He’d spend the night if he could. Katsuki sort of wishes he could. His days might be better, but his nights are still rough. He could use a familiar face at his bedside as he tries to sleep. He lacks the comfort of friends and family at night. He’ll take that admission to the grave. They’ll all get too full of themselves if he ever says it aloud.

The better days bleed into better nights. He wakes up with less panic attacks, which means the nurses sedate him less often. That leads to mornings that are less groggy and quicker to start. The doctors say the ophthalmologist will be able to visit him soon and get him fitted for a pair of glasses. Katsuki is thankful. The blurry vision makes him dizzy and gives him headaches which require more medication. The ouroboros that is his life. He briefly wonders how stupid he’ll look in glasses and then remembers he looks good in everything he wears.

***

One afternoon, Kirishima comes in with a story of even greater magnitude than the rescue mission the dragon had gone on to save the prince. He talks about how the evil sorcerer has mounted a retaliation, pissed off with the way things went previously. The sorcerer knows who the prince is, and he declares war on the kingdom. The prince and the dragon have to call on all their allies to help them fight the sorcerer. The prince reaches out to the king and queen who mount their army and request aid from the neighboring kingdoms.

Katsuki sits up in his bed on his own. He’s finally able to do so without it hurting. He’s got a wicked grin on his face as he smiles at Kirishima. He lifts his mask and says, “I bet the prince kicked his ass good.”

Kirishima laughs solemnly and nods his head. “Yeah. Yeah, he did, but it takes everyone to defeat the sorcerer and not without casualty. They lose important allies. They mourn the loss of their friends and comrades, and the prince… The prince is severely injured. He’s on bedrest in the palace. Servants come and go tending to his wounds and bringing him meals. They wash him and bathe him because he’s too weak to get out of bed. The prince is alive, but at a great cost. All the while he’s in his bed, the dragon is at his side. He’s there from sunup to sundown, only leaving to stretch his wings in the sky and bathe. Then he returns to the prince’s side once more.

“The barbarian prince heals quickly. The royal healers use strong magic on him, and in no time, he’s back on his feet. He’s offered the crown, but he turns it down. He says he’s not ready to take over yet. He wants to keep on adventuring. So, he does, and his dragon is right by his side. The dragon is in awe of him. He doesn’t feel admiration for the prince anymore. It’s grown into something more, something deeper. The dragon likes the prince more than any treasure in his horde. It’s been that way since before the battle with the sorcerer, but he’s been too afraid to say anything.”

“Why?” asks Katsuki. His words are muffled behind the mask.

Kirishima stops talking and looks at him confused. He quirks a brow as he says, “Huh?”

Katsuki clears his throat. “What was the dragon so fucking afraid of?” he asks, callus as ever. “Did he think the barbarian wouldn’t want him? After everything we—they’ve been through?”

Kirishima splutters. “Well, maybe the dragon was afraid they wouldn’t last. Maybe he was afraid that once their time adventuring ended, that would be it. Maybe the barbarian would realize just how strong he is and that he doesn’t need the dragon’s help anymore. Maybe he’d decided to finally move on and find a stronger partner once he realized just how weak the dragon really was. They made a lot of friends on their journeys and the prince even reconciled with an old friend from his childhood. He might think one of them was a better option. Anyone was better than the dragon.”

Katsuki wrenches the mask from his face and tosses the stupid thing down on the bed so that it’s not in his way. He can breathe fine on his own now, but the doctors insist he keep using the mask for a while longer.

Kirishima lunges forward to reach for the mask. “Bakugou wh—”

“That’s fucking dumb,” snaps Katsuki. “If I had a kickass dragon as a partner, I think I’d wanna adventure with him forever.” Kirishima puts the mask back on his face and Katsuki huffs. He folds his arm across his chest and glowers at Kirishima. Kirishima’s cheeks flame red and Katsuki breaks eye contact, directing his focus on the wall across the room. His face is warm but he’s not fucking blushing because Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t blush like a bashful little girl. If his face is pink, it’s because the hospital room is unusually warm.

Kirishima smiles beside him and continues the story. “Well, maybe the dragon finally gets enough courage to confess once the barbarian prince is healed after the big battle. They set off on their adventure together again and the dragon searches for the perfect spot to tell the prince how he feels. There’s a clearing near where they first did battle. It seems like as good a spot as any. It’s the place they first met and where they first fought. It’s important to them, so he takes the prince there, and he finally tells him how he feels. It’s terrifying.”

Katsuki lifts the mask again, determined to speak without it hindering his voice. “The dragon better be ready for the barbarian to one-up him before that. He’s not clueless. He would take them somewhere they would both enjoy, maybe with some nice dumbass sunset or some shit. The prince already made the dragon his once. He’s gotta do it again, but official.”

Kirishima tears up. Fat, wet tears track down his face as he smiles. He chokes back a sob and nods his head. “I think the dragon would like that a whole lot.”

Good, Katsuki thinks. Now, he just needs to get out of this damn hospital bed so he can prove to the ‘dragon’ just how much the ‘barbarian prince’ cares about him.

Link to fic on AO3

[randoms-fandoms]

Hi!! Can I please request the ninja(from Ninjago) X older brotherly reader platonicly?? Ofc where the reader acts like an older brother to each of the ninja.

If U can only do one may it please be kai that boy needs some brotherly affection

Have an amazing day💖

YES IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE KAI CONTENT :D in this one, the reader will actually be Kai’s (and Nya’s) older brother :)

Warnings: none, I just make things unnecessarily sad and Kai has a breakdown.

Relationships: Jay has a crush on Nya 🫢

Kai had always had a hard time expressing himself. That, paired with his strong emotions, lead to one thing: consequences.

He picked fights. When he didn’t like something, everyone knew. He was constantly rumbling with other kids in his neighborhood growing up, and you (as his older brother) typically had to patch up his wounds afterwards.

Not much about this aspect of Kai changed you and your younger siblings moved in with Sensei Wu and the rest of the ninja— except now, Kai got in bigger fights, with his friends, and you were now realizing that your job had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

“You should go check on Kai.” Nya said, poking her head into your room on the Bounty.

You groaned, already having a headache from trying to work out your responsibilities with the blacksmith shop. The building had already been repossessed, but somehow the local government hadn’t got the memo and was still sending you business taxes. Still, no matter how hard it got, you refused to ask Sensei for help.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry about it.” You said to Nya after a pause. She nodded, not quite comforted, and left the room.

Leaving the papers on your desk— that way I won’t forget about them— you stood up and stretched. You had been working for quite some time; it was already nearly dinner.

You found Kai in the ninja’s shared bedroom, lying on his bunk facing away from you. He held completely still, obviously pretending to be asleep.

“Hey.” You said, sitting on one of the other beds.

Kai didn’t turn around. He didn’t say a word.

“How’ve you been?” You tried again.

This one got a reaction: “Just fine.”

You didn’t believe that for a second, and were kind of losing your patience. Why does he always do this?

“Okay. Why are you in here instead of training?”

Kai groaned and flopped onto his back. “Because I don’t want to! Just leave me alone!”

You briefly regretted not asking Nya for more details when she initially came to you. Kai rarely ever told you what was on his mind.

“I can help you, you know.” You said, impatiently. “Whatever you’re dealing with this time—“ you struggled to make your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “We’ve always done things together, why can’t—“

“You don’t get it!” Kai shouted, sitting up. “You’re not a ninja!”

“So what?” Your expression didn’t change. You felt bad for pressing his buttons, but you knew he’d get over it. “I still want to do what I can.”

“What could you do?” He asked.

You frowned. I don’t know. You were silent for a moment. “…I’m sorry, Kai.”

Kai glared. It wasn’t very threatening, with fresh tears running down his face. “Why.” He demanded. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, this is just how it is.” He replied bitterly. “So don’t apologize. There’s nothing you can do.”

You had no idea how to make him understand just how much his pain broke your heart.

You remembered when he was younger… how excited he was when you finally let him help make weapons. How he always hid his report cards from you so you wouldn’t know he was failing. How he put on a brave face after your parents went missing, how he’d insist on staying awake to protect your home during the night.

Kai sighed. He took a deep breath. He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

“Who are you fighting with?” You tried, voice lowered, almost a whisper.

“All of ‘em.” Kai replied just as quietly, shaking his head. “…Jay.”

You looked over him more closely, noticing a bruise forming under his right eye. You didn’t comment on it. “What about?”

“Family stuff.”

You nodded in understanding. Kai was easily ignited when it came to his family.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you, he’s just kind of an idiot sometimes.” You said sincerely. Jay really was a sweet kid, you thought, but he was kind of tactless.

Kai frowned. “I’m not upset, he’s just being stupid.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s dumb.” Kai prefaced, not meeting your eyes. “We were training, and you know how he likes Nya…”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded along. You knew Kai was protective of Nya in general, but his anxiety really amped it up after your parents went missing. You also knew that Jay was aware of this, at least the first part.

“He said we could duel, and if he wins he gets to ask her out.”

“You know he’s not going to do that,” you reasoned.

Kai nodded. “Whatever. He won obviously, you know I’m not that good at fighting—“

“No way dude,” you objected.

Kai just rolled his eyes. “—anyway, I got all mad, and he made fun of me. I was pissed. Whatever.”

You knew that wasn’t the full story. “Anything else?”

“He said… that Nya prob’ly hates me ‘cause I’m so— you know.” Kai scrunched his face up, trying not to cry again.

You stood and made your way across the room to sit next to him on the bed, waiting for him to start breathing again. When he did, they came ragged and short. “Kai.”

Kai turned away, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He rolled over to face the wall, whole body shaking from the effort to hold on a sob. The room was completely silent.

“Kai, he wouldn’t say that. It’s not true.”

Kai finally broke, gasping and sobbing. He balled his fists up in his hair, groaning in protest.

“Come on, bud.” You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe.” You gently pulled him into a sitting position and modeled measured breaths for him while he coughed and heaved, still not wanting to cry. “You gotta breathe. It’s okay to make noise.” You said more firmly.

Kai shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. You gave up and just held him, tightly, regretting that you couldn’t remember the last time he’d let you hug him. How did we get to be like this?

Kai finally began to cry in earnest. He cried hard. He was hurting too much to hold it back anymore, head pounding, lungs burning, bruises from training blooming on his ribs.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. It would be easy to comfort Nya if she was breaking down, but with Kai, you didn’t want to accidentally set him off again. So you just waited.

When Kai finished crying, he just lie back on his bed, exhausted and angry-looking. His face was red as he wiped his tears with his sleeve.

You found his backpack and dug around in it until you found his water bottle and a box of pain relief pills. He took them wordlessly, before handing the bottle off to you so you could take some as well. Your head was killing you.

“You hungry?” You asked. Kai shook his head. “Okay, I’ll let you skip dinner tonight if you promise to have a midnight snack later.” He nodded.

You stood up, pausing. “Uh, Kai?”

He still didn’t say anything, not looking at you. You thought he might be embarrassed about crying. I should probably leave.

“Nya loves you. I love you too.” You said a little awkwardly. “And you know what? I bet Jay loves you. And Cole, and Zane, and Wu… so just…” your confidence wavered when a tear slipped down his cheek. “You can tell us if something’s bothering you. I know it’s hard to be a ninja.”

Kai nodded. He took a shuddering breath. “Thanks,”

You nodded. “Any time. Get some rest.”

As you left the room, you checked your phone. It was ten minutes into dinner time. You were hungry.

You also noticed, a moment later, a text from Jay.

Is Kai ok?

You smiled, exhausted, and just replied with a thumbs up emoji. I’m turning in early tonight.

A/N: Jay actually said “I bet Nya hates how overprotective you are” btw Kai is just depressed and thinks everyone hates him. Anyway hope you enjoyed ❤️

[hermanunworthy]

haiiiii... you asked for hermie asks so erm. what do you think hermie was like in chaparral (is that how its spelled?)

i imagine that as herman he was a regular good student- kind of uninteresting, not exactly memorable. almost forgettable.. chaparral feels like the more well funded, a bit more prestigious (like they get high grades or smth) but still a bit dull... this is purely to contrast with hemie's theatre kidness. yknow. But idr if it was portrayed differently (and i dont know how american highschools work) so uh what do you think!

hiya i was gonna respond to this last night but i ended up getting a massive headache so i had to go to bed early 😞

this is a REALLY interesting thing to think about, and something ive been trying to figure out! i think my idea of chaparral hermie/herman mostly aligns w urs. i imagine they really tried hard to blend in while also internally feeling a desperate need to stand out. their inclination for mischief probably manifested itself in more subtle, trivial ways, like cheating on tests and sneaking into classrooms and such. little things that wouldnt get them found out by their parents (bc they probably did before and it screwed things up for herman), but could still give them that satisfaction of doing something they werent supposed to. as a kid, i think they were more of a troublemaker, and probably didnt get along w other kids, bc they liked to pull childish pranks and maybe be a little rude due to low empathy (and ofc their scamminess and demonness agkdf). this probably concerned their parents greatly, and led them to be more strict w them, and for herman to conform more (aka just become more secretive. u know how kids are)

the way i imagine their physical appearance is like.... very normal and dull. black hair like their parents, shorter than they wouldve liked, no makeup, a manageable amount of acne to make them look like a regular kid, but not enough to seem gross. sucky bond levels of Average High School Kid, as much as they wanted to stand out. they tried to look as much like their parents kid as possible, even though it wasnt what they really wanted.

when they discovered their love for dc, they felt embarrassed about it and hid it from their peers and their parents, afraid that if they knew how intense and weird their interest was, they would have it taken away from them (BIGGG projecting here guys). they stole comics from the school library and hid them in their backpack. they wanted all kinds of dc merch and to go to comic con soooo bad but they kept it all to themself to the point of wanting to explode. their special interest was one thing nobody found out about, thankfully. amazingly

now. in terms of the mascot costume prank. what im really wondering is.... how much was the rest of the school on board w it? if it wasnt something herman did for the school itself, how was normal aware that it was something being planned? maybe... im thinking.... herman was like.. anonymously antagonizing the school and creating conflict between the two schools for shits and giggles. in my mind, herman was jealous of how san dimas students got to be so openly WEIRD and became.. a little obsessed w that school. ofc as soon as they saw that the school was doing joker as its play that year, their dc autism brain activated and they made their plan to infiltrate the school. doing tons of research on it, especially on the theatre department anddd the mascot!! bc they heard that normally oak swallows garcia was the WEIRDEST OF ALL. so this was not only a fun scam thing but a weird jealousy thing to get back at this kid they didnt even know for getting to be what they were never allowed to be. san dimas/teen high gave them a chance to be the person they had been born to be, and i think thats wonderful <3 (even though it led them to horrible danger and also to break a poor undeserving kids heart)

so! this ended up being more than i thought i had to say. but isnt that always how it is w me and hermie.... tldr i think chaparral herman had to mask a lot and hated it. thanks for letting me ramble gskdj !!

[gabapentinblues]

12.29.2024 nightly journal entry. (for anyone who wants to read about my life) tw; sh and substances

walked to seven eleven with my friend this morning and got coffee and a white monster and drank both right away so i really caffeinated and it felt nice. it was foggy and rainy outside but not that cold. wore the flannel i got with her yesterday at goodwill and the beanie i got for christmas. we dyed our hair yesterday and watched a horror movie, might watch another tonight. im trying to stay up later so im not sleeping so much and also wanting to have some more rituals and take better care of myself.

vi and i talked about me maybe getting a social worker but it seems really difficult for some reason. she tried to help me by looking things up before i left this morning which was sweet. she told me to mention it to my therapist so i probably will and maybe she can help me too.

i drove and hour back home n drank the rest of my monster and it was rainy, i called another friend bc she said her grandpa passed away suddenly yesterday but shes estranged from her family so she was feeling weird about the whole thing. i told her id come visit for the day.

stopped at home first and self harmed bc its just a habit at this point. i got blood on my clothes and didnt even care. i also cut on my forearm which i never do but i was just really craving that spot, i just dont like to bc its pretty visible and i dont have much space between my tattoos, but anyway it wasnt even that satisfying. i cut a lot and called my mom jbc i feel obligated to, we didnt really talk abt anything.

i still wanna tell her i just want to break my lease and move home bc i dont feel like i can do this anymore.

drove over to see my other friend and she made me more coffee, i visited w her and her cats. we're playing thru a video game together. i smoked a little even tho im trying to stop. tomorrow i'll try to go the whole day. we walked to target in the rain and i got some groceries i needed and discount press on nails

we made ramen w chili crisp which was really good. i talked about how i just still feel sad and fucked up about my break up and just depressed and lonely in general no matter what i do.

i texted another friend who im getting closer with happy birthday and she told me she cares about me and that she hopes i start feeling better soon. we've been texting back and forth today. i also heard from someone ive been talking with romantically on and off for a few months, im not expecting much there but maybe it will go somewhere. she wished me happy holidays and thats basically been it.

been avoiding the girl i kissed and had a nice date with at the start of december bc i dont trust myself to be able to maintain it and i just feel like she'll end up disappointed or just totally disinterested bc im uninteresting and unhappy so often. it just feels like another austin situation where she'll just get bored of me and i'll like her too much and be left behind.

got back to my apartment as it was getting dark without self harming again even though i really thought about it. avoiding all the dishes in my sink and avoided eating dinner. what i ate at my friends was fine. i had a breakfast and a lunch and the meds i needed to take. put on my cheap press ons, listening to music.

took a lot of gabapentin and i have a bad headache rn that i thought would go away but im just gonna ignore it. getting used to using this chromebook. i wouldnt have typed a post so long otherwise. maybe i'll do these every night, idk. ive missed typing on a keyboard. and knowing that my journal entries are going somewhere other than my notebooks is kinda nice

i guess its just another way to process things. maybe i'll work on writing styles and making it readable and engaging. for now its just stream of conciousness.

trying to drink enough water. gonna do my skincare. pick a movie to watch, and maybe set up a few more things on here before i go to sleep. maybe i'll read a little bit too. i want to start feeling better, i want to feel like im working towards something. im tired of everyday feeling like endless sameness.

anyway, goodnight

[solardick]

I camr ducke. Do anytuing in lofe. Cant have a job, cant have freinds. Not that i want any. Cant have a wife or a family. Cant game, camt watch tv. Everyaspect is predomiantly abusive. Always has been. Fuck my life. Trying to game but every match on every fucken game. Im always priority target number one. Three other allies. Four enemies. They all byass all the allies and come staright for me. Camt do shit. Over half thr time thr alloes hust stand there with armire watching me getting abusese by multiple enemies. Or they fuck off.

This fucken allynis busy attackig

T heir base. Do they defend it? No. Ignore the attck keeo the pressure on me.

And i hate feeling the emotional collective ambience. Of the world.

Loons loke they stop sending me my mail. No bills

Miral of the story dont tell people to fuckmoff who are intentiay aggravating you.

The favt its all plan out and premeditated. Doesnt gelp.

Yay for being tortured to death by assholes. Itswhole new age, uh? Might as well go back to the dark ages.

So i guess i cant be renewing my license. Paying my bills, or doing my income taxes. Doesnt that fall under a federal crime?

Guess their arent going to be too many more years of people foing this to me afterall. Jot amount of therapy can fix evil retards.

It be hard runnign away, like you want me too without a drivers license. Uh?

I sont knownifnim going backnto work. I think my life is over. The world has always been onesidely unfair and biased towards me. And im done. Twisted fucken freaks. Making me sick and then saying they want to help me.

Cant even take those sleep pills. By 7? I get pff at 7. And gwt up at 5. They dont fit jnto the timeline.

So another year of being attacked by fucken cocksuckers. But im not going to survive this one. N

Im gonna be dead soon. Cant wait. Tortured to death by the new age. And all the fucktard taping my existance for thr last 30 years.

Too bad these last frw weeks of gamign 16-18 hours a day are coming to a close.

Yay. Still being fucked with. Dont think ill be able to go too my day rape job tomorow morning. Too late to pop a sleep

Pill now uh?

Still being drugged and framed. Yay. Nice touch on thr phone caal from the moters house.

Slept all day eith a headaches. Inaturally drowsy. And now agitatuon.

Nope pills dont work.

Maybe try talking to the police , but they wont do shit wither.

Anyway. Those pills give the same feeling ive been getting inconsistently for the last few years. Shit ive been being drugged with. Shot i dont need.

That with the speed and the estrogen and god knows what else. Yup.

Ever since i was a child people have been fucken with me.

Tine for new ppst. But first. I i not like these pilld. Anli behind my eyes. Like a constan t dream state.

Science is useless here. No? Prove it. But to strengthen your bs alitle. Because yall retarded that way. Jesus can be said to represent nature as the colour green. The shade of all notions is left to the night. Where the moon is white because the sky is black. Arguement and complexity comes out when the military wears green. As the son of god is nature itself and the patriarchy is pure evil.

Y’all even read the bible?!. God is the devil.

It actually encourages evil. To punish the “chosen” to become divine. Bs.

All relatiinships are only functional when the sky shares by the luminaries. But are pitted agaisnt one another when they are not. To project existence so far out to space is where “humanity” fails at being peaceful.

Here your arguments against the present scheme are valid except for within ones own “home”. And not agaisnt the enemy outsode ones own borders. To protect is the nature of man. Twisted nowadays.

More, the sun is never shared the sky at night. Attaching human motives is lacking. No? Theres certainly isnt any « equality » on the issue of gender. Like its an issue.

Theres being no danger in the world anymore except for nations and fuckers. Ive never seen a bear or a lion before. Being indigenous to this country. Treat wveryone like babies and put buble wrap on everything. Its not like i need a duck anymore anyway.

Or join a sports tean and have zero influence on wether my tesm wins or not cause its fixed.