#Pls stop saying the g slur sir

[xpastelsweetsx]

Ope and we're busting out the big boy slurs

[rosethesongbird]

Alone

Content warning: violence, abuse, mentions of amputation, blood, vomit (emeto), drug abuse, temporary character death... this is a rough one, guys. 

Day to day life (if you could call being imprisoned in a basement with no windows “life”) was not easy, for Serizawa. Crawling around on the floor on amputated stumps with no companionship or help most of the time. One meal a day, at best. Bouncing back and forth between being so drugged up he couldn’t think straight and withdrawals that made him vomit until his throat bled. And on top of it all, living in constant fear of further violence—sometimes because of something he did. Sometimes because of something someone else did. Sometimes random, unprompted. Like he was a human punching bag. Sleeping on the floor like a dog, often in a puddle of his own blood, sweat, and tears. It was, quite honestly, hell.

Getting sick down there?

That was worse. 

The first sign was the fact that he slept. Most people lose sleep when they aren’t well. However, when you’re plagued by horrifying, vivid, realistic nightmares six or seven times a night, you don’t sleep well, ever. And yet there he was, getting shaken awake by Minegishi. 

“Serizawa, wake up,” he frowned. “Are you alright? It’s lunchtime,” 

“Mh,” he blinked his eyes open, using his bandaged upper arms to rub the sleep from them. “Must’ve been tired,” 

“Apparently. Come on, sit up. I’ve got okayu for you today.” Minegishi reached out his hand, gently lifting him off the floor, cautious when touching constantly bruised ribs. “You feel warm.”

“My head hurts.” Serizawa desperately wanted to squeeze the pressure points at his temples, strong fingertips rubbing all over his scalp, alleviating the headache. Really, that was what he missed the most about not having arms. It really made him realize how seldom he was touched. 

“I’ll ask President Suzuki if I can get some medicine for you. Here, eat. We’ll both get in trouble if he notices I’m down here too long.” 

He opened his mouth obediently, going through a few spoonfuls before wincing and turning away. “No more. I feel sick.” 

Minegishi frowned again. “Are you sure?” 

“Mm-hmm,” he squeezed his eyes shut, laying back down onto the cold concrete floor, supporting his head on what was left of his arms as he curled up into a ball. “I feel faint.” 

“I-I’ll try my best, but—he’s in a really bad mood already,” Minegishi hung his head in shame. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back until tomorrow.” 

He took in a shaky breath. His headache was getting worse. “Not your fault, M’negishi,” he whispered, slurring. “Don’ worry.”

He heard Minegishi sniffling as he rose, wordlessly, and left the room, door clicking shut behind him. 

Probably nothing, he thought. Maybe a weird one-day bug or something. Mama always said it was good to sweat a fever out, anyway.

I’ve handled worse. 

He lay there, face down on the floor, for what felt like hours; the only indication of his life being the slow, shaky rise and fall of his back with every breath. Focus. In and out. In and out. Don’t throw up. Focus. His head was pounding stronger and stronger, and he felt beads of sweat dripping off his forehead. 

He deeply regretted the few bites of porridge as they finally came back up, burning and stinging his mouth and nose until there was nothing left in his stomach. The motion of gagging and retching ignited a burning pain in his stomach.

He slowly crawled away from the vomit, spitting in a desperate attempt to get rid of the disgusting taste. The burning pain did not subside, and he felt an intense need to rub his sore stomach—like Mama did, when I was little, Mama, I don’t feel good. A sensation of freezing cold came over him as he started to shiver, cowering in the opposite corner of the room, his back to the door. Several short cycles of sleep went by, interrupted by waves of nausea causing him to gag, his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead despite still feeling like he was in a freezer. Focus. Focus. Breathe in, breathe out. You’re okay. Mama, help. It’s okay. You’re okay. Focus. In, out. Throw up. Don’t throw up. Breathe. Mama. 

He flinched, yelping at the sudden touch on his shoulder. The burning pain had graduated to an excruciating stabbing pain, with a feeling like someone twisting a knife every time he moved, and he realized his breathing was shallow in an effort to minimize it. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” said Minegishi. “I got some medicine for you. Open up.” 

“Mmmmh. Can’t,” he whined. “Throw up.” 

“Just try. It’s all I can give you.” 

He cautiously opened his mouth, allowing Minegishi to place a few pills on his tongue, as they had so many times before. Usually, it was a blessing, but to his fever-addled mind it was a source of barely contained panic. He swallowed anyway, hoping it would cause the pain to stop. 

The back of Minegishi’s fingers brushed gently across Serizawa’s face. “You’re burning up. Where does it hurt?” 

“Stomach,” he whimpered, already feeling the medication trying to rise in his throat. 

“Let me see.” Minegishi went to pull up his shirt, revealing the multitude of bruises all over his body in various states of healing. It’s okay. You trust Minegishi. Minegishi won’t hurt you. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Right here?” 

Serizawa screamed, seeing stars at the light pressure. Minegishi jerked his hand away at the sudden movement as the ailing man vomited from the pain, sobbing as he fell to the ground, curling in on himself in an effort to quell the waves of pain still emanating from the sore spot. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Minegishi stammered. “I… let me see if the President will let me—“

“No, no, please, please don’t,” he coughed, wincing. “Please, I’ll be fine, please don’t tell him, please—“ 

“Serizawa, I barely touched you and you screamed. You need a hospital.” He got up from the floor, walking toward the door as Serizawa exploded into feverish pleas of no, no, Minegishi, please, he’ll hurt me, please don’t, please, no, no no no. He began to weep as the door shut behind Minegishi. 

Mama, please. Please save me. Help. I need help. It hurts, I’m dying. I’m going to die. I have to protect myself. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t trust Minegishi. Minegishi wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. I have to, I have to. I have to trust Minegishi. I can’t trust anyone else. I can’t. No one cares about me. I’m dying. I’m dying alone. 

“You’re sick, Serizawa?” Touichirou crouched to the ground where he was curled up. Please. Please help. 

“I-I don’t know, sir,” 

“Minegishi here says you are. What’s wrong?” 

“M-my stomach, sir, it hurts—“ he gasped as Touichirou pulled up roughly on his shirt. “P-p-please, please be g-gentle sir—“ 

Touchirou’s two fingers pressed—hard—into the sore spot. It did hurt, but not the way Serizawa had expected. 

What hurt was when he let go. Excruciating agony, pulsing, burning, squeezing, he was screaming, he was wailing, he was dying, help, Mama, help me. He lost all inhibition as he continued weeping in front of the President and a horrified Minegishi. 

“Huh. It’s been a while since I heard you scream like that, Serizawa. Too bad you aren’t sick more often.” He jabbed his fingers into the spot once more as Serizawa shrieked before his eyes rolled back, going completely still as he blacked out. 

—

“Mama,” he cried, breaking into a sprint.

“Katsuya!”

They met in the middle, embracing, sharing tears of joy between them, his mother’s fingers in his hair. 

“I missed you so much, Mama.” 

“I missed you too, my heart.” 

She pulled back, looking at him, confused.

“Wait…you aren’t my son.”

“Mama, I am, I’m Katsuya,” 

“No,” she said, stepping back. “You’re disgusting. My son’s not like you. He’s not a cripple. He’s not a coward.” 

“Mama, I’m not—“ 

He reached out to her as his arms crumbled into dust, starting at the fingertips. 

“Look at yourself,” she said, bitterly. “You can’t comb your hair. You can’t wash yourself. You can’t feed yourself. You can’t do anything. You can’t even embrace your own mother.” 

“Mama, no, please, it’s me—“ he fell, kneeling, to the ground, losing sensation in his legs as they too faded away in the wind like ash. 

“You’re not my son.” She turned and walked away as he began wailing. 

“Mama, no, please, please come back Mama, please—“ 

“Mm… m… mama… pl… m…” 

“Shh, shh.” Shimazaki gently stroked the side of his face with the cloth Minegishi had given him. 

“How is he?” Minegishi walked in, summoned by the small pained sounds Serizawa was making.

“Delirious. He’s not really asleep but… not really awake either.” 

He crouched down to eye level with the man, now mercifully lying in a bed. “Serizawa, can you hear me?” 

Half-lidded eyes flickered, blinking, struggling to open towards the voice. “Ma…ma?” 

“No, it’s me, Minegishi. Can you feel this?” He began to vigorously rub Serizawa’s shoulder. 

A near-imperceptible lowering of the eyebrows, a shuddering sigh. Eyes dull, blurred, still barely open.

“I think that’s a no,” said Shimazaki. 

Minegishi sighed. “Okay, let’s try this. Can you feel this, Serizawa?” He steeled himself, gingerly placing a hand on his stomach and pressing lightly. 

His eyes shot open, screaming until his throat was raw, sobbing, back arching off the bed, coughing, retching, pleading, stop, Minegishi, stop, it hurts, stop, please. 

“Damn.” 

“Can’t you give him anything else?” Shimazaki cautiously began stroking him with the cloth again.

“I’ve already given him more than the max dose. Any more could kill him.” 

The excruciating touch had brought a few moments of awareness to Serizawa. After Touichirou’s rough handling, he had allowed Minegishi to move him to the infirmary as his condition worsened. The inordinate amount of pain medication he was given was enough to make his face and the tips of his stumps numb, tingling, buzzing like static—yet it still hadn’t touched the agony that had spread throughout his whole stomach. 

“Is this really okay?” He flinched as the tips of Shimazaki’s fingers brushed his sore abdomen. “His fever’s worse, and look, it’s starting to swell here.” I can’t move it. It hurts to move. It feels weird. 

“What do you want me to do, Shimazaki?” Minegishi snapped. “I’m not a surgeon, and even if I was the President won’t let me do anything.” Surgeon? I don’t want to have surgery. I’m scared.

“So what, then? We’re just going to let him die?” 

“Don’ wanna die,” he whimpered. Scared, I’m scared. Scared scared scared scared don’t wanna die. Don’t let me die. Can’t. Can’t die. Please. Mama, please. Scared. Help me. He began to panic, his breathing growing faster and shallower. 

“Shh, it’s okay, we won’t. We won’t let you die. Go back to sleep.” Shimazaki looked toward Minegishi pointedly before returning his focus to Serizawa.

“Can’t,” he moaned. “Hurts.” He would have given anything to have his hands back, or at least to have someone touch him gently, comfortingly. Mama. The ends of the manicured fingernails scrubbing his scalp. The slow, gentle circles on his chest. Anyone. He began to cry again, the sensation of tears touching his numb, overheating face almost unbearable, yet wiping them away was impossible. 

“We have to at least get that fever down,” said Minegishi, suddenly. “Could you handle a bath, Serizawa?” 

“Don’ know,” he said, gasping. “Could try.” Anything. Anything. Please. 

“Okay,” Minegishi let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay. I’ll go start one. Just… hold on.” 

He lay there for a moment, whining like a hurt dog, when suddenly Shimazaki spoke up. 

“I’m sorry, Serizawa.” 

“S’okay,” he somehow managed to choke out. “Not…your fault.” 

“I just…” he sighed. “I just wish we could do more.” 

“Mh, s’enough.” 

“It’s not, though. One of us should have stepped in.” 

“Th’ President’s… scary,” he wheezed. “Don’ blame you.” 

“That’s an understatement,” said Shimazaki, chuckling humorlessly. 

“Shimazaki, I—“ he started to panic, thinking of the suffering he had endured at President Suzuki’s hand— “can’t breathe,” 

Shimazaki laid his hand on Serizawa’s chest, gently, feeling for the rise and fall. “You’re okay, you’re breathing fine. Just slow down. Try to stay calm.” 

“It hurts,” he moaned. 

“Where?” 

“Everywhere,” he began to sob.

Minegishi ran back into the room, out of breath. “Okay, okay. Come on, Serizawa.” He slipped his arms under the feverish man, pulling him up quickly. 

Serizawa gasped, keening, writhing in pain at the sudden motion. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just for a minute. You’ll be okay.” He picked him up with ease. 

The pressure on Serizawa’s stomach from being lifted up caused him to yelp, sobbing, pleading that hurts, Minegishi, please, it hurts— 

Shimazaki jumped up, interjecting “Hold on, Minegishi, slow down—slow down for just a minute—“ 

Serizawa began to slip from Minegishi’s grasp as the two began to argue.

“No, look, we have to hurry and get the fever down,” 

“But he’s really sick, Minegishi, you can’t just grab him like that.”

“What, do you have a better idea?” 

“Don’t you think he’s in enough pain as it is? Who do you think you’re helping?” 

“Well, I’d like to see you try to help every once in a while—“

Minegishi absentmindedly shifted Serizawa onto his hip, trying not to drop him. 

The pain pulled at every nerve ending, every synapse, building—cresting—crashing—he vomited, screaming, choking on stomach acid, pressing his overheating face into Minegishi’s neck, inhibitions lost, desperate for the human contact yet just as desperately wishing Minegishi would put him down, please, please, it hurts, help— 

He heard the two men calling out for him, echoing, muffled, he was choking, hyperventilating, can’t breathe, hurts, no, no, not again, no, no more—

He closed his eyes, disordered speech trailing off, passing out. 

—

It’s okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. He’s really sick. He’s overheating. The water’s not that cold but it’ll wake him up right away. I’m sure. I’m sure he’ll start complaining as soon as he touches it. 

Minegishi’s thoughts seemed to echo Shimazaki’s calm, measured words. Yes, no sense in worrying. Surely, surely Serizawa would wake up from the sensation of the bath. 

He did not. 

The two of them gently—gently, this time—lowered him into the water, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, old worn sweatshirt billowing in the lukewarm bath to reveal the swollen, bruised abdomen. They started to let go, reassuring themselves, see, there he is, he moved a little—as he sunk, limp, into the water, Shimazaki’s heightened senses coming through in the clutch to catch his head as it lolled to one side, mouth open, breathing through dry cracked lips (but just barely). 

They sat there in silence, air in the room growing thick, heavy with the echoing thought what if he doesn’t wake up?

“If he wakes up, I—we have to take him to the hospital,” said Minegishi. 

“More so if he doesn’t, don’t you think?” Shimazaki responded. 

“I’m just—I don’t know how the President will react, but I can’t… I can’t sit by and watch this. I draw the line here.” 

Shimazaki nodded. He dipped his hand into the water, lightly pouring handful after handful of water over Serizawa’s hair. 

Minegishi approached, cautiously, uncharacteristically nervous. The pain he had caused to the man in the bath—whether by action or inaction—ate at the pit of his stomach like a parasite. He took a deep breath, steadying his shaky hands, and reached out to search for a pulse on Serizawa’s neck. 

“Well?” said Shimazaki. 

“It’s fast, but it’s weak,” he said, feeling around. “And something’s infected. His lymph nodes are all swollen.” 

“Has he cooled down at all?”

Minegishi frowned. “Maybe a little, but not much,” 

He pulled his hands away, swiftly, as Serizawa’s eyelids twitched and a low whine came from the gently parted lips. 

“Ah, there he is. See, I told you. Serizawa, wake up,” 

Serizawa struggled again to open his eyes. 

Sensation. Floating. Floating in water? Cold water. Hot. So hot. Overheating. Dying. Not dying. Breathing. Breathing. Talking? Someone is. Water. Clean—wash—bath. Gentle. Not gentle. Hurts, hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts gone. Sick. I’m sick. Me? My name. Who is it? 

“Mh,” he slurred, eyes opening, vision blurred through long eyelashes that Mama said were beautiful, so beautiful. Light. Ceiling. People, like me. They’re like me. They’re not like me. They have hands, and feet. 

“Hey,” said Shimazaki. Tears fell, unhindered, from Minegishi’s eyes, overcome with relief, I didn’t kill him, he’s alive. He’s alive. 

“Hhh... Shi… m…” lips slowly regaining feeling as the pain medication began to wear off still wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Shh, it’s alright. Don’t talk.” 

“Mm,” he nodded. 

“We’re going to get you to a doctor, okay? So don’t worry. Right, Minegishi?” 

Minegishi sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Right,” he sighed. “Right. How’s your stomach?” 

He moaned, voice cracking. Bad, bad, bad. Hurts. Wrong. Something’s wrong. Help. 

“I’m sorry… about earlier. I—well, I panicked.” 

He shook his head, weak, as Shimazaki poured another handful of water over his hair. “Nnn. No. S’okay.” It hurt. Hurt. Hurt hurt hurt. Don’t blame you. Hurt me. Accident. 

“Here, Minegishi. Let’s get him dry.” Shimazaki slipped his hands underneath what was left of Serizawa’s arms, slowly pulling, sliding him out of the bath. 

He whined, weak, in pain despite the careful handling. Minegishi wrapped a dry towel around his shoulders, holding him against his chest as he began to shiver in the cool air. 

“I’ll go talk to the President. See what I can get him to agree to.” 

Minegishi nodded, pulling Serizawa closer protectively. 

A feeling of warmth washed over the sick man’s face as he leaned back, relaxed despite the pain. Despite the uncertainty to come he was safe, for now, in the embrace of a trusted friend. His lips twitched into a smile, and he closed his eyes, sinking into the warmth. 

He awoke what felt like just a moment later, blearily, groggily, gasping, every breath feeling like his ribs were grinding together, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, looking toward an unfamiliar ceiling, and light, sunlight, blessed warm sunlight just barely filtering in through a nearby window. 

“That’s right, just breathe. Just keep breathing, you’re doing great, sweetheart.” A woman standing by his head was patting his cheek with her hand. Someone placed an oxygen mask on his face. Who are you? Who? Where? 

A man standing above him was shining a light in his eyes. He tried to pull his head away but it wouldn’t move. 

“Oh, thank God. I’ll go tell the guys who brought him in,” said a different woman, fading out of focus as she walked away. 

The people still in the room worked wordlessly, like he wasn’t even there, except for the woman at his head, still gently patting his cheek, running her fingers through his hair, speaking soft words of encouragement as he struggled to comprehend what was going on. 

Not… the basement? Where? Suddenly, he noticed the absence of Minegishi and Shimazaki, and began to panic. 

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” The woman at his head leaned over, stroking his cheek, cooing and whispering to him. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.” Hospital? President Suzuki. Why? How?

Will I get punished for this? 

“Come on, Serizawa-san, you’re alright, you’re okay,” said the woman. “Can we get him some more? He’s getting a little agitated,” she said, turning to look at the man who thankfully had stopped shining a light in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I think we can up it a little. Hold on.” 

Almost immediately, his eyelids began to droop. Fine, everything’s fine. 

“Try your best to stay with us, Serizawa-san. I know the drugs are probably making you drowsy, but try to stay awake for me, okay?” 

Okay. 

A familiar voice faded in, sobbing and hiccuping as the woman from before returned to the room. 

“Thank you, thank you—I just, well, he wasn’t breathing and I, I didn’t know w-what to do—“

“I totally understand. That must have been a really scary experience for you.” 

“Yeah. Serizawa really knows how to scare the shit out of us,” chuckled another familiar voice. 

“Hey, stay awake. Look, see, your friends are here,” the woman at his head rubbed her knuckles into the back of his neck, massaging a knot that he hadn’t been able to reach for months. 

Minegishi appeared at his bedside, eyes red, gripping a very used tissue in one hand like a security blanket; Shimazaki not far behind. He stood there for a moment, sniffling, before blurting out “I thought you were dead.” 

Shimazaki chuckled. “We both did. Thank God for my teleportation. Although I think it scared the nurses.” 

The woman at his head smiled. “We’ll get you fixed up soon, okay, Serizawa-san?” 

He nodded, somnolent. 

I’m not alone.

My friends. 

I have my friends. 

[lazy-town-asses-blog]

@sportalovely see i did it

this is from the awful au thought up by sportalovely. i might post the bridge to terabithia excerpt as well if this doesnt go badly

Robbie’s mom had kicked him out. He didn’t really know what to expect from a woman who preached against human rights, but it still hurt to hear her say she “didn’t want a cocksucking fag” in her home. Robbie took his jacket, his phone, and his well loved copy of “Machines: What Are They, and How Do They Work”, and never looked back. When he had gotten out of his good, Christian neighborhood, he had texted his cousin Glanni.

 R: “you were right”

 G: “where r u”

 R: “9 and elm”

 Robbie had been sitting on a park bench trying not to cry when Glanni pulled up in his junker. He took Robbie home with him (and Robbie may or may not have fallen asleep before they were out of the city).

 -

 “I’m headed out. Don’t forget your homework,” Glanni called. He was dressed for the night- a baggy gray sweatshirt (not at all his style), a pair of Robbie’s jeans folded up at the cuffs, and his signature catsuit hidden beneath everything.

 Robbie sighed from his spot slouched on the couch and grabbed his backpack. He pulled out a handful of crumpled assignments (half finished) and tossed them on the floor in search of his binder.

 “I’d better not see those on the floor when I get back,” Glanni warned.

 Robbie kicked them under the couch.

 “I don’t have time for this. Get your stuff done and get in bed,” He kissed Robbie on the top of his freshly showered head. “I’ll be back late, so don’t wait up.”

 “Wasn’t planning on it,” Robbie said to Glanni’s retreating back. Glanni flipped Robbie off over his shoulder.

 Robbie scoffed and turned back to the TV. It was a rerun of some crap documentary about World War 1, but Robbie didn’t have the energy to change the channel. If worst came to worst he would learn something about how awful the U.S. was at giving justice to the wronged.

 (haha foreshadowing)

 -

 Robbie had fallen asleep at around one in the morning, trying his best to ignore the late night horror movie that was playing. His sleep addled brain made the shitty special effects look more than real, and, though he was loathe to admit it, he really wished Glanni was already home to cuff him upside his head and send him to bed. Eventually he fell asleep, the light of the T.V. flickering and lighting up the room.

 It was early when he woke. Maybe six A.M., and Robbie was honestly shocked and appalled at himself. He had never woken up before 7:30, and, as far as he was concerned, any time before then had no reason to exist.

 He sat up and groaned. The couch was nice at one point, but years of use had made it lumpy and uncomfortable. His back ached. He reached for his phone and checked for any texts. There were no notifications, so he dragged himself to his feet and walked over to Glanni’s room. He wasn’t supposed to go in, but he just needed to know if he had actually come home.

 Robbie pushed open the door (the latch had broken years ago) and surveyed the room. Dirty clothes, food wrappers, flamboyant hats, and a plethora of papers littered the floor. The bed was empty, and Robbie frowned. Glanni had been home late some nights, but never this late. Robbie pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

 R: “where r u”

 He waited a for a response, staring down at his cracked phone.

 R: “when r u getting home”

 Nothing. Maybe Glanni had lost his phone. Robbie brushed that thought aside- Glanni had never once lost his phone throughout all the time Robbie had known him. So where was he, and why wasn’t he responding?

 Robbie’s heart began to race. Maybe something bad had happened. He called Glanni’s cell and began searching for his shoes and jacket.

 “Hey. Where are you? Call me back.” He fished his shoes out from under the couch and grabbed his coat from its place on the kitchen counter.

 He stepped out onto the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time, redialing Glanni’s number.

 “Hey, where the hell are you? Just… text me back. Please.” His voice shook as he hung up.

 He opened the heavy wooden door and shivered when the icy air hit him. He was shaking as he redialed Glanni again. His footsteps were heavy as he began to jog (unpleasant but worth it to find Glanni) down the sidewalk.

 A phone rang in the alley beside his building. He turned. It was dark, and the sunlight was weak and watery. There was someone curled in the alley. Robbie’s stomach dropped. He hung up and the ringing stopped.

 “Oh no. Oh no no no no no,” He started running toward the person.

 He was hit with the smell of human waste (not unusual for his neighborhood) and… was that blood? His heart was racing and his sneakers splashed in the pool of god-let-that-not-be-Glanni’s-blood oh god oh fuck where is his sweatsuit oh god fuck where is his pulse.

 Robbie’s hand shook as he tried to pull Glanni’s arm from under him. He was stiff and held the cold that seemed to seep into Robbie’s bones the longer he stayed kneeling by Glanni’s prone body.

 “Give- Let me check your pulse, you stubborn- Give me your wrist, Glanni.” Robbie jerked Glanni’s stiff hand away from his body and it immediately went limp.

 Robbie took a long, shuddering breath as he searched for the pulse point on Glanni’s icy skin.

 Nothing.

 Robbie’s hand shook as he pulled away. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Glanni’s eyes had been open. They stared, listlessly, at the side of his apartment building. Robbie couldn’t make himself touch Glanni to close them.

 His heart raced as he took in all of Glanni. There was a large bruise over his eye and it would be swollen if there was any blood to make it swell. His lip was also split, and he had a black eye. There were scratches all over him, and at least one of his legs was broken.

 Robbie pulled away, staggered to his feet, and hurled in the nearest trash can. He patted his pocket trying to find his phone to call 911, but it wasn’t there. He glanced around, panicked, and saw it lying next to Glanni’s  head. He took a deep breath and staggered over, scooped it up, and made a beeline for the other wall.

 He dialed 911.

 “H- My cousin- He’s-” Robbie stuttered.

 “Sir, I can’t understand you. Can you slow down?” The operator was condescending, and Robbie wanted to punch her stupid face for not understanding.

 “I ca- I can’t- My- He’s d- I-” Robbie pulled the phone away to retch.

 “Sir? Are you still there? Can you tell me where you are?” She asked.

“‘M at 3rd and Vine. Pl- I couldn’t- He’s not-” Robbie gagged again.

 “I’m sending a police officer and an ambulance. Can you stay on the phone with me?” She asked.

 “I’m- He’s not- Yeah, I- I can. Just- Just send them fast please he’s not breathing and I couldn’t-” Robbie choked on the lump in his throat. Saying it out loud made it real, and his heart felt like it was failing.

 “Did you check his pulse?” She asked.

 “Yes, I-” How could he not have checked his pulse? “I checked his pulse and I didn’t-” Robbie’s throat closed up.

 “Are you okay? Can you breathe? Talk to me,” She spoke loudly.

 His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his phone.

 “No- no, this isn’t- I’m not- He’s not d- This is just a joke and I’m- Fuck, I don’t- No this isn’t real I’m still watching T.V. and Glanni’s coming home and-” A violent sob shook Robbie and the tears pooling in his eyes began to fall.

 “Talk to me. Tell me about what you did this morning. Tell me what you had for breakfast,” She spoke coolly and calmly, trying to get Robbie to calm down. He wanted to hurt her for making him think about anything other than Glanni.

 “I- I- He didn’t text me back and I thought- Fu-” He hiccupped and curled one hand into his messy hair. “I’m not-”

 Sirens approached and Robbie staggered away from Glanni, pressed against the cold bricks in an attempt to stay upright. A squad car stopped on the street and two police officers ran towards him. Robbie dropped his phone and heard the distant, tinny sound of the dispatcher trying to get him to respond.

 “I’m- Glanni’s not-” One of the police officers caught him as he lurched forward, and the other waved the ambulance toward the alley.

 “Who? Who is that in the alley?” The officer asked.

 “My- my cousin Glanni Gl- Glaepur,” Robbie’s voice shook.

 The police officer seemed startled.

 “Glanni Glaepur? The drug dealer?” The officer tried to hold Robbie as he pulled away.

 “What? No, he- He didn’t- He didn’t deal- I don’t- He wouldn’t do that why would he do that why would you say that?” Robbie jerked back from the officer and tried to back towards Glanni. The other officer stopped him.

 “I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. The paramedics are trying to help him,” The officer said.

 Robbie turned and leaned around them to get a good look at what the paramedics were doing. He groaned when he saw the big black bag resting on the stretcher.

 “No, no they didn’t even try they didn’t even try to save him why didn’t they try-” Robbie was slurring his words and started to lean on the officer.

 The officer wrapped her arms around him and he noticed that she was a she and smelled slightly like strawberries and he nearly threw up again. She started to lead him away and towards the street where a crowd was beginning to gether, but he wouldn’t budge.

 “Come on. We need to get you to the station.”

 The paramedics lifted the stretcher, bag and all, and Robbie wailed. The officer grimaced and her coworker helped usher Robbie towards the car. His feet didn’t seem to work, and he fell when they tried to lead him away. The strawberry officer managed to get her arms around Robbie before he hit the pavement, but she struggled to keep him upright.

 Robbie’s vision was beginning to whiten, and his heart had either stopped- no not like Glanni not like Glanni because he’s fine and he’s coming home in a few hours when they check him out- or was beating so fast he couldn’t hear anything but a hum in his ears. He was vaguely aware of being ushered away from his apartment and he was a little confused. Where were they taking him? Where was Glanni? Why were there so many people awake at 6 in the morning? His vision was fading along with his coherent thoughts. The last thing in his mind before he fainted onto the strawberry officer was “I hope they call Glanni and tell him I’m sick,”.

 -

[bokukkokhmer]

I wrote yaoi

The cuffs were starting to bother Loki a little bit, he shifted his weight as he felt Magnus' weight being placed on the bed, "Already wet I see" Magnus said, his voice filled with lust as he slid his finger over Loki's dripping cunt earning a moan from the ex-god, "What dirty little whore you are" Magnus cooed smacking his ass, causing a him to utter out a small yelp followed by a moan. Magnus gripped his sides roughly "Are you going to beg and cry for it or do I have to make you" Magnus growled causing shivers to run down Loki's spine, "Pl-Please p-put it in. Penetrate me sir, I've been good" Loki begged grinding his ass against Magnus' bulge, the son of Frey lifted Loki's plaid burgundy skirt to expose a black G-string, "Hm, I think you should work some more for it" Magnus said yanking on Loki's hair, earning another needy moan, Magnus pulled Loki so his face was right in front of his hard-on "I think you know the drill" Loki slowly pulled his boxers down, with his cuffed hands, letting his length free, Loki licked the demigod's precum before the whole 13 inches was forcefully shoved into his mouth, hitting his gag reflex, Loki didn't have time to react before he was forced to move to Magnus' thrusting, remembering to mind his teeth after what happened last time. Loki tried his best to breathe but he was having trouble with Magnus' fast and forceful thrusting, tears were actually welling up in his eyes, until he felt the son of Frey's hot bitter and salty seed fill up his mouth, without warning. Magnus pulled his length out, his hot milky seed overflowed from Loki's mouth and spilled onto his cute white blouse and burgundy blazer. "Look at the mess you made" Magnus chided as if talking to a five year old, "Make sure you clean up afterwards" Loki nodded as he was stripped of his school uniform, except for the g-string and pushed back onto the bed, Magnus smirked as he leaned down to lick at his wet pussy, Loki moaned as Magnus skillfully used his tongue to tease his clit, "Pl-ea-se don't tea-tease m-me like th-tha-that" Loki begged his speech was slurring into nonsensical babbling, Magnus continued with his relentless teasing foreplay until stopping right when he knew Loki would be at his breaking point, "You taste so sweet" Magnus purred as he began to position himself. "Ready for your reward?" Loki nodded like a child getting candy, Magnus pulled the g-string to the side and rubbed his tip at Loki's entrance before pushing it in all the way, Loki moaned again before bucking his hips, Magnus began thrusting quickly, causing both males to let out breathy moans, "How the hell is a whore like you, have a pussy that's this damn tight" Magnus said, each word coming out in between each thrust, Loki only answered with lust-filled panting, Magnus reached for his lover's chest and roughly pinched his nipple, earning a helpless yelp, encouraging Magnus to thrust even harder causing the bed to make loud creaking sounds as if threatening to break, which it did, the wooden frame of the bed shattered causing the mattress to hit the floor, but that didn't stop Magnus' thrusting, no, it only encouraged him even further, "M-Ma-Mag-nus, ple-pl-ea-ease fill me up wi-ith your cum! Fi-il-ll me un-ti-il I-I-I overflow! G-gi-ive m-m-e-e your baby!" Loki begged again, Magnus smirked before throwing Loki's leg over his shoulder, "As you wish" Magnus said as he continued to thrust, continuously hitting Loki's G-spot and causing Loki to see stars. Magnus continued thrusting as he felt himself getting closer to cumming, "Fuck, I'm close" he groaned, "M-me too" Loki said Magnus gave one good final thrust before filling Loki to the brim with cum, Loki mewled as he rode out his orgasm, Magnus pulled out and admired his seed spilling out from Loki's folds, just for a moment. The teen laid down next to his lover, "I love you" he whispered pulling him close into spooning position, Loki let out a tired sigh, "Love you too" he replied as Magnus unlocked the cuff, Loki rubbed the red marks around his wrist, before falling asleep with his lover. A few weeks passed and Magnus was cleaning his room, when Loki appeared suddenly, causing Magnus to fall off the chair he was using to reach the high shelf, Loki helped him up, "What are you doing here?" Magnus asked Loki didn't say anything, he only lifted his Red Sox jersey up to show off a bump, he gently grabbed Magnus' hand and placed it on the bump, Magnus' eyes widen like saucers, before he chuckled, "You're pregnant?" Magnus asked, "We're pregnant" Loki corrected, "Our cute baby" Loki whispered, Magnus smiled, "Yeah, our cute baby"