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[oceaneyesinla]

Helping Hand

I am convinced Sanemi would be the best partner and he would look after you so well, especially if you were struggling. Which is what inspired this fic

This is the first x reader fic I've ever written, so CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome (please don't be mean to me I'll cry)

Also on AO3

Hope you enjoy!

divider by @cafekitsune

Whether you wanted to scream, cry, or burrow so far into the earth you hit magma, you weren't sure. What you were sure of was that if something didn't give soon, you were going to explode. The labours of everyday life were creeping up on you, and their weight was threatening to crush you.

Of no help was the separate pressure of your job, one you loved but one which was beginning to suck away at your spirit. You went into every shift dreading the day, and you left every shift feeling a mix of frustration and hopelessness, desperately pushing against problems you had no hope of solving.

Arriving home, you slowly fumbled with your keys, unlocking the door and taking a second before stepping over the threshold. You knew what awaited you - dirty dishes in the sink, laundry piling up in the bathroom and the boxes of your last online purchase still sitting on the bedroom floor, taunting you every time you passed them without breaking them down. You would have, if you had the energy and the motivation, but both escaped you more often than not.

A little clatter caught your attention and you were on high alert until you noticed the pair of shoes tucked beside your own in the hallway, far too big for your feet. You knew those shoes; you were with your boyfriend when he bought them.

You weren't expecting Sanemi that night, but you wouldn't complain at seeing him. All you wanted was to fall into a shower then your bed, and it would be infinitely better if his arms were wrapped around you once you had.

You stepped through into the living room and stopped dead, blinking. There, in a neat pile next to the couch, was the flattened remains of your cardboard boxes. Your little recycling box was right next to it, full of all the things you had been meaning to sort but hadn't had the chance.

A strange feeling settled in your chest as you ventured further into the apartment, following the sounds of your boyfriend moving around. Tears welled in your eyes as you hovered in the doorway to the kitchen.

Sanemi had donned yellow Marigolds, the thick muscle of his forearms almost bursting out of the rubber as he scrubbed away at the counter top. On the drying rack next to the sink, all the dishes you had let linger were washed up, and you even spotted the bowl and glass you hadn't bothered to move from where you left them by your computer. At the time, it felt easier to leave them there and then you just kept forgetting to bring them through to the kitchen.

You could hear the washing machine churning away, and you just knew that if you went into the bathroom, it would be neat and tidy again, just like the living room and the kitchen.

You couldn't help the sob that escaped you, a mix of pure relief and extreme shame forcing the emotion out of you. You were an adult, one with no dependents, no responsibility other than going to work. You were supposed to be able to do this for yourself. Part of you knew, though, that you were overwhelmed, and you had been stuck in this cycle of desperately needing help but being too ashamed to ask for it for too long.

Worried eyes met your own, and it was almost comical how Sanemi struggled with his rubber gloves, all but ripping them off so he could close the distance between you and tug you into his warm embrace.

“Hey, what's going on, Y/N? What's with the waterworks, huh?”

Through your sobbing, the only thing you could choke out was, “You w-washed the dishes.”

You weren't sure if he would understand all the meanings hidden behind those simple words, but the way he softened, stroking at your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head suggested he did.

“Yeah, I washed the dishes, baby.” He kept up the comforting motion, one hand cradling your head against his chest and the other sliding up and down your back. The only sounds in the room were your quiet sobs and the gentle shushes Sanemi was releasing.

Slowly, you calmed down, relaxing into his arms and letting the steady beat of his heart fill your ears. You pressed a soft kiss to his pec, right over his heart before you pulled out of his hold, rubbing at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

A warm hand cupped your face, and a rough thumb gently wiped a couple of tears from the apple of your cheek. You looked up to meet Sanemi’s eye and found him already staring down at you. Heat pooled in your cheeks at the steady attention and he smiled in response, patting your cheek.

“Go and shower, baby. I'll get some food ready for when you're done.”

You tried to protest; he had already done more than enough, but he just brushed off your fretting, turning you around and giving you the gentlest of pushes, “Don't make me carry you in there.” You looked over your shoulder at him, and he was still wearing that fond smile.

Another couple of tears slipped down your cheeks, but instead of sadness, your overwhelming emotion was love. Your own lips turned up into a smile, your first genuine one of the day, “Thank you, Sanemi.”

***********

You felt a million times better after your shower, and when you stepped out from under the spray, you realised Sanemi had already set out clothes for you to put on - your favourite sleep shorts, and one of his t-shirts. You smiled as you slipped the t-shirt over your head; you could faintly smell his laundry detergent.

Sanemi looked up as you padded into the living room, towel around your shoulders like a cape. Two plates were on the table in front of him, and of course your angel of a boyfriend had cooked your favourite. You sat down with a smile, tummy rumbling - you hadn’t had chance to eat at work, the shift too busy for you to step away for even a moment.

Sanemi watched you take the first few bites before starting his own, seemingly satisfied that you were taken care of. After a minute of silent enjoyment, he posed a question, eyes watching you for a reaction, “Wanna talk about it?”

Immediately, you were shaking your head. You wanted to do anything but think about everything bogging you down, at least for now. For the first time in weeks, you felt truly relaxed, soothed by your sweet boyfriend and his endless care for you. You knew you would need to talk about it eventually but right now, you just wanted him and a little bit of normality.

“Alright then. Hey, did I tell you about Sumi’s gymnastics competition?” You had to smile as Sanemi updated you on everything going on in his sibling’s lives. He was such a good big brother; always so invested in them and their hobbies, making sure they had everything they could want and more.

When you were both finished with your food, you tried to collect up the plates, but your hand was batted away before you could even get close. Sanemi did the job instead, leaning over to kiss your head as he passed you, heading into the kitchen. Following him, you squeaked in shock as he lifted you up, sitting you on the counter with a smirk, “Sit pretty and keep me company, yeah? How’s Kanae?”

You were well aware he didn’t need you to tell him that - she was a teacher at the same school as him, and they were good friends before you even met him. In fact, it was her who introduced you. The gesture was appreciated, though. He was giving you something easy to talk about, something light and happy. 

It worked, too. You told him all about your recent shopping trip, and the meal you went out for and he listened to it all with a smile on his face. So invested in your story, you barely noticed him finish washing up and so you jumped when his hands landed on your thighs, his torso slotting between your legs. His palms were warm as they slowly travelled over your skin, relaxing you further with every pass.

“Ready for a movie in bed? Your pick.”

You suggested your favourite movie, grinning when he nodded. He lifted you up, patting your thigh as a prompt to wrap your legs around him. You loved when he did this; carrying you around with strong arms, holding you close. He deposited you on the bed before heading to the bathroom, leaving you alone. As your eyes scanned the room, you felt like crying all over again - the sheets under your body were fresh (and your favourite) and he had even dusted your shelves and the trinkets you kept there. All of his work must have taken hours, and he had done it all without you saying a word. You always thought there was no way you could love him more, and he always managed to prove you wrong.

You settled yourself under the covers, snuggling into the fresh smelling duvet with a satisfied smile. It didn’t take Sanemi long to return and you let your eyes wander over his exposed muscles. He was so beautiful, and he had a heart to match.

He set up the movie and put the remote on the bedside table before sliding under the covers next to you. He pulled you closer, arms wrapped around you as he manoeuvred you into a comfortable position. When he was done, you were practically on top of him, head over his heart and his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. A yawn escaped you as you breathed in the scent of his body wash and he let out a little laugh.

Yeah, you were tired, but you needed to know, “Why did you come over today? Not that I mind, but …” In all honesty, you had been trying to hide just how much you were struggling. Sanemi already had enough on his plate between his teaching job and his responsibility to his family. You didn’t want to be one more burden.

“I could tell something wasn’t right. You haven’t been as bright lately. Plus, you always end up humming when you’re concentrating, and you haven’t done that in weeks.”

He really paid that much attention? The humming was an old habit, and even you only noticed its absence after it made a reappearance. 

“Sanemi …” You didn’t know what to say. Were there even words for how you felt right now? 

His hand never stopped its steady stroke along your spine, even as his arms tightened around you a little, “You don’t need to say anything, Y/N. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.” You felt a little chuckle rumble through his chest, “Now go to sleep - I can see your eyes drooping.”

He was right - between his soothing touch and his warm hold, you were quickly being lulled into sleep. You snuggled further into his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart as you mumbled, “Love you too.”

The last thing you heard before sleep overtook you was a quiet, “Sleep well, baby.”

[queers-of-marybelltownship]

well he collapsed with stevens-johnson syndrome on the er floor panic attacked anaphylactic and ataxic and the way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges roman candles at both ends in his synapsis and the method with which he recycled his humours trojan horsed his blood brain barrier and raised the ld-50 yes yes and through fight or flight revelation shame the blackbox warrior he skipped this town and headed straight down history shields himself from reason in a kevlar baby blue tuxedo quilted from the finest fibers flesh and fiberglass and flowers ego a mosquito evil incarnate good incognito pops placebos for libido screaming bless the torpedoes for what for what for what its worth if it was gonna kill you boy it would have by now for what for what for what its worth theres no more looking back its looking up or looking down well he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose around his lotus jugular when they came and they found him with a map to every victim of his love and a tattoo of a blue jay on his face and they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry a hymn out in hungarian harmonic and he cocked his noggin through his stoma sang for aul lang syn happy birthday to the succulents ill die your hydroponics his ribcage was a hornets nest palpitations set the beat his vagus nerve a turks head knot an axel hitch a carrick bend he wondered if christ consciousness would charge a cancellation fee auf whiedersehn au revoir he gripped his wits right by their ends for what for what its worth if it was gonna kill you boy it would have by now for what for what for what its worth theres no more looking back its looking up or looking down hello welcome why dont you take a seat get comfortable relax take a second if you need to now what's bothering you well why dont we start at the beginning growing up how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your blooming escher/mandelbrot head and how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs did you get along well with the gideon bugler pineal glands your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your strd strands tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under bacchus bloody nose did namibian himbas tie-dye you your ears pierced with a phineas gage flagpole did you die before your day thursday traction tuesday titration my hope is to assess through my objective report of your subjective conjecture whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this transorbital ice pick holistic ballistics you got a better idea its about the best we could come up with what you think ideas spread because theyre good no they spread because people like them so now here we are once again holding as it were a mirror up to your mirror i guess its just something people do a bloody knife to split your infrastructure wine to rev your motor function coital machinations of the dead well you mainline your animus karate chop your abacus and learn to be an animal instead but I never did think you better than this your modus operandi causes nazi/skoptzyism and suicide why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem not the things you do but something sick inside lithium and dialectics boy you really is defective cbt dont seem effective for that cluster b accept it offer up your innocence please ignore the side effects youve lost your mind and almost lost your life before so youll be fine for what for what its worth if it was gonna kill you boy it would have by now for what for what for what its worth theres no more looking back so try to look forward now for what for what its worth if it was gonna kill you boy it would have by now for what for what for what its worth theres no more looking back its looking up or looking down

good morning :))

[lifeintheworldtocome]

WELL HE COLLAPSED WITH STEVENS-JOHNSON SYNDROME ON THE ER FLOOR PANIC ATTACKED ANAPHYLACTIC AND ATAXIC WELL THE WAY HE SPUN HIS BUTTERFLY RISKED ALL SIX HIS PHALANGES ROMAN CANDLES AT BOTH ENDS AT HIS SYNAPSIS AND THE MATTER WITH WHICH HE RECYCLED HIS HUMORS TROJAN HORSED HIS BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER AND RAISED THE LD-50 YES YES AND THROUGH FIGHT OR FLIGHT REVELATIONS SHAME THE BLACKBOXWARRIOR HE SKIPPED THIS TOWN AND HEADED STRAIGHT DOWN HISTORY SHIELDS HIMSELF FROM REASON IN A KEVLAR BABY-BLUE TUXEDO QUILTED FROM THE FINEST FIBERS FLESH AND FIBERGLASS AND FLOWERS HIS EGO A MOSQUITO EVIL INCARNATE GOOD INCOGNITO POPS PLACEBOS FOR LIBIDOS SCREAMING BLESS THE TORPEDOS FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH IF IT WAS GONNA KILL YOU BOY IT WOULD HAVE BY NOW FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH THERES NO MORE LOOKING BACK ITS LOOKING UP OR LOOKING DOWN WELL HE WAS WEARING STOLEN RUBBER SHOES AND WRAPPED A POISON IVY NOOSE AROUND HIS LOTUS JUGULAR WHEN THEY CAME WELL THEY FOUND HIM WITH A MAP TO EVERY VICTIM OF HIS LOVE AND A TATTOO OF A BLUE JAY ON HIS FACE AND THEY WAITED FOR HIS VITAL SIGNS TO LIE AND LET A FLATLINE CRY A HYMN OUT IN HUNGARIAN HARMONIC BUT HE COCKED HIS NOGGIN THROUGH HIS STOMA SANG FOR AULD LANG SYNE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SUCCULENTS ILL DYE YOUR HYDROPONICS HIS RIBCAGE WAS A HORNETS NEST PALPITATIONS SET THE BEAT HIS VAGUS NERVES A TURKS HEAD KNOT AN AXEL HITCH A CARRICK BEND HE WONDERED IF CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS WOULD CHARGE A CANCELLATION FEE AUF WIEDERSEHEN AU REVOIR HE GRIPPED HIS WITS RIGHT BY THEIR ENDS FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH IF IT WAS GONNA KILL YOU BOY IT WOULD HAVE BY NOW FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH THERES NO MORE LOOKING UP ITS LOOKING UP OR LOOKING DOWN hello welcome why dont you take a seat get comfortable relax take a second if you need to now whats bothering you well why dont we start at the beginning growing up how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your blooming escher/mandelbrot head? and how about claustrophillic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs did you get along well with the gideon bugler pineal glands your projector eyes casting scifis on your strd strands? tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under bacchuses bloody nose did namibian himbas tiedye you your ears pierced with a phineas gage flagpole? did you die before your day? well thursday traction tuesday titration now my hope is to assess through my objective report of your subjective conjecture whether this proprietary blend of expertise and seasoning works as well as this transorbital ice pick holistic ballistics what you got a better idea? well its about the best we could come up with what you think ideas spread because theyre good? no they spread because people like them so now here we are once again holding as it were a mirror up to your mirror i guess its just something people do A BLOODY KNIFE TO SPLIT YOUR INFRASTRUCTURE WINE TO REV YOUR MOTOR FUNCTIONS COITAL MACHINATIONS OF THE DEAD WELL YOU MAINLINE YOUR ANIMUS KARATE CHOP YOUR ABACUS AND LEARN TO BE AN ANIMAL INSTEAD BUT I NEVER DID THINK YOU BETTER THAN THIS YOUR MODUS OPERANDI CAUSES NAZI/SKOPTZYISM AND SUICIDE WHY TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE WHEN IT IS YOU WHO ART THE PROBLEM NOT THE THINGS YOU DO BUT SOMETHING SICK INSIDE LITHIUM AND DIALECTICS BOY YOU REALLY IS DEFECTIVE CBT DONT SEEM EFFECTIVE FOR THE CLUSTER B ACCEPT IT OFFER UP YOUR INNOCENCE PLEASE IGNORE THE SIDE EFFECTS YOUVE LOST YOUR MIND AND ALMOST LOST YOUR LIFE BEFORE SO YOULL BE FINE FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH IF IT WAS GONNA GET YOU BOY IT WOULD HAVE BY NOW FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT? FOR WHAT ITS WORTH THERES NO MORE LOOKING BACK AND WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO LOOK BACK I MEAN ITS NO GOOD LOOKING BACK SO TRY TO LOOK FORWARD NOW FOR WHAT FOR WHAT FOR WHAT ITS WORTH IF IT WAS GONNA KILL YOU BOY IT WOULD HAVE BY NOW FOR WHAT FOR WHAT FOR WHAT ITS WORTH THERES NO MORE LOOKING BACK ITS LOOKING UP OR LOOKING DOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWNNNNNNNNNNNN

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B2R4: The Corruption

BlackBoxWarrior:

“A song about a man struggling with his health (be it mental or physical). The song makes the treatment seem inhumane and just as terrifying as the initial problem. It’s almost like he’s getting sicker and sicker but just won’t die.”

Thermodynamic Lawyer:

““Disease is her primary language” - every line of this is filled with rot and disease and bugs and it’s 100% corruption.”

Lyrics below the line!

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA:

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands? Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down…

Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D:

(I hold myself in contempt) Tearing the hair off a black baboon's skull Here's a bitch with some four-thousand names Vomiting lies through her theremin throat As some businessmen pick at her brains Pulls back skinny lips to reveal a proboscis Seems Seth Brindle's at it again Tears pages from spines as she judges the cover And shamelessly spoils the end Blood vessels drying and curling inside are Unfurling from out of her wrists Well, she wrings out a snake and collects all its poison Intending to learn it to hiss Foams at the mouth with a head full of acid And giving some poor illness the blame Knocking the pieces the fuck off the chessboard Insisting that she's won the game So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart She could not break my heart, oh lord Makes up excuses for throbbing black bruises And uses them to her advantage Never came down from her last trip, oh Jesus Disease is her primary language Garbled and gruesome, her words so absurd Like a herd of transmissions from Apollo 13 No apology, I request misery So no rest 'til I've twisted her chest round my knee So squeal like a trolley wheel, cry like a baby With autism strapped to a ceiling fan Soil your visage with mucus and twisting of features unable to stand Buckle your knees looking up at me And beg me to spare thee the back of my hand For the sake of humanity, die of your blight We're blessed, you're barren as Mojave sands So all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear she could not break my heart, whoa Now all that I see absolute entropy As the chemical bonds fall apart Well, it seems she broke me But I swear, she can go fucking die (kill yourself) You can go fucking die (kill yourself) Go fucking die (kill yourself) Kill yourself and go die

[edupunkn00b]

House Call

Photo by Insung Yoon via Unsplash

Rated: T - WC: 1553 - CW: swearing, medication, vomiting and nausea, terminal illness

Wilson's been away and House goes to investigate.

(For my Sanders Sides friends, there are some familiar archetypes in this material. You might find it worth the read.) -

Thunk-thunk-thwack. Thunk-thunk-thwack. House had swiped this squash ball from Wilson a year, maybe a year and a half ago by now. It had been so long since Jimminy Cricket had been to his office, he still hadn't noticed his theft. Bouncing the ball against against the floor, then the wall, House tilted his chair further. The steady thwacking and the faint creak of his chair nearly drowned out the sound of the latest batch of interns’ greetings. Maybe farewells. He looked out the window and watched the parking lot lights click on. Farewells, then.

Desiccated leaves had collected in Wilson’s parking spot, the cement tire stop now edged in enough moss he could see it from three floors up. Were the maintenance guys even bothering anymore? House stared as a fresh eddy of fall's detritus danced over the vacant spot, one last thwack of rubber against his palm deciding for him.

He put down the ball and picked up the small amber bottle on his desk, then pushed up from his chair.

He had a house call to make.

It took an embarrassingly short time to pick Wilson’s lock. As soon as he opened the door, he was struck with the scent of sickness. Not just the sour-sweet odor of vomit, but plastic and rubbing alcohol, stuffy air and sweat. Pain.

“Working from home, my ass,” he muttered, kicking aside a blue recycling bin overflowing with empty electrolyte bottles. He closed the door with his elbow and the hall was plunged into darkness. After a moment, House’s eyes adjusted, a blueish glow spilling in from the kitchen and a dim splash of yellow from the opposite hall.

He followed the light and was greeted by the unmistakable sound of retching.

“Really tied one on last night, I see,” he said before he stepped into the bathroom. Dressed in a faded Princeton Rowing Crew hoodie and flannel pants, Wilson curled over the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl. “You know you need protein more than electrolytes for a hangov—”

Wilson straightened and looked back at him, eyes bloodshot under a thick woolen beanie. He was jaundiced, skin stretched over the sharp, too, too sharp bones of his face. The flesh around his lymph nodes was red and puffy.

His eyebrows had fallen out.

In the corner next to the trash bin was a small red sharps collector and red plastic bag half-filled with drained IV bags in various sizes. Oh.

“So the cancer doctor gets cancer,” House muttered, eyes narrowed and grip tight on his cane. “‘Medice, cura te ipsum,” he said with a little flurried jazz hand. [Physician, heal thyself.]

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Wilson snapped—no, panted— back at him before falling silent again. House could count the veins in his eyelids, the shadows underneath a dark bruised purple. Cheeks sunken beneath his high cheekbones, his lips trembled, chapped, thin, and pale. He didn’t need a meter to tell him Wilson was hypoxic, most likely from his vomiting and whatever damned cocktail he’d dosed himself with.

Wilson's eyes cracked open and House caught a glimpse of shiny brown before he turned away from him and addressed the collection of bottles laid out on the counter. “Opening up a pharmacy?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to get a side gig.” If it weren’t for Wilson sounding so fucking broken, they could’ve been bickering in his office about Cuddy’s latest HR memo. “Metastatic cancer treatment’s expensive.”

“You’d get a better margin turning tricks. Though you’d have to keep from puking on your johns.” House scowled down at the empty glass vial in his hand before tossing it in the sink. He picked up a large amber bottle and turned to glare at Wilson. “You’re combining talquetamab and nilutamide?”

He barely shrugged.

House stared. Wilson’s eyes had fallen closed again, head lolling against the side of the shower. He looked so…

“Get up.” House snapped and hobbled across the room. He leaned hard on his cane, the tip wedged into the corner of the tub and the wall. Keeping his weight on his good, well, his better leg, he reached for Wilson’s upper arm.

Wilson’s eyes shot open, darting and wild, softening only once he focused on House’s face. He’d fallen asleep. Or, given the mix of chemicals he was marinating in, more likely lost consciousness. “Still me,” House muttered and grabbed his arm. His whole hand wrapped around Wilson’s bicep. “You should be in bed.”

Eyes closing, he shook his head and fumbled blindly at the tank before his arm dropped back in his lap. The meaning was clear. 

“Nope.” House didn’t let go of his arm. “I’ll bring you a bucket. Now come on, Dr. Wilson—” The catch in his throat was nothing more than the jolt of pain that shot through his hip as he helped him to his feet. Wilson had always been trim, annoyingly light on his feet. Now, though? Now he was like a bird, hollow-boned and just as fragile.

Wilson’s bedroom didn’t have much furniture. A bed and a nightstand. A tiny desk littered with marked up and flagged medical journals and thick, ominous envelopes from the hospital staff’s insurance company. There was an IV stand next to the bed and a cooler emblazoned with Property of Princeton-Plainsboro in big, red letters. The bedding was twisted, the comforter half-draped over the floor. Between the late hour and the pajamas, House guessed Wilson had been hoping to sleep off the meds. When did that ever work?

House waited to speak again until he’d gotten Wilson settled under his covers, a plastic-lined pail next to his bed, and a fresh bag of saline drip, drip, dripping its way into his arm. “You mind?” he said after sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. Besides the desk chair across the room, there was some fluffy Edwardian number that looked like he’d managed to free from the grip of his ex-wife’s claws. It also looked like it weighed more than Wilson did and House wasn’t delusional enough to try to drag it over just for the sake of propriety.

Wilson didn’t answer, but he let his hand rest in the space between them. House drummed his fingers against his cane grip before blurting out, “How long?”

Deep chocolate eyes searched his. He’d broken capillaries in his sclera, maybe even a little opportunistic conjunctivitis for flavor. Wilson tried to hold his gaze. “‘Til I’m dead?”

“I don’t need an oncologist to tell me that.” House cleared his throat and refocused. It was easier to watch the pulsepoint between his eyebrows. “How long were you planning on keeping this a secret? It’s been, what…” He lifted Wilson’s hand, forefinger and thumb meeting around his bony wrist. “Eighteen months?” Wilson looked away, a huff of laughter turning into a rattling cough. 

House waited until he'd stopped and wiped his mouth with the cloth on the nightstand. But he didn’t let up. “Your last annual was six months ago and you’re too far along for that to have been when you caught this.”

“Twenty-three,” Wilson muttered, head heavy on the pillow. “Found a mass in the shower.”

“Two years?” He stabbed his cane against the floor. “Two years!?” Wilson still wouldn’t look at him. Two fucking years. That was… that just after Amber and… “God dammit, Wilson, you idiot! You’ve been hiding this from me for two years? Who else knows?” Who was keeping this from him? Who was helping Wilson hide his sickness?

Wilson didn’t speak.

Anger came easy. “Who. Else. Knows?” House’s voice was low and dangerous and Wilson’s continued silence confirmed it. “Oh…” He looked away, slowly nodding. “Everyone.” His… friend had told everyone he was dying but him.

“No-one,” Wilson whispered, fingers grazing the edge of House’s sleeve. “If I couldn’t tell you…” House watched Wilson’s hand as it fell against his own, words not making any sense. “There was no-one to tell.”

“Bullshit. If you’re not going to be straight with me—” House pushed on his cane but he couldn’t make himself stand. 

Wilson’s fingers curled against his hand. “Why would I lie now, House?”

“Everyone lies,” He spat back but he didn’t move away. Wilson’s hand was so damn cold. “You’re telling me you didn’t tell Cuddy?”

He sighed, breathe wet and rattling in his lungs. “Would I be here with stolen meds if she knew?” 

“You moron!" He pounded the floor with his cane, punctuating each word. "Why didn’t you…” House's throat seized, choking out the rest of his question. Why didn’t you tell me?

Wordless, Wilson turned his head and closed his eyes. House didn’t need him to actually say it, did he? The rest of his words sat in the air between them, each of them quiet enough he kept time off some clock ticking out in the living room. Wilson was still enough that House thought he might have fallen asleep. He was considering moving over to the chair when Wilson’s eyes cracked open and he turned his hand next to House’s, palm up. An invitation. A request.

“You know now,” Wilson whispered.

The rubbing alcohol he’d used to prepare Wilson’s IV hung in the air, stinging his eyes and drawing out hot, heavy tears. He nodded and took Wilson’s hand. “I know now.”

[fading-heart-dummy]

well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the ER floor!!

panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxis

well the way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges

Roman candles at both ends in his synapses!!

And the method with which he recycled his humors

Trojan horse'd his blood-brain barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes

And through his fight or flight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior, he skipped this town and headed straight down history!

Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo

Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers

His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito

Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth

If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now

For what? For what? For what it's worth

There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose

Around his Lotus jugular when they came

Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love

And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face

And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry

A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic

But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne"

"Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics"

His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat

His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend

He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee

Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth

If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now

For what? For what? For what it's worth

There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat?

Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to

Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning

Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?

Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your

Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head?

And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs

Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands?

Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands?

Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose

Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole

Did you die before your day?

Thursday traction, Tuesday titration

My hope is to assess through my objective report of

Your subjective conjecture

Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this

Transorbital ice pick

Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea?

It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good?

No, they spread because people like them

So now here we are once again, holding

As it were, a mirror up to your mirror

I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function

Coital machinations of the dead

Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus

And learn to be an animal instead

But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes

Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide

Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem

Not the things you do but something sick inside

Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective

CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it

Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects

You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before

So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth

If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now

For what? For what? For what it's worth

There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back?

I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now

For what? For what? For what it's worth

If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now

For what? For what? For what it's worth

There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down !!!

(I'm so sorry)

I have been looking at this to see what the reference is but I'm not cultured enough to see what-

[friendball-irl]

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic

But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands?

Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick

Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside

Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down...

Yet another song I don't know 😔

[usrubberrecycling]

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[twisted-bee]

im going to bite you

OK WELL HERES THE LYRICS TO BLACKBOX WARRIOR - OKULTRA BY WILL WOOD FROM THE NORMAL ALBUM

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic

But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat

His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands?

Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick

Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside

Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down...

[nvzblgrrl]

21, 26

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

I actually do collab with a friend of mine quite regularly on fic, for both stuff that's majority mine and stuff that's majority hers - we haven't done a project that's 50/50 yet thanks differing interests + schedule loads, but we do have the idea for one simmering in the background. It's quite enjoyable but I think the ground-floor requirement is to either be on similar wavelengths on the subject or have a capacity to talk out disagreements properly and find a solution that works for both parties - unfortunately, I don't know if that's possible for anyone that I don't have a multi-year friendship with yet, lmao.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

God. That's actually hard, because there's actual competition for that title, but... probably the Big Fat One Piece Fic Project. It's a huge monster of recycling old projects that were messy in their own right, saw some really stupid arguments (mostly initiated by me because I was stressed from other stuff and having a meltdown over cravats was apparently a 'safe' release) with my collab friend (who's not a One Piece fan, but was willing to rubber duck me + took some interest in some characters, which helped flesh them out much better than they'd been on their own), and has generally been a journey of just... learning how to handle multiple Self-Insert characters that were born from very fucked times in my life with a delicacy and grace that I don't often afford myself in a direct sense. Also the project got the attention of a fandom 'enemy' (guy I told to behave in a One Piece thread on another site) that saw the one currently uploaded portion blasted with hate comments from him for almost two years straight and on two different sites - and he was also stalking my tumblr (because the moment I posted now privated receipts that made it clear it was him doing it, he started crying about it). That didn't help with smoothing the process.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 7

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Finished all of the little things I carved out of avocado pits, will maybe post pictures at some point? I painted some sections (like for the eye I carved, I made part of it white for contrast, etc.) and then generally glazed them with some shiny paint stuff. Now I really wish I had more avocado pits, I was unsure at first, but I have some new ideas.. I want to try inlaying stones like I've seen in some pictures, similar to the same ones I use for eyes in my sculptures. >:3 (random google image example of the stones inside, like this sort of thing V)

Low effort/small house cleaning tasks, did a few dishes, put up laundry, organized things, put up the recycling, paid bills, etc.

Still extremely sleepy and unfocused, it was hot last night and the cats woke me up multiple times so I only got a few hours of sleep and barely had any energy to do anything and also had a headache and back pain a lot of the day. ToT

Finally made an appointment I was supposed to make like 4 days ago lol..

Gave wet food to the cats (this is an ordeal because George eats way faster than Noodle, so I have to separate them and stand guard so George doesn't vacuum his up immediately then run over and try to eat all of his brothers food.. evil boy must be watched to prevent his crimes )

Edited videos for like.. 15 minutes but still have not been very productive on that front (or editing costume photos or anything) due to shoulder pain and stuff making it hard to type/use mouse much on the computer. grrbbb >:V

Spent 10 minutes looking up a weird pendant I had in my rock collection area and found out it's an old piece of costume jewelry from the 60s(?) and could be worth like $200 potentially, which is cool. I'm not sure if I'll sell it though because I do think it's quite unique and good for a prop when making wizard character inventories, etc, and I'd never be able to find anything like it again (it's this one below.. it's very weird.. looks like something a mage would have lol)

Translated the tapestry text for 5 minutes, and got out some tubs of clothes to start organizing them to sell outfits and stuff online, but then felt ill and had to go lay down so now the tubs are just sitting out on the floor ghgh..

Notable sights: It rained a bit and the sky was very pretty at one point. Didn't get to go outside today due to schedule/low energy, so no clovers or anything. Saw a fat squirrel out the window once though. Also when I was looking through my "rock collection" (which also includes marbles, dice, pieces of glass, stones, gems, rubber balls, seashells, smooth wood, jewelry scraps, etc. ggh.. really more "shiny things collection" but it's mostly rocks, so) for interesting stones to possibly put into avocado pits in the future, I saw a lot of pretty rocks I hadn't thought about in a while, so that was nice.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Nothing really.. but it's an asparagus day tomorrow I think so.. >:)c hehehehe... Oh, I did try a bite of corn, which I really really love corn but am not supposed to have it on my diet. The miniscule morsel was sufficiently cherished. Still craving hearty stuff despite resuming my iron supplements lol..

[lalucoo]

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic

But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands?

Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick

Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside

Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down...

[tma-entity-song-poll]

Battle of the Fear Bands B2R3: The Corruption

Entomologists:

BlackBoxWarrior:

“A song about a man struggling with his health (be it mental or physical). The song makes the treatment seem inhumane and just as terrifying as the initial problem. It’s almost like he’s getting sicker and sicker but just won’t die.”

Lyrics below the line!

Entomologists:

I hear, humming Buzzing, buzzing Today marks one long dream Burrowed deep inside Sallowing faces Leaving me behind They talk about me, see? I can hear them They call their friends Entomologists Knock on wood, but I'd rather stay alone And isolate intuition from unknown You've bent my world, now, I'll never figure out What it means, when I see, infestations in my dreams Today marks two long dreams Festering away Sallowing bodies Crawling on all fours They talk about me They get in real close They call themselves Metamorphosis Knock on wood, but I'd rather stay alone And isolate intuition from unknown You've bent my world, now, I'll never figure out What it means, when I see, infestations in my dreams

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA:

Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges Roman candles at both ends in his synapses And the method with which he recycled his humors Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne" "Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics" His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Hello, welcome, why don't you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to Now what's bothering you? Well, why don't we start at the beginning Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your Blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs Did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands? Your projector eyes casting sci-fi's on your STR'd strands? Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus' bloody nose Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole Did you die before your day? Thursday traction, Tuesday titration My hope is to assess through my objective report of Your subjective conjecture Whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this Transorbital ice pick Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It's about the best we could come up with, what, you think ideas spread because they're good? No, they spread because people like them So now here we are once again, holding As it were, a mirror up to your mirror I guess it's just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem Not the things you do but something sick inside Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective CBT don't seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, and why would you want to look back? I mean, it's no good looking back, so try to look forward now For what? For what? For what it's worth If they were going to get you boy, they would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down…

[cdjrubber]

Durable and Safe: The Importance of Horse Truck Matting

When transporting horses, their safety and comfort are top priorities. One critical but often overlooked factor is the flooring of the truck. Proper horse truck matting is essential for providing a safe, stable, and comfortable surface that protects both the horses and the vehicle. This article explores the importance of horse truck matting, its benefits, and the types of materials used to ensure the best experience for your animals.

Why Horse Truck Matting is Essential

Transporting horses can be stressful for both the animals and the owners. Horses are naturally sensitive creatures, and traveling in a moving truck can make them anxious or cause them to lose their balance. Slippery or uncomfortable flooring increases the risk of injury, which is why high-quality matting is necessary. Horse truck mats create a non-slip surface, reduce shock, and help keep the animals calm during transit.

The right matting not only ensures the safety of the horses but also extends the life of your truck or trailer by protecting it from damage. Without proper matting, the truck floor can quickly become worn out, scratched, or rusted due to the weight and movements of the animals. Investing in durable matting helps prevent expensive repairs and maintenance down the line.

Benefits of Using Horse Truck Matting

Non-Slip Surface One of the primary benefits of horse truck matting is its anti-slip properties. Horses can become agitated when they lose their footing, which can lead to falls or injuries. Non-slip mats provide traction, preventing the horses from slipping or sliding during transit. This not only keeps the horses safe but also helps them feel more secure, reducing stress.

Shock Absorption Traveling over rough terrain or bumpy roads can be jarring for horses, especially if the truck’s floor lacks proper cushioning. Horse truck mats made from rubber or other shock-absorbing materials help reduce the impact of bumps and vibrations, ensuring a smoother ride. This not only protects the horse’s legs and joints but also minimizes fatigue, making the journey more comfortable.

Easy Maintenance Horse truck mats are designed for easy cleaning and maintenance. Mats with drainage features prevent the buildup of moisture, reducing the risk of mold and bacteria that can affect both the horse’s health and the truck’s longevity. A quick hose-down after each trip keeps the mats clean and hygienic, saving time and effort for horse owners.

Durability and Longevity High-quality horse truck mats are built to withstand the wear and tear of regular use. Made from durable materials like rubber, they are resistant to heavy loads, hoof strikes, and various weather conditions. These mats are designed to last for years, providing consistent protection for both the horse and the vehicle.

Temperature Regulation Rubber mats are excellent for temperature control, offering insulation against extreme weather. They help regulate the temperature in the truck or trailer, ensuring the horses remain comfortable regardless of the season.

Types of Horse Truck Matting Materials

Rubber Mats Rubber mats are the most popular option due to their durability, non-slip surface, and shock-absorbing qualities. They provide excellent traction and comfort for horses, making them ideal for long journeys. Rubber mats are also easy to clean and maintain, offering long-lasting performance.

Foam Mats Foam mats are lighter and provide additional cushioning, but they may not be as durable as rubber mats. They are ideal for short trips or for use in conjunction with rubber mats for added comfort.

Recycled Mats Eco-friendly options like recycled rubber or plastic mats are gaining popularity. These mats offer the same durability and comfort while being a sustainable choice for environmentally conscious horse owners.