#wikiHow tutorial how to sleep

[only-man-in-the-sky]

my brain hurts but oh well

[jetsimpersonator]

wikihow how to sleep tutorial for beginners

[reverd-ck]

ch.3- an arrow through my heart

What was he thinking? What could have possibly possessed him to just blurt that out loud? 

Sure, he really needed to find an excuse to keep you from going on that date, but why, why, did he also have to confess his own feelings right then and there?

Realizing what he had said, Choso completely stopped talking. 

I don’t want you to go because I love you. Seriously? 

Choso looked at your face, unmoving and staring at him, eyes wide.

The silence stretched on. A bit too long for him. Too many extra seconds for him to regret every single word he just said.

He needed to get out. He should have never pushed himself into your business in the first place, never stuck his nose in somewhere it didn’t belong.

Look where he ended up now. 

“Choso?” You whisper, unsure if you are hearing things.

Did he just… confess?

Your mind was everywhere, still frustrated from Choso’s insistence a few seconds earlier, still thinking about the date that was quite possibly waiting for you already, and now being hit by Choso’s sudden confession. It felt like your brain was getting overloaded, then completely shut down.

He likes me? Since when?

Choso’s figure suddenly drops. He lets go of your wrist and withdraws into himself. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He starts heading for the door, desperate to get out of this situation.

“Forget about it, Y/n. I’m sorry for getting in your business.”

He opens the door, walking away, leaving you in your own bedroom, speechless.

You don’t even protest against him as you hear Choso taking Yuji out of your house.

What were you supposed to do now?

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You ended up rain checking your date, then promptly ghosting them. You needed more time to think about what Choso said to you and not what other romantic interests you had.

After he and Yuji left your house, you never got the courage to text him or call him, and neither did he. An empty chat log that none of you were used to. 

What were you even supposed to say after that?

Lie and say you liked him back?

Or dismiss his feelings but never have your best friend again?

There wasn’t a wikiHow tutorial on what to do right after your best friend admits he loves you. 

You were lying on your bed, thoughts too angsty to spare you sleep. 

Funny, right? 

Funny how you never noticed his feelings? 

Or was it funny when you only thought of him as just a friend when he clearly wanted you more than that?

Looking back on it now, you felt like you were pretty much stupid to not notice any signs that Choso liked you to that point.

Yes, you loved him back. But it was only as a friend. As someone who would never leave your side, no matter what.

Now that he’s gone, what do you do now?

An idea came to your head. If you texted him first, would he respond? 

But what would you even say? You didn’t want to talk to him before you even thought about everything thoroughly.

Plus, you were 80% sure that he would ghost you. Just like what he’s doing right now, completely and utterly avoiding you at all costs. 

You wanted him—but not like that. You needed him now—but not like that.

But he wanted you—like that. He needed you—like that.

Too many things to think about, leaving you with questions that left your brain searching for answers neither of you could answer. 

You pulled the covers tighter around yourself. 

You didn’t want to think anymore. You just wanted to sleep.

Any sleep is better than no sleep. Anything to take your mind off of whatever happened that day, even temporarily.

Any sleep is better than no sleep, you repeated as you grabbed your phone and opened TikTok. 

The algorithm will brainwash you tonight, killing any source of critical thinking. Just a placeholder for your thoughts. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Choso returned home. Helped Yuji out of his shoes. Made sure he washed his hands. He still wanted to finish the livestream, so Choso turned on the TV and left him in the living room. 

He tries his best to stay composed. He couldn’t beat himself up in front of his brother.

Choso plops down on his bed, staring at nothing but the ceiling. Just a few moments to think.

Anybody would be rattled after confessing their feelings to someone, right? There would be moments of silent excitement and despair, hoping that the receiver of their feelings would like them back. 

Choso knew you never thought of him that way. It’s selfish of him to even confess his feelings. 

He groans, covering his head in his hands. 

Did him even confessing his feelings work? Did you go on that date? 

Choso’s mind was running around in circles. Lying on his bed, doing nothing but just staring into the blue. 

He didn’t have the time to think too much. Not with taking care of his brother on one hand and a job on the other. He did not have the moment to think about a non-existent love life.

So he got up. Sat up from his bed and accepted the plain truth.

She will never see me the same way I see her. 

We will never get our friendship back.

And he exited his room.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

One week passed. 

And still not even a peep from Choso.

Not one call, not a text message, no voicemail, and you barely even see him in person anymore. He is actively avoiding you.

And quite frankly, you were getting sick of it.

You did not want to be ghosted by your best friend. Someone that stayed by your side since childhood. Someone that was always there for you. 

It still didn’t feel right navigating life without him. Without texting him, annoying him, and definitely without seeing him. 

And it wasn’t like you never tried. A text, here and there. Maybe a call if you’re feeling brave. 

But no response. He flat-out ghosted you.

In a good way, this week without any contact has given you a lot of time just to think.

You really thought about what Choso said. Looking back, a lot of the things he said were true. 

You did need more time to heal before you moved on. 

The only reason you didn’t before that was because you thought that by allowing no time for the wounds to sink in, it would disappear. By distracting yourself with another, the past would soon be forgotten.

That was how it always was for you. Jumping from boyfriend to boyfriend, never allowing yourself a moment to stop and think until Choso had to do it for you.

Choso—that’s right. You still needed to think about what you would do about him.

You couldn’t do much about him not talking to you at all, but you also desperately wanted to remain friends with him. This friendship shouldn’t go to waste all because of one silly mistake.

You needed to talk things out with him. Discuss and make up. But he was making this so hard for no reason by just avoiding you at any cost.

All this thinking made you realize something, something you are amazed that you never noticed before. 

Choso didn’t give you cheap “u up?” texts. He never used you as a side chick just to look cool. He never gave you fake and hollow affirmations. He never saw you as just another girl. 

Choso treated you much better than any of your boyfriends ever treated you. 

And you were grateful for that. How have you never made him your boyfriend, ever?

Maybe you were blinded by the title of best friend. 

But now that the title was gone, could he be something more than that to you?

You sigh again. You needed to talk to him and clear stuff up, and lying around hoping he’d be the first to come up to you wouldn’t work. He was too cautious for his own good sometimes. 

To take the next step, you needed to lift your leg up before anything. 

And maybe all this time thinking drove you a little crazy, but it was still an idea. It could still work, and it was better than sitting and waiting. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You found yourself in front of his front door. You were halfway through inserting the spare key he gave you into the lock before having second thoughts. 

Wasn’t this an invasion of privacy? No, but you needed to do something. 

You could have just texted and told him you were coming over to talk, and that seemed a lot more logical. What did you have now, besides the element of surprise? 

You pushed the key in and turned it. It was too late to turn back. 

The front door creaked on its hinges, a sound you hadn’t heard in a long time. You look around to find a deserted house. 

But then a voice pierces through the darkness.

“Choso! Is that you?” Yuji yelled out into the house, stomping loudly on the way to the front door.

He stopped when he saw your surprised expression and mimicked it. He was just as surprised as you.

“You!” Yuji said as he ran up to you, “Where have you been?! You and big brother! I haven’t seen you together in ages!”

You reach down and lift the kid up, replying to his rapid questions.

“Sorry, Yuji. Choso and I got into a small fight. I missed you too.”

You looked around. It was unusual for Choso to leave his brother alone in the house, dark and empty. 

“Do you know where Choso went?” you asked Yuji as you set him down gently. He ran to the couch and sat on it, inviting you to chat with him too.

As soon as Yuji opened his mouth, the front door creaked again.

Standing face-to-face with the man you’d been trying to get ahold of for a week now. Funnily enough, it’s the same person who you were almost considered inseparable from just a few weeks before that too.

Choso looks at you with the same expression you gave him the last day you talked.

Unmoving. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly ajar. Looking straight into you.

He drops his groceries.

<- back - - - next ->

series m.list

taglist- open!

--a/n--

sorry for taking like. 4 months to update lmao

lost motivation for this

and then i had nothing to do so i just pushed myself to finish this chapter

you'll see chapter four (a nothing burger) in like

idk a month

or two or three

originally yuji was gonna be brainrotting at the tv watching skibidi toilet but there's already too much skibidi toilet in here than i would really like sooo

idk what he wass doing what would a 5 year old do in his room all alone with no technology

i still love brainrot yuji my shayla

who's excited for another cliffhanger?!?! not me

thanks for reading gang

dividers by @.enchanthings @.adornedwithlight

[prince-of-goths]

how to go to bed tutorial

going to bed top tips

going to bed and sleeping wikihow

[starryevermore]

a thought: ransom doing something to piss you off and he ends up regretting it but doesn’t know how to make it up to you cause he wants it to be genuine and he falls asleep in his office and you go to bring him to bed and you find that he’s been reading a wikihow article called “how to apologize” 🥺

learning to apologize

warnings: ransom is a dick (but tries to get better), mention of weight insecurity, pet name (princess)

He hadn't meant to. Honest. It's just...well...Sometimes he liked to get a rise out of you. He likes the way you react, how your hands curl into fists, how your voice gets slightly higher as you argue back, how your face screws up as you try to look intimidating. It's cute. He likes to know that he can make you feel such intense emotions, how you're putty in his hands. But this time, even he knew that he went a little too far.

Okay, a lot too far.

You'd been getting ready to go out to some work thing with him, and he made an uncalled for comment about how your dress was a smidge too tight. But instead of fighting back like Ransom expected you to, your face crumpled up and you retreated to your shared bathroom. He followed after you, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but the words that fell out instead only made things worse.

"Oh, come on, you can't seriously be pissed about this," he said, watching you take a reusable makeup wipe and starting to remove your makeup. "Come on, stop that. We got a dinner to get to."

"You can go."

"No I fucking can't, it's your work dinner!" Ransom tried to grab your arm, stop you from taking off more of your makeup, but you only jerked away. "Princess, please. Stop. Don't ruin the evening."

"Oh, I'm ruining the evening? Good to know."

You rinsed the makeup wipe and set it on the counter before brushing past him to go to the walk-in closet, unzipping your dress as you walked. You slid it off your body and put it back on its hanger. After taking off your bra, you grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your college years and put it on.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be sleeping in the guest room."

His heart hammered in his chest, panic rising up as he tried to fix this. "Princess, please—"

"No." You held your hand up, stopping him. "Let me be mad. We can talk about this in the morning, but you just...Please, let me be."

He didn't anything more, afraid that he would ruin things further, so he left you go, watching you leave the room. He stayed still for a moment, before deciding he needed to do something to fix this.

Talking to you was out of the question. At the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make things work. Buying you something wouldn't work either. As much as you loved being spoiled by Ransom, this wasn't the kind of thing where his money could just wish his problems away. No, he needed to do something big.

He needed to learn how to apologize.

He retired to his office, sinking into the leather seat and turning on his computer. He chewed on his lip when he opening a browser, feeling like an idiot as he typed "how to apologize wikihow" and hit enter.

He read over the article like it was the goddamn Bible, reciting each step as if it was the gospel truth.

Part 1. Preparing Your Apology

1. Give Up the Idea of Being "Right".

2. Use "I" Statements.

3. Avoid Justifying Your Actions.

4. Use Excuses Cautiously.

5. Avoid the "But".

6. Consider the Other Person's Needs and Personality.

7. Write Your Apology Down, If You Like.

Ransom had to stop himself from groaning when he realized how in depth this tutorial was. But, admittedly, he didn't have the first clue how to apologize. He never had to before. And yet, he knew he had to. He got the feeling that he could ruin everything he had built with you if he didn't get his shit together, and he wasn't about to fuck things up so easily.

So, he grabbed a pen and started drafting an apology.

Part 2. Apologizing at the Right Time and Place

1. Find the Right Time.

2. Do It in Person.

3. Choose a Quiet or Private Setting.

4. Make Sure You Have Enough Time to Have a Complete Conversation.

He'd do it first thing in the morning. He'd go to the guest room, wake you up gently if you weren't already awake. He'd take your hands in his, press soft kisses to your knuckles, before beginning to apologize. Yes, yes that could work..

Part 3. Making Your Apology

1. Be Open and Non-Threatening.

2. Use Open, Humble Body Language.

3. State Your Regret.

4. Accept Responsibility.

5. State How You Will Remedy the Situation.

6. Listen to the Other Person.

7. End with Gratitude.

8. Be Patient.

9. Stick to Your Word.

He was all set. He was sure of it. He'll run through his apology a few more times, and then he'll go to you first thing in the morning. But, first, he'll rest his eyes for just a moment...

When he opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming in through the large windows and something was sitting on him. Something was sitting on him. Wait, you were sitting on him.

"Whatcha doin', princess?" he asked, his voice low and still drowsy.

"I forgive you," you said, kissing the tip of his nose.

His brows furrowed together. "I haven't even apologized yet."

"You don't have to. I saw what you were looking up, and...Ransom, I think that might've just been the sweetest thing you've ever done."

"No, no, no. Please, let me say this." You leaned back, and he looked up into your pretty eyes as he said, "Princess, I'm so sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to poke fun at your weight. You have and always will look stunning to me, no matter how big or how small. Sometimes, I like to poke fun at you 'cause I like to know I can get you to react so strongly. I never meant, though, to make you feel insecure. I will do better from now on, and only try to get a rise out of you by saying good things about you. I promise."

A smile overtook your face as you leaned down to kiss him.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" he mumbled against your lips.

"Of course I forgive you, you big ole sap."

[nox-scrie]

The Burning Devil

TMA5 Countdown- Day 1, The Corruption and The Vast

So... the trailer dropped yesterday and this fanfic is NOT really true to the canon universe but I don't really care (as Jonny doesn't care about me or my feelings). Also it's not corrected so I'm sowwy for this @pilesofnonsense . Hope y'all like it though!!

Content Warnings: Burning, Loneliness, Cancer and some kind of Madness

Characters: Jon "Jarchivist" Sims, Martin "Too Pure 4 This" Blackwood, Jude Perry and some OCs

Fears: The Corruption, The Vast and some mentions of The Eye

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Setting: ~a month after the ending of Season 4

Word Count: 3585

~~

The Burning Devil

The train almost reached London when the weird things started happening. Most of the passengers were asleep, the train having been going non-stop for the last 15 hours. Nobody even cared to look at the two men sitting in a bed together in a sleep  car, one of the two shaking so badly you couldn't focus on his shape and the other franatically searching for something in a backpack.

The first light bulb went out as easily as if you blew a candle. One of the men started nervously bitting his lip, before abandonind the bag and craddling the trembling man in his arms. A girl on a few beds away from them, headphones in her years and a book opened in her lap, sent a nasty look towards the non-functioning light, and then looked at the two men as if she knew they were looking at her. She didn't say anything though, other than smiling in an approving way.

Then, the whole train shook, as if it was passed by an electric wave. Now most of the passangers were awake, some screaming in distress, others just mumbling about the poor quality of transportation in England.  Nobody looked at the men that were hugging on the bed, and how something started... moving on one of their skin. A sigh escaped the trembling person as they started clinging to their lover's sweater.

"Martin." was all he said, and then the eyes that have appeared on his skin started blinking rapidly, chaotically, and Martin started feeling sick.

"I... I think I can find it, Jon. I really do. Just..."

"No. The girl. She has something to tell me."

Jon was looking down at the dirty bedsheets, rows of sweat covering his forehead, but the eyes kept staring at the girl with the headphones, who was now half out of her bed and walking the short distance towards them. Martin covered Jon's forearms with a blanket, but he could do anything about the eyes that appeared on his lovers' face and neck. He was hungry, and there was no other meal than information, trauma, pain and sorrow he needed right now.

"Hey... is your partner okay? It looks like-" and then she saw the eyes. The moment was imprinted on her face, which turned a ghostly white, her black eyes wide and mouth started opening to let out a scream.

"No." was all Jon said, looking at her with his own eyes, and the scream was stuck in the girl's throat. The eyes on Jon's skin started to shine, as if blazing from within. "Tell me... tell me your story."

A tape recorder appeared on his hand out of thin air, and Martin closed his eyes for a few seconds and signaled for the girl to have a seat on their bed. She did that, but Martin wasn't sure how much of that was her own will and how much The Eye's. He extended a hand though, and she looked at it, panicked, before looking at Martin once again and seeing.. something on his face that made her take his hand.

Nobody was paying attention to the two men and the girl that were sitting in a bed, prefering to watch the windows that were now cracked in shapes that perfectly resembled some eyes. Martin started feeling his heart pumping, fatigue overtaking his body, and he didn't look st Jon, he couldn't. Instead, he focused on the girl's face and clasped her hand with both of his.

Jon pressed play, and the eyes were rolling around and around on his skin, all kinds of colors and shapes, from white to blue to purple and yellow, from small to wide and enlongated. His voice was calm, collected, and it sent a chill down Martin's spine as he tightened his grip on the girl's hand. He hated the this, the fact that The Eye had so much control, the way it turned his lover into a puppet. Even though anger was building up inside his chest, he took a deep breath and focused on the story. There was nothing either of them could do now.

"Statement of... Alicia Jesper... regarding the last car race she ever took part in. Statement recorded directly from subject, the first of November, 2018. Statement begins."

There was a moment of silence, and the eyes focused on Alicia at once, burning on her. She let out a sigh, one of distress or fear or both, and she opened her mouth and started talking. The words were heavy, and being dragged out like this was like seeing someone be placed in a chair and given a handgun, so they can kill themselves before it gets worse for them. Martin felt his hands crushed by her, and he realized that maybe she was angry too. He hoped she was; anger is not hopelessness, he would know.

"I've always been interested in cars. Either in an aesthetic sort of way, or driving them, cars are a constant in my life more than anything else... or, they used to be, at least.

My first memory is me in the front seat, being held by my father. I remember how small my hands were on the steering wheel, and how he laughed, or caughed, because I was shaking and I thought that's what it felt like to drive on a bumpy road. I must have been around three or four years old then, and my father died when I was ten. Mom never recovered, and by the time I turned fourteen, sha has changed half a dozen of jobs and has given up entirely on at least trying to get better.

When she told me we had to sell the car to pay our rent, I revolted. It was not my fault that she couldn't get herself into psychiatric help, and neither was the car's. I told her, begged her, to try to get into therapy and finding a job, but she was hellbent. And that's how I got my first fake ID.

One of the upperclassmen, some person named Morgan Doe, was into this shady, movie-like, kind of bussines. They had a reputation for faking IDs and other documents, and getting their hands on everything you wanted for the right price. I took all of our economies, which were really not that many now that I think of it, and asked for a Graduation Certificate and a fake ID. They haven't even looked at me for more than three seconds, and nodded. In two weeks, I was a new person, Allison Jay, an 18 year old who was taking a gap year before going to the University of Manchester. I got a job of delivering pizza without even trying too hard.

Now I just had to learn how to drive. There are many... many Youtube tutorials and Wikihow articles that really do help, but I had to learn it on my own, my short body barely reaching the pedals. It was a long process, but luckily I haven't destroyed anything in the time I was learning, and the police never stopped my car, even as I knew I was not driving under the speed limit.

From then on, it was the time for jobs related to driving: I delivered pizza, drove people around, even signed up for Uber for a while. The tips were good, but I had to clean the backseat so often that the material started wearing off. All in all, throught high school my mom and I did great money wise. She was still a nasty thing, angry and... in pain all the time, but at least we had something to put on the table every day. And then she died too, and I was left with a three-room apartment and crappy car. I was finishing high school then, and after the graduation ceremony, I packed my things, burned up any remains of the name Alicia Jesper I could find, sold the apartment and the car and left.

My first sports car was won in a race. It was a lucky strike; I was with one of my friends, Mirabella Ashton, who's place I was crashing, and we thought it could be fun. We were both into driving, and my friend even participated in a few races, but I was a newbie. Still, when this drunk guy came to us and said that he will race for his car, my fingers started trembling and my brain was on fire, and before I knew what was happening, I said yes. My friend was pretty tipsy too, and they let me borrow their car as long as I get it back in one piece. I joked that they didn't even know me, but I was nervous anyway. I placed a few grans on the bet, almost all of the money I had left, got into my friends' car and tried to calm my heart. I looked at the other drivers, all of them young and overrexcited that they will compete against a drunk guy and a girl, and the anger that started in my heart was more powerful than any fuel you can lay your eyes on.

So I drove. And I won. I shared the profit after the first race with my friend, and with the rest of the money and the car, I left the city. And so my life of car racing started. It was not always illegal, but it was hard to make a name for yourself in a men's world, without college or relations to send you to the top. I lived the next decade in abandoned train stations and open fields, drank so much booze my blood turned to beer, and had the time of my life. It was last year, when the incident happened.

I was good at what I was doing. I was so good, people were started to call me The Burning Devil, and got out of my way when I came to the races. It's not a popular activity, with only a few true sponsors, and after I settled down I started to get to know most of the people that came to these events. It would have been surprising to not notice the new person who came in that awful day, all dressed in red leather and with ginger hair.

She said her name was Jude, not giving a last name too. She said she was a newbie, as if you couldn't see that from how she was too-casually leaned on her car. She said she wanted to race, and that she wanted to race me.

I laughed, a bitter sound, and told her I don't want to crush her dreams when they're still so young. She in retutn extended a hand towards me, a wide smile on her face, and told me that if I give her a chance I might just change my mind. I didn't laugh this time; there was something in her voice... it made me jump slightly, as if there was a small flame under my feet. She was the one who laughed, and got inside her car without wating for me to shake her hand.

I looked at my friends, at my family basically, the only people who have cared for me and helped me improve, and smiled an already winning smile. They cheered me, and Mirabella, who was staying at my place for the time being, gave me a kiss on the lips. We were kind of in a relationship at the time, but that didn't continue after the race.

It was an easy win. I had a decade of experience and a good car, way better than the one I won when I was eighteen. I looked over to the girl in red leather, and she was staring right back at me. As the signal that warned us to get ready was heard, she smiled at me, again. This time I felt the flame cover my arms, and I hissed. I remember thinking that I should not let her get in my head.

This race was held on a hill, as were most of the races sponsored by Simon Fairchild. We were supposed to ride from the bottom of it to the top and make an U-turn to get back to where we started. It was more complicated than one might think, having to control the car both as you drive on a diagonal line, and and as you turn on a small area of space. Yet, I've made this circuit for more than a dozen of times so I wasn't worrying.

It took me only three minutes to get ahead by a good few hundred of metres. I could barely see har car, as red as her clothes, in the rear view mirror, and laughed out loud, feeling one with the car, feeling so free and so present in the world... The top of the hill was right ahead, and I was already feeling the taste of the rum the others' were going to give me and the smell of Mirabella's skin when she hugged me. It will be amazing to see the girl in red red with anger.

I reached the top of the hill witht he right speed limit to make the turn. My hand was on the break, at ready, and just as I turned it it... wasn't moving. It was stuck. I frantically started moving the handle, the end of the cliff top approaching me hurriedly, and I just couldn't. I started unbuckling my seat belt, ready to jump out of the car, and then I saw the red car, right next to my window. With half a mind I thought about how could she have gotten there so fast, and then I started to notice the fire. Her whole car was ablaze. She was laughing, but I couldn't hear her, just watch the wicked way her lips moved, and then she waved at me and I noticed that.. her skin was dripping. Just like the wax of a candle. The last thing I remember before plumetting off the hill was that her eyes and hair have caught fire too, and that it was beautiful in it's horror.

And then the car plummeted off the cliff. My seat belt was off, and I frantically tried to open the door, but it was stuck too. I think I screamed, I must have screamed, waiting for my awful end. But I.. I didn't die. The car was falling at a constant speed, like a paper airplane, almost floating in the air. The sky above me was too bright, and the green of the hill was barely noticeable in my fall. I didn't move, out of terror that changing my position might cause the lose of balance the car has. So I just waited for my inevitable death.

It's a weird thing, knowing that you'll die in only a few minutes, and knowing how it will happen, but being useless as in making a change. I watched the sky above me, that burning blue, and thought of my father. He has died of lung cancer from working long hourse in a mine around my hometown. Mom passed away in a similar way, lung cancer, but it was a weird thing... she has never smoked, or been around so heavily polluted air as my father did.

As the car kept crashing, falling, floating, I felt it. I felt the air being stuck in my chest, and I started coughing. I couldn't breath. I couldn't open my mouth enough to get in some air, any air, I couldn't make my nose inhale, or my chest stop hurting, and my head started feeling heavy as I was coughing and falling and floating towards my own death. I felt blood vessels explode across my skin with ugly pops, my eyes glued shut, I felt hopeless and wished so, so, hard to just die already.

And then it stopped. The car was still floating at a constant speed, but the pain in my chest was no longer there. I could breath, and I did that for at least ten minutes before allowing myself to open my eyes. The sky was brighter than ever, and I hated it.

That's how I lived for what must have been three days. It was coughing fits and the impossibility to breath, it was me crying softly in the driver's seat, not caring about any kind of balance as I tried with all my might to open the door, any door, and kill myself to escape from that hell. The sky turned black when night begun, such as it did everyday, but even that was too bright, ablaze, mocking me in its freedom. I couldn't sleep. I didn't feel hunger, or thirst, either, I just sat there, watching, wishing to die, wishing for the coughing fits to stop, but none of my wishes came true.

When I felt something of that floating shift, I was just getting out of a coughing fit. This one was different than the others, blood having painted my hands now. That was the moment the car started falling.

It took only a few seconds. It took only a few seconds for it to get stuck in a tree around the other end of the hill, and for me to open the driver's door as if it was nothing. I fell on the ground and started running, expecting to be sore or hungry or in pain, at least, but I was feeling nothing. I ran and left my crashed car behind, as far away as I could. I needed to get on the road, to hitchhike to the city, and to make sure everyone knew I'm okay.

That's when I saw all the people gathered right where the race started, cheering for the girl in red so loudly I could hear it from almost a mile away. I stopped in my tracks; there was no way they could have been sitting there for three days, in exactly the same clothes. Uncertain, I walked towards them and saw the girl, Jude, with her arm around Mirabella's shoulder, saying something in her ear. She was not burned up. She was fine, her car was fine, her clothes were fine. I was not fine.

When Jude saw me, she smiled that wide, awful grin. I felt like I could cry, but I cried so much in the air that I don't think I'll be able to do it again. Jude thanked me for the race, and kissed Mirabella on the head. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, but she looked at me with an indescribable expression, before turning in Jude's embrace, away from me.

"And thanks for my prize, too." said Jude, barely above a whisper, as she turned towards the crowd with Mirabella. I could see that Mirabella's shirt had a hole on the shoulder where Jude's hand has been, a hole that looked as if it was burned in the material. It was the shape of the girl in red's hand.

I hitchhiked the way home. None of my friends offered me a ride."

Martin's hands were sore, and Allison's eyes were red, as if she has been crying. Jon no longer had the eyes covering his skin and he looked tired, not sick, as he looked before. The trembling stopped, and the windows were back in their original shape. Most of the passangers thought they must have imagined them breaking, or saw the branches of the trees in the pale moonlight hitting across the windows and thought they were cracks.

"Statement ends. Thank you... Alicia. "

"Do. Not. Call me. That." she extracted her hands from Martin's grip and formed a fist towards Jon, clutching her jaw. "I don't know what you just did, how you made me talk, but what I've been through has been hard enough without some creppy guy digging in my past and making me throw up all my trauma to be recorded on that stupid tape. Do you and your boyfriend get off on that?"

"It's really not like that Allison, we-" Martin started, but she extended her hand and made a fist of his sweater, threatening him now.

"Stop it. Stop it. This has been.. a very weird night. I will go back to sleep and when I wake up you two will not say a word to me ever again, not if you don't want me to call the cops. This night, this discussion, has not happened."

Jon let out a soft, unamused laugh, and nodded. Allison got up from the bed, clutching her hands around her neck, and started coughing. She returned to her bed with her back turned towards them, headphones in her ears, and did not move from that position.

"I hate when that you have to do that." Martin said, failing to hide the edge of his voice.

"I know. Me too. But it will be over soon, okay? It will be over soon."

They looked at each other and Jon sighed, placing a small kiss on Martin's forehead. He has been getting hungrier and hungrier in the past few days, but at noleast now they had a plan. Jon clutched the tape recorder in his hand and looked at the sky, the sky that was looking back at him, and hoped that their plan will work.

[killcapitalizm]

get some rest sleep well; peter parker

request: “could you do a peter parker x reader where neither of them have had their first kiss so they just decide to get it over with and it's all cute and awkward and fluffy??? thank you!”

word count: 1,182

warnings: cute teenagers, bad writing lmao

a/n: ngl this is loosely based off my friends that did this except it started with spin the bottle (where u kiss the body part the bottle lands on,, it was a weird night). sorry this ones super short love u guys xoxo. listened to this while writing

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“You know…”

Your gaze shifted from he TV to your friend, who laid in all his tired glory beside you.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

It was that comment that set the course for the rest of that cold city night. You hummed sleepily, looking away for a moment. It was four in the morning and you should really go to sleep. Peter should, too (he kept mumbling the lyrics to Breakfast at Tiffany’s and apparently he genuinely didn't realize it). Honestly, you both should have gone to bed and hour ago when you both agreed that you two were really tired, but then you both decided to watch some space documentary instead.

You once again ignored how awfully heavy your eyelids felt and sat up on your couch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Peter looked like his brain was in another universe. His voice was more childlike when he was tired and you took a moment too long to respond because you were thinking about how cute he sounded.

“Me neither,” you admitted. Peter looked at you.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You lazily reached for the TV remote and started flipping through the channels, trying to find something interesting to watch now that the documentary was finished. A comfortable silence settles between you and Peter, as you were too tired to feel an awkward air. It took at least two full minutes for you to settle on some food channel, which you instantly regret when you start to crave everything on screen.

“Y/N?” Peter mumbled, eyes closed.

“Hm?” You blinked heavily, slowly kicking off the blanket you had pulled over your legs. It was getting sweaty under there.

“We should practice kissing,” he said and you almost thought you were hallucinating.

“What?” You shifted and completely faced him.

“We should practice kissing,” he repeated, a small smile on his face that would grow as he explained. “We haven’t kissed anyone. We’re bound to kiss someone eventually, think about how awkward it’d be if your first kiss was with someone who’s a good kisser. That’s embarrassing.”

You raised an eyebrow, considering it. He has a valid point, even if no one wants to admit that. You have no idea how to kiss but that's what practice is for. Plus, Peter’s your best friend and the only one you'd want to do something like that with. But that’s probably because you also like him. You should really go to sleep.

“No one has to know about it, either,” Peter adds, whining softly. “Please?”

“Ugh.” You push yourself up, sitting upright completely. “Okay.”

Peter grins far too adorably for his own good, scooting closer to you. “Okay, okay.”

He leans in quick and your lips barely touch because you pull back. “Wait!”

“What?” He leans back.

“Warn me, idiot,” you say, trying to mentally prepare yourself.

“How about you kiss me when you're ready, then?”

“Okay.” You breathe out. You give yourself a moment before slowly leaning in, only to snort and pull away as you start laughing out of nervousness.

“What? What?” Peter was already smiling too broadly.

“Sorry.” You bite your lip hard, quieting your laughter down to a giggle. “Sorry, I– okay, let's do it.”

Before you change your mind, you lean in again and Peter does the same. You're both grinning to much for it to really be a kiss and instead you bump your smiles together for no more than two seconds before you have to pull away to laugh.

“Gosh, we’re bad at this,” Peter breathes, still grinning as you try to laugh your embarrassment away.

“Well, how the hell do you kiss? I don't even know where to start.” You briefly glance out of the window, noticing how silent and still the would outside seemed. You remind yourself that on the other side of your apartment building, cars are no doubt whipping past each other and stores all around are catering to the night owls.

“Wait, hold on.” Peter suddenly scrambles around, grabbing his phone with energy you though he burned out hours ago.

“Don't tell me–“ You look over at what Peter’s typing on his phone. “Oh my god, are you look up a kissing tutorial?”

“You don't know how to kiss, right? I don't either. The internet exists for a reason.” He chooses a video with some generic white lady and a dead-looking man.

“Kissing might not seem like one of those things that have very concrete steps that you follow…”

You groan. “I'm not listening to her.”

“Y/N, come on.” The two on screen go through terrible dialogue and start kissing, then the video ends.

“First of all, I hate that. Second, she didn't teach us anything!” You complain.

“Yeah, that was, uh, kind of… bad– okay, I’ll just look it up on WikiHow.” Peter closes out of the video and you groan again.

“We should have gone to bed at midnight,” you grumble, your face hot. “This is sad. We are sad.”

“Shh, it'll be fine. We’ll be expert kissers by tomorrow.” He scrolls through a WikiHow article for a few moments, then sets his phone down. “Alright, come here.”

“Hey, I still don't know how to kiss.” You grab his phone and scroll back to the top.

“Are you done?” He asks after no more than ten seconds.

“Ah, whatever.” You throw his phone off to the side. “As long as no one uses tongue, we should be fine.”

“Alright, now come here.” Peter sits on his knees, smiling again.

“How about you kiss me this time? And stop smiling, you're cute and all but we can't kiss like that.” You bring yourself closer to him and he leans in right away, you try not to smile and instead remain still.

Peter briefly pulls away and mumbles against your lips, “You gotta kiss me back, Y/N.”

He kisses you again– you suppose you can call it that now– and you try to sort of press back? I don’t know what I’m doing. Peter smiles slightly and pushes his chin out, bumping it against yours. You don’t know what to do, so you just mimic his movements and try to ignore how much you loved it when he put his hand on your cheek and pushed it through your hair.

He pulls back slower than when he leaned in and you breath deeply. Peter’s hand slides away a bit and you think he’s going to take that warmth away but he doesn’t. You smile.

In a small burst of tired confidence, you lean forward and kiss him quick, and only then did you notice the heavy blush on his face. You’re fairly sure youre blushing just as deeply, though.

Peter looks away, then back into your eyes. “D’you think we did it?”
 There’s something unspoken in the air between you but you let it be. “Yeah…” You swallow, making eye contact with him. “Yeah. We did it.”

He grins boyishly, eyes shining despite how tired he was. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You smile at him.

“You know, I’ve never made out with anyone before.”