Fuck It. Worm On A String Picrew Chain. Let's Fucking Go

Workaholic Pt.1

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Sabastian x reader

'I have 3 hours to get down 2 more levels' Your hurried footsteps echoed through the cavern. The heavy thuds ricochet against the damp cave walls and water droplets mixed with the dirt and rock below, making a crunchy and muddy mess of your shoes.

Rocks crumbled under your pickaxe, and overgrown vines were shredded by your scythe. The squeaks of bats and the indescribable sounds of slimes closed in.

Dozens of rocks lay in ruin; precious gems forgotten in corners that seemed to momentarily escape your concentration. The last rock in this damp hell yields nothing. Not a hidden ladder-nor salvageable stone - just ache.

'Damn, a rock crab' the creature scuttled toward you with its tough skinned limbs. The creature-in one swift movement-cut into the flesh of your leg. Blood began to escape the wound.

'No, I'm almost there.' Thirty minutes left; one level until another elevator shaft appears. The energy in your body began to drain, and the rock crab fell lifeless due to your heavy sword.

The bat to your left dove to your head but met your sword. It too fell limp. The slime slowly bounced over to you. You stepped towards the bat's corpse to collect it's wings but the ground below crumbled.

You mentally cursed until a familiar 'ding' filled the cavern. A beautiful diamond-adorned rock twinkled in the dim light of your glowing ring.

Your stopwatch stopped clicking, the silence wad deafening. 12:00 AM. Your bones felt too heavy for you to carry.

The ground behind you crumbled and a growl was heard. Your heart dropped. You hobbled over to the elevator, blood painting the void colored ground beneath you.

A bottle on your hip clanked against a cherry bomb, setting a beeping timer.

You threw the small red explosive behind you and chugged the liquid in the pale red-well used-bottle. The taste was earthy and opulent, spicy and somewhat fruity. The liquid heavily coated your throat and the previous gash on your leg sealed in a white light.

You entered the elevator feeling like time paused as the dust and mud on your body was lifted by the effects of the life elixir. You heard a faint explosion as the elevator traveled upward.

12:10 AM. You ran through the suffocating darkness back to your small cabin. The smell of the mountains calming your nerves.

12:50 AM. You stood outside the door, with the energy from the elixir quickly fading. Taking a deep breath you entered the cabin.

A fire was lit to warm the house. You stumbled past the TV that played a screen over encumbered by static and white noise-glancing for a moment but loosing interest. You dropped your bag of heavy rocks and gems and tools by the bedside. Dust clouded the floor.

You maneuvered yourself under the blankets and glanced over at Sebastian. He cuddled up to your cat, Soup. He stirred in his sleep.

"Hmmn... Babe? It's late." He grumbled.

"I know. I was only in the mines a bit, I stayed in the cleared areas." You said, lying through your teeth. He eyed you.

"See? Not a scratch." Your eyes grew heavy. He rolled over to face you. You cuddled him and closed your eyes.

"You smell like mushrooms..." He said, a tinge of sadness.

"I know." You replied, heart sinking.

"You got hurt again. Didn't you?" He asked.

Your eyed burned. You held back the lump in your throat.

"I'm fine." You tried not to let your voice waver.

"That's not what I asked." He gripped the back of your shirt.

"I know." You said pulling him closer.

Soup hopped off the bed and lay in front of the fireplace.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

You both spoke in sync. He looked at your closed eyes that leaked tears. He examined the scrunched expression and how your lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't mad. He held your face gently and leaned in to kiss you.

"I love you too." You said to him, before he could pepper kisses to your face like he usually does. His heart felt heavy. You both fell asleep after that.

Just a lil sneak peek at a Gyutaro x reader I'm making (I will be making 3 editions for she/her, he/him, and they/them pronouns).

i wanna read walter x reader fics

like, look at this fucking bitch, i wanna kiss his bald head

i fucking love this specific type of expression rick does whenever he’s sincerely super caught off guard by something and just stops in his tracks

It's starting to become a real crew here...

I wonder who the subcontractors are?

Especially in a marine life setting

I JUST GOT OUT OF THE DECLAN MCKENNA CONCERT RAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Holy-- I can die happy, now

The Portal

There's a depressed person that lives across from me.

Their window curtains are always open, and various-luscious-plants lie in front of the portal.

Every morning, I see them lay in bed. They hope that they can sleep all day, but they always wake up and soulessly wonder about.

It's 11:57a.m.

It's a sad sight to see, it's only a kid.

The melancholy in each sigh, and waning step.

The tears that stream down their face everyday grow heavier and louder as the weeks progress.

One afternoon, I could hear them crying.

I still saw them through that damn window.

Just laying in bed. Face red, swolen, and lost.

They looked like they were already dead.

Sometimes I swear they'd see me staring back through the portal, but they never really seemed to care.

Then, the third week of April came around. Their cries were silent, sinking deep into themself, forever leaving prints on their skin (in the wrinkles of their face and in the scars that they bore)

They repeated, over and over, "I'm okay. I'm okay. It's okay. I'm fine. I'm fine."

They lied to themself. Everyday.

Sometimes, when I'd catch a glance

They're full of horrible rage; cursing, yelling, punching walls, pushing others away, pulling out their own hair.

Regret.

Apathy.

Guilt.

Emptiness.

Words escape with toxic venom and force, without a second thought.

The storm that followed them would always fall apart and sink once the door to their bedroom closed.

They, too, would always fall apart and sink.

It was like the door cut off the gasoline that fueled the fire.

And instead--settled the fog and ashes into the cold hardwood floor. Staining the once whole shattered glass.

They pleaded with a higher being that they did not believe in.

But nobody came. No one could clear the cinders or the ash or glass or dust that lay on the floor or their silvery, charred skin.

Then they'd stare into the portal--at me.

And I'd stare back--at myself.

KNot

Everybody thinks he's so tall,

But in his mind he's so small

And with every grain that will crawl for each incoming call...

he too does fall.

It's ironic not iconic

To tie glass models to yourself.

It's ironic

To only see your imperfections on that shelf.

It's not iconic

To simultaneously care too little and care too much.

Tall or small, he's stuck in a knot.

Ironic or iconic, he's left there to rot.

He's dug himself a hole, coffin lid tied taught;

And down he goes, ready or not.

It's realy bad...