Sunday night, 8 p.m. sharp you're there with your face pressed against Equius' sweaty کتیا, کتيا tits as he holds آپ like the baby.

6 months back, Equius lost both of his testicles and since then he lost his wife, Aradia, and daughter, Nepeta. آپ only remebered their names because thats all he talks about. Well that and his glory days as a fucking رس, جوس head, آپ mean "competitive body builder." However, unlike other bodybuilders Equius' has tits. Hormone therapy came along with a side of high testosterone and because of that, his body had to kick up the estrogen to maintain balance.

Equius' big arms looped آپ right inside him, but آپ didn't push back. آپ pulled in, right in his musk and sweat and buried your face into his tits. Motor کشتی him while you're at it.

"If آپ wish to cry, go ahead." He drone as he pat down your wild licks of jet. "It will be alright."

It will be alright, آپ chanted. Instantly, a set of dominos were set off. One سے طرف کی one from the core of your useless piece of shit of a body, chemicals started to react and soon enough آپ further dug your nose into his chest. آپ let go.

Crying is what آپ need. The release from your shitty job, your shitty boss and his shitty accent, from your shitty harelquin filled life. No one understands but most of all no one listens to your bucktooth ass. Your mouth agape, tongue readying and willing to lash out to those who put your پچھواڑے, گدا down. Then again who are آپ really trying to face? Staring at your mirror, staring at your baggy, colbalt glare of purest form of isolation. Even آپ don't listen to your mind, body یا soul, and thus is why آپ have an insomina.

Which is why you're here, for two years and 6 months you've been attending support groups. It's only when آپ have an invisible gun to your head is when someone actually leads an ear. Actually make آپ feel like you're beloved. It feels nice to be cared for, after you've been rejected سے طرف کی the ones آپ loved. Makes a whole lot easier to cry too.

This is how آپ meet Karkat Vantas.

Equius gives a jerking sob. Up with the shoulder blade, down with his articulation of breath. Huff, huff, puff, puff. Big bad Equius is going to blow down your house. Though, that doesn't bother آپ one bit. This is the closet آپ will get to sleep, and آپ will get your sleep because آپ fucking earn it سے طرف کی those hours آپ pull.

"Only the strong will survive," Equius remarked.

Peaking your cerulean open, آپ see the other men in the Remaining Men circle. All hugging and crying, it warms آپ up until آپ saw him.

His face contorted to one side while he pulls a long drag from his lips, blowing into your دائرے, حلقہ as a man cry his burdens into the crook of his neck. His eyes meet yours.
Pants on fucking fire.

He just rubs آپ the wrong way, he wasn't even trying to fake it. Short matte black hair, half-lidden amber eyes that fell endlessly against the چینی مٹی کے برتن flesh that barely covered bone. Maybe he is sick, in the fucking head because he's always in yours tuberculosis group on Friday. Around Wednesday night, he's staring at آپ with that same drag in his mouth at your melanoma round table. Monday night he's attending the lukiemia rap group. What a fucking joy, oh wait, he also goes to your brain parasite group on Thursdays.

It annoys you, it infuriates آپ to know he's there. آپ need to this, آپ need to relax and let go of all the stress thats blocking your chi.

This is your vacation.


The first time آپ ever step foot into a support group, it was right after your doctors appointment for your insomnia. آپ don't know why آپ have it, but آپ do know it's killing you. Albeit, your doctor refuses to see the murderous aspect. Only telling آپ to chew valerian root, get excrise and just listen to your body. When all آپ really want is the red-and-blue pill.

"If آپ wish to see true torture, I suggest witnessing First Eucharist on Tuesday night, Brain Parasites on Thursday," Doctor Maryam kept listening مزید and more, سے طرف کی the end of it all.

آپ went.

آپ never gave out your real name when it came to introductions: This is Andrew, this is Jack, this is Droogs. All force smiles and greetings.

"Hello, Hey, Hi," we all get it.

Making her way towards the front, Aranea took center stage. No doubt she was captivating, the way her hips pop with each click of her heel. Too bad آپ lost all effort and energy to prove your heterosexuality back in high school. Still, you'll admit when آپ see an attractive female. Especially how smoothly her words flow like velvet, leaving tracks of bumps along your forearm.

She instructs آپ with a tug of her frames up her nose to close your eyes and just follow her voice. Follow her through the red curtains, green curtains and pass a man with a cue ball.

آپ wake up again. Eyes flown open to nothing but the sky. Body stretch across fields upon endless fields of shade, soon enough آپ pop on your elbows and took a glance around.

"Watch out," with a snap, آپ gaze at a lone figure to the north. Hesitantly, آپ began your journey. Closer and closer, louder and louder they warned," watch out."

For what? آپ differ. Shoving a wristful into your سلیکس سے طرف کی the time آپ reach the yellow salamader.

"Friendship stairs."

آپ wake up and you're up on the first floor. Equius and other men file out the building, while آپ just stood there. Bewildered and unresponsive. Until push came to shove.

"Move bitch, get out of the way."

His boney fingers sunk into your linen pressed dress shirt, allowing him to shimmy right pass you. A trail of toxin following every whip of his heel.

آپ will get Karkat Vantas back, if آپ could آپ would throw that painters bucket at his face. Just to watch him squirm on the floor where he belongs.

آپ need some fucking sleep.