The last day or so has been nothing but insufferable. Intense throbbing in the back of his skull. His eyes felt as if they were going to explode at any minute. How insufferable. No wonder goldbloods hated themselves; everything from top to bottom was unbearable. The skin, the mind, the eyes. It all sucked. He wasn't exactly sure how they dealt with it. Aside from negging each other in public and degrading others of the same color.
He started to understand why Mituna hated being touched; his shit must have sucked with how broken his mind had been after their session. He was lucky that Mituna was willing enough to help him. Even if he gave him what was their version of wriggler training wheels.
And the copper rod was helping, but only marginally. He turned it around in his hand for a minute before setting it down on the floor, staring at the inky darkness that illuminated his shared bedroom. Currently, only hosting him. Kurloz couldn't share a bed with him yet, not until he could calm down the psionics so that it didn't fry him while they slept. Or, in the very least, until he could stop hearing his thoughts when he tried to sleep. He had to get over it; it wasn't helping anyone, not even himself. All he could do was just bitch on his stupid blog and be miserable.
He just had to get over it and cope.
==> Cope.
It was rather rude of you to complain, bitch, and bemoan your situation. You had nothing special about you as a seadweller. Well... aside from the few physical mutations.
Otherwise, nothing special.
So how did you end up with the worst set of psionics and a fucked up mutation on top of that? You couldn't help but take what Data said personally. You liked Data a lot, and even if he was joking about killing you. You took it personally.
Maybe he was probably serious. He hates goldbloods so much. You hate yourself right now. You've always hated yourself, but right now, it was strong. Painfully so, you could feel it in your skin. It stung.
So.
Fucking.
Bad.
Which was fine. It was only for two weeks. You could do this; you've gone through worse. You can do this. You can. Nothing bothered you, you took the loss of your eye in stride, and you were hot while doing it.
You could do this.
You can do this.
You can...
Taste copper...
So much copper. You look down at your arm, and there is yellow blood everywhere. Oozing out of a bitemark.
You lick your lips. Gross. This was one way to deal with it. You stop yourself and lower your arm from your face. Your limbs unfurling from the position they found themself in. A disgusted sigh escaped your lips as you pressed a palm into one of your eyes. Turning your arm around as you stared at the bitemark. It wasn't bad. There was another on your hand. It wasn't bad either.
You pick up the copper rod again and squeeze it, yellow and blue electricity going through the rod. The blood on your hand fizzled from the energy coming out of it, the room smelling now of burnt blood and static. Lowering your hand to the electrical socket nearby, you press the rod to it and pass the electricity through. The lights in the room flicker for a moment before coming back on, the TV nearby thrumming back to life, noise filling the room again.
"Wow, this fucking sucks." Yeah, it did, and you were a pussy for not being able to deal with it.
â˝ Memory becomes absolute garbage. Like âwhy am I in the kitchen?â garbage. âWhat was I saying?â garbage. Their brain is running on buffering screens and regret.
â˝ Fine motor skills? Ha. Theyâre dropping everything. Pens. Phones. Entire moral compass. Theyâre basically a malfunctioning claw machine.
⽠Hallucinations creep in. That jacket on the chair? Suddenly a person. That noise? Definitely doom. Everything becomes mildly haunted.
⽠Time gets weird. Five minutes feel like a year. A full hour disappears and they swear they blinked wrong.
⽠Irritation skyrockets. They get mad at chairs. At air. At gravity. At the audacity of other humans continuing to exist.
⽠Their voice sounds weird. Slow, scratchy, like they swallowed sand.
â˝ They walk like a drunk baby giraffe. Walls suddenly jump closer. Floors rise unexpectedly. Coordination said: âIâm out.â
â˝ Zoning out becomes a hobby. They stare at random objects like theyâre trying to understand quantum mechanics.
⽠Vision blurs in and out. Like someone smeared Vaseline over their eyeballs out of spite.
â˝ Their body just hurts. Not a dramatic pain, just the âwhy does my skeleton feel like itâs buzzing?â pain.
â˝ Food cravings go feral. Theyâd fight someone for a stale cookie.
â˝ Terrible choices. They will absolutely say âIâm fineâ while making decisions that end in disaster.
⽠Random emotional implosions. Crying because their sock feels wrong? Yes.
⽠Cold hands. Cold feet. Cold heart. (Okay maybe not the last one, but it feels like it.)
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