who from any media you would like would lay on top of an autistic partner if asked/give them very tight hugs or would let them fidget w/ their hands and stuff
I’ve already answered an ask similar to this but I am always happy to answer again rhehehe
dc:
Guy Gardner loves when you lay on him. Loves when you run your fingers through his hair, feel him up—he doesn’t mind sitting on the couch with you while you mess with his hands, adores the chance to grab you up in the span of his arms—it’s his favorite thing to do, honey
Dick Grayson can’t pass up the chance to hold you in his arms. He lets himself be used as a piece of furniture if it means that you’ll be in his grasp and at peace—he loves when you want to explore him and find a pocket of comfort with him that he’s always happy to provide
Roy Harper knows the grounding ability of a hug. He knows the necessity of having someone who can be your harbor in unsettled waters and loves being the person who can bring you back to peace—he lets you do whatever you want with him if it means that you’re able to relax with his company
Superboy Prime absolutely will let you take a rest on him, will be the person to hold you tight in his grasp, will let you do whatever you need to stim on him—he can take it. You might not escape the ribbing tease here and there, but it’s all an act; he loves it more than you know
marvel:
Kurt Wagner relishes the chance to help you by offering the warmth of his body, to have the two of you deeply intertwined in an embrace where he holds you as tightly as you need. He loves when you bury your face into him and muss with his curls, because it means that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be
Namor can’t help but be amused at the need for you to hold him, at the need for his placating touch—but he can’t deny how much it pleases him to see how you yearn for the comfort of his body, for the heft of his grasp. Makes him feel very kingly indeed
Johnny Storm loves being able to be your security blanket. He loves cuddling with you and being your own personal weighted, heated body pillow—feeling you relax against him as you press kisses to his face is all that he needs
Peter Parker will happily offer himself up to be able to keep you by his side, to give you everything that you need. He wants to make sure that you get all the comfort he can offer with him if it means that you’ll be by his side
extras:
Hellboy is the absolute best for hugs and for laying on. He loves when you mess with his shaved down nubs or when you want to fiddle with the bifurcated tip of his tail—he always keeps a grounding hand on you and makes sure to do what he can to keep you on or around him hehe
Nolan Grayson can’t help but look at you with a smirk that turns up his face, but it doesn’t stop him from pulling you on top of him with such marked ease, and humming a deep, rumbling laugh that seems to thrum through you in pitched reverberation
Spawn hasn’t known the comforting touch of a person in a long while—when you ask for the sanctity of his arms, you’re both saving each other. You find peace and he finds heaven with you holding him
I don’t see a lot of spawn stuff on here, a shame for sure, so I came to contribute
TW for canon typical violence
Pt 2
Pt 3
Pt.4
You’re a reporter, trying to get something good to at least get something of yours published for once. And as most reporters do, you go out and do interviews. Your first mistake was going out on your own, your partner said he was sick. Typical, he never wanted to work for anything. You had big ambitions, you wanted to interview New York’s very own anti hero. Spawn.
This task proves way to difficult for an interview, it kinda went over your head how hard it’d be to actually find the guy. You knew that he frequented Rat city often, but you were a bit nervous going there on your own. So after a long day of waiting for something to happen, you gave up. It was getting dark, so you started home, already feeling the headache coming on for the boring writing you’d have to resort to, again.
You should’ve seen it coming in hindsight, you were alone, it was getting dark, and it’s New York City. You barely had time to process the movement in your peripheral before you were yanked into an alley way. You let out a frightened scream while being slammed into a wall. Two men stood in front of you, the biggest one held you against the rough brick, while the other was the lookout. The one holding you was demanding you give up your wallet, when you refused, he shoved you to the very dirty ground.
The other guy was urging the bigger one to hurry up, which made the other guy annoyed. The bigger man only got a few hard kicks to your back before getting thrown away from you. A clawed hand pushed you back, away from the violence about to occur. You watched with a stunned expression as Spawn, the very man you’ve been looking for all day, was here and absolutely obliterating the men. I mean if being beaten didn’t make you a little surprised, watching the men get killed in front of you was a shock.
When it was all over, Spawn turned towards you. He eye’d you before turning away woth a cold.
“Go home.”
You felt a shiver run down you spine at he deep and gravely voice. You were still reeling from what had occurred, you just watched him walk off. When you realized this might be your only chance to get this interview, you practically sprinted forwards with a desperate.
“Wait!”
You nearly ran into him when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. You took a few steps back, your heart racing.
“Um-I-Thank you.” You blurted, feeling a bit at a loss when he turned and kept walking.
“Uh, mr. Spawn sir! If I could just ask you a few questions!” You say quickly, following him.
“I don’t do questions. Go.” He grumbled, but you persisted.
“I’m a reporter, and I think that people give you a bad rep. You help me, I help you.” You say, skidding to a stop as he turned on his heel, getting into your face.
“I don’t want your help.” He growled, making you shrink a bit. But you wouldn’t let him shake your resolve.
“But you need it. Everyone thinks you’re just another low life criminal. But you just saved my life. I can rewrite the story, show everyone that you aren’t the villain they make you out to be!” You say sternly, though your voice definitely wobbled a bit. You watched as the eyes on his mask narrow, before going back to a normal scowl.
“Fine.” He grumbled begrudgingly. He turned away and kept walking. You smiled, pulling out your voice recorder and followed him. You suppressed the urge to laugh when you watched him visibly sag with all the questions. What an amazing turn of events.
Stands behind you, like a huge shadow. Threatening anyone who he feels as an enemy
Sneaks into your room and stays there. Might cuddle next to you if you let him.
He puts his hands around your waist, pulling you close
Hes so very gentle with you. Never wanting to hurt you
He puts his head to yours
He carves your affection, and will definitely let you hug him.
He listens to you yap
Will put your hands in his, telling you the sweetest things
He follows you around the house like a lost puppy
He feels safe with you. You treat him like a human being. And thats what he needs the most
He'll also come to you for comfort. You have made your way into his heart and now he trust you.
His cape will keep you warm. Often tangles around you or your leg.
His green glowing eyes burn into yours, he'll often stare at you. He can't help it. His eyes hold many emotions, if you look close enough
He wants to be the only one to you but at the same time thinks you deserve better
He wont take his mask off, so you'll have to do it. He doesnt wanna scare you, but slowly lets you do ur thing. Your kiss is like heavens to him. Makes him want to touch you, and so he holds you close.
Yandere Spawn (MK 11) with a flighty darling—run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run
🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn isn't surprised that you are absolutely terrified of him. Having a hellspawn stalk your New York apartment and refuse to leave you alone is one hell of a scare. Still, he refuses to acknowledge that he had a part in intertwining both of your fates. It wasn't exactly difficult. You are simply a human—a mortal.
A little magic here and there and stealing your soul from your body and infecting it with a part of him also helped.
🐍ֶָ֢ You were a perfect Earthrealmer. Despite your need to flee every time he materialized out of thin air. He almost never spoke. He was like a ghost. He'd drop off groceries or things that you had been wanting to buy for the longest time. He'd sit on the edge of your couch and watch movies with you. Although he'd mostly just stare at you. It's a bad habit of his, but he just can't stop it. Your aura is so irresistible. Still, you would hide behind your couch, under your bed, or run out of your apartment and not return for hours on end.
So he tried to amend this by being as non-threatening as possible. He'd try to make himself appear smaller. He'd move something gently to notify you right before he would appear. He kept nightmares out of your dreams. The bad energy and entities that were attracted by him were never allowed within your space.
🐍ֶָ֢ You tried using holy objects on him! From every religion, you tried something. Some objects would burn him more than others, but he was used to the suffering at this point. Spawn would pluck the object out of your hand and offer his instead. You'd start fearfully sobbing and praying to a deity, or deities. It was more of an inconvenience if anything.
He's already pissed off enough gods in his lifetime. He doesn't need one stealing your soul back and keeping you from him.
🐍ֶָ֢ It doesn't help that his K7-Leetha, and by extension his cape, have taken a liking to you. Leetha reaches out to you often, taking a hold of you. He isn't the one doing it. It's the parasite willing his body to hold you. He feels the need to emphasize this since you don't believe him. It's one of the few times he has actually used his words.
He doesn't fear much, but he fears himself. He fears himself hurting the only person he loves.
That's so fucking cheesy, he knows. It's like the plot of some stupid, shitty paranormal romance book, like his ex read.
It terrifies him. His cape will wrap you up and snuggle into you, feeding off of your warmth and energy.
It makes you woozy and panicky, only fueling him.
🐍ֶָ֢ You try to attack him, and he lets you. He can't help but chuckle at your pathetic attempt. You're like a cornered animal attacking the person trying to help you. It didn't work any of the other times, so why would it work now?
He's truly okay with it.
If it makes you feel safe, then he'll take some gunshots, punches, knives, and anything else you throw at him.
🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn tries his best to be vulnerable with you so you aren't as skittish. He speaks a little of his backstory, trying to make his voice less deep and gritty so as not to intimidate you. He asks you to call him any name, any nickname, just not Albert or Spawn. Albert has long since died, and Spawn has been through far too much to be loveable. He's just whatever he is with you. He's okay with that.
🐍ֶָ֢ The most important part is to hide his grizzly murders from you. You know he is a hellspawn and has some horrible shit and some good things sprinkled along in there. Still, his slaughters for you are sacrificial in nature. They feed him and give his obsession life. It makes Leetha even more protective of you. You make Spawn happy. You make his systems all fuzzy and hormone-y. That's how Leetha would describe it.
He keeps this secret like his life depends on it. You're getting more used to him. Why make you scared of him again?
Inspired by Todd McFarlane's 1997 animated series from the Spawn comic series.
"Resurrected from the ashes of his own grave in a flawed agreement with the powers of darkness, Simmons is reborn as a creature from the depths of Hell."
Context: Spawn loving and protecting you, homeless reader, dark subjects such as death, blood, abandonment, and brief mentions of sexual assault but reader does not suffer from it.
Frigid and grim were the nights in Brooklyn. At least, the place where you resided in that much was true. Often taking comfort in the abandoned cathedral, that is where you fatefully encounter the hell spawn.
Rumors of him had stretched across the alleys. A supernatural creature in which his priorities are unclear. He shares the traits of a hero for some and a nightmare for others.
Praying as you do, the man stumbles upon you. First, the green glow of his eyes materialize in which his emergence from the darkness of the shadows follows. You gasp but remain quiet, feeling fearful and yet, you weren't exactly trembling either.
The sounds of murmuring rain with an occasional boom of thunder filled the room and then his heavy footsteps followed with the jingling of his chains.
You moved from your knees to stumbling back onto your bottom on instinct as his tall and muscular body loomed over your smaller one.
No words were exchanged.
His glowing slits for eyes softened for a moment, locked onto you.
With a blink of your eyes, he vanished.
That was the first encounter you had with the peculiar man. From there on out, meetings with him became more integrated into your life. Now it was incessant.
He would not leave your side. He mostly stayed quiet. All you knew was that he goes by Spawn and he watches over you as a protector. At times, you couldn't help but be creeped out. But at the same time, you knew you were safe with him. In fact, you knew you were safe with him.
He provides for you. Carrying you when you're tired. Bringing you new clothes to wear along with things to upkeep basic hygiene in these hard times. Putting his large cape around you whenever you were cold. He'd even bring you books to read to keep you from your boredom.
He showed he cared about you and your well being in a great share of details. He wouldn't let anyone take your joy from you.
At first it started out as his curiosity. Could he love again? Would he dare take a chance? Ultimately, he allowed himself to be vulnerable to you. He allowed his vulnerability to be at your mercy. The more he knew you, the greater his love for you became.
Aside from caring for you and being a provider, he was in it for the kill when you were faced with dangers of the menacing alleyways.
When a man attempted to have his way with you, a scream from you was all Spawn needed. He was there. First, he ensured you were safe and untouched. He handed you a strip of his torn cape and told you to put it on as a blindfold. You learned to not question him and did as he recommended. His reasons for everything he does is to protect you. Because when you did, he tore the head off your almost assaulter as well as another body part that needs no explaining. The loser's body lay on the cold and wet pavement as his crimson blood leaked to the nearest drain, rats coming to do what nature calls them to do.
Nurturing you in the cathedral, his large hands pet your head. You lay on his chest as his cape wraps around the both of you. There, the two of you rest, remaining unbothered.
Spawn and you alike appreciated the peace you two brought upon each other. Sometimes you had wondered if you were really praying to god or the devil. Because he truly was a guardian from hell.
When Al dies it’s Terry who helps you heal through his absence. Too bad he’s in love with you though.
Reader is always black unless I say differently
SFW, mentions of a character burning to death obviously, widowed and pregnant Reader - mom!reader
Who gave Michael Jai White the right to be so fine? (Pic source: Spawn (1997))
2k+ words
It’s Terry who comes to break the news to you.
You’re in one of your favorite dresses, the one Al likes the most, heels on and hair done up waiting for your boyfriend to come home.
You’d talked a few nights ago. Al had gotten more sentimental than usual when while laying around after sex. He’d rubbed up and down your sides talking all about wanting to slow down soon, maybe add to the family outside of Spaz, move into a bigger house outside of the city.
There’s a beep outside and you smile to yourself, setting down two wine glasses next to your best ceramic plates and rushing to the door. You fix up your jheri curls in the reflection of one of the decorations on the wall as you wait.
It seems like tonight would be the beginning of you both settling down. You pick up the positive pregnancy test you left by the key bowl and hide it in your hand behind your back.
Rocking on your heels with a grin on your face you start to build yourself up. Al’s going to be so happy, you can’t wait to see the excitement take over the usually stoic man’s face.
It’s when the light from inside the house illuminates a face that’s not Al’s that your smile careens into a confused frown.
“Oh,” you put the test back by the keys. “I’m sorry Ter. Where’s Al?”
You look over his shoulder for him but when that doesn’t reveal your boyfriend and Terry still hasn’t spoken you turn back to the white man.
The look on his face makes your insides twist.
“Terry? Where's Al?”
Your voice wobbles and your face heats up as he only stands there searching for what to say.
That night becomes one of the worst of your life. Terry stumbles through his words, tears glistening in his eyes as he talks about a solo mission, about it not going well, how he was caught in a fire.
After that it starts to feel like the only time people engage you in conversation is to talk about the planning for Al’s funeral service.
You go to the viewing you mainly worked to set up and there’s hardly anything to “view”. It’s a closed casket out of necessity, and when you’d read the report and were sent to further identify his body you fully understood why. The sheer severity of the damage, the fact that the report uncovered signs of struggle meaning that your boyfriend had died being burned alive, had made you sob into Terry when you’d completed the identification.
That night you had curled up in bed angry at the fetus growing inside you because it seemed like a trade off. A baby girl was what your doctor said, for your husband’s soul and suffering.
It takes two months for you to get over that line of thinking and be happy for the little mixture of both of you. Your Cyan.
At the funeral Wynn tells you about how the mission that killed him was supposed to be Al’s last. He tells you he loved you till his last breath. It feels like salt in the wound. The way he’s eyeing you is as malicious as it is inappropriate.
You brush him off and walk over to your best friend. You’ve got a checkup to go to.
Cyan, you and Al’s little girl, comes into the world barely breathing and premature.
When you finally get rolled out by the nurses you watch her in the NICU with shaking hands clasped over your pendant and hope to everything that she doesn’t get taken from you the way Al did.
In the end Cyan makes it, you sign for your parental nights with the first speck of real joy you’ve felt in months, and then go home. She came two months early, six months after Al’s death and had to stay a month at the hospital before she was cleared, but your friends and family throw you a baby shower once she’s in your custody on the actual day she was due and you cry as you dance with her.
She’s beautiful, brown skin and a full head of soft curls on her head with the biggest most aware brown eyes. The first time you got to hold her she was barely bigger than your palm and looking at her now, nearly two months old and finally healthier, it makes you smile.
Cyan’s one and just barely talking, better at baby sign than you by a mile, and she’s giving you a run for your money constantly reaching for crap she can’t even see on your counters and shelves.
Her and the dog Al brought with him, Spaz, are constantly running around too but you love their connection.
Cyan is messily rubbing a stick of butter around a baking pan while babbling to you, only a few of her words actually cobbling together intelligibly, but you answer her back conversationally while completing your own task.
You’re stirring two bowls, one with cornbread batter and the other with brownie. Terry’s coming over for dinner at seven and you and your girl are more than happy to host him for the night.
Cyan because she gets to have some chocolate, and you because you appreciated the check-ins Terry made with you every few weeks.
You pour chocolate chips into the batter and pop one in your mouth afterwards. It’s as you’re going to fold the chips in that a pan gets shoved onto the counter and a tiny hand waves in your peripheral.
“Some peas?”
You huff but a smile tugs on your lips and you get a piece of chocolate and place it on her hand.
“Just one.”
Cyan gives you a look, lickerish lil girl, but thanks you regardless before putting it in her mouth. She sucks the chocolate while placing the second pan on the counter on her tiptoes. You help her push it further up before shooing her out the kitchen with the dog so you can get both items into pans and then the oven.
You’re slipping the basting pan out the oven to make room for the smaller ones when there’s a knock on the door.
Wiping your hands off on a towel you hurry to greet Terry. You hug, he’s sweet about it as he compliments you. In jeans and a shirt you swat at him and laugh before taking him to see Cyan where she’s playing with her wobbles in the living room.
The night goes easily after that. Terry’s lovely as usual and having an extra set of hands with your kid is always a plus. You guys eat and he compliments the hell out of you and you duck your head. You’re glad he’s here, you guys helped one another through Al’s death and he was a nice reminder of before.
You could admit that you didn’t mind that now. It didn’t send you into a rut anymore when you thought about all the things Al was missing, and you were thankful for that.
At the end of dinner, after dessert, Cyan’s all messy and so you go to bathe her. She only had some of the spinach, shredded chicken, a few bites of your cornbread and subsequently your brownie but she’s somehow still sticky. Terry talks about random things with you through the door and as soon as you’re done, and your girl has on her pajamas, the itis hits her and she falls straight asleep.
You put her on the couch as you and Terry keep talking. He’s stressed. Wynn has him covering a supposed smear campaign on him, fighting against nasty allegations (you make sure not to roll your eyes) and he’s been working around the clock running behind his boss.
Terry’s hand slides a bit too close to your thighs while he’s laughing, and he tries to put his arm around your shoulders while you’re watching a kids movie, but both times you easily shrug him off and keep it pushing without much thought.
When you suggest wrapping things up for the night, thoughts of Al swirling in your head and dampening your mood some, is when Terry makes a move you can’t actually gloss over.
You hand him his coat as he’s standing by the door.
“Thanks for coming, again.”
He lingers as he passes his hand over yours to take the coat.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Y/n. A good home cooked meal is always nice.” You blink down at his hold and he lets go. “So, uh, maybe we can do this again at the end of next week?”
“Sure,” you smile at him and his hand goes to the back of his neck as he bites his lip.
“Well goodnight,” he murmurs.
“Night,” you say. “Stay safe on your drive—”
You freeze at the feel of lips smashing against yours, hands coming halfway up to push him away before stalling. He’s kissing you, lips moving against your still ones, trying to coax you into action. Terry, Al’s best friend, is kissing you right now.
In the end you back away yourself, eyes wide and jaw slack.
“What…?”
Terry’s eyes are a fun mixture of pleading and excited as he tries to get closer to you. You take a step back and he finally gets the memo and stops, brows furrowed.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, Y/n. I make you happy, you smile more when I’m here, and I can be a great father to Cyan,” he gestures to your daughter and something in you clenches in disgust. “I’ve always been fond of you, you're gorgeous and a great mother, and I think if you give us a chance you’ll love it.”
Finally you find your nerve.
“Terry, I appreciate the help you’ve given us, I really do. But the love of my life died barely a year ago and you’re hitting on me right now,” you move your hand to indicate the space between you. “You were my husband's best friend, there is no “us” and there never will be. I’m surprised you think I’d go for that with you at all.”
Terry reaches for your arm and you scowl, snatching it away.
“I know you miss him, I do too, but you shouldn’t let his death stop you from living your life.”
“You say that as if me healing implicitly has to happen with you.”
“It could. It has been.”
You roll your eyes, “The answer is no Terry.”
He runs his hand over his face as he watches you. Cyan starts to stir where she was left on the couch and you walk over to lift her up. Curled around her Spaz shifts his eyes up to watch as you take her before sitting up to follow you back to the front door.
Cyan babbles some before cooing softly and settling down on your chest. You hold her to you and sway softly as you walk. She’s got her father’s eyes as she blinks up tiredly. You smile down at her.
When you glance back towards Terry you notice the poor look he’s giving the both of you and give him a hard stare in turn.
He sighs, “I can still help you take care of Cyan…even if we don’t…you know.”
You shake your head.
“I think it'd be best if you gave us some space actually.”
Terry looks at you, eyes going big and glossy but all you do is adjust your daughter in your arms.
“Get out, Terry.”
“Y/n please—”
“I said what I said, Terry. You knew it was inappropriate and yet you tried it anyway. Me and Cyan will do just fine. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Somewhere standing in between your legs Spaz starts to growl. You glare at Al’s former partner as he holds up his hands.
“Alright, I’m gone. Just look out for yourself, Y/n, you never know what kinds of assholes could be lurking around every corner.”
“Mhm,” you watch him until he’s finally closed your front door and don’t take your eyes off until his car pulls away.
As if you didn’t fucking know how dangerous it was for a single woman with a child, let alone a black one. Y’all would do fine though, you’d do your damndest to make sure of it.
Cyan shocks you out of your thoughts as her little hand starts to play with the pendant around your neck. You think of the matching pendant you buried Al in and give her a small smile.
“Hi Mama, you hungry?” At her seemingly answering coo you laugh and make your way to the kitchen. “Let’s go make you a baba then.”
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!
Yes, I know how unfortunate the dog’s name is. I also know the reader inserts for Spawn are nonexistent basically but I wrote this anyway so…who cares.
I was just watching the movie again and had some ideas (it baffles me every time that Al’s wife got with that white man, it really does) and low fandom engagement hasn’t stopped me before.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
Chapter 1 includes the gross clown demon Violator. I hate him so much. So I had him fuck with the reader and their best friend who is a OC. Its Spawn x Reader just to let ya’ll know. Expect there to be Spawn smutty goodness in later chapters. Once again, below the cut.
"Leslie! Come on let's go!" You yelled.
"Come--coming Y/N." He shuffled over to your side.
"Stay close. We aren't out yet. We need to find Spawn okay." You told Leslie while holding his hand.
It's been about 5 years since we all went into Hell. You've grown so much and so has Leslie too. But right now, you both are hiding. From what? From a demon disguised as a clown. Stealth is key. There are some fucked up things here.
Both of you have no clue where anyone is. So....both of you are kind of lost.
"Y/N..." Leslie whimpered
You look over at Leslie and see a creature. He was glowing and on his hands and feet...but backwards. You grabbed Leslie close and covered his mouth. He moaned slightly from surprise.
"Shhhhhh!" You whispered in his ear.
You looked around for something, anything. It was so dark except for the light glow the creature was giving off. If only light head was here for you to be able to see. You started to feel around for something and your hand stumbled upon a bottle. You grabbed it and threw it as hard as you could. The creature was quick and followed the sound of the bottle as it smashed against a wall.
"*Sigh* Thank the heavens." You said softly, letting Leslie go.
Leslie...My sweet Leslie. He started calling you Y/N, 3 years ago after the incident. We drove off thinking everything was going to be ok. We were wrong. It was all a game....Damn it Malebolgia is fucking with all of us.
You turn around to see, well what you can at least. Right behind me, face to face was Violator. You gasp. Leslie looked over and pushed the clown away. You never seen him so brave.
“Leave her alone!” Leslie yelled. You looked at Leslie and grabbed him again.
“Leslie, no. They will hear you.” You whispered.
“What do you want Clown?” You asked
“You.” He said simply.
You looked at the demon coldly. Your heart beating erratically. Your hands made into a fist, ready to hit him. You don't want to play these games any longer than you have.
"What do you want with me?" you asked for the 100th time it seems like.
He just smirked and said with a chuckle, "You already know the answer to this question."
"You will NOT lay a hand one Les...." right as you was about to finish your sentence Leslie grabbed me by my neck and was choking. His voice when he spoke was of Violator's and his own.
"You will be mine. Do I make myself clear?" The clown said through Leslie.
You looked at Leslie with surprised eyes. The fact that he had a very good grip on your neck to the point of passing out was one thing, but to hear him say those things was a surprise to you. It was getting a bit dark now. He still had a grip on your neck. Your sweet Leslie.....No....your enemy Violator had control of your sweet Leslie.
"Les-lie.....I love....yo....you...." Then everything went black.
