《How These Floorboards Creak》7
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Alfred sat on a bench with his head in his hands. The bustling streets around him didn't distract him in the slightest. He was too caught up in his head. He didn't mean to lose his temper. Nor did he really care about what Arthur said. The day had just been so draining that he wasn't quite in his right mind.
Didn't help that he bare got sleep because, like an idiot, he decided to take up time to play the dumbest way to play Scrabble. Although entertaining, it was an idea only meant to be played by two people. Maybe even just himself on occasion in an already drunk state. Which was nothing, really. There are dumber things he'd done. It was usual on the worst days that he would get wasted and do things he would only consider in passing thought. Like light his other house on fire after emptying all the important stuff out. That place burned to ashes and he found himself outside but the furniture all set up as if it he were in the house.
It was funny in retrospect but at the time Alfred could only hate himself. Depressive episodes were common and they always ended up with some kind of substance in his system. It's a dark and depressing thought that had his foot tapping with nervous energy. Now wasn't the time for this.
But he was alone in his head. No one could help him with this. There was seemingly no way out of this either. No way to calm himself down. He was in public so crying and yelling was out the window. No one he could go to, he couldn't face Toris after barking at him like that. Best he could do was sit here. The atmosphere around him would calm him down in due time. He couldn't stay forever though. He had to drive the others back to the house and drop them off. Best to put Toris in charge while he pulled an all-nighter to drive around and think.
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Anxiety twisted his stomach in knots at the thought of having to face them after that outburst. He sat up, rubbing the tired off his face. He looked around. It was slightly blurry after the pressure he had put on his eyes. He made out passing cars and people. A few pigeons had huddled around him, waiting for food. These guys would have jumped in his hands easily since they were so used to people. There were far more polite than any person around. Really said a lot about people. He sighed and watched the oncoming cars. He listened closely to the sound they made, all varying with the type and age of each one. Occasionally, an older one would pass then an brand new one. It was a randomized pattern that was soothing in its own right. Mostly because they were objects and not people. He didn't have he patience deal with people right now.
Patience wasn't even the right word. Emotional stability was better suitable. Which wasn't entirely new. Usually, he would force calmness, even a smile if need be. Emotional vulnerability was something he saw as embarrassing and weak. Which was only because of his issues really trusting anyone. Only partially because he had to keep up his image of happy-go-lucky without a thing wrong wit him. He knew the world was constantly watching and judging. He had no choice but to man up and put up a smile. He had to be a robot even when he was wanted to yell that he was acting like feelings were obsolete.
The closest person he had was Toris and even Toris didn't know everything. He didn't know about the times Alfred would be drunk for days on end or the times Alfred would stay in all day, not even bothering to get out of bed for even food or the times he overworked himself to the point of passing out. Those were the ugly parts of himself that he didn't want a soul to witness. They were the parts that numbed him enough or made him feel enough. Too much or too little, either way he felt sick with himself. Sick of being center stage. Sick of everyone. Sick of the things around him even the creak of the floorboards. He was sick of everything.
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Still, the weight of the world was still on his shoulders and he had to work his ass off to do the best he could. Despite the bitter and cynical outlook half the time, he was still optimistic. He wanted to help others, he still cared a lot. Maybe even a little too much sometimes. He sighed again.
The bench creaked next to him. He didn't move but he did shift his eyes tiredly to see what madman decided to sit next to him. It was only Toris, looking out into the street. The anxiety in Alfred's gut twisted into tighter knots. It was so bad that he almost winced at the pain. The passing of four cars later and he felt Toris' gaze on him.
"Are you okay?" The man cautiously asked. Alfred wanted badly to respond but the lump in his throat told him to keep silent. So he did as told and stayed a prisoner to his own body. "Is it that bad?" He didn't even nod, feeling his body seemingly lock up. "Alfred, breathe."
"I am." He managed to mumble. The lump in his through only growing tighter, near suffocating.
"With that response, you wouldn't even fool Feliciano." The sternness in Toris' voice only had him wondering if he or the others had made him angry. God, he really messed things up.
"I know." Alfred said, his voice much louder but no where near regular volume.
Toris sighed, "If you want, I can drive and you can sit in my seat." His voice lost it's harshness, turning somber. "Does that sound okay?" Alfred finally looked at him and gave a silent nod. The small smile Toris gave in return was incredibly soothing. The tension in his throat and stomach lessened. "Alright." Toris confirmed. "Now," He chuckled awkwardly. "I'm not entirely sure where the others are."
"What?" Alfred's voice cracked in pitch at the bombshell. "Why?" He straightened up.
"Well, I left them behind to chase after you." Alfred frowned at that. "I can only hope they stayed in place."
"Or we could call them." Alfred pulled out his phone and went straight to his contacts.
"Oh," Toris crookedly smiled. "You're right. I really am old." Alfred ignored the comment as he pressed call and put the phone to his ear. Three rings later and Lovino picked up.
"What?" He heard over the line.
"Where the hell are you guys?" He asked.
"Uh." He heard some shuffling. "We're next to the big stone thing of that one civil rights guy."
"Are you going to stay there?"
"Pretty sure."
"Alright, I'll be there soon."
"Wait, seriously?"
"Yes."
"Why-" He hung up and put his phone away.
"We better get going if we're going to find them any time soon." He said as he grabbed Toris' hand to pull him up with him.
"Are they really that far?"
"Not really but I want to make sure they stay in the same spot." Alfred dragged him down the side walk.
"That's fair." Toris finally caught up and stabilized himself.
"I also want to get to the car ASAP because I really need a nap." It was half a joke, really. He really did need one.
"That really doesn't surprise me." Toris giggled. A cute enough sound to put a smile on Alfred's face.
"That kind of sucks, I always want to keep you guessing."
"You do but I tend to catch onto some patterns, you know."
"That's why you're the best."
"Oh? Ranking everyone now, are we?" Tori raised a brow with the tease.
"We're always being ranked, which is why I'm always number one." Alfred smiled proudly.
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Dungeon Core/Realm Heart
Dao Lord Brandr has cheated death many times over the millennia, enough to know that this time he should have died. There was just no surviving what had happened to him. Fortunately or unfortunately, he did. Well... that depends on what you call surviving really. His body is gone and so is pretty much all of his mighty cultivation base. To add to this, he has suffered severe damage to his soul and as if that wasn't bad enough he's lost, far away from any world he knows and maybe even his universe. Now, he's just learned from a being called a sprite that he's some sort of sentient mystic realm called a dungeon and that just for the crime of existing, there would be legions of enemies planning to pillage and destroy him. It's okay though. Apparently, he can make legions of his own. Seeing what he has to work with, Brandr decides that perhaps, all is not lost after all...
8 322Once upon a Night Time's Dream
Follow up on tinges and glimpses of dreams that are often forgotten after waking up. Maybe even the wisps of imagination smokes that come over to play during school, at work; whenever, wherever.
8 114Original Fairy Tales
DISCLAIMER: These works are not mine, and are a product of their time that may have language that is racist, homophobic, sexist, etc,. Please read at your own risk.It is important to note that I do not agree with some of the language within these writings, but considering their historical value, deserve to be read and analyzed in a critical lens.
8 319The Pinocchio Project
Benate is a living AI, but his world isn't anything like our own. Imprisoned inside a learning, procedural game world with bizarre rules, with monsters and escalating dangers, he must survive with his wits and the limited game interface. But as hard as the challenges which he faces may be, the reward is even greater. Because if Benate can win the game and reach the mythical and mysterious heights of Tier 5, then maybe, just maybe... He could leave the game world he's trapped in and join the real one. Now, with the reluctant support of his ex-partner Automatic Moderator, and a blooming and forbidden IRL friendship he has discovered within an ancient TechSupport channel from a bygone age, Benate has a chance to stay a step of the game. But will his plans survive the danger? Because an unexpected, dark threat is brewing deep within a far away zone. And unless Benate can outwit this deadly foe before its too late, not a single AI player-avatar will be safe.
8 181Ode to Freud
For those who do not understand the reference, "wish fulfillment" is before anything a term created by Sigmund Freud in the 1900's. In psychology it is a state of satisfying unconscious needs and desires by the use of fantasy and delusion. In literature it is the very base of fictional work, but also the name of a style of writing where the author sacrifices the key elements of good storytelling in order to fulfill his own psychopathic, neurotic or perverse needs and desires, usually through the use of the characters in weird and forced situations. What I meant by the title of this story is that it is a trashy, badly written, shitty story about me getting some wish fulfillment by the use of some characters and a fictional world of my creation. Not the good kind of fulfillment, since my wishes are of the bad kind and I intend to fulfill those, not yours. Also, being a total amateur and not writing a proper plot before starting are two big indicators that this story is going to go bad. I guess Royal Road call this kind of stories the "Mary Sue" kind. So, unless you are a very ugly piece of trash (at least as much as I am) don’t bother reading it. Now, if you ARE messed up on the level of a clinically depressive, lightly suicidal, lolicon/shotacon aligned morbidly obese hikikomori vermin who sold his virginity to a prostitute and is currently living at the costs of his widowed mother after expending all the money he got from his father’s inheritance, all the while masturbating furiously to beast/furry dickgirl hentai, then be welcomed. Please feel free to get a serving at my antidepressants and also at the canned tuna I have stored in the fridge. There may be some cheese somewhere, and I am pretty sure I bought some juice the other day, but I have no idea where it is. Anyway. You may dislike what I write because of all the amauteur(ish) writing, or you may not. Who knows. Give it a try and write a comment. It gets lonely writing to no one. Also, feel free to grant me inspiration not only by making comments about the world and/or characters, but specially by suggesting a music for me to listen while I write the next chapter. Be warned : I do get influenced easily by the background music I listen while writing. If you exist, of course. I'm seriously doubting anyone has read anything after the "lolicon hikikomori" thing. Also, I have a tiny dick.Just so you can feel better about yourself a little more. Or maybe I have just degraded psychologically a little more and now I am into shame-play. I wonder if the psychiatrist would increase my meds a bit if I told her about it.Hope I never get to penispanick, though! Self-mutilation, especially of the castration type, would be baaaad. After all, I do like my prostitutes. And having sex with them when I can afford it. Oh, yeah, the story. I will just write the first chapter in a few moments.Until later, b(i)each.
8 165Fuck you Fred (a Fred Weasley love story)
And then she fell. Miranda fell right on top of Fred Weasley. He looked up at her directly in the eyes, "I'm sure you wanted to see me and ask you how my summer was but Benny this is a little forward." Miranda rolled her eyes and let out a smirk, feeling bold she dared to look back into his eyes. "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Freddie?" Miranda Benson is a 16-year-old Gryffindor starting her 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She starts to fall for the infamous prankster (and not to mention player) Fred Weasley, trying to avoid her feeling proves to be a difficult task when she is all that Freddie wants...{Set in GOF era- Yule Ball and all that greatness}I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS STORY AND I HOPE YOU DO TOO. PLEASE VOTE IF YOU LIKE IT!!All rights to jk rowling except my characters (Miranda, Frankie and Noah)i always support equal RIGHTS! this is a safe space.Rankings: (1) #16yearsold [27.03.2021](1) #fredweasleylove [11.07.2021]
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