IRUn's Creative Writing Spam Storage

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Because I wanna be hip too gaiz!

That and I need a place to put these random ones.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Hey there, cutie. I'm back. How are you feeling?" Shirou asked the small girl lying in the hospital bed as he walked in to her room, a place which had an atmosphere that felt like it was isolated away from the rest of the world.

"Well, you know, it hurts." The white-haired girl sheepishly replied with a meek voice that was undeniably strained and weary.

"I'm sorry about that, Illya." Shirou answered, "Still, I brought something for you that might cheer you up."

Shirou reached into the grocery bag he brought with him and pulled out a single taiyaki, still steaming-warm from being freshly baked.

Illya suddenly bolted upright from her hospital cot with an excited squeal of delight and promptly snatched away the fish-shaped piece of sweet bread right from Shirou's hands. The helpless pastry was then devoured with a terrier-like ferocity, and the only evidence that remained of it's passing were the crumbs all over Illya's face.

"For someone who says she is in pain you sure don't act like it." Shirou chuckled endearingly as he gently wiped her face with a napkin.

Illya grinned weakly at Shirou's words.

"Just now...it was excruciating."

Illya confessed this with such resigned nonchalance. But in spite of dropping this bomb on him, shattering all illusions that they could somehow deny the situation, pretend that it didn't exist for only a handful of moments, she still beamed radiantly. She still smiled happily.

"But I didn't care at all about it. The pain is nothing when you are around."

Shirou felt like he was torn up from the inside-out.

'That's not right. Just because you're used to the pain doesn't make it okay.'

He wanted to say that to her. But he knew he couldn't take her pain away from her. That was yet another burden of hers that he would not be allowed to shoulder, no matter how much he wanted to. There was nothing he could do. He felt helpless.

He felt like a child once more, wandering aimlessly for his life amidst those hellish, burning ruins of a city all the while surrounded by death.

Despite his helpless feelings, he too smiled in response to Illya's confession.

Shirou would do anything to see that smile of hers for as long as possible.

"That's...wonderful." He said, stroking Illya's smooth cheek with the back of his hand. It was indeed truthful and indicative of his feelings, even though that same truth also simultaneously hurt him immensely.

That truth, that he was so very happy that he could take away her pain while at the same time being helpless to do anything about it, both healed and broke his glasslike heart beyond repair.

He stood from his seat at the side of her bed and reached down to gingerly lift the girl into his arms.

"Shirou?...What are you doing?" Illya asked, though she already knew that was unnecessary.

He could feel her heartbeat pump faster and faster the closer he held her to his chest. She was incredibly delicate and small in his muscular arms, and was indisputably lighter than she normally was. It almost felt that if he wasn't careful enough he could accidentally break her.

But...she had proven herself to be made of stronger stuff than she appeared. Back then, and even now.

"Ssh. It's fine, it's just time for you to come home."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Come on Home
An Old Man's Reprieve
Where is Papa?
Original vs. Greatest
Black vs. White
It's Okay if it's Girl-on-Guy
Dream/Introduction
Grudge/Alt


-- Fate/Prototype: Black Knight and Princess --
The Purest of Love Makes Everything Else Dirty Filth
The Anticipated Duel: Beginning of the End
The Anticipated Duel: End of the End *TBA*

-- Fate/Zero: Lost Assassin Chronicles --
Pre-Homecoming
The Best-Laid Plans Take Time to Prepare for
Welcome Home, Assa-chan

-- Fate/Zero: The Adventures of Uryuu and Tamamo-no-Mae --
Arts and Crafts I
Arts and Crafts II
Investigation
Investigation: Aftermath

[The Sylentnight]

DAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Everyone making snippit threads these days!

[ZidanReign]

*snip*

HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG

It hurts my heart.

That was wonderful IRUN.

THE TROLL SEAL OF APPROVAL

[Artee]

Daw IRUn, it's cute :3 Would you write something Ilya/Iri related too?

[Theocrass]

*Snuggles IRUn and Artee*

Very nice, IRUn-chan.

[Aiden]

....

Oh man.

Ilya ;_;

(also YES. THE DRABBLES GROW IN MIGHT)

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Daw IRUn, it's cute :3 Would you write something Ilya/Iri related too?

I'm sure I could come up with something quite easily. It would just need to be written.



In the meantime, here's something a little more risque.

Fine. A lot more risque.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



"Saberrrr...my blood...it's all over your sword again~"

Manaka was clearly not perturbed one bit by her impalement on Excalibur as she purred this at Saber while smiling beatifically at the Servant of the Sword. Her ice-blue eyes glittered, and her petite body quivered with every word she spoke, not from the grievous wound he had dealt her, but from a cacophony of other emotions and sensations welling inside her.

"Do you remember the first time we did this, Saber? I thought it hurt so much the first time..."

Manaka stepped forward, staining the holy sword rammed through her guts with her own crimson blood. Though Saber could have easily knocked away the girl closing in on him at any moment he stood frozen. His instincts screamed at him to get her away, to get her as far away from him as possible, that allowing her to get this close would be utterly fatal.

"M-Manaka?! What are you-?" Saber gasped.

......Yet, something much deeper and far more resounding from within told him not too. Something that would not allow himself to throw away the sword that he ran her through with.

"Back then I thought you had betrayed me. You were my Servant, and I was your Master. 'How could you do such a thing to me, whom you had sworn yourself wholeheartedly to? How can you be so cruel?' That's what I thought at the time..."

One of her delicate hands gripped the mystical iron of the blade's razor edge, cutting into her palm and further staining the sword with blood. Heedless of the injury Manaka repeated the action, each repetition slicing into her hands and pulling her closer and closer to the King of Knights.

"I was wrong, Saber. You weren't the one who had betrayed me. It was the world that had betrayed you. You, who were too good for this sinful earth." She cooed empathetically, "Saber's light was so radiant, and in the end it was extinguished so horribly. Back then it wasn't me you were rejecting - it was happiness. You were rejecting happiness because you believed you could never be allowed to find it, that you were forever cursed to be shackled by your past. When I realized that I cried so much for you. You made me so sad, Saber." Her voice cracked distinctly with Manaka's confession.

When the girl was finally close enough to him, she outstretched her arms to the man she idolized...

...and then she embraced Saber in a hug.

Saber felt completely paralyzed.

"M-Manaka?..." The knight stammered. He sensed latent energies coursing like a torrential ocean from her, threatening to spill out and overwhelm the world at large.

"Saber, I want you to know this: You are allowed to have happiness. It's okay to be happy." Manaka was so close to Saber now. She panted with quite excitement and squeezed the Servant into a tighter hug, as if she never wanted to let him go. "But Saber, since you don't know what it's even like to know such happiness, I know that it's up to me to teach you..."

That was when Saber finally registered the darkness curling around him and up his lower body like slithering tentacles. He ironically realized that now was when he had an excuse for not being able to move when faced with Manaka's presence.

"Saber~"

The tendrils of darkness crept further up.

"My prince~"

He felt the darkness bulge and swell and seep into his body, as if his body were soaking up the corruption and his armor was being devoured by the black magic. Saber finally began to panic, knowing full well that it was futile.

'Ayaka...forgive me...' He thought quietly, not daring to speak his Master's name should Manaka hear him. If she did hear him, then he knew only horrendous, irreversible things would happen. 'I have failed you so terribly.'

"My one...and only, mine and mine alone~"

Manaka leaned in close to Saber and looked him straight in the eyes, glimmering crystal blue to shining emerald green. An overjoyed, twisted smile spread across her lips.

Without a doubt, right now Manaka was the happiest she had ever been.

"That's why I'm not letting you go, Saber. I won't ever let you go until you can live happily again. And then I never will need to let you go."

Saying this, Manaka climatically broke the escalating tension between the two of them. She hungrily pressed her lips to Saber's, stifling any potential cry of protest from the former king. She hiked a leg up to Saber's hip, pressing herself even closer to him, close enough to feel the contours of her light body underneath the pristine sky-blue dress splattered with her own blood that she wore.

"Let us consummate our love, Saber." Manaka whispered huskily at him, her twisted love and lust for him culminating to dangerous heights. "A love purer than anything else in this filthy world."

The shadows washed over him like a baptism of darkness, aiming to blacken his noble soul and force him against his will to places he never would dream of going near. But it was hopeless - Saber had no control over himself anymore now that he was at the mercy of Manaka's boundless affections. He heard the sound of metal clattering to the ground as Excalibur, the mighty Sword of Promised Victory itself, was callously tossed aside like trash.

The next thing Saber knew he was pulled to the cold floor by the tendrils of shadow she controlled.

'The floor is cold? Why would the floor be cold when I-' Saber thought as he allowed himself just a moment of puzzlement.

He felt the soft material of her dress rub against him as Manaka shifted her weight. That was when the truth finally registered to Saber's addled mind...that he no longer wore any sort of clothing that covered anything below the waist, his armor digested into prana by Manaka's shadow magic when it overtook him.


------Saber was lying there on the floor, half-naked, with Manaka straddling him.


"Saber..." Manaka beamed at him, her eyes sparkled, and to top it all off she wore a devious come-hither look on her doll-like face. "This is what happiness is really like~"

The blonde girl kissed him again, somehow even more forcefully and deeply than before. It was as if she were trying to lose herself in the man, trying to consume everything he had. Manaka might have looked like a child, but she kissed with the intentions and ferocity of a hungry adult woman, sneaking her tongue past his agape lips to taste the insides of his defenseless mouth. Saber felt Manaka grind incessantly against his bare waist. Each gyration rubbed his exposed member against her damp crotch, causing fluid to leak and mingle and stir into a white froth that coated his naked, shamelessly growing erection. Saber helplessly groaned from the pleasure that he did not want to feel, and Manaka giggled saccharinely in response.

"Oh Saber~ This isn't anything like what true happiness is yet. Just you wait~"

Manaka wasted no time reaching down and cradling Saber's hardened penis in her soft, dainty hands. He involuntarily twitched in her grip, causing her to laugh again at his reaction with a voice like a devilish angel. Saber was unable to appreciate the warmth of her silky hands for long, because the next moment she angled the wet tip to her own moist slit and thrust down right on top of it.

Without an ounce of fanfare or fuss, Manaka, the small girl who had in eight years past been his Master in the Holy Grail War, had raped him.

Saber cringed as he was taken in deeper by Manaka's vagina. His head was already lost inside her folds, with the rest of the shaft working its way up into her. Droplets of blood welled from the joint where they connected and trickled down Saber's length in bright red rivulets.

He had been raped by a virgin. An aroused, unstable, obsessed, disturbed virgin, but a virgin nonetheless.

For Manaka, that was all part of the charm.

"Aaaah! Saber! You're making me huuuurt!" She let out a high-pitched moan laced more with delight and faux-pain than actual hurt as he slid further up into her, "I feel it sooo much! But isn't it woooorth it to be haaaappy, Saber?"

Gritting his teeth, Saber could only groan pathetically in response.

He was fully enveloped by Manaka's soaked walls, walls that felt like they were crushing the life out of him again and again. It should have been far, far too tight down there for him to fit comfortably, but the walls forced a little wider each time, as if it chiseled away with every pounding she forced upon it to remember the shape of the penis trapped inside the prison of pleasure. Fleshy sounds could be heard as Manaka bounced up and down, inhumanly ignoring the pain that her delicate body should have been experiencing from the size difference between her and the man she had taken. Her single-minded devotion only had eyes for Saber. Pain was a non-existent concept whenever it involved her love for him.

"This is what it feels like, my beloved prince!" Manaka cooed to him with absolute adoration as she continued to ride him. The darkness welling from her surged over Saber's body like a mudbath and seeped further into the Servant at a greater rate. The darkness that was corrupting Saber this whole time had finally reached the point of oversaturation. Something had to finally give, and changes which had been culminating all this time began to manifest.

Or rather, not changes so much as awakenings.

Saber's eyes - once a beautiful green color like the rolling hillsides of his native country - had turned to a sickly golden color that hinted at something intensely feral. His golden hair seemed to bleach itself of all color, and even his smooth, impeccable skin went pale as chalkdust.

There was more to Saber's changes than his altered appearance that was a far cry from his original form as the legendary Arthur, King of the Britons. Something snapped in his mind. Something snapped so hard that it went full-circle and righted itself in a completely different and wrong way than it was before.

And it was all because of Manaka.

Her words, her feelings, her actions; he knew that he initially thought they were horrendously distorted and incurably misguided to dangerous levels, but Saber realized now that he was completely mistaken in his opinion of her. Manaka had wanted nothing but the best for him. Saber knew Manaka was the only one who truly understood him. Manaka Sayjou was the only human being on God's green Earth to truly know King Arthur. She had stumbled upon the crux of his problems and brought it to the light for him to see it in its raw, troublesome glory. She saw what troubled him for what it was and gained a determination some time in the years between then and now to snuff it out once and for all for the sake of his happiness.


......His happiness, and his alone.


She would not be another Guinevere. There would not be another Lancelot. Her loyalty was boundless, and betrayal was truly unthinkable. Even after all those years, even after what he had done to her, her faith in him was unshakable as ever. In fact, it surely must have grown in the time they had spent apart. Manaka had absolutely nothing but love for him and only him.

Saber did not remember the last time he had been so thoroughly moved like this.

With all of his strength, Saber brought up the black steel of his gauntleted hand to gently stroke Manaka's face. He knew it was just a small gesture that had no chance of ever repaying her limitless kindness.


------She appreciated it all the same, trifling gesture or not.


Manaka Sayjou wept with joy.

"S-S-Saber..." She whimpered happily as she touched the cold steel of his gauntlet that caressed her cheek. But it certainly did not feel cold to Manaka. To her, it felt like the most satisfying thing in the entire world that could ever be happened just to her.

"Manaka..." He spoke her name. Not as a Servant, nor as an enemy, but as something much closer than any of that.

"Saber." Manaka whispered, tears of wonder still speckling her eyes. "I love you. I love you so very much. Let us destroy this ugly world. Together. Just the two of us. We don't need it, not when we have each other."

"That is what you want, Manaka?"

"More than anything, Saber. If it is with you, then that is okay."

"I see then." The black knight replied to his lover, "Then if that is your wish..."

Saber ran his fingers through her short, golden-blonde hair to get a better grip and drew her in closely to passionately kiss her with a hunger that rivaled even her own.

That was his answer.

With this Saber had finally come to accept it all, and her lust for him was now no longer a one-sided affair. His kisses were as fierce and as insistent as hers. His tongue invaded her own mouth. He nibbled at her moist, soft lips in his lust for her. He took advantage of her to shamelessly fondled and pinch her bare, pink nipples - nipples which had been exposed to the cool air around when Manaka's wild movements shook her loose-hanging gothic-esque dress enough to slide it off her thin shoulders, back when she had taken Saber right on the floor.

There was yet another thing that was different.

Manaka's and Saber's positions were reversed and Saber had pushed his new Master and lover down to the ground. He leaned over her waifish body, met her sky-blue gaze with his own animalistic gold, lifted her small hips to meet his and thrust as deeply as he could into her tight, slick pussy. The wet schlicking sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the air once again as Saber's thrusts forced himself even deeper into Manaka than her own love-making had.

"Aah! Nyuuh! Haa-aaah! Aaaaah!!" She moaned intensely as Saber's dick plowed in and out of her tight womanhood to the tip of the head and nearly all the way to the base. Saber recklessly buried himself in her all the way to her walls at the back. "Oooh - mffph! Mhmm~!!" He pressed his lips to her again and pounded deeper inside.

In and out. In and out. She was so wet that it took no effort for him to thrust in and out of her over and over and over and over again as he held Manaka down, forcing her erotic, childish body to once again reach orgasm. Saber stood to his knees from his dominating position above her and hoisted Manaka up to his level in a tight hug with his dick still implanted deep inside. He thrust into Manaka's wet, convulsing vagina with abandon, and bit down and sucked and kissed at the nape of her elegant neck.

"Saberrrr~!!" Manaka moaned from the ticklish pleasure stimulating her from her neck, "That's so, that's so- unyaaah! You're so good, Saber!"

"That's right," Saber said, acknowledging Manaka's words as a way to reaffirm his newfound existence . He continued to plow Manaka somehow finding the capability to talk coherently even when his mind should have been numbed from the repeated influxes of pleasure. "That's who I am. I am not King Arthur Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon died a long time ago, serving an ungrateful, hopeless country that would have been totally helpless without his just rule. Arthur Pendragon is only a man with a story. I am Servant Saber. The game of chivalry that I had deluded myself into playing again when I was summoned into this war was utterly fake. That title is something that I do not need anymore. I live in the here and now. I do not need that broken past anymore to live my way..."

"Yeeees~ Because the only thing you do need is meeee. Me and no one else, right Saber? And we'll do it a-a-a-all together, r-right Saber~?"

Saber could spare no words for the moment besides a stout nod accompanied with a tense growl.
After all, that was the first time that he had registered that he had finally come while together with his beloved Manaka.



...even though Manaka had achieved her wish for a reunion with Saber, her and the Fallen King of Knights still had one last nuisance to take care of. Even though the event was in its twilight for this incarnation, the Holy Grail War was still ongoing.

First thing on their agenda: taking care of that lecherous battlemaniac Irishman and the thieving bitch of sister who tried to steal away Manaka's Saber with her lies, deceits and misconceptions who had tried to fix her Saber in the entirely wrong way.

Their loss was all but guaranteed.

[Aiden]

MANAKA HNNNNGH

Fuckin' subscribed, yo.

[Laith]

Ah Yandere~ love <3

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Only Manaka could be a crazy enough bitch who gets off on virginal pain, so long as it's her OJIISAMA who is doing it to her.

[The Sylentnight]

...IRUN... why are you so awesome?

And thanks to Aiden, I am remembering to subscribe!

[Aiden]

The greatest yandere knows no agony save the absence of their subject of devotion.

All lesser pains are but a sacrifice in comparison.

[Laith]

You call it pain. She calls it proof of love~

E: My NRVNQSR Chaos post is about a yandere. Okay with that,

[ZidanReign]

You call it pain. She calls it proof of love~

Wait what

Pain is Love

I love Pain. I have Masochistic tendencys...

...

FUCK I AM A YANDERE CAUSE I WOULD SO STAB PEOPLE FOR MY WAIFU

oh deaR MYBRAIN

[Aiden]

Same thing.

@Hazama: Your love is now pure.

[Artee]

I'm sure I could come up with something quite easily. It would just need to be written.

So, I'm uber psyched to read it <3

[Elf]

. . . That was actually rather hot despite a few nit picky things about wording that is sort of a personal preference of mine.

[Aiden]

Hehehehe.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

He lost himself in the uplifting sensations that the drug gave him.

The man was like this quite often. Every day he would give over to the intoxicating feelings. Whenever he subjected himself to the loss of control he would go in for longer and longer periods of time, lying oh his bed stuffed with the finest downs or sitting at his gilded desk of imported mahogany or on his luxuriously woven rug, gazing at nothing.

At this rate he would surely one day dive into his mind so deeply that he would never awaken. But he could not bring himself to care about that. In this world, and at this age, with everything and everyone he had worked for up to this point practically running autonomously, he realized that his time was over. No matter how much he wanted to think otherwise he knew that he was purposeless. Redundant. There was no longer a use for him here any more.

This was why he slipped away into the world his drug provided, again and again and again and again, with no sense of self-regard.

No amount of justice could be allotted to describe what he saw.

If this place he thought he saw could be described with earthly words, then it would certainly be considered a garden.

He had been here countless times - or so he thought, for the world of the drug was different every time he dived - so he felt a sense of uplifting familiarity. That feeling was, at best, diminished, barely a prick in his heart, for he found it was harder to recreate it as time went on. Repeated exposure to paradise had dulled him. Yet in spite of this he was drawn back again and again, even though it took longer to again experience that same feeling of satisfaction.

Once, he saw harems of lovely virgins attending to his every need amid the psychedelically colored irises and reeds and chrysanthemums and cedar trunks, scooping vases of wine from babbling brooks of the flowing drink. Lush green grass softer than blankets and sweeter than ripe dates grew beneath his feet. Phoenixes and other fantastic birds serenaded the grove with haunting, lovely songs that could not be imitated by human instruments. The sky swirled with colorful clouds like a messy, well-used artist's pallet.

Not now, and not ever again. He had transcended that level, or perhaps had lost the ability to access those visions as a result of a self-imposed mental neurosis.

Now, here in this desolate plane of higher existence like an empty town situated snuggly within the confines of his addled mind he used this elevated state he was enraptured in as a stepping stool, an attempt to elevate himself closer to his God, in an attempt to glean the elusive answers that he had pursued and done so much over his many years of life for.

Yet instead, as if he were being mocked, the only thing he experienced nowadays was a far cry from anything like what he initially wanted.

"Oh, it's you, Old Man. You're back here sooner than expected. I guess you don't have the patience anymore. You couldn't even wait until after breakfast, could you?" The woman with the fiery-red skin grinned cheekily at him, raising her single arm to greet him.

...for instead of communing with God, all Hassan I-Sabbah knew was the company of Shaytan itself.

"You're patronizing me?" He complained as he sat down next to the spirit, his image of himself here back again the years of his prime, for though he relished his experiences and knowledge his aged body made him feel nothing but bitterness for it, "You're the one who is always waiting for me." He fired back.

"That's so quaint of you to treat this place like it actually is a place." The woman, Shaytan, chuckled, "We are actually nowhere, after all."

"Are you going to keep me here with you again?" The man asked as he idly kicked a pebble off the edge of a cliff into the rushing stream below like a bored child.

"You think I'm the one keeping you here?"

"I know of no one else, devil. When you showed up everyone else who used to reside here vanished in the face of your presence."

"And when did I first show up?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I do not remember. I just know it was your fault."

"Was it really? Why are you acting as if I haven't been here all along, Old Man? Was anyone even here in the first place?"

Again, he shrugged dismissively. He had no comeback for what the woman with the single, bandaged arm in the obscenely risque clothes said. Maybe it was true. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it simply didn't matter. Either way, the fact remained that he was here, and so was he.

"Why bother getting hung up about me anyway? It's not like this will get you anywhere near enlightenment anyway. There is nothing up there, down here, or anywhere. Why don't you just take it easy, stay right here, and enjoy my company...?" The woman outstretched her smoky, batlike wings in a manner more befitting of a sleepy cat than anything else, an image that was further supported by the wily smirk on her blood-hued lips. "...just like you always do?"

His eyes narrowed, not because of what she said but because of the undeniable truth in her words.

Yes, it was true. Since he could not bring himself to Allah then he settled for the company of Shaytan. The scholar-assassin knew that this flew in the face of his foundations, for if not for God then he would not be where he was today. But in the end, company was company, and one way or another he could have - at the very least - an interesting, oftentimes eye-opening conversation. In the end, it was appropriate for a sinner to converse with sin.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "...I suppose I'll have to make do with you."

"Excellent." She replied with a dangerously elegant satisfaction. For whatever twisted reason his mind had the illusion (Was it really, though? It was so hard to tell what existed and did not exist in this non-reality that was more real than the real world) take his head in her hand and compel him to lie down on the bare skin of her lap. "You always enjoy this, do you not?"

"If you talk again..." He warned the devil.

"You'll take my other arm?" The woman cut him off mischievously as she ran her fingers through his hair, "Or maybe a leg this time? Perhaps an eyeball? Or would you rather have my mouth instead...?" Shaytan drew closer as she continued to talk and he could see her tongue flick gracefully in her mouth with every word she spoke.

"I know that it's such a foreign concept to you, since you make your way by weaving words at the mercy of inept mortals, but would you please shut up?" He dully intoned, unimpressed.

"Oh? And for how long?" She replied, not bothered by his attitude in the least.

"As long as this moment lasts," He answered. "I don't wish to talk of anything this time."

"Really? Nothing at all?"

"Not a single word of discourse." He confirmed, "Nothing about good and evil and the greater good and inherent right and inherent wrong and the state of life and the way to live and how many times a man needs to pray each day. Nothing like that at all. For once, I want to enjoy Paradise for Paradise's sake like I used to."

An eyebrow was raised. " 'As long as this moment lasts?' "

Even though he scowled in annoyance he peacefully closed his eyes. His breathing relaxed and his body lost any tension it might have been experiencing.

"As long as this moment lasts." He answered quietly.


.........The moment lasted for a long time.




As always, he awoke.

It had taken a little longer than usual to awaken from the hash's purgatory, but as always he awoke.

In that helpless, drugged state he had accomplished nothing. His consciousness influenced by the drug had turned up nothing. He had nothing to show for the time he had spent lying there on the floor blankly staring at nothing real while envisioning he was whisked away to a wonderful non-existent place to commune with the last person that he wanted to see.

But what he did have was satisfaction. And satisfaction, even false satisfaction taken from a denial of the world, was still a form of satisfaction nonetheless.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


...I dunno what the point of this was, man.

...whatever. Wanted to write something about Hassan in his later years, but I feel like I might have missed something somehow.

Eh, whatever. Drugs are bad, m'kay? Don't let hot devil women tell you otherwise.

[Aiden]

...

That was deep, man.

Hassan deep.