#dashverse

"*Lord love this man and the sheer depths of his charming incognizance...*" Artair gets a decidedly pointed glance but also a tender pat on the face. "*I keep asking myself how you are even real...*"

It would have seemed that sleeping off a migraine would have been the right choice in the matter but last night could barely be called sleeping now could it?

Nightmares, possibly the worst and most graphic he'd experienced yet had assaulted his mind the second he would let his eyes close. If he'd slept at all it was from pure exhaustion and he'd barely have a second of respite before the horror in his brain would start once more. It had done him so badly that he'd been back and forth in the bathroom, being violently ill from it all.

Now with morning touching the edges of the curtains, he was laying there curled tightly among the pillows and tangled sheets and blankets. Staring at the nightstand even as his eyes drooped closed, because now on top of everything else, his hands were on fire with pain even though not a mark was on them.

Honestly what the fuck was going on?

His eyes dropped shut finally. Only to open five seconds later, now a sullen yellow.

Mr Fox sat up and pulled himself out of the bed, flexing his hands, a frown on his-Jonas's face. He sighed.

“ FUCK EVER FORWARD, MY FUCKIN’ FUCKTASTIC FUCKOS!  “