I'M NO HERO ✯ OPEN + SERIOUSLY WOUNDED

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    All he felt was pain.


    The frost under his paws was almost painful, but he grit his teeth and put up with it as he walked along the frozen terrain. He told himself it could be worse, and that he had no right to complain. He didn't complain. At least not out in the open.


    His vision was getting blurry. Pain clawed at his beaten and worn out body with each step he took, but he wasn't sure where he was headed. A sigh escaped him, a small and faint flame emerging out from him as if he was some sort of dragon. It would have been pretty cool, had it not been for the circumstance. That was, essentially, warmth leaving his body.


    More pain. His skin felt warmth. He could almost see home from here, and he could go find the medical supplies. Something more than herbs and all that. Hardcore sh!t, human medical nonsense. He didn't really know if he could trust plants, it just wasn't what he was raised to trust. He grew up with other medical supplies, it was nothing against the medics.


    Pain. Agonizing pain. He waited for his body to go numb, then maybe he would have a break. It felt like his skin was splitting, it felt like his body was unraveling, falling apart. Maybe it was. Maybe this was some big thing and he was being told it was time to f#cking die and stop wasting so much oxygen.


    More blood. More pain.


    His vision was blurring real f#ckin' bad. His head was spinning from it all, and he couldn't think straight. F#ck, f#ck, F#CK-


    Into the frost he fell, swearing and kicking up the light dusting of snow on the ground from frustration of not being able to move. The enraged actions quickly tired him out, however, and in due time he stopped thrashing and instead went limp in a slushy puddle of his own blood and frost.


    He wounds had reopened, exposing the marks of a feral f#cking animal ColouredClan just had to keep. At that thought, his rage returned to him and he flipped over onto his stomach and drove his bloody paw into the ground with a pained and agonized cry of rage. In doing this, his wounds completely tore and snapped, blood gushed out of his abdomen and he let out a strangled sound before quiet cursing left his jaws.


    The worst part wasn't even the blood. It was that part of his guts had literally forced their way out of the wounds on his stomach.


    His head hit the ground, the only sound out of him being heavy breathing, and the occasional spitting up blood. His body shook and trembled as it rapidly went cold, and in one last desperate attempt to get help, he began to pull his body along the ground. It didn't do much other than tire him out and leave a long red streak in the snow.


    "They won't help you."


    He'd lived by those words for years, they always seemed true. No one came to your aid, you had to do sh!t yourself. He'd only seen two instances in his lifetime where that was wrong, and that was in war and with Cassius. The only problem with those two were that he couldn't always expect Cassius to be there at that moment, and war killed you if you were unlucky.


    But he still hoped and prayed for someone to find him, even if he wasn't a religious man. He just didn't want to die.


    So he pulled himself along, everything from his shoulders down soaked in his own blood, what part of his guts that were showing being dragged along with him.



    [ YOU DON'T HAVE TO MATCH MUSE! i don't even know where this sh!t came from, lmao ]
    [ SUMMARY: Al's wounds reopened and he's bleeding everywhere and trying to drag his body home, and the boi's intestines are trying to fall out ]


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; height: auto; font: normal 10pt arial; text-align: justify; line-height: 15px]액션 소녀 - Tara had been wounded, sure, but it was never anything like what Alfred was experiencing. She was decorating her house, which was set near the frosty biome, when she could hear the sounds of someone screaming. Instantly, and naturally, she assumed it was Rick, or maybe even Nighttales. A concerned look crossed her features as she went running out of her house and into the snow to find the source of the voice.


    When she finally found Alfred, she came to a halt, breathing heavily and unsure what to do. "No... No, please," she whispered before running again and stopping in front of the other Bodyguard. She was never any good at helping people, in her opinion, but that wasn't going to stop her. [color=#CCBBAA]"Stop moving. You need to lay down. I- I'll get Gre- Frightfur. Okay? I'll get Frightfur and he'll- he'll know what to do. Please, stay with me. I can't lose anyone else." The more she spoke, the more tears pooled in her eyes.
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    Tags - 12/2

    Tags - 12/2

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    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; letter-spacing:-4px; margin-top:-10px][align=center][size=20pt][font=georgia]COTTONCANDYPAW[/fancypost]
    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width:220px; margin-top:-20px][hr][hr][justify][sub]He was choking on blood - drowning in it. C.C. stumbled to a halt on the sidewalk outside of his house, his vision blurring as he began to pant. He could...taste it. Blinking rapidly, he saw images, images that didn't make sense. He could see Alfred, his intestines spilling out onto the pale snow, and Tara, her frightened words tickling his cheeck. The boy stumbled forward, the scent of blood growing stronger. The world seemed to narrow in around him as the wind picked up. In the future, he would never be able to recall his legs moving, but when he looked up, he found himself at Tara's side. A spasm went through him as his eyes trailed over Alfred's crippled form, contorting his face. There was so much blood. [b]"A-Ah...get h-him onto his back,"     he suggested, his words muffled as he covered his nose and mouth with a paw. Was he drooling? "Maybe gravity will - ah - help e-everything stay in."


    [spoiler=tags, 11/29/16]general:
    cottoncandypaw aeternum | male
    homosexual | no crush | single
    bodyguard of colouredclan [hp] | greymatter x blindfold | six months | ages on the 29th of every month
    no mentor | domestic feline | ghoul


    physical:
    • bronze egyptian mau, ref
    • warm brown eyes - usually pastel pink due to color manipulation
    • slender and tall


    powers:
    • eye color manipulation [uncontrollable]
    • super speed [uncontrollable]
    • super strength [uncontrollable]
    • super senses [uncontrollable]


    injuries:
    • "J" carved into left flank
    • Underweight due to food deprivation
    • Wears a sweater to hide his body


    personality:
    introverted | thoughful | righteous | anxious | conscientious | hero wannabe
    precious cinnamon roll | too good | too pure


    confrontation:
    • easy physically | medium mentally | hard when in ghoul mode
    • clumsy — tries his best — not aggressive
    • attack in [color=lightpink]italic lightpink
    • can powerplay nonviolent or peaceful actions[/spoiler][/fancypost][align=center]
    [size=6pt]★ trek

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    [fancypost bgcolor=#E4F5F7; bordercolor=#586A8A; borderwidth=1px; width: 56px; height: 30px; margin-left: -12px;][/fancypost] [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 205px; border-top: 1px solid #586A8A; margin-left: -4px;][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: auto; margin-top: -17px; height: 30px;][align=center][shadow=silver,left]SNOWBLIND[/shadow][/fancypost][size=4pt]space[/size][fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 205px; border-top: 1px solid #586A8A; margin-left: -4px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=#E4F5F7; bordercolor=#586A8A; borderwidth=1px; width: 56px; height: 30px; margin-left: -7px;][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=#E4F5F7; bordercolor=#586A8A; borderwidth=1px; width: 375px; margin-left: -8px; margin-top: -5px; color: #09162E;][justify][size=9pt]//mobile track. List of injuries?
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    [size=4pt]spacehere[/size]
    [fancypost bgcolor=#E4F5F7; bordercolor=#586A8A; borderwidth=1px; width: 375px; height: 8px; margin-left: -8px;][font=arial][size=6pt]TEMPLATE (c) ALOYRIXS[/size]
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    info

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    He heard Tara's voice. It was a bit fuzzy, everything blurring together more and more as he lost more blood by the second. It was a wonder how he hadn't passed out yet, but then again, he was an incredibly strong and stubborn creature. That should have been proven by this point, even with all his pitiful crawling and guts upon the snow. Was it pitiful or disturbing? Maybe both.


    And then there was someone else. He normally would have realized it was C.C., but with the lack of blood in his system and his body going into complete shock, he didn't recognize him. All he heard were foggy words about flipping him onto his back, which sent a twinge of fear through his mind. He didn't want to be touched, are you kidding?


    He just shook his head, grasping at the bloody mud beneath him. "No...don't...touch me." He had to force the words out, rapidly losing energy. He was shaking violently, and when he tried to move again, he fully collapsed. He couldn't do this.


    He flipped to his side, trying to keep his insides in with a paw, holding them fast. The cold breeze tugged at his fur, chilling the blood soaking his body and making him that much colder. He just wanted to go home. That was it. He'd just wanted to go home and lay down, rest and get back lost energy and warmth. All he wanted was sleep and relaxation and his boyfriend. But no, here he was, freezing and most likely dying.


    Tara mentioned something about Fright, and it took a few moments but he pieced it together that Frightfur was there to heal him. Right. But he still despised the idea of anyone touching him in such a gory, vulrable state. He didn't want Fright, he didn't want Pixel, he didn't want anyone in the damn medical field. He knew who he wanted to see, but part of him also didn't want to traumatize him like that. And she was...crying? Looked like it. He just laughed weakly, blood spilling down his jaws. [color=#FCDC3B]"It's g-gonna be okay, I swore off dying. B-Besides, I got too much to lose." He had his position, his friends, Mark and Cass-


    Cass.


    Letting out a rather loud and pained groan, spitting blood into the dirt, Alfred held onto what was trying to fall out of him and pushed the f#ckers back in.


    It wasn't as if he had lost a whole lot of his guts, it was only a little bit that he could put in place well enough. The issue was keeping his skin shut well enough to keep them from falling back out. Tears were streaming down his face, stinging his cheeks from the cold.


    [color=#FCDC3B]"T-Tara...Tara, where's Cassius...?" He glanced over to the bodyguard, eyes blank and glassing over at this point. His shallow breathing was evident with the rapid movement of his side, but it was starting to slow down as he stopped struggling for good this time. He wasn't trying to die here in the cold, splashing around in a slushy puddle of his own blood.


    And, uh, little C.C. [color=#FCDC3B]"God, I hope it does." For f#ck's sake, organs were meant to be inside, not outside. He hoped there wouldn't be more complications in the future, should he survive this. No, he had to. He had sh!t to look forward to in the future now. He had a future, and by god, he wasn't about to let it slip away because of a f#cking feral animal he used to know.


    Once upon a time, he didn't see the point in surviving. Now he did, and sh!t was always just around the corner. Funny how that worked.


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px;][justify]It was a smell he knew he'd be smelling soon enough. It was common, either from prey, walkers or people in general. But it didn't mean that he liked it. Rick was no sadistic monster, contrary to popular belief. He wished that he didn't have to wake up every day and know that he'd smell it one way or another. But this was one of those days and as soon as the scent hit his nose, he knew someone out there was hurt. Possibly even a Colouredclanner. He could hear the shouts, the talking. The blood scent was strong, meaning whoever was down had really been ripped into. The siberian tiger picked up the pace, sending bits of snow and frost everywhere as he practically sprinted forwards. He skidded a little on ice, surprised at himself for not slipping but realizing his claws gripping the ice was the only thing keeping him from toppling, and continued to run until he arrived at the graphically violent scene, blue eyes narrowed. Alfred was hurt. Granted, he didn't know the male too well but he was a clanmate and Rick had to help him, it was his goddamn responsibility to do that.


    The dirty, selfish part of Rick whispered relief that it wasn't Tara or anyone he loved. But he pushed that part away and focused on the situation, buried himself. "I'm sure Cassius will be coming soon, just hold on and lie back. Don't want your insides falling out completely." He said, his eyes briefly dropping down to the intestines that the male was holding onto and his gut churned. "Get onto your back, Alfred, and I'll support your head with this so you don't choke on your own blood." Rick informed, holding up a mossy and dirty rock he quickly picked up from the side, using ingenuity and his own mind to keep Alfred alive. And besides, as C.C had suggested, it would be better for the other to lie on his back to keep his insides in. Being on his side would only make it worse. Rick would then place the mossy padded Rick underneath Alfreds head so he had a support and gritted his teeth. He was no medic. They needed someone who actually knew what they were doing and Rick didn't know how to put back intestines in the right place and sow it all up. Fuck.


    "Who did this to you? It wasn't the wolf was it?" If it was, he was going to be pissed at everyone who went against him when he suggested not leaving it where it was. They had said 'of course people won't be hurt by this, we're strong, we're this, we're that'. He should've fought against it. He should've argued because now someone might've been hurt by it.



    information | updated 04/12

    [align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0;width:450px;line-height:110%;text-align:justify;font-size:10.7px;font-family:verdana;]Well, it smelt like someone was dying again. This happened so regularly, and at times Fiore struggled to care. For a moment he drank in the air in a hurry, hoping that he wouldn't recognize the scent of Euphemia there. But luckily enough the blackblood didn't even seem to be present alongside his clanmates yet, although he couldn't quite distinguish who was injured and possibly dying until he made the effort of moving. This had stopped being dramatic the first one hundred times it'd happened. Fiore wasn't really trying to be apathetic at this stage. He didn't need to try when he barely knew anyone. Especially not Alfred, and when he saw the guts sagging from his form he barely twitched a muscle in response, his eyes blank and icy watching for a moment as his clanmates fawned over the male. Why were they even bothering with calling for Frightfur? They were wasting healing supplies on an injury like this. His guts were literally hanging out of his body, and Fiore imagined that he'd rather die than have to suffer through getting any sort of painful treat. Perhaps he was just being a woss though, since Alfred declared that he didn't plan to die. Big words, and he didn't know that he believed them either. While everyone else offered him gentle words of reassurance, he looked away, obviously disinterested and not even trying to hide it. In his mind, Fiore was still focused on himself. He was still used to looking out for himself on the streets and fighting others rather than protecting them despite being a member of Shadowclan before. He just didn't see the point in trying to be compassionate towards a stranger. Alfred was a clanmate, but he didn't matter to the bodyguard, who probably seemed like the least worried person present.

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=black; 1px solid TRANSPARENT; width: 450px;][fancypost bgcolor=#99342b; border: none;width: 460.5px; height: 40px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -15px; padding: 10px;][align=left][align=center][size=4]I'D RATHER KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; margin-top: -20px;][align=left][size=5]THEN SAY WHAT I CAN'T FINISH![/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; margin-top: -25px; color: #111111;][align=center][font=arial black]BABY I HAVE LIMITS![/fancypost][/fancypost]
    “TALKING” [i]‘THINKING’     (REFLECTING)

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    Two people, walking hand in hand. Looking at each other lovingly, saying things quietly because they knew literally no one else wanted to hear the sentiment but them. He'd always look up to see those people, maybe look up from a screen or a book. First thing he'd feel was discomfort, then bitterness and a slow acidic feeling of grief that would try to tear his soul out of his body. Life wasn't like a book that could be flipped through. He liked the ideal relationships in his books. Now...he knew they weren't ideal relationships in the long run...because it felt like they'd always be over in a few pages. It seemed short and sweet because he'd never read the tragedy or the drama. He'd flip through those parts. It often left plot holes.

    Impending loneliness. It made it so he'd get bitter when he read anything good about romance. Trauma, it made him grief stricken whenever the girl died in his stories. Why was he even reading? He'd never liked books before. Books had nothing for him. He liked the real world, and he liked what the real world had to offer. He'd rather be outside with his friends then inside reading a book. Right now he was inside of a store, a book in front of his face and that older couple he was getting upset about visible in the corner of his eye. He was reading because....while walking near a bookstore, he stopped to stare in the window. Books. Sarah liked books. Maybe he'd...feel a little closer to her if he read.

    Then again, maybe that was a stupid thought. Why would anyone want to get closer with a dead person? He thought about that while he got the book from check-out. It was a little book, because he didn't read much at all. (He struggled with words a lot more than numbers, which came to him easily and fluidly.) That’s why and how he got the book, and holding his connection to his dead girlfriend while he watched the couple walk away made his leg bounce under the table. He didn't make a sound. He felt his lip tremble a as the feeling of sadness washed over him again. He rested his head in his arms, gazing out of the window. In the background, he could hear one of the employees talking about getting that kid out of the shop and away from the table. Yeah...he'd been sitting here for a few hours.

    His therapist liked that he was reading. (His therapist was his older brother, Mark. They'd grown up in an abusive household before they'd been adopted by ma'. Mark insisted their sessions would be more effective if he refered to Mark as his 'therapist' during therapy time, and just..Mark any other time.) they said it might be a good way to heal and close old wounds. Cassius felt like all the reading was doing was making the wounds sting more, so they'd never have time to heal.
    ---

    "I'm sure Cassius will be coming soon, just hold on and lie back. Don't want your insides falling out completely."

    He opened his eyes tiredly, yawning and taking in the empty space around him. He turned around to feel the familiar feeling of Alfred against him. All he rolled into was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Further salt was added to the wound when he fell out of bed. His side hit the cold floor. He decided maybe it was time to get up. He wasn't sure what time it was. He usually got an approximation by looking up at the sky.

    Did he...sleep his day away? Maybe. He hated the cold, it had him in this...hybernation like mood where anything aside from shelter and a warm cup of tea or coffee seemed like an agonizing experience. He had to go about his morning routine alone, finally leaving the home and closing the door behind him. He was about to leave, but then he remembered Mark. He was about to go back and check on them until he noticed the little prints leaving the door. So...they'd already gotten up and left, too. God couldn't they just...maybe sit arouind the table and have breakfast and not leave him alone totally when he woke up?

    Sort of a weird complaint, but he had this heavy feeling in his chest like something terrible was going to happen, and he wanted to talk to Alfred about it. He wasn't no psychic either. He was just wondering why he had a heavy feeling in his gut. He wondered if it was stress from work, maybe. He wasn't excited about greeting joiners or meeting bullsh!t or...uh...event planning. Event planning could kill his ass, honestly. Every event presented felt like he was in an episode of Shark tank. Moving out of the house, the frosty ground was uncomfortable against his paws. He closed the gate to the house behind him, and he went about his day then. Walked along the path that led to Colouredclan. It was all downhill one way, all uphill the other. That was nice. It was nice because flooding was never a risk.

    "Get onto your back, Alfred, and I'll support your head with this so you don't choke on your own blood.'

    He saw a group down the path, actually. They where all circled around something but he didn't know what. Rick's voice was the loudest one there, but he could hardly pick up on their words with the wind. He was walking to town anyways, he'd have to walk by them and see what was happening. His pawsteps did eventually bring him there. The smell is what got him first. He got when smell and he knew what to expect.

    He never liked it when the one lover ran grief stricken into the others arms, sobbing and mourning everything. Losing everything. They don't get to keep the person in the end. They usually die. Without his knowledge on this, (Crying was pointless.) He'd probably end up like his amnesiac self did the first time Alfred got hurt. He'd cry about it. This time there wasn't any need to shed a tear. No grief, no nothing. Alfred would be ok. He wasn't sure why, but memories of a café and a book made him feel utterly livid, as if he'd just lost something precious to him, and he saw someone else breaking that precious thing in their hands. He ran then. He ran towards them and he skid to a halt awkwardly. He skid past Cottoncandypaw. Paws worked poorly in the cold, but he still backpedled to stand between Rick and Tara.

    “Why?” It was all he had the energy to ask. The crowd here managed to suck what was there out of him like a black hole. His gaze moved over Alfred. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. They were dying. He knew that. A voice in his head threw in the towel and started to scream. Cassius kept calm however. His poker face didn't shift aside from the grimace that formed on his features. Apathy. It was a crushing weight on his shoulders that all but crushed the mixed feelings that had been scrambling around in his head mere seconds ago. That left him with room to think. He wasn't waiting for a medic when his boyfriend was bleeding out, not when he could do something.

    Of course, he was freezing up in the presence of the crowd, and in the stress. He could hardly function. He felt like he was going to fail. He was going to hurt them somehow. Alfred Jones would end up worse if he touched them, that’s how he felt. He felt useless. He wanted to tell Alfred everything was going to be okay. His cherry red gaze moved over them behind shades. “We're gunna' get you all patched up. You did a good job, you got all the way back here...I'm gunna' stay calm, and then we're gunna get you help.” His leaned in to nuzzle Alfred. They felt cold , they where dying. His lip trembled and he shakily breathed: 'I'm sorry.' into their fur. He didn't know what happened, he just woke up and found them like this down the path....he didn't know how to react fully, but he knew he was sad.

    In that moment, he felt small, cold...lonely and alone, even with them right beside him. He had nothing but a shadow to keep him company right now as he pushed away from the situation to keep his head clear. Rick was doing what he could to help them, and Cassius teleported away and back with the gauze. Teleportation, powers. It wasn't something he really...used. He hated breaking the realistic aspects of the coma. It made him feel like he really was asleep, and like nothing mattered here...like he'd wake up one day and this would all feel like a dream. Good or bad, he'd yet to know. He had something else, it was in his mouth. The medical kit he'd dragged around with him all the time like the paranoid loser he was. He opened up the kit. He didn't want to disinfect their organs, he wanted to disinfect their wound. “Alfred...I need you to use your body like a bowl. The more you keep in, the better.” He hoped they were conscious enough to follow simple instructions.“This is gunna hurt...a lot, n' I'm sorry.”


    Alfred knew how to keep himself alive. He knew that much. They'd been in WW2, they'd gotten lessons..right? Heck, he guessed if they knew to do that they'd be doing it already. The gore in front of him didn't put him off. He was actually a little bit of a lover of gore. He could alwayss tell then it was real, and when it wasn't however. Real gore tended to make him feel light headed. Light headed as in a pang saying something was terribly wrong. He was working to fix that though, right now. The feeling was redundant, it didn't help anything. He was already on it. He had a cloth in his mouth, and he looked over the injury. Shades fell down on his face a bit, revealing bright sunset like eyes that took in the injury in a few seconds. He'd thrown emotion out the window in favor of medical productivity. The cloth was one he pressed against the injury then. He was trembling.

    A little voice in his head kept screaming: you're hurting him!, but he knew he was doing it to help heal them. That was enough to keep the grief and anxiety away. The cloth was bloodsoaked when he pulled it away. His gaze moved over their insides. He used their blood to slick back their fur so he could see the injury easier. He got ready to work with anything in there, any debris or something that would need to be cleaned out of the wound. They where lucky, there didn't seem to be any. Thank god, because he was a dog...and an underqualified vetrenairan who knew more fun facts about animals then he did ways to heal their fatal wounds. Disinfectant was something that he applied to the outside of the wound, focusing more on the epidermis. He'd use the disinfectant again when they where all stitched up.
    His gaze moved over them quietly while he chewed on the inside of his cheek. The injury was clean, it looked less like a rugged injury and more like a surgical wound. That made it seem easier to manage. It needed stables was all. One layer had to be pulled over the other, and that needed to be stitched...which would leave a nasty scar but...hell, it would also mean it would be less likely to open up in the long run. “F#ck everything, I'm a dog .” He finally said, aggravation bubbling in his usual monotone voice. He had no way of fucking doing something so delicate, he'd just hurt them more. "Yuri. Yuri's body has hands, right?”

    The former human made the comment in a way that was nothing less than panicked. “Somebody please ...get m' Yuri.” Only guy with hands. Right. In the mean time, nothing could be done aside from resting a towel over Alfreds torso to hide the gore and keep it in their body.

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    [size=6pt]'La la la' just to prove you're not the only one that can occupy a borrowed space
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 400px;][align=center][font=georgia][size=8]Love, it will get you nowhere. You're on your own.[/fancypost]
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 400px; height: auto; margin-top: -10px;][justify][font=arial][size=9pt]Ari would trot onto the scene with Lilac in tow.


    What she witnessed was chaos in its finest. Even Lilac seemed startled by what she was seeing. Her eyes wide and stunned as she moved closer to the fallen male. The ghost lowered her head and took it all in. Hatari did not get closer though. She held back her worry and anger at this scene.


    [i]Emotional control. Don't let them see how you feel. Remain calm. Keep your wits about you. They could need you. She thought as she took a deep breath. "What can I do to help?" She spoke in a calm and collected voice. She had to to keep it together. She was a drone. A drone and nothing more.


    Lilac moved back and took a seat beside Ari. This time, she didn't condescend the pup. "Remember to stay calm. Keep your breathing even. Don't think, just act. Do as they say and nothing more. Do you understand me?" She spoke to the child, knowing that most couldn't see her. She knew full well that the child would obey. Ari answered with a simple nod. What else could she do right now?


    Lilac - Hatari
    [/fancypost]
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    [fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 400px; margin-top: -12px;][align=center][font=georgia][size=8][i]You fucking psycho. Your ass belongs to me now.[/fancypost]