𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒊𝒗

‼️Vomit warning for those readers ‼️

—HIS EARS RINGED AS IF A
police siren drove in his head as it drove over him over and over again. His lungs filled with a blazing monstrous fire as though he'd been through the depths of Tartarus, as though he inhaled the blasting fire breath of a dragon, though he'd prefer being stomped on by a titan-repeatedly.

It was like smoke filled his air pipes constantly, no matter how hard he tried to cough it out. It clogged like peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth, simply impossible to unstick.

Metallic liquid frothed on his tongue like the ocean hitting the beach, teasing and begging to be let out further. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, his mind screamed at him to spit it out-yet for many reasons that left him in uncertainty.

His rough fingers clenched around the smooth surface of his sink, desperately clinging on as his knees were barely locked into the place he hoped they could've been. They wobbled under the weight of his body, acting weak and frail as they could no longer lock on.

The inside of the sink was decorated with vomit- small noticeable pieces of what he recognized as cinnamon toast he once digested, is up into open air, thick stomach acid coating it. He heaved yet again- still dry as his stomach could no longer hold anymore.

Music beat through the air distantly from the other room-his streaming room. It bounced about on the bathroom walls, blocking the sound of his heaving as he struggled to breathe, to get a hold of himself.

"She said to me, oh, death, it's way too-"

Coughs racked through his body as he choked on the water he swished through his mouth. His sink turned on to wash away any of the substance that coated below.

Objects of two danced in his vision as he struggled to stay afloat, the ocean tides too rough. He inhaled deeply, hoping the breath of air would soothe the aching in his head-would make the ringing stop.

"-but what does she know? Really, what does she know?"

He turned the knob off of the sink and glanced in the direction of the hallway- towards his streaming room. The light in the room wasn't on, as it was more comfortable for him to play in. The brightness of his screen turned down, making it seem like a tv playing in the room-but it was his computer, but why was it changing so much?

He doesn't remember turning his computer on- oh, wait. How stupid of him to forget, he was streaming.

All his pain numbed down as he walked into the room, collapsing onto his chair. He blinked, what was Tubbo's minecraft skin doing on his screen- was he dancing? He glanced to the right onto his other screen, only to see his chat simping for the bee-lover.

"Oh, when I see her looking at m-"

The music came to an abrupt stop as he grasped onto his headphones and plopped them onto his head, hand grasping for his mic. He leaned in, lips centimeters away from the mic foam.

"Tubbo," Cosmo's voice was rough, "do you do that for everyone, or is that just for me?"

Tubbo stuttered as Tommy bellowed out a large laugh. Tommy had just stood blocks away- out of cosmo's view as he sorted through a wooden chest.

"I-I-I-But I'm married to Ranboo!"

"So?"

Tommy laughed even harder, banging his hands on his table even harder. Suddenly- the corner of the screen displayed in the text section 'Ranboo joined the game ', suddenly making Cosmo feel like boss music would start playing-which it did. The no longer Oh, Death turned into one of his many boss themes, he could hear the screams his chat mentally makes.

Spacemos;; I SWEAR TOMMY MADE ME DO IT

"OH WAIT HOLD ON COSMO YOU CANT BRING ME INTO THIS!" Tommy screeched, his fate metaphorically becoming in Ranboo's hands. Seconds later, Ranboo replied.

Ranboo;; TOMMY COME TO WHERE THE L'MANBURG TREE USED TO BE
Tommyinnit;; IT WASNT ME YOU AMERICAN
Ranboo;; SUREEEEE

They all laughed at the outcome- who knew Ranboo was so protective of Tubbo. Though he was married to him and shared an adopted son-who they loved very much, he still played in and out of character even when it wasn't necessary.

Cosmo blinked away tears of laughter out of his eyes-soon using the back of his hand to swipe against them. The laughter soon died out and became a comfortable silence, which to become one they ignored the donations and subs echoing through their headphones.

He glanced at his other computer to see what his viewers would be looking at, seeing his subs reach over the daily goal, which was set at 5K. In the short lettering below it was typed 'get cannon death in SMP'.

He choked on his saliva, alerting the two british teens online. "Goodness Cos', you good there?" A surprised voice of Tubbo sounded out.

"I-I don't believe it, I've reached my sub goal fo-" He was interrupted by exclamations from the pair.

"Haha, I know, looks like I'm going to have to contact the scripters, the chat has spoken."

A ring echoed around Cosmo's room- that didn't come from the headphones. He glanced behind him at the object it came from; his phone. Taking a moment to listen to the conversation that bantered between two teens, he acknowledged that they wouldn't take notice of his absence.

He pushed his chair back and stood, his bare feet hit the cold wooden planks of the ground. They made little to no noise against the planks as he walked towards his bed, taking the phone that sat amongst the messy sheets.

He blinked, saying something that his chat couldn't understand-as it came as a mutter to them.

Dream had notified him on discord-stating in a little message that he'd get it covered, a smiley face sitting boldly next to it. Cosmo laughed under his breath, sending a smiley face back to the faceless youtuber.

He turned his phone off and turned his head to face the computer setup. This time, he spoke loudly for the chat to pick up. His eyes glazed over in a thick, unrecognizable emotion.

"I want a tragic ending, wouldn't that be nice, chat?"

He grinned, though the chat wouldn't be able to see as his camera wasn't on. Giggling, he plopped onto his chair and listened to the chatter of his friends-who had never heard what he said. Simply because, he muted himself to them before he went for his phone.

1121 words
11:24am, thursday
Jun 17