Phighting stuff, idk, lol

Nightmares

comfort subkit Subspace angst mix.
Also before I start writing this, I made an Illumina playlist and please send help it's an actual bop.
I'm supposed to hate Illumina but I literally can't- HES- AUFHDNNGSTNSNTSTNS

Also Subspace POV is genuinely required in this one, so uh- yeah :p

GoreWarning  CharacterDeathWarning  AgnosiophobiaWarning(?) 

+Subspace+ (wow no way)
Phights were more stressful than usual. Most the time they were fun because he could poison everyone.
But not these ones.
Well, actually, yes he could still poison everyone. But that wasn't why they were stressful.
Scythe.
The serial killer had been taunting him and threatening him, doesn't matter which team he was on.
If he was on the team opposite from her, he would get targeted and hunted, didnt matter who Scythe's actual target was.
If he was on her team, she'd find a way to get him killed.
Or, in between Phights, in the intermission lobby, it would be small little jabs at his ego, or just more threats. Mocking him.
Calling him weak, threatening to kill him, threatening to gut him.
It was terrifying in a way because he knew Scythe wasn't joking. They weren't empty threats, they had meaning, they had purpose.
It might of affected his performance in Phights a little, because he was definitely messing up more than he usually did.
Eventually, when he had gotten an ungodly amount of deaths, he decided that maybe he should stop for the day. Head home to his Faction, possibly finish the gods forsaken spreadsheets he had been putting off.
Or he could just visit Medkit.
Although he'd really rather not sneak into Lost Temple. The Faction scared him a little. Specifically the cult.
Nevertheless, as he got Zuka to take him back to Crossroads, he found himself texting the doctor, asking if he was available.
He was.
Which was nice. And, apparently the gods were looking out for him, because Medkit was at his home in Crossroads, having found a way to get away from 'the Family' - as he had called it -for awhile.
And he didn't even have to go back to his Faction! He wasn't in the mood to walk, anyways. (Sorry if my spelling sucks rn, I just read an entire fic and now I can't spell. Also I have to re read this whole fricking draft because I comeoekteky forgot what plans I had thought out for it)
(Time skip)
"Hellooooo!!!!! The great Subspace has arrived!!" Subspace shouts as he steps into Medkit's house. Attempting a cheerful demeanour.
He sees Medkit jolt, then break into a coughing fit, having choked mid-sip of his coffee, whipping around to stare at Subspace.
"The door was locked. And you don't have a key— how on Inpherno did you get in-?"
Subspace grins beneath his mask. "You don't grow up in a glorious Faction making robots without learning a trick or two!"
Medkit sighs, glaring down at his now-stained dress shirt. "You made me spill my coffee."
"Oh well! Not my fault your sleep schedule sucks and you need caffeine to stay awake!"
Medkot shifts his glare to Subspace. "I'm going to chance. Don't do anything stupid."
Subspace nods. Sitting down. On the floor. Because he's Subspace. (THE JOKES BACK >:D)
Eventually Medkit returns, having changed into another identical dress shirt.

+Medkit+ (solely so I can write a bit)
He sighs. Subspace, of course, instead of sitting in a normal spot, was on the floor. It was on brand for him, though. He wouldn't deny it.
Medkit's eye narrows slightly. The scientist wasn't fidgeting and had genuinely stayed true to his word. "Alright. What's going on?" He huffs, walking over.
Subspace just looks up at him, claws sinking into the floor slightly.
"Nothing! I'm fine! Why?"
"Your tense." Medkit says flatly.
Subspace, probably favouring his ego, scoffs. "I am not!!"
He blinks, unamused, but giving up, he didn't have the energy to argue with Subspace right now. It was rare when he did, actually. "Are you staying over?"
"—can I-?"
"Why do you think I asked?"
"Yay!" Subspace chirps.
Medkit stills as Subspace hugs him. He'd done it before. But it still felt off, despite the fact the two had been dating for months now.
The brief memory of Subspace pinning him to the wall, claws pressing firmly into his eye socket flickers back to mind. He pushes it aside, that was the past, they had talked it out, it was the poison.
(Time skip. WHO KNOWS. MAYBE THIS ANGST WONT BE 2000 WORDS LIKE FOR SOME REASON ALL OF TH—)