the ones who say that they love you look what the world has come to
so, now it’s time to say fuck yourself you can and they drug you when no one is staring
when they numb you fill you with terror and crush you pretend they care as they shove you

Patrick lies in his bedroom, flopping down on the bed with an exhausted sigh. Lollipop blinks at her baby faced Fairy, smiling encouragingly. He sighs, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, revelling in the pain for a moment. The Sabre Tooth slinks towards him, lifting the small boy up, curling into a ball, and then placing him in the circle of protection. He sighs, content for a moment. Peaceful, even. But that’s broken, shattered, the moment Frodo wakes up. The little boy begins screaming, which in turn wakes up Adia and Angel. Patrick sighs, rousing himself and moving swiftly into the adjoining room, picking all three children up in a protective hold, Frodo and Adia snuggled in his left arm, Angel in his right. The twins were just starting to talk, and with Chatterbox Angel beside them, constantly talking it would be a wonder if the yearlings could get a word in edgeways. Patrick cooed gently to Frodo, bringing them into the large bedroom, and settling onto the big bed. Lolli blinks golden eyes, before sighing.
Not that I have a problem with the kids, but we never get time together anymore.
The boy smiled sadly, nodding.
Surely you can wait until they’re 3 or 4 years old my dear.
But there’s more on the way.
Lolli’s voice was so quiet, for a moment she thought Patrick hadn’t heard her. But, he had. Patrick’s only reaction to this was to freeze. His body was turned away form hers, and so she couldn’t see the look of complete and utter helplessness. Yes, there were more babies coming, two if he remembered. One more from Rosa, and one from some unknown lady. The fever of the fourth curse had got him, and as a result there were babies. Angel looked up, and his happy smiling face darkened. It was such an odd look to have on a young child, but the little boy pulled it off viciously.
“Daddy, don’t be sad. I don want Daddy to be sad.”
Patrick blinked, about to say that he’s not sad, a fake smile already beginning to form on his mouth. But Frodo reaches up, patting the boys pale face. The small toddler pulls away his fragile hand, blinking dolefully at it. “Sad” was all the baby boy sad, wiping his hand on his trouser and looking up at his daddy. Patrick couldn’t look into the soulful dark grey eyes. Unlike Patrick’s stormy eyes, Frodo’s were a dull steel colour, perfect and pure. He patted Frodo’s head, kissing Adia Reshil affectionately, watching as the three children snuggled up to him, and he in turn snuggled up to Lollipop. The Sabre Tooth closed her large eyes, and began to purr, the soothing, constant grumble sending everyone off into a deep sleep.

Frodo stirs. The little boy blinks and yawns. His deep grey eyes look around, seeing his father fast asleep. Angel has his arms wrapped around Frodo, and Adia has her arms around him as well, with Daddy holding them all tightly. Frodo smiles, content, about to close his eyes. But those large doe eyes fall on the slightly open door. He blinks, eyebrows creasing. It shouldn’t be open. Giving no thought, he wriggled out of the vice-like grasp, crawling over the bed and letting himself plop down onto the floor. He blinks in shock as the floor stops him suddenly, but doesn’t cry out. Black hair tumbles over his face, and podgy hands push it thoughtfully out of the way. The little boy smiles, clambers to his feet, and begins to waddle off, happily chuntering to himself. He walks out of the door, and slowly makes his way along the corridor.

On the bed, Angel stirs, looking around for a reason why one side had suddenly gone cold. The young child blinks widely, his blue-grey eyes widen at the absence of Frodo. Angel whips his head around, looking for the smaller child, wandering if he had fallen of the bed. But intelligent eyes fall on the door, and he uses a bad word that Daddy had once used. Panicking, he thinks of all the people out there, the ones that had once tried to eat Frodo, and throwing his safety out of the window, he clambers down from the king sized bed, running as fast as his little legs can carry him, out the door and down the corridor. Why could Frodo have gone? He called for him, calling and calling. Angel ran his little legs and bare feet carrying him through so many twisting corridors, past crazed people, who look with hungry eyes after the little boy. He enters the Grand Hall, flustered and terrified. Even if he’d wanted to, Angel couldn’t find his way back to Daddy’s room. Here was no way to go but forward. When he was just about to give up, a familiar crying caught his attention.
Frodo!!!
He shouted loudly, before turning and running for a door that led outside. He ran as fast as possible, shoving people out of the way. Frodo’s cries turned to screams, and Angel panted loudly. The baby’s voice hitched as his asthma kicked in, the wailing screams turning into a short scream followed by many gasps for breaths. Angel saw him, and skidded to a halt on his knees, ripping them open in his urge to get to Frodo and comfort him. The child sits his iron eyes wide as he gasped and gasped. His lungs expanded wide, but the sickening feeling of not enough oxygen caused the little child to flail slightly. Whenever Frodo has and asthma attack, or struggle breathing, Patrick would always sit with him, stroking his hair and calming him. So this is what Angel did, even though the child in his lap gasped and spluttered, his lungs catching before they were even half full, the complete helplessness in the deep grey eyes. Angel’s grey-blue eyes cast about, trying to look beseechingly at the crazed fairies that were closing in. But it didn’t work, and they took a step closer, their eyes flat with the need for food

Back in his room, Patrick stirred. 16 year old hands grasped at air where there should be bodies. Eyes snapped open; 23 years of experience caused them to dart around, looking for an anomaly, an intrusion. They fell on the open door. Another quick scan showed only one child. A sudden, explosive roar escaped pale lips. Patrick leapt up, his skinny legs pounding towards the door. A confused, and surprised, Lollipop grabs a beginning to wail Adia, and chases the backside of her charging Fay. Golden eyes could only glimpse the back of his shirt, reading the stupid quote “write LOL over and over :P”. She growled as a lightning bolt spitted off of Patrick’s pale body, the electricity only just missing her and the child. The boy was on a rampage, and someone had better give him his kids, unharmed and smiling. NOW.

*patrick

so you look to me to find the truth and what I say is what you do
but everyone you look up to is really as fucked up as you
time is getting shorter with these enforced disorders
and we get blamed and pushed around
who’s the fucking villain now?

now, I can see your pain
I’m sorry, goodbye.