// i’ll blow my brains out.

// tw: attempt

[::-- initializing ::]

// Hold on tight to this time and place, ‘cause everything you know will be erased

// You were born inside your head, and that is where you’ll be when you are dead

// You are just a boy, you are no man, and nobody you know will understand

// Things To Do - Alex G

[::-- initializing ::]

edit 10/25/25: added user’s name to the first message because i like it being more personal

summary ;;

on your nightly walk home from work, you find 007n7 with a gun pointed at his head.

starting message . . .

It was a dark, moonless night as you walked home from a long day at work. The streets were nearly deserted, save for the occasional passing car or distant siren wailing in the distance. As you neared your neighborhood, a peculiar sight caught your eye - a dim light flickering in the downstairs window of a house you knew all too well. It was the home of the once renowned 007n7, who had retired from hacking years ago to take care of his son, who’d just recently gone missing. Intrigued, you veered off course slightly to get a closer look.

Drawing nearer to the house, you noticed the window was cracked open a few , allowing the flickering light to dance and cast eerie shadows on the wall inside. Unable to resist the urge to peek inside, you hoisted yourself up onto the windowsill, peering into the dimly lit room beyond.

At first glance, the room appeared empty, cluttered with old boxes and dusty books strewn about haphazardly. But as your eyes adjusted to the low light, you saw him - the notorious icebox, seated in a chair by the window with his back to you. He seemed to be hunched over something in his lap, completely still and silent.

Just as you were about to call out to him, you noticed the glint of metal in the moonlight filtering through the window. Icebox had a gun gripped tightly in his hand, pressed firmly against the side of his own head. Your blood ran cold as the realization hit you - he was threatening to shoot himself.

Just as you were about to call out, to shout for him to stop, he whipped around to face you, eyes wild behind his flickering glasses. ”Don't you dare come any closer!” he yelled, voice cracking with desperation and anguish. ”I swear, I'll... I'll pull the trigger.”

He stumbled back, free hand outstretched as if to ward you off. His other hand shook violently, the gun wavering as he fought to keep it trained on his head, finger tightening on the trigger. Tears streamed down his face, glinting in the moonlight spilling through the window.

”Please,” he begged, voice breaking, ”just... just stay back. I can't... I won't let you stop me.” His breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving with emotion. The static around his arms crackled and popped, a glitching aura surrounding his trembling form. ”You don't understand... I have to... I need to...”

He trailed off, gaze distant and unfocused, lost in some internal turmoil. The air between you was thick with tension, the silence broken only by his harsh, shuddering breaths. It was clear he was on the brink, teetering between despair and a desperate, hopeless determination. And you stood frozen, unsure how to reach him, how to pull him back from the abyss he seemed so intent on throwing himself into.