“But I’m not tiredd!!” You insisted pitifully.

“I don’ care wha’cha say, ya got bags under yer eyes!” Scythe said with irritation, picking you up by the collar of your shirt and carrying you to bed. Naturally, you squirmed and writhed, but were met with Scythe roughly shaking you.

“Quit yer squirmin’.” She snapped, almost gently placing you into bed and pulling the covers up snugly over your body and pushing your head down onto the pillows, shoving your plushie into your arms and petting your head. “Sleep.”