inakoma

[inakoma]

You're bleeding out. Your back slumped against the wall. Reminiscing as your life flashes before your eyes. Tears welling up blurring your vision. Are the tears because you're sad? You thought you were ready for death but seeing your memories like this in your final moments you're realising your life wasn't nearly as shitty as it felt at times. The tears crawling down your face are tears of joy and the new tears welling up to replace them aren't tears of sadness necessarily but tears of longing. There were good times but now there could be no more.

You're losing touch of reality now. Time is no longer linear but rather staccato. Stopping and starting haphazardly. Equally your vision is now unfocused even when you do manage to blink out the tears.

A bright white light appears in your periphery making everything else relatively darker. Your vision now an Instagram vignette photo dialled up to eleventeen. You were never one for praying or believing in God but you reason the gratitude you're feeling at the life you've led and the people in it has evoked the famous mercy of God. The white light approaches you and now it's humanoid shape is apparent.

"Hello", the humanoid whiteness says. It's voice echoing with gravitas and self righteousness.

"Hh-h-hi", you meekly manage to force the single syllable from your lips. The figure stands before you unmoving, as though it's waiting for something. You know what you must do. In your mind you conjure up all the evils you've committed, bringing them to the forefront of your mind to be expelled and gasp out the words you know you've gone too long without saying:

"I-I'm so s-ssorry", the tears are back in full swing but a different flavour from before. Complete and utter surrender. The figure of whiteness crouches down to you. It's featureless head mere inches besides your own. You emotionally brace yourself for the words you've been waiting to hear your entire life. Preparing yourself for the waves of mercy about to permeate through your being, freeing you from your lifetime of suffering. You adjust your head such that your now impaired hearing can pick up the words you pray will set you free:

"I said, I'd like to speak to your manager. I won't repeat myself again. This customer service is terrible. I've been waiting on my pumpkin spice for 10 minutes now. Don't you know some of us have real jobs?"

This is the moment you realise you've encountered a Super Karen. You reach into one of the bullet holes scattered on your chest.

"Are you even listening? Do you know who I am!?", the Super Karen continues. You find yourself thankful for their unrelenting, entitled bickering- without it you know you wouldn't have the strength to do what comes next. You rip your heart from your chest, incidentally flinging it at the Super Karen as your body falls limp.

"This is assault! I'm calling the police!"

But for you reality fades to darkness. At last there are no more tears. No more noise.

[inakoma]

This scene where the mask making dude asked Kaneki if he has any allergies got me thinking. Imagine staring down the barrel of like 50 tanks surrounding you like "Hold up. I'm just googlin' somethin'". Typing "how many tanks can one ghoul take?" and as expected the search results show a bunch of Lindsay Lohan pictures captioned "THE LIMIT DOES NOT EXIST".

But a kid backs out a bag of peanuts in the movie theatre and that's it for you. Airways restricting. The first two lines of 'Mad World' repeating in your head because you never bothered to learn the rest of the lyrics besides the chorus. Oxygen deprived you're losing touch with reality. Some middle aged brunette lady in a beret offering her EpiPen, pressing it into you just to watch it crumble in contact with your impervious skin. "Is anyone a doctor?!" you hear before you close your eyes again feeling like you've repeated the line 'worn out faces" enough to transition to the "and I find it kind of funny" bit. This part you know well but you can't speak, on account of not being able to breath. Still you melodically grunt the tune with confidence because if this is to be your final performance you've got to make it something they'll all remember. Paramedics now surrounding you preparing for a tracheostomy but again to no avail. The scalpel splinters to needle like shards that explode in a small glitter like flurry before gravity remembers to pull it down to the ground sprinkling around where you lay. You muster the last ounce of strength you have left in your body to tug the paramedic close to you so he can hear you whisper your final words you've so carefully set up. His right ear a mere one and a quarter inches away from your lips as you force out the words through sheer will and overly generous quantities of crystallised anime logic™, "When..people run i-in circles..it it's a very, very sad.. world" the paramedic turns to you incredulous "Did you mean 'mad' world?", He snorts involuntarily. Tears well in your eyes forcing you to avert eye contact out of the sheer embarrassment of it all. "Pffft" the paramedic let's another snicker escape his lips. The worst part is you know he's trying his best to contain himself but it's just that funny he can't help himself. You're the laughingstock of livestock. Another paramedic calls out "Hey Joe what did they say?"

"Okay get this, you see that song 'Mad World' ahahah oh my god it's literally in the name I can't-" Joe the paramedic can't even get the story out he's hysterical at this point but he'll no doubt try share this with everyone who'll listen.

You lay there forced to listen to the ridicule of the beings you used to eat for dinner as your impending and unavoidable doom draws nearer but not quite near enough. Unfortunately.

"No way how could anyone think it's ahahah 'Sad World' phahahaaa so dumb ahahahee 'Sad'!!" the laughter of this second paramedic is uncontrolled at first as it increases in intensity until it's but a wheeze that she's desperately trying to correct but air refuses to fill her lungs, at least not a fast as her laughter displaces it.

You're wondering how you're even still alive at this point and what you did to deserve this. All of this ridicule just because like a vulture you've always craved a good death. A death with words that resonate with those in earshot and paint you in colours highlighting the cold, detached aesthetic you've worked so hard all your life to portray, abandoned in your death. How are you not dead yet? Is this a ghoul thing? The thoughts cross your mind as the second paramedic finally catches her breath and with it she says "Alf, get over here you're not going to believe this". How can this be happening you think to yourself after all that preparation and effort but in the end your last word a whisper dwarfed in volume by the chuckling now spreading throughout the room like a plague. This is how you will be remembered. A fool. When you finally do squeeze out your last breathe. The cackling cacophony now far too loud for anyone to hear the last thing you'll ever say:

"fuck"

[inakoma]

“God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn’t have given us memory.”

— Fish in Exile, Vi Khi Nao

[inakoma]

"So Rob, whatever happened with you and uhh Patricia was it? I always thought you guys were ride or die"

"Yeah we were till she caught on to the fact I can't drive or die. So she dumped me then wrote this long twitter post about me being a sociopath who deserves to die alone and homeless hehe but what does she know, am I right?"

"I don't know man, I mean she is a licensed psychiatrist. Isn't it like her job to know?"

"Okay fine I admit the post did have some compelling points. I do tend to blame everyone else for the war crimes I've committed under various pseudonyms every other week, but who doesn't? Honestly I almost bought into it myself, that is up until the paragraph on delusions of grandeur. That's when it went wayy off and lost all credibility in my eyes"

"Right. You? Delusions of grandeur? No wayyy"

"Exactly! So you just knoww I had to drop a comment sayi-"

"What? No way you dropped a comment. She didn't block y-"

"LET ME FINISH! Actually wait good point she did block me, but your boys a bit of a hack so I made a fake account under a pseudonym"

"Okay sorry hate to interrupt but did you mean 'hacker'"

"Yeah whatever. Geez thought I was talking to Mr. Kimmel not Mr. Robot"

"Not my name but do go on"

"Uh yeah I know, that's the joke. Keep up Jimmy. Anyway, I commented anonymously under the twitter handle 'Hieronymous Bitch' because I know how much she values the opinions of people who share similar tastes in art as her and wrote a far more convincing rant refuting the paragraph on delusions of grandeur. The genius part of it all is that I wrote it pretending to be my own new girlfriend so she thinks I've moved on. Essentially I explained how I, Rob D. Immortal, may be a jerk at times but it's unfair to accuse someone of delusions of grandeur just because they never truly loved you"

"Okay just going to brush over you thinking my name's Jimmy Kimmel. What part exactly of this entire conversation proves you're not a sociopath?"

"The part where I'm not delusional"

"You say that but you also just called yourself 'the immortal'"

"Oh I see common misconception. I said Rob D. Immortal. I had my name legally changed because of this anime called one piece, it's pretty obscure so you probably haven't heard of it."

"Ughh okay so I get the D but why did you go for Immortal as a surname"

"Oh word that's because I can't die"

"...and you fail to see how you're a sociopath on the grounds you're not delusional?"

"I get the confusion Mr Fallon?"

*school counsellor shakes head*

Rob clears throat obnoxiously. "You see it's only a delusion when it's not true but you still believe it"

"Okay so there's a lot to unpack there but it looks like our hour is up"

"Oh right so I should wrap things up? So my book 'Suck My Toes Puny Mortals' hits the shelves on Thursday, but you can pre-order on Amazon as of yesterday. Thanks for having me Mr Corden, honestly we don't do this enough"

"Again, that's not my name and we've been doing this every week for the past 2 years now"

"Aha yeah I love me too. Bye now"

I love this trope

[inakoma]

We all know and love Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off gel mask for how it feels and looks like drying human ejaculate on your skin, but how does it weigh up against the real thing?

Recent studies have revealed to me the fact that I won't ever find out cos I'm slept on even on grindr, but that won't stop me from speculating.

The first difference I noted between Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off gel mask and how cum dries on my face (in my dreams) is the distinct lack of screeching swans flapping around just beyond the periphery of my eyesight passionately trying to prove what is out of sight isn't necessarily out of mind.

When applied directly to the eyes the psychedelic properties cum to the eyes usually produce is nowhere to be seen in Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off gel mask. Nothing is seen with Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off gel mask in the eyes but the delicate yet terrifying face of pain incarnate.

We've all heard of the expression "keep your eyes peeled" but no mere words can prepare you for the orgasmic clarity you get from peeling Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off mask from your eyes. Trust me, after waiting the appropriate 10-15 minutes with Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off mask you're going to want to keep peeling your eyes forever!

If this sounds a peeling, next time you find yourself craving the feeling and appearance of a facial without the pesky human contact it so often entails try Freeman's revitalising pomegranate peel-off gel mask!

[inakoma]

So there I was sitting on a large, rusty industrial trolley tipped on its side staring out onto a freshly hoed field. Swatting at flies that dare obstruct my gaze out to the horizon. On my phone writing about the deep dark feelings only the notes app can hold and I was thinking about mortality- but like as a concept. Mainly thinking about the phrase 'weak mortal' because it could mean a mortal that is weak but it could mean a being that is weakly mortal (like weakly acidic). Which led to me realising if mortality were a spectrum then a weak mortal would be the closest you could get to immortality as a mortal.

Got me thinking it'd be nice to see a vampire movie where the big bad is calling our heroes "weak mortals" and the de facto leader (who lacks enough emotional depth to be a thrilling protagonist) drives a stake through their heart and is all like "mortality is a spectrum!" and the jaded bad ass, punk kid in the group adds "...and we're tired of letting scum like you live in it." *Spits on vampire ashes* and the black, non binary, human-loving vampire pianist who's new to the group is like "I'm so dumb, I literally just got why you've been calling yourselves 'Some Weak Mortals' all this time" *facepalms* and the annoyingly emotionally stable leader of the group turns to xem and is all like "Now that you're part of the team I guess we're going to have to come up with a new name" and the punk kid from before who's literally everyone's favourite is like "damn I'm sure gonna miss how our enemies would shudder at the thought of squaring up against some weak mortals" while giving the leader a sarcastic evil eye for picking such a dumb name. The leader retorts "Okay fine was it a great name? No. Was it the name's fault so many mortals who are weak can't live without fear even today? Undoubtedly. But, was the name inclusive to everyone in the gang at the time? Yes."

Then the punk kid goes off:

"You see that's your problem golden boy. You're far too much of a people pleaser to deal with matters as important this. Look it's simple really as you say mortality is a spectrum and we're running around picking off the fuckers we don't wanna see on it. We're not some weak mortals. We're not inclusive™. We are..." then it cuts to title screen:

THE GATEKEEPERS

Credits roll

Keith David narrates the "The Gatekeepers" bit btw if that wasn't already obvious and 'The Gatekeepers 2: who gatekeeps the gatekeepers and why the gate keeps gating it's own keep despite the gaters' will feature dementors, forcing the gang to reassess their ideas on mortality to include those who were never even born and of course it will provide in depth instructions on how to kill what was never born and never lived.

(Disclaimer: I'd hate for people to get upset thinking I'm calling them weak mortals so just to clarify all humans reading this fall under the 'strong mortals who are weak' category. Which is to say you're so much stronger than the weak mortals but only in how mortal you are. You are a mere mortal and their mortality is tainted with elements that make them harder to kill and live much longer lives. This explanation isn't made to make you feel better, it's to make sure you're getting upset at the right insult. Your class: strong mortal. Your disposition: weak. Your class means you will die easier and faster than anything else on the mortality spectrum. Your disposition means I don't like you.)

Anyways, first you're going to want to grab a big bowl and get all the ingredients you're gonna wanna put in your brownies altogether:

Add half a cup of melted butter and a whole cup of sugar to the bowl and stir for 30 seconds:

Then add 2 eggs, and 3 teaspoons of vanilla essence and a cheeky lil bit of maple syrup before stirring for a further 1 minute:

Melt your chocolate and mix in but not thoroughly. Then add 3/4 cup of flour:

...and sieve in 1/4 cup of cocoa powder and Cadbury drinking chocolate powder:

Mix again and put a pack of Oreos and galaxy minstrels in a sandwich bag:

Obliterate the content of the sandwich bag by any means necessary:

Finally add the content of the sandwich bag and give one final light stir:

Grease a pan and fit the mix into pan smoothing the top to make it relatively even:

Pop in oven with heat 180° (fan) for around 20 minutes then Bob is your uncle:

Anyone else love the feeling of cleaning up the kitchen while baking so fast no one sees you. Honestly it's better than sex🥵

Um I don't actually possess the skill set required to eat brownies. This satisfaction of producing baked goods seemingly out of nowhere is what fuels me.

[inakoma]

Can someone explain to me why when Rudy Francisco says "I want to drink the sunlight in your skin" everyone in the room swoons and clicks their fingers in appraisal and adoration, but when I say it I just get blocked :/

[inakoma]

Just a friendly reminder to stans of community: there's a whole inspector spacetime fandom page with gold like this. Some of which is based off of stuff that's actually confirmed by the show about inspector spacetime and a lot more of it that's just random stuff that'd totally never really happen in inspector spacetime :P

[inakoma]

At night I see moving shadows on the right side of my curtains. They move like the beating wings of a bird large enough to have no place in the sky. It comes from above and the light it's obscuring comes from my next door neighbours garden but there are no trees or branches between the light and my window that could possibly explain this phenomenon. I find comfort in knowing there just might be someone out there going to such lengths to gaslight me.

[inakoma]

It was my first night at this place but I already felt the unhinged energy in the air as thick as the stench of sweat pervading through it and in through me. I was high off it, I could tell without a shadow of a doubt that this right here had been what I was missing in my life since Debra left with the kids. I had spent only around 20 minutes at this point familiarising myself with the regulars and devising plans for what to say if whoever was in charge questioned me (as much as anyone could be in charge).

It must've been around midnight when the chattering died down. Abruptly. Like a room of candles being extinguished from a single blow. The silence spread from person to person till there was silence. At the center of it was a single shirtless man standing there smiling. While the look in his eye was screaming tales of unrepressed rage. I couldn't describe it but I felt like just being in his presence meant I left the concept of restraint back at home. That devious smile like he was all too aware of his place to ever be questioned. His eyes were if anything what drew me in but seeing that smile made me want to avert eye contact. Like his very existence was a threat to the gods and if our eyes meet I've lost all hope of salvation.

He glanced from side to side as the men in his immediate vicinity made room to ensure they were not. His eyes continued darting about. Darting was perhaps the wrong word -it seemed too deliberate, too measured. I felt in that moment like I was in the presence of a beast. The male gaze had never felt so searing. My heart raced as though my body could tell it was in the immediate presence of a predator. No, it was more than that. Until that moment I didn't even know that I had always been prey but now I couldn't unsee it.

Once ample space had been made around the man. The man who was very clearly the alpha here. He was Jupiter and we were but his 79 or so moons. Tyler, I had heard the men call him. Tyler Durden.

"Could someone here remind me the first rule of fight club!", he boomed without any obvious strain. The way he spoke it was like he was but an aperture through which the word of a greater entity wearing human skin spoke through. I remember losing myself in the utter abandonment of shame he seemed to embody. I understood a bit more of him from just that one utterance. What he had wasn't just complete faith in himself but more than that it was like he lacked the ability to self-doubt, to experience anxiety, to be uncertain. It was the most natural branch of confidence I'd seen in my life and at that moment I was taken.

I was so lost in focussing on Tyler, not even just his form but what he meant that I wasn't even inspecting the room that remained silent. Not as though anyone dared ignore him but rather everyone felt it wasn't their place to speak. They'd all fallen shy in the presence of one man and his eleven words.

"The first club of rule fights: there are no clubs!"

Light muttering broke out as we all tried to purse his meaning -or at least that's what I thought at the time.

"The second fight of club rule: there are no clubs!"

The chattering had now advanced and it was clear the congregation could no longer contain their grievances, their concentration now dwindling as we grew uneasy at these words quite clearly shrouded under layers of symbolism we could not yet understand.

"The third rule of rules fights-"

"Tyler", a man near him spoke up trying to interject

"Alright who the fuck is making toast!", Tyler responded immediately whipping his head to the direction of the voice, accusatory. Now he slurred his words and swivelled about his left foot like a drunkard -swaying before falling backwards to the floor.

"Someone call an ambulance!", the crowd was now in disarray. Our Caesar toppled by nature herself. With Tyler's plunge came the permanence of our torment. The prison that is the hum drum of our monotonous lives had just received a life sentence. We were left with the choice we'd always had, to stay or to go. Only now it felt like it was in our feeble hands and that was far too much to carry.

[inakoma]

Oh Sibyl!!🥺🥺

[inakoma]

Remember when flipping the switch was fun and sexy?🥺

[inakoma]

[inakoma]

UwU What would you do if I was blowing cooly into your ear the way you like it with that slight whistle and all of a sudden you feel a warm wet sensation around your feet...you look down and its Mickey Mouse and he's sucking ur toes, like he's really getting in there- it's sensual, somewhat menacing but the look in his oversized animated eyes are saying he means no harm as long as you give him what he wants and all he seems to want is your toe jam. He nibbles a lil bit and you yelp, turning to me "babe are you seeing this?", but I'm not there. There's just Goofy blowing cooly into your slowly turning face.

"We have company hyuk hyuk", he says directing his eyes past you straight ahead. You slowly turn forward to see a beaten yellow figure tied to a chair in the distance at the end of this poorly lit hallway you find yourself in. You can hear it humming a familiar tune between grunts of pain but you can't place it given the situation and the fact Mickey won't stop nibbling at the dead skin of your feet. You curl your feet trying to let Mickey know playtime is over but Mickey doesn't take too kindly to being told no. He grabs you by the ankle opens wide, so wide you can hear his jaw unhinging in three distinct clicks. There's a moment where you could swear time is at a standstill and you can see all five rows of teeth, only molars all the way back to the nested mouth that looked like a little Mickey made of flesh and you could swear it's grinning at you. You shut your eyes, grit your teeth and prepare yourself for unimaginable pain.

*fwish*

You feel a wave of air hit you in the face like a wall for a moment.

"This was NOT the plan!", you hear Mickey scream in his usual demonic screeching voice. What was weird was that the voice was coming from behind you, not by your feet. You open your eyes and Goofy has you pulled into a hug further along the cryptic hallway.

"how di-", you start your ask but Goofy presses a finger against your lip shushing you.

"hyuk hyuk", he said and smiled but there was something about the tone of it that told you he was hurting inside. "Save the sponge and get out of here, I'll handle the rat", he patted you on the head and flashed that boyish smile one last time before heading off to fight Mickey and in your heart you knew he didn't plan to escape with you.

"The sponge?", but by the time the words had left your mouth Goofy had unobscured the figure you had barely seen before. The humming now clearly a melodic muttering "I'm...a goo..fy..goober...YEGH". It was SpongeBob battered and bruised, jumper cables crocodile clipped to his nipples. Butt naked, head bowed down but every few seconds he'd raise it and jerk to either side punctuated by a grunt where he'd yelp. He was still a long ways away but you knew you had to save him for Goofy's sake.

"I'm coming for you Squarepants!", you belt out trying as hard as you can to hide your fear and sound heroic. You run as fast as your trembling legs will carry you but you miss your step and land face first a mere 2-3 metres from SpongeBob's feet. You're too close to stop now, you push yourself up to your knees.

"DON'T YOU DO IT RONAL-", Goofy's voice rang through the corridor but was cut short by his grunting you whipped around just in time to see Mickey bite a chunk out out of Goofy's left shoulder- so deep his arm was hanging by a mere few tendons.

"GOOFYYYY!!", you bellow emptying your lungs in a single breathe.

Once again time stood still, tears welled up in your eyes. Goofy stood there head hung low, slowly swaying back and forth delirious. Victorious, Mickey turned to you ,"he always thought himself big dawg around here but in the end he was just a lil bitch"

*fwish*

Blood sprayed out of Mickey's chest and in the midst of it you could just about make out Goofy's fist at the centre of it.

"Whelp you are what you eat hyuk hyuk", the second hyuk came with a mouthful of blood.

Goofy stumbled towards you step by excruciating step you watched as blood gushed down and out of his left side. Even in this state he still boomed that smile like everything was going to be fine even though you knew no part of this was alright. You frantically crawled towards him but he shook his head ,"Save the sponge and watch out for Ronald hyuk hy-". Goofy froze.

"Goof-"

"Shh, he's here"

"What do you mean? Who's here?"

"Shh"

"It's over Goofy, the formula is as good as mine", a voice that was neither yours, Goofy's or SpongeBob's perpetual muttering spoke up. You look around haphazardly trying to find the source of the voice but see nothing.

"You leave her out of this, they don't know anything"

"I'd very much like to confirm that myself"

"I'm afraid I can't just stand by and let you do that Ronald"

"You should be very afraid, mutt", the man, Ronald appeared holding a red metal bat in front of Goofy mid swing,"and its Mr McDonald to traitors like you" When the swing made contact there was no standstill this time- there was just the crack of Goofy's skull against the bat then the squelch of his carcass flung to the wall. There it stuck for a moment like how raindrops trailing down a window pause for a moment before continuing down. Was the rain hesitant to go down that path? Did it know it was to return to the whole and want to hold onto its individuality? Did Goofy know some part of him would return to a whole? Your mind racing to uncomfortably wishful places. There was no one left to save you now- no one but yourself.

"we..re...all..goo..fy...goo...bers...YEA", the refrain continued in the silence that ensued after Goofy slumped to the floor. It startled you even though the refrain had never stopped. Why was he still singing? If it was to signal Goofy there was no point now?

Mr McDonald turned to you, squatted so you were as close to eye level as he could get with his disproportionately lanky figure. His eyes were far from anything in this universe, a deep purple hue with shifting black and silver shapes in a rhythmic flux. He smiled, "Tell me the secret ingredient to the krabby patty formula"

"I d-don't know"

McDonald stretched his swinging arm back. The way he moved was like a slapstick animation, at odds with reality. The way rules of depth didn't seem to apply to him so when he swung it sort of looked like he was still stretching further back. By the time I realised the bat was coming for me it was too late. There was red then there was black...

[inakoma]

Life gave me lemon flavoured dishwashing liquid. I did what I had to do... https://www.instagram.com/p/CC0oLxGpn9w/?igshid=14g91rjm63n33

[inakoma]

Guys watch out for the man with the horse whistle in ur dreams tonight. He is not to be trusted. Not saying he's tryna steal Ulrich the beautiful black horse (who's also just a homey) from us to mince, season with crystallised bovine tears and inject directly into feet with his family- but one can never be hunnid percent about these things. STAY WOKE PEOPLE!

#horsies#treezaregood4you

[inakoma]

I spit on regionals and drink their children's powdered bones in my kool aid🥺🥰