#Creep Chromatic

[thesearenotphotographs]

Red Bull Culture Clash NYC 2024

On Saturday, June 1, 2024, the latest edition of Red Bull Culture Clash took place in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Four crews competed in four rounds to win over the crowd, with each team representing an annual NYC parade. There were decibel readings for each team after every round and the team with the most points would be crowned the winner.

The four crews were Remezcla (Puerto Rican Day parade), Papi Juice (Pride Parade), Eastern Standard Times (Lunar New Year), and No Long Talk (West Indian Parade). I was assigned to document NLT’s stage, which I was super excited about since my father was from Jamaica and I went to many West Indian Parades growing up. The final round had the crews bringing out special guests and it was pretty tough to beat No Long Talk’s surprise guests: YG Marley and Wyclef Jean. NLT also brilliantly handed out noisemakers to their supporters to help them be the loudest.

There’s a few images on my website here, plus a recap on the Red Bull website here, and a few more images on their Instagram accounts here and here.

[spookwyrdie]

Divine Flesh

part 1 {part 2} {part 3}

Priest Jeongin x Fem Reader

summary: When he took his vow of celibacy, Jeongin was so confident that he'd always be strong in the face of temptation. Nothing could get in the way of his devotion... Until he laid eyes on you. There was something...unnatural about his desire for you. /// word count: 1.5k /// genre: smut, angst /// warnings: priest kink, sexual themes, hierophilia, corruption kink, masturbation, shame and guilt, straight up blasphemy a/n: I didn't grow up catholic but somehow I ended up with a priest kink anyway? I did my research as best I could, but there's bound to be inaccuracies. This will be a 3 part fic for the spooky season <3 if you'd like to be added to the taglist, reply to this post or send me a DM!

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

The mist outside clings to the stained glass windows, turning the translucent colors opaque. It’s a small, narrow window, only the image of the cross surrounded by a chromatic, patterned web. It feels so much more solid today on this cold morning, no sunlight filtering through the multicolored panes of glass. Jeongin tried to keep his focus on it, counting the hues, to distract himself. Though he could feel the chill seeping in through his robe as he held the basket of communion wafers, he had something uncomfortable smoldering in his chest. He felt an impure warmth creeping up his neck beneath the crisp white clergy collar.

You are in line. He hasn’t seen you come up for communion in weeks. When he wasn’t paying attention, you must have finally confessed some mortal sin to the aging Father Park.  As he avoids your eyes, he wonders in vain what the nature of your sins are. A small, impious part of him hopes they’re carnal. But here you are, eyes locked onto him any time he glanced away from handing the body of Christ to another parishioner. 

You wear a serene smile on your face - unbothered, reserved, and almost shy - innocently fluttering your eyelashes like a fawn licking dew off of a leaf. How could you look so virtuous after the things you did with him, to him, in his dreams? The way he’s seen those eyes look down at him from above with a dusty pink glow so many times, he felt like he could paint them from memory. Jeongin felt a bolt of hot shame drive through his heart like a nail. It wasn’t your fault that he met you every night after he fell asleep as you did wicked things with your hands, your lips, your tongue in his dreams. 

He had only moved to this small parish in the middle of nowhere a few months ago, settling into the provincial town easily. But for the last few weeks, his slumber has been plagued by visions of you on your knees, on your back, on his mouth. He’ll jolt awake in the middle of the night, panting with need, cock hard and leaking. Once he awoke to find himself desperately fucking his hips into his mattress. It made him feel like a schoolboy again with a wild, uncontrollable need. You make him feel out of control.

You walk down the aisle towards him, hands together, eyes hooded. Jeongin could swear he saw a faint dusty pink flare in your pupils, but he dismisses it outright. He’s imagining things he wants to see, and he wants to see you glowing.

You only take your eyes off of him for a second to bow in reverence. The way you step towards him makes time nearly stop. Everything moves in slow motion before Jeongin’s eyes as you kneel on the threadbare hassock. It’s as if the air between the two of you shivers, almost like the heat of a flame bending light around it. Your supple form in your modest clothes, he’s imagined what lies beneath a few thin layers of fabric and his eyes. You’re so close to him, eyes closed as you tilt your head up. His eyes flit around your face as he takes in all the small details: a wayward freckle in your cheek, a minuscule scar on your chin, the delicate curve of your lips. You look up into his eyes, peeking beneath your eyelashes.

“The b-body of Christ…” he stammers. 

Your eyebrows crinkle upwards with what could be called a worried expression, but the way your eyes sparkle makes you look like you’re teasing him. Jeongin feels frozen, his feet screaming at him to run but his heart gluing him to the spot. A slow smile dawns on your face before you lean forward, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to receive the dry little wafer. Your soft pink tongue rests on your lower lip as you stare up at him, waiting for his next move. 

Jeongin would do anything to feel that tongue. That tongue that his sleeping mind tells him is wet, hot, and skilled. He lifts the wafer, gingerly placing it on your tongue, lingering for as long as he’ll allow himself before anyone can get suspicious. 

He begins to pull away when he feels it. He feels a gentle pressure, the lightest kitten lick of your tongue over the tip of his thumb. His eyes go wide, pupils flaring with the sudden urge to claim you. It takes all the effort in the world not to dip his thumb into your mouth - the mere thought has arousal hurtling through his body, clenching his abdominal muscles. That coy smile is still on your face when you finally turn away, sauntering back to your seat. To Jeongin, each step feels like it singes the carpet underneath your feet, the image of your swaying hips imprinting in his chest.

It’s all he thinks about when he’s in the shower later. The icy temperature does nothing to calm his nerves as his flushed, hard cock bobs at the thought of you. Somehow, he made it through the rest of Mass without anyone catching on to the light sweat that prickled his skin. The focus he had on slow breathing during Father Kim's sermon was the only thing standing between him and a tent in his slacks in front of the whole congregation. 

Father Kim noticed that he seemed tense and gave Jeongin the rest of the day off to meditate on what bothered him. After thanking him, Jeongin practically ran back to his living space - the small studio with one spacious bathroom. Feverishly ripping his collar off, unbuttoning his shirt, and kicking off his slacks, he hopped into his shower. Blasting his body with frigid water seemed like the right thing to do. He yelped, arching his back as his skin screamed at the rapid change in temperature.

This is good, this is what he needs. He needs some sort of distraction from thinking about you. He took his vow of chastity very seriously, but today was putting his commitment to the test. Jeongin didn’t have a ton of experience, but he wasn’t a virgin before he took the cloth. He was so confident that he had a handle on any sort of temptation laid before him, no carnal desire could overpower his devotion to the Lord and his duty to the church. 

No temptation, that is, until you. 

The guilt slammed through him as arousal thrummed in his blood. The first time he laid eyes on you, kneeling for a prayer during his first Mass in the new parish, caught him completely off guard. There was something so magnetic about you - the way your hair fell on your brow, the slight pursing of your lips as you prayed, the delicate clasp of your hands around your rosary. You were breathtaking, but it wasn't until you smiled at him that he felt chained to you, fully at your mercy.

 The bitter cold of the water sends stinging shivers through his body and settle at the base of his spine. Building more pressure in his pelvis, he finds his hips shaking as he grows hard, trying to control the thrusting of his hips at the thought of you. He hasn’t been this sensitive to lust ever before in his life. The way your plush lips framed your tongue as you presented it to him… he hisses. His skin is buzzing as if every nerve ending is lit up like a neon sign.

Jeongin starts whispering the only prayer that comes to mind at the moment in an attempt to pull himself back from the edge of insanity. 

Hail Mary, full of grace -

He leans his forehead against the cool blue tile of his shower wall, closing his eyes trying to focus on the words.

The Lord is with thee - 

The cold water pouring against his skin isn’t enough to cool him down, he feels like his body is on fire. Pressing his upper body towards the shower wall, he gasps the next line of his prayer as his nipples come into contact with the chilled tile, pebbling at the sensation. 

Blessed are thou amongst women -

He doesn’t know when his hand found its way down to his cock, but he cries out at the contact, bucking his hips into his fist. He’s so hard, it’s almost painful. The tip of his cock a ruddy color as it throbs in his hand. 

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb - 

“Jesus!” he huffs, his hand picking up speed, chasing his sacrilege to its inevitable end. The haunting image of your eyes, glowing that faint dusty pink, flashes in his mind again.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners - 

His stomach curls, sliding down to the shower floor on his knees. His balls tighten, his hips pistoning his cock into his hand. He can’t control the whimpers leaving his mouth now, he’s almost past his breaking point. He thinks about your pink tongue, glistening in low light, pressing the tip against his thumb.

Now and at the hour of our death.

He cries out as his body convulses, his orgasm pulsing through him. It’s electric, he feels his hair stand on end. Thick ropes of white splatter against the shower wall, the shower quickly washing away any evidence of his sin. 

“Amen,” he sobs, slumping over in defeat, his hair clinging to his cheek as the water continues to pour over him. His vow of celibacy shattered in a single instant.

~~~

{part 2} {part 3}

if you'd like to be a part of the taglist, reply to this post or send me a DM! <3

[reasonsforhope]

"Lead is a neurotoxin; it causes premature deaths and lifelong negative effects. It’s said “there is no safe level of lead exposure” — as far as we know, any lead causes damage, and it just gets worse the more exposure there is.

After a 20-year, worldwide campaign, in 2021 Algeria became the final country to end leaded gasoline in cars — something the US phased out in 1996. That should make a huge difference to environmental lead levels. But lots of sources remain, from car batteries to ceramics...

Bangladesh phased out leaded gasoline in the 1990s. But high blood lead levels have remained. Why? When researchers Stephen Luby and Jenny Forsyth, doing work in rural Bangladesh, tried to isolate the source, it turned out to be a surprising one: lead-adulterated turmeric.

Turmeric, a spice in common use for cooking in South Asia and beyond, is yellow, and adding a pigment made of lead chromate makes for bright, vibrant colors — and better sales. Buyers of the adulterated turmeric were slowly being poisoned...

But there’s also good news: A recent paper studying lead in turmeric in Bangladesh found that researchers and the Bangladeshi government appear to have driven lead out of the turmeric business in Bangladesh.

How Bangladesh got serious about lead poisoning

The researchers who’d isolated turmeric as the primary cause of high blood lead levels —working for the nonprofit International Center for Diarrheal Disease Research, Bangladesh — went to meet with government officials. They collected samples nationwide and published a 2019 follow-up paper on the extent of the problem. Bangladesh’s Food Safety Authority got involved.

They settled on a two-part approach, starting with an education campaign to warn people about the dangers of lead. Once people had been warned that lead adulteration was illegal, they followed up with raids to analyze turmeric and fine sellers who were selling adulterated products.

They posted tens of thousands of fliers informing people about the risks of lead. They got coverage in the news. And then they swept through the markets with X-ray fluorescence analyzers, which detect lead. They seized contaminated products and fined sellers.

According to the study released earlier this month, this worked spectacularly well. “The proportion of market turmeric samples containing detectable lead decreased from 47 percent pre-intervention in 2019 to 0 percent in 2021,” the study found. And the vanishing of lead from turmeric had an immediate and dramatic effect on blood lead levels in the affected populations, too: “Blood lead levels dropped a median of 30 percent.”

The researchers who helped make that result happen are gearing up for similar campaigns in other areas where spices are adulterated.

The power of problem-solving

...When the Food Safety Authority showed up at the market and started issuing fines for lead adulteration, it stopped being a savvy business move to add lead. Purchasers who were accustomed to unnatural lead-colored turmeric learned how to recognize non-adulterated turmeric. And so lead went from ubiquitous to nearly nonexistent in the space of just a few years.

That’s a better world for everyone, from turmeric wholesalers to vulnerable kids — all purchased at a shockingly low price. The paper published this month concludes, “with credible information, appropriate technology, and good enough governance, the adulteration of spices can be stopped.”

There’s still a lot more to be done. India, like Bangladesh, has widespread adulteration of turmeric. And safety testing will have to remain vigilant to prevent lead in Bangladesh from creeping back into the spice supply.

But for all those caveats, it’s rare to see such fast, decisive action on a major health problem — and impressive to see it immediately rewarded with such a dramatic improvement in blood lead levels and health outcomes. It’s a reminder that things can change, and can change very quickly, as long as people care, and as long as they act."

-via Vox, September 20, 2023

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I headcanon Color with narcolepsy type 2, but he manages it well enough that it's not easy for outside sources to guess he has a sleeping disorder at all. (Obviously Epic, Delta, and Killer can made educated guesses, since they know the bastard)

However, it is the excessive daytime sleepiness that gives him the most trouble. It takes him forever to get out of bed, and even longer to "wake up" completely once he's gotten coffee.

This could serve as another foil between him and Killer, since Killer avoids sleep and perhaps can't stay asleep for long, Color can't seem to get away from it even though his anti-depressants help his functioning substantially.

This becomes more apparent once Killer learns how often Color experiences sleep paralysis.

Oh that’s an interesting headcanon. Read one little article on it, will probably read up more, but according to the article, a way to help daytime sleepiness is having planned 20 minute naps throughout the day, and like, I can see the Chromatic Crew all reminding Color to take naps if he doesn’t have anything planned for the day, which probably actually isn’t very often with how much that old man is out exploring or wants to be out exploring.

Actually I can see it like, Killer often times going out in nature walks and trails with Color (whenever he doesn’t want to be alone and have some time to himself), and like they carry along stuff like a little picnic blanket and stuff so whenever they stop somewhere, they just lay out the blanket and maybe enjoy a picnic and use this as time to see if color needs to take a nap or if he’s okay to keep going or wants to go back home.

And whenever Delta, Epic, and Cross go out on the walks with Color, I like to think they kinda carry or give him a piggyback ride home if he’s so tired or sleepy to walk— which isn’t often, but enough to be noticeable.

And like, because neither Killer or Epic really sleep much, I can picture like—they take turns sitting around and just talking to or reading to or just sitting near color or gently touching him/encourage him to try and move a muscle whenever they notice that he’s dealing with sleep paralysis.

It’s probably most likely to be Killer, since they probably share a room in their home in the Omega Timeline, but im picturing a scene where they aren’t sharing a room yet and Killers out roaming the house and being a little creep—checking up on everyone and entering their rooms and watching people sleep (probably because he hasn’t yet settled in with the crew or in the new environment and wants to find out as much information as possible), and like—all Color sees is Killer stepping out of the shadows out of his bedroom and approaching him and staring at him with those big fucking eyes and creepy ass smile before he starts trying to help him out 💀

(And like maybe color falls asleep again not long after and killers gone when wakes up and he thinks killer was like his sleep paralysis demon or something)

And reading up on this disorder a little gave me a few ideas on how killer might try to ‘help’ but in a way that’s kinda toxic and fucked up despite good intentions due to lack of grasp on clear boundaries and morals (and possibly just doing what was done to him thinking it’d help/need for control) but I’ll not talk about it here

{ @sarcosticsarcomere }

[feebisart]

The Door You Don't Knock On (3/4)

(( Trigger Warning: Unreality, Transformation, Body Horror, Derealization, Dissociation, Hints of Past Abuse, Drowning, Death, Existential Horror, Emotional Manipulation, Mental Health Struggles, Surreal/Disturbing Imagery, References to Violence, Grief/Loss. ))

A/N: Please keep in mind the trigger warnings. Thank you.

Billy opened his blue eyes, reflecting the stars and galaxies squished into streams of Saturn's spinning disk. He blinked a couple of times, rubbing at the sleep with the back of his hand.

"Oh." He uttered as he gazed into the surreal sky.

Gingerly, he pushed himself up, feeling the pleasant heat of the couch beneath him. He gave the sofa a soft pat—a habit of thanking inanimate objects. Around him, a haze of heat gently rested over a fiery sea, furniture bobbing leisurely throughout the molten tide as tubes drifted down a waterpark's lazy river.

Peering over the side of the comfortable couch, Billy hesitated before dropping onto a stone slab atop the vibrant sand. Multicolored grains shifted beneath the piece as the foot met pavement. It was, of course, a migraine to look at. However, it wasn't lava. He won't look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.

A giggle bubbled out of his mouth, surprising the young boy. The silliness of it all—the marshmallow-soft cushions and the flaming ocean provided the backdrop to his amusement. Billy had slept on dozens of surfaces before—hardwood floors, tile, rock, and even the branches of trees. Now, he could add roasted marshmallow cushions to that list.

In the distance, the molten rock hissed as if affronted by his laughter. The gurgling mass of creeping lava spewed spectral radiant mist that drizzled glitter over the coast around him. The grains collided with a soft yet strangely metallic sound as the mist met the sand. Curious, Billy crouched closer and spotted a glint amid the chromatic, iridescent particles. The sand wasn't just sand—it morphed between tiny sand crystals and larger metallic jacks.

"That's so weird." He muttered as he brushed some ashes off his sweater. Stretching his back, he surveyed the area. Marble slabs scattered across the sand like lily pads floating across a pond.

Did anyone say Leapfrog?

Billy grinned from ear to ear, leaping from slab to slab like a child playing hopscotch, waving his arms to balance himself with each jump. Nearing the end of the path, he teetered on one foot, almost stepping into the sand before catching himself on the rock's edge.

A large gap loomed before him, filled with kaleidoscopic minerals torn between quartz crystals and knucklebones. A faint cling reverberated as a breeze brushed past. Wind chimes as it weaves through colliding metal scraps or, perhaps, mocking laughter.

Beyond him unfurled a black-and-white checkered pattern floor. The boy drew in a deep breath before launching himself across. He landed and slid onto the sleek, slippery floor, emitting a harsh squeal—grating rubber squeaking onto a slick glass surface.

Flapping his arms with a hint of desperation, he glided to a halt in the middle of an elegant hallway, gasping for breath. Doors were lined in uniform repeating patterns along the hallways, and their handles were in particularly unique places—some were far too high, some were two inches from the floor, and some were just floating in the air—just out of reach. Billy blinked, wondering where he should go next.

The tingling crept around Billy's shoulders, wrapped around the boy's shoulders like a white cloak. A faint, high-pitched ringing stalked him—a persistent mosquito honing into the sting. He had thought the further he walked from the sand, the fainter the sound would get. But apparently not. The hallways seemed to turn and twist sideways, looping into themselves in a never-ending Moebius strip. Every turn he'd been there before, every step left a resounding echo.

The ringing amplified, adding the soprano of screeching feedback, the base of discordant laughter, and rhythmic faint taunts using distorted versions of Billy's voice. It wasn't just his ears but also his taste. Every time his voice screamed into his ear, he tasted the stinging, metallic flavor, tasting the noise itself. An earworm that wouldn't leave gnawed at his thoughts, a continuous spiraling loop. Billy knew plenty of earworms—songs that wormed their way into your brain, settling comfortably to never leave, much like Mister-

No, Billy shook his head quickly, cutting off the thought. He needed to find what It Is Not. The boy could not afford to Spiral. He pinched the bridges of his nose as it howled into his ear, dropping all pretense of subtlety. There was no doubt in his mind—It was getting impatient.

Perhaps in annoyance or wanting it all to stop, he grabbed the nearest door handle and pulled it without thinking. His pale fingers curled tightly around the handle, and with a swift, violent force, he yanked the door open. The panel slammed against the wall, and chips of wood fell onto the ground from the pure force. Static surged into a deafening disharmonious crescendo, an ice pick to the head regarding ear-splitting notes.

All of a sudden, nothing.

The door sealed shut behind him, hissing shut with finality in the form of air decompressing from a pressurized chamber. A faint rush of air brushed against his back before all was still. He concentrated on hearing the ringing, which was still there—faint, in the background, waiting.

The room was quite ordinary, if a bit cluttered. Art Deco flair seeped into the gold and black orchid wallpaper, sleek and aerodynamic furniture, and black and white tiles with gold accents. There was a hint of paint and wood shavings in the air. Open and empty cans of paint scattered across the floor. Baskets and containers of pencils, pens, markers, and chalk were piled on each other. Blank Canvases were scattered around the room with palettes of every imaginable color. Brushes were placed at each art stand, overflowing the holder.

It was overwhelming—every medium of art stacked on each other in a gaudy display of choices. He could see perhaps a faded yellow couch propped up by a couple of sketchbooks, but it was dwarfed by the mountain of yarn balls on top of it. Despite the hodgepodge, there was something quite familiar about the place, a sense of déjà vu that piqued Billy's curiosity.

Billy placed his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue as if affronted by the mess before him. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, using a piece of yarn he chewed off to tie it up. (He would not look for sharp items in that Mess.) He heaved up a heavy bin of rolled newspapers, nudging an open can of reddish-brown paint aside with his foot as he gasped for breath.

At least, it was silent.

Billy huffed, hands on his hips before he dived into piles of art supplies. He disliked too much mess since it made it hard to think. There was so much stuff—baskets of watercolors, buckets of oil paints, tubes of acrylics, and towers of jars filled with miscellaneous supplies. He began separating the chaos into categories, which made his brain happy—drawing, painting, fabric, knitting, etc.

As he's moving a metal tin of colored pencils, his gaze caught onto something strange: a pair of pointed shoes, brown cap-toe oxfords, still polished with a gleaming sheen. As he moved away a bucket of unopened paint, his breath caught in his throat as he discerned the pant leg of a familiar brown suit.

"It can't be." Billy's voice hitched. "Mr. Dare…"

Dan Dare. The detective.

His stomach sank as he hurriedly clawed into the clutter, his trembling hands scraping against metal tins. Boxes of chalk toppled, spilling pink dust into the air. Bins of sketchbooks teetered precariously—a makeshift Tower of Pisa, while buckets of crayons were knocked over, a few loose crayons tumbling around. Billy's desperate cleaning halted; his breath hitched as he stilled at the sight.

A chair.

It looked normal enough—the sleek, glossy finish of the Beech arms and the soft, supple, genuine leather for the cushion. But the form? Following the curve of the backrest, the cushion flowed into a lower torso with a pair of legs clad in brown pants underneath. They were human. They were Dan.

Where flesh met wood, there wasn't a neat seam or clean cut of timber, but a continuous languid flow. Veins snaked through the beech wood and flawlessly transitioned to the chair's grain in the arms above. The lungs were absent, yet the lower part of the torso continued to inflate as if breathing.

Billy's gaze drew to the legs that twitched ever so often. Feet that stretched and relaxed as if leisurely resting on the ground.

Is this what it means to Become It?

This was not just horror nor the grotesque. This was the annihilation of everything that you are—a complete and total erasure of identity, and for what? To turn you into a tacky chair.

He realized a pivotal point—the Spiral was no longer playing with its food.

In fact, it was Hungry.

.

.

.

What if I stop being me?

Billy choked on inhaling his next breath. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird's wings as he clutched his chest. The Lichtenberg scars underneath his sweater pulled and ached as black crept along the edge of his vision.

The world tilted—skewed and slanted.

Billy's chest tightened further, and he thought his heart would crush his chest with the weight of Everything.

This wasn't about him.

He inhaled a deep, painful breath.

He breathed again to solidify himself, the darkness receded as he took continuous deep breaths in and out.

Back before his job at Whiz Radio, He remembered Mr. Dare.

Blonde, slick-back hair, a sunny smile, and an ear to listen to. "Do you have any allergies, kid?" The man warmly asked, handing Billy a brown paper bag from a sandwich shop. The smell of Cuban cigars and Hawaiian roast on his breath lingered in the cool, wintry air.

It's not fair.

He hadn't seen Dan for a couple of weeks. The kid figured Detective Dare was off helping TV moguls or multimillionaires. Not this.

Never this.

Crouching over Dan with his knees on the floor, the boy's hand wavered over the brown pants leg, hesitating over the fabric. Yanking his hand away, He placed it on his lap.

Billy's voice cracked as he crouched over Dan Dare, "Mr. Dare, I- I don't know if you can hear me, but you were a good person." His fingers scrunched up his jeans, balling into fists.

"I'm sorry you got turned into... this." A quick glance at the leather cushions wrapped between brown beech wood lurched the orphan's stomach. He reverted his gaze to the human part—the familiar half.

"You were a great detective. I'm glad I got to interview you." The small reporter sniffed, remembering the man's animated tales of intrigue, stakeouts, and close calls with Carol over Whiz Kid radio.

"It doesn't get to take that away from you." The boy wiped his eyes. "I'll remember you and make sure Fawcett remembers you, too."

At first, staring at the chair made him disgusted; nausea rose to his throat, threatening to empty into a paint can. But he pulled back; the disgust simmered and bubbled within him into something else—something hot and sharp. A spark ignited within him.

Was this funny? Did it make the Distortion tickled pink from warping Dan Dare to this?

The boy's gaze flicked to where the spray paint cans scattered near Dan's legs. "Fine," he spat, throwing the cap off as it bounced off an elegant black and gold orchid on the wallpaper. "Let's see how you like it." The spray can hissed out a streak of neon yellow across the flower and several phrases such as "STUPID" and "UGLY" right on top of a particularly offensive spiral.

He held the can out as he punted the aerosol container and jettisoned it into the sky with his foot. Anger burned deep within his stomach, churning a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something Else—something that Distorted. The tinkling of bells echoed in his ears, a constant ringing after a concert.

His hair grew longer, dangling over his face in tangled loops as he heaved a couple of breaths.

Shifting his eyes to the left, he glimpsed a hint of black amongst the plastic containers. The ringing sounded like pulsating beats of his heart with every step. Billy grabbed the box, flipping it open to reveal perfectly intact charcoal sticks.

His heart thundered as he held a handful of them to his eye.

The sight of it irritated him for some reason he couldn't explain. Charcoal—dust and ash, all left of a cloudless blue sky.

He crushed the charcoal sticks in his hands, his nails digging in deep. Black dust etched into every crease and line of his palms, leaving dark stains on his skin.

Suddenly, his eyes teared up. He wiped his eyes with his knuckles, only making it worse—staining charcoal smudging into his eyes, a blindfold of stinging tears and ashes. Blue and black melded and flowed as if a thumb coated with soot ran across the eyes of a watercolor painting.

Swaying across the room, Billy's dangling arms knock over paint cans and water cups as they absorb into the boy's fluid structure. His hair drips down a waterfall of purple, blue, and yellow pigments. His heartbeat takes on multiple tones as if played over a speaker underwater—muted, warbled, and barely recognizable.

He can't see. He can't see. He can't-

The high note and screeching tingling that hits his ears has his hands brush over a basket. It was powdery, smooth, and circular. Chalk. Where there were colors and almost overwhelming imagery, there was nothing but darkness. Red and yellow dripped over him as a cape, and he felt crushed by the immense pressure.

The lack of control over his body and form was too much. He retaliated the only way he knew how. He flipped the basket.

It erupted. Pounding, migraine-inducing bass vibrating the very ground, the facsimile of a boy stood. Reddish-brown powder and chalk dust reached the ceiling, unfurling into the shape of a mushroom with an expanding ring of dust and debris that rippled outwards; pieces of crayons and pencils rolled away from the epicenter—ripping his life into pieces.

Strangely enough, he sees with touch. Sensing the colors and shape, the liquid seeped into the pile, bringing up a floating piece of equipment. A microphone was connected to a wooden broadcast console. He wrapped a tendril of water around it, bringing the mic up the last recognizable part of his body—his mouth. He could feel that water was entering his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He was drowning in his own liquid.

He opened his mouth and uttered, "SHA-"

The lips hesitated, closing as if swallowing.

"Go on, finish it." The smug, gloating voice whispered in a sing-song tone reminiscent of a lullaby.

It was inevitable.

The mouth took one last breath and exhaled a word.

"No."

The static rose to a crescendo; it could feel the vibrations coursing through everything, inside and out. An earthquake shaking the very foundation of being. Baskets of arts and crafts tumbled and tossed in a salad, a blender ripping into every sense and meaning.

The water crashed, overturning the mouth, melding it to its giant amorphous fluid. There was no mouth, not anymore.

The shaking gradually ceased, and a stray chalk fell to the ground near the puddle of water within a bucket—streaks of watercolors, paint, marker, and ink swirled.

The Distortion waited for it to finally digest.

.

.

.

It thought it was erasing him, turning him into a fluid to easily digest.

Water can't be erased.

It adapts. It endures. It Becomes.

Transformation was nothing new to him. From street rat to Demigod, from kid to adult, and from life to death—he had faced change, and every change was a journey he would take—a responsibility he would shoulder.

He took a hypothetical breath.

Five things to see. The sense of vision was curious when it was seen through taste. The painted water flowed through the remnants, seeing the flavors amidst the entropic landscape— salty ink pooled into itself as it absorbed, gaining mass; sour paint flowed into thin, vibrant streams, sweet markers bleeding onto canvases; bitter oils floated on the surface, creating an iridescent sheen, and savory, metallic flavor of the colorful mist from a dented spray can. Four things to feel. The gurgling flow of water filling up a container, the drops of water dripping down onto the canvas below, the chaotic splash of the overflow, and the plop of liquid mass pooling onto a fractured ground. Three things to listen to. The plastic aroma of a fresh coat of acrylic as the water rippled, the harsh, sharp odor of spray paint gases mixed into the atmosphere, and the sweet, musty smell of watercolors spilled across a table. Two things to smell. The coolness of the slick surface, the roughness of the jagged edges of broken tiles. The water seeped through the cracks to pool near a slanted tile. One thing to taste. A yellow chalk teetered on a precarious edge of the ground, as water wrapped around it, the rushing force bringing it to the tile.

The Distortion watched as a child would drown an ant in a puddle it created—its fragmenting, twisted body filled with ever-changing fractals and shapes loomed over the body of water.

A chiming, crackling laughter escaped its body, glass shattering from the ocean's depths. The sound echoed, a sharp, discordant symphony of cruelty.

The sound reverberated through Billy. He may not have been able to hear it, but he felt it in his very being. It was a grating, uncomfortable feeling that rippled through his waters.

Still, he awkwardly fumbled a stray chalk to swirl in a faded-yellow spiral.

"Go on," it crooned sweetly, smug with indulgent malice. "Try your best."

The spiral began to take shape on the black tile under his makeshift, fluid-like hand. With each wave, he etched more of the spiral until it was recognizable.

He pushed against the tile with every lapping wave until it stood upright. Vertical with its spiral, menacingly observing the water before it.

He was not going to go through it.

He was going over it.

Expanding his mind, he concentrated on each piece of water. It was like peering around only Not. He could vaguely feel specks of warmth scattered around, or perhaps he tasted their colors.

Stray droplets leaned against the edges of the scrambled room before, fragments of color scattered about the surface. The leaning tower of sketchbooks stood proudly, having survived the tempest of the Distortion's anger.

Erosion.

At the base, a precarious point lay in wait in this game of Janga. All it would take was one move and the entire structure would come tumbling down.

And that was precisely what Billy needed.

The waves lapped at the tower's base, testing it as a school of piranhas circling their prey might.

Water crashed into the structure, prodding at one of the books. It wiggled, teasing the sketchbook loose from the stack with its alternating crest and troughs.

Soggy pages curled up in the edges, torn off by the constant ebb and flow. Water absorbed into the pages, smearing the black ink into a gray shadow.

It Is Not What It Is laughed, mocking the boy's efforts—a discordant melody of metal scraping onto cherry petals.

It only took one slip—a push against a particularly slippery journal binding, and the cracks propagated throughout. It started to sway like a skyscraper in the first tremors of an earthquake—sketchbooks and journals fell like a sudden deluge.

Pyroclastic flows of ripped pages and book bindings descended upon the water, creating deep amplitudes and displacing water in violent shifts.

The distance between the waves stretched further, rippling outwards.

As the crest approached the shallower water, the seabed of paint tubes and crayons slowed the approaching wave—faster water flows and built the wave higher and higher.

Then, the water began receding from the tile. Static churned in the air—a pressure drop and the oncoming storm's sharp, metallic scent.

Red tubes of paint lay scattered like uncovered seashells. Broken paint brushes stuck out of the glittering sand, drenched seaweed poking out. Interference intensified to howling winds through a tunnel.

Suddenly, a prominent crest rushed towards the black slate in a whirlwind of multicolored water. Billy's consciousness was on top of the wave's crest, surfing right on top, perched in the fierce, foaming waves. The Distorted, fractured form grew darker, tasting of soot and ozone.

As he neared the tile, Billy leaped over the upper border, soaring over the bar with droplets glinting like pearls. Fractals overhead roared in thunderstorms, and streams of yarn dangled like string cheese.

Like the bar of a long jump,

Billy felt absolute elation as he made it past the surface,

mere inches from the top.

The skim of liquid fell towards cracks and through the broken foundation before the roaring water broke the tile with the force.

A scream pierced through the air, amplified through the water, blood-curdling absent of the Distortion's nauseating imagery.

It was deeply human.

Desperate, almost.

.

.

.

Billy slipped through the gaps in the foundation, falling into darkness. Heat wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. Droplets of water hissed as they evaporated, glistening like diamonds. They formed rivulets in the sky—blue, red, violet, and orange rivers.

The water that made up his current form began to foam and boil. Steam rose, transforming into trails of light behind him, like the tail of a comet. Above, the checkered sky framed his descent, starkly contrasting the flowing colors.

As he fell, the boiling water left behind dried remnants of color: red, black, white, yellow, and blue. Slowly, his form simplified, reducing into a watercolor figure. He tumbled through a surreal animation, flipping between frames of black-and-white paper.

The small orphan stretched out his arms, desperate to gain control over the rapid tumble. He slowed, his vision sharpening on a distant sphere—black or white, an inverse of the background behind him.

It wasn���t just a sphere. It was a hole. And he was falling straight into it.

As he drew closer, the sphere grew, consuming the entire frame. Now a speck against its vastness, Billy could feel time slipping away. It moved strangely, bending and warping in ways even the performative chaos of the Spiral couldn't achieve. Wonkier than anything he’d ever felt, not even the peculiar doors of The Rock of Eternity compared.

He tried everything to stop himself. Jumping, swimming, kicking, flying, running—none of it mattered. The pull was relentless.

The numbness began in his legs, spreading upward as they sank into the abyss. Then his stomach, his heart, until the darkness swallowed his eyes. It devoured his memories, form, and every piece of what made him him.

And then—

Nothing.

︵‿︵‿୨𖦹୧‿︵‿︵

Prev || Next

[slowfalter]

My inner child has a crush on your inner child

driving home in silence

as an exercise in thought mining

as an exercise in poetry writing

and the best line I could think of was

we’re all poems in the end

or would that be the beginning?

and you said there’s a poem in that

and I said yeah a bad one

I can’t write long poems because my world is very small

mostly it’s a kettle and a bed

but these distend and retract as required

sometimes over the kettle you’ll swell and scatter

like sugar through fingers

your timelines hatch chromatic

from that crystal that hangs in the window

and I want to know all of the people you were before

even the ones who creep into your sleep

just to embarrass you

like the one with all the hair gel

and the one with all the frills

I'll pluck them from your family album

and cradle them in my palms

I’ll say it’s okay

I know it feels bad right now

but this will all be a poem in the end

or it would be if I could capture them for you

so I could show you

their finest light

and beamingest smiles

neatest hair

first beer

first love

they’re someone’s favourite son

fastest run

funnest time

I’ll show you what I know

and I know that they were all the best people

they had to have been

because they led you here

————

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for December 5, 2015; #99.

Savages “The Answer”

Westkust “Jonna”

METZ “Eyes Peeled”

Radical Dads “Tomorrow’s Trash”

JuliaWhy? “Turntable”

Novella “Land Gone”

Courtney Barnett “Aqua Profunda!”

DIIV “Dopamine”

Personal Best “This Time Next Year”

Speedy Ortiz “Raising The Skate”

Bichkraft “A4″

Diet Cig “Scene Sick”

Looper “Farfisa Song”

Flesh Panthers “Bleed Black Leather”

Title Fight “New Vision”

Cheena “Dreaming”

Mourn “Silver Gold”

Eternal Summers “Heart Squeeze”

Twin River “Bend To Break”

Sheer Mag “Sit And Cry”

Leather Towel “Nacho Chips”

Interrobang?! “Love It All”

Guerilla Toss “TV Spell”

Downtown Boys “Future Police”

Beech Creeps “Sun Of Sud”

Institute “Cheaptime Morals”

Viet Cong “Death”

Nebraska “Stand Your Ground”

Lust For Youth “Basorexia”

Cannibal Ox (ft. MF Doom) “Iron Rose”

Silvana Imam “Imam Cobain”

Future Punx “Manhattan Loverboy”

Hot Chip “Huarache Lights”

Metric “Too Bad So Sad”

MNDR & Sweet Valley “Like Liars”

Chvrches “Leave A Trace”

Grimes “Flesh Without Blood”

Plaitum “Let Me Hold You”

Alice Glass “Stillbirth”

Health “Stonefist”

Chromatics “Just Like You” (Hazy Mountains RMX)

First Year 4 broadcast. First of two Winners Of '15 shows, #99.

[noxcorvorum]

The train arrives, and the mechanisms leave, perhaps getting cosmically irradiated in the process, unable to see the collapse of yggdrasil before the metal of their bodies peels the scourge from their systems and the rainbows from their eyes, before aurora gets out of range of the exploding oil slick in colors unseen and imperceivable covering every planet like a shroud and bringing snapping mouths and hungry teeth and rending claws ripping into the fabric of space as loki and sigyn join each other in death and the bodies of the occupants of the ratatosk express spill into physical space, frey's corpse flayed and frayed and split at the seams, freyja fused with the wall, bones and flesh merged with metal dripping with golden-red, heimdall's empty sockets gazing at nothing and everything, seeing to all the edges of the corruption, tyr and garm entwined, tyr's new hand gripped by garm's sharpened teeth and garm's heart clutched in tyr's ragged fingers, odin's serpentine form slumped on the floor of the observation deck, single eye wide and staring out into the abyss as her blood tinged with acid and deadly rainbow drips from thor's borrowed hammer and mingles with his own where he lies nine steps from her corpse, and the knot of cosmic horror spreads, and spreads, and spreads until it encompasses yggdrasil and all its nine planets, and still it creeps forth. No one goes near yggdrasil, anymore. Just like fort galfridian, abandoned during its fall and left to rust and rot and burn and plummet into avalon, the yggdrasil system is left alone and watched and monitored as the squamous things creep closer. They seem to slow, as they get further out, but it never stops, an oil slick spreading infection and mutation and horror over everything it touches, for the flutes have stopped, the doors have opened, and azathoth awakens. The sole survivor, an inspector second class of the midgardian transport police, must move often and quickly, as they drip corruption behind them like a cloak, like so much water on soaked earth, and it spreads and screams and rips and rends if they do not leave whatever planet they stop at before it puts down roots. Everyone they encounter can tell they have been fundamentally changed, by the swirling colors in their eyes and the slight echoed song in their voice and the chromatic smudges that leak from their fingertips onto everything they touch. The void does not let them die, knitting their flesh and sealing their bones back together on a tide of vivid color and nauseous patterns. They take to music and storytelling, narrating the fall of their planetary system as a way to commemorate its existence, and as a warning to any who would listen of the distortion and decay raging its way forth, for they are herald and harbinger for the squamous things, and it will never let them go.

[ungoliantschilde]

Ride the Lightning, 1984.

Every aspect of this album was an improvement over Kill ‘Em All. The writing, the composition, and the variety of sound.

Fantastic album.

There was an error edition of the vinyl albums. A small number of the first printings were produced with a green hue. They’ve been bootlegged and copied. Original error editions are VERY valuable in the vinyl collector’s world.

The only single was “Creeping Death”, and it’s about the Israelites fleeing Egypt. Stoned Sour did a great cover of it. Great, great track.

My picks for the best are basically Metallica’s signature song, “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and “Fade to Black”.

“For Whom the Bell Tolls” is the song you’re going to expect when you see them live, and be fucking pissed if they don’t play it. Cliff Burton’s bass chromatic intro is based on what got him hired by the band. It’s… iconic.

“Fade to Black” is the perfect example of them broadening their musical tastes. The acoustic intro was initially derided by the hardcore fans. This climactic ode to suicide is one of their best.

[slutforslytherin]

girls just want to have fun

warnings: kissing , slight choking , kinda fingering(above underwear) , swearing , smoking , underage drinking , weird men / underage girls / based in baby on netflix. but they are hp characters.

summary: y/n = you + best friend pansy (ludo) skip a halloween party to go to a hookers club pansy’s been going to for awhile. you arrive and get flooded with compliments but one boy catches your eye.

-

“I dont know pans” , i sigh in front of my begging friends body. “Please y/n you will have so much fun , plus who wants to go to a stupid school party” she giggles holding my hands tight , i think about it for a few seconds deciding it wouldn’t be as bad as i thought.

“whatever then this better be fun” i point in her now red face , she jumps up happily scolding my waist into a tight hug “i wont disappoint” she winks in my direction as i put on a slight smile.

Rummaging through clothes i find the perfect dress , stops just below my thigh covers up just enough of my body revealing certain body parts to make people crazy “pans whatchu think” i give a small twirl as her eyes trail around my body “sexyyy” she circled me poking my back causing me to squirm “you look sexy to” i wink biting my lip slightly as the sight of her in a beautiful red dress hugged her body perfectly.

“Pansy we are leaving now , see you later” pansy’s mum knocked on the door walking away with a gentle sigh. which was the perfect time , i pulled out a cigarette from my velvety purse along with a lighter reading ‘cry babies do it best’ ,. i light the cigarette which is placed between my lips taking a gentle drag inhaling the strong smoke before handing it over to pansy.

After a while we check the time reading ‘7:36’ , the party came around at like 8:15 so we rushed. Grabbing each of our purses burning the remainder of the cigarette and walking out the door “you exited” she asked sitting in the drivers seat of her car , me following behind in the passenger.

“i guess you could say that” i teased leaning my head into my hands “oh yeah guess who’s there” she said my eyebrow slightly raising “Theodore nottt and his puppets” my jaw drops eyes opening wide “what the fuck seriously” i questioned since there the popular boys who wouldn’t be seen dead with hookers.

She giggles as she pulls up outside a large building three big men standing outside in suits and tuxedos grinning at beautiful ladies walking beyond them in small dresses hardly covering there body “i wont have to fuck no old grandads will i” i joke hoping for a good answer “only if you want” she winks grabbing my hand as we run towards the entrance.

“fiore” pansy nods my eyes meet with a beautiful man standing in front slowly shaking pansy’s tiny hands “pansy evening, nice seeing you again” he smiles “this is” he pointed in my direction slowly grabbing my hand “im y/n , its nice to meet you” i gave a shy smile as he placed a gently peck on my knuckle.

small pecks of blush creep on my cheeks as he holds both of our lower backs to lead us in , we took small footsteps in our tall red heels him in the middle posh black shoes placed on his feet “here we are ladies enjoy” he winks giving my back a small push as i get greeted with loud music flashing purple lights and small smiles.

“grrr” men whisper in our ears as we walk through wine glass in my hand sipping and licking as pansy plays fiore’s tie “hey check it out” pansy nudges my arm as i look over and see theodore sitting beside matteo and draco sipping on cool white whiskey admiring my body by the looks of it “is he looking at me” i turn around facing pansy “hes walking towards you” she winks pushing me back as my back falls into his chest.

“So a whore huh” he spoke “excuse me” i took slight offence as he held his hands up in a surrender motion “kidding , why are you here princess” he teased my body holding onto my waist digging his longer finger nails into my hip “pansy invited me , and you” i questioned , theodore has been a good friend of mine ever since primary school but we kinda drifted away since we got older “matteo invited me , like a year ago haven’t stop coming since” he ate a olive out of his drink as music played gently.

“why are you here y/n , a sweet innocent girl like you being flirtatious with older men hm” he put a strand of hair behind my ear as my eyes look down. I felt his hand creep to my throat gently tugging “i uh i didn’t fancy going to the school party so” as i tried to finish his lips connected with mind.

Our tongues played with each others top and bottom lip until he slipped it into my mouth , “mm” is all i managed to get out as his fingers swam beneath my dress.

His finger going over my covered clit

causing a small whimper to escape into his burning mouth. i grinded upon his two fingers as his hand had a tight grip on my throat squeezing ever so often “fuck” i moaned into his mouth gaining a small smirk “feel good cara mia hm” he kisses my temple as i felt a knot in my stomach “m’so close” i bit my lip bruising it as my legs shake.

I seriously just came on THEODORE NOTT’S fingers at a party? oh my , he continued rubbing my clit until it throbbed begging for him to let go “i i came theo” i put my head in his neck as he removed his fingers “hm take that as a warning bella come back here again it will be a punishment” he winked.

my body left shaking in the middle of a dance floor as he sits back down with his friends acting like nothing happened.

-

AWFUL I KNOW STAWP

[aptericia]

I'd LOVE to know more! It's on sale and I considered getting it because I recognized the name from your posts, I'd love to hear more about it from you before I make a decision

of course!! So basically, the story revolves around these urban legends called the "Seven Mysteries" and various characters trying to learn the truth about them in order to further their own goals. The player switches between several main characters & their sidekicks, all of whom are pretty different but all very likeable! There’s a lot of alternate timeline stuff as well which is super cool.

The only romance is like very minor background mentions, and there's no creeping or gross flirty comments. There's some language, cigarette & alcohol use, etc., as well as of course lots of murder. There's plenty of disturbing imagery, but the gore is mostly limited to dialogue and written descriptions. There's also lots of flickering and flashing effects, although I believe the chromatic aberration effect can be disabled for easier viewing.

The puzzles include looking for clues around 360-degree environments, picking dialogue options, choosing when and how to use your characters' powers, etc. The game gives you a conversation log and detailed info about characters and setting in order to help you solve the puzzles. They're not too difficult, but they do require thought and are often very creative!

If you're interested, the characters include:

Shogo, an unremarkable Normal Guy(tm)

Yoko, the neighborhood Weird Girl who is fascinated by the paranormal

Harue, a rich housewife who's disturbingly comfortable with the idea of murder

Richter, an eccentric cowboy detective

Tsutsumi, a serious and experienced police dude with family issues

Erio, a much more excitable junior officer

Yakko, a teenage schoolgirl who would rather punch you than use an ancient curse

Mio, a more introverted brand of Weird Girl and knows a lot about magic

and lots more!!!

[trashlama]

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

ROR (Record Of Ragnarok) headcanons/IDK drabble turned one-shot

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Jack The Ripper

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

This is definitely not for kids!

Like if you're under 18 please just turn back. This is 18+ only!

Just to warn you guys, I literally watched this show almost in one night yesterday so bear with me. And then proceeded to write this. It was supposed to just be some headcanons. And then it turned into drabble and then one shot.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh

I re-read this thing a couple of times. I tried to search the internet for quotes that would fit. Cause his character is really into quote'in and shit. I'm sorry if it isn't great I don't usually write so I tried my best. I just was filled with so much simpin' juice for this man at the time so I had to write cause I have no confidence in drawing his character with how badass he is.

Please enjoy!

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Really into aura shit

You got a nice aura? Better watch out. He might seek you out for that warmth if it's too similar to his mother's. Before she went kray- kray-.

Brah has a thing for cute shit

Based on his reaction with the Valkyrie chick he Völundr with. He's definitely into Lolita's.

I'm not a hundred sure what else he might be into. I feel like he's into the whole pure thing and wanting to A.) Corrupt it or B.) Cherish it.

Totally see him as a creep/closet pervert

Too much of gentlemen to be straight up creepy, buuutt still manages to push boundaries, tho whatcha gonna do

Brah is V from V for Vendetta but, minus the whole fuck parliament and being a charred turkey whose like woof- woof- for Evee Hamond.

Brah kept giving me flashes back to Batman by Gaslight.(Really good movie, guess what? Fet. Batman & Jack the Ripper. It's some badass shit.)

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Brraaahhh imagine just being some poor samp having to make ends meet in like one of the recognized most shittiest times. And its the dead of the night, walking home after your shift at the pub that ran later than you would prefer. But hey, money is money.

Everything is quite aside from the inebriated stumbling to their choice of den and the ladies of the night who waited on the curbs for potential customers. Preferably the quick and wasted ones.

Although the lamp wicks were burning bright thanks to the caretakers that serviced them. You being a dumb b*tch just trying to get home decide to pull the white girl move in the horror movie and walk into one of many dark decrepit alleys in London that were spread out like a cobble stone labyrinth.

Only to come across this motherfucker while passing through. Humming the London bridge is Falling Down while hunched over something behind one the local comunial waste bins. Obviously whatever it was had the bizarre-o ivory-haired man distracted enough to not notice your initial presence. If you were a normal self-preservation instinct still intact person you would've ran back the way you came.

Buuut that's too easy sooooo, no.

You—, you decide to play Blue's fuckin Clues and go stroll by the dude to see what he dooooin'.(Kinda like when there's a crash and everyone is like yoo I wanna see. But there's traffic so they slow just a little bit down when passing the crash to see what's up. Cause we all nosey b*tches. Don't lie.)

Didn't even take five steps before this crackhead whipped around to see who was approaching. And in the same short amount of time it took the mustached hetero-chromatic eyed dude to analyze your fluctuating aura of emotions. Meanwhile your ass noticed how this dude was fist deep in this lady's guts playin' doctor with a satchel of equipment at his side. Outfit drenched in the same burgundy colored ooze that flooded from the ripped open abscess in the abdomen of the obviously recently deceased women that was prompted up against the corner where the waste bin met the structure.

Before you could even think of back pedaling out of this situation. The pale haired man had launched himself on you. Quick to restrain you against the gross ass cobblestone wall of the ally way. In the right hand a common barbers knife that'd you find in any supplies shop in london—hovered threateningly above the thin skin of your throat. While the other was kept busy planting you against the wall by the roots of your still pinned up hair.

The desire to allow fear course into your veins was strong as you stared trapped in the heterochromatic pools of mania that belong to the person infront of you. Pools of crimson and glacier keeping you pinned. The former of the two holding almost supernatural glow to it. The gleam of it's light piercing through the veil of fog and darkness like the knife he so carefully wielded.

"What's a young maiden like yourself walking around at this hour in a place like this? And without a chaperon?" The mustached man inquired though obviously not out of interest but, amusement. Maintaining the manic look upon his pale aging features as he peered back into orbs of (y/e).

"It is a blind goose that cometh to a fox's sermon." The older gentleman cooed. Warm breath fan across the skin of your face leaving behind goosebumps in its wake.

The guy was definitely creepy.

Though not keen on being a damsel in destress of any kind. Your ass knew you wanted to survive this counter. And no one from the London yard to the hooker you passed on the corner is gonna help you now.

You had three options:

Scream

Fight

Reason

With a blade at your throat you might as well call yourself Marie Antoinette 2.0, if you chose the first option. Fighting with this dude would definitely be one-sided. From the fact that it took him 2.5 secs to over power you and contain you to a single spot. Yeah that's a no-go. And to be honest you weren't a hundred percent sure if reasoning would work on the psycho in front of you. Based off the fact he's staring at you like a mustached Cheshire Cat with a Mad Hatter's attitude. This is one fucked game of perseverance that you wish hadn't walked into.

Your last resort? You weren't completely sure what yet but one thing for sure; the way this night was looking so far this might be your last time underneath the moonlight. You might as well try something. It's not like you have anything left in your life to lose.

As you steeled your resolve in your mind. Your aura told the middle age man everything he needed to know.

At first glance it was nothing special. Just a cesspool of emotions primarily exhaustion and the normal stress that lays beneath every worrisome thought of the future and tomorrow's problems.

He was just going to rip her up like the predecessors that came before her. However, it was when he pinned her to the putride wall of the alleyway that he saw her true colors.

They shifted like a marvelous rainbow. One moment they were a stressful cobalt. The next a surprised cyan. Than a thoughtful calculative lime green.

However resting a deeper emotion sat next to the core in every flash of color. Remaining vigilant against an invasion from outside forces that threaten to penetrate the brigade that kept them at bay. Was a spec of regretful indigo. There it sat safe guarding the very thing that created its very being. So the same thing wouldn't happen again.

The array of sensitive colors dazzled his senses. The alternating emotions keep his interest peeked and the knife from laying any more pressure on your artery. His receptors in his nerves soaking up the vivid feelings like a dry sponge in the bath water. However unlike the sponge, his body just craved more.

He wanted to see the violet purple. The despair fill her heart. It was his favorite thing.

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva your (y/e) irises began to what you think is nonchalant but, isn't very chalant— scanning your surroundings. Looking for an opportunity to present itself despite the current obvious disadvantages. -cough- knife at your throat -cough- head at risk being slammed -cough-.

The creepy-ass grin from the creepy-ass man in front of you didn't help easing any tension in the little space between you two.

" Sir I nought know why you're doing this but, please allow me to pass onwards on my path. I cannot convict you. I don't even know your name nor what you look like." You reasoned (y/e) eyes filled with earnestness and your soul mirroring the same in a vivid courageous orange and a trepidious magenta.

Eyes trained with one another never breaking for a moment. Not even when his hand with the knife pulled away and was swiftly replaced with the left grasping your windpipe.

He hummed amused with your statement. How foolish you were to think ignorance could save you from your sealed fate.

" How rude of me..." He began.

Successfully instilling even further the threat that was to her life tonight. Not the drunktards who came in on a regular. Not the slim shit wages that barely kept her afloat. Not cholera(that one is a joke because of the time period and where they're at).

The mustached man right in front of her.

Typically he just kills whores. The women who remind him the most of his mother. Though if their soul shines a true brilliant viscous scarlet.... he doesn't mind making an exception or two. After all at the end they all become such a beautiful violet before it ends in white.

Taking an actual intake of her appearance she was certainly not a prostitute. Her bosom was properly strapped down by the corset underneath the fabric of her appropriately length dress that clung to her desirable frame. No cheap lard products to cover her natural appeal.

Only upon closer exception does he notice the faintest of a tan line from a band that has long since been removed.

A ring.

There had been a martial union and as evident with the lack of a band clasped around her dainty finger. It has been terminated. Divorced. Day-old goods that no one wants to touch.

The absence of it told him she had no one to return too.

That she was also abandoned.

That she was free for the taking if he pleased.

But, unlike most Lodon's fine selection of men. Jack actually did have manners.

And a criteria.

And before taking her in he needed to test her.

Can't have distrust in a budding relationship now can we?

" My name dear unwanted maiden is.... "

Hands like snakes from Garden of Paradise enclosed around your tranchea . Effectively sealing away the opening for the air to travel into your lungs.

"....Jack,..."

Cheshire Cat grin stretched across his pale complexion. The insanity in his eyes burning red hot like the poker in the fire.

"... Jack The Ripper! " He said with a joyous glee. Finally leaning in close enough that you could finally make out his full features.

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest"

Pools of (y/e) widen with surprise as they maintained the direct line of eye contact with the killer who has been stalking the streets of White Chapel.

Tears fell from (y/n) sockets. Not out of fear or the tragedy of your death. But rather the hurt of knowing you'll never get the chance to have a family.

I'm sorry this next part is ridiculously darker than the rest of this one shot/drabble. IDK how I went down this path but, just warning the next part includes talks of divorce, implied inf@cide, implied ch!ld murder, mi$carriage, oh and I almost forgot just dap of pedo alert.0

Please continue with your own discretion!!!

Since the start you never got to have that family. You never knew your parents. They had left you at an orphanage. Lucky for you that they had room to spare. Most became water logged coffins sealing away the babes from undesirable fates.

It wasn't sunshine and rainbows at the orphanage. You had to pull your weight from a very young age. Those who didn't contribute didn't get food, those who resisted got sent away, anyone who didn't listen came back from lectures with welts and concussions. You pick and choose your battles. And you chose them very carefully for the first fifteen years.

Until you felt the need to defend yourself against one of the caretakers who wasn't so noble. You had shed first blood the summer before. And ever since had been on the edge due to prying eyes and wandering hands.

That summer you left the orphanage and headed to London. Hear say from villagers say all the jobs are in the cities now. Thanks to the Industrial revolution offering more opportunities than ever before.

You had gone. Worked at a textile plant for some time until you met your first husband. And became pregnant with your first kid.

....only to lose the fetus three months later due to the stress your body was under. Children take so much. Even before their born. The nutrients get sucked from the marrow and slowly you lost the battle.

Your husband blamed you, and you did too. You tired, tried, and tried. But, they just couldn't be kept.

It wasn't even a two years later that your first husband divorced you.

You always wanted to be able to try again. To have that child to love and hold, to cherish unconditionally like you wished you had been.

Though staring into those mix-matched pools of insanity. In one last attempt to not give into the fear of the impending end. You thought one last time about your dream.

Jack was both pleased and mystified

Instead of the violet purple he saw within most of his victims. He found a light source that resembled the embers that kept the Londoners warm through the ruthless winters. An eradecent hue that blend yellow and pink into what can only be described as a hug to the senses.

Relaxing and comforting. A guiding light to ease one to rest.

"And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief ".

Slowly hands like steel latches released their grasp from around your neck. Skin already blossoming with bruises in the shape of handprints.

Without the support holding you up your body slid towards the alley way floor to only be scooped up into Jack's arms, as if weighing nothing more than a few sheets of paper.

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand."

Too exhausted to fight off Jack's tight embrace between the near death experience and the shift you had worked before ever traversing down this alleyway.

(y/e) drifted shut as you listened to Jack whisper sweet quotes of adoration as he took you away. Going only gods know where.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd."

As the morning sun rose above the thick pea soup fog. Londoners would be too enthralled in the newest victim of the ripper to notice that there was another woman that the ripper had stolen. With no body to be found.

The five quotes here are quoted by(as in order of appearance)

John lyly

William Shakespeare

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mary Shelley

William Shakespeare

My other fur-baby is fed up with me editing this thing.

[demonicdames]

A little writing project of mine that I have on A03 that I'm going to throw here to. Rated: E F/M Papa Emeritus II x F!Reader Cardinal Copia x F!Reader Chapter 8: Apologies Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

It all happened so fast, first Papa Terzo was on stage singing his heart out to the siblings and party goers and next, he was dragged off stage everyone was confused even the ghouls and ghoulettes, that was when Papa Nihil came out, and introduced himself, that was the night everyone had found out that Terzo was no longer Papa. It angered you to no end how could they do that to him!?, yeah Terzo wasn't the best guy and could be a downright dick and creep but to publicly humiliate him like that?.

Nihil watched his youngest son from the window above, Terzo had sought refuge in his brothers. With his elbows resting on both knees his face in his palms shoulders shaking, his Prime Mover on her knees in front of him consoling her dethroned Papa.  "Sister- I hope you honestly know what you are doing." Nihil may not have been the best father but he did care for his boys seeing Terzo hurt like this... hurt his very soul.

"Yes Papa believe me I know what I'm doing, it -- it had to be done the fame unfortunately got to Terzo's head and the poor boy lost his way, lost the message we are to send out there of our Dark Lord." Lies, all were lies that slipped past that woman's lips, Imperator wore the mask of sorrow yet inside she was celebrating that her plan was being perfectly executed. 

"Let everyone in the Ministry take a week off all of the siblings I'm sure must come to terms and accept what happened last night. "Of course Papa, I will make the announcement shortly."

Terzo held his head in his hands going over every concert, every step, every word, every moment what had he done wrong?, Did he not praise Lucifer enough? did he not invoke the sins of Lust and gluttony enough? Even Primo and Secondo were confused plus to make matters worse- it happened in front of his love and you, literally he had made sure you and his Prime Mover were in the front row and of course the rat. Terzo looked down at his Mover his hand creasing her cheek. "Please don't cry cara mia." Sniffling she laid her head back on his lap whispering apologies on behalf of the Clergy. "This is very strange," Primo muttered, Gemma was beside him her arm linked with his, her belly showing even more now. "Maybe.. because I did not produce an heir?." Sister Shelly looked up at her Papa fearing that it was her fault. "No- no no no  darling no." Terzo cupped her face. "The only reason we did not produce an heir is simply because I was too busy trying to impress them, the followers and the fans." 

 That is when you came jogging up sympathy written all over your face. Your sudden appearance made Secondo stand a bit straighter, this was the first time he'd seen you since you were snatched away from him, and what a sight you were. The second oldest Emeritus had almost forgotten the curve of your hips, the swell of your ass and tits, how perfectly they were squeezed into your habit but most of all those lips and eyes. Lips he'd give anything to feel brush against his own again and wrap around his cock, to see the look of admiration, lust, and maybe even a little hint of love in those eyes when you both reached your bliss. His brother's woes were forgotten for a moment as his hetero chromatic eyes looked you up and down Primo caught his little brother's gaze and elbowed the man. "Stronzo," Secondo whispered under his breath his attention finally coming back to his brother when Sister Shelly cleared her throat. 

"Brothers, Sister I'm going to take mi amore back to our room to relax keep yourselves out of trouble until we can get to the bottom of this."  The Sister spoke as she rose from the ground, Terzo looking up at her with teary thankful eyes. "Grazie amore," he muttered getting up when his Mover gave his arm a little tug a soft kiss shared between them. "Ti amo così tanto tesoro." Shelly purred to her wounded man walking him away. You watched the two as they headed off,  you did feel bad for Terzo being yanked off the stage like that it wasn't until now that you realized that left you with Primo, Gemma, and - your attention turned to Secondo who wouldn't hide the fact he was looking at you, studying you the intense look made your cheeks warm up. "Come the both of you can help us." Primo waved his hand between the two of you. Both you and Secondo opened your mouth but closed it Primo was Secondo's older brother and you were Sister Gemma's helper. Returning to Primo and Gemma's home, both brothers slipped their Papal robes off, hanging them up, wearing black dress shirts, pants, belts, and shoes under them the two almost matching if it wasn't for Secondo's gloves and watch. Freezing in your place you watched as Secondo rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, having not been with him for the last couple of weeks you noticed a few little things, a few little things that had a big impact on you mostly between your legs. You noticed the veins that laced up his arm, the top of his forearm slightly darker than the bottom, and the thin layer of hair that covered his arm. You could recall those nights when those arms were around you, holding you down that gloved hand around your throat the Emeritus looked up catching you looking at him for a split second your gaze being adverted quickly your cheeks burning. Primo and Gemma exchanged looks they knew exactly when they were doing the old ones Prime Mover handed him two dry rigatonis. 

"Fratello, could you do me a favor?" Primo asked Secondo walking over to him. "I have this kink in my back could you get it out? like when we were younger?." Secondo eyed his brother arching a brow. "Fratello at your age I will break you in half." Secondo protested but of course, as expected Secondo gave in, turning around Primo made sure you saw the dry noodles go into his mouth, crunching down on them when Secondo picked his older brother up who withered in fake pain Secondo looking as if he was about to shit bricks. "Mi dispiace mi dispiace mi dispiace I told you fratello!." Secondo huffed as Primo made his way to the couch with your help and Gemma's even you had faked looking shocked.   "Va bene va bene va bene va bene." Primo rested on the couch with a sigh . 

"Fratello could you and our lovely sorella stick around for a little while, until I feel a little bit better, sì?." The older Emeritus asked getting a nod from Secondo.  "Perfetto grazie fratello! and sorella, would you two make lunch?." Primo asked as Gemma sat beside her husband on the edge of the couch, his hand moving to rest on his Movers thigh.  Before Secondo would say a word you answered for the both of you.  "We'll get right on it Papa Primo." Your hand taking hold of Secondo's and dragging him into the kitchen, it must have been a hilarious sight little you tugging that tower of a man into the kitchen.  "I can't cook..." Secondo whispered harshly to you sure in his past Primo tried to teach him but he never paid attention always having the siblings do it, you could see the turmoil in his eyes making you giggle your hand gently patting at the man's chest. "Don't worry, I'll help you."  Secondo made a face but agreed as long as he could spend time with you. It wasn't long before the kitchen was filled with giggles and hushed chuckles the radio was turned on low to not disturb the love birds in the other room, you've never seen Secondo so relaxed- well when sex wasn't involved. Taking your hand in his own the man swayed you around the kitchen in a little dance that had you giggling up a storm as he twirled you away from himself only to pull you right back bumping right into his chest. He was smiling- sweet Lucifer below he was smiling you stayed like that for a good few minutes just staring and memorizing each other. The song on the radio changed to a much slower one, without taking his eyes off of yours Secondo took your hand in his the other resting on your lower back while your free hand took purchase on the Emeritus's shoulder. body-to-body slow dancing in the kitchen. Secondo leaned in his lips gently pressing against yours moving slowly causing soft smacks before deepening it, your lips moving together slowly.

 You melted into each other your lips parting when his tongue poked them for entry you couldn't help the little whimper you gave as the Emeritus tongue searched and reclaimed your mouth as his own. His strong hands moved to your backside lifting you with ease like you weighed nothing, sitting you on the counter the kiss never breaking until you were settled, his skilled mouth traveling from your lips to your neck.  He hated that the marks he had decorated your neck constantly were gone and that his scent didn't cling to you anymore.  You moaned his name your head falling back as Secondo's lips moved feverishly over your skin maneuvering to the other side of your neck, his paint smearing off onto your skin pulling back the Emeritus looked down at you seeing his paint on you, paint and saliva mixed, a grin coming to his face. "I've missed this, seeing my paint on you, that clouded look in your eyes." You smiled up at him you wanted to be happy that you were there in his arms again but- the recent time away had also allowed you to think about things, about everything after today he would just walk the halls of the Abbey and Ministry like nothing happened or even get a new assistant if things went sour in the office. This was just the last pleasurable rodeo for him you didn't mean anything to him, did you? At least your brain told you so the only reason you had been sleeping with him in the first place was, as he put it 'co-workers with benefits'. You could feel the lump forming in your throat with each kiss Secondo placed on your skin each inch his fingers slid up your habit, your hand placed on his chest giving the man the smallest of pushes to cause him to stop and lean back.  "Sorella what -?."  "We shouldn't." you cut him off Secondo looking confused.  "Why?."  You had to think of something quickly not wanting to spill your heart out to your ex-boss. "We're in Primo's kitchen, can't do 'that' here." You forced a believable smile as Secondo seemed to remember that you both were in his older brother's kitchen. "Mi dispiace" Secondo spoke taking a step back and allowing you to slip from the counter the man chuckled making you turn and in your horror, there was a perfect sweat outline of your ass and pussy the mark giving away just how wet this damn man made you, cursing grabbing the cleaner and towel to take care of it your face flushed completely not able to look the Emeritus in the eyes. 

Once you both had finished preparing lunch for Primo and Gemma, you checked her vitals writing down her blood pressure and sugar level everything came out perfect. When leaving you turned once more watching as Primo rested his face on his Prime Movers belly again a smile finding its way to yours. You remembered earlier in your work relationship with Secondo how you wished, dreamed that he'd take you as his Prime Mover or pop the question but it never happened your brain reminding you that you were worthless to him, you were just a paper pusher, your smile slowly vanished once the door was closed. Feeling arms snake around you, you turned quickly to face him.  "Don't." You spoke cursing that your voice cracked.  Secondo's brows furrowed his arms staying around you keeping you close. "Cara, what is wrong?, why do you push away your Papa?." You tried hard you did but even the strongest of walls sometimes crack. Swallowing against the lump in your throat you gently pulled his arms from around yourself stepping back.  "Secondo, we... we can't, I can't..." Your voice trailed off Secondo whispered your name his hand moving to take purchase on your cheek however you blocked him from doing so. "Damn it just-." And then it all came out. 

"I know I'm nothing more than a good fuck now and then Secondo, that's all I am to you in the beginning I didn't care sex was sex but now... now I.. I..I... I just can't!." You yelled turning and running from the Emeritus who reached out to grab you but missed by a hairline. He didn't move from that spot for a good moment he was shocked, is that what you thought? you thought you didn't mean anything to him? Just how long had you felt that way? 

You had run blindly down the halls of the ministry weaving through siblings and Clergy members, your habit caught on your heel sending you falling to the floor a good-sized staircase followed,  landing at the bottom you were dazed you swore you could hear voices, saying your name one of them sounding like Terzo before your eyes rolled and darkness took you. 

When you came to you found yourself tucked into a plush bed covered with equally plush black and purple blankets.  "Where..." Your voice croaked as your vision cleared a wet cloth patting your face, it was Terzo. "Terzo..?" You asked the man was dressed in a purple robe.  "Shhh cara mia, you took quite the fall." You noticed three other forms there as well Omega, Alpha, and Divine who plopped in Omega's lap all three having worried looks on their faces.

"What happened?." You asked sitting up Terzo opened his mouth to speak but the ghoulette beat him to it.  "We were fucking and you came tumbling down the steps."  "Divine!" the two ghouls spoke sternly and Terzo squeaked.  "What?!, that's what we were doing don't come at me." The ghoulette huffed wiggling from Omega's arms to stretch out beside you on the bed in a feline-like manner the ghoulettes head coming to rest on your belly your hand settling on the female's head gently petting through her raven locks your lips turning to a smile as the ghoulette began purring, they were like cats and dogs.  "But yes." The Emeritus started. "You came tumbling down the steps with tear streaks, what happened little dove?."  It threw you for a loop how Terzo could sometimes be so obnoxious but other times like these he was sweeter than sugar.  "I'd- rather not talk about it." Before they could question you again your attention turned to the Emeritus sitting by you. "How about you Terzo? how are you holding up?."   A pained look came to his face.

"I'm... I'm -." Omega reached over placing a clawed hand on his lover's shoulder giving the Emeritus a reassuring squeeze. "I'm managing principessa." You smiled up at him before looking around the dark room. "Where is this place anyway?." "An old ghoul den that was used back in Primo's time it was abandoned not long after Secondo took over as Papa," Alpha explained  "It's the only place we all can be together and not get weird looks," Divine explained her tail wrapping around Alpha's thigh. " Or jealous ones." Omega threw in. "Ahh, so you three and Sister Shelly are poly?."  Terzo nodded to you. " First it was I and my Prime Mover then Omega later Alpha came in followed by Divine a few years after." The Ghouls and Ghoulette nodded at their Papa's words.

"Now sorellina, why were you running with tear-stained eyes?." The Emeritus asked. "Was it Secondo? I can smell him on you." Omega piped in.  "No no no, everything is fine it was-."... Damn it think!... "Pre-period mood swings." It wasn't too big of a lie considering your flow would start soon, after being the victim of an Emeritus Ghoul and Ghoulette snuggle party you were finally allowed to leave and promising not to tell anyone of their little love nest. You now understood why Terzo always loved to lay with his ghouls and ghoulettes you felt rejuvenated. Maybe you overreacted with Secondo you did go along with most of his movements and even drew him in perhaps it was best to apologize. Lost in your thoughts you didn't see the Cardinal coming your way until you collided with each other both falling to the ground. 

"M-Mi dispiace! mi dispiace s-sorella!." Copia stammered grabbing his biretta from the floor the Cardinal quickly moved to help you up uttering apology after apology dusting you off.  "It's okay it's okay it's -." You grasped both his gloved hands in yours making him look at you. "It is okay Copia." You offered him a warm smile which he returned, his already warm cheeks only grew warmer as you took his biretta placing it back atop his head. The Cardinal did have such a sweet face and that adorable little mustache that your thumbs smoothed over. Copia fought the urge to part his lips at your touch it was so intoxicating, and your touch only seemed to grow even more intoxicating after the night you two had spent together.  "Where are you going in such a hurry anyway?." You asked his hands coming up to rest in front of himself wringing them together.  " Eh, oh I was on my way too ah, talk to Sister and Papa Nihil about something with the Ghost Project."  "Then I won't keep you I know how Sister is when you keep her waiting." You chuckled. "Ciao Cardinal."  "Ciao sorella!." 

Finding yourself in front of Secondo's office door you straightened your habit making yourself look presentable, going to knock you jumped as the door opened the Emeritus stood before you a moment of silence before you both spoke in unison. "I need to talk to you." "But not here," Secondo added. "At my place." To which you nodded in agreement. When you walked into his room his scent smacked you like a ton of bricks the same scent that used to cling to your clothes, skin, and hair it still made your core throb. Secondo watched you as you sauntered around the room for him it was the first time that home felt like home again.  "Sorella what I wanted to say-."  "Wait, wait Secondo may I go first per favore?." "Sì." 

"I... I'm sorry for earlier I had a lot on my mind worries, and doubts, and I shouldn't have said any of that or gotten upset with you."  "No tesoro, I should be the one apologizing for making you feel that way, I am...ah.., not good at expressing emotion." Secondo took both your hands in his your name whispered past his lips. "You mean more to me than you will ever know...." He looked like he was struggling to find the words his brows furrowed in frustration his mouth opening but closing several times when the words didn't seem to fit. "Cazzo, ti voglio bene!!."

 He finally blurted out his grip on your hands tightening his angry gaze on the floor. You were shocked it took a few minutes for you to wrap your head around his words and to find yours, one hand leaving him to tilt his face up to look at you. 

"Ti amo." You whispered the space between you being closed pulling him into a soft kiss your lips moved slowly against each other as he hoisted you up so your legs could wrap around his hips the kiss breaking, staring into each other's half-lidded eyes the tips of your noses bumping before slipping into another kiss carrying you to his bedroom.

*Cazzo, ti voglio bene!: For fucks sake, I love you!*

Make-up sex in next chap Ꮚ˃ꈊºᏊ Also fun fact 'Sister Shelly' Was just a place holder name to begin with but now she's stuck wit her man. Tag List: Please comment or message if you want to be tagged for future chapters! @thesoundresoundsecho , @xpapaemeritus

[phvrvohxo]

never got paid for popcaan fixtape cover

2020 i shot the album cover for popcaan but i never received a dime, creep chromatic is the one who took me onboard the project. i spent about 7 days documenting the camp that they had in st. thomas. when i asked for payment creep said that it was too much of a hassle to go through ovo's people to get me my money smh they used the images for youtube videos and other promo without my permission. an article came out on the fader magazine website with some of the images published as well & guess what i didn't even get paid for that as well, all this happened 4 years ago and i am still pissed a let that slide. so many people posted the artwork and didn't even give me credit in the caption or tag me...

[radium901]

dress-up

i should not have read a book about a serial killer!

it makes me want to become one.

no, no, poorly worded. that is really not the case, dear sir.

i just want to feel like one.

the music i listen to elicits it. the cat out of the cave,

i feel it creeping along every vertebrae.

the chromatic scale!

it is building and building but it cannot resolve to anything for

i am left on the leading tone!

it is such madness i don't realize chromatic scales

don't even fucking have leading tones!

the leading tone! how foolish!

a foolish blonde boy led me on! why communicate

when you can leave it on a leading tone

and let the girl complete the rest of the scale herself!

i am left one semitone away from

pure bliss, from pure wonder, from euphoria, from ecstasy.

that angers me! it can anger me to the point

where i am ready to take a human life! yes! yes it can!

little girls love to play dress up in front of their mother's closet,

long robes and belts and dangling earrings.

this time i hold a knife and my refection is unrecognizable,

but it's just dress up, and the only life i am ready to take

is my own.

[pinkbolts]

> @amarvel   … like thee starter .

sunny afternoon.. two power-houses finding solace in the clouds. hand in oh-so-understanding hand,   comparing life-forces .. or should we say prowess. something akin to star-crossed companions, t hat's what koriand'r believed at least.    though.. it seemed those opinions weren't shared — or rather questionable. the question asked was peculiar:     our powers are different, don't you think?   you can see it on sunset features, confusion mostly, but nothing close to rudeness. she dares to answer it with a difference of opinion, a great one, mind you..   “   i don't know.. i believe your powers are quite similar to mine.    “    fist, balled, extends out to show the blonde as if she couldn't see the light—force with her own two eyes. there's a small hum of light in tangerine palm, it blinks pink before dimming.

"   except yours are..   mesmerizing . "   fellow star in the flesh,   how about that!    never in her days did she think she would think she would see it,   nor it be so beautiful!    the colors were…   otherworldly , they almost remind her of home. compared to her vibrant rose that often varied in hue or shade, the color of the marvel's pigment truly was…   marvelous .   all puns & jokes intended.    chromatic some could describe & the way it shifted in the sunlight was hard to place on the spectrum of earth colors. and although she did love this planet,   she knew those colors couldn't have been from here.      mesmerized green scleras can't help but watch in ...    shock & awe   at the glory of solar flares in the base of palms.

only then does koriand'r notice she hasn't spoken much, just a wonder—filled stare at the others fists. there's redness that rises in her cheeks, arms the housed starbolts now flicker & dim. fists closed & crossed behind her back.    "   you'l' have to excuse me. i grow too.. excited.    "   eye drop to look around at circling clouds, embarrassment creeping up like a summer cold. washing over features it would soon make home..    "  my friends tell me my staring makes others… disagreeable.    “   in their defense, it wasn't exactly the best thing to have starfire stare at you …   most of the time.    those haunting orbs could leave quite a lasting impression,    or so she's heard .    “  and i am not used to others that share my…      “   there's a pause there. she didn't exactly know what to call carol's beams, perhaps she called them something different than starbolts.   huh… interesting.    “   what do you call them.. your light? what's it's name?      "